Saturday, July 21, 2012

CONFIDENTIAL PLACES

You know what I do on Saturdays, right?
Get up late. Soak in the tub. Eat in Chinatown. Wander down past the Pyramid and across California Street trailing fragrant wisps of tobacco.
Putz around at the office, read a lot and drink tea.
Then smoke a bit in a pleasant place.
Very 'contemplative'.

On Wikipedia: black holes, event horizon, big bang, Pierre Simon Laplace, a non-rotating body of electron-degenerate matter, Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi, Thai green curry ('gaeng kiao-wan'), the Mon Kingdoms in Lower Burma, Hanthawaddy ('Hong-Sawadi'), King Naresuan, famous sixteenth century poet Thomas Watson, Bengali films, Leela Naidu, Golconda Fort, Hyderabadi biriani.....

[Plus flying prophets (Balaam, Jesus, Judas Iscariot), Channeling for Gloria Gaynor, water in Hebron, Max Ernst paints a spanking, Florida Corporate Tax Return(s), a busy day for the religion of peace, mechonot, why men with loud motorbikes have small testicles, sexual frustration, samisen, stringed instruments, hair fetish.]


I am presently happy as a clam. That nice full feeling.
Rice porridge. Smooth, creamy, sensual.
A very late lunch, in a clean and brightly lit eatery, accompanied by Viet-style chilled coffee with condensed milk.

Weekends are for people watching, not quite so much people-interacting.
Chinatown is noisy, rambunctious, and there's fun stuff to eat.
The Financial District is peaceful, empty, private.
Both environments suit me differently.

First liveliness. Then the quiet.
Dreaming with the internet.


SMELLING CLEAN AND LEAFY

After twilight I often head two blocks over to the last smoking establishment in San Francisco. If you're the kind of person who likes reading this blog, you would almost certainly enjoy the place.
Weekends at the Occidental are not crowded; the tourists can't find it, the businessmen in town for conventions have all gone home, and the bankers and stockbrokers are back in the suburbs.
Just us folks there. Strictly local people.
No preening pinstriped roosters.

[Also delightfully absent: the tweezed eye-brow painted nail office ladies, who tolerate the reekiness of the Occidental in hopes of catching a prosperous professional who will maintain them in style, pay for their luxuries, abjectly accept their horrible tastes and attitudes, and who can then be savagely bled dry during a divorce several years later. These are usually well brought up white women who have a bachelor's degree in marketing and business administration and no appreciable education. When they aren't around, the frustrated sharks who normally lurk on the perimeter looking for incidental chum also stay away. Lovely.]


Today I've got a tin of aged Virginia and a sample of something richly sooty. It will take a few hours before I'm down from my highly-caffeinated state. Who knows, I may even go through a period of being social with other humans. A number of whom are actually on the same page; intelligent and involved people who are a pleasure to be among.

There's almost nothing better than a few hours in the evening with strong smells that terrify the little people.
Good tobacco is incomprehensible to the wishy-washy.
Strong coffee isn't suitable for weak minds.
Confident people eat rice-porridge.
And have conversation.
Also milk tea.

In another ten minutes I'm heading out.
If you see me, I'll be smiling.



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