I got back, got my practice in and had done a bit more than an hour's worth and it was time for Ken to come by, as he said he'd do, "Monday night". When he was 15 minutes overdue, I called him and he'll come by Wednesday, the usual time.
I futzed around and came up with a bunch of stuff to list, photo'd everything, and then decided I'd list the things the next day because listing Ebay things at 2-3-4AM is wierd.
So I got involved watching YouTube stuff, and had a few spritzes of my throat spray, which is mostly 120-proof Chinese white liquor. Then I decided the throat spray should be saved for an actual sore throat, and it's not healthy to swallow so much cherry flavored phenol however dilute, and I'd go right to the source.
Thus ensued the consumption of many capfuls of the liquor, and I got properly drunk.
This was not a good idea because I really didn't feel that much better or happier, and I woke up with a good proper hangover. I feel awful. Coffee and aspirin helped a bit, but I don't feel like eating much and certainly don't feel like practicing because it'll make my headache really pound, I fear.
There's a guy on the radio talking about "How Jesus Became God" or whatever the title of his book is, which I went right on Amazon and ordered. It'll get here at the end of April. It sounds fascinating; what hooked me was his saying that it was the Greeks who believed in an eternal soul, while the Jews believe in a soul but not an eternal one. That's a hell of a difference. So I really want to get and read this book, and then I can pass it on to Ken who's fascinated by this stuff, and then Suzy, Ken's wife, may want to read it too.
The virus has everything shut down but the idea is that things will come back in some form. And then it's back to thinking about where it's best to go to retire. Back in Hawaii I will be the hated "haole" regardless of the fact that I grew up there. Here in the SF bay area I'll just exist, at best. Life will be all about trying to avoid dying homeless in an alley. New Orleans seems tempting and being a trumpet player I'd be more wanted than unwanted. But it's part of the USA still and worse, part of the South. Converting to Judaism and retiring in Israel is still on the table. It means I need to get back to work learning Hebrew but all the tons of videos I've watched of Tel Aviv remind me very strongly of Honolulu when I was a kid, and there I'd be actively wanted. Playing trumpet/shofar would be a very nice icing on the cake.
(Shofars, it turns out, are not "tuned" the way bugles are and unless I find one that just happens to be tuned right, bugle calls do not work on a shofar. And here I'd been thinking my local temple could really use "Mess Call" being blown before the oneg, which is bread, wine, and generally a fair amount of food, served after the service.)
And the radio interview finished up, and it turns out it's for the latest book by the author, so I went and ordered that too. So there went about $40, but it's worth it if it helps me make a major decision like if I'm going to move as far away from Hawaii as one can get on this globe. I canceled the first book, since it's the latest that really gets into the things I'm interested in.
The thing is, the age of moving somewhere without deep thought is over. If I'm going to move back to Hawaii, as a hated "haole", I have to deeply believe in being there and the feeling has to outweigh the drawbacks of being a hated "haole". The same would go for New Orleans, which has cheap rents and crawfish and people using French words like they use Hawaiian and Japanese words back in Hawaii, but also has crime and angry black people and Southern politics. Israel's got angry Arabs and heredim (super-orthodox Jews who do things like not serve in the military and spit at gals wearing shorts) and is surrounded by enemies but from my research, seems to have more neat stuff going for it than any of the other places I've researched.
I managed to make a very nice bowl of miso soup with salmon in it, which made me feel better for a bit, and got the Ebay items listed. Ebay starts acting really weird late at night so doing the listings in the day or early evening is best these days.
I also got all my cans of fish etc organized into boxes that are all in one place. I'd keep everything in a military type footlocker upstairs except it gets too hot up there, but it's better to have my canned foods in a set of identical boxes that are all in one place, behind some other large boxes full of poorly-selling Ebay stuff. I've been following r/preppers on Reddit and the basic plan is to store stuff away in the face of a looming catastrophe like now, and only get into the "preps" when it's no longer tenable to go out to get things. In normal times, you buy what you'd normally eat and cycle through it, keeping a few months or a year's worth at all times so when disaster strikes you're already prepped.
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Monday, March 30, 2020
Line at whole foods
I was up, though not as early as I'd have liked, at about 3. After coffee and chocolate and nuts etc I was out the door at 4:20 (lol) and first dashed over to the post office and sent off Ebay packages.
Next was Dai Thanh where I got a bunch of stuff, including more salt and cardamom seed to be more in proportion to the black pepper I have for making biltong. I've wanted to for years.
After that I went to Whole Foods and parked the bike. I walked up to the hardware store and got another gallon of Simple Green (they'd restocked too) and a package of cheap bristle paint brushes that I find useful around here, worked out to $1 a brush.
I put the Simple Green and brushes in the bike bag and cleaned up and masked up and got into the line. More things are gone, and among other things I got a couple cans of psyllium fiber because a shelter diet is famous for giving a person constipation. There were two cans left of my favorite sardines, and I got a couple of the same brand in this weird lemon flavor that I've always thought must taste awful, but I also know that in a hard bunker-down situation, any variety will be welcome. It's the same reason I got 3 kinds of different dry beans at Dai Thanh.
At the checkout the kid said something about "one item" but he checked my things through, but this is a foreshadowing of when it may be one each of any item. It's getting tougher out there.
I'd spent about $140 today, but each buying trip like this buys me at least another week of hunker-in-the-bunker time.
And now I hear Whole Foods workers are striking tomorrow. I guess it's a good time I got in there today.
Next was Dai Thanh where I got a bunch of stuff, including more salt and cardamom seed to be more in proportion to the black pepper I have for making biltong. I've wanted to for years.
After that I went to Whole Foods and parked the bike. I walked up to the hardware store and got another gallon of Simple Green (they'd restocked too) and a package of cheap bristle paint brushes that I find useful around here, worked out to $1 a brush.
I put the Simple Green and brushes in the bike bag and cleaned up and masked up and got into the line. More things are gone, and among other things I got a couple cans of psyllium fiber because a shelter diet is famous for giving a person constipation. There were two cans left of my favorite sardines, and I got a couple of the same brand in this weird lemon flavor that I've always thought must taste awful, but I also know that in a hard bunker-down situation, any variety will be welcome. It's the same reason I got 3 kinds of different dry beans at Dai Thanh.
At the checkout the kid said something about "one item" but he checked my things through, but this is a foreshadowing of when it may be one each of any item. It's getting tougher out there.
I'd spent about $140 today, but each buying trip like this buys me at least another week of hunker-in-the-bunker time.
And now I hear Whole Foods workers are striking tomorrow. I guess it's a good time I got in there today.
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Quarantine means 40 days
I woke up at 4:20 (lol!) and did push-ups and crunches, because I really need to work on my fitness. It's nothing to do with the virus, I need to work on it anyway. I'm finding that trumpet playing at anything beyond beginner level requires having abdominal muscles that are coordinated with that the mouth is doing.
It's really, really quiet and as dawn broke early this morning and I finally went to bed, some bird was hollering up a storm. Life's got to be hard for birds right now because all the leftovers that people leave out are gone. I'm guessing it was a young gull hollering at one of its parents to feed it, not easy when they've got nothing to feed it with.
I was able to get an hour and a half of practice in - an hour of exercises out of the Irons book and then half of playing things I might play out on the street - I've been doing so much practice that's just noodling around doing exercises, that it's really been a reward when I relax and play an actual song or three, and find that I sound tons better than I used to. Good tone, range, etc. And it even feels more intuitive to play them.
So I played the Israeli national anthem and sounded great, America The Beautiful, Waltzing Mathilda, The Internationale, St. James Infirmary, etc. I've taken a huge step up, in practicing more regularly and in doing the kind of practice I've been doing, with the long tones and so on. I was playing along happily when a van pulled in at the Mr. Softee and that was it for the night - even if the guy's living in there, I don't want him to know I'm living in here, so that was enough trumpet for the night.
At least for the shut-in time, NPR's raised the quality of their shows a bit, and yesterday I heard the most wonderful playing by Wynton Marsalis. He's a year older than I am so he's old, but he's playing as well as anyone of any age. It was great to hear.
If it weren't for trumpet playing my life would be pretty drab and pointless. The idea of playing an instrument well or at least as well as one can, is to remind people that there is beauty in the world. Like most Americans I've been chased hither and thither by economic booms and crashes and chasing false dreams, and fleeing bad situations, and thus I have nothing that belonged to my parents or siblings, no photos or papers, nothing. But I have music the way everyone has music, stored away in my memories. This is how music survives. Having it written down is nice and I continue to struggle to get halfway good at reading off of printed music, but it survives.
President Tubby The Tuba has announced the shelter in place measures will apply through April, and since the original meaning of "quarantine" is literally 40 days, it makes sense.
It's really, really quiet and as dawn broke early this morning and I finally went to bed, some bird was hollering up a storm. Life's got to be hard for birds right now because all the leftovers that people leave out are gone. I'm guessing it was a young gull hollering at one of its parents to feed it, not easy when they've got nothing to feed it with.
I was able to get an hour and a half of practice in - an hour of exercises out of the Irons book and then half of playing things I might play out on the street - I've been doing so much practice that's just noodling around doing exercises, that it's really been a reward when I relax and play an actual song or three, and find that I sound tons better than I used to. Good tone, range, etc. And it even feels more intuitive to play them.
So I played the Israeli national anthem and sounded great, America The Beautiful, Waltzing Mathilda, The Internationale, St. James Infirmary, etc. I've taken a huge step up, in practicing more regularly and in doing the kind of practice I've been doing, with the long tones and so on. I was playing along happily when a van pulled in at the Mr. Softee and that was it for the night - even if the guy's living in there, I don't want him to know I'm living in here, so that was enough trumpet for the night.
At least for the shut-in time, NPR's raised the quality of their shows a bit, and yesterday I heard the most wonderful playing by Wynton Marsalis. He's a year older than I am so he's old, but he's playing as well as anyone of any age. It was great to hear.
If it weren't for trumpet playing my life would be pretty drab and pointless. The idea of playing an instrument well or at least as well as one can, is to remind people that there is beauty in the world. Like most Americans I've been chased hither and thither by economic booms and crashes and chasing false dreams, and fleeing bad situations, and thus I have nothing that belonged to my parents or siblings, no photos or papers, nothing. But I have music the way everyone has music, stored away in my memories. This is how music survives. Having it written down is nice and I continue to struggle to get halfway good at reading off of printed music, but it survives.
President Tubby The Tuba has announced the shelter in place measures will apply through April, and since the original meaning of "quarantine" is literally 40 days, it makes sense.
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Crackhead Auto Repair
The crackheads fiddled and fussed with their junk cars all night last night, so I maintained light discipline (duh; I always do), smell discipline (made an iced instant coffee instead of hot and had a cold-food dinner) and sound discipline by not practicing.
I'm beginning to miss how noisy this area used to be. Now birds are the masters of noise like they were long ago, with crows and gulls and all kinds of little tweety birds, and the occasional group of geese honking as they fly overhead.
Today I woke up and it was raining outside and only Ms. Crackhead was parked in her two junk cars over in the back corner of the parking lot. I was able to have some breakfast and do things and got some practice in. I just did some of the exercises in the Irons book I recently got, and I'm glad I got it. I did about an hour and that was enough for me.
I got some Ebay stuff listed, and sure enough, once it got late enough some of the other crackheads showed up and apparently washed Ms. Crackhead's two cars, I dunno why because they're real pieces of shit with body patch material applied with a trowel, but meth-heads like to do stuff like that.
I'm beginning to miss how noisy this area used to be. Now birds are the masters of noise like they were long ago, with crows and gulls and all kinds of little tweety birds, and the occasional group of geese honking as they fly overhead.
Today I woke up and it was raining outside and only Ms. Crackhead was parked in her two junk cars over in the back corner of the parking lot. I was able to have some breakfast and do things and got some practice in. I just did some of the exercises in the Irons book I recently got, and I'm glad I got it. I did about an hour and that was enough for me.
I got some Ebay stuff listed, and sure enough, once it got late enough some of the other crackheads showed up and apparently washed Ms. Crackhead's two cars, I dunno why because they're real pieces of shit with body patch material applied with a trowel, but meth-heads like to do stuff like that.
Friday, March 27, 2020
The last of the pepper spray
Last night I cleaned the trumpet, having put it in a tub of water to soak the night before, and tried to practice but ... there's a place on my lip that dried and I could not resist peeling it, and I thought my having a rough tone was due to the horn being dirty, hence the cleaning. It's good I cleaned it, but I need to take better care of my lip!
I was up in time to go to the cop store, so I did, to find that they're selling only to cops now, no friends etc.
Theoretically it should be a lot safer for a bicyclist with so much less traffic, but it seems like the asshole drivers are all still out. I went up onto the sidewalk to avoid one, and evaded a "Karen" in an SUV who no doubt would run me over with no compunction, only to have "Karen" essentially come after me into the driveway (not sure if hers now that I think about it) and had Ms. Fatness bitch me out about riding on the sidewalk. "It's illegal" etc. I said it's legal except for a few places downtown, and she said she'd just asked a cop (no, she didn't) and I said she's the menace, that she'd run me or anyone over without the slightest bit of guilt because her coffee's getting cold or any reason or none at all, and that went over about as well as expected. I asked her how I, on a 40lb vehicle, is more of a menace than a 4,000lb vehicle, and by then she'd pulled in enough that I could get around, I sang out her license plate number a couple of times (they love that) and I went on.
I'm not sure if it's even conscious, but drivers are really out to get anyone who's not also encased in several thousand pounds of metal.
To O'Reilley auto parts where I got more shop towels (and I'll keep buying them as long as they keep disappearing) another Ozium, and a half-size can of lock de-icer to retrofit into an improvised pepper spray. And 3-4 more bottles of HEET. I was explaining how I intended to use Ozium etc., as improvised pepper spray and after the guys there and I got comfortable with each other as frankly it's nice to shoot the shit and have some human interaction, they said they had pepper spray and I got their last Sabre pepper spray for $15. Without the whole song and dance this would never have happened. In fact they didn't crack loose about having pepper spray until after I'd told them about my traffic observations and one of the guys said he know, as he used to ride BMX bikes.
I got back here and put things away, and my old canister of pepper spray re-materialized upstairs, along with a rechargeable flashlight that had disappeared.
A customer had ordered a big box of some kind of medical/laboratory sanitation pads or something, in a big box weighing almost 30 lbs and sent a message saying "When will you ship this?" and I replied "Today" so I packed that, and packed an oscilloscope that in the box and padding weighed almost 50 lbs, and loaded those onto the bike trailer and dropped them off at FedEx.
Then I rode straight back here, had my coffee etc., and packed some small things which I took, without the trailer, to the post office and then went to 99 Ranch. I got 10 more cans of meat/fish, another bottle of "white lightning", 10 packs of Haw Flakes, etc. They're not taking cash so I used my card, and got two $1 coupons which I used to get a couple of tea eggs, and again got right back here and it's a good day because there was no bum contact.
I ate the tea eggs and some other stuff and was about ready to do some practice when I heard a voice outside. Some meth-head has set up with a vehicle I sense he may have freshly stolen or somehow acquired, since he was very busy cleaning it and removing stickers that were on it, and he's out there continually, as meth-heads do, darting around cleaning and re-arranging and then other meth-heads are visiting, including a visit from Ms. Crackhead, and I guess they're exchanging drugs and stolen stuff and enjoying the standard druggie tenor of life.
Since I'm not supposed to be here outside of working hours though, there went practice. The time to practice would have been the time I was out going to the cop store and auto parts store, and hauling things to the post office and FedEx. I need to move my schedule around to where I'm up at 8 or 9.
I was up in time to go to the cop store, so I did, to find that they're selling only to cops now, no friends etc.
Theoretically it should be a lot safer for a bicyclist with so much less traffic, but it seems like the asshole drivers are all still out. I went up onto the sidewalk to avoid one, and evaded a "Karen" in an SUV who no doubt would run me over with no compunction, only to have "Karen" essentially come after me into the driveway (not sure if hers now that I think about it) and had Ms. Fatness bitch me out about riding on the sidewalk. "It's illegal" etc. I said it's legal except for a few places downtown, and she said she'd just asked a cop (no, she didn't) and I said she's the menace, that she'd run me or anyone over without the slightest bit of guilt because her coffee's getting cold or any reason or none at all, and that went over about as well as expected. I asked her how I, on a 40lb vehicle, is more of a menace than a 4,000lb vehicle, and by then she'd pulled in enough that I could get around, I sang out her license plate number a couple of times (they love that) and I went on.
I'm not sure if it's even conscious, but drivers are really out to get anyone who's not also encased in several thousand pounds of metal.
