Wednesday, November 09, 2022

MUCH MISSED CHOIR PRACTICE

Election night wasn't as big of a disaster as I suspected; reports of violence from the Republicans were few, and there were no mass shootings at poliing places in texas or Arizona. Plus there were fewer people out and about, so the streets were quiet. The tourist season is over, they've all gone back to Covid country. The cold may have helped.

I was dressed for the season. Thick tee-shirt, flannel over-shirt, two sweaters, and the heavy coat originally acquired for a Canadian vacation. Because puffing the pipe for watching rats in Spofford Alley takes forty minutes, which means exposure to the elements during that time. There is no place in Chinatown where a Dutchman may shelter from the cold while enjoying his pipe. If I were Chinese I'd probably know which mahjong parlour allowed tobacco use, but despite speaking Cantonese after a fashion that is not an option.

My drinking buddy the bookseller is heading to the East Coast for two weeks, so the next jaunt to hear the dulcet tones of people singing Hotel California, Landslide, or Careless Whisper, off-key at a karaoke place won't be till after turkey day.
That's such a joy, I may have to go by myself.
Can't do cold turkey.
No, there's no smoking at the karaoke place. Steaming, probably, and sweaty armpit frowst at the far end where the stupidest waiter in Chinatown often sits -- as well as the occasional Marlboro light huffed on the sidewalk outside -- but a pipe would cause a frown.
I've discovered that smoking my pipe often does that anyway.
Karaoke is happy, and frowns are a downer.
We can't have that!


To be perfectly frank, I hate karaoke, and during the Xmas season it's even worse, for obvious reasons. Plus y'all can't and shouldn't sing. You are bad at it.
You never spent a day in church, and it shows.



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