I AM A CROW

Yesterday, while bidding members of the pipe club adieu in the evening, I stooped to pick up a blinky thing that caught my eye. A shiny new quarter. This morning I saw something pretty on the pavement while smoking my pipe. A dragon fly pin with little facetted stones. Which I collected before moving on. A pipe which I acquire recently has a broad silver band. Nice.

The stuff my apartment mate gave me for my birthday, which we're celebrating today because I was at work yesterday, were very handsome pieces of ceramic by Hsin-Chuen Lin, one of my favourite artists, whose sense of shape is delightful. And an etching of a turkey vulture, which is striking. The bird looks confident and snarky.

Yeah, okay, birthday. I turned sixty five. Which I'm loathe to admit, because it basically means I'm no longer a bright young man. Even though I don't feel a day over forty.

Which is not uncommon among people on the spectrum when they reach any antiquity of age. My apartment mate, for instance, has rather teenage characteristics, despite being considerably older than a high-schooler. No, I shall not divulge details.

And for many years I rather fancied myself very much like the cheerful young college man at Harvard with his pipes and tweeds, tutoring bright young ladies in Latin and Algebra, for two reasons: It provided him with funds for delightful little pastries at tea time, as well as expanded his dating opportunities considerably.

Plus a bottle of sherry on ocassion.

Even at this age I do not feel grown up.

Nor do I wish to particularly act like it.

In fact, the chief bright note about it is that I now get Medicare part A and B, and those dreary phone centre wallahs no longer have any excuse to try and rope me in. Knowing full well that the subcontinental trickster hasn't been born yet who can understand Cantonese, I had taken to answering my cell-phone in that tongue, rather than playing in Hindustani -- which is rusty after all these years in any case -- and hundreds of depondent desis, Rajiv, Deepak, Mohit, and others have sadly been disappointed that they could not get me to grant access to my private information, banking details, numbers, etcetera. Better luck next life, ji.


"Hello sir, I'm calling from Medisham to speak to you about exciting changes in Medicare Part A and B, how old are you?"

"Wei, nei hai pin go? Ngo m-seung tong nei gong, ah."
喂，你係邊個？我唔想同你講啊！


Can I interest you in some Latin phrases?



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