AND YOUR LITTLE DOG TOO

It's body chemistry combined with modern medication: early in the day I feel perky and in top form, whereas by evening, even with a strong cup of tea, I'm rather limp. And I think a large part of that is amlodipine besylate, which despite the limpening effect is probably beneficial. The low temperatures shortly after dawn are not so draggy either.

Another difference is that the first pipes of the day taste better. Quite excellent! Even if the entire neighborhood is out there walking their furry poo-factories over the blasted heath of Nob Hill, no matter. I shall glower at them, puff, and wonder if there is a suitable local coffee shop without oatmilk lattes, that has a sheltered terrace, and staff that's too lazy and apathetic to object if I commandeer a corner for a cup and pipeful.

After all, all the vegan new age hippies with their bourgeois anti-smoking fury are inside, and have entered through the other door too bleary to even notice the old crotchet outside perfuming the air with his smoke.

There's one location which would be absolutely perfect. It's a corner spot near the top of the hill, currently a defunct office of some sort, with appropriate bleakness and no trees for the hounds to sniff and pee against. The north side would catch the morning sun, the western window wall would be perfect shaded shelter. Just put a table, a rattan chair, and a windscherm there, plus ashtrays, and pretend it's in Amsterdam.
Yeah, not flat, no canal, and on a hillside.
Imaginary Amsterdam.

Add a small good Indonesian restaurant somewhere nearby, a shop selling antique ceramics, and a second hand bookstore with an extensive selection of foreign language literature and obscure reference books, and the soymilk matchaccino crowd would probably avoid the neighborhood. Which would be an ideal situation!

No more highly individualist tattoos, no more ripped jeans, no more colourful ethnic rags from somewhere south of Buttachengotenanga. No more Karens-in-training, or downtown techno yuppies. No yorkies or chihuahuas!

A man can dream.


Speaking of dreams, just before waking up I was painting a lacy transparent insect wing with irridescent and reflective areas. Species unknown. One of the clean bugs.
A very warm weather image.



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