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.
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Thursday, July 26, 2018


It started two blocks away in the fog. I had listened to John explaining how relatives were hijacking his wedding, which progressed into staff from a nearby restaurant complaining about birthdays -- no, I'm not sure how those relate to each other, and I do not see a logical progression, but they do connect -- and I spent most of that time outside smoking. A mere two whiskies and water. Along with two bowls of Golden Glow.
Me and my temperate habits had a splendid time.
Soft billows of mist.

The intersection of the bar is lovely on a foggy evening. Everything beyond a half block distance fades to silver grey, it is dark underneath trees where the street lights do not reach, and except for the occasional weirdo or alcoholic stumbling past, one could imagine oneself elsewhere and in an other time. Sam Gawith's Golden Glow is a rich tasting broken blonde Virginia flake, the pipes are an old Peterson army-mount billiard (老過我!) and a rehabilitated Sunrise from Comoy.

Altogether the best end to a peaceful day.

Porkchops cooked with tomatoes over rice at the New Hollywood. A pipe in Beckett Alley, then purchasing a lottery ticket on Jackson. Finished the bowl on a bench in Commercial. Strong coffee when I returned home, and a long nap. I got bit by mosquitoes twice.
The itch woke me up.

For some reason I remember malaria.
Maybe I should put up the net.
Normally they hate me.

I am inedible.

The second pipe lasted till after I got home and fixed myself a hot cup of 田七 with coffee and ginger. I finished smoking before going into the teevee room. White cheddar cheese puffs are a perfect snack at two in the morning. Salty crunchy creamy.

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