Frankie's Clubhouse

It's hers

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sun, 20 Jul 2025 03:43:00 +0000

Within the Wilted Tree Line

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 05 Sep 2024 15:25:00 +0000

The light shone through the

three picture windows of the

living room. He sat in the dated

orange chair watching one of

his favourite cartoons, Robin Hood.

"This is a good show," he said,

rewinding it to his favourite part.

His pants were hiked up over a belly

formed by years of 7 am bacon

and hidden-in-the-garage whiskey.

His dentures made his demons shine

and so did his eyes, vailed in thick-rimmed

spectacles.

His family played in a world of pretend

until a nephew spat out a secret that

knocked down the drapes.

But his children will always love him.

Stiffly up his chair and towards the brown

and brick mantle, he stokes the

fireplace with a log. Then he hobbles up

the stairs with a mole on his ass,

free and easy so it appears.

Yet, the baggage can be heavy, in the pit

of your stomach like a gummed steak.

The sparse trees are dying because he

doesn't water them when he should. Wind blasts

like bullets from the north. The yellow

tundra surrounding the banks of the homestead

are no defense. But the smell of

fresh buns in the summer kitchen made by a

prayerful, faithful wife is calvary.

A survivor of polio, a first-generation

German daughter of a marriage of

convenience, she married for love and

holds on for faith.

He has had a circus in his head. It's

undiagnosed schizophrenia. He's the head

of the table and the king of

accusations. They are darts poking holes in

the walls to prevent the

warranted backlash of truth.

Generation to Generation

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Tue, 03 Sep 2024 14:12:00 +0000

A life-sized cardboard little girl holding

a giant ice-cream cone was my

first imaginary girlfriend as a

child. It was on the back door

of the garage--right in the

centre of the wall. In front of the

little girl was a chest of

drawers. It's still there

today. Little has changed in that

garage since the day I was born

nearly 40 years ago.

Up in the rafters are bed frames,

carpets and scraps saved

in-case they are needed--or maybe

they are there just for the

memories. Likely it's both. My dad's

tools have accumulated on the east

wall and on the west there

are shoes that have not been

worn in decades.

The old farm is nearing a century

of Franks on the property and

my grandfather still lives there--not as

a ghost but in the trunks

and the branched of the trees,

the architecture and the decor.

The old grain bin's shingles at the

north end of the yard were replaced by

my dad and my brothers and me

a few years ago. We ripped up shingles

and rotten wood that were put in

place in the 60s by my Uncle Miles

and Grandpa Frank.

When my dad told me this, I time travelled

to the scene and felt the distance

between now and

then. It was both so close and so long

ago. It tickled my imagination. I touched

the decay and smelled it. I was there with

them. I felt the space between each of them

and the breeze

and the sun that they

felt a generation ago.

But now the farm is fading away, slowly disappearing

like ashes and death. And we can't take it

all with us. There are too many boxed and the

caskets are only so big. It wouldn't

do any good six feet under, anyway.

Instead, it will survive in fragments

in the hearts and minds of our children. So much

of this will be lost, dead with the rot and

dust of our bodies. But fragments will live on. Just

slivers of memories, stories and truth in the hearts

and mind of our children.

The scent of the garage will be gone forever

and my imaginary girlfriend

holding the ice-cream cone will only

be a ghost in the dreams of tomorrow.

All who are weary

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 10 Apr 2023 18:01:00 +0000

A Good Mug

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sun, 28 Aug 2022 21:18:00 +0000

This is an example of a solid mug. Well, at least in my opinion.

A friend of mine (a great gal; one of the best) asked me to expand on how a good mug makes me feel.

I guess it's a lot like a good book. It's like time travel. Yet, in this case you are time travelling outside of the future and the past, and into the present where the deep strong coffee is harnessed by a cup that is graced by history and nostalgia. A good mug holds the moment as an embrace. It reminds you that there has been good in the world and there will be more of it.

I bought a Roger Williams record at Value Village yesterday. One of the first records I bought in 2014 was by him. He's a pianist from the mid-twentieth century. That's about all I know about him. I have never looked him up or anything--but I recommend you buy a record by him. Very pretty music.

Some Thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 15 Aug 2022 16:09:00 +0000

What I Was Raised By

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 25 Mar 2021 21:42:00 +0000

What I Was Raised By

I saw a bald head with a swath of hair near the back. He dipped his comb in the sink. Back and to the side. Dip. Back and to the side. Repeat. Mom trimmed his moustache in the kitchen. He’d be a stranger without it. Not my father. He’d be too vulnerable and sheepish. But that was part of him, too. He had dirt and grease-seasoned hands, weathered by his curse. The land. It was all he ever wanted. But the droughts blew in and called the shots, lingering, calling him names and giving him slivers. But after droughts come miracles. And it was all he ever wanted. A farm wife is strong, with childbearing hips and a wizardry of the kitchen. His bride, though, was Cecil and Emily’s oldest. She was raised in the rain and the clouds of the coast, with her head down and her eyes squinting at the print in the attic light. Now thousands of miles away, she puts the laundry on the line as the kittens jump in and out of the basket. Up go socks and gitch of her three boys and her Herbie. There she is with the breeze and the sun and the socks and her thoughts. I was allowed a glass of water before bed, tucked in with a whisker rub from dad and the door left open. He sat on the recliner in his house coat, his white legs peeking out underneath while watching the news in the house he grew up in and built on to. The box Yelled at him. Liberals and war, murder and euthanasia. Unsolved mysteries and secrets. Not In this room, not in front of the children. The duo, together, but pillars, alone. They were committed to more than each other, more than us, more than the crops but to their one true God.

