ONE PICTURE REALLY IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS

Maybe 'eat lard' is a euphemism?  The British are known for discrete circumlocution, so it is quite possible that 'eat lard' means something else. 
On the other hand, it could be meant literally.  They have strange ideas of romance over there.

Whatever it is, it must be good for you; these two have excellent teeth.
Quod erat demonstrandum.

File under: 'Fun stuff to do together'.



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THE SEASON FOR FRUITS

A merchant on Stockton Street in C’town was prizing her wares at the top of her lungs. She need not have bothered – her stuff was selling like hot cakes – but it was probably instinctive behaviour. Certainly it did no harm to yell out how screamingly excellent the product was, and it likely even encouraged the frenzy around her crates.
Men and women scrambling like mad, desperate for a purchase.
A horde of rabid piranhas with a sweet tooth.
She was selling strawberries.


士多啤梨 SI-DO-PEI-LI

There is no real Chinese word for strawberry (草莓 tsou mui), as it is not native to China. It is nevertheless extremely popular, not only eaten fresh, but also utilized in wafers (威化 wai-fa), cakes (蛋糕 daan-gou), muffins (瑪芬 maa-fan), candies (糖果 tong-gwo), and cupcakes (蛋糕仔 daan-gou chai).

Explanation: 草莓 (tsou mui): straw berry. 威化 (wai-fa): 'domination transforms'. 蛋糕 (daan gou): eggy cake. 瑪芬 (maa-fan): 'agate fragrance'. 糖果 (tong-gwo): sugared fruit. 蛋糕仔 (daan-gou chai): eggy cakelet.

The first digraphemion (草莓) is a direct translation more commonly used by Mandarin speakers, and you will note that the second (威化) and fourth word (瑪芬) are in fact transliterations of the English terms, much like 'si-do-pei-li' itself, which though not originally from the Chinese world, is now very familiar to the inhabitants of Hong Kong, and very much appreciated. 
Nothing quite beats a thick slice of  士多啤梨蛋糕 with lots of  鮮忌廉 (sin gei-lim) whupped all over it.  Yummy!

Another fruit presently available is the cherry.


車厘子 CHE-LEI-JI

More or less literally "vehicular thousandth-fractional thingy", in which the last character functions grammatically, rather than imparting a significant component of meaning - not that any part of this term imparts meaning, really. It's strictly a phonetice reading. Remarkably, there already is a Chinese word for cherry: 櫻 (ying); the only context in which you might see it is 櫻桃批 (ying-tou pai), which alas is seldom found in C'town.
The word 櫻 is of respectable provenance, attested by ancient literature.
Che-lei-ji is a typical Cantonese locution, rather than Mandarin.
This fruit is also popular, but not used in as many ways.

I would've thought that cherries would have been a far better seller than strawberries, seeing as you can sit on your front-steps eating an entire bag and spitting out the pits, aiming at the pigeons. That would be a splendid way to while away an hour or so.
Cherries are far sweeter and juicier than strawberries too.
But perhaps the texture and fragrance make a difference.

I remember hunting for wild strawberries during summer, and climbing over walls to steal the red red cherries of our neighbors in Valkenswaard, as they would do when our drupes ripened.
Both seasonal treats bring back memories, and sweeten the season.

But there are three other fruits that I anticipate as fondly.


龍眼, 荔枝, 枇杷 LUNG NGAAN, LEI CHI, PEI PA

The longan (龍眼) and litchi (荔枝) ripen at roughly the same time, and for the past few weeks huge bags of succulent litchis have been available. Both fruits are similar to each other, having a skin or husk that separates fairly easily, translucent sweet refreshing flesh, and a pit within.
The "dragon's eye" (longan) is so named because it resembles an eyeball, having translucent flesh through which the dark pupil can be seen.
It is often used dried, in sweet soups and desserts.
Litchis are best eaten fresh.

The third fruit I mention, loquats (枇杷 pei-pa) will start maturing in a few weeks, right when summer turns miserably cold in San Francisco. Already little golden orbs can be seen on some branches, smaller than normal, among the green bulbs barely visible among the glossy leaves.

