IT'S THERAPEUTIC, AND BUILDS CHARACTER

Depending on what you search for, you can find it on the internet. If you're looking for love and romance you may be out of luck -- internet lovers and people that respond to dating site notices are a skeevy lot -- and fetishists abound, so caution is advised. More so even than in real life, where heading into a dark alley with a strange woman leads to your American dollars, passport, and a kidney being stolen.
No, I am not basing any of that on actual experience.
But I've heard stories.

Sometimes, whatever someone was looking for brought them here. Where, spider-like, I sit in my text-web awaiting the next visitor.


Underneath a post from over four years ago a reader appended the following comment:

"I used to smoke cigarettes and mostly cloves blends like Djarum. I was a heavy smoker of menthols like Newport and Marlboro Mild the Blue pack. I was smoking about a pack a day for 18 years. And then one day I decided I would invest in a churchwarden and get a variety of blends of pipe tobacco. And I have never gone back to smoking cigarettes. My house in the evening smells of vanilla and nightcap blends. Now I may smoke 5 bowls a day if that... But to me it is a forced meditation time. Time to reflect and ponder and to rest a moment. I have briar pipes that have long bent stems that I enjoy. But my favorite is the churchwarden ... "

See, that shows that pipe-smoking is a beautiful thing.
And by no means limited to a single gender.
Which is gratifying.


I myself smoke between two and five pipefulls per day, and if anything it contributes to mental health. As well as world peace, because without the benefit of a pipe, this blogger might wish to destroy society.
You wouldn't want that, would you?


There is presently no significant other in my life, regrettably dammit, which there might be if I did not smoke a pipe now and then. But she would then have to put up with a grouchy maniac. Pipes keep me sane.
The world is a better place because of it.
Enforced meditation.


Plus Hong Kong style milk tea in Chinatown regularly.
Hot, creamy, bitter, and intensely up-waking.
But that goes without saying.


I am waiting for my apartment mate to leave.
So that I can light up.



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