AH, MEMORIES

Facebook reminds me of things from the past. Stuff I posted, which at the time reflected something reasonably true about my life and what I was thinking at that time.

A long time ago:
Santa Con this coming Saturday. Intend to miss it. Hate drunken elves, and puking red-clothed perverts. Stay sane, stay sober. And bah humbug.

Somewhat more recent:
The local market carries gluten-free whole wheat tortillas. That's it, a sign of the end-times. The millennials are ruining the world.

And then:
It only seems like yesterday when I was a Trotskyite race-hating homosexual, neurotic, heathen, liberal, Jesuitical, a neo-nazi, a communist, a very well-trained Christian critic of the Talmud, and a savage Christian-hating Jew.


And also this wonderful map of our country:

That map is still accurate social cartography.
Quite.


Also, it's exactly eight years ago since I started avoiding a nearby place where I had been accustomed to buy a drink or two and then spend most of the time in the downstairs portico quietly smoking my pipe, leaving my drink on the bar to mark my spot. On slow evenings that usually presented no problem. But over time the clientele changed, and lets face it, a middle-aged pipe-smoking loner is not exactly the warmest presence. So even though I tipped well, and didn't bother anyone, I no longer felt as welcome as I once had been.

They are no longer in business. Changing clienteles do not translate to increased prosperity and joy in the world. A few of the regulars are still in the neighborhood, but some of them have regrettably passed away, which dismayed those of us who knew them.
Others have simply gotten older. Not me, of course.
I'm still the same as I was then.
Just better at it.


What this world needs -- meaning what the neighborhood and this blogger need -- is a place where once can have a cup of Hong Kong milk tea in the evening while smoking a pipe on a secluded back patio with an awning and a light source bright enough for reading.
I think that there are enough elderly geezers here to make it go.
Not me of course, I'm not at all old. Not "old" old.
I'm young, springy, and vibrant!
Muchly.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================