At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Friday, July 22, 2016


Yesterday evening became enjoyable once I found the decent folks.
Who, unfortunately, weren't present when first I ambled in.

There were several small clusters in the place where I went for a smoke, many of which consisted partly or entirely of people I knew.

One can, surprisingly, be alone in crowd.

At this point I think I'll avoid the place for a while. Apparently I am not up to snuff as far as one group is concerned, although they did happily invite a crazy person to join them. Another group vastly preferred to spend their time while huffing cigars by playing Pokemon Go and making snide comments.

During my second pipe I ended up next to secular humanists and skeptics.
That conversation was enjoyable.

I still find it remarkable that the first group I mentioned clearly found a crazy person preferable. It diminishes the respect I had for some of the people involved, and I now suspect them of superficialist value judgments.
I am just default company, for when fewer people are around.
Strange crazy gentlemen are quite palatable.
If they smoke cigars.

Good luck with that, boys.

The weather is quite bearable at this time of year, and although parks are off limits to anyone enjoying a pipe, it is very well possible to find places to sit in the evening where no screaming anti-smoking fiends will harass one.
A little uphill from either Polk or Powell is good; the party butterflies, drunks, and bums, will not venture there.

I seriously doubt that I'll run into cigar aficionados while wandering around Nob Hill and Chinatown. Which is a damned good thing.

The 'Oxxy' always leaves me depressed now.

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