SPRING ON THE GRAND CANAL

For some reason I was at a waterfront café in Sausalito, naked, writing a sports article for a local publication. It was going to be illustrated. And tidy whities were involved, that were helpfully on the table. Passers-bye did not remark on this.

I've never liked tidy-whities, they're too constrictive, and the material is too thick. Helpful bystanders cannot rip them open in an emergency or when one needs to breathe. Also, I am never naked outside my dwelling, haven't sat at cafés in Sausalito, though I pass through there often, and I'm totally uninterested in sports.

Conclusion: it wasn't me.
Maybe someone else.

I vastly preferred the earlier dream. A three month tour of the Grand Canal, in early spring, from the capitol down to Suzhou, stops at fifteen or sixteen scenic towns and villages along the way for several days.

Because of blood pressure meds my dreams are often vivid, and remarkably memorable.

Repeat: I am not a nudist sports writer.

So the question is NOT where would I rather be undressed and writing about sports, Suzhou or Sausalito, but instead where would I rather find myself?

On the one hand, delicious fresh water fish, fatty pork, and lovely dumplings.
On the other, overpriced tourist trap cafés and boutiques.
And constrictive men's underwear.



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