AND PERHAPS THEY DANCE

In the middle of July an intelligent and likable elderly gentleman invited me to attend meetings of two groups of which he was a member, as he thought with my interests I would find them worthwhile. What I forgot to mention to him was that I am not really a sociable type. Sure, I can be polite, courteous, and friendly. Pleasantly groupish.
But it's not my natural thing.

Besides, I am the fellow who always derails discussion.
Sticking to the program leads to anarchy.

The other day I mentioned black cherries to the cigar smokers in the back room, in the context of an aromatic pipe tobacco that also contained black cavendish (almost always a souped-up component of blends) and Virginia ribbon (probably just filler in this case). This lead, evitably, to a long drawn out discussion about R&B music and singers popular during the Seventies. Which was their era. Other than occassionally interjecting a comment, I did not take part. I am not group-social, know nothing about their music, am not a cigar smoker, and I had things to do.

Later, much later, they were discussion their sex lives. Other than hanging around listening in from a safe distance, and marveling at what a bunch of outright filthy beasts they were, I did not say a word. There was plenty of room for snide comments, but it was one of the first times ever that they were sincere and vulnerable. Albeit it lamentably depraved.

Again, I am not a cigar smoker.


Regarding the groups of which the gentleman in the first paragraph spoke, the ones with an overlap of interests, I attended one meeting. It is doubtful that I will do that again. They're likable people though.


Pipe club once a month, elderly Cantonese at a bakery, back table at a chachanteng watching the regulars arguing politics with the sh*t disturbing bus driver (a very "eloquent" man). Plus pointing out to the head sheep why he's wrong, oh so very wrong, about the importance of his role or his furious objection to the she-sheep being considered wiser, plus countering the one-legged monkey's fantasies about acquiring a banana plantation with my credit card. Observing unstable street people from a safe distance.
And mentally talking back to cell-phone conversations nearby.

Once a week I'll head out late at night for conversation with a book seller and people watching, and a spot of karaoke. Neither of us sing.

We like some of the people at the place with karaoke.


It's a somewhat self-limited social life.


Yes, it could be better.


Some of my friends have expressed an interest on having me give them a tour of Chinatown, seeing as I know a bit about the place, speak passable Cantonese, and can read shop signs and the wall-specials at restaurants. Which is a rather minor ability. It might be less interesting than they think, seeing as I go there for tasty snackiepoos and a cup of milk tea, groceries (vegetables in particular, plus condiments and other flavouring ingredients), people watching, and also to enjoy a quiet pipeful without angry frumps objecting to the reek of my tobacco. Lunch, milk tea, smoke.

An hour of me talking would bore both of us.

Perhaps we could sit on a park bench observing the old folks playing cards, children running about, and tourists gawking at the strangeness of so many Chinese people all in one place doing completely normal things.


We could pretend that we are here to gather data for the invasion fleet.
Our kind don't know much about human beings.
We think they could be useful.




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