[Loquats were mentioned in two previous posts on this blog: The Right Season for Loquats and Gold and Grey.]

To my mind there is almost nothing more beautiful than clusters of ripened loquat, on a plate or surrounded by dark green leaves.
It is the only thing that makes frigid summers bearable.

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SMOKING BADGER

The internet exists, as you have undoubtedly heard, primarily for three things: cute kitten pictures, recipes, and smut. 
Sometimes these categories overlap. Sometimes they are carefully differentiated.
This blog contains only ONE of those things.
But not all of my readers know it.
As my blog stats show.


SEARCH KEYWORDS:

smoking badger   
cherie chung chor hung   
crab foo yong   
旧金山 人仁餅屋   
anal tobacco   
anarch zionism   
at the back of the hill   
badger pipe   
balkan tobacco blends   
bestiality   


The first item on the list describes me. I am the smoking badger.
Yes, my dear, I am that. Your long search is over.
You found me. So very very lucky!

Especially if you resemble Cherie Chung.
Or maybe not, but it really depends on you.
Do you have ANY similarities with miss Chung?
Do please let me know, as I am anxious to find out.

The next two search criteria after the very nice young lady (ms. Chung) are food related (crab foo yong and 舊金山人仁餅屋). This is commendable. You like to eat. And I also like to eat. We should exchange notes.

What comes next is just weird. Please get help.

Excepting the very last keyword, I can understand the remaining searches.
Perhaps the person looking for 'bestiality' is doing a term paper?
If so, I wish you the very best of luck.


For the week, the keywords have been:

at the back of the hill (16), naked school girl (11), sex with horses (6), cherie chung chor hung (4), lukum (4), sex with monkeys (4), smoking badger (4), atthebackofthehill (3), naked school girls (3), non-tobacco pipe blends, phoenix, az (3).

I must say I'm somewhat disappointed. There are far too many naked school girls, and not enough people looking for badgers. Life is not about naked schoolgirls.
In the abstract, perhaps, they're an interesting concept.
But much less appealing than badgers.
Badgers who smoke are HOT.
Surely you knew that?

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PLEASE, NO MUSIC

Over the weekend I attended a festival. Normally I stay away from events that attract the multitude, as sharing a happy mood and thoroughly mediocre food with thousands of other people does not appeal to me. I am not a crowd person.
At times, I am not even social. Just let me back myself into a corner with my stinky tobacco products, a machine gun, and a book of romantic poetry, and I’ll be fine.
Honest.

Had to exit the venue regularly, as smoking on-site was not allowed. Re-entry meant standing in line so somebody incapable of cracking a smile could run a metal detector over me checking for wires and explosive devices.
No, I’m not packing.
My mouth may actually  be the most dangerous thing on me.
It’s fully loaded. Locked, cocked, and ready to kill.

Not much scope for verbal offensives, though, as there was live music at this event.
Very serious and sincere live music, which interfered with conversation. Because I’ve got a hearing defect, ambient sounds make even close range speech hard to understand.
You can probably imagine what amplified joy-noise does.

I don’t know what possessed me.
If I could exercise real choices over what goes into my ears, it would be sweet nothings whispered by a young lady, q-tips, my left and right pinky, a warm wet tongue, and the occasional pen-cap when it itches.
Plus ointment when the fuzzy tissues require soothing.
Not seven hours of amplified mixed nuts.


Awoke shortly after six A.M. to get there for set-up at eight-thirty.
Had a screaming head-ache by ten in the morning.
Hot day, very bright sunshine.

Still, I did learn that if it’s a glorious day, one should not wear a sheer red dress – the streaming sunlight makes it nearly transparent, and the exact shape of the legs (from calf all the way up to the belly button) will be clearly discernible.
I’ll have to remember that for future reference.
As an example and cautionary note.
I should not wear sheer.

On that particular person, it looked good, however.
Her innocent ignorance of the effect was also nice.

I’m glad I went.
I had fun.


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THIS HURTS

You know of course why it's called a "stream of consciousness", don't you?
'Cause it's like a sewer.
Truer words, dude, truer words.

