Wednesday, July 29, 2020


The fog started rolling in by six o'clock, and the top of Nob Hill was grey and invisible within an hour. Lafayette Heights in the other direction looked bleak and wild, while from Polk Street the sounds of jollification were audible. There were drinks and eaties out in front of several places.
The cocktail hour lasts till eight.

Clay, Jackson, and Washington Streets were almost deserted.
It was, in fact, perfect Autumn weather.
At the end of July.

Here's a bright idea: San Francisco should celebrate Hallowe'en a few months early. After all, we're all wearing masks (I hope), and this weather prevents unseemly nudity, unlike the situation at the end of October, when the exhibitionists come out of the woodwork.
Little children will love it.

Sadly, SF exhibitionists fear tobacco smoke.

Unlike the indoors people in July.

You know, I bet there's tonnes of exhibitionism inside these days. One of the neighbors on the opposite side of the street was visible, in the buff from the waist up. I do not know if he was wearing anything downwards, that could not be seen.

Keep your popcorn warm and crisp, ladies, there might be a show.

I didn't stick around to find out.

This morning it was quieter, but still as foggy. Also perfect Autumnal weather. Slightly more people than dogs out. Same amount of poo.

White people sleep late nowadays. Cantonese folks are up much earlier, and full of piss and vinegar by the time of the first pipe of the day.

Both pipes shown were given to me by Martin T.  when he 
was paring down his collection. They're good smokes, 
but he prefers much larger pipes nowadays.

During Hallowe'en in San Francisco, most of the extroverts (exhibitionists) are Caucasians, and I always enjoyed observing the little Cantonese kiddies trick or treating, who looked terrified. "Good lord, these people are freaks!
I wanna go home!

It's been ages since I saw anyone en-déshabillé.

Or anyone saw me in that state.

World, be grateful.

My ex is Canto, locally born. What she saw in me was, apparently, red hot Dutch American sex appeal, which I had no idea was a thing. And seeing as I've been single for years now, I may be correct in that assumption.
While she may have been mistaken.

[We don't speak the same version of Cantonese, in case you were wondering, but have always spoken English together. Hers is Toisanese, mine is movie-learned Hong Kong thug, with book-learned bits. English is her first language.]

Certainly a scrawny fellow who prefers indulging in curry, milk-tea, and smoking a pipe, is not a hot property on the dating scene. I wish I knew what the dating scene actually was, seeing as even when I was in my twenties I didn't have a clue. I've heard it involves jogging regularly, getting drunk at singles bars, and late night pizza.

If anyone now imagines a lovely curry dinner and a hot cup of tea with a naked pipe smoker, please be advised that I will not accept any responsibility for that.

If you pursue that dream, accidents could happen!

Heck, it's almost guaranteed.


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