WRINKLES IN THE FABRIC OF EXISTENCE

As I was lighting up my pipe after getting off the pipe in Chinatown a little girl stared at me aghast. I'm not sure why. Was it my whiteness, coupled with frightening smoke and flames? Or was it something else? The smell, perhaps, redolent of the pit and eternal torment. In her mind's eye it may have been. Probably none of her relatives smoke, at least not where she can see them. 'Don't go outside, Ah Mei, grandpa ("gong gong") is doing something nasty out there'. And grandpa ("gong gong") enjoys the blessed peace. Because little girls doing their homework in the evening ask impossible questions.

"Who was Harriet Beecher Stowe, and why have Florida and Texas banned her book from the school libraries?" "Which famous liberal president was killed because no one tried to stop a criminal republican plot that enabled a primed nutcase fall guy with a rifle to get up to the sixth floor and calmly take aim?" "Which wife abusing, roadkill snarfing, dead raccoon penis harvesting, addle-brained sewage swimming raspy-voiced drug addict conspiracy theorist crackpot has done more for the come-back of measles than almost anybody else?"

These are all valid questions. He appreciates the tyke learning things.
He had always heard American education was pretty bad.
But perhaps California is exceptional.

You know she'll grow up to be a doctor, right? At seven years old she can already read and write better than most current college students. In two languages. Gong gong is chuffed.

As well he should be. But her seeming disapproval of me lighting my pipe does not sit well. People are so darn judgemental nowadays! Can't we all just get along?
I'm not surprised that gong gong likes being outside.
And by the way, I am not a demon.

Kid probably never saw a Dutch American before. Obviously there aren't enough of us. Things would be so much better in this country if we outnumbered the Anglos.
Everyone knows that.

Alleyways are good places for pipesmokers, as there are fewer people about. Who might say positive things, like "classic pipe, man", or "you rock". Children, however, are not often so complimentary.


Anyway, the Doppler ultrasound scan (多普勒超聲波檢查 'do pou laak chiu sing po gim chaa') of the right pedal extremity (右腳 'yau keuk') which was scheduled today got postponed for a bit because the tasked person was out sick. The clinic wishes to see if the angioplasty last year is holding up. So early afternoon, when I answered the phone in Cantonese as I alway due because of spam calls and scammy Indian call centres, there was an actual Cantonese speaker at the other end of the line. Which is a rare occurence. That gave me additional time to go enjoy an artery-clogging meal. Which with gusto I did.

Later the bookseller and I went to all the usual places, not running into Tat Yee until we were ready to head toward the bus stop. This truly has been an excellent day. Smoke and grease, babies, smoke and grease.



We avoided the karaoke joint. Misguided souls inside were singing "all I want for Christmas is you" when we passed by. It took a few moments to recognize the song, they sung that badly. It is still far too early for that. At least wait until Thanksgiving!
And even then it will be too early.



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