Dildo Bob was in fine form. Gibberant.  Tried telling me that Asians had never been discriminated against.  Unlike blacks (perhaps) and gays (oh definitely).  This because the sexual preference tee-shirt of the Vietnamese American bartender seemed to his mind to indicate a dislike of Caucasians.
He felt insulted - Viet Am ero-pride by a straight gentleman, what is this world coming to?

I tried explaining that a 'Caucasian' was, as everyone knows, Kahlua, Vodka, and cream. 
No dice.

I had forced Vu to make me Henry Dargers all evening, and consequently was not in prime condition myself.
Double shot Bourbon. Dash Grenadine, drops Angostura, over ice. Finish with ginger ale and a cherry.
Strong enough for a pervert, mild enough for a little lady.

When I explained the backstory behind the drink, Dildo Bob didn't get it at all. Threatened to write a fifteen thousand page novel about his own life. Oh lord.

There's a reason he's called "Dildo Bob".

He's a big pain in the sphincter.

Avoid Karaoke bars.


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YOU SAY YOU WANT SOMETHING SOOTY?

By now you should know that I am not involved in a relationship, and therefore spend my weekends happily twiddling my thumbs in solitude. They're very good thumbs. Two of them.
Most Saturdays and Sundays I soak a bit in the bath, head into C'town for a bite to eat, then end up at the office for several hours.
And, of course, I smoke my pipes.


FAVOURITE BRIARS

There's something addictively sensuous about a fine piece of wood, made more wonderful by memories and attached meanings; which blend you last smoked therein, where and when, and with whom.

Several pipes in my collection have rarely been used in many years - they are associated with places and people that cannot be regained, and there is a note of fond sadness to them.
Others are temporarily back-shelved, for strong yet unclear reasons.
Comoys, Dunhills, Petersons, & other famous makes.
Some pipes I'm just not sure about.
Emotions come into play.
Can't explain it.

One of my favourites, however, is an extremely unimpressive piece. A plain bent briar of unexalted make, mellowed and polished from much handling. The top is blackened, unlike most of my other pipes. Neurotically, I want to see just how tarred-up I can get the rim.
Because of the cut, one side is paler than the other.
The smell of affection adheres to the bowl.

It's not a superior grade of wood, and looks quite common.
And yet it is special, I feel happy smoking it.
The badger and his trusty pipe.

I stroke it fondly, and it speaks to me.
It evokes, and also comforts.
A remarkable friend.


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TO READ IN EXILE

It is quiet in the Financial District on weekends, really the perfect place for privacy. Although sometimes privacy is overrated.  There are times I would rather be by myself, and times when I would prefer company. If the company were good company, it would be exceedingly pleasant to have far less time to myself.
But one does not get to choose.

Few people are content to let a person deep in a book alone.

They will nose over inquisitively, and start off with “what’s that you’re reading?” Then, without reflecting on the answer, they proceed to tell you about a volume they looked at once, a long time ago. It was very great literature.  Surely everyone who reads has heard of it. They recommend it sincerely.
Reference, dictionaries, history, and college texts just don’t cut it.
What was it called again? The Da Vinci Graph?
Anyway, it was super meaningful.
Totally OMG awesome.
You must agree!


As an illustration of horrible recommendations, let me direct you to a wonderful link:


THE TOP SIX CRAPPY BOOKS

http://www.amazon.com/Top-6-Crappy-Books/lm/3QCNEZ0VDLDNF

1. The book of Mormon.
2. Harry Potter.
3. My Brother Sam is Dead.
4. Bridge to Terabithia.
5. Dancing on the Edge.
6. Animorphs Box Set (Books 1 - 4).

Possibly you object to that list. Especially when you note that 'The Da Vinci Code' isn't mentioned, neither is 'Memoirs of a Geisha'. Both are certifiable codswallop. People who enjoyed either masterpiece may be beyond salvation, and must be utterly avoided.

Pedestrian prose, mono-dimensional characters, and limp plots, which not even the over-the-top descriptive language, romantic settings, and great events opportunistically co-opted by the shitty author, could redeem from the literary compost heap. Characters that so perfectly express the inner being of the person who invented them that they just will not die, and can not be killed.
Endings that leave you both drained and nauseated.
Horrible turgid balderdash.

