Wednesday, August 17, 2022


The big question is do I want a relationship? And, if so, how? I'm a bit too old to be a catch, or have overmuch energy and the stupidity required, and I'm somewhat stubborn, eccentric, and fairly satisfied with my routines. After my morning walk on days off I like to read the news over a second cup of coffee, have another pipe, read and research on the internet (I love Wikipedia and the various dictionary sites), hit 'like' on cute kitten pictures or videos, and head out to Chinatown for a late lunch. Wednesdays it's usually dragon tongue fish over rice (蒜蓉焗龍脷飯 'suen yung lung lei yu faan'), Sriracha, and a cup of milk tea (港式奶茶 'gong sik naai chaa'). Thursday is dealers choice, followed by a pastry and a cup of milk tea at a familiar bakery where they are rather pleased to see me (朋友,你好,你坐你坐 'pang yau, nei hou, nei cho nei cho'). Hey man, whazzap, take a seat.

Want ad: sane and somewhat of an emotionally cold fish pipe smoking Dutch American who bathes nearly enough seeks a warm-bodied sensible individual of the suitable gender who is NOT seeing a therapist regularly and does NOT believe herself a strong spiritual being and incredibly gifted and artistic, for occasional experimental hugging during cold weather.
Persons channeling for Bronze Age warrioresses need not apply.
Nor habitual marijuana users, or dipsomaniacs.
Vaccinations are a sine qua non.
No gluten-phobes.

Serious inquiries only. Must read books. No weirdoes.


After lunch today I attended the 'town hall' meeting on Stockton Street about the rash of crimes and violence against Asian Americans here in the city. Given that my regular care physician, the entire team down at the clinic, my cardiologist, my eye doctor, my apartment mate, and my landlady, are all Chinese American, as well as some neighbors of whom I'm rather fond, plus several people I know, you can understand that this wave of xenophobia is hitting very close to home. San Francisco's city administrators are apparently upset about it too, but don't have much of a clue how to deal with it.

The meeting was more political outreach and letting people know that their concerns are being heard than anything really constructive. "More cops, more teamwork, more hotline." "We're paying attention, really we are." I left before it concluded, having heard enough.
And needing a breather.

Not enough of the non-Han attendees wore masks.
Bit of a problem, that. The pandemic ain't over.
It's presently averaging 500 stiffs per day.
Tuesday August 16, 1,037,935 dead.
Sunday July 17, 1,023,799 dead.

I'm okay with so many Caucasian office workers and tourists not wearing masks and gaily clustering in warm happy communicable piles all over the place. Honest. I just wish they weren't literally all over. Perhaps there's a special place for them?

Met the bookseller for drinks in North Beach later in the evening. The crowd at the karaoke place was fairly mellow, and quite well behaved. Even though Frank Sinatra is now probably spinning in his grave (we should harness that energy and solve the energy crisis). It's a pity The Back Street Boys aren't spinning in theirs.


Probably a departmental after work gathering. Team spirit and all that. IT wallahs, perhaps.

It's a cold moist night in San Francisco right now. That may explain all the Caucasians and their cozy communicable clumps. There is haze at the top of the hill, and I hear foghorns.

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