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.

Saturday, April 08, 2017

THINGS STUCK IN MY HEAD

When I returned from an afternoon eating and shopping in Chinatown yesterday the apartment was empty. My apartment mate was off seeing her boyfriend -- she had obviously been in, as her door was ajar and there was water left in the tub for flushing -- and the first droplets of rain were falling. It had been a splendid day, warmer than I expected, and lunch had been very enjoyable indeed. The television set at the chachanteng was playing a hero epic set in far-off times, with a woman dressed as a man as the hero. Judging from the costumes, Tang Era or earlier. Our cavalier was extremely attractive, made even more so by the poetic look and fine-boned face that the man-drag only accentuated.

The Portuguese Chicken Rice was not very exciting. But the garlic bread (that's a first in a Chinese restaurant!) and the ambiance made up for it, plus the Hong Kong Milk Tea had 玫瑰紅茶 in the blend, which is very old school and precise. And they have Sriracha hotsauce.

Across from me a young mother and a friend were having lunch, taking turns to hold the sleeping baby. Actually it was unclear which of them was the mother, which the friend. Maybe they were two mad sisters who decided to run off with a random infant. It's possible.

They'll ditch the little fellow once he wakes up and starts squalling.


Post-lunch interval: pipe smoke, purchase of vegetables and coffee. Then more milk tea and an egg tart in a place surrounded by rackety old people speaking Toishanese. Another pipe, and a stroll down to the parrots at Sue Bierman Park.


Fast forward six hours. On my way to Walgreen's I passed an old man eating from a bag of nuts while studiously taking in all the dildos in the window of Good Vibrations. Possibly a personal interest, more likely simply fascinated by the "ergonomic" shapes and startling colours.
In his day, dildos only came in one colour, one speed, one size.
It wasn't until the war that Navy Blue became available.
My heavens, whatever has this world come to?
Orange, army green, violet.
How nice!


[No, far be it from me to question an old fellow about his thoughts regarding electric-hued flexibrators. It would be an invasion of privacy to do so, nor do I really want to know. If you are curious, however, you should lie in wait for him. The store is between Clay and Washington, and maybe he'll be back.]


If it weren't for the nearby establishment, this blogger would probably never even ponder the dildo. Modern technology is miraculous.


They're quieter now and more interesting than when I was a kid.


Don't think of dildos, don't think of dildos, don't think of dildos.


Get all those dildos right out of your mind entirely.


That's not where they're supposed to be.


[Why the Oxford Comma is not useless: "Highlights of Peter Ustinov's global tour included encounters with Nelson Mandela, an 800-year-old demigod and a dildo collector."]


I never really noticed before, but the lady at Walgreen's who rang me up has a very warm and lovely smile. I've been acquainted with her for a few years now, and was pleasantly surprised to find out that she worked there. It's always nice when people recognize one outside the familiar places, as usually white people among a mob of similar types are a bit invisible.
Earlier three people had happily recognized me on the street.

Although two of them addressed me as 'Mr. Chou'.
Which is peculiar and disturbing.
Who is Mr. Chou?


Some people have wonderful smiles. My apartment mate, two women at Walgreen's, the elderly Burmese fellow at the bakery, and the old lady whose daughter in law has taken over the restaurant on Clay.
Plus the little girl who observed me lighting my pipe.
Such things bring sunlight into a rainy day.


[One thing to remember is that I am bearable in small doses. Perhaps even likable at times. This blogpost is probably too much for most people. They've very likely tuned-out by now.]



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2 Comments:

  • At 10:15 AM, Anonymous punctiliously amphibious said…

    There is absolutely way that the Oxford comma is useless. It is the last vestige of civilization.

     
  • At 10:38 AM, Blogger The back of the hill said…

    You must mean "absolutely NO way etcetera".

    In which case, yes. Along with saucers underneath teacups. Very important.

     

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