FAR AWAY FROM REYKJAVIK!

While smoking a pipe in Chinatown a few hours ago it was impressed upon me that many more people are insecurely moored in reality, most of them white. I ascribe this to both the pandemic and the wide availability of pot in the great state of California. The first cause mentioned knocked many people out of their tried and true world of predictability.
The second shifted their focus, specifically this evening.


There were three nuts in Spofford Alley. Caucasians.
This did not impact the mahjong players.
But disturbed the rats.

It just seems that more of my fellow white folk are bats than there used to be. And that's beside the great number of folks in the red states who haven't been sane since the Bush Presidency. You know, the ones who were convinced that a socialist Kenyan Muslim was going to take away their guns.

For many of those people, any sense of reality is just a pipe dream.
What, you thought Mike Lindell and Kari Lake were sane?
If so, you must be smoking something.

What I had in my briar was Cornell & Diehl's Anthology, the 2022 release. It was totally divine, and made putting up with crazy passers-by quite do-able. Even the man who loudly screamed some unintelligible stuff every few feet or so as he walked down the centre of the street. His cries faded into the distance, and rather than quiet returning, a babbling idiot appeared. As well as half a dozen loud white tourists.

There were other ambulatatory oddities.


The bookseller enjoyed his vacation. One of his hosts, a mutual friend, suffered a bad bout of food poisoning while he was there, and he got rained on several times, but it was even so very relaxing, and he's glad the weather here has shifted into early spring mode. As well as, though he didn't say so, that he missed Saint Patrick's Day entirely. I know his thoughts on that score very well.

The beer place was too crowded. The karaoke joint was bearable.
There was a cold breeze on the way to the bus stop.
No drunks or loonies waiting there.
A pleasant change.



One thing we discussed was Icelandic Bee Honey.
It's crikey cold in Reykjavik.
Strewth.




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