TROLL INVADING SLEEP

It rained in the evening. Which would not have been a problem except that I was out in the weather smoking my pipe while waiting for the bookseller to get down to Chinatown by bus. Fortunately there are awnings and doorways. To a certain extent, I think of myself as the troll lurking in the shadows, ready to demand passage money, or haunt little childrens' dreams daemonically. Come here, small person, I have fine Virginia tobacco!

Whereupon, in his or her nightmare, the little tyke runs off screaming into the hills.
Never to be seen again. They know that tobacco is evil.
And obviously I am a bad man.
Troll.

They're not permanently lost. We can still hear them screaming.
But that tobacco even exists has scarred them for life.

The alleyways were brighter and quieter because of the rain. Outside a substantially empty building on Jackson, a sleeper turned over in his slumber, shielded from the wet by the deep overhang, further down the open late grocery which has State Express ciggies had already shuttered, and the parklets were empty, even outside open restaurants.

Apparently North Beach, just beyond Chinatown, is ground zero for fatty inner thighs. Few of which were evident, because of the inclement climactic conditions. A pity, because America is all about fatty inner thighs, which explains both the Midwest and Deep South, as well as why there are so many gyms and twenty four hour fitness clubs in the coastal cities.

Minor blessing: not a single person singing karaoke at the final stop of the night.

It wasn't raining when we left, and the people on the bus were few.
None of them were obnoxious or insufferable.
Nor riotously drunk.

There were no Santas or frat-boys.



NOTE: The pipe tobacco was a fine aged product from Cornell and Diehl, a blend of red Virginias, which smells remarkably like Limburger cheese in the tin, albeit a wee bit more refined. It's something I can heartily recommend to juvenile delinquents, young ladies being daring and scandalous, or mature people with praedilections hiding in doorways.
Carolina Red Flake, small batch, 2022 vintage. Excellent.



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