AMPLE PARKING

Let's divide the day into three blocks. The first block had one of the less gaga gentlemen in the backroom telling another one at great length about the time a few years ago that he and someone else had gone to Vegas. They stayed at a hotel, which he recommended doing. He had shaved a number of times while there. "When I do the left side, I go clockwise, whereas on the right it's always counter clockwise. It's a game changer."

"Clockwise, counter clockwise. Game changer. Stunned you, stunned you!"

[Good lord, man, that's ... thrilling!]

By the time of the second block, other gentlemen had arrived, no doubt chased out of the house by their better (and saner) halves. Vituperation, political arguments, and gibbering commentary about the game. "You're a moron, you know that? A moron."

The third block was taken up with buffing pipe stems, one of the worst lunches I've eaten, and pleasant discussion with a friend who had dropped by while ignoring the monkeys.
I really should have offered him a cup of tea, but I forgot.

Rotten stone, fine grit, and Pu Erh.

My friend tried a bowl of Steamworks, a very fine flake by Jeremy Reeves at Cornell & Diehl, which to me is as good a replacement for some long discontinued tobacco products as one will ever find. A limited edition, which goes very well with either pizza or tea.

I mentioned the pizza (Jeremy is also a wood-fire pizza chef) particularly because I would have vastly preferred a big slice of pizza over the miserable and far too salty convenience store sandwich that I had; even with gobs of hot sauce, it still tasted like crap. Cheap all American crap. Marin County, as you know, is the middle of the country distilled for prosperous suburbanites.

While I wouldn't live there if you paid me (being quite comfy in my digs in San Francisco), my esteemed coworkers love the place and couldn't live anywhere else. They appreciate the proximity of crystal healing, gluten-free vegan delicacies, colourful ethnic clothing, and Mercedes or BMW vehicles without which no one could possibly live.
As well as Ferraris and Porsches. For better living.


There is very little to eat in Marin.
And sambal doesn't exist.



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