Somewhere, somewhen, somebody is going to demand that you read something awful.
When you are demonstrably engaged in reading something better.

Reading is a dangerous gamble around other people. Especially if they won't be still.
I wouldn't mind someone who also reads, and has no cell-phone.
A person like that quite probably does not exist.

The office is a nice quiet place to read on a weekend, but evenso, it must sound loopy as all git-out when I ask myself out loud: "would you like another cup of tea?" And respond to the query by saying "why yes, I would, thank you, so very kind!"  How courteous!
Lots of hot cups. Go downstairs for the occasional smoke outside the building.
Then more tea, and several more chapters. The bright of day fades.
A last pipe-full in the semi-anonymity of the Occidental.
It could have been a more sociable day, yes.

Afterwards, home.


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YOUR ETERNAL MENTAL HEALTH

Sporadic checking of my blog stats shows that I have perverted tobacco mavens among my readers, as well as serious foodies.
Possibly the two sides are in eternal conflict with each other, much like the Pandawa brothers against their cousins the Kurawa.
Decide for yourself which side represents truth, justice, and the American way, and which side you will join.
Jesus is immaterial. It’s not about Jesus.
The Pandawa, the Kurawa.
Light and dark.
Mouths.


Most visitors this week:
PORTRAIT OF A NAKED SCHOOLGIRL ON A BED OF TOBACCO
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2010/07/portrait-of-naked-schoolgirl-on-bed-of.html.

Yummy. The tobacco, that is. The girl is not materially described, but the necessary composition of the blend is elucidated.
Boys, you have good taste.


Runner-up:
HONG KONG ROAST GOOSE IN SHAM TSENG
http://atthebackofthehill.blogspot.com/2011/10/hong-kong-roast-goose-in-sham-tseng.html.

Also yummy. Much better for your mental equilibrium than the previous concept.


Remember, Pandawa versus Kurawa, light versus dark.
Or both, if you are a pipe-smoker.
We're a complex bunch.
I am both.
All.


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MOUNTING EXCITEMENT

It’s a bright warm day and you don’t have to do anything. So you wake up late, in a comfortable bed, and stretch with languour.
Oddly, a bunny rabbit with lovely soft fur is right in there with you.

Suddenly you are surrounded platters of yummy roast duck, steamed fish, crispy greens, and a large bowl of pudding!
Wonderful goodies!
So delicious!

And a BIG carrot for the bunny rabbit!

Later, you relax contentedly.
The bunny rabbit sleeps.

Have some chocolate.


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ROTTEN CHEESE

After receiving a particularly odious screed recently, it is necessary to once again post a handy link to all my articles about the negative side of the Dutch.

Click here:
ROTTE KAAS

In that string of posts you will find everything about Geert Wilders, Dutch racism against Moroccans, Turks, and Jews, the rabid anti-Americanism which is rampant among the ever-so-superior natives of a small unimportant country with a spotted historical record of its own, as well as some in-depth stuff about harridans such as Anja Meulenbeult and the loathsome widow Duisenberg.

To the person who sent me the offensive letter: You must realize that I've not even touched half of the material. Five centuries of the Dutch being brutal imperialists and international busibodies leaves an awful lot of evidence. 


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GREEN ROBE ISLAND

One of the areas of Hong Kong which combines a beautiful name with an utterly commonplace appearance is Tsing Yi Tao (青衣島), east of Kowloon. Green Robe Island - does that appellation not suggest verdant hills flowing down to the water's edge, a veritable paradise of nature and solitude?

The name actually refers to a type of fish (green wrasse in English). They can be stir-fried with Chinese mustard greens or bitter gourd. Not particularly good eating, but not at all bad in saucy dishes.

The original name of the island was 'Spring Flower Rain' (春花落).

Generations ago the islanders made their living by farming and fishing, today the island is an important industrial hub and satellite community for Hong Kong.
Other than having been briefly a mecca for local nudists, the most exciting aspect of the island consists of the Tsing Yi Bridge (青衣大橋) and several modern container terminals.
I won't claim that the bridge is a marvel of modern engineering, but it is rather elegant.
A container port is never elegant.