To O'Reilley auto parts where I got more shop towels (and I'll keep buying them as long as they keep disappearing) another Ozium, and a half-size can of lock de-icer to retrofit into an improvised pepper spray. And 3-4 more bottles of HEET. I was explaining how I intended to use Ozium etc., as improvised pepper spray and after the guys there and I got comfortable with each other as frankly it's nice to shoot the shit and have some human interaction, they said they had pepper spray and I got their last Sabre pepper spray for $15. Without the whole song and dance this would never have happened. In fact they didn't crack loose about having pepper spray until after I'd told them about my traffic observations and one of the guys said he know, as he used to ride BMX bikes.
I got back here and put things away, and my old canister of pepper spray re-materialized upstairs, along with a rechargeable flashlight that had disappeared.
A customer had ordered a big box of some kind of medical/laboratory sanitation pads or something, in a big box weighing almost 30 lbs and sent a message saying "When will you ship this?" and I replied "Today" so I packed that, and packed an oscilloscope that in the box and padding weighed almost 50 lbs, and loaded those onto the bike trailer and dropped them off at FedEx.
Then I rode straight back here, had my coffee etc., and packed some small things which I took, without the trailer, to the post office and then went to 99 Ranch. I got 10 more cans of meat/fish, another bottle of "white lightning", 10 packs of Haw Flakes, etc. They're not taking cash so I used my card, and got two $1 coupons which I used to get a couple of tea eggs, and again got right back here and it's a good day because there was no bum contact.
I ate the tea eggs and some other stuff and was about ready to do some practice when I heard a voice outside. Some meth-head has set up with a vehicle I sense he may have freshly stolen or somehow acquired, since he was very busy cleaning it and removing stickers that were on it, and he's out there continually, as meth-heads do, darting around cleaning and re-arranging and then other meth-heads are visiting, including a visit from Ms. Crackhead, and I guess they're exchanging drugs and stolen stuff and enjoying the standard druggie tenor of life.
Since I'm not supposed to be here outside of working hours though, there went practice. The time to practice would have been the time I was out going to the cop store and auto parts store, and hauling things to the post office and FedEx. I need to move my schedule around to where I'm up at 8 or 9.
Thursday, March 26, 2020
The bank gets nicer
I was up at 3 because I didn't go to bed nearly early enough to have an early start.
After coffee and chocolate and walnuts etc. I took off for the bank, and the guy working today was actually pretty nice. I even thanked him for being nice. My account balance was where it should be, and I've regained a little bit of confidence in the idea of banks at least for now.
Next I went over to Dai Thanh and got a few things, more canned fish, some of the really fine-grind coffee I've been using with a filter in my Vietnamese pour over coffee maker in a mix with French Market chicory coffee. They seemed to have all the things a market ought to have, even eggs. I remembered salt when I saw cans of Morton's there, and got a bag of cardamom seeds, used in a recipe for "biltong" which is a South African kind of beef jerkey, which I've wanted to try making for years.
I rode over to the Amazon pickup and got my trumpet valve oil and Uniden scanner, and then remembered that the biltong recipe also calls for a good amount of ground black pepper, and went back over to Dai Thanh where I paid about $11 for a big bag of it. I think it's a couple pounds.
Then I circled around and went to Whole Foods. The shelves are getting emptier there and I got a few cans of sardines and since 100% cacao chocolate chips are gone now, I got some cocoa butter and cocoa powder I can experiment making them with, when it comes to that. I also got some more vitamins, and all in all I spent a bit over $100.
I headed back, and stopped at Nijiya for a nice daikon radish, some celery which I like even at their prices, and a few other things including a sashimi on rice package because I generally get some sort of a treat on paycheck day. They were only letting 10 people in at a time and had one employee stationed out front - the guy I like to talk with; he's Caucasian but has taught himself Japanese and is pretty cool. I asked how he's holding out, financially, and he said he's down to 3 days a week but has savings, and I started to say I have some savings too... But his job metering people in and out was keeping him pretty busy so he said, "I've love to talk more but I have to do this" and I said "All you need is a badge and a baton" and that got a real laugh out of him so that made me feel good.
I rode over to O'Reilley's auto parts where I got some HEET in the yellow bottles which is pure methanol and can be mixed with the high-test Chinese white liquor to a 70% concentration to use in place of the now unobtainable rubbing alcohol. I also got a couple of rolls of shop towels which is good because for now the two rolls I got before have fucking disappeared. In addition, I got a bottle of Ozium, air freshener much-beloved of stoners who smoke in their cars since I was a kid, but which I think I can (a) say I have some excuse to have and (b) can modify the nozzle of to make it spray a stream, and thus carry it in place of pepper spray. I got one of those half-sized cans of stuff for displacing water out of electrical connections for the same reason. I'm still certain I have a canister of pepper spray around here, it's just a matter of finding it.
What this all comes down to is I have to get much more, compulsively more, organized than I already am. I remember reading in saxophonist Art Pepper's autobiography Straight Life, about how when he was in prison for being a heroin addict, he and his cellmates kept their place so clean you could eat off of the floor. I'm not sure how much they had to organize, but I'm sure it was meticulously organized.
I got back here with the bike loaded up like a fat galleon, noting that Ms. Crackhead still has both of her junk cars out front, with a little generator going, and the pickup truck being worked on by some bums near the front is still being worked on, and got my ass in here and enjoyed my sashimi on rice.
It was, I guess, how it used to be in March out there. Cold, even if not as cold as mid-winter, with a cold wind blowing even when the sun was out. I only got rained on a little here and there. And when the sun was out, it was like the sun in Hawaii, very strong. There are just not many people out, and very few drivers - those few who are out seem to be disproportionately assholes so I had to keep using the same tricks of misdirection, evasion, occasionally hopping onto the sidewalk or going the wrong way, as I do when traffic is normal. There were plenty of bums out because if you're a bum, where are you going to go?
I got the scanner out and have it charging - it will charge off of any USB port or any wall wart supplying USB voltage and I have an extra one of those so it's got its own dedicated charger. The reviews say it works better with this one particular antenna, but it's $30 for effectively a BNC connector with a wire on it, so I"m just going to make one. The thing is, if the broadcast stations go kaput, there will still be radio chatter out there for me to listen to. I've wanted this particular model of scanner for years and I'm glad I finally got one.
I'm glad I got a new rear wheel on my bike, too. I kind of felt like, I could keep having the hub adjusted and keep it oiled and I'd probably be fine for another year or two, but who knows? A brand new wheel sets the "counter" to zero, and now I don't know if I could get one - maybe, but I've not been by any bike shops. I should really get a set of tires and tubes for when I need to replace those next. I really should get a lot of things .... I'm starting to be more nervous about the bike perhaps being stolen, like when I went to O'Reilly's because there was a crazy guy kicking hell out of a street sign post and yelling, and when he saw me head for O'Reilly's yelled "It'd better be opennnnnn!" and I was a bit nervous about him but he wandered up the street and I just locked the bike to itself having no post etc to lock it to. Without a bike my life gets a LOT harder in normal times, and now they've largely shut down public transit.
After coffee and chocolate and walnuts etc. I took off for the bank, and the guy working today was actually pretty nice. I even thanked him for being nice. My account balance was where it should be, and I've regained a little bit of confidence in the idea of banks at least for now.
Next I went over to Dai Thanh and got a few things, more canned fish, some of the really fine-grind coffee I've been using with a filter in my Vietnamese pour over coffee maker in a mix with French Market chicory coffee. They seemed to have all the things a market ought to have, even eggs. I remembered salt when I saw cans of Morton's there, and got a bag of cardamom seeds, used in a recipe for "biltong" which is a South African kind of beef jerkey, which I've wanted to try making for years.
I rode over to the Amazon pickup and got my trumpet valve oil and Uniden scanner, and then remembered that the biltong recipe also calls for a good amount of ground black pepper, and went back over to Dai Thanh where I paid about $11 for a big bag of it. I think it's a couple pounds.
Then I circled around and went to Whole Foods. The shelves are getting emptier there and I got a few cans of sardines and since 100% cacao chocolate chips are gone now, I got some cocoa butter and cocoa powder I can experiment making them with, when it comes to that. I also got some more vitamins, and all in all I spent a bit over $100.
I headed back, and stopped at Nijiya for a nice daikon radish, some celery which I like even at their prices, and a few other things including a sashimi on rice package because I generally get some sort of a treat on paycheck day. They were only letting 10 people in at a time and had one employee stationed out front - the guy I like to talk with; he's Caucasian but has taught himself Japanese and is pretty cool. I asked how he's holding out, financially, and he said he's down to 3 days a week but has savings, and I started to say I have some savings too... But his job metering people in and out was keeping him pretty busy so he said, "I've love to talk more but I have to do this" and I said "All you need is a badge and a baton" and that got a real laugh out of him so that made me feel good.
I rode over to O'Reilley's auto parts where I got some HEET in the yellow bottles which is pure methanol and can be mixed with the high-test Chinese white liquor to a 70% concentration to use in place of the now unobtainable rubbing alcohol. I also got a couple of rolls of shop towels which is good because for now the two rolls I got before have fucking disappeared. In addition, I got a bottle of Ozium, air freshener much-beloved of stoners who smoke in their cars since I was a kid, but which I think I can (a) say I have some excuse to have and (b) can modify the nozzle of to make it spray a stream, and thus carry it in place of pepper spray. I got one of those half-sized cans of stuff for displacing water out of electrical connections for the same reason. I'm still certain I have a canister of pepper spray around here, it's just a matter of finding it.
What this all comes down to is I have to get much more, compulsively more, organized than I already am. I remember reading in saxophonist Art Pepper's autobiography Straight Life, about how when he was in prison for being a heroin addict, he and his cellmates kept their place so clean you could eat off of the floor. I'm not sure how much they had to organize, but I'm sure it was meticulously organized.
I got back here with the bike loaded up like a fat galleon, noting that Ms. Crackhead still has both of her junk cars out front, with a little generator going, and the pickup truck being worked on by some bums near the front is still being worked on, and got my ass in here and enjoyed my sashimi on rice.
It was, I guess, how it used to be in March out there. Cold, even if not as cold as mid-winter, with a cold wind blowing even when the sun was out. I only got rained on a little here and there. And when the sun was out, it was like the sun in Hawaii, very strong. There are just not many people out, and very few drivers - those few who are out seem to be disproportionately assholes so I had to keep using the same tricks of misdirection, evasion, occasionally hopping onto the sidewalk or going the wrong way, as I do when traffic is normal. There were plenty of bums out because if you're a bum, where are you going to go?
I got the scanner out and have it charging - it will charge off of any USB port or any wall wart supplying USB voltage and I have an extra one of those so it's got its own dedicated charger. The reviews say it works better with this one particular antenna, but it's $30 for effectively a BNC connector with a wire on it, so I"m just going to make one. The thing is, if the broadcast stations go kaput, there will still be radio chatter out there for me to listen to. I've wanted this particular model of scanner for years and I'm glad I finally got one.
I'm glad I got a new rear wheel on my bike, too. I kind of felt like, I could keep having the hub adjusted and keep it oiled and I'd probably be fine for another year or two, but who knows? A brand new wheel sets the "counter" to zero, and now I don't know if I could get one - maybe, but I've not been by any bike shops. I should really get a set of tires and tubes for when I need to replace those next. I really should get a lot of things .... I'm starting to be more nervous about the bike perhaps being stolen, like when I went to O'Reilly's because there was a crazy guy kicking hell out of a street sign post and yelling, and when he saw me head for O'Reilly's yelled "It'd better be opennnnnn!" and I was a bit nervous about him but he wandered up the street and I just locked the bike to itself having no post etc to lock it to. Without a bike my life gets a LOT harder in normal times, and now they've largely shut down public transit.
Wednesday, March 25, 2020
COVID cut
Up at 2, so not really early enough to get over to the cop store, but then it's raining anyway. I'm pretty sure I have a canister of Sabre pepper spray, I just need to find it and doing that will require that I get the loft all organized - it's full of cardboard boxes I'd hoarded because normally at this time of the year it rains a lot so gathering them outside is problematical. Well, this COVID thing comes in and I'm glad I've got all these boxes now because even the lower quality ones can be cut up for padding.
The plan last night was to get to bed early so I'd get up early and I am up earlier than I have been, but it will take some time to "walk" my schedule earlier. Ideally, I'd be out and about, if I am, from 10-2 and inside the rest of the time.
I got one notable thing accomplished last night though. I did my own haircut. I had some coffee and then started in, thinking if the battery in my little beard trimmer gives out I'll have time to re-charge it and finish my cut, but it was going strong when I was finished and it took a little while. I've paid good money for cuts of the quality I gave myself. Using the 2nd to smallest shoe for the top and the smallest shoe for the sides, it came out pretty well. And it feels great to be rid of that mop of hair I was developing.
Years ago I used to cut my own hair, and it was a complicated cut that involved short tapered sides and long on top, thinned with thinning scissors or a type of cutting I invented, and shading short to long on one side because the top was combed over to one side. Plus I used that stuff you spritz on that lets the sun bleach it out a bit, so I had this gradual blonde thing going on top. It was pretty crazy. A simple buzz is nothing compared to this.
In fact, I've probably been spending a couple hundred a year on haircuts, plus the hassle of going over to the place, waiting my turn, being itchy until I can get home and wash my hair, etc. I could buy some really nice clippers for that.
The rain stopped and it got pretty sunny outside, so I took the week's trash and some postal service packages and headed out at 6. Since it was so cold and windy out, I didn't see a single bum. The chute at the post office was jammed so I just put my packages in one of those boxes they keep around, and put it where you put packages when the chute is not working. This is why I try to always go there when it's actually open and there are people there.
I went to 99 Ranch and got 15 more cans of meat and fish, plus a few other things, then got more stuff at H Mart. In both cases, people are staying far apart, and the cashiers were not in a good mood. I got a talking-to for not bringing in my own bag at 99 Ranch - OK lady, I'll bring in germs. At H Mart the card reader didn't work so I paid cash, and you have to bag your own things and quick, as they're rushing people through. I spent about $100 between the two places and it gives me 2 more weeks of "bunker time".
If I get sick, I'll be living off of miso soup, diet soda, ginseng drink, and my own body fat. A 2-3 week semi-fast would not hurt me, really. Ebay could be put on holiday mode if I get too weak to work, and I think things would go OK.
I got a little practice in, maybe 20 minutes, when Ken came by. I got my check and he says he has mail for me including a jury duty notice but he forgot to bring it. I made him a cup of tea and we talked about stuff, and I got my pay check.
After Ken left I practiced a bit more, but I think I need to clean the trumpet because there's roughness in the sound that I think is gunk in the trumpet not me.
The plan last night was to get to bed early so I'd get up early and I am up earlier than I have been, but it will take some time to "walk" my schedule earlier. Ideally, I'd be out and about, if I am, from 10-2 and inside the rest of the time.
I got one notable thing accomplished last night though. I did my own haircut. I had some coffee and then started in, thinking if the battery in my little beard trimmer gives out I'll have time to re-charge it and finish my cut, but it was going strong when I was finished and it took a little while. I've paid good money for cuts of the quality I gave myself. Using the 2nd to smallest shoe for the top and the smallest shoe for the sides, it came out pretty well. And it feels great to be rid of that mop of hair I was developing.
Years ago I used to cut my own hair, and it was a complicated cut that involved short tapered sides and long on top, thinned with thinning scissors or a type of cutting I invented, and shading short to long on one side because the top was combed over to one side. Plus I used that stuff you spritz on that lets the sun bleach it out a bit, so I had this gradual blonde thing going on top. It was pretty crazy. A simple buzz is nothing compared to this.
In fact, I've probably been spending a couple hundred a year on haircuts, plus the hassle of going over to the place, waiting my turn, being itchy until I can get home and wash my hair, etc. I could buy some really nice clippers for that.
The rain stopped and it got pretty sunny outside, so I took the week's trash and some postal service packages and headed out at 6. Since it was so cold and windy out, I didn't see a single bum. The chute at the post office was jammed so I just put my packages in one of those boxes they keep around, and put it where you put packages when the chute is not working. This is why I try to always go there when it's actually open and there are people there.
I went to 99 Ranch and got 15 more cans of meat and fish, plus a few other things, then got more stuff at H Mart. In both cases, people are staying far apart, and the cashiers were not in a good mood. I got a talking-to for not bringing in my own bag at 99 Ranch - OK lady, I'll bring in germs. At H Mart the card reader didn't work so I paid cash, and you have to bag your own things and quick, as they're rushing people through. I spent about $100 between the two places and it gives me 2 more weeks of "bunker time".
If I get sick, I'll be living off of miso soup, diet soda, ginseng drink, and my own body fat. A 2-3 week semi-fast would not hurt me, really. Ebay could be put on holiday mode if I get too weak to work, and I think things would go OK.
I got a little practice in, maybe 20 minutes, when Ken came by. I got my check and he says he has mail for me including a jury duty notice but he forgot to bring it. I made him a cup of tea and we talked about stuff, and I got my pay check.
