Memorial Day

 30th day sober. So today is Memorial Day, which is somehow needed along with Veterans Day, which is on November 11th, originally Armistice Day, the day on which, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month, a silence fell over the trenches of Europe. 

It's really warm out there so I don't feel like doing any more traveling than I can avoid. 

I was actually going to go to bed at about 2AM last night, but then, amazingly, I found "A Bronx Tale" on Youtube. It was only in 240p but most of the stuff I watch is 480p and even 240p is far better than those old tube TVs so it was fine. I'd wanted to see that movie for the longest time, and thought I'd have to buy it on DVD to see it. So I stayed up and watched it; it was really good. 

I got up, had vitamins and sunflower seeds, fixed up a big egg salad and had a pour-over coffee, and eventually got out of here not with my banjo on my knee but with my trumpet on my back. 

I went up to H Mart and got a bunch of stuff, including a 6-pack of 0% alcohol Heineken, which was $11! I'll try it once,  I decided. My shopping came to $46 and change, not surprising considering I bought Brazil nuts and some coffee pour-overs and dried shrimp and such pricey things. 

I rode to Tom's place and knocked on the door, although not that loudly. He seemed to either not be there or passed out asleep or something. I opened one of the "beers" and tried it; it was OK. So I futzed around playing things on the trumpet and eventually started to pack up when I noticed a bum circulating around. 

I had the trumpet case halfway zipped up when Tom went into the side yard to use the porta-john there. He'd been inside watching TV. So we hung out and talked and I gave him a "beer" and eventually he got his trumpet out and I tried to walk him through "Amazing Grace" with a small amount of success. But mostly we just shot the shit for a long time. He'd not been practicing, and was not interested, it seemed, in practicing at least when I'm there with him. (One of the things I'd learned to love when taking lessons were the times my teacher would play along so we were playing together.) 

When it was becoming time to go, he got back into offering me $100 to watch the place, and the various requirements like I'm to walk the side yard daily and so on (assuming he was good for the $100 which I think he's not, it means $10/day for a lot of responsibility) but it felt to me like he was going to "zoom" me like I'd been "zoomed" so often at the Gilroy place: Get promised pay for doing something, do it, and the pay never materializes.  I told Tom about a couple of these instances and why I don't want to do it, and he said those were "insults". So I told him when I smell trouble I take off the other way, and I'm not, just plain not, interested. And I took off. 

I'm not sure it's worth it even trying to teach him to be a busker because he's not willing to put any practice in. I'd told him more than once about putting something semi-entertaining on YouTube on, then practicing while halfway watching it, both as a way to make practice a bit less boring and as a way of making sure practicing was done for the length of the show. And I'd said he ought to work on "Saints" and "Amazing Grace" because they're easy, essential, songs but he's not done 'em. 

So .... I dunno. I'm beginning to think I should not spend so much time on the guy. I'm better off spending time on my own practice and, when things have settled down, getting back out there.

Less squeaks

 29th day sober. Today it was the usual, up around 2 in the afternoon after having gone to bed around 6-7AM. 

I didn't practice last night, having felt tired after doing the ebay listings and having spent time with Tome etc. Today I had coffee and nuts etc for breakfast then rode to Japantown for some things from Nijiya (but forgot to get an onion) and since it was so hot outside, just hurried back here with my groceries and had some lovely sashimi on rice and watched stuff on YouTube and eventually got around to a thorough practice session. 

Before practice, I dug out the package of Stanley knife blades I got when I moved into the new building here, thinking I was going to install carpet in the loft and would go through plenty of them. I looked over my reeds, discovered one had a split so it's a dead soldier already and took out two more, went over all of the flat bottoms of them and shaves the "wings" just a little bit on each, as I've seen a number of tutorials on YouTube about, and the first one I tried, one of the new ones, wow did it play. 

Was it the reed, or myself, is the thing. It's far too early in this game to tell. I'm going to take people's word for it that if I slick up the bottoms it helps reeds work better, and just a little work on the "wings" seems to be a general good thing, so I'll do these things just because reeds cost a bit over $2 each and I'd like them to last as well as play well. 

I did a couple more pages in the book, and learned a new note now, the low Bb and played more of the little pieces. I'm sure I (a) sound awful compared to a skilled player and (b) sound better than when I started. I squeaked a *lot* less! In fact hardly squeaked at all.

I also practiced Taps a bit on the trumpet. No problem playing it without having to press down any keys to make it play lower; I can hit the high note fine which is more than I could say a year ago when I dragged my still slightly drunk ass downtown to play it at 3 in the afternoon for Taps Across America. If I can get up early enough I'm inclined to do it again for this year, if only to celebrate not being a drinker any more and being able to play it in the proper key. 

The only argument against doing this I can see is, as it gets more publicity it's sure to turn into more jingoistic nonsense like that "thank you for your service" crap