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.

Tuesday, February 14, 2017


It must be Spring. The sun is out, birds are making noises, and people all over Facebook have posted weird stuff about the loves of their lives, in some cases wearing super-hero clothing. This blogger is quite uncomfortable with that. I am a single man.
Exhibitionists, subdue yourselves!

I've got the windows open, and I am wearing pajama pants and wife beater. It is unseasonably warm. The windows are opened because it is a day off, there is tobacco smoke in the apartment, my apartment mate (who is at work) is a non-smoker, her door is closed to keep the odour out, and she will be returning in about six or seven hours and won't wish to smell the lingering fragrance of my peculiarities.

After my bath I will buy lightbulbs, then head over the hill to Chinatown / Northbeach with some pipes and tobacco. It will be a blind date with myself. I may have some chocolate with myself, or entertain myself with my trademark goofy humour. I do not know. An adventure.


Two pipes came back from Schulte with new stems yesterday. They are identical shapes (BigBen apples, one smooth, one sand blasted), and the stems match. New stems were needed for aesthetic reasons, the old ones are perfectly fine, but I like slightly longer stems than is common, because pipe companies have not realized that the last few inches of space between the eyes and everything else make all the difference indeed to a middle-aged Dutch-American man who wears his reading specs all the time, as otherwise he would smack himself in the face with a teacup or ricebowl. Nearly lost a tooth a few years ago. Disturbing. Pipe companies like to believe that we are all sprightly young lads still gallivanting around the 'Quad', spouting snippets of English Romantic Poetry.
Or the Greek and Latin classics.

This does not happen anymore.

Besides, whereas pipe-smokers were considered "cool" back in the fifties, nowadays we are thought of as rapscallions out to corrupt the spongy minds of America's college kids, who must be protected from our fumes at all costs. We lurk in dark corners, to lure you into a life of shame.
Smoking is EVIL, and tofu is a great good.
Oh, and we carry disease.


Honestly, I would not mind corrupting someone fresh and collegiate, but spongy minds are a turn-off, and too many young people are unformed, indecisive, tattooed, and peculiarly self-absorbed.
And they aren't hep to a life of shame.
Which is very sad for them.

At heart, I am a romantic. I am also grouchy, and not very social. So my version of a life of shame is quiet and restrained, and besides pipes also involves copious amounts of tea, and a book-cluttered pigsty.
Plus the occasional spot of whisky.
No saccharin.

Anyhow, the BigBen pipes will be coming along, the tobacco is a mildly degenerate Virginia mixture with a shpritz of something floral-fruity, and there will be some milk-tea later.

Me and my pipes intend to enjoy the sunshine.
It will be great fun.

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


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