The urban areas of Tsing Yi are by no means lovely. Very modern highrise apartment buildings and housing estates, with centralized shopping areas catering to the surrounding developments. Given the large number of people who live here, it isn't surprising that within the commercial complexes you can find some good eats.
They're easy to get to, as the buses from Kowloon go down the major streets, and the MTR also serves the island.
Air-conditioning is a way of life.


THREE RECOMMENDATIONS


稻香超級漁港 DOU HEUNG CHIU KAP YU GONG
稻香 (Tao Heung Dimsum & Seafood)
Maritime Square, 33 Tsing King Road.
Ground floor, unit G04.
[青衣, 青敬路 33號, 青衣城, 地下 G04 舖]

North-east corner of Tsing Yi Island.
Remarkably good dim sum. They use top notch shrimp for the har gau (蝦餃) and shrimp spring rolls (蝦春卷), and their beef meat balls (牛肉丸) are nice and juicy. Their various rolled sheet noodles (腸粉) are absolutely gorgeous.
If your eating habits include unhealthy stuff, above all try the char siu stuffed pineapple buns (菠蘿叉燒包). As you should know, pineapple buns (菠蘿包) contain no fruit - the name refers to the cracked appearance of the outer surface - and are considered one of the most dangerous snackfoods in Hong Kong, due to high calorie count and high fat content. Adding charsiu (叉燒) as a filling ups the ante considerably, besides making them addictive.
Soup dumplings (湯餃) in sharkfin and abalone broth are a must-try.
Also order the fabulous squab (紅燒乳鴿).

The prices are comparable to fancier dimsummeries in San Francisco, unfortunately the quality is far, far better.


長發大酒樓 CHEUNG FAT TAAI JAU LOU
(Cheung Fat Restaurant)
Cheung Fat Shopping Centre, Cheung Fat Estate,
Fifth floor, unit 501.
[青衣, 長發邨, 長發商場 5樓, 501 號舖]

North shore, near the water.
Nothing really stands out here, but it's a variety of good food at reasonable prices.
Decent dim sum early in the day, dining later.


一粥麵 YAT JUK MIN
(Super Super Congee & Noodles)
Cheung Fat Shopping Centre, Cheung Fat Estate,
Ground floor, unit 319.
[青衣, 長發邨, 長發商場 319 號舖]

North shore, near the water.
Hong Kong style convenience food. Rice porridge, noodle dishes, and sheet noodle.
You might like the 'salty lean-pork pig-blood cubes rice porridge' (鹹瘦肉豬紅粥 haahm sau yiuk chu hong juk). One common problem with many versions of congee that use lean pork is that the meat is cooked till less than appetizing - it's a textural thing. That at times is also a problem here.
But you cannot find pig's blood so easily in San Francisco, and by and large this chain does a decent job.
Have it with a cup of milk-tea (奶茶 nai cha) for a totally HK experience.


There are hundreds of other restaurants located in the shopping centres of the various housing estates, everything from HK style street food, snacks, bakeries, to Sushi, Thai, American fast-food, and high-end dining. The scope for experimentation and casual noshing is quite impressive, all conveniently close together.
Did I mention air-conditioning already?
Air-con, air-con, air-con.


If you're in HK on business, you should also know that there are various good hotels on Tsing Yi Island, many in the area of Tsing Yi Road south of the bridge. Most are mere minutes from the Tsing Yi MTR station.
Tsim Sha Tsui is within easy transport reach, HK Central district is less than half an hour away by train, the airport approximately fifty minutes.
So it's as good a place to base yourself while there as any.

Of course, there's always Mongkok, if you want something a bit more 'earthy'.




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CATERING TO PERVERTS

For some reason the name Henry Darger came up more than once recently in conversation. Henry Darger, as the attentive reader remembers, was the obsessive genius to whom e-kvetcher once compared me.

Literature mavens everywhere were dismayed, depressed even, when that stellar composer in the field of prose passed from the scene.
We need to name a literary prize after him.

Anyway, while providing background detail on the aforementioned wordsmith, reference was made to a cocktail that I had invented:


THE HENRY DARGER

2 oz Bourbon.
Heavy dash Grenadine.
Three drops Angostura.
Over ice in a highball glass, top with ginger ale.
Add a cherry, a bendy straw, and an umbrella.

