RIP CBS.

 CBS, home of Walter Cronkite and 60 Minutes and well, a century of journalism and news, is now dead. It got the small-hat treatment. As someone said on Reddit, "truth might leak out over those airwaves". 

I was up early enough to pack a few more things, and get out of here to check a place called "Interstate" for spray paint stencils. They had one they'd made and the customer apparently never picked up, for the super deal of $50+ I said I'd check around. 

I rode the rest of the loop around and came across another place, "AWP" which had a nice stencil for $25 or $30, and somehow that and a can of parking lot white striping paint, the kind of can you hold upside down, came to about $34. Sold. 

I got back here and took the things I had packed to the post office, made a stop at H Mart for hamburger and more sour little bottles of Guinness (it's actually great with plenty if ice, just don't let anyone from Ireland see this). It's hot as hell out there. 

I made another stop at Lowe's for masking tape. 

Once I got back here I started up a cup of Guinness and plenty of ice, about 1/3 of the volume ice, and masked off the lines in the parking lot right in front of here, and between two lines, the cement stopper in front of the door, and two "NO PARKINGs" courtesy of the stencil, the one can of spray paint was done. But that's OK, apparently the paint's cheap and I can get another can next week and it's good enough for now. 

I'd been telling myself I'd go and get stencils and do this for a while now, but that last run in with that Karen was enough. 

I stayed in after painting and tried to think cool thoughts, then left here around 7 I guess. I stopped at Nijiya for coffee pour over things and some cash back so I'd have cash on hand no matter what. And picked up some bubble mailers at the Amazon place. Then I went right over to Whole Foods to busk. 

Petition Guy was there, and I started right in just a few minutes before 8. It went pretty well. I played lots of different songs, and a lot of the tips came with glowing compliments. Petition Guy was getting signatures too. I had plenty of time to talk with him, and he feels we don't interfere with each other at all. I don't think so either. I think it helps both of us for people to see us talking, obviously friends. 

I was done at 9:20 and had made $42. There wasn't time to sit and relax with some food, so I just bought an 8-pack of tall Guinnesss cans, which were at a very good price, and hung out a bit with Petition Guy before leaving for home. 

I pooped along, riding home, enjoying the peacefulness and quiet of the little neighborhoods. It's amazing that there are so many of these little houses that people grew up in, like Ken did, in the same house all along, and whether it's a rich neighborhood in Menlo Park or a not-so-rich neighborhood south of 280 in San Jose here, it's home to someone. 

Our neighborhood of Portlock Road wasn't so snooty, I never thought, as a kid there. Sure it seems about half the people with houses on the beach has a swimming pool too, and one lady had an indoor pool with a little island in it. And there were the Kaisers, as in Henry J. Kaiser and Kaiser Cement, they were up at the end of the road. One of the "Kaiser Kids" had a pale yellow Corvette which I loved to see, as it seemed like such a "cool" color in that generally hot, sunny neighborhood. 

But there was also Mike Noise, who lived with his mother and an incredibly dirty sheep dog, and often this or that man around, but none really identified to us as Mike's father. Mike could draw on his sheets, Peanuts sheets with Snoopy and Charlie Brown and the gang, who with Mikes help with a pen, were all uttering the most filthy and naughty things, which I loved and envied and are why I bugged my mom to buy me sheets like that, although I never had the guts to "improve" them the way Mike had. 

The other Mike was Mike Hertz, as in Hertz Rent-A-Car.  They were not poor and no doodled-on sheets there. In fact Mike Hertz had more toys than I'd seen anywhere. And there was Miss Wilder, the Wilders being one of the old, powerful families in Hawaii. Kind of like the Biddles of New England. She has a Steinway grand piano in her living room and would not teach me how to play it. I'm still miffed about that. But she took me to places like a symphony concert and the newspaper office where she was greeted like royalty and there one of the guys made a little lead "slug" with my name on it. I didn't like my name so I didn't keep it for very many years, but this is the kind of personage Miss Wilder was. 

So Portlock Road was a strange place, with single moms and elderly spinsters who probably never thought about things so vulgar as money and children of single parents who were probably who I learned to properly spell "fuck" from, and kids who'd throw rocks at you, and all kinds of characters I wish I could catch up with now. I guess this is what I think of in the back of my mind when I ride through these quiet little neighborhoods. 

I got back here and saw that the overspray from my insufficient masking off of my painting is a problem, and tried "Goof Off" and a tooth brush on some of it and that seems to work. 

