PURSUING FLIGHTY DREAMS

A thought crossed my mind that perhaps I should check to see if some of the people who gravitate to my workplace are on Facebook, and if so, what else is going on in their minds. As soon as it came, I chased it out. I would rather not know. There has been quite enough exposure already. I do not need to know what goes on in the heads of Little White Nipple Dude, the Self-admitted Space Alien, R the Subcontinetal, or Starship Captain.
At least not more than I already do.

It's like watching flies buzzing around the garbage can.
There is tonnes of yummy stuff there.
For the flies.

Little White Nipple Dude exposed me to another neurotic facet recently which in its own way makes perfect sense. Twelve cigars. A perfect number. If you smoke one you have to replace it before you forget, or there will be less perfection in your life. An emptiness, a void, a flaw.

After thoughtlessly revealing that, he lectured me on his habits regarding smoking his meerschaum pipe, which involve aromatic tobaccos late in the evening.

This may be fascinating stuff.

There are times when he has spoken of Gandalf and Sherlock Holmes. In regards to pipe smoking. Those came up again several times this past weekend.

If I were to identify with a fictional pipe smoker, it might be Captain Haddock.
Or maybe not. Maigret is another possibility.

Having a fictional avatar is not an important part of my pipe smoking persona.
And I've already got enough neurotic facets in any case.
No need to widen the rabbit holes.



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