Somethin Somethin by Uncle Frank (Review)

Review of Somethin’ Somethin’ by Uncle Frank

Ah yes, back to a time I am more relevant to, post apocalypse, less than a century and a quarter into the stars.

The future is Now.

Enter : nuclear energy powered organic mariachi guitar strings, “Bladerunner: Unplugged”. It’s just a little “Somethin’ Somethin‘” that will keep the warm coasts chill and breezy , and the territories facing more northward warm and cozy.

Somethin Somethin by Uncle Frank

Somethin Somethin by Uncle Frank

Yet, the sadness at times of being solo , floating in this ice box amongst the heavens deep in the blacks of the scosmos, can momentarily engulf the individual. I think back on the great Zen-Lavian hero Norad. Or the Corellian Han Solo. So even with the empathy that one feels coming from the organic vibrations that bounce through the crystalized cochlea of the audio intake.

The system is a communion of a continuum of a current of chi, energy. Accepting the present, positioning the ship, flowing with the solar winds, riding and taking the necessary steps one at a time, as smooth as a well deserved ice cold brew over the space module dash board. You accept, you take in the DATA.

Navigate deeper in, focusing. Homing in, finding compatibility.

“Eureka! This She-Bot is absolutely outta this world! She is the finest of all model systems amongst all the stars! Perfect, the location is a quick 3.45 light years , over on the blue dot.”

We wrinkle in time and bounce on down to Earth, in the Milky Way Cluster.

It’s a pleasant neighbourhood, a we angle into the blue light, into wavelengths,into hotter than hell gases in the exosphere. blasts from the solar winds smash against our projected ballistic trajectory. We rip through like  Eddie Aikau would go and do if he was navigating our space deck right through the thermos, then skip and leap like jigging hillbilly past on through the tides of the aurora borealis .

Heading lower and lower until we the much talked about cosmopolitan of metropolitan centers , the renowned and great Star City.

Its good air traffic, so we cruise on through midtown, enjoying the grids and splashes of images and clips of post modern day homosapiens engaging in transferring pressurized air levels into conducting mathematical theorums in an attempt to break down and build up the chemical reactions crunched in each model system. It is sounds and images as we float in our space runner, and we feel the strengthening of the power of that one thing we searching for.

We park and beamon down to the ancient cobblestone cement corridors, so dark, dank, grey, almost like meteor moss and space barnacles.

Yet, rolling through this primitive environment on the outer crust of this Earth planet is all worth it!

We are relieved . That one tiny, most powerful , perfection, that organic element even amongst the coldness of the metal sheets of iv=ce and stars, that exhaling of that well deserved cig, that weird sci-fi collage amour prevails blindly! Hears to you Uncle Frank. Mahalo.

Review by SIPE Star Studio


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