“2020,” written by Stephen King, film directed by Quentin Tarantino, and narrated Samuel L. Jackson.

Left my computer for half-an-hour, the god-damned blinking cursor pounding in my eyes giving me a headache.
Sat outside for a quarter hour, until it got too hot for me; only 98 and not yet noon.
Wonder what it’ll be like by three or four, zenith of the sun and the heat.
Wife has me back inside, helping with the door locks and some painting.
She going to the store to buy new ones, get them keyed.
Why it made me think of this I don’t know: a 1968 Chrysler Newport I was given.
1979 and the guy was getting out of the service, heading home to Cleveland, Ohio.
Didn’t want the car, gave me the pink and keys.
I learned the damned thing didn’t run.
Chrysler keys are easy to spot, to feel, they have a hexagon shape.
I know this because I owned a Dodge Charger, a Chrysler product, while in high school.
Maybe it was the idea of keying the house that sent me down that rabbit hole.
I got that car up and running and drove it all over the place.
Gave it to a woman working at a hamburger joint.
I didn’t need the oil-burning son-of-a-bitch anymore.
In fact, she needed it more than I ever did.
She was from New York.
She got herself abandoned by a boyfriend, heading west.
She found work, but always wanted to return to ‘upstate,’ and home
A Rosalyn Russell-type, 5-11, chunky, dark hair piled high, 42-D, bright red lipstick and nails.
Italian.
One hell of a woman, indeed.
The thought of her makes me wonder whatever happened to her.
Did she make it ‘upstate?’
Did the Newport crap out on her as she made the New Jersey Turnpike?
Is she alive still and if so how’s she faring through the pandemic?
Fuck, who knows.
I’m doing pretty damned good.
Think I was built for this shit.
Re-read a couple of novels by Kerouac and Steinbeck.
Read my first novel by Stephen King.
Felt like I was popping my cherry all over again.
Can’t remember what the hell the title was or even what the story was about.
Never really like the man anyway – his politics pisses me off.
Popular writer, though, can’t fault him on that.
Don’t understand why millionaires become Socialists as they get richer and older.
I have no plans to get rich, so nobody has to worry about me switching ‘sides.’
I’m trying to finish ‘Fear and Loathing,’ by Hunter Thompson.
Whadda fucking weirdo, what a fucking writer.
Never been a real fan of disjointed prose, but in his case, an exception has been made.
All this reading makes me wanna write even more.
Authored two books, both qualified duds, the second a worse failure than the third.
Should I make it an even three?
Third times a charm right?
“Very Short Stories from a Pandemic.”
or
“Pandemic Tales from Nowhere, Nevada.”
Got artwork for that; a picture I took a year or so ago.
No artwork, then it never existed.
No proof, then it didn’t happen.
Nothing is happening for now, save the ‘big wait.’
Simply waiting for the other shoe, boot, sandal, slipper to drop.
When it does, it won’t be any surprise if it ends up shoved in our asses, somehow.
Things were simpler back in 1979, the year a guy, whose name I can’t recall gave me a car.
Long time ago and not so very long ago.
Christ, I miss that Chrysler.
I miss me.

Singer Taylor Swift has made a career out of singing about her poor choices in men, and now she wants us to vote for Joe Biden.

It’s been a generation, perhaps two ago, and while I didn’t make a lot of money, I had enough to treat me and Adam to few soda pops and comic books from the Woodland Villa. I was nine, maybe 10-years-old, when I decided to take Dad’s wooden Ronson Shoe Shine Kit down to the Klamath courthouse at the corner of Redwood Drive and Highway 101.

Such childhood faith.

For ten-cents a pair, I’d apply some black or brown Kiwi polish to the shoe/boot offered, buff it in and then with an appropriate rag (brown or black) I’d shine them up. It was a lot of fun and looking back I think it took a number of men back into their youth and it may have relieved some of their stress of having to face Judge Hopper.

Nowadays, the majority of shoes I see worn out and about are clothe, a tennis shoe or sandal. And kids no longer know or understand the art of the shoe shine or the shoe shine stand.

Then one day the county decided to shutter the auxiliary courthouse, Judge Hopper retired shortly thereafter and like that, that was the end of my professional shoe shining days.

The showers ended
Sunshine and grass remain
Mosquitoes alive

I don’t cuss, but I do speak fluent Marine with a hint of trucker, logger and construction worker.

My pillowcase was such a mess and my pillow beneath it so damp, that I had to tumble it in the dryer and wash my case. You see, I’d been crying off-and-on throughout the night and morning while having the same basic dream.

Checking all the doors and windows each night before bed, making certain they are secure is a habit. So is helping our elder dog on to our bed, where he sleeps with us. Last night Yaeger refused to move from his spot on the couch. Since he was comfortable, I left him and went to bed.

Then three-times, maybe four, I dreamed that he had passed away while asleep on the couch. While I was sad that he’d died, I was even more sad that he’d gone while laying alone and without comfort. I couldn’t stop crying and my pillowcase reflected this.

Even now, even after waking, finding him okay, and even after having had my coffee, I cannot wrap my head around why I would dream such a thing. Perhaps, along with getting soft in the noggin, I’m developing a soft ticker, too.

In the end, I’m jus’ glad the old boy is still with us.

Payday candy bars should change its name because it’s offensive to people who refuse to work.

Awoke early this morning wondering:  “If God were to write the opening paragraph to my biography, what would He have to say?”

Fell back to sleep with this still on my mind. When I woke again, the thought remained.

It hung with me while mowing the lawn, then like a bolt outta the blue, this is what I heard: “I’ve known Tom all of his life,  even before he was born. And like so many before him, I created him in My image, gave him the mind of Christ and imbued him with free will.”

I’ve lost my freaking mind.

Ask me about my attention deficit disorder or pie or my dog, a cat. I have a bike. Do you like TV? I saw a rock. Hi.