After Ken left I practiced a bit more, but I think I need to clean the trumpet because there's roughness in the sound that I think is gunk in the trumpet not me.
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Eerily quiet
Last night I stashed my cans of fish and meat away in slightly more stealthy places, so I guess besides acquiring them that's what I did to prep. I tried listing some things on Ebay but Ebay wasn't working so I only got one thing listed.
It's eerily quiet out there. Sounds carry like crazy now. If I'm to practice, I need to do it within working hours because the nights are just too quiet and the bums are certainly out and about. Besides light discipline which I already observe, I'll have to observe sound and smell discipline. No more late night practice and hot meals will have to be cooked during the day. Late night coffee will have to be cold.
I woke up at 3, right when the cop store closes so today was not the day to go there and see about pepper spray or any other goodies. Amazon doesn't mail pepper spray to California so that's out. I have a canister around here somewhere, plus there's the cop store if they have it and will sell me some (Big-5 is closed) and there are other options like getting some Ozium from the car parts place which comes in a small, highly pressurized can, easy to carry in a pocket. I think I can modify the spray nozzle on it to make it put out a stream instead of a spray, and there you have it, a jive-ass defense weapon.
I got an hour of practice in, mostly concentrating on endurance exercises. I'm thinking of ordering Laurie Frink's book "Flexus" which is apparently an update of the Caruso method and expensive but the Caruso book is too.
If I'm not busking for a year, it's a good idea to make this a year of improvement. I had a year like this as a competitive shooter where I practiced like crazy for a year without any important competitions really, and it paid off.
I just cooked up some scrambled eggs and smelly spicy "Cajun" sausage from the freezer. Once used up, I won't get more because like bacon, it really advertises that someone is cooking something good. If I eat something later tonight it will be something cold.
I looked up the CDC stats on regular yearly flu, and it's a hell of a killer. 30,000-50,000 deaths a year. The same sort of death profile as Covid too. It is any more pleasant to die of flu than Covid? Both apparently kill by pneumonia. It reminds of me reading a falconry magazine, and a guy related a story about his latest hunting trip, where his falcon had gotten a skunk. Now it was a question of untangling everyone without getting sprayed. The guy describes the skunk being really freaked out by him, the human, being there vs. the hawk that had its talons in it. The way he puts it is, that the skunk didn't mind being eaten by a hawk so much, as it was a familiar foe. I really wonder if this is the case with regards to Covid.
It's eerily quiet out there. Sounds carry like crazy now. If I'm to practice, I need to do it within working hours because the nights are just too quiet and the bums are certainly out and about. Besides light discipline which I already observe, I'll have to observe sound and smell discipline. No more late night practice and hot meals will have to be cooked during the day. Late night coffee will have to be cold.
I woke up at 3, right when the cop store closes so today was not the day to go there and see about pepper spray or any other goodies. Amazon doesn't mail pepper spray to California so that's out. I have a canister around here somewhere, plus there's the cop store if they have it and will sell me some (Big-5 is closed) and there are other options like getting some Ozium from the car parts place which comes in a small, highly pressurized can, easy to carry in a pocket. I think I can modify the spray nozzle on it to make it put out a stream instead of a spray, and there you have it, a jive-ass defense weapon.
I got an hour of practice in, mostly concentrating on endurance exercises. I'm thinking of ordering Laurie Frink's book "Flexus" which is apparently an update of the Caruso method and expensive but the Caruso book is too.
If I'm not busking for a year, it's a good idea to make this a year of improvement. I had a year like this as a competitive shooter where I practiced like crazy for a year without any important competitions really, and it paid off.
I just cooked up some scrambled eggs and smelly spicy "Cajun" sausage from the freezer. Once used up, I won't get more because like bacon, it really advertises that someone is cooking something good. If I eat something later tonight it will be something cold.
I looked up the CDC stats on regular yearly flu, and it's a hell of a killer. 30,000-50,000 deaths a year. The same sort of death profile as Covid too. It is any more pleasant to die of flu than Covid? Both apparently kill by pneumonia. It reminds of me reading a falconry magazine, and a guy related a story about his latest hunting trip, where his falcon had gotten a skunk. Now it was a question of untangling everyone without getting sprayed. The guy describes the skunk being really freaked out by him, the human, being there vs. the hawk that had its talons in it. The way he puts it is, that the skunk didn't mind being eaten by a hawk so much, as it was a familiar foe. I really wonder if this is the case with regards to Covid.
Monday, March 23, 2020
What did you do to prep today?
I woke up too late to try going to the cop store or Big-5, so I packed things to take to the post office and had my coffee etc., and was out the door at 5:30. This may be too late considering how things are out there, as the bums are coming out of hiding. A bum with a bike and trailer came by the other way on Brokaw and called out to me, "Where's your trailer?" Of course other than veering around him I made no notice that I'd seen him or heard anything.
The post office was no problem, then I went to 99 Ranch because I can get cash back there. I'd counted up my canned fish etc and had 17 cans. I got kind of mixed up and thought I needed 17 cans, so I got 17 cans of various fish and some cans of Underwood pork liver spread. I'd decided yesterday I want to have 30 cans of fish or meat, enough to last a month at one can a day. I got some other stuff too, and with $40 cash back it came to just under $100.
As long as cash back works, I can bleed down my bank account and gradually have most of my money in cash here. I'd rather keep enough in the bank to pay my taxes with, but I'm also worried, 1930s style, about their taking my money along with everyone else's and putting it in a big suitcase or something and taking the next train out of here.
So I'm getting cash back when I can, but not too much at any one place, at any one time.
I rode back without stopping at H Mart, and passed that same bum with a bike and trailer again, but he didn't say anything. A bit further on, there was a crazy lady bum who's been a feature around here in the past, and as I rode by, looking to see the the dark heap by the bus stop was a pile of clothes or a person, she yelled at me, "Gimme dollar, bitch!".
I stopped by the electrical supply to see if there were any small boxes, and found a Lego box that looks good for mailing some small thing. A friendly-ish bum there rambled on about how there's been no trash pickup for a week.
I got out of there and came riding back here, fast, to avoid any further bums. Ms. Crackhead seems happily camped out at the front of the complex with her little generator running, and may be happier there because it's probably easier for her drug dealer to find here there.
Because of all these bums, I think I need to get out and do my errands a lot earlier in the day and be back in by the time I'd normally be heading out.
The post office was no problem, then I went to 99 Ranch because I can get cash back there. I'd counted up my canned fish etc and had 17 cans. I got kind of mixed up and thought I needed 17 cans, so I got 17 cans of various fish and some cans of Underwood pork liver spread. I'd decided yesterday I want to have 30 cans of fish or meat, enough to last a month at one can a day. I got some other stuff too, and with $40 cash back it came to just under $100.
As long as cash back works, I can bleed down my bank account and gradually have most of my money in cash here. I'd rather keep enough in the bank to pay my taxes with, but I'm also worried, 1930s style, about their taking my money along with everyone else's and putting it in a big suitcase or something and taking the next train out of here.
So I'm getting cash back when I can, but not too much at any one place, at any one time.
I rode back without stopping at H Mart, and passed that same bum with a bike and trailer again, but he didn't say anything. A bit further on, there was a crazy lady bum who's been a feature around here in the past, and as I rode by, looking to see the the dark heap by the bus stop was a pile of clothes or a person, she yelled at me, "Gimme dollar, bitch!".
I stopped by the electrical supply to see if there were any small boxes, and found a Lego box that looks good for mailing some small thing. A friendly-ish bum there rambled on about how there's been no trash pickup for a week.
I got out of there and came riding back here, fast, to avoid any further bums. Ms. Crackhead seems happily camped out at the front of the complex with her little generator running, and may be happier there because it's probably easier for her drug dealer to find here there.
Because of all these bums, I think I need to get out and do my errands a lot earlier in the day and be back in by the time I'd normally be heading out.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Dark out there
Dark and rainy when I woke up at 2 in the afternoon, because the power was out. What awakened me was a guy walking back and forth in the parking lot here pushing an empty shopping cart, yelling a blue streak in Spanish. The guy had some real stamina. I put my bedding away but did not turn on the radio or make coffee since I didn't want him to know I'm in here.
Eventually, I heard him say humbly and a lot more quietly in English, "Thank you sir" and I think someone over at the Mr. Softee (I think at least one person lives in there) either gave him some money or food or something, or told him if he leaves, there won't be repercussions. He walked off, let out one more small burst of cussing, and was gone.
Before his mollification, I'd gone upstairs and gotten down the long fluorescent lamp box that happens to contain the 10/22 rifle I bought back when I thought my biggest worry might be Nazis marching down my street. Not to say that won't turn out to be my biggest problem some time, but the thing is, the day after Heather Heyer was murdered, I was at one of my local sporting goods stores and got this thing along with 1000 rounds of ammo and a scope and an extra magazine or two.
I'd really like to have a few spare parts for it, a folding stock, and a couple more magazines but it seems the time to buy those things has passed. What I've got is what I've got. And I only have that because I "prepped" a few years ago. I only wish I'd bought a spare extractor and spring, since I had that part break on a target pistol that uses the very same parts, but now that I think about it, the extractor on that only broke after many thousands of rounds of target practice. I probably don't need to worry.
Since I still had no power, I got out the tea pot I'd just bought and washed it, and using it on the butane stove, boiled some water in it which I poured out, then boiled up water and made a cup of coffee and had my breakfast of coffee, chocolate, and some raw walnuts. As seems to be happening a lot lately, my getting something because it might be a good idea later, turned out to be a good idea right away.
I read more of the Anatomy Of Paradise book with the door open for light, and eventually some PG&E trucks showed up and they started working on the poles here. According to NPR, it was all done raining so I figured I had the all clear to go out, and I figured I'd go over to Target and get a manual toothbrush since my electric toothbrush is of limited usefulness if the power's going to go out all the time, and a few other things. I even got across Old Bayshore when it started to rain, then dashed to get under the bridge, thinking I'll wait until the shower passes.
So I hung out under the bridge and after a while realized it's not just going to pass any time soon. So I got soaked riding back to the shop, and no doubt provided some amusement for the PG&E guys who were now wearing some really impressive rain gear. I got back in, hung my wet clothes up to dry and got into dry stuff, and relaxed a bit, reading more of the Anatomy Of Paradise book. The thing's a gold mine, really.
I've been thinking I'll read a lot of older books on archive.org but that's hard to do with no power. I really need to hoard some classic books.
I decided to make some use of what was left of daylight and cut some labels for some drawers I had things in but were unlabeled, and labeled and put some parts in a couple of others. And have labels cut for 40(!) drawers I have maybe half filled, and am in the process of making liners for out of political yard signs.
I'd just rolled down the big door here and was having a look outside when I saw a PG&E worker walking from the back of the complex (they'd messed with 3 out of 4 poles here) and Lo and behold the power was back on. I'd even called Ken and told him he might want to check Ebay and take care of anything time - sensitive since I don't have power, and Ken said in a pinch he could bring over a generator (that I sold him about a decade ago!) but I said they'll probably have things fixed tonight or tomorrow at latest, and sure enough they'd fixed it. At one point not only was it raining heavily but there was thunder and lightning out there but they'd kept at it. I guess being a PG&E line worker means knowing the weather will always put on its worse, just for you.
So I fielded a couple of offers on Ebay and all's back to normal for now. What a way to start a day, though. I could have offered Mr. Yelling Bum some money or a stiff drink, but then he'd just come back and bring his friends. I need to come up with a way to have the rifle on hooks or something under my desk here, out of sight but ready to hand if needed.
It's all put me in a bit of a mood. I think tomorrow I'm going to slide by the cop store and see if I can get some pepper spray as the canister I have is something like 10 years old at least, and the little Pepper Blaster thing I have almost as old, and it turns out Amazon doesn't mail pepper spray to California. Oh, and the gun stores area all closed. So the cop store and Big-5 may be closed, but it's worth a try tomorrow.
I also went on Amazon and ordered a radio scanner I'd been thinking about buying for several years. Mainly I just like to listen to weird stuff, like I'll be able to listen to the airport communications. But there are tons of oddball communications to listen to like railroad stuff, the local hams, and some police and sheriff stuff that's not encrypted yet.
Eventually, I heard him say humbly and a lot more quietly in English, "Thank you sir" and I think someone over at the Mr. Softee (I think at least one person lives in there) either gave him some money or food or something, or told him if he leaves, there won't be repercussions. He walked off, let out one more small burst of cussing, and was gone.
Before his mollification, I'd gone upstairs and gotten down the long fluorescent lamp box that happens to contain the 10/22 rifle I bought back when I thought my biggest worry might be Nazis marching down my street. Not to say that won't turn out to be my biggest problem some time, but the thing is, the day after Heather Heyer was murdered, I was at one of my local sporting goods stores and got this thing along with 1000 rounds of ammo and a scope and an extra magazine or two.
I'd really like to have a few spare parts for it, a folding stock, and a couple more magazines but it seems the time to buy those things has passed. What I've got is what I've got. And I only have that because I "prepped" a few years ago. I only wish I'd bought a spare extractor and spring, since I had that part break on a target pistol that uses the very same parts, but now that I think about it, the extractor on that only broke after many thousands of rounds of target practice. I probably don't need to worry.
Since I still had no power, I got out the tea pot I'd just bought and washed it, and using it on the butane stove, boiled some water in it which I poured out, then boiled up water and made a cup of coffee and had my breakfast of coffee, chocolate, and some raw walnuts. As seems to be happening a lot lately, my getting something because it might be a good idea later, turned out to be a good idea right away.
I read more of the Anatomy Of Paradise book with the door open for light, and eventually some PG&E trucks showed up and they started working on the poles here. According to NPR, it was all done raining so I figured I had the all clear to go out, and I figured I'd go over to Target and get a manual toothbrush since my electric toothbrush is of limited usefulness if the power's going to go out all the time, and a few other things. I even got across Old Bayshore when it started to rain, then dashed to get under the bridge, thinking I'll wait until the shower passes.
So I hung out under the bridge and after a while realized it's not just going to pass any time soon. So I got soaked riding back to the shop, and no doubt provided some amusement for the PG&E guys who were now wearing some really impressive rain gear. I got back in, hung my wet clothes up to dry and got into dry stuff, and relaxed a bit, reading more of the Anatomy Of Paradise book. The thing's a gold mine, really.
I've been thinking I'll read a lot of older books on archive.org but that's hard to do with no power. I really need to hoard some classic books.
I decided to make some use of what was left of daylight and cut some labels for some drawers I had things in but were unlabeled, and labeled and put some parts in a couple of others. And have labels cut for 40(!) drawers I have maybe half filled, and am in the process of making liners for out of political yard signs.
I'd just rolled down the big door here and was having a look outside when I saw a PG&E worker walking from the back of the complex (they'd messed with 3 out of 4 poles here) and Lo and behold the power was back on. I'd even called Ken and told him he might want to check Ebay and take care of anything time - sensitive since I don't have power, and Ken said in a pinch he could bring over a generator (that I sold him about a decade ago!) but I said they'll probably have things fixed tonight or tomorrow at latest, and sure enough they'd fixed it. At one point not only was it raining heavily but there was thunder and lightning out there but they'd kept at it. I guess being a PG&E line worker means knowing the weather will always put on its worse, just for you.
So I fielded a couple of offers on Ebay and all's back to normal for now. What a way to start a day, though. I could have offered Mr. Yelling Bum some money or a stiff drink, but then he'd just come back and bring his friends. I need to come up with a way to have the rifle on hooks or something under my desk here, out of sight but ready to hand if needed.
It's all put me in a bit of a mood. I think tomorrow I'm going to slide by the cop store and see if I can get some pepper spray as the canister I have is something like 10 years old at least, and the little Pepper Blaster thing I have almost as old, and it turns out Amazon doesn't mail pepper spray to California. Oh, and the gun stores area all closed. So the cop store and Big-5 may be closed, but it's worth a try tomorrow.
I also went on Amazon and ordered a radio scanner I'd been thinking about buying for several years. Mainly I just like to listen to weird stuff, like I'll be able to listen to the airport communications. But there are tons of oddball communications to listen to like railroad stuff, the local hams, and some police and sheriff stuff that's not encrypted yet.
Saturday, March 21, 2020
Horse flu, achoo!
I listed a bunch of stuff I'd taken out of the equipment I'd taken apart the night before, last night. That kept me up until about 4, and I didn't feel like practicing so I didn't. I read a bit more of the Anatomy Of Paradise book, which is just amazing. There's so much crammed in there.
While doing listings, I listened to some lectures as I often do on YouTube, and one was great - a guy studied/studies the RNA for various flu viruses and those in his field discovered that you tend to 'imprint' on the first flu you have, typically when you're a little kid, and even when stimulated by another flu, say in a flu shot, your body goes "Oh, this again" and makes mostly antibodies to that original flu.