About the busking, I'm having the high notes come out well, and I not only love my unreasonably expensive cornet, but I'm kind of glad it's stuck me with traditional cornet type mouthpieces, since it takes "short shank" ones and the only ones of that type are all deep cup types. The sound is very sensitive to mouth cavity shape, which I don't remember being more than a very slight thing with the 7C/3C type mouthpieces. 

And I'm effectively kept from just going out and buying another student trumpet to busk with because the cornet seems to really go over well with the public, and because if I'm flying to Hawaii in a year and a half, I need to sell off all I can, slim down, not buy more instruments. 

 

Morning after the almost like a day off

 Well, I managed to finish off a six pack of those sour little Guinness bottles, and at something like 3AM I felt like I needed something fatty and protein-y, so I cooked up one of my 4 oz. servings of hamburger I had in the freezer and ate that, drank one last small bottle of Guinness I had here, and went to bed. I slept OK, and woke up a bit after 3 in the afternoon. 

Some Karen type parked her SUV in front of the door here and sat, running the engine so I tried to run her off, and all in all it wasn't a great scene. Fat Karen pointed out that it's not marked "No Parking" and I said just wait, I'll have it marked. It is a very valid point. 

I packed things, took 'em to the post office, found packing stuff, the usual routine, and came in with the bike and trailer laden with stuff. I saw the cops were talking to the people to one side of this place but on the other side. So, being nosy, I wanted an excuse to just happen to pass by and see what's up. 

It didn't cool down today like it did last night, so I decided I'd go to Walmart and that would get me out in the breeze for a while. As I passed by, the cops were gone. Maybe they'd followed someone in from the main road, or there was some car they were looking for, who knows. 

I went to Nijiya just 10 minutes or so before closing, and got a can of cold coffee and a couple of boiled eggs, which were only there because they'd fallen down between that display and the next one (quail eggs), the place was really shopped out. I sat out front, in the heat, and ate my eggs and washed them down with some coffee. 

I went by the Amazon place and found 6 bubble mailers, so that's rather good. And went down to Walmart and first thing, put my heavy jar of pennies through the Coinstar. That got me $6.90. I got the things I was after, and some cheesy made in Canada potato chips which I had with the rest of the cold coffee. 

Then I rode over to Whole Foods but they had some streets closed down so I rode over to Almaden and then over to Whole Foods. Skinny Petition Guy was there, and I talked a bit, then went in and got a pint of Guinness and some "healthy" pork rinds (bleh) and at at the bar upstairs because the upstairs was practically empty. The guy I sat next to seemed to recognize me and asked me to hit him with some rock and roll trivia so I told him "Surfin' USA" was actually written by Chuck Berry and a couple of other snippets. That seemed to please him pretty well. He didn't want any pork rinds though. 

We talked about the Sharks losing again, and on the TV they were calling it a losing streak and I said it can't be called a losing streak until it's 3 games so it's only become one, now. The bartender was hustling around, closing things up, and I guzzled the Guinness and went back downstairs. 

The bike racks were hardly visible, being buried in a huge crowd of intermediate school students, who were now done with their field trip, to see a Sharks game. Skinny Guy and I talked a bit, and he rambled on about being given all these stocks by his family that he sold to buy new movie cameras and stuff, and I talked about how when I was 18 my father told me I had to be out, and I joined the Army and when it was time to go to the airport, both my father and my older sister had told me they'd take me, and when the time came they were not to be found, and I took a cab there, which I only had money for because I'd been working at the local gas station. 

I rode home by my twisty way, along Montgomery to a zig-zag through the quiet neighborhood by Bellermine, through a tiny part of Bellermine, then on Hedding, over the hill the train tracks are underneath, and on home. 

I got back here and found some useful plastic bags in the welding place's trash and put in some metallic bags I never use, and basically did some re-arranging of the parking lot junk, keeping a couple of useful things like a brass ball valve and a broom. 

A bit later I gave myself a haircut and put the wrapped up clippings in the welding place's trash too. It's nice getting a cut for essentially $0 since Ken pays the electric bill around here, whenever I like. 

 

Almost like a day off

 Last night I was preparing to get the place all cleaned and ready for Ken to come over, and he called around 9. He had a cold or something, with aches and pains and wasn't coming by. We agreed he should just come by next week, and get better; no need to come by this week as we can catch up next week. 

So it felt almost like a vacation. I got 20 things ready to list, easy as I'd taken two large things apart last night. 

 

92F out there

 I woke up at 3:30 in the afternoon and it was 92F out there. 

Practice before bed went surprisingly well. Regular practice plus busking should get me further along. It's just that the day job has to take first precedent right now. As I've told people, it's $57 a day I can count on, and a safe place to live. 

