IT'S JUST LIKE REAL LIFE

To be truthful, I'm rather enjoying the social distancing and the shelter in place that has been going on. I am not really a social creature, and have little urge to seek random company. I miss going to the chachantengs in Chinatown, but the main attraction of those places was, in addition to a style of food I like and hot Hong Kong milk tea, the fact that if you didn't want to be bothered, they left you alone to casually observe, and listen to other people talking. Which, given that Caucasians who can listen in on Cantonese conversations are not frightfully common, was easy.

[No, Cantonese do not talk about white people among themselves, they aren't saying nasty things about you. They often talk about food. Or relatives.]

Smoking my pipe afterwards while wandering around was enjoyable.
I still go down there at least once a week for groceries, but all the places where I liked hanging out and eating something are closed, or only doing takeout, and the alleys are far too empty. It's all so very quiet now.
The folks I would greet in passing seldom come out anymore.
And limit themselves to shopping.
Stockton Street.

Finally found this pipe again, exactly where it should have been. As an amateurish made item it actually smokes okay. It's certainly not the best pipe I've ever seen.

Drawing: Spray paint, marker, water colour brush, straight lines, and pencil, all features in the Paint™ programme, in various thicknesses. Then reduced.

My routine has changed quite a bit. First pipe of the day is around eight o'clock in the morning, just after coffee, and before I've devoured all the news on the internet. Many years ago I would read the SF news papers at the Caffe Trieste in the morning in North Beach, when they still allowed smoking inside and there was decent journalism in SF.
I haven't been there in over a decade.

Reading at cafes in my neck of the woods was long out of the question. And news papers are too old school everywhere except C'town, where people still avidly pour over the local chronicles at bakeries and cafes.
No less advertising, but more news.

The other major difference is that North Beach has way too many idiots bloviating, as well as artists, poets, important writers, and other poseurs.


Second pipe, mid morning. Then another cup of coffee, and some serious reading while arguing with the stuffed animals, who have strong opinions about a lot of sunjects. Surprisingly.

Third pipe sometime between lunch and teatime.
Fourth after tea, before twilight.
Fifth after night fall.


I don't miss human beings much. The stuffed animals are far better company, and don't say so many stupid things. Most of the time.

On the internet I can be choosy about my conversations.

I do have to go outside to smoke, though.

Where there are strangers.

TOBACCO INDEX


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