EXAGGERANT

There is too much to do. But after tomorrow I wil have a four day weekend before going back to the salt mines, so it should be smooth sailing if and when I get off my duff today. In the meantime I'm enjoying the silence. My apartment mate has gone off to work, so I do not hear the creatures in her room squabbling or arguing about fatty inner thighs, so hungry, so very hungry, who is a nice juicy meatball, and "big guy is not as stupid as he looks". Which naturally gets the small she sheep objecting, because she thinks I'm quite intelligent.

An amazing coincidence. I think so too.

Big guy is smoking an old Charatan in the teevee room while wondering if he should look inside the Romeo y Julieta box and see which briars he put in there when he changed the rotation a while back. I have too many pipes, but only slightly over three dozen are in the rotation at any time. So there are boxes with others in various bookcases. It's a welter.


The tropical jungle with howler monkeys starts only a few hundred yards from here. On the other side of the ramshackle service bungalow the muddy river flows, vibrating in the hot moist air, sluggishly toward the gulf and the Java sea, where Admiral Doorman (of blessed memory) still roams the waters fighting Admiral Takagi's forces in perpetual conflict, not knowing that the latter died in battle in 1944.


Okay, so it's warmed up a bit (mid seventies). Which naturally makes the big guy think of malaria, typhoid, skin fungus, do I perhaps need to change out some pipes for others which speak to me, and the plantation economy. Blame the second cup of coffee for all of that.

It is far better to think of gibbons, and small spotted forest cats hunting in the high canopy, than fentanyl addicts several blocks away bent over in that zombie crouch as if kissing their back-ends goodbye. The DMZ starts only a few blocks south of here, then shades into the Tenderloin just below Post Street. Ocassionally one of them wanders north before the drug takes hold, and I'll see them when while waiting for the bus to Marin. Which is mostly cocaine territory. Both Marin and the stumbling druggies make me think of the speed freaks in North Beach years ago. Before the programmers started living in the residential hotels there and lamenting the sad absence of chai and samosas in the ruins of the beatnik paradise.

It's only a matter of time before Jimbo flames out. Which will be spectacular. I fully expect him to be shooting adenochrome by then, or experimenting with psychedelics. With a bit of luck I will not be a direct witness to the flaming descent, but will hear about it via via.


The older I get, the more I appreciate people who maintain their sanity.



==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================