It had cooled down to 91F when I'd packed what I had time to pack, and got out of here. First a dropoff to FedEx, then the post office. Whew it's warm! Dropped off the post office stuff and went over to 99 Ranch for TP, and a bag of "double choc" Loecker "Quadratrini wafers. Those are dark chocolate filling and dark chocolate wafers, and well, seem to stop me up a bit. 

I'm having my breakfast mocha and 2 oz. of quadratini and 2 oz. more of quadratini later in the evening. I'm not sure it's the answer; the answer is probably eating broccoli every day. But it works better than not eating it, and I have a budget of $3-$4 a day for intestinal help, since I've been spending that on Yakult and kim chee, to no avail. 

I'm not saying quadratini are super healthy, but the double choc ones are less sweet, and the stuff's made in Austria, my first choice of source for quadratrini and painters who become politicians. 

 

 

the 2nd holocaust

 Well, it turns out ... holocausts are kind of  ... routine. I'm far more educated than most, in that I know very much about "The Holocaust(tm)" at all. But that only goes so far - just means I'm a good goy. Quite a while ago now, I found a long documentary on YouTube showing that genocides are actually things that happen and fairly often, and how much they're cried over depends on who they happen to and how much money and power they have. 

Hence, hardly anyone knows hardly anything about the Circassians, while the small-hats, whose whole guiding book is filled with little more than accounts of how they were able to kill off this and that group and it's OK their god said that's great and (pointing) go over there and there are some more people you can kill... ended up getting too greedy for their hosts in Germany, which naturally developed a proper immune reaction against them and well, of course to the small-hats this is the end of the world. 

But snipers intentionally aiming for children and members of the Press, A-OK! And so now there's a 2nd holocaust, arguably worse than the one the small-hats are always crying about,  and somehow this is all OK because they have all this money and power. Or so they think. 

I got up, packed things, and got going, taking said things to the post office, and I swung by the Filipino market because I'd not been there for so long. The guy there remembered me and said Hi, and I looked all around and just bought some ginger, and "Michael Savage" was on the TV. I mentioned he's Jewish and his actual name is Wiener (pronounced weener) and he wants you to send your kids to die for Israel. He said the Jews "have their hands in everything" and "all we can do is pray" and I said, "Also vote, and try to avoid giving them any money, don't buy their products". so that was a nice cheering little bit of Judenhass. 

I went to 99 Ranch and got a couple of things and they had bags of crispy fish skin for 97c so me and this little Chinese lady each got 4 of the 8 bags that were there. The chips are OK, but they forget to salt them. So I'll have to have them with some dip. 

I stopped by Tom's and we talked about things. I keep trying to get him to practice his trumpet and keep telling him to put something on the TV that's semi-interesting, and while watching it, just do basic exercises. 

Speaking of which, I had indeed played a full two hours last night and I'd noticed an interesting thing. I've found that when I was playing high notes like that one in "Danny Boy" or the high bits in the Sesame St. theme, which goes over surprisingly well, I was doing this subtle thing with the tip of my tongue, with the effect of making the mouth cavity small especially at the front, that was making the notes come out better. So I might be onto something. 

 

I play more locally

 It was a bangin' (tee hee) night for the illegal brothel, and I called the cops of course and they had a great time rousting everyone out, the rats leaving the sinking ship routine, etc.

I finally went to bed and slept until 1PM or so, then woke up again around 4. After all the transit time yesterday, I wanted to just busk locally. I headed for downtown around 5, swung by the Amazon place for bubble mailers, and got over to Whole Foods. 

The petition guy was there, and I gave him a bag of clips I had for him, that are a size he likes to use. Then I set up, did a little warm up then a song then checked the time; it was 6. So I'd play until at least 7. 

It went slowly at first, and eventually I got a dollar. Then I played for and ended up talking with a nice older Swiss couple who tipped me a $20. Then it went a bit better, but the main thing is, busking is really good practice. And I got tons of compliments. One (Black) gal came up and had no money but she's a trumpeter too, and said she'd get cash back and get me on the way out of Whole Foods, but of course that never happened. I can't really fault people for this though, because it's really easy to forget, do one's shopping, and not even think about it again. No biggie. 

Petition guy told me he had someone do something like that too, and he was a bit miffed. But I said it happens all the time, and I don't let it bother me. 

I ended up holding out until 8, so a whole two hours, and had made $42. So that brings me up to $100 for the weekend (actually $102 I think) and that means that more than half of my pay check stays in the bank this week. 

