There are so many ways to play it.

[^^^At a certain coffee shop in Milwaukie, Oregon around 10 a.m.]

I am not there now. I was, apparently, for several great hours of great sleep, but then I left home. When I returned I saw this:


That was hours ago now, and I am not there, but still thinking about it. There are three ways to play it (many more, but I am going with three):

Le Suet (a posh culinary hangout for birds and squirrels)

No suet/ Don’t suet it (not really my forte, but I suppose it is working for some people)

Blood, Suet, and Tears (this one seems about right, and worth it too)

I had seen the squirrel much earlier, stretching from the upper branch downward at a precise angle so as to break off a chunk of suet. Then he would back up (requiring incredible hip and upper body strength!) and perch while he ate, as squirrels do.

But then I left, and when I returned I saw that he’d left the little door open. I immediately, also, saw it as a metaphor, of course. Of course!

From the patio, I backed into my apartment, closed the screen slider and looked around.

I have a really nice stereo system.

I would sell it in a heartbeat and give it to the poor if I thought that I should do that right now (I probably will do that for the poor—sell it—or give it away, but I do not think that now is the time [space-time]). I have worked hard for years and built the perfect system for my price-point. You could buy worse for less money, but you would have to spend A LOT more money to have better. And this is the one that I have assembled over the years and upon/through which I play thousands of recordings that I have been collecting since high school. All the rest of this stuff is the same way. I did not take any of it. It is all free or saved or found or worked for, and is very nice. The only way to make it all better without spending way, way too much money was to buy an ostrich feather duster on Amazon for $8, and then use it once each week and before company, like I do. 

But I know that it can be even better.

Therefore . . .

[^^^Back home, on the patio. I am writing now on the patio after having started writing at that certain coffee shop, but now resuming and writing about being at that coffee shop and why I had to go there and how I recognized this in myself because of thoughts and feelings and I had to go be around people because it is not good for man to be alone. But I left there thirty minutes ago.]

{{Oh, sweet. There is J**** the mailman and he is pulling his truck over. Now he is leaning out his window a couple meters from my patio rail. I will take a break from writing. I found this place where I live because I used to be the mailman here and I asked about it cuz a year ago I needed a place and they showed me this very apartment. J**** and I catch up on USPS goings on and he says that everyone misses me and am I coming back |from retirement|and I say no with a chuckle and then we talk about all of life and he starts his truck and then he hands me my mail, pulled early from the bundle, and I go back inside and look at the feather duster because there is only one way that this could be any better . . .}}