Suitable for coming out events, funerals, baby showers, and Quinceañeras, as well as both bar and bat mitzvoth.
Especially if you have Hello Kitty highball glasses.

Note: Can also be made with Scotch. I suggest Dalmore.


I make mention of this, because apparently some complete degenerate out there is marketing pipe tobacco that is flavoured with Grenadine.
How horrible, and how European!
I cannot imagine anything more depraved.
This must be stopped.


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A VERY BON APPÉTIT

As you know by now, I spend some time around mid-day at a location near the office smoking my pipe, often in the company of several cigar smokers. They are there because they aren’t pipe smokers.
Yes, I know. Somewhat perverted. Pipes are so much more refined yet masculine.
I was there again today. Beautiful weather, sunshine, gentle breeze.
No cigar smokers.

This post is NOT about smokers.
Or tobacco.


About ten feet away from where I stood were two charming young women having lunch. They weren’t bothered by my smoke – it dissipated fast enough – but were vivaciously talking to each other while eating.
I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but it didn’t really matter. Out of the corner of my eye I could see every time one of them lifted her sandwich to her mouth, took a big bite, then crinkled her face in a smile of pleasure, trying to respond to her companion.
Food, cheerful conversation, good company – why, there’s so much to enjoy!
Obviously I thought so too.
Sunny day, bowl of nice tobacco, and a young woman within clear view whose face radiates such happiness while eating.
I know her cheeks bulge when she smiles and burbles with a mouth full of food. And she has eyes that are lively and intelligent.
And you, dear reader, know that I enjoy the sight of a woman relishing a meal.
There’s a lovely innocence to girlish dining pleasure.
It’s a feast for the eyes.

My own lunch later wasn’t nearly as exciting.

But I had had a very nice smoke beforehand.

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OUR LOVELY BOUQUET!

It rained today, which is unusual for this time of year. Rain in San Francisco diminishes people's consideration for each other, as they are desperate to not get moisture on their expensive hairdos, and will gladly rip out someone's eyes by accident with the vicious spokes on their umbrellas if that proves necessary unavoidable.
Up yours, buster, immigrant from the Midwest coming through!

Rain also brings out smells and makes them stronger. Earth, dirt, greasy asphalt. Expensive wet hairdos and soaked designer jeans.....  
Gee, that's an ENORMOUS amount of denim - are there a lot of were-elephants in Detroit?
The odious funk of wet Midwesterner on the bus.
Gasoline, tree moss, fresh green leaves.
As well as the delicious 'perfume' of that foxy looking smoker - a delicate undertone of aged pressed Virginia pipe tobacco, with an intoxicating top note of fine cigarillo - whose personal fragrance spectrum is infinitely appealing, sexy even!
Mmmmmmmm-a-liscious!


It must be because of the rain that the office kitchen stinks today.

A robust, fecund, earthy, miasma of death, disease, and tropical fruit.

We can't identify what it is. But this is the first time I've ever seen someone (the CFO) spray Febreze on a garbage can. Suffice to say that it did not work. But it did add considerably to the smell, and most of us are now scared to go near.
The building super has been called.
Naught will be done till eventide.
For sanity's sake, don't breathe.

Personally, I don't mind the smell. It's rather like durian.
But sweeter, which must be the effect of the Febreze. The entire cocktail of reeks is a mere nose-echo from where I sit, never absent but not at prime puky peak of funk.
It's bearable. Mysterious, and evocative.

"You know what that's called in Louisiana?"

"A boo-fay!!!"

That jibe was uttered by the Senior Veep of Marketing in the direction of the CFO, who hails from the gulf coast. The CFO took it in good grace, despite sitting closer to the source of general nausea than anyone else. Earlier, he himself had eloquently and at great length accused me of deliberately not finishing my dead rat sandwich yesterday, once he heard me saying that whatever it was in the waste bucket wasn't there on Sunday.
How could I, had I no heart for other people?
Dang, Atboth, you're a mean sumbitch!
No wonder I did collections!

By the time the Senior Veep made his crack about 'boo-fay', it smelled more like deceased skunk than dead rat.  That is much more a Louisiana thing, I think.