After I was done I went in and got some pork and cabbage and a pint of Guinness and ate and drank upstairs. By the time I was done with the eating part the only people upstairs were the bartender who was closing up, four rowdy guys at a table near me, and myself. Enter a skinny, kind of weird acting Black guy who kept going back and forth, and at one point the bartender asked him if he was OK. He was starting something with the four rowdy guys when I drank the last of the Guinness and got out of there. 

And the petition guy was still packing up. He'd quit the same time I did. So here it was about 9. A new player had entered the busking space; the skinny gal I'd shared the space with before, who has a cardboard sign so old it's almost more like cloth and she unrolled it. She sat on one of the bike rack things right next to my bike but I guess that means my bike was being watched. 

Petition Guy had a badge on a lanyard with one of those retracting things, with just a bar code on it. I took that inside and handed it over to Customer Service in case anyone comes looking for it, and as a reward for my little favor, found one more bubble mailer in the Amazon trash can, and a marking pen that writes perfectly well, too. I gave the marking pen to the skinny gal, and she thanked me for it. 

According to Petition Guy her name is Chloe and he'd bought her a bunch of food not long ago. He'd finally packed everything on this wagon he has, and I saw he was rolling it into the Whole Foods parking lot so I followed because I was curious what he'd driving. He's got a Toyota SUV with a V6 in it, which might explain why his mechanic wants 6 or 7 grand to put a new engine in it, since the present one has a cracked head and can only be used for short drives. Of course he's got tons of bumper stickers plastered on the back. 

The ride home was really nice and quiet, and I got back here, had plenty of coffee, and took some stuff apart while watching "The Best Days Of Our Lives", a 1946 movie about vets returning from WWII. I'd seen it on TV in the apartment I had in Waikiki in 2003, since the guy who'd lived there before had a really nice cable package then died suddenly which is how I got the place, and the cable company hadn't gotten the news. So it was a bit of nostalgia to see it again, plus it's a great movie. 

 

 

I play for the impoverished of Mountain View

 I took some stuff apart last night, made my usual online report and phone call to the police about the illegal brothel, yadda yadda. But if I'm up anyway, listening to stuff on YouTube, the pimps and ho's and johns aren't so bothersome. 

I slept so deeply when I woke up around 3:30 in the afternoon, I first thought I have to pack things to send, then realized it's Saturday and I don't have to do that, but planned to busk in Mountain View. 

I left here at 5:30 and by the time I got to Mountain View, on the #522 bus which is supposed to be faster but isn't, it was a bit past 8. 

So I was really only able to effectively busk for about a half hour, maybe a bit more. Now, people in Mountain View are poor. But there are a lot of them, and the main street, Castro Street, has been made mostly pedestrian-only, and the city has even put up things like ping pong tables, "corn hole", etc., all sorts of neat games to play for free, and of course walking is free. 

So the result is tons of people, and it's loud so I have to play loud, but not as many tips as I'd have thought. Still, in the half-hour I had to work in, I made $24.50. 

The main problem here is, 1/2-hour of actual earning, with two hours or more on each side of it. 

I played as late as I dared, until almost 9, and got on a train back to Diridon Station to walk back to Whole Foods where my bike was. I had maybe another 20 minutes I could busk there, and did so, making another $2. 

Again, it's money a person could live on, but the hours and hours of travel make the actual hourly pay quite low. My going to Mountain View to busk is like living in Hau'ula and busking at Koko Kai Marina in Hawaii Kai. At least once I'm out of here, I'll be living somewhere that's a walk or at most a short bus ride to Waikiki, the main busking venue. 

It had been another spendy day, as I'd checked places for those chocolate Quadratini things that seem to be straightening out my insides. CVS, nope. Ada's Market, yep, one overpriced bag, which I bought anyway on principle. Easy Foods had tons of them, a dollar or two cheaper than Ada's, so I got another bag there. Plus I'd bought two meat sticks and a bottle of coffee at Whole Foods before getting on the bus, plus when I was really all done and it was 10 minutes to closing at Whole Foods, I bought a pint of Guinness for just under $4. 

One back here, I counted my total money and I'm up still, to $72 or so. This isn't counting bus and train fares though, and I think there's an optimum way to "do" Mountain View. 

The optimum way is to walk out to the light rail station and take the light rail there. That takes a bit less than an hour, and the walk + the light rail ride is at least 1/2-hour faster than any other way and the cheapest. I could stay and play later without worrying about my bike being back at Whole Foods where if it's left in the rack after they close, will be stripped down and probably utterly gone. But taking the light rail back, I can get back later than 10 and just walk in.