Monday, September 07, 2020


After I had returned from my walk I had a disputation with the stuffed turkey vulture, who dreams of cadavers. The fruit persons are juicy and succulent. That was a fresh ripe peach, but he cannot think of delicious edibles in any other way than as deceased beings. The Irish persons (yummy) are actually vegetables. They must be Irish, they're green!

Often his discourse is more than slightly sickening.
Almost all carrion eaters are like that.
Nature's little ghouls.

During the first walk, the abandoned white armchair was up near the end of the block. Second walk, it had moved a third of the way down the block. Third walk, it's opposite the front door. Someone moved and left furniture, other people examined it and understood why it had been discarded.
I shall trust their sound judgement, and not go investigate.
Jimmy Hoffa is probably buried in the crevices.

Smoking half bowls now. It's too warm to stay out there long. Ninety three Fahrenheit in the shade. It is, at present, significantly cooler in Hyderabad, Calcutta, and Jakarta.

Of course it is also the middle of the night there now.

The easy chair at which I computerize is an old discoloured rattan chair.
A bit hard on the buns, but it breathes. Good for this kind of weather.
Every year at the end of summer the fires get worse, the hot spell more intense. Most of the time in San Francisco we're entirely immune to that, because of our natural airconditioning (fog), but for a few weeks we can feel the pain of all the suburban soccer moms.

My piles bleed for them.

In the hill stations of Java it is twenty to thirty degrees cooler right now. During the day it will be a maximum of ten or fifteen degrees (F) hotter, cooling down rapidly after sunset.

Puncak, situated between Bogor and Bandung, is a lovely place.
Gardens, rice paddies, a few hot springs, clean air.
There used to be a sanitarium there.

Many tea plantations.
Sundanese food.


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