Playing Uno next to 980 trillion gallons of fresh lake water. As the bumper stickers attest, "No Salt, No Sharks." Beautiful. Gimme a straw. 

Hey, fyi, Uno was developed in 1971 by Merle Robbins in Reading, Ohio.

He and his family mortgaged their home to raise $8,000 to have 5,000 copies of the game made. He sold it from his barbershop at first, and local businesses began to sell it as well. Robbins later sold the rights to Uno to a group of friends headed by Robert Tezak, a funeral parlor owner in Joliet, Illinois, for $50,000 plus royalties of 10 cents per game. 150 million games have been sold.

Uno includes 108 cards: 25 in each of four color suits (red, yellow, green, blue). It's fun to play with a cool PM hat, Ha.

"UNO!"

Our lungs inhale and exhale 18,000 - 22,000 breathes every 24 hours. Every one counts. 🙏

A few months ago, while waking up, I somehow saw an image in my head of blue pool chalk on finger tips, casually walking down a wooden walkway. Eventually made this attempt at creating a little scene around it. We frequented an old time 90 year old pool hall for a few years, like a couple times a year, and maybe it emerged out of that from a dream. 

Dusty Blue

A glistening gimlet eye, not shy.

Looking fly, untucked flannel, wood panels.

A ranch hand here to apprise.

The capsize, of a pool ball, far corner pocket.

Insouciant, buzzed focus,

His cousin Ernie can’t relinquish neurosis.

A dim silhouetted figure leaned against an opened door.

In the rear, no need to peer. 

Bone colored diffused daylight. 

By birthright, he might, with no fright.

A hot gravel lot three blocks away.

That’s not to say.

The emerald green cloth awaits. 

Cobalt blue chalk dust flakes.

White ball to striped, Burgundy 15 quakes.

A smooth tap in, his compadre took it on the chin.

The temporary czar of the bar, gold star.

Downs a shot of auburn whiskey.

$20 transferred onto the worn, walnut bar.

No car.

Ranch walks past a leaning broom out into the daylight. 

The residual blue chalk on his fingertips are.

Swaying to and fro. 

Swaying to and fro.

He’s content to be straying. 

A look left, steps over a blotch of pink cotton candy.

He’s feeling randy.

May visit Sandy.

Turns the corner.

To the former.

I've listened to "Perfect Day," by Lou Reed like 15 times in the last 5 days. I read all about it, asked ChatGPT if there are any interviews or factoids about Mick Ronson's piano playing, those classical flourishes..

Oh, to be a fly on the wall, listening to a Lou Reed chatting with David Bowie in 1972.. I learned it on guitar with my 8th grader abilities, but something is better than nothing.

Our son was getting ready to go out last Saturday night, JBL boombox bass'd up while showering. I Shazamed "Go Live (feat. Chief Keef, Ball Out & Tadoe) by Fredo Santana." Definitely gets the momentum to go out, going. I get it! 

Yesterday I pictured the time when my Dad bought me an A2000 baseball glove in 5th grade. I oiled a leather glove which was an interesting experience, put a baseball in it and wrapped it in twine, then slept with it, and put it under the mattress too at times. Then, for hundreds of games, a mainstay. Dad is gone for 7-8 years now, thank you, Dad. 

It's probably time to say something. I've got time now, and it's the first cold, grey Fall morning. Sipping coffee #2 in a quiet house and this is my view. It's all I really need. I just texted a Hello, Good Morning, how did you sleep, to my Mom.

There was a huge old Magnolia tree in front that we had to remove. We love trees, believe me, but it was black with mold on the inside and should never have been planted there. Btw, I've thought on walks in the neighborhood that would make for one short story, about the different reasons why a few different souls mis-planted a tree - it doesn't really become obvious until years later and maybe the planter is long gone by now. You'll see a big tree or big shrub smack dab in front of a front door or groaning at the base of the side and think, "a little too close for comfort..?"

So the Magnolia tree is gone (which was the main focal point on these coffee sipping mornings), and now the view is deeper and almost more end to end, left to right and right to left. I like the big tall rust red Pine(?)) tree across the street and the three kind've mangy trees that were overpowered by the massive, over arching Mahnolia tree, have a chance to shine and be noticed more. They look great to me and will improve with added light. The Sun is mostly on the back of the house and sets over to the right, to the West of course. 

This weather can put me in an artsy seeking mindset (unfortunately, I have to say scrolling on social media...) but it is relaxing to look at that subject matter as opposed to the news or celebrity or sports content. I stumbled on the trailer for a new indie film, called "Peter Hujar's Day," and two friends having a wide ranging conversation stemming from what was journaled as Peter's day on Dec 18, 1974. Love those types of conversations, they are so rare, for me at least. Talk about being Seen and Heard...

I think one of the reasons why I haven't, for instance, written a blog post here is because of the many time consuming Rabbit Holes I've gone down. Like, after watching the trailer, my insensate curiosity had me reading about who the director is, his background (gay married Jewish, living / raising their two kids in the same apartment building with the surrogate woman who bore them). Who wrote the book, the actors, their backgrounds etc etc etc. I closed the app in the kitchen, slippers on, made another coffee and shuffled over here to finally write something.

It's so quiet, can't you sometimes here like a distant ringing in your ears or the sound of air..? Ok, the first plane is heard outside.
What are all those people thinking up there, where are they from, where are they going? 

For whatever its worth, I hope to write something again, like soon.