THE DAEMONS IN THE DOORWAYS

Left the building a little after midnight, hoping that there would not be a bum in the portico. Last time there had been, and I used the side gate. Which cannot be opened from the street without an appropriate key, which I did not have. Stepping over someone asleep is always uncomfortable, because they could wake in a panic and strike upwards.


"Your honour, the shadow of an ogre rose over me, and I struck him!"


I'm not sure what the legal status of my goolies is in a case like that.

This is San Francisco. So probably "at fault".


Across the street a young couple happily conversed in the entry way of an apartment building, behind the iron gate. Dormant street people would not be a concern for them, but neighbors possibly disturbed by their audibility might be (they were distinct and intelligible even from a distance). A room temperature discussion in an otherwise silent street is mildly discordant so late at night. But they sounded sober and rational. Here, that's slightly unusual.

Normally I don't go out for a smoke quite so late.

Before Covid, I'd occasionally head over to the patio of a nearby establishment to enjoy a pipe outside with a sparkly non-alcoholic beverage, or once a week go to Chinatown-Northbeach to meet an old friend for an hour or so of chitchat. And I miss doing that.
Nowadays one tends to shy away from conversation a bit.
There is a little more night-time quiet.


When I returned from my walk the young couple opposite were cuddled together, talking more softly. Indistinct. Comfort, and warmth.


The day is coldest between just before tea time and around seven or eight, when it's windy. That's accentuated by the effect of blood pressure medication -- the body's ability to deal with temperatures lessens as the chemicals cycle through, reaching lowest ebb at roughly nine or ten hours after ingestion -- so mornings, with no chill breezes, and the medicines wearing off, are perfect. I normally take my pills around seven in the morning, with the first cup of coffee, before heading out to smoke. Sometimes at that early hour I have to tread carefully when opening the front door. I don't want to wake up the old fellow sleeping there.

This morning it's going to be one of my father's old briars.
His pipes always remind me of the post-war years.
Before I was even born.

TOBACCO INDEX


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