Still, we don't know if the smelly item is, or was, food. If it was food, someone in the company has started eating zombies. Which is probably the latest diet-craze.
Betcha they'll lose weight.

We all will at this rate.


FINAL NOTE

This blogger's beguiling personal aroma at present is more Latakia than cigarillo.
Reason being that I had a bowlful of something dark before lunch.
It was yummy. I smell good.

That thing in the kitchen is growling.

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IT'S NOT ABOUT THE TEA AND COOKIES!

Lunch by myself again today.
The coffee was pretty darn awful, and I probably should not have arrived when the staff wanted to eat. Requesting a bowl of this and a piece of that just when the woman behind the counter was spearing a nice juicy morsel for herself seemed interfering. Don't get between a woman and her food!

Later after everyone had finished eating, the mood was much much brighter. If you want a woman to be happy, fill her up. Doing so works for men too.
In consequence of her return to happiness, the counter woman didn't snarl at the two big pink people who come in and squawked unintelligibly.

"Dyuhsillbiyah?!?"

Pause for fifteen seconds.

"Biyah, dyav biyahiyah?"

Total blankness. After a few more seconds of non-communication, the couple left to find their suds elsewhere. Briefly I thought of informing them that walking around with an open container of alcohol would get them in trouble with the police, and would make a frightful impression on the locals. But by that time they were outside, and the counter woman cheerfully asked me: 「佢話乜嘢?」

Their accents had been so thick that even native speakers would have been hard-pressed to decipher their animal-like yelping.


佢問: 「你賣啤酒呀?」。你知啊，

有啲澳洲人，成日都想飲啤酒... 。

[He asked: "do you sell beer?" ......  You know, there are some Australians, all day long they just wanna chug ...... ]


Explaining that at the time would have been fairly useless, as there was not a drop of beer on the premises.
Soft drinks, yes. But Australians don't take softdrinks, not after breakfast.

Despite the mild entertainment presented by travelling foreign alcoholics in Chinatown, lunch was not engaging. Random hubbub is comforting, yes, and there are times when I enjoy observing people, and listening in on conversations that don't involve me. But it's far too impersonal, and it lacks the zest of a one on one exchange of feelings and opinions.
Plus it involves lousy coffee. That's always a downer.


WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO?

I would have preferred to stay at home, occasionally going into the kitchen for a snackipoo.
But without some other person to do it with, that would have been empty.
If there's no one else, what's the point of tea and cookies?
Tea and cookies are just the preamble.

Bright sunny day, windows open, quiet apartment.
Smooth wooden surfaces, the sound of water.
Rising steam, and a warm sudsy bath.

I need a spark of excitement.

The Australians probably did eventually find beer, which works for them.
Lager doesn't do anything at all for me.
Tea and cookies.


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THE MIND THAT WANDERS UPON WAKING

Last night I could see the fog blowing in from my office windows. When I went outside to smoke, the horns out on the Bay could even be heard in the financial district. The street was mostly empty, though occasionally a vehicle would sail by on its way back to the bridge.
Whisps and trails of moisture softened the upper edges of the highrise buildings.
The office is empty on weekends; yesterday I was the only one there.
High up, I looked out over vanishing downtown canyons.
By the time I left the sky was darkest purple.

Everything could be much more enjoyable with a nice other person around. Eating, smoking, reading, even just puttering about.  A warm hand, a kind eye, and each finding comfort in the other’s presence.
Like salt, like sugar, like spices; warmth, whispers, fragrance and fresh air.
I shall imagine a woman who quietly curls up with a crisp juicy apple and a book, and just enjoys my company. After devouring several chapters she puts the volume down and drifts off, dreaming of hedgehogs and weasels in a forest.  The sporadic sound of clacking from my keyboard as I research things on the web makes a metronome for her sleeping thoughts.

Later, we walk homewards together through the dark grey city. At the top of Nob Hill waterdroplets pearl on her bangs, and glint in light from the glowing orbs.
Streetlamps and the ghostly breeze-touch are both made velvet by the moisture.
In front of her apartment she thanks me for the lovely apples.
The door clicks closed. She is home.

