Full moon. A gulfstream slipping into the sky. Clipping a cloud. The silence of Round Hill Road. The mutter of a highway in the distance. Cars going nowhere, but nowhere is our destination. From one day to the next and none of the passengers listen to Charles Brown.
ROUTE 66 by Charles Brown
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S_U5FJQkgH8
THree nights ago I sat at Mullanes, my local sports bar in Fort Greene, and watched the Bruins blow a 3-1 lead in regulation. The two teams played two periods of overtime before the bartender asked, "You want the sound on?"
"I don't know." I'm a firm believer in not changing anything during a game.
The other watchers shrugged and Jim switched on the play-by-play. Halfway through the 3rd OT Blackhawks forward Andrew Shaw caroomed a shot from the point off the stick and leg of two teammates past Bruins goalie Tuukka Rask.
"Well, guess that's a wrap." Jim was happy for the game to end.
"Yeah." I wasn't blaming him. It had been a good game, but I learned a lesson.
If a tree falls in the forest, someone does hear it.
No more changing anything.
ps I watched the Spurs-Heat game and the NBA's liberal use of commercials fucked up the flow of play.
I turned it off and wen to sleep.
Fuck David Stern and fuck all those Fritos and Ford pick-up trucks ads.