So Ken will have one flavor of immunity, and I'll have another - I was likely imprinted on the Hong Kong flu of 1968-70 as I remember being terribly sick, along with my Mom, in that time frame. And I mean sick - dim memories of worries about us dying (probably Mom's histrionics) and being just out for days or a week or more, and someone worrying about us and my being given some kind of peppery vegetable soup and my first encounter with the concept of cooked celery.
So, why did oldsters fare so well in the 1918 flu? There was "the great zoonotic" of 1873, which sickened and killed horses to the extend that the cavalry and Apaches fought each other on foot, and teams of young men pulled street cars. Lo and behold, about 43 years later, the "Spanish" flu comes through and people over 50 are faring better than they did under the usual flu. The "cytokine storm" theory I'd heard for years turns out to not be applicable.
So I woke up at 4:30 today because why not, the whole point is to wait out this thing. I packed a few small things and had my coffee and chocolate, and headed out of here at about 6:30.
Now, this is pushing things as any time after dusk is sort of "bum time" and it's acknowledged that the squares, the workers, have left for the day and now the streets "belong" to the bums. So I felt it was risky, but there are hardly any bums out. What few bums I could tell were around, are hunkered down in their bum vehicles, and I guess withdrawn further back into their bum camps.
The post office was routine, as the mail chute was working. Next was H Mart, and it was much, much more calm and quiet than a regular Saturday. Tons of things are gone like eggs, but tons of things were still there. I got broccoli and garlic (at 2X the normal price) and another pack of butane for my butane stove, their last can of Nissui canned mackerel in oil, and a package of chashu kamaboko for a treat. The fish etc., were all well stocked and except for the lack of eggs, cup noodles of various types, and toilet paper, you'd almost think things are normal.
I wore the cloth mask I'd bought at H Mart just before the panic, and it fits really nicely. I wish I'd bought a couple of them, one to wear and one to wash, but even having the one is great. As masks go, it fits well and is comfortable.
As I left I thought about how much I'm substituting Windex for rubbing alcohol which can't be obtained, and went over to Lowe's for another gallon of Windex. Here I was really risking it because it was getting into dusk and there are a lot of bums on the road leading into there, but I encountered no bums and where there's usually an encampment I have to veer around, there's a fence put up and big boulders where the camp was.
I was able to get my gallon of Windex and got some AA and AAA lithium batteries so I've got batteries for the foreseeable future. Again it was really calm and quiet, with very few customers.
I rode over by the electrical supply and there was a bum pulling/pushing a bum cart down Brokaw street, but I was able to get some foam pieces for packing from Sanmina, then vectored outta there directly away from the bum cart because I don't know where the bum went - don't want to get jumped.
I rode back here and again, boring, boring, boring. I thought traffic was sparse the last time I was out, but it's really dead now. 95% of people gone to 99% of people gone.
While doing listings, I listened to some lectures as I often do on YouTube, and one was great - a guy studied/studies the RNA for various flu viruses and those in his field discovered that you tend to 'imprint' on the first flu you have, typically when you're a little kid, and even when stimulated by another flu, say in a flu shot, your body goes "Oh, this again" and makes mostly antibodies to that original flu.
So Ken will have one flavor of immunity, and I'll have another - I was likely imprinted on the Hong Kong flu of 1968-70 as I remember being terribly sick, along with my Mom, in that time frame. And I mean sick - dim memories of worries about us dying (probably Mom's histrionics) and being just out for days or a week or more, and someone worrying about us and my being given some kind of peppery vegetable soup and my first encounter with the concept of cooked celery.
So, why did oldsters fare so well in the 1918 flu? There was "the great zoonotic" of 1873, which sickened and killed horses to the extend that the cavalry and Apaches fought each other on foot, and teams of young men pulled street cars. Lo and behold, about 43 years later, the "Spanish" flu comes through and people over 50 are faring better than they did under the usual flu. The "cytokine storm" theory I'd heard for years turns out to not be applicable.
So I woke up at 4:30 today because why not, the whole point is to wait out this thing. I packed a few small things and had my coffee and chocolate, and headed out of here at about 6:30.
Now, this is pushing things as any time after dusk is sort of "bum time" and it's acknowledged that the squares, the workers, have left for the day and now the streets "belong" to the bums. So I felt it was risky, but there are hardly any bums out. What few bums I could tell were around, are hunkered down in their bum vehicles, and I guess withdrawn further back into their bum camps.
The post office was routine, as the mail chute was working. Next was H Mart, and it was much, much more calm and quiet than a regular Saturday. Tons of things are gone like eggs, but tons of things were still there. I got broccoli and garlic (at 2X the normal price) and another pack of butane for my butane stove, their last can of Nissui canned mackerel in oil, and a package of chashu kamaboko for a treat. The fish etc., were all well stocked and except for the lack of eggs, cup noodles of various types, and toilet paper, you'd almost think things are normal.
I wore the cloth mask I'd bought at H Mart just before the panic, and it fits really nicely. I wish I'd bought a couple of them, one to wear and one to wash, but even having the one is great. As masks go, it fits well and is comfortable.
As I left I thought about how much I'm substituting Windex for rubbing alcohol which can't be obtained, and went over to Lowe's for another gallon of Windex. Here I was really risking it because it was getting into dusk and there are a lot of bums on the road leading into there, but I encountered no bums and where there's usually an encampment I have to veer around, there's a fence put up and big boulders where the camp was.
I was able to get my gallon of Windex and got some AA and AAA lithium batteries so I've got batteries for the foreseeable future. Again it was really calm and quiet, with very few customers.
I rode over by the electrical supply and there was a bum pulling/pushing a bum cart down Brokaw street, but I was able to get some foam pieces for packing from Sanmina, then vectored outta there directly away from the bum cart because I don't know where the bum went - don't want to get jumped.
I rode back here and again, boring, boring, boring. I thought traffic was sparse the last time I was out, but it's really dead now. 95% of people gone to 99% of people gone.
Friday, March 20, 2020
A nice gloomy Friday
Awake at noon, which is kind of surprising since after taking that stuff apart and having a coffee, I watched some videos while I got some practice in. It's working, too. I'm getting better at playing up to high C and even above.
Last night I watched the scrap metal I left out and one of the local bums, a guy who rides around with a reflective vest and blinking lights on his bike, unusual for a bum, came by, checked it out, then sped away. Shortly he returned with a different bike with a trailer, and loaded it all in and took off. It was at least 100 lbs.
So I got up, packed some packages to take to the post office, had my coffee and chocolate, and took off for downtown at about 3:30. Ms. Crackhead was right there, messing around with her junk cars, but at least didn't try saying Hi or anything.
There's very very little traffic. It's like early Sunday morning after some big event that would have most people sleeping in. There were only a couple other customers at the downtown post office besides myself, and all the packages fit in the chute. Also, I didn't take my bike in so they didn't have that to get annoyed about. In fact, there was another bike parked at the rack in such a way that I could not lock my bike to the rack without touching it, so I put my bike next to the rack and just "locked it to itself" - it's not like there were any people around to notice anyway.
Next was the bank, and they're letting in one person at a time so I had to wait by the door then the guy let me in after trying to talk me into doing my deposit using the ATM. I might want to look into doing it that way, though. Or I might save up 2 checks and only go every other week or something. But I got my deposit done.
I rode over to Whole Foods and locked the bike there, and walked up to CVS. Of course they didn't have rubbing alcohol or Cloraseptic, but I did find some of their brand of "tussin" cough syrup which I've found useful when I was really crudded up, got a tube of Blistex, and some other thing. I looked long and hard at the booze aisle which is somewhat depleted but I noticed a lot of the cheap plastic-bottle "whiskey", "gin" etc. still there so if anyone's stocking up on booze, they're keeping up with it.
I went into the hardware store and got a gallon of Simple Green, which is the way I normally buy it anyway. There were two jugs left and I got one. I'd have gotten some batteries too but their battery prices are nuts.
I took the stuff back and stashed it and went into Whole Foods and got walnuts, the last bag of 100% cacao chocolate chips, and a couple little cartons of creamer, and $100 cash back.
It was really dead downtown with just about zero homeless/beggars/bums around, I wonder where they've gone? With so few people around I can see why they'd not waste their time begging, but I saw none of the regulars and the couple marginal looking people around were new ones to me. As I'd gone into CVS a guy with tattoos all over his face came swooping around on a fixie bike with a radio on it playing a song by a band called The Cranberries that I used to hear a ton in the 90s, and I remarked on it. It wasn't the original though, but a cover by another, guy, singer. He said the gal who sang it originally, died, and that's why there's a "tribute" version out now. He went into CVS also as we got in a conversation about Doc Martens shoes, and I told him the best place to find them is a used clothes place called Black & Brown. He thanked me for that. Maybe he's a trust-funder or maybe he lives in a culvert, but it was a nice bit of talking with someone.
I rode back along Santa Clara and just where I turn onto 3rd, there was a busker there with a boom box playing The Beatles and he was very basically drumming along with a pair of drum sticks on the sidewalk. Never seen him before.
After I passed Japantown I jogged over to 4th and stopped in at the O'Reilley's auto parts and got a couple rolls of shop towels and a little bottle of HEET which is methanol, for cleaning things. The place almost looked closed, with no cars around and I had to go up to the door to see that it was open, and another bicyclist stopped in also. It was a real ghost town.
When I pulled into this complex, loaded down with groceries and one hand on the handlebars and one holding a box from Rev-A-Shelf that's a useful size, I noticed that Ms. Crackhead has moved her junk cars to the front of the complex for some reason. Good.
I got back here and put things away, and found the three pieces of lab equipment an Ebay buyer was coming over to buy, and in fact presently he came by, and picked the pieces up. That was easy.
Last night I watched the scrap metal I left out and one of the local bums, a guy who rides around with a reflective vest and blinking lights on his bike, unusual for a bum, came by, checked it out, then sped away. Shortly he returned with a different bike with a trailer, and loaded it all in and took off. It was at least 100 lbs.
So I got up, packed some packages to take to the post office, had my coffee and chocolate, and took off for downtown at about 3:30. Ms. Crackhead was right there, messing around with her junk cars, but at least didn't try saying Hi or anything.
There's very very little traffic. It's like early Sunday morning after some big event that would have most people sleeping in. There were only a couple other customers at the downtown post office besides myself, and all the packages fit in the chute. Also, I didn't take my bike in so they didn't have that to get annoyed about. In fact, there was another bike parked at the rack in such a way that I could not lock my bike to the rack without touching it, so I put my bike next to the rack and just "locked it to itself" - it's not like there were any people around to notice anyway.
Next was the bank, and they're letting in one person at a time so I had to wait by the door then the guy let me in after trying to talk me into doing my deposit using the ATM. I might want to look into doing it that way, though. Or I might save up 2 checks and only go every other week or something. But I got my deposit done.
I rode over to Whole Foods and locked the bike there, and walked up to CVS. Of course they didn't have rubbing alcohol or Cloraseptic, but I did find some of their brand of "tussin" cough syrup which I've found useful when I was really crudded up, got a tube of Blistex, and some other thing. I looked long and hard at the booze aisle which is somewhat depleted but I noticed a lot of the cheap plastic-bottle "whiskey", "gin" etc. still there so if anyone's stocking up on booze, they're keeping up with it.
I went into the hardware store and got a gallon of Simple Green, which is the way I normally buy it anyway. There were two jugs left and I got one. I'd have gotten some batteries too but their battery prices are nuts.
I took the stuff back and stashed it and went into Whole Foods and got walnuts, the last bag of 100% cacao chocolate chips, and a couple little cartons of creamer, and $100 cash back.
It was really dead downtown with just about zero homeless/beggars/bums around, I wonder where they've gone? With so few people around I can see why they'd not waste their time begging, but I saw none of the regulars and the couple marginal looking people around were new ones to me. As I'd gone into CVS a guy with tattoos all over his face came swooping around on a fixie bike with a radio on it playing a song by a band called The Cranberries that I used to hear a ton in the 90s, and I remarked on it. It wasn't the original though, but a cover by another, guy, singer. He said the gal who sang it originally, died, and that's why there's a "tribute" version out now. He went into CVS also as we got in a conversation about Doc Martens shoes, and I told him the best place to find them is a used clothes place called Black & Brown. He thanked me for that. Maybe he's a trust-funder or maybe he lives in a culvert, but it was a nice bit of talking with someone.
I rode back along Santa Clara and just where I turn onto 3rd, there was a busker there with a boom box playing The Beatles and he was very basically drumming along with a pair of drum sticks on the sidewalk. Never seen him before.
After I passed Japantown I jogged over to 4th and stopped in at the O'Reilley's auto parts and got a couple rolls of shop towels and a little bottle of HEET which is methanol, for cleaning things. The place almost looked closed, with no cars around and I had to go up to the door to see that it was open, and another bicyclist stopped in also. It was a real ghost town.
When I pulled into this complex, loaded down with groceries and one hand on the handlebars and one holding a box from Rev-A-Shelf that's a useful size, I noticed that Ms. Crackhead has moved her junk cars to the front of the complex for some reason. Good.
I got back here and put things away, and found the three pieces of lab equipment an Ebay buyer was coming over to buy, and in fact presently he came by, and picked the pieces up. That was easy.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
I venture out a bit
I was awake around noon and up out of bed at 2, and had a bunch of stuff packed for the post office and FedEx.
My "new neighbor" is, I believe, no other than local character "Crazy Chrissy" and when you have "Crazy" before your name as a sort of honorific, you have reached the pinnacle of bum-dom. She's got her two junk cars parked just about directly across from here and is up most of the night doing stupid meth-head stuff like re-arranging a tarp (and never getting it right) for hours on end.
Regardless of Ms. Crackhead, I practiced last night. Someday, some year, busking may come back and I want to be competent.
I left here at about 4 with my boxes and packages, and went first to the post office. They're keeping their hours the same as always. Next stop was FedEx where I was going to drop off my 3 boxes, then leave the bike there while I shopped at H Mart. That is now out of the question - the whole side of the place with the copiers is closed, and I can't keep my bike there. They're also only open for about 3 hours a day, from 3-6, and I think 3-4 on Saturday, and not on Sunday at all.
So I rode over to Nijiya because I thought, well, I'll ride back to the shop and drop off the trailer and then I'll wonder if I should just go to Nijiya instead of back to H Mart, so why not ride on over? A barbershop I used to go to on Hedding is still open but two others near there are closed. Hmm. Over at Nijiya the eggs were all gone, and I got some other things and some cash back, and then stopped by Minato's for that order of tempura I was going to get the other day but didn't because it was too cold and rainy.
So I got my delicious tempura, and got back here and unloaded everything, and ate the tempura; theirs is really good, even better than Suehiro's back in old Honolulu.
I decided I'd do a trash run and go to H Mart after all, so I bagged up my trash and took off, dropped the trash off and locked up the bike (can't lock it with the trailer as it's large and bulky and besides the bums will just steal the trailer) and got a few things. There were two packages of eggs left in the whole store with a limit of one, and I got one. And I got other odds and ends including a tea pot I can use to heat water on my butane stove in case the electricity goes out or I just want to bring the electric bill down for Ken.
I looked a bit for boxes and stuff on the way back but didn't find anything. Things are really quiet and just about all businesses are closed.
I ended up putzing around taking a couple of large pieces of equipment apart for the parts, and that kept me busy until almost 4AM. I put the parts out for the scavengers and at least have some parts to list now. And people continue to buy oddball things (a panel meter, an old catalogue extolling the virtues of iridium, some IC's in a tube, a manual for a now obscure old CPU) so I'll have some things to take with me tomorrow.
My "new neighbor" is, I believe, no other than local character "Crazy Chrissy" and when you have "Crazy" before your name as a sort of honorific, you have reached the pinnacle of bum-dom. She's got her two junk cars parked just about directly across from here and is up most of the night doing stupid meth-head stuff like re-arranging a tarp (and never getting it right) for hours on end.
Regardless of Ms. Crackhead, I practiced last night. Someday, some year, busking may come back and I want to be competent.
I left here at about 4 with my boxes and packages, and went first to the post office. They're keeping their hours the same as always. Next stop was FedEx where I was going to drop off my 3 boxes, then leave the bike there while I shopped at H Mart. That is now out of the question - the whole side of the place with the copiers is closed, and I can't keep my bike there. They're also only open for about 3 hours a day, from 3-6, and I think 3-4 on Saturday, and not on Sunday at all.
So I rode over to Nijiya because I thought, well, I'll ride back to the shop and drop off the trailer and then I'll wonder if I should just go to Nijiya instead of back to H Mart, so why not ride on over? A barbershop I used to go to on Hedding is still open but two others near there are closed. Hmm. Over at Nijiya the eggs were all gone, and I got some other things and some cash back, and then stopped by Minato's for that order of tempura I was going to get the other day but didn't because it was too cold and rainy.
