Return of the Muddied Men

You'd think one could get away from all of that, wouldn't you? Jimi H. plays on the stereo of the Polish cafe, and all is well with the world, thus getting me over having spent a morning wrestling with bureaucracies, people saying 'computer says 'nah' and suchlike. And why a $20 dollar ticket actually costs $250. Taxes.
But enough of the mundane and sublunar. It stopped raining (briefly), I found an old sweater, London looms (see...) and the edit plan for the Herzog film has become clearer to me. Though I am taking a risk expecting three other people to do their own Rashomoning on it.
What else? Life is Good, despite all evidence to the contrary. Coffee helps, and the slightly overweight prostitutes on the cover pages of restricted satellite TV channels are actually captivating in their humanity. I mean, you can imagine having a cup of tea and a laugh with them. I must be getting old.
I'd also like to note that despite possible appearance to the contrary, the above photo is wholly heterosexual (or not at all sexual) in character. There, feel re-assured.