Get Out!

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 25 Mar 2021 21:26:00 +0000

The freeing highway winds every which way, with the crisp distance staring back at me. I’m alone, but at least you’re not yelling at me and glaring into my pancreas. I wrapped my arms around my life and swaddled it. That’s when the cobwebs dissipated and The backbreaking deprivation ceased. I stopped living for you. The walls are still up. A righteous sky-high love no longer pushes me into A pin prick manger. But the love is still there. Maybe it’s the serotonin, but regardless I circle the centre. I go back to my dreams. Enough gibberish! I’ll keep my head down in reverence to the unseen, disregarded small steps. How do we access the heart so we can throw the bloody thing against the wall? I want to break it apart and expose the deepest ventricles and avenues to find the answers to this clogged up miracle of emptiness and adrenaline.

Frankie's Clubhouse: Townes Van Zandt

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sun, 02 Aug 2020 17:27:00 +0000

Townes Van Zandt pictured in 1969.

Only Good Words

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 15 Jun 2020 20:47:00 +0000

Only Good Words

Dan Smith told me outside of a pub in Spokane, Washington that he only writes good words. I thought that was a bit cocky but maybe that should be our goal. Each word is like a newborn chick, fragile, important and real. We are all playing pretend until we spit out a secret that knocks down the drapes. There you are hobbling up the stairs with a mole on your ass. Eating up the desires of my heart with a trash can bath of Epson Salts and Pepto Bismol, It enters my blood stream through the pores. Rotting teeth live in the land of love, of admiration, and worship. That baggage can be heavy, in the pit of your soul like a tuna fish sandwich that cuts the lining of your stomach. Don’t just sit there pass the chips with the all dressed flavour. Violence is all around us and so is apathy. And I know what guilt is. But the malaise, the easy, that leads to a pillow death. A soft landing with dopamine hits and pizza. Spread out your joy like manure. It’s powerful shit. It’s good for the soil around you. Our breathing lungs are filling and our dreams are flowing like the rivers of history, with faces and hallucinations pointing to eternity. Back and forward. You’re there and we haven’t even met yet. I want the skin-to-skin history lesson on you and I want your eyes to douse my dreams like a river erodes the base of a ravine. I’m waiting for your hands in mine. We don’t need to speak. We can just communicate with our eyes, ears and throat. Airplanes with rubber tires and air-conditioning are needed to get back to each other. Sit on the corner of the Couch by yourself. Have good posture. Weep like A little girl. Just scratch your scab. Eat Cheeze Whiz On celery and love no one because you can’t afford to lose a love that wasn’t reciprocated or god forbid, one that was real. Oh a cocoon! One made With bedsheets and peanut butter and jelly. As far as the east is from the west. Is that actually very far? You’d rather be sitting on the floor of the shower naked and alone. May I sit on the other side of the shower and just be there with you?

Daft Punk | Something About Us | Pomplamoose

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 15 Jun 2020 17:08:00 +0000

The most fun song ever.

Have Patience

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 07 May 2020 04:14:00 +0000

“Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.” - Rainer Maria Rilke

Sinead O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 U

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sat, 02 May 2020 16:35:00 +0000

Sinead O'Connor is pictured in a photograph by Rolling Stone.

Poolside: Harvest

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sun, 19 Apr 2020 20:48:00 +0000

Image from WAVO.

John Prine

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Tue, 14 Apr 2020 19:42:00 +0000

Photo: 'The Tree of Forgiveness' album cover

Frankie's Clubhouse News

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 29 Nov 2018 17:04:00 +0000

Frankie's Clubhouse is going underground because its partnership with the streaming and community audio website audio archive has ended. So, Frankie's Clubhouse has officially become a club, kinda like Columbia House.

For any episode simply email: nathandavidfrank@gmail.com.

S5: November 2018

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 29 Nov 2018 16:57:00 +0000

Craig Finn (pictured) is featured in this episode. Photo courtesy of noisey.com

Frankie's Clubhouse is going underground because its partnership with the streaming and community audio website audio archive has ended. So, Frankie's Clubhouse has officially become a club, kinda like Columbia house.

For this episode or any other simply email: nathandavidfrank@gmail.com.

