At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Friday, July 26, 2013


Sometimes this blogger answers serious personal questions. Not very often, as I am a cagey old skeeve, and wish to maintain a sense of privacy about certain matters -- especially if there is no indication that the querent is a nice young female person with good taste, a keen intelligence, and an unusual sense of humour, who wishes to know more about me so that she can decide to jump my bones after a suitable number of dates at coffeeshops, bookstores, and quiet restaurants that serve both pork and seafood -- but once in a while a detailed response to the inquisitive element is required.
Or an interesting thing to do.

Name-withheld-by-request asks:
"Surely there's more to life than endlessly waffling on about milk-tea, pipes and tobacco, and wandering around Nob Hill and Chinatown pretending to be a badger?"

Yes, I suppose there is. However you may have noticed that I am comfort-obsessed. I am a middle-aged man without a girl-friend at present, so roses - violets - gardenias, romantic ballads, dancing the tango, and starlit cruises, must all fade from the picture.
Milk-tea, pipes and tobacco, and wandering parts of the city in a wild-life capacity are consolation.

In lieu of soft soft kisses, a satisfying dose of sweet Virginia flake.

Instead of holding a hot little hand, I grasp a cup of warm milk-tea.

In the place of certain depraved activities which cannot described in detail on a family blog such as this -- suffice to say that they are extraordinarily enjoyable when two people do them -- there are long jaunts down familiar streets, during which I snuffle and growl, and occasionally frighten children and tourists.

A man must find things to do which take his mind off those subjects that have proven themselves impossible to take one's mind off of.
I constantly think of love and sex and hot little hands.
At this very moment I am having milk-tea.
Soon I shall load up a pipe.
And take a walk.

"Surely there's more to life than endlessly waffling on about milk-tea, pipes and tobacco, and wandering around Nob Hill and Chinatown pretending to be a badger?"

Yes, there is more to life than that; for instance, there's doing all of those things with someone else. Together we can drink milk-tea, smoke pipes, and be wild animals.
Between the two of us, tourists and little children will experience both surrealism and terror. Germans, Frenchmen, and very small people, all will run away screaming "alors, les Americains sont assez bestial, il faut s'enfuir, et alerter les autorités!"

Well, except for the Germans. They don't deal well with other people's languages. They might say "wir müssen die behörden alarmieren, den die Amerikaner sind ziemlich bestial", but whatever comes out of their mouths will sound like they are having issues with hairballs.
Strange ideas about personal hygiene, those Germans.
The cleaner ones are contortionists.
It's quite a talent.

There. I hope I have more than satisfied your curiosity.

You wouldn't happen to be female, would you?

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.

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  • At 8:26 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    "Surely there's more to life....?"

    Perhaps you are reading this the wrong way. Perhaps the inquiry comes from another long time reader who longs for the past when this blog was one of the few go-to spots in the blogsphere for astute commentary on a wide range of geo-political and religious issues.

    Seriously, why do you think young women of quality and intellectual curiosity would be drawn in by inane prattle, anyway?

  • At 11:40 AM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    There are tons of spots where one can go for astute commentary. And most of those bloggers are, unfortunately, in a state of permanent conflict with readers, many of whom intend to smack down any and all astute commentary.

    Blogs are an artificial construct that draw in people from hundreds of miles away. The real world is less than five miles across. I have fewer friends in the blog world than people with whom, because of prior content on the blog, I now must refuse to associate in the real world.

    I am less fond of the real world than I used to be.

  • At 11:43 AM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    I note, by the way, that the blogosphere is sodden with people blaming Obama for their aunt's gout.
    They have tons of readers. Tons of fans. Tons of commenters.


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