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October 9, 2013
Ronald tells me of his pipe dreams. I tell him I know of his desire to run away with the circle and be the bearded lady and to own his own cheese shop in the Alps, even though he's so agoraphobic he has the drugstore one block away deliver root beer to his doorstep. But he says, no, literal pipe dreams, and describes a corn cob pipe in which he will smoke creamed corn "even though it sounds vaguely cannibalistic” and a classic reddish wood and black plastic 1970s dad pipe packed with sweet cherry tobacco fresh from the humidor.