I wander back to my place, still strangely warm.


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SMOOTH STUFFING

After jaunting around in North Beach, the bookseller and I were walking home on Pacific Street the other night, when we paused to have a final cigar at Hyde. While we were chatting a group of Central American gentlemen were wishing each other buenas noches on the opposite corner.
A tall pale woman with a short skirt and high heels walked past, up Hyde Street en-route to her apartment.

Imagine several sets of beady eyes following those legs uphill, in admiring silence.
After the fog finally shrouded her from view, conversations started up again.
Men are built that way. We have a fondness for beauty. It’s how it is.
Which is why most men would rather watch the animal channel.
A pity that programming directors don’t understand this.


SMALL PLEASURES

In an ideal world, many men would stay at home all day, enjoying animal shows on the tube, listening to the gentle voice of a naturalist explaining that the mama bear’s protective instinct will cause her to rip apart the national park visitor who got too close to her cub. Completely without any bias or bestial bloodlust, she will efficiently and with despatch eviscerate a family of middle-class hikers from Arizona who made the mistake of feeding spam to her precious furball, then forcibly dunk him under in the frigid mountain stream several times to wash the human funk off his pelt. Stupid cub! Stay away from those horrid creatures, you don’t know where they’ve been! They smell of high-fat diets and soft drinks!
The natural world is a beautiful thing.

I never watch television anymore. It’s more enjoyable to sit on my bed reading, with the stuffed animals arranged along the wall. Occasionally one of them will try poking me with a sharp stick – especially if I’m in my pajamas – or ever so surreptitiously move closer and closer to my wallet, hoping to make off with the plasticky visa thing that enables internet sales. The monkey is determined to buy a banana plantation and have it delivered, the headsheep wants a throne.
Gunther the Raccoon just knows that fried German things are available.
Mostly they stare off into space, waiting for me to leave.

They are complete wild things. There is evidence that when I’m out of the house, they frequently bash each other, pose in front of the mirror, try to steal my bowl of laundry money, and look for the bottle of Islay single malt (which I’ve hidden).
I don’t know how any of them would deal with nature, they are such city creatures.
Everything they desire is within reach, with a credit card. My credit card!
They lament my lack of generosity in not yielding it upon demand.
If that mama bear were around, she would SO cut me!
Maybe they can co-opt her with salmon?

The natural world is a beautiful thing.

Can’t read at home anymore. It’s too quiet.
They’re plotting something.

I'm safe at the office.


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NATIONAL DOUGHNUT DAY

Having just found out that today is National Doughnut Day, I am anxious that it should be celebrated in fit style.

Which, like all holidays, is by getting riotously drunk and wearing silly hats.
Not that I have any intention of doing so myself.
I want young people to do it.
They do it so well.

Go at it!

I am somewhat upset that we don't get a day off for this venerable celebration which has been around since 1938, especially as it is much more meaningful than most holidays. Donuts were once our national food, before the invention of pizza.

And donuts, as I'm sure you are well aware, are one of two great Dutch-American contributions to our culture. The other one being scalping. We Nieuw Amsterdammers taught the natives how to scalp. My ancestors did. In between eating donuts.
I feel so proud.
The world has not been the same since.
Sudden hairloss and growing obesity.
That's some pretty profound stuff.
We're clearly a force for good.

Today is for celebrating Dutch-American achievement.


甜圈節 TIM KUEN JIT

Even more amazing than the discovery that today is National Doughnut Day was seeing that Wikipedia also describes it in Chinese.

Quote:
甜甜圈日（英語：National Doughnut Day）是救世軍為了表揚在第一次世界大戰中提供甜甜圈給士兵的婦女們而設立的，訂於每年6月的第一個星期五；這一天許多美國的甜甜圈店會提供數量不等的免費甜甜圈給顧客。
End quote.

Source: 甜甜圈日

From this we learn that a doughnut is a "sweet-sweet circle" (甜甜圈), and that the Salvation army (救世軍) engages in the "succor (of) generations" (救世).

I think I'll enjoy it all the more now that I'm aware of this.

Happy holiday, everyone.  Enjoy the party!

You have all weekend to recover.


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