THE FABULOUS DEVICE

When I returned from my walk at in mid-afternoon, my apartment mate was in the bathroom humming the theme from Star Wars. I had no idea she had even seen any of those movies, and certainly I thought they were a load of bollocks, having seen many of them. Attack Of The Clones would have been a whole lot better if the ravenous beasts had actually eaten our heroes.
And, let's face it, Princess Leia was a galactic size drip.
Luke Skywalker is a monumental noodge.

Earlier, after doing her morning volunteer work, she went out and got our downstairs neighbors a coconut cake from the nearby bakery.
They do really fabulous stuff.

The pipe I smoked in mid-afternoon is one I bought from Thomas when he was still at Grant's on Market Street, well over a decade ago. He had found it at a junk store when out roaring around on his motorbike.

Shape-wise it matches another Kaywoodie I hounded Michael into finally selling to me at Drucquers when I worked there after returning to the United States. My shape. A shape I've been fond of since borrowing my dad's pipes while he was on vacation in London with his girl friend.
He had a wonderful time for two weeks.
And so did I.

Besides making sure that there was toilet paper in the house, and tonnes of coffee, and that there wasn't a mess when he returned (and that the building was still standing), I purchased an excess of Balkan Sobranie tobacco.
Yeah, spent the entire fortnight swilling coffee and smoking.
Even then I wasn't particularly social.
Didn't go out much.

It was cold this morning, the fog had come swirling in all evening yesterday from nightfall onward. Dense drifts blanketed this sector of the city, and my last two smokes of the day had been frigid affairs. But intensely enjoyable, because mist makes the streetlights heading up the street to the top of the hill glow more evocatively. Yellow orbs drifting in the haze.
Otherworldly and eldritch.

The only monsters out there were the occasionally passing dog-walkers, people hurrying home from restaurant jobs, and street people.
They didn't bite.

TOBACCO INDEX


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