GLOOMITUDE

It has been cold and wet all day. Altogether very much like the Netherlands. Not frigid, not raining. But rainy. Drizzle. Dark and overcast. My apartment went and got us lunch, roast meat, duck, and vegetables. Plus rice, of course. She kind of went overboard, being a Cantonese American woman, who always thinks of good things to eat as unalloyed and unconditional methodologies for happiness. She also brought some food for the woman downstairs who is our landlady. Also a Cantonese American woman.
Who often does the same thing.

Good food does make happy much.
That's absolutely true.

I spent the afternoon using the paint program and occasionally gloom scrolling to see what that orange clown has been up to lately, as well as his pimps and enablers. If he were just a normal senile old fool, someone would have him committed or put on trail for any number of things. But the rightwing in this country is determined to protect him at all costs, and ruin us while doing that. So I did not go into the internet much. The darkness of the weather we're having here is more than enough to cast us down.


Before tea time I headed out with a pipe and enjoyed a bowl while puttering around the neighborhood counting things. Driverless taxis, dogs, tykes, couples, street people, and familiar faces. A neurotic mental glitch.

That is something I always do when heading to the further bus stop on work days. Usually there are more tykes, fewer dogs, and roughly the same number of driverless taxis. Familiar faces are also somewhat greater in number. There are three elderly Cantonese people who always wait at that time at the nearer bustop to head down to Chinatown. I expect that they have a set breakfast routine, and meet up with a friend or two at that time in the morning. Gracefully heading further into old age.

A fourth one gets off the Van Ness bus with his cane and strolls over to the bus stop on Clay. No hurry, calm of pace, jay-walking at the same spot, thoughtfully breaking the law. Which nowadays probably won't excite the police, but a few years ago could still get you cited. We allow sensible behaviour now. And only one person I know has ever been given a ticket for doing so. I still look both ways for traffic and a cop whenever I do it. Old habit. A neurotic mental glitch.

The pre-tea time pipe was an old Comoy off-brand Canadian from many years ago. It's a darn good smoker, exceptional, and extremely old-fashioned. It seemed appropriate for a day like today. There was a timeless quality to the air outside with the overcast darkness. The precipitation would not have been noticable if you were out there only a minute or so, but prolonged exposure would leave you damp. A coldness crawled up your feet from the concrete pavement.

A perfect day to smoke a pipe. But better inside.
Where I couldn't do that. Obvious reason.
Still. Quite pleasant.



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