November 2018 Playlist

New Order- Blue MondayPaul McCartney Somebody Who CaresBruce Hornsby - The Way It isCraig Finn - God in ChicagoNew Order - CeremonyTeen Daze - KilikaThe Pharcyde - Passin' Me ByBelle and Sebastian - Get Me Away From Here I’m dying

S5: September 2018 by Sheldon Riess

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 01 Oct 2018 04:36:00 +0000

Playlist:
Side A

First Rain/Becoming - Teen Daze
Why Do I Keep Counting? - The Killers (Kahlil Gibran)
Untitled 4 Njosnavélin - Sigur Ros (Vanilla Sky Scene)

Slow Car Crash - Headphones
Sleeper 1972 - Manchester Orchestra
Condolences/Non-Fiction - Touché Amoré (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Side B
Lost Together - Blue Rodeo
No Hard Feelings - The Avett Brothers (Henri Nouwen)
Elegy - Tycho (Forrest Gump Scene)
Kill - Jimmy Eat World
Wait - m83 (Ecclesiastes 3)
Goodbye - Plankeye (Hafiz)

Seasons

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Fri, 14 Sep 2018 16:48:00 +0000

The seasons add texture to our lives. But damn, summer is the best.

"Nothing matters but being friends"

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Tue, 04 Sep 2018 16:39:00 +0000

We’re gifted friendships, but they can be precarious and may waver.

Sometimes it’s hard to know what to hold on to and what to let go of.

With an open palm, the sand of trust can disappear between your fingers. But holding it too tight is futile as well. It takes two hands interlocked to keep the sands of friendship contained.

----------

Maybe the best way to view a special friendship is as you would a delicate family heirloom.

It’s so special that it deserves to be handled gently--with extra care. To do so, you see that the friendship is delicate and needs extra grace. Maybe it needs to be polished to keep its sheen or simply admired for its rust and memories. Regardless it’s an heirloom. It has meaning. It’s not to be thrown away but cherished.

Rules for a Knight

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Mon, 03 Sep 2018 17:41:00 +0000

The words below are from Ethan Hawke's Rules for a Knight.

Solitude: The voice of our spirit is gentle and cannot be heard when it has to compete with others. Just as it is impossible to see your reflection in troubled water, so too is it with the soul. In silence, we can sense eternity sleeping inside up.

The Present: Habit, routine, and too much consistency numb our minds and pave the road for us to sleepwalk through our lives. Nothing stays the same. Everything passes, and everything changes.

Friendship: Remember, a friend does not need you to impress him. A friend loves you because you are true to yourself, not because you agree with him. Beware of grand gestures; the real mettle of friendship is forged in life's daily workings.

Anger: If you are unable to control your anger, keep your distance and your mouth shut until you can. It is easy to intimidate or to make others feel small or afraid; this is not strength.

Aging: All of us are asked to surrender the superficial beauty of our youth and step towards something greater. We are being made ready for the spirit world. Each wrinkle is a crack in the shell of our conceit. Our conceit must be pulverized for the soul to fly.

S5: August 2018

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 30 Aug 2018 16:52:00 +0000

Haim poses for a silly photo. Courtesy of Tom Van Schelven.

Playlist:

Cheap Trick- The Flame

Haim- That Don’t Impress Me Much

Haim - I want You Back

Francis and the Lights - May I have this Dance Feat. Chance the Rapper

Still Corners - The Trip

Kurt Swinghammer - Canoe Lake

Golden Ears - Can’t Last

My Morning Jacket - Circuital

M83 - The Highest Journey

S5: July 2018

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sat, 21 Jul 2018 04:10:00 +0000

Playlist:

Chromatics - Lady
Alexisonfire -Accidents
Brand New -Soco Amaretto Lime
Lydia -Always Move Fast
John Lennon - Mother
Pink Floyd -Comfortably Young
Mewithoutyou - “King Beetle on the Coconut Estate”
Billy Currington -People are Crazy
Peggy Seeger -Gonna Be an Engineer
Patty Griffin - Making Pies
Underoath - Some Will Seek Forgiveness, Others Escape
Sam Harris -Why You're Wasting Your Life Away | The Truth We Are All Distracted From

S5: June 2018

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Sat, 23 Jun 2018 04:19:00 +0000

Photo of Slow Magic by Erika Reinsel.

Playlist:

Tycho - See

Slow Magic - On Yr Side

Jon Hopkins - Open Eye Signal

Ben Howard - Oats in the Water

Agnes Obel - Familiar

William Prince - Old Souls

Silversun Pickups - Lazy Eye

Frightened Rabbit - Get Out

Explosions in the Sky - First Breath After Coma

This Will Destroy You - A Three Legged Workhorse

Final Fantasy - The CN Tower Belongs to the Dead

S5: May 2018 With Guest Host Kellisa Ratzlaff

noreply@blogger.com (Nathan Frank) — Thu, 31 May 2018 03:05:00 +0000

Playlist:

0:00 Radical Face - Welcome Home
4:36 Koko Relleve - Mountainside
9:24 Twenty One Pilots - Car Radio
13:50 Rah Rah - Prairie Girl
17:35 Daughter - Winter
21:58 Lovedrug - We Were Owls
26:46 Touche Amore - Flowers &You
33:38 Bing Crosby - Beautiful Dreamer (cover)
39:00 Noah Gundersen - The Ocean
43:06 Andy Hull &Robert McDowell - Montage (feat. Paul Dano &Daniel Radcliffe)
48:18 Pedro the Lion - Priests & Paramedics
53:06 The Emerson Letters - Everest (See this Through)