So I got my delicious tempura, and got back here and unloaded everything, and ate the tempura; theirs is really good, even better than Suehiro's back in old Honolulu.
I decided I'd do a trash run and go to H Mart after all, so I bagged up my trash and took off, dropped the trash off and locked up the bike (can't lock it with the trailer as it's large and bulky and besides the bums will just steal the trailer) and got a few things. There were two packages of eggs left in the whole store with a limit of one, and I got one. And I got other odds and ends including a tea pot I can use to heat water on my butane stove in case the electricity goes out or I just want to bring the electric bill down for Ken.
I looked a bit for boxes and stuff on the way back but didn't find anything. Things are really quiet and just about all businesses are closed.
I ended up putzing around taking a couple of large pieces of equipment apart for the parts, and that kept me busy until almost 4AM. I put the parts out for the scavengers and at least have some parts to list now. And people continue to buy oddball things (a panel meter, an old catalogue extolling the virtues of iridium, some IC's in a tube, a manual for a now obscure old CPU) so I'll have some things to take with me tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 17, 2020
First shutdown day
I stayed in, and slept in until about 5. I didn't practice last night either.
So far it's really quiet, with nothing on Reddit about cops hassling people for being out, but all the same, I plan to go out tomorrow to the tune of going to the post office and picking up a few things at H Mart, and maybe Lowe's then getting right back in.
Then it'll be another day inside then on Friday I'll visit my bank and put my pay check in, see if I can find a haircut somewhere, and get a few things at Whole Foods. Then it's in for the weekend. It might be a rainy weekend anyway.
So far it's really quiet, with nothing on Reddit about cops hassling people for being out, but all the same, I plan to go out tomorrow to the tune of going to the post office and picking up a few things at H Mart, and maybe Lowe's then getting right back in.
Then it'll be another day inside then on Friday I'll visit my bank and put my pay check in, see if I can find a haircut somewhere, and get a few things at Whole Foods. Then it's in for the weekend. It might be a rainy weekend anyway.
Monday, March 16, 2020
A not misplaced sense of dread
I practiced last night, and initially was frustrated, not being able to go above C in the staff. First off I was able to play crazy high notes, then it shut off, then I put the trumpet away and started to watch a movie, then got the trumpet out again and noodled around while watching the movie which got me properly warmed up I guess, and I was able to play high notes well (at least well for me).
The lesson is: Warm up properly before expecting things, and at Herbert C. Clarke would say, have faith in yourself!
I woke up a bit after noon, and finally got up about 2. There's a guy who's supposed to pick up a UV illuminator he bought on Ebay, so I'm surprised I didn't get awakened by a call from him.
So I got up with the requisite amount of dread, and sure enough, we're going into some kind of shutdown, not a full-on "your papers please" curfew, but shutdown mode for the next 23 days.
I had my chicory coffee and chocolate and packed a couple more things that had just sold, and rode up to the post office and dropped things off. Then I went by 99 Ranch and it looked like it would be a mad house so I skipped that and went to H Mart where I picked up odds and ends like some celery, sunflower seeds, cooking oil, another large bottle of Coke Zero to add to the two I already have because if I get sick it will be nice to have, and two more bottles of $10 "Chinese Lightning". The wait was easily a half hour, maybe longer.
I got back here and put things away and loaded up my laundry and took off for the laundromat, in the rain. I stopped by Nijiya thinking I'd get some snack there, but the snacks were all gone and the tables and chairs out front were taped off. Also they close at 7 now so I'm glad I stopped by then and not on the way back. I got lime juice and various other odds and ends, including some rather expensive sliced Swiss cheese, and drank a canned cafe au lait out front. I wanted to get "C" batteries for my little emergency radio but they were out - I'm not sure if I have spares or not but in a real pinch it's got a crank.
I made my drippy way to the laundromat and got my clothes washed and drank a Diet Pepsi while I read more of The Anatomy Of Paradise. It's an amazing book, with references to a lifetime's worth of other reading. And to think it was a $1.50 Goodwill special. I need to go back by there and look for more books. I had a few slices of the cheese too.
Laundry done, I rode back slowly, as my bike doesn't have fenders. It's pretty raw and cold out there. I got back, put things away, hung up the laundry, put the foodstuffs away, etc.
The lesson is: Warm up properly before expecting things, and at Herbert C. Clarke would say, have faith in yourself!
I woke up a bit after noon, and finally got up about 2. There's a guy who's supposed to pick up a UV illuminator he bought on Ebay, so I'm surprised I didn't get awakened by a call from him.
So I got up with the requisite amount of dread, and sure enough, we're going into some kind of shutdown, not a full-on "your papers please" curfew, but shutdown mode for the next 23 days.
I had my chicory coffee and chocolate and packed a couple more things that had just sold, and rode up to the post office and dropped things off. Then I went by 99 Ranch and it looked like it would be a mad house so I skipped that and went to H Mart where I picked up odds and ends like some celery, sunflower seeds, cooking oil, another large bottle of Coke Zero to add to the two I already have because if I get sick it will be nice to have, and two more bottles of $10 "Chinese Lightning". The wait was easily a half hour, maybe longer.
I got back here and put things away and loaded up my laundry and took off for the laundromat, in the rain. I stopped by Nijiya thinking I'd get some snack there, but the snacks were all gone and the tables and chairs out front were taped off. Also they close at 7 now so I'm glad I stopped by then and not on the way back. I got lime juice and various other odds and ends, including some rather expensive sliced Swiss cheese, and drank a canned cafe au lait out front. I wanted to get "C" batteries for my little emergency radio but they were out - I'm not sure if I have spares or not but in a real pinch it's got a crank.
I made my drippy way to the laundromat and got my clothes washed and drank a Diet Pepsi while I read more of The Anatomy Of Paradise. It's an amazing book, with references to a lifetime's worth of other reading. And to think it was a $1.50 Goodwill special. I need to go back by there and look for more books. I had a few slices of the cheese too.
Laundry done, I rode back slowly, as my bike doesn't have fenders. It's pretty raw and cold out there. I got back, put things away, hung up the laundry, put the foodstuffs away, etc.
Sunday, March 15, 2020
Rainy rainy rain
Up at 3 in the afternoon. I didn't practice last night because the new "neighbor", a large (not fat just tall etc.) lady had moved one of her junk cars right across from here and worked on it all night, in the rain. Meth or crack heads will do things like that.
Instead I took a couple of things apart and listed the parts on Ebay.
I'm listening to "How I Built This" on NPR and they're featuring Michael Dell, and I'm interested as I'm a bit of a Dell loyalist. The guy started as a kid selling stamps and coins and stuff, then sold newspaper subscriptions and figured out that (a) people getting married really liked to get newspaper subscriptions and (b) in the state of Texas where he was, couples getting married had to put all their personal information into the public register. He used this to set up a large direct-mail campaign. The addresses were typed out on Apple II's, and then the IBM PC came out so he started a business installing hard drives, which they didn't come with, into them and it just built from there.
But the pattern was set when he was 10 or 12 years old and messing around with stamps and coins.
So I wonder about myself and what this tells me. I was essentially raised to be an artist. My parents had no idea of how to actually raise a kid to be an artist, but I always had however many crappy "Academe" drawing pads and horrible sets of oil pastels I wanted. When I got older it was oil paints, an airbrush, and I always had Rapidograph pens. The airbrush was the kind used for putting very basic coloring on cakes, not find work. And as for the Rapidograph, they're horrible pens for anything but what they're intended for, drafting, and mine always leaked. I'd be drawing along and "BLOP" it'd belch ink all over my drawing.
But in spite of all that, I really did make progress toward becoming "an artist". It surprised the hell out of everyone when instead of going on to be "an artist" I got regular type jobs. I think I'd fallen hook line and sinker for Capitalism's usual line of bullshit: Go to college if you can, work hard, don't be a stand-out or an oddball, and you'll be rewarded with a split-level ranch house and a station wagon and a retirement plan. Going from middle-class to very poor made for a hell of a childhood, and maybe I thought if I was nice and "regular" I could obtain for myself, and maybe my siblings if they needed a hand, the life we'd lost.
Instead even people who did everything by the book are ending up super poor, I've ended up pretty poor, everyone's ended up very poor except for a very few and they did it by never being poor in the first place. If your family didn't make it for you 50+ years ago, forget it.
It's become a "Versailles" culture with a few rich living in opulence, a shrinking middle class and craftsman class, and an increasing army of abjectly poor. As I've said to several people, ambition is a curse in a society with no social mobility. It just becomes a question of what you want to be poor doing. Think of the choices! I could work my ass off for a few years to buy a pedi-cab and be an aged pedi-cab pusher. I could go wash dishes somewhere. I could go back to panhandling. I could snag one of the three electronics tech jobs available here in Silicon Valley, and work for minimum wage, half-time. That's essentially what I do now in that I use my electronics knowledge a bit.
But getting back to Michael Dell, he established a pattern pretty early on and then just built on it.
Instead I took a couple of things apart and listed the parts on Ebay.
I'm listening to "How I Built This" on NPR and they're featuring Michael Dell, and I'm interested as I'm a bit of a Dell loyalist. The guy started as a kid selling stamps and coins and stuff, then sold newspaper subscriptions and figured out that (a) people getting married really liked to get newspaper subscriptions and (b) in the state of Texas where he was, couples getting married had to put all their personal information into the public register. He used this to set up a large direct-mail campaign. The addresses were typed out on Apple II's, and then the IBM PC came out so he started a business installing hard drives, which they didn't come with, into them and it just built from there.
But the pattern was set when he was 10 or 12 years old and messing around with stamps and coins.
So I wonder about myself and what this tells me. I was essentially raised to be an artist. My parents had no idea of how to actually raise a kid to be an artist, but I always had however many crappy "Academe" drawing pads and horrible sets of oil pastels I wanted. When I got older it was oil paints, an airbrush, and I always had Rapidograph pens. The airbrush was the kind used for putting very basic coloring on cakes, not find work. And as for the Rapidograph, they're horrible pens for anything but what they're intended for, drafting, and mine always leaked. I'd be drawing along and "BLOP" it'd belch ink all over my drawing.
But in spite of all that, I really did make progress toward becoming "an artist". It surprised the hell out of everyone when instead of going on to be "an artist" I got regular type jobs. I think I'd fallen hook line and sinker for Capitalism's usual line of bullshit: Go to college if you can, work hard, don't be a stand-out or an oddball, and you'll be rewarded with a split-level ranch house and a station wagon and a retirement plan. Going from middle-class to very poor made for a hell of a childhood, and maybe I thought if I was nice and "regular" I could obtain for myself, and maybe my siblings if they needed a hand, the life we'd lost.
Instead even people who did everything by the book are ending up super poor, I've ended up pretty poor, everyone's ended up very poor except for a very few and they did it by never being poor in the first place. If your family didn't make it for you 50+ years ago, forget it.
It's become a "Versailles" culture with a few rich living in opulence, a shrinking middle class and craftsman class, and an increasing army of abjectly poor. As I've said to several people, ambition is a curse in a society with no social mobility. It just becomes a question of what you want to be poor doing. Think of the choices! I could work my ass off for a few years to buy a pedi-cab and be an aged pedi-cab pusher. I could go wash dishes somewhere. I could go back to panhandling. I could snag one of the three electronics tech jobs available here in Silicon Valley, and work for minimum wage, half-time. That's essentially what I do now in that I use my electronics knowledge a bit.
But getting back to Michael Dell, he established a pattern pretty early on and then just built on it.
Saturday, March 14, 2020
A good rinse, and new neighbor
I practiced last night of course, a bit more than an hour. The Irons book I just got is like the exercises I set up for myself but more thought-out.
I slept in until 5:30, and when I got up it was raining heavily, and there are two junk cars, one with Bondo all down one side and one with a primer-grey hood, with a guy(?) messing around with tarps over one. They're parked across from the welding place that's a couple of doors down so they're probably OK until Monday when the welding place opens then they might have to move on.
It's weird because there are tons of places to camp out around here, yet our parking lot seems to hold a certain attraction.
If the rain lets up tomorrow, I'll try to go out and explore a bit. I've been buying what I normally use and eat, and I suppose tomorrow it may be wise to ... go out and buy more of what I use and eat. I can't go wrong with more canned butter, fish, etc.
I've been working my way through a book called "Anatomy Of Paradise" an interesting book, going through editions from 1937 to 1947. The author earnestly debunks all the stupid trains of thought that are so prevalent back in Hawaii, about how noble and great pre-contact Pacific peoples were etc.
I don't expect things to get to the stage of having no power or internet, so there's tons to read of these older books that are free online. This book would not be, but anything prior to 1920 is now copyright-free and can be read.
I slept in until 5:30, and when I got up it was raining heavily, and there are two junk cars, one with Bondo all down one side and one with a primer-grey hood, with a guy(?) messing around with tarps over one. They're parked across from the welding place that's a couple of doors down so they're probably OK until Monday when the welding place opens then they might have to move on.
It's weird because there are tons of places to camp out around here, yet our parking lot seems to hold a certain attraction.
If the rain lets up tomorrow, I'll try to go out and explore a bit. I've been buying what I normally use and eat, and I suppose tomorrow it may be wise to ... go out and buy more of what I use and eat. I can't go wrong with more canned butter, fish, etc.
I've been working my way through a book called "Anatomy Of Paradise" an interesting book, going through editions from 1937 to 1947. The author earnestly debunks all the stupid trains of thought that are so prevalent back in Hawaii, about how noble and great pre-contact Pacific peoples were etc.
I don't expect things to get to the stage of having no power or internet, so there's tons to read of these older books that are free online. This book would not be, but anything prior to 1920 is now copyright-free and can be read.
Friday, March 13, 2020
Weird out there
I did some practice last night, not one of my most inspiring practices but the main thing is I did it.
I got up at a fairly decent time, packed some things to take to the post office, and got going. It's pretty calm out there as far as traffic goes, and at the main post office downtown there were 1-2 other customers besides myself.
I got over to the bank and put my pay check in. I was the only customer.
I went over to Target and the power was out and they were on emergency power. So there was lighting but it was dimmer than usual and people were still shopping. Tons of things were out from rubbing alcohol and even witch hazel to foot powder, the vitamins were pretty wiped out, etc. I walked back to where the TP and paper towels are, and the entire area was empty. I chatted a bit with a nice little old short lady who told me she'd been in Scotland during/after WWII and they had rationing, and I said about about the hungry times in the 70s and it'd take more than this to worry me. We had a good laugh. I ended up getting some coffee filters and a bottle of Target's copy of the original Listerine mouthwash, the kind that tastes awful, so if my Chloraseptic runs out and I can't replace it, I can put that stuff in the bottle and use it for throat spray.
I rode over to Whole Foods ... I should mention it was really windy and at times I was slowed to almost a walking pace by the wind. It might have been a good day for busking outside Whole Foods if I didn't have so many other things to do, but the wind would have blown things are just terribly and people don't like to take money out when it's windy - I know this from selling at flea markets.
I got a bottle each of the vitamins I take, some walnuts, and a couple of bags of the 100% chocolate chips I have 30 or so of with coffee in the morning. The lines were really long and it felt like half an hour waiting. I paid for my stuff and got $100 cash back too.
Next stop was the Vietnamese market where I got a couple of cans of chicory coffee, shallots, and a few other odds and ends. Again it was probably 20 minutes waiting in line.
I stopped by the Amazon pickup place where I got my copy of Irons' "Twenty-Seven Groups Of Exercises" for trumpet, plus plenty of empty Amazon bubble wrap bags for packing Ebay items.
Next was Nijiya for eggs and some instant coffee and "seasoned pepper" (a delicious mix of 1/3 salt, 1/3 pepper, and 1/3 MSG) and things like that I use, then I got back here.
There were so few people around that I guess the bums stood out more, as there's no day off if you're a bum. I fished out a dollar for a guy by Target, saying, "It's gotta be tough for you guys out here", and at Paseo de San Antonio I gave a gal a bag of cough drops and various workplace medical kit medicines I'd saved up to give away to someone. She hops trains a lot, and has been all over the US or at least coast to coast. She looked like a trainhopper too, with canvas pants and clodhopper shoes. It's got to be tough to be a bum right now, with every place so deserted, and I'm glad I don't have to count on busking.
I put stuff away and two more large things had sold on Ebay so I packed those and got out of here with the 3 boxes, an empty tomato box, and a bag of trash on the bike trailer. I dropped off the trash at one of "my" dumpsters, and took the packages up to FedEx, leaving the bike there.
I went into H Mart and bought a bunch of stuff. Some of the crazier things were a couple of packages of napkins in case I need them, two bottles of Chinese 120-proof white liquor, and a large Crunky bar because I've been laughing at the name Crunky for years and the way things are going, who knows, I might be looking at the last one I'll see so I should try one.
