THAT UNMISTAKABLE LOOK

Okay. My feet hurt. I would like to blame the Republicans. But it is doubtful that they could do anything about that, though they would not if they could. Bastards. It's probably because I've been up too long today, having risen at five thirty in the morning more or less for the jaunt to the radiology department for yearly up-check stuff. I've been down to Chinatown three times today. The second time was to purchase illegal ciggies, a lottery ticket, and a light dinner (韭菜湯餃'gau choi tong gaau') at around tea time.

Third time was for very temperate misbehaviour. That being the regular pub crawl with the bookseller, which involves his dinner (hamburger, fries, Sriracha), then cups of tea, plus a pint of Guinness, and a shot of Jameson's Irish whiskey.
I'm the tea drinker.

In this scenario Sriracha fills the role of both the vegetable with the meat and potatoes, as well as soup and salad. Because there must be balance. That's key to a healthy lifestyle.

All three times I was down there I smoked a pipe.

An elegant smaller Parker bruyere billiard, Charatan London made De Luxe prince, and a Dunhill bruyere billiard. Tomorrow it will probably be a Dunhill shellbriar hallmark banded billiard and a Peterson straight grain silver banded bent bulldog.

I'm sure I looked both dignified and dashing doing so.
Altogether exceedingly waspy.

A bit earlier I had noticed Tat Yee (達意) sitting with his pipe by the curb at Jackson Street (昃臣街 'jak san gaai') and Beckett (白話轉街 'paak waa chuen gaai'), having a smoke. He didn't see me, so I continued along Wentworth (德和街 'tak wo gaai') on toward Portsmouth Square (花園角 'faa yuen gok'). By the time the bookseller and myself passed through Tat Yee was probably at the karaoke place slamming the dice cups. We didn't go to the karaoke place. Much too noisy and full. A very loud Mandarin paean to the great war was playing.
It's been eighty years since the bandy-legged pirates were defeated.


For a while there had been a reek of marijuana toward Broadway; evidence of self-indulgent white bourgeois jugend enjoying their privilege. It had entirely dissipated by the time we headed down the street after the burger joint. Mercifully.
I do not like pot smoking. It's depraved.
And smells like it.



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