another goodbye massage

this time by a human, for ten times what i pay the machine.

and what a massage! she hits the pain points unerringly drives me to the edge of tears and pulls me back into a looser more limber state. we cut to the chase when i tell her just neck shoulders and back; you can forget the arms and the legs, and i don't want oil. the bonus is she doesn't make small talk either.

i feel almost ready to return to civilization and to work.

at home - bill bryson (2010)

ramblingly wide-ranging history of modern society as it develops from the medieval to the modern and my one take-home point is that europe (and especially england) of the years up to the present were dark indeed. of especial horror (and most difficult to read) is the chapter on toilet practices. you can practically smell and feel the stuff.

vintage bryson, pretty much.

little commentator

J2 sends us a recording of little A describing the world cup game.

他提ball ; 他跌倒； 他头痛；他坐下来。with entirely unrecognizable prosody almost unrecognizable tonality but (you gotta admit) much sharp observation.

we are torn between grandparent-ly delight and much generational horror.

jb is gentrifying. random spots are ig-worthy and you can see the care with design. call me shallow, but i rather like it. less grit more shine and certainly cleaner. now they just need to diversify away from f&b and retail pharmacies.

preferred poison

HOM goes for his massage.

i wander the mall.

and find my favorite type of massage.

satisfying and without human contact. the way i like it.

breakfast

pretty neat dimsum handiwork

in air conditioned comfort

mostly local clientele

nicee

lounge rat

the air side lounge is where my pretensions to fraternity and equality end and i unabashedly accept with gratitude the place to sit the access to grub the free wifi and the general air of shabby gentility. 

whatever happened to the shiny eyed socialist democrat?