I rode back with my food and booze and napkins in the tomato box, and a bit cautious because it was now about 9PM and the only people out are bums. I stopped at the tire place and got 3 large wheel boxes I had to flatten to put on the trailer, and some bums came down the street and turned into the Fry's parking lot. They could have come over to hassle me, and I was glad I had the cardboard covering the food + booze.
I rode back here and got everything inside with a little haste, and am now all buttoned up for the night, the weekend, and if it doesn't dry out on Monday, a bit past the weekend. The Crunky bar is like a Nestle's Crunch with better chocolate. Pretty good, actually.
I got up at a fairly decent time, packed some things to take to the post office, and got going. It's pretty calm out there as far as traffic goes, and at the main post office downtown there were 1-2 other customers besides myself.
I got over to the bank and put my pay check in. I was the only customer.
I went over to Target and the power was out and they were on emergency power. So there was lighting but it was dimmer than usual and people were still shopping. Tons of things were out from rubbing alcohol and even witch hazel to foot powder, the vitamins were pretty wiped out, etc. I walked back to where the TP and paper towels are, and the entire area was empty. I chatted a bit with a nice little old short lady who told me she'd been in Scotland during/after WWII and they had rationing, and I said about about the hungry times in the 70s and it'd take more than this to worry me. We had a good laugh. I ended up getting some coffee filters and a bottle of Target's copy of the original Listerine mouthwash, the kind that tastes awful, so if my Chloraseptic runs out and I can't replace it, I can put that stuff in the bottle and use it for throat spray.
I rode over to Whole Foods ... I should mention it was really windy and at times I was slowed to almost a walking pace by the wind. It might have been a good day for busking outside Whole Foods if I didn't have so many other things to do, but the wind would have blown things are just terribly and people don't like to take money out when it's windy - I know this from selling at flea markets.
I got a bottle each of the vitamins I take, some walnuts, and a couple of bags of the 100% chocolate chips I have 30 or so of with coffee in the morning. The lines were really long and it felt like half an hour waiting. I paid for my stuff and got $100 cash back too.
Next stop was the Vietnamese market where I got a couple of cans of chicory coffee, shallots, and a few other odds and ends. Again it was probably 20 minutes waiting in line.
I stopped by the Amazon pickup place where I got my copy of Irons' "Twenty-Seven Groups Of Exercises" for trumpet, plus plenty of empty Amazon bubble wrap bags for packing Ebay items.
Next was Nijiya for eggs and some instant coffee and "seasoned pepper" (a delicious mix of 1/3 salt, 1/3 pepper, and 1/3 MSG) and things like that I use, then I got back here.
There were so few people around that I guess the bums stood out more, as there's no day off if you're a bum. I fished out a dollar for a guy by Target, saying, "It's gotta be tough for you guys out here", and at Paseo de San Antonio I gave a gal a bag of cough drops and various workplace medical kit medicines I'd saved up to give away to someone. She hops trains a lot, and has been all over the US or at least coast to coast. She looked like a trainhopper too, with canvas pants and clodhopper shoes. It's got to be tough to be a bum right now, with every place so deserted, and I'm glad I don't have to count on busking.
I put stuff away and two more large things had sold on Ebay so I packed those and got out of here with the 3 boxes, an empty tomato box, and a bag of trash on the bike trailer. I dropped off the trash at one of "my" dumpsters, and took the packages up to FedEx, leaving the bike there.
I went into H Mart and bought a bunch of stuff. Some of the crazier things were a couple of packages of napkins in case I need them, two bottles of Chinese 120-proof white liquor, and a large Crunky bar because I've been laughing at the name Crunky for years and the way things are going, who knows, I might be looking at the last one I'll see so I should try one.
I rode back with my food and booze and napkins in the tomato box, and a bit cautious because it was now about 9PM and the only people out are bums. I stopped at the tire place and got 3 large wheel boxes I had to flatten to put on the trailer, and some bums came down the street and turned into the Fry's parking lot. They could have come over to hassle me, and I was glad I had the cardboard covering the food + booze.
I rode back here and got everything inside with a little haste, and am now all buttoned up for the night, the weekend, and if it doesn't dry out on Monday, a bit past the weekend. The Crunky bar is like a Nestle's Crunch with better chocolate. Pretty good, actually.
Thursday, March 12, 2020
Pronger-Ball
I remember the old "Pronger-Ball" T-shirts being sold in such astute periodicals as The National Lampoon. It has a cute cartoon of a virus complete with smile and googly eyes, and "I'd Rather Wear It Than Have It" in the same goofy font used by Radio Shack for their "Fun With Electronics" mini-magazine. I guess if I found some old National Lampoons I might find the old artwork ...
So things are pretty shut down. Traffic last night was like Sunday late morning. I have to make a mail or FedEx run (or both) just about daily so I'm getting out there.
I've been getting my practice in too, and the double buzz is almost completely gone and high C's are getting easier. I'm hacking away on my latest exercise, #47 in Clarke's Elementary Studies, which is just a weird tune. Thank goodness for "Trumpeter's Stuff" on YouTube which has all these exercise books played out, so students like me can hear how it's supposed to go.
I get discouraged by how many good players there are out there, and at what a high level even high schoolers in Texas are playing, but then I remind myself that the busking standard is really low. I mean, really, really, low. Street Musician Daniel talked about a trumpeter who "looks like an astronaut or a test pilot" simply because he's neat and clean and gets regular hair cuts, and cleans up playing things like "Eentsy-Weentsy Spider" for the families with kids. It's been a few years and he probably owns a house now.
Ken was over a couple of days ago and I told him about this, about how busking could well prove to be a very solid living in New Orleans and even here, if things go really badly, I could still do some work like the packing/shipping to pay for my living here, and go out and busk for my living money. If things got that bad, Ken would be here working more. I'd just make the loft into more of my "inner sanctum" and we'd get along fine. We have for years.
I stayed in bed late and finished the Louis Armstrong book. It's quite good and puts in details that are not in other books I've read about him. It was written in 1980 or 1981, and is another example of how the latest stuff is more dumbed-down than older stuff.
During a pandemic is not an ideal time to be out busking, so I guess I'm off of it for another month.
So things are pretty shut down. Traffic last night was like Sunday late morning. I have to make a mail or FedEx run (or both) just about daily so I'm getting out there.
I've been getting my practice in too, and the double buzz is almost completely gone and high C's are getting easier. I'm hacking away on my latest exercise, #47 in Clarke's Elementary Studies, which is just a weird tune. Thank goodness for "Trumpeter's Stuff" on YouTube which has all these exercise books played out, so students like me can hear how it's supposed to go.
I get discouraged by how many good players there are out there, and at what a high level even high schoolers in Texas are playing, but then I remind myself that the busking standard is really low. I mean, really, really, low. Street Musician Daniel talked about a trumpeter who "looks like an astronaut or a test pilot" simply because he's neat and clean and gets regular hair cuts, and cleans up playing things like "Eentsy-Weentsy Spider" for the families with kids. It's been a few years and he probably owns a house now.
Ken was over a couple of days ago and I told him about this, about how busking could well prove to be a very solid living in New Orleans and even here, if things go really badly, I could still do some work like the packing/shipping to pay for my living here, and go out and busk for my living money. If things got that bad, Ken would be here working more. I'd just make the loft into more of my "inner sanctum" and we'd get along fine. We have for years.
I stayed in bed late and finished the Louis Armstrong book. It's quite good and puts in details that are not in other books I've read about him. It was written in 1980 or 1981, and is another example of how the latest stuff is more dumbed-down than older stuff.
During a pandemic is not an ideal time to be out busking, so I guess I'm off of it for another month.
Saturday, March 7, 2020
A decent practice and rain
Practice went pretty well last night. Worked on #48 in the Clarke Elementary Studies book plus stuff I'd mess with if I were out busking. Close to two hours of practice because it was two episodes of Treme.
I'm not sure if that show is considered "real" or not. They have some real people in it like Doreen the Clarinet Queen, Kermit Ruffins, and I believe Little Calliope is a real guy. But that one guy, "DJ Davis" is really, really annoying. All in all a great series though and well worth buying on DVD as the internet slows down and less and less things are accessible.
I read more in the Armstrong book before bed and when I woke up, it was raining. Yay!
I'm not sure if that show is considered "real" or not. They have some real people in it like Doreen the Clarinet Queen, Kermit Ruffins, and I believe Little Calliope is a real guy. But that one guy, "DJ Davis" is really, really annoying. All in all a great series though and well worth buying on DVD as the internet slows down and less and less things are accessible.
I read more in the Armstrong book before bed and when I woke up, it was raining. Yay!
Friday, March 6, 2020
A Sore Start
I'm sore from exercise yesterday but that's just tough. I'll have to get used to it. I played a bit more after doing Ebay stuff last night and I'll just have to play all I can and struggle through. If all I ever do is top out at high C that's fine with me. There's plenty that can be played in that range.
Instead of fitting practice around my Ebay work I think I might fit the Ebay work around my practice. After all, if things go to shit here (and I know how fast they can) it's the trumpet playing that will enable me to afford a storage unit, a bivy bag (sort of sleeping bag with a sort of cover, good for hiding in bushes) etc.
If things only go halfway to shit... for instance say Ken loses his job so he'll be around here doing this work and will probably only be able to "pay" me a free place to live in exchange for doing a few things here like maybe the packing for shipping, and I'll be out earning my money with my horn.
I've been feeling very discouraged. I've subscribed to a YouTube channel called "Trumpeter's Stuff" where the guy has all kinds of etude books played out and this one, No. 47 out of Clarke's Elementary Studies, has been kicking my ass. Well, hearing it played out is a Godsend for this lazy ear-player. Now that I have a feel for how it's supposed to go, it'll be a lot easier and I can put the right swing in it.
I'd been feeling very depressed and although I was up at 11AM, I didn't get out of bed until after noon, staying in my sleeping bag and reading more of the Louis Armstrong book. It's amazing how the different books about him cover different aspects. This one doesn't mention the Karnofskys at all. But it mentions some very valuable musical and technique matters. Like the differences in technique between self-taught jazzers as the early ones almost all were, and how Armstrong very much showed school training.
I realized I needed to get rubbing alcohol which I use a fair amount of around here, so I took a load of stuff to FedEx and the post office, and then got over to Target as it was getting dark and they were completely out.
Not having had anything to eat but my beloved chicory coffee and chocolate, I went to Whole Foods next and got some "shepherd's pie" and pot roast from the buffet and ate, then walked up to CVS to find they're out of rubbing alcohol, too. Looks like I'll be washing all my dishes with soap and water and doing my wiping with Windex, as rubbing alcohol, antibacterial wipes, and I think bleach, have all been bought out.
I actually considered doing some busking tonight but it turned cold and windy and would have been rather miserable out there.
Instead of fitting practice around my Ebay work I think I might fit the Ebay work around my practice. After all, if things go to shit here (and I know how fast they can) it's the trumpet playing that will enable me to afford a storage unit, a bivy bag (sort of sleeping bag with a sort of cover, good for hiding in bushes) etc.
If things only go halfway to shit... for instance say Ken loses his job so he'll be around here doing this work and will probably only be able to "pay" me a free place to live in exchange for doing a few things here like maybe the packing for shipping, and I'll be out earning my money with my horn.
I've been feeling very discouraged. I've subscribed to a YouTube channel called "Trumpeter's Stuff" where the guy has all kinds of etude books played out and this one, No. 47 out of Clarke's Elementary Studies, has been kicking my ass. Well, hearing it played out is a Godsend for this lazy ear-player. Now that I have a feel for how it's supposed to go, it'll be a lot easier and I can put the right swing in it.
I'd been feeling very depressed and although I was up at 11AM, I didn't get out of bed until after noon, staying in my sleeping bag and reading more of the Louis Armstrong book. It's amazing how the different books about him cover different aspects. This one doesn't mention the Karnofskys at all. But it mentions some very valuable musical and technique matters. Like the differences in technique between self-taught jazzers as the early ones almost all were, and how Armstrong very much showed school training.
I realized I needed to get rubbing alcohol which I use a fair amount of around here, so I took a load of stuff to FedEx and the post office, and then got over to Target as it was getting dark and they were completely out.
Not having had anything to eat but my beloved chicory coffee and chocolate, I went to Whole Foods next and got some "shepherd's pie" and pot roast from the buffet and ate, then walked up to CVS to find they're out of rubbing alcohol, too. Looks like I'll be washing all my dishes with soap and water and doing my wiping with Windex, as rubbing alcohol, antibacterial wipes, and I think bleach, have all been bought out.
I actually considered doing some busking tonight but it turned cold and windy and would have been rather miserable out there.
Thursday, March 5, 2020
My Crappy Trumpet Practice
As I read the first part of the book about Louis Armstrong, I thought about why I could not get above the staff last night. First, from all the walking on election day, and some more yesterday, my midsection was a bit sore/tired. Then, before practice I'd a bag of the spicy fried fava beans I like, and some celery, and both are things that give a bloated feeling. The result was I noticed I could not, or sure didn't want, to use my midsection to support the kind of air needed for high notes.
I thought about this quite a bit, how Miles Davis did boxing training, and Doc. Severinson works out at the gym all the time, and even Anita O'Day used to train with a medicine ball to improve her singing ability. Louis Armstrong used to eat well, but hours before he went on stage, and one thing that probably helped him a lot was his years hauling coal. In the short film "Rhapsody In Black And Blue" his well-developed midsection can be seen.
So exercising consistently should help me to be able to play consistently.
I thought about this quite a bit, how Miles Davis did boxing training, and Doc. Severinson works out at the gym all the time, and even Anita O'Day used to train with a medicine ball to improve her singing ability. Louis Armstrong used to eat well, but hours before he went on stage, and one thing that probably helped him a lot was his years hauling coal. In the short film "Rhapsody In Black And Blue" his well-developed midsection can be seen.
So exercising consistently should help me to be able to play consistently.
Wednesday, March 4, 2020
It's Creepy, Sleepy, Joe
Well, California voted for Bernie but Joe got the most nominations.
My theory is, Joe actually stood on the same stage, at the same podium, with a black guy. Coming from Hawaii, where I myself was a member of the hated minority race, I'll never fully wrap my head around the mainland black/white thing. Biden simply standing, physically closely, with a black guy means a lot to a lot of the populace.
So he stood up there with Obama so he's going to be the nominee. And I'll spend another 6 hours traveling to my polling place to vote for him in 2 years.
I took some books I was done with and hung them in two bags off of the handlebars of the bike since I'd taken the saddlebag assembly off, and rode over to the bike shop because today's the day the new rear wheel was going to be put on, and after dropping the bike off I went over to the book store and got $10 trade credit for the few books they wanted, and got an old copy of Arban's and a book about Louis Armstrong for $6 each.
Then I got on the bus with my bags of the books they didn't want and headed for downtown. I got on some weird college bus and got off by City Fish, where I got some oysters and scallops with a side of cole slaw, but they gave me fries so I said I'd wanted cole slaw so I ended up with both. I put the fries in a to-go container they gave me so after eating I was now carrying 3 shopping bags, looking like I was at least on my way to becoming a "street person".
I got on a #68 bus and got off by Paseo de San Antonio and looked for someone who might appreciate the fries. There was a mound of stuff that I assumed probably had a shopping cart underneath at one of the tables at Starbucks, so I walked over thinking I'd leave the fries there but part of the mound moved and it was a lady, whom I asked if she liked fries, explaining that they're from City Fish and she said she could sure use them. She spoke clearly and well, sanely. Yet another member of our disappearing middle-class, now out on the street. I'll have to keep an eye out for her, as I like to help people who aren't completely gone.
I walked over to Philz Coffee with the unwanted books, and went in like I owned the place, and stacked the books already there neatly in their little book shelf and then added mine. No one looked at me twice or said anything. This is something I'd never be able to do in Hawaii as, as a "haole" I'd be under suspicion wherever I went, and I'd probably get into some real trouble, even legally, as one of the books I donated was "With The Old Breed" about WWII in the Pacific and written by a US Marine, yet.
I made my way by bus again to my bank and put my pay check in, and went back over to the bike shop and picked up the bike, leaving just under $60 with them. The new wheel seems to work fine.
I got back in time to spend an hour packing things to take to the post office, and used the bike trailer to take my little box of packages, plus a bag of trash I put in my 2nd favorite Dumpster, and on the way to the post office picked up several political signs. The material they're made of is really good for drawer liners which I need to make some of. I was able to drop off the packages just fine, and picked up more political signs on the way back, and once back here, ate and relaxed a bit.
I tried doing some practice and it went awful. I mean, I take a day or two off and I can't even get much above C in the staff?
My theory is, Joe actually stood on the same stage, at the same podium, with a black guy. Coming from Hawaii, where I myself was a member of the hated minority race, I'll never fully wrap my head around the mainland black/white thing. Biden simply standing, physically closely, with a black guy means a lot to a lot of the populace.
So he stood up there with Obama so he's going to be the nominee. And I'll spend another 6 hours traveling to my polling place to vote for him in 2 years.
I took some books I was done with and hung them in two bags off of the handlebars of the bike since I'd taken the saddlebag assembly off, and rode over to the bike shop because today's the day the new rear wheel was going to be put on, and after dropping the bike off I went over to the book store and got $10 trade credit for the few books they wanted, and got an old copy of Arban's and a book about Louis Armstrong for $6 each.
Then I got on the bus with my bags of the books they didn't want and headed for downtown. I got on some weird college bus and got off by City Fish, where I got some oysters and scallops with a side of cole slaw, but they gave me fries so I said I'd wanted cole slaw so I ended up with both. I put the fries in a to-go container they gave me so after eating I was now carrying 3 shopping bags, looking like I was at least on my way to becoming a "street person".
I got on a #68 bus and got off by Paseo de San Antonio and looked for someone who might appreciate the fries. There was a mound of stuff that I assumed probably had a shopping cart underneath at one of the tables at Starbucks, so I walked over thinking I'd leave the fries there but part of the mound moved and it was a lady, whom I asked if she liked fries, explaining that they're from City Fish and she said she could sure use them. She spoke clearly and well, sanely. Yet another member of our disappearing middle-class, now out on the street. I'll have to keep an eye out for her, as I like to help people who aren't completely gone.
I walked over to Philz Coffee with the unwanted books, and went in like I owned the place, and stacked the books already there neatly in their little book shelf and then added mine. No one looked at me twice or said anything. This is something I'd never be able to do in Hawaii as, as a "haole" I'd be under suspicion wherever I went, and I'd probably get into some real trouble, even legally, as one of the books I donated was "With The Old Breed" about WWII in the Pacific and written by a US Marine, yet.
I made my way by bus again to my bank and put my pay check in, and went back over to the bike shop and picked up the bike, leaving just under $60 with them. The new wheel seems to work fine.
I got back in time to spend an hour packing things to take to the post office, and used the bike trailer to take my little box of packages, plus a bag of trash I put in my 2nd favorite Dumpster, and on the way to the post office picked up several political signs. The material they're made of is really good for drawer liners which I need to make some of. I was able to drop off the packages just fine, and picked up more political signs on the way back, and once back here, ate and relaxed a bit.
I tried doing some practice and it went awful. I mean, I take a day or two off and I can't even get much above C in the staff?
Tuesday, March 3, 2020
We're all gonna get the Covid-19
After Ken left last night, I had more chicory coffee and practiced through two episodes of Treme on Amazon Prime Video.
I picked this up from the movie Trumpets Republic, where the champion Balkan trumpet player was shown practicing while watching some awful Balkan TV show, and realized, you know, the guy got those killer licks by spending sheer time doing them, and TV shows are not only entertaining but they provide a good timing method.
Ken had brought some mail by, including a book I'd ordered called "AKA Doc The Oral History Of A New Orleans Street Musician" by a "Dr. Saxtrum" who of course has a few layers of other names until, as he notes, after he dies his real name, unknown even to most of his friends, will come out at his funeral.
It's a hell of a little book. He traces his life from the 1950s and really got out and around. I can't recommend this book enough, especially to the prospective New Orleans busker.
Or, like Street Musician Daniel and many transplants, you can just head on down there, make a career out of wangling a free living off of the taxpayer, hate everything about New Orleans from the people to the cuisine, and go on occasional rants about the damned fags and the niggers, who are all in it together against you. That's always an option.
One thing that comes up often in Dr. Saxtrum's book is the conflict between blacks and whites in New Orleans because it came up so often in his life. There was basically all the kind of petty and at times not so petty shit I had to deal with being white in Hawaii. It's well worth studying to try to understand social divisions like this. There was even the "passing as white" thing in branches of his family, and what cemetery you could be buried in.
Of course that's the same shit as Hawaii, we were next to starving to death at one point when we lived in Punalu'u and you could count our ribs from across the street, and there was a Christian church across the street from us, and they've never have thought in a million years of helping us kids with any sort of food aid, even leftovers. They had parties and banquets right across the street from our hungry noses, and I was scrounging around for coconuts to husk and eat, and hoping I'd not get caught and my head bashed in .There's a little cemetery there and I'm sure it's not polluted by the bones of any hated "haole"; you're just supposed to feed them to the sharks or the dogs but only if you don't like the dogs.
Louis Armstrong notes how in the 19-teens, any black could be "impressed" into service by any white, in that if they saw you walking down the street and needed help loading a wagon or something, they'd call you over "C'mere boy!" and you had to do what they said. I can't compare my experiences with the experiences of blacks in the US which were worse and sanctioned by those in power, but it was the same understanding when I was a teen and one morning these Hawaiian neighbors - we never talked to them and were afraid of them because it was understood they could do anything with us and there was nothing we could do; I remember their name as Kealoha but I'm not sure now - the neighbors' daughter, about my age but bigger because she was better-fed, ordered me to help her try to start a car she was trying to get running. Rich enough to own a car, and my getting to school didn't matter; what does it matter if a "haole" goes to school or not? So I had to help her work on this car until she finally gave up in frustration and after asking her if she was done with me, I then got on the bus to school. I was late, but there was nothing I could do. That's a hell of a feeling.
Yes, my youngest, and my oldest, sisters live back there, but in both cases they've married well and are in their little protected bubbles, which hopefully will keep them safe. Myself, I like to get around and circulate. I'd always been an explorer, since I can remember, going far up and down the beach, far beyond what you'd expect a little kid to wander. It's a miracle I wasn't "disappeared". At least I had sound instincts and knew to stay out of sight.
I just don't think whites have to live this way in New Orleans. Sure there are bad areas, but you don't have the government, the school system, the cops, the post office (not going to explain here) everything against you. There's *one* busking venue in Hawaii, of a few blocks in Waikiki, and if the non-white-powers-that-be decide I can't play there then I can't play there. New Orleans has a bunch of different areas and streets, and a soft spot for trumpet players.
So as I've told Ken, at least the plane is to give New Orleans a try, and if nothing else it can be a "polishing" process, before I retire in Hawaii after all. Then I'd have the "protective coloration" of being "from New Orleans" and could tell people we, in my family, are "part French" which in Hawaii is pretty damned exotic. That's how it works in Hawaii; you try to pass yourself off as anything non-white you can, like "Portuguese".
So I got my practice in last night, and I note that I'm getting stronger, being able to hold longer tones at high-C and do some notes above it.
I looked through the wad of mail I'd built up, thinking my mail-in ballot was in there, but it's not; just the form to apply to vote by mail. I thought I'd put that I want to be a permanent vote-by-mail voter the last election. So I have a choice: I can bust out some money from savings and walk 1/2 hour to the light rail, take that to the transit center that's between Santa Clara and Alameda counties, and from there just get a cab to take me to my polling place and vote. Then reverse the steps to get back. It could take as little as 2 hours each way.
I looked over the sample ballot I have and I don't know shit about 99% of it. Because Ken's home address is my legal address, I'm legally a resident of Alameda County, the politics of which I don't know shit about. I live, and have lived, in Santa Clara county for years counting before the economic crash and afterward.
That's a huge, huge complaint I have about this area. It's hours and hours of travel to do anything. I looked it up and it would actually be easier to live in Baton Rouge and do everything in New Orleans, or live in New Orleans and have to do everything in Baton Rouge.
I decided I'll work on Christmas and on New Year's Day and all those other holidays, but election days are now my holidays, and headed out. I walked over to M8trix and changed a couple of $100 bills into $20's, and had a "double down" which is a nice bacon and eggs breakfast, and was even able to get tomato slices instead of hash browns, so it was a good "keto" meal.
I went over to the light rail and took it to Baypointe, which I like to call Baypointy. Then another train to the Milpitas BART station, and called the local cab company. Their receptionist is a robot, and I told the robot where I was and I was supposed to get a text back when the cab they assigned to me started out, but I never got the text. I'd decided if the cab didn't show in the 25 minutes until the #217 bus showed up, I'd just take the bus. It was a matter of just traveling up Warm Springs road, a bit past Ken's house where I legally live, to the local fire station where I went in and voted. They told me lots of people didn't get their mail-in ballots and I was able to vote with a "provisional" ballot.
I walked back out and waited at the bus stop going the other way, and bus with another number stopped and the driver picked me up and said he'll take me to a stop where I can get the #217 or the #66 because he's not sure how late the #217 runs. So he dropped me off at by the Walgreens a couple miles down the road, and after 20 minutes or so, a VTA (Santa Clara county system) bus showed up. Great, I figured, I'll ride this one right downtown and go from there. It did indeed go downtown but it crossed Santa Clara at 11th street and I got off there at a bus stop that was kind of creepy. A guy on a cruiser bike kept going around aimlessly, and two cops in their cars were parked in the parking lot behind me, zoomed off on a call, then came back. Weird people kept going around in weird ways.
So when a #23 bus came by, I got on and rode it down to 7th street and a bit less creepy stop with a decent looking Pho restaurant to look at the menus of. And pretty soon a #22 came and I rode that right to the front of Whole Foods on The Alameda.
I went in and got baked chicken and broccoli with garlic and some fizzy water and ate that upstairs, then went back in and got walnuts and stuff and then walked over to the light rail station that runs alongside the Diridon train station and waited with all the weird people there. There was a couple, the guy skinny as a rail with a very tall bicycle, and his girlfriend very fat, with blue hair. They spoke the usual underclass patois, all about cigarettes and such subjects. He mentioned something that sounded like he saw a bike he wanted to steal at the train station but it was locked too well, darn it. There was a crazy older lady and her crazy little dog running around, with her calling out "peepee" which I guess is the dog's name, but some other crazy guy was wound up in it too, and the fat gal went off to help somehow so that when the light rail came they missed it but I didn't.
I got off at Airport/Metro and walked in. It's been so dry that the plant life is way down from what it was. There was a whole happy little ecosystem along the sidewalk with ground squirrels and those wasps that knock out spiders and pull them back to their holes (I saw one doing this) and all kinds of interesting birds and bugs and things, and now it's a construction site and the area along the sidewalk is either gravel or wild oats that choked everything else out except for the odd mustard or thistle.
They're saying it will be an early fire season this year and it may be, but usually there's more fire risk when lots of green stuff grows over the winter and then it dries out when it gets hot. There's not that kind of growth this winter.
As I got back to the shop here, I noticed a ton of police cars where the bridge goes over Bayshore, and checking Reddit, it seems there's been a big fire where 10th street starts, burning a few shops in a row. A fire could start at any time, sure, especially when considering oil, solvents, etc but at this time of year things should be damp if not outright wet. So maybe it really is an early fire season...
And we're all going to get the coronavirus so the powers-that-be should be working more on how to care for those it affects badly, rather than freaking people out by holding out hope that if they wear a mask and cross their fingers right they might not get it.
I picked this up from the movie Trumpets Republic, where the champion Balkan trumpet player was shown practicing while watching some awful Balkan TV show, and realized, you know, the guy got those killer licks by spending sheer time doing them, and TV shows are not only entertaining but they provide a good timing method.
Ken had brought some mail by, including a book I'd ordered called "AKA Doc The Oral History Of A New Orleans Street Musician" by a "Dr. Saxtrum" who of course has a few layers of other names until, as he notes, after he dies his real name, unknown even to most of his friends, will come out at his funeral.
It's a hell of a little book. He traces his life from the 1950s and really got out and around. I can't recommend this book enough, especially to the prospective New Orleans busker.
Or, like Street Musician Daniel and many transplants, you can just head on down there, make a career out of wangling a free living off of the taxpayer, hate everything about New Orleans from the people to the cuisine, and go on occasional rants about the damned fags and the niggers, who are all in it together against you. That's always an option.
One thing that comes up often in Dr. Saxtrum's book is the conflict between blacks and whites in New Orleans because it came up so often in his life. There was basically all the kind of petty and at times not so petty shit I had to deal with being white in Hawaii. It's well worth studying to try to understand social divisions like this. There was even the "passing as white" thing in branches of his family, and what cemetery you could be buried in.
Of course that's the same shit as Hawaii, we were next to starving to death at one point when we lived in Punalu'u and you could count our ribs from across the street, and there was a Christian church across the street from us, and they've never have thought in a million years of helping us kids with any sort of food aid, even leftovers. They had parties and banquets right across the street from our hungry noses, and I was scrounging around for coconuts to husk and eat, and hoping I'd not get caught and my head bashed in .There's a little cemetery there and I'm sure it's not polluted by the bones of any hated "haole"; you're just supposed to feed them to the sharks or the dogs but only if you don't like the dogs.
Louis Armstrong notes how in the 19-teens, any black could be "impressed" into service by any white, in that if they saw you walking down the street and needed help loading a wagon or something, they'd call you over "C'mere boy!" and you had to do what they said. I can't compare my experiences with the experiences of blacks in the US which were worse and sanctioned by those in power, but it was the same understanding when I was a teen and one morning these Hawaiian neighbors - we never talked to them and were afraid of them because it was understood they could do anything with us and there was nothing we could do; I remember their name as Kealoha but I'm not sure now - the neighbors' daughter, about my age but bigger because she was better-fed, ordered me to help her try to start a car she was trying to get running. Rich enough to own a car, and my getting to school didn't matter; what does it matter if a "haole" goes to school or not? So I had to help her work on this car until she finally gave up in frustration and after asking her if she was done with me, I then got on the bus to school. I was late, but there was nothing I could do. That's a hell of a feeling.
Yes, my youngest, and my oldest, sisters live back there, but in both cases they've married well and are in their little protected bubbles, which hopefully will keep them safe. Myself, I like to get around and circulate. I'd always been an explorer, since I can remember, going far up and down the beach, far beyond what you'd expect a little kid to wander. It's a miracle I wasn't "disappeared". At least I had sound instincts and knew to stay out of sight.
I just don't think whites have to live this way in New Orleans. Sure there are bad areas, but you don't have the government, the school system, the cops, the post office (not going to explain here) everything against you. There's *one* busking venue in Hawaii, of a few blocks in Waikiki, and if the non-white-powers-that-be decide I can't play there then I can't play there. New Orleans has a bunch of different areas and streets, and a soft spot for trumpet players.
So as I've told Ken, at least the plane is to give New Orleans a try, and if nothing else it can be a "polishing" process, before I retire in Hawaii after all. Then I'd have the "protective coloration" of being "from New Orleans" and could tell people we, in my family, are "part French" which in Hawaii is pretty damned exotic. That's how it works in Hawaii; you try to pass yourself off as anything non-white you can, like "Portuguese".
So I got my practice in last night, and I note that I'm getting stronger, being able to hold longer tones at high-C and do some notes above it.
I looked through the wad of mail I'd built up, thinking my mail-in ballot was in there, but it's not; just the form to apply to vote by mail. I thought I'd put that I want to be a permanent vote-by-mail voter the last election. So I have a choice: I can bust out some money from savings and walk 1/2 hour to the light rail, take that to the transit center that's between Santa Clara and Alameda counties, and from there just get a cab to take me to my polling place and vote. Then reverse the steps to get back. It could take as little as 2 hours each way.
I looked over the sample ballot I have and I don't know shit about 99% of it. Because Ken's home address is my legal address, I'm legally a resident of Alameda County, the politics of which I don't know shit about. I live, and have lived, in Santa Clara county for years counting before the economic crash and afterward.
That's a huge, huge complaint I have about this area. It's hours and hours of travel to do anything. I looked it up and it would actually be easier to live in Baton Rouge and do everything in New Orleans, or live in New Orleans and have to do everything in Baton Rouge.
I decided I'll work on Christmas and on New Year's Day and all those other holidays, but election days are now my holidays, and headed out. I walked over to M8trix and changed a couple of $100 bills into $20's, and had a "double down" which is a nice bacon and eggs breakfast, and was even able to get tomato slices instead of hash browns, so it was a good "keto" meal.
I went over to the light rail and took it to Baypointe, which I like to call Baypointy. Then another train to the Milpitas BART station, and called the local cab company. Their receptionist is a robot, and I told the robot where I was and I was supposed to get a text back when the cab they assigned to me started out, but I never got the text. I'd decided if the cab didn't show in the 25 minutes until the #217 bus showed up, I'd just take the bus. It was a matter of just traveling up Warm Springs road, a bit past Ken's house where I legally live, to the local fire station where I went in and voted. They told me lots of people didn't get their mail-in ballots and I was able to vote with a "provisional" ballot.
I walked back out and waited at the bus stop going the other way, and bus with another number stopped and the driver picked me up and said he'll take me to a stop where I can get the #217 or the #66 because he's not sure how late the #217 runs. So he dropped me off at by the Walgreens a couple miles down the road, and after 20 minutes or so, a VTA (Santa Clara county system) bus showed up. Great, I figured, I'll ride this one right downtown and go from there. It did indeed go downtown but it crossed Santa Clara at 11th street and I got off there at a bus stop that was kind of creepy. A guy on a cruiser bike kept going around aimlessly, and two cops in their cars were parked in the parking lot behind me, zoomed off on a call, then came back. Weird people kept going around in weird ways.
So when a #23 bus came by, I got on and rode it down to 7th street and a bit less creepy stop with a decent looking Pho restaurant to look at the menus of. And pretty soon a #22 came and I rode that right to the front of Whole Foods on The Alameda.
I went in and got baked chicken and broccoli with garlic and some fizzy water and ate that upstairs, then went back in and got walnuts and stuff and then walked over to the light rail station that runs alongside the Diridon train station and waited with all the weird people there. There was a couple, the guy skinny as a rail with a very tall bicycle, and his girlfriend very fat, with blue hair. They spoke the usual underclass patois, all about cigarettes and such subjects. He mentioned something that sounded like he saw a bike he wanted to steal at the train station but it was locked too well, darn it. There was a crazy older lady and her crazy little dog running around, with her calling out "peepee" which I guess is the dog's name, but some other crazy guy was wound up in it too, and the fat gal went off to help somehow so that when the light rail came they missed it but I didn't.
I got off at Airport/Metro and walked in. It's been so dry that the plant life is way down from what it was. There was a whole happy little ecosystem along the sidewalk with ground squirrels and those wasps that knock out spiders and pull them back to their holes (I saw one doing this) and all kinds of interesting birds and bugs and things, and now it's a construction site and the area along the sidewalk is either gravel or wild oats that choked everything else out except for the odd mustard or thistle.
They're saying it will be an early fire season this year and it may be, but usually there's more fire risk when lots of green stuff grows over the winter and then it dries out when it gets hot. There's not that kind of growth this winter.
As I got back to the shop here, I noticed a ton of police cars where the bridge goes over Bayshore, and checking Reddit, it seems there's been a big fire where 10th street starts, burning a few shops in a row. A fire could start at any time, sure, especially when considering oil, solvents, etc but at this time of year things should be damp if not outright wet. So maybe it really is an early fire season...
And we're all going to get the coronavirus so the powers-that-be should be working more on how to care for those it affects badly, rather than freaking people out by holding out hope that if they wear a mask and cross their fingers right they might not get it.
Monday, March 2, 2020
Here it is Monday
Having a venue to write in certainly takes away the inspiration to write. Maybe it will help if I contemplate that no one reads or will read this. Jobs for writers are gone.
Hell jobs for just about everything are gone. Perhaps the jobs market is best thought of in terms of the alimentary canal. Restaurant jobs refuse to go away because people refuse to stop eating. Anything that feeds into that is probably fairly safe, from companies that wash restaurant uniforms to truck farms that grow fresh basil. While less and less people can afford cars, quite a number still drive them, above all other things to drive to the restaurant.
My decision to go into high tech was certainly a bad one. While the US may not be "hewers of wood and drawers of water" to the world, we're certainly growers of corn and purveyors of pork. Our vast land is good for growing foodstuffs, and the general dumbing-down is probably just what's needed to keep kids on the farm.
I watched too many videos yesterday and last night and when I got around to practicing it was last thing before bed and of course it wasn't great.
Today, surprisingly, I got an email from my aunt. My mom's gone but she remains, in her 90s (her mother, in turn, lived to be 100). She's got a huge mansion in Sierra Madre which is where the rich people in Pasadena fled when the coloreds started to move into "pass the donuts". She drinks like a fish and is built like a little tank, like my mother except with blue eyes instead of green. She sits on her millions like a dragon (Western evil type not Asian lucky kind) and I'm pretty sure would call the cops on my ass if I showed up starving at her door. When the Revolution comes I'm heading to her place with my pitchfork first.
I told her of my plans to go to New Orleans in a few years for that, right now, is indeed my plan. The reasoning being that it's probably not any more dangerous for me than Hawaii would be, that they actually like trumpet playing there, and that the cost of living is about half what it is here. Even on the minimum Social Security which would be about $800 a month, I'd not be homeless there.
After all I need to think in terms of leaving here in about 3 years. The electronic surplus market is not doing well, just like all the other various markets these days. I think Ken can keep this place going for a few more years even at a loss, but I can't count on more than that.
At one time Ken had told me - I'm sure he believed it himself - that my pay would gradually go up to maybe $30k a year. The possibility of that died years ago.
I had coffee and ate and packed 20 things and took them up to the post office, after watching two two trucks and the copz evict the parking lot bums, for now anyway. They tend to build up a bigger and bigger encampment until they piss someone off or the cops are onto them for some crime they've done in the area then they get cleaned out. What a life it must be.
Ken came by this evening with tons of boxes and bubble wrap etc., and looked over the "engunkment" of part of the floor of the shop, and wrote out my pay check for the week, and we sat and talked about stuff. I told him about my plans to try out New Orleans, and we talked about that for a bit. I just want him to know that I'll stick around here for the next 3 years, but after that I might be very ready for a change.
Hell jobs for just about everything are gone. Perhaps the jobs market is best thought of in terms of the alimentary canal. Restaurant jobs refuse to go away because people refuse to stop eating. Anything that feeds into that is probably fairly safe, from companies that wash restaurant uniforms to truck farms that grow fresh basil. While less and less people can afford cars, quite a number still drive them, above all other things to drive to the restaurant.
My decision to go into high tech was certainly a bad one. While the US may not be "hewers of wood and drawers of water" to the world, we're certainly growers of corn and purveyors of pork. Our vast land is good for growing foodstuffs, and the general dumbing-down is probably just what's needed to keep kids on the farm.
I watched too many videos yesterday and last night and when I got around to practicing it was last thing before bed and of course it wasn't great.
Today, surprisingly, I got an email from my aunt. My mom's gone but she remains, in her 90s (her mother, in turn, lived to be 100). She's got a huge mansion in Sierra Madre which is where the rich people in Pasadena fled when the coloreds started to move into "pass the donuts". She drinks like a fish and is built like a little tank, like my mother except with blue eyes instead of green. She sits on her millions like a dragon (Western evil type not Asian lucky kind) and I'm pretty sure would call the cops on my ass if I showed up starving at her door. When the Revolution comes I'm heading to her place with my pitchfork first.
I told her of my plans to go to New Orleans in a few years for that, right now, is indeed my plan. The reasoning being that it's probably not any more dangerous for me than Hawaii would be, that they actually like trumpet playing there, and that the cost of living is about half what it is here. Even on the minimum Social Security which would be about $800 a month, I'd not be homeless there.
After all I need to think in terms of leaving here in about 3 years. The electronic surplus market is not doing well, just like all the other various markets these days. I think Ken can keep this place going for a few more years even at a loss, but I can't count on more than that.
At one time Ken had told me - I'm sure he believed it himself - that my pay would gradually go up to maybe $30k a year. The possibility of that died years ago.
I had coffee and ate and packed 20 things and took them up to the post office, after watching two two trucks and the copz evict the parking lot bums, for now anyway. They tend to build up a bigger and bigger encampment until they piss someone off or the cops are onto them for some crime they've done in the area then they get cleaned out. What a life it must be.
Ken came by this evening with tons of boxes and bubble wrap etc., and looked over the "engunkment" of part of the floor of the shop, and wrote out my pay check for the week, and we sat and talked about stuff. I told him about my plans to try out New Orleans, and we talked about that for a bit. I just want him to know that I'll stick around here for the next 3 years, but after that I might be very ready for a change.
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Coolish Sunday
Well, it turns out I didn't do a thing about the "oobleck" yesterday, other than put down some cardboard where I have to walk. The water component has mostly evaporated, leaving the oil. So now we've just got oil laying around. A lot of it is under things, literally 1000s of lbs of things, so my plan is to just use Formula 409 and paper towels to clean up the areas I can reach.
Keeping sales up and keeping Ken's little business here alive takes a higher priority. I have to keep this shebang going for 3 more years, anyway.
The plan had been to move back to Hawaii, after all, I grew up there. It's why I've been saving up cash, almost a thousand bucks so far, so if things got bad in a hurry here I could always buy a plane ticket for there and be out of here.
But realistically speaking that makes little sense. There are a lot of things I love about Hawaii but there are also a lot of things I hate about Hawaii, not the least of which being that it doesn't matter that I grew up there and not in some privileged enclave. I'm a "haole" and will always be a "haole" and I have met people who even I thought were fresh off the boat due to their whiteness and blondeness, and turned out to have been there as a family since the whaling days. But someone who's any sort of brown can show up there and get a warm welcome that no "haole" no matter how deep their roots there, will get.
I have two sisters back there who managed to marry well, so they can live their lives in their own little bubbles. I was back there in 03 and visited quite a bit with the older one, who lives with a level of fear and general caution I found a bit jarring. Didn't know her next-door neighbors, was afraid to ride the bus, was jumpy as a rabbit when I took her to a working-class place I'd found for fish sandwiches. The younger, being blonde and blue-eyed too, no doubt has her safe circuit of places to be.
I'm not happy living that way. I like to get out and circulate.
There are gut feelings about the place that no amount of mulling over and "gaining perspective" and so on can fix. At best it would be a flimsy patching-over, said patches to fall right off in the near-tropical heat. My dream of getting a room to rent near the university and then somehow going out to the North Shore and Windward Side to pick shells isn't a very practical one, as it's a couple hours on the bus each way. Plus a "haole" picking "their" shells is never welcome. It was OK when I was a thin, tan, obviously quite poor, kid in the 70s. Now, not so much, and there's law on "their" side as gathering seashells etc for commercial purposes is illegal.
I'd just end up holed up in my little room, getting out to Waikiki to play trumpet IF they'd let me, as a "haole" who stands up and makes noise, as trumpet-playing is considered, is a "haole" who needs a good pounding down, or at least being banned from playing "any brass instrument" on the street in Waikiki.
I could get by as I'm too much of a survivor not to. But aside from a last gasp, to see the old places before I die, I'd not be happy there at all. And I'd not waste a plane flight, as the old places are gone; covered with houses and paved over and bays killed with silt and once-healthy ecosystems now just dead coral and only fossil shells on the beach.
I can't even go back and be a writer, as there's nothing to write about in Olde Hawaii. First, it's all been done to death. Second, the "haole" thing again - Barack Obama could have a second career in "Hawaiian Studies" and that would be fine, although with a "haole" mother and a "popolo" father, having gone to Punahou, the local snob-factory, er, elite prep school, it's hard to say how much of the local experience he had growing up other than smoking the local weed. But the important thing is he's not white. He could say things I could not allude to without literally being burned in my bed.
Oh yes, "haole" habitations have the curious property of being more inflammable than average in dear old Hawaii. It happened to an artist who'd been a mentor to me as a teen (they'd gotten him drunk on wine when when he dozed off, lit his place but contrary to their plans he'd awakened and ran out in time to live). It's happened more recently to a "haole" who dared to rent out surfboards in Waikiki, first his house with himself and children inside - thankfully their dogs started making noise and they got out in time - and then they burned out business in Waik's, taking out the public surf racks and the police sub-station there also. No one will be caught.
When I was a kid on Portlock Road, a kid friend of ours, Ross, had his house burned. Ross had been a nice kid; a good friend. Rumor was it was "local" trouble, blamed on their taking some lava rocks back from the big island or some nonsense. More probably, Mr. Ross, had proven to be better at something than the locals, and he had to go. The huge black balloon of smoke went up and Ross and his family left, I guess for the mainland because we never heard from them again. And the house sat empty for years, their pool becoming a haven for frogs and toads.
There were too many of us, between people and dogs, to burn out. Instead it was the typical story. Dad was promised work at good pay to get him to the islands, then once we'd moved in the deal was changed (yellow man speak with forked tongue) and Dad had to take any computer programming work he could get. He was in the precariat before it was cool. I'm given to going on about how he should have used his hobby carpentry skills and joined the carpenter's union, but that probably would have been a really good way to have something fall on one's head from a story or two up, or have a tragic car accident.
I can't physically be in Hawaii and write about this stuff or even think about it. It's a land where the tiniest wrong sort of glance, the wrong shade of word, can get you into some really deep shit. And if you're "haole" they won't break a sweat looking for you in Hawaii.
Keeping sales up and keeping Ken's little business here alive takes a higher priority. I have to keep this shebang going for 3 more years, anyway.
The plan had been to move back to Hawaii, after all, I grew up there. It's why I've been saving up cash, almost a thousand bucks so far, so if things got bad in a hurry here I could always buy a plane ticket for there and be out of here.
But realistically speaking that makes little sense. There are a lot of things I love about Hawaii but there are also a lot of things I hate about Hawaii, not the least of which being that it doesn't matter that I grew up there and not in some privileged enclave. I'm a "haole" and will always be a "haole" and I have met people who even I thought were fresh off the boat due to their whiteness and blondeness, and turned out to have been there as a family since the whaling days. But someone who's any sort of brown can show up there and get a warm welcome that no "haole" no matter how deep their roots there, will get.
I have two sisters back there who managed to marry well, so they can live their lives in their own little bubbles. I was back there in 03 and visited quite a bit with the older one, who lives with a level of fear and general caution I found a bit jarring. Didn't know her next-door neighbors, was afraid to ride the bus, was jumpy as a rabbit when I took her to a working-class place I'd found for fish sandwiches. The younger, being blonde and blue-eyed too, no doubt has her safe circuit of places to be.
I'm not happy living that way. I like to get out and circulate.
There are gut feelings about the place that no amount of mulling over and "gaining perspective" and so on can fix. At best it would be a flimsy patching-over, said patches to fall right off in the near-tropical heat. My dream of getting a room to rent near the university and then somehow going out to the North Shore and Windward Side to pick shells isn't a very practical one, as it's a couple hours on the bus each way. Plus a "haole" picking "their" shells is never welcome. It was OK when I was a thin, tan, obviously quite poor, kid in the 70s. Now, not so much, and there's law on "their" side as gathering seashells etc for commercial purposes is illegal.
I'd just end up holed up in my little room, getting out to Waikiki to play trumpet IF they'd let me, as a "haole" who stands up and makes noise, as trumpet-playing is considered, is a "haole" who needs a good pounding down, or at least being banned from playing "any brass instrument" on the street in Waikiki.
I could get by as I'm too much of a survivor not to. But aside from a last gasp, to see the old places before I die, I'd not be happy there at all. And I'd not waste a plane flight, as the old places are gone; covered with houses and paved over and bays killed with silt and once-healthy ecosystems now just dead coral and only fossil shells on the beach.
I can't even go back and be a writer, as there's nothing to write about in Olde Hawaii. First, it's all been done to death. Second, the "haole" thing again - Barack Obama could have a second career in "Hawaiian Studies" and that would be fine, although with a "haole" mother and a "popolo" father, having gone to Punahou, the local snob-factory, er, elite prep school, it's hard to say how much of the local experience he had growing up other than smoking the local weed. But the important thing is he's not white. He could say things I could not allude to without literally being burned in my bed.
Oh yes, "haole" habitations have the curious property of being more inflammable than average in dear old Hawaii. It happened to an artist who'd been a mentor to me as a teen (they'd gotten him drunk on wine when when he dozed off, lit his place but contrary to their plans he'd awakened and ran out in time to live). It's happened more recently to a "haole" who dared to rent out surfboards in Waikiki, first his house with himself and children inside - thankfully their dogs started making noise and they got out in time - and then they burned out business in Waik's, taking out the public surf racks and the police sub-station there also. No one will be caught.
When I was a kid on Portlock Road, a kid friend of ours, Ross, had his house burned. Ross had been a nice kid; a good friend. Rumor was it was "local" trouble, blamed on their taking some lava rocks back from the big island or some nonsense. More probably, Mr. Ross, had proven to be better at something than the locals, and he had to go. The huge black balloon of smoke went up and Ross and his family left, I guess for the mainland because we never heard from them again. And the house sat empty for years, their pool becoming a haven for frogs and toads.
There were too many of us, between people and dogs, to burn out. Instead it was the typical story. Dad was promised work at good pay to get him to the islands, then once we'd moved in the deal was changed (yellow man speak with forked tongue) and Dad had to take any computer programming work he could get. He was in the precariat before it was cool. I'm given to going on about how he should have used his hobby carpentry skills and joined the carpenter's union, but that probably would have been a really good way to have something fall on one's head from a story or two up, or have a tragic car accident.
I can't physically be in Hawaii and write about this stuff or even think about it. It's a land where the tiniest wrong sort of glance, the wrong shade of word, can get you into some really deep shit. And if you're "haole" they won't break a sweat looking for you in Hawaii.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)