I SHALL NOT WATCH THE WARRIORS GAME!

No. I am sorry, Frenchie, but despite the blandishments I have no intention of dropping by Wingtip to watch the Warriors and talk philosophy. I despise sports and know that any possibility at all of intelligent conversation does not exist at those times.

Instead, I may meditate. Do some yoga.
Explore my navel intently.
With a comb.
Mm, lint.


Actually, I can think of almost nothing as dysfunctional as watching a sports game on television in the company of other people yelling and hooting. If I went, I would probably bring along a bunch of fresh bananas, precisely like I would if invited to tea by the monkeys at the zoo.
This is a lovely simian home you have here, ma'am.
Kindly do not fling your poo at me.
I have bananas!


My long term potentiation associated with sportive activities is to sneer, cringe, and feel irritated. It reflects a very narrow range of synaptic repetitiveness, but with extremely intense strengthening of signal transmission. That holds for absolutely ALL sports.
It gets more so with each iteration, worse as the season progresses.
I may barf if you scream approval of your team.
I couldn't name them if you paid me.
I am not interested.


UN VRAI BON 'HAMBOURGAIRE', PEUT-ÊTRE LE MEILLIEUR. NE OUBLIEZ PAS LE 'KETCHAPPE'!

Having a pipe or two at the Oxxy last night was somewhat enervating.
The musicologist was holding forth over at the bar (he really knows a stupendous amount, it's very impressive), so when The Mad Egyptian, Kong Chai, and Frenchie waltzed in, I gravitated toward the window table.
The area outside of the Gare Du Nord smells most phenomenally of urine, Paris is a city with majesty, Sam's burgers are one of the great late night feeds of San Francisco, and the complete absence of evidence is not reliable proof of the invalidity or non-factuality of a narrative.

Some people think with their nose: Parfumerie Jacqueline.
Ice cubes in Rosé? Très Parisiene!

They were all in higher spirits than myself.
I need a calmer environment today.
Perhaps a place with tea.


I rather like le Marais. Old buildings, lovely konditoreien, small eateries, and grand edifices. Cobblestone alleys, narrow sidewalks, old iron street lights. Alas, no place for 奶茶 and a 蛋撻, but one will never be hassled by böse Amerikanischen erde-mütter und wheatgerm freaks if one lights up a pipe and enjoys a smoke at twilight.

It is beautiful when it rains.





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