Up on Jackson there are two deep awnings where under each a street person was sleeping safely sheltered from the precipitation, and the weather has improved, temperature-wise, so there may have been far less drowse-discomfort than a few weeks ago. Also, because of this, my feet no longer felt like someone was killing me from the ground up.
A perfect day to puff one's pipe and have a spot of tea.
And a perfect night for a pint of Guiness.
Which the bookseller had.
Dublinesque.
Late lunch a few hours earlier, comfort food (滑蛋蝦球飯 'gwat daan haa kau faan'). Slippery egg scramble with shrimp over rice. Augmented with sambal, washed down with regular tea and a cup of Hong Kong milk tea. Happy camper food.
VARIATION OF DRAGON (龍) IN SEAL SCRIPT
It's going to be a good year, I think. The parade is this Saturday -- won't be there to watch it, because it takes over four hours, there are nearly two hundred thousand viewers lining the route, the restaurants will be packed, I'll be tired from work, and it will probably rain -- but it should be wonderful. So gong hay, y'all, and san nin faai lok.
恭喜大家，新年快樂！
One minor blessing -- a major one, really -- was that not a single person was singing at the karaoke place. It's bad enough when middle-aged Chinese men do it (kind of like Kahn Souphanousinphone), but excruciating when twenty-something white people try to.
Y'all sound like Herbert. But much worse.
Tonight's pipe was a Dunhill 59 F/T group 4 Bruyere. The postprandial smoke was in a Charatan 260 Executive, early Lane period. Medium flake both times.
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