A MONTH OF TUESDAYS

Earlier there had been only one customer in the karaoke joint when we were heading to the hamburger place. The bookseller and I passed the karaoke bar afterwards again, when it was shockingly loud and disruptive. About seven blonde women inside seemed to be summoning the devil with a half chant half scream jag. It sounded evil.

We decided, naturally, that life was too short for that.

That wasn't singing. Not even close.


When we got to miss Vivien's (she's off on maternity leave, but I can't remember the name of her replacement) we discovered that the Warriors had won their game. Which means nothing to me, but other people were mighty pleased by it. Evil had been defeated, the fair maidens braided flowers into their hair, widows and orphans had food again, the armada sank, and exiles returned at long last covered in gold and pearls. Huzzah!

If from the passage above you deduce that basketball means bupkes to me you are very smart. Ganz ein hundert prozentig bupkes. More bupkes than that it cannot be. Eleven.

Blondes and basketball are not important things in my universe.

For the next month my customary Tuesday late lunch place will be on vacation, which upsets my apple cart a bit. There are other places -- may go to the clay pot place before my teatime pipe, if it rains -- and they deserve their break. The Charatan prince will probably not be a Tuesday briar in November, but the fat bruyere billiard for after nightfall stays in.
The world is irregular; one should not abide by that.
Milk tea and a meal. Then pipe and a walk.
Another pipe before more tea later.
Stay up till the wee hours.
Too much tea.


Got a weird tooled item that looks gnomish and like a Custom-Bilt knock-off. Decent smoker. Eccentric. Perfect for a month out of whack.


The bookseller will be in New York for several days later in the month, which coincides more or less with my angioplasties, during the week of which routines will be up in the air anyway.



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