Raf. Remember when I sent you these songs? How much fun; how liberating those few hours a week were doing music together? How far out of this world we’d soar? I still remember the shine from your face when you’d look up from setting up your equipment when you noticed me walking in. Lit my soul on fire like the look in your eyes.

‘Til it was absconded. By BigBro. By the Music Industry. What price 30 pieces of silver worth today, Sterling? We might ask?

I’ve been curious about so much. Let’s start with the Eras basics. Did you submit the 8 songs I sent you to the one and only slow trailer who made a mighty comeback, along with hundreds since? Three sets now annoy me to no end especially since I said just give me a percentage. I’m dying here, but she just laughs, copies my clothes, makeup, hair, and dancing. Hell, she even held a cat like Kit10 used to snuggle with me, but the cat she was holding was trying to get away, not running to be held when “My Reason” or other songs that get me dancing at home come on. Back when I was able to dance. Finally, after over 2 years, I’m able to move again. Nowhere near before.

Was it to her you first submitted these songs and she jacked our story, setting up a ring like soonest ever had before? Did she cut you out? Is that why it turned from Hero to Anti-Hero? Is that how they got her and 100 others to so unwillingly, for as they announced support for that matinee, these superstars who made billions these past 4 years had the same look in their eyes as that beautiful fluffy calico cat a few years back?

Did she cut you out as she cut me to pieces, extracting so many stories, even 2 Brothers in a Super Bowl after I used my tight end analogy to relay to military and political pundits back in Aug 2022 how UKRAINE’s hand behind back needed to be untied? Who knew football plays would be revolutionized, like basketball 2 seasons later? Crazy though, I’m still waiting for my cut instead of being cut like Roberta Black sang so long ago, “Killing Me NOT Softly with Her Song.” But damn, can’t she even come up with her own wardrobe? Last $100,000 again right out of my closet.

Do you remember how far we’d fly? Now “Fly Me To the Moon” is jacked too. Just wait til I finish the original. I too slow with the added burden of physical torture and Laser-Taser electro-zapping added. So I’m blogging and comic strip making.

Funny you set me free from Hurricane and family aftermath, but somehow I landed in a different abyss. Books caught in catch, kill, copy, plagiarize, repackage, and sell by others. Do you remember this, My Favorite Musician? I do. We can’t go back. Forward clogged too. But that brief moment in time was EPIC. GALACTICAL. DUDE I hear all totaled, it’s F150 trillion, and that was last spring.

The Riddler even kept the name after stealing my Sofia character when they jacked that chapter, slightly modified. Slightly modified the ultimate escape clause. Can you imagine 1% or 10% of that haul? Or have you already collected that IP content share but kept me trapped,. Did you kept my share too?

I wonder sometimes. But rarely do I look back. When I do I smile, for those moments in time were priceless. Epic. More songs, movies, series than I imagined when I drew all those Oscars and Grammy’s in my Vision Board drawings and journals. Do you remember this too?

MAHALO MY FRIEND

My HERO. My Choir Boy, My Knight in Shining Armor, My Cowboy in the White Hat, My Superstar Darlin. 

Mahalo My Friend My Hero for sitting beside me in silent support, for holding my hand without touching, for keeping me warm without your coat. 

For singing me a song.

For reaching out with your loving soul. 

For letting me hold the remote control. 

Beside me like an eagle ray coming in for a dance.  Staying and playing for a moment.  Passing through when I needed you most.  Kinda hoping but kind of fraid to be wishing you stay.  Still pretty fragile, pretty numb to take that chance.  Still fighting shadows mucking up my Soul.  Still dusty from walking into Spider Webs in the Dark.

SWITCH TO UPBEAT.  You came along with your song, your soul.  Your guitar shakin it loose, shakin cobwebs off me.  Setting me free so I can breathe, so I can feel.  Even leftover pain is better than to be numb.  It don’t hurt much if I don’t look down.  If I keep my eyes on your hands playing those strings, my ears on your voice, my mind always checkin your sound. 

Your Music My Meditation.  My Medication.

Mahalo My friend My Hero for loving without judging, or at least for not dishing.

For letting me hold the remote control while my heart heals. Mahalo My friend, My Hero for helping me piece together my shattered world with your sappy love songs. Your kind loving energy setting me free. So again I can breathe.  Again I can feel.  You have set me Free. 

BACK TO FUR ELOISE.  But freedom for nothing is still nothing.  Yes I can breathe.  Yes I can feel.  Freedom has to be for something for my soul to soar once more.  Find something you love and make it your work they say.  But how do you go back to regular work once the moment, like the eagle ray, is gone.  Its Music.  Is it you?  Just waiting for something to make my soul soar once more. 

MAHALO MY FRIEND My HERO My choir boy, my knight in shining armor, my cowboy in the white hat, my superstar darling  Mahalo My friend My Hero for sitting beside me in silent support, for holding my hand without touching, for keeping me warm without giving me your coat. For singing me a song.  For reaching me with your loving soul.  For letting me hold the remote control.  Aloha my superstar darlin.  (Sing Aloha. Like the end of “Can’t Help Falling In Love With You”)

End Singing.

Happy Aloha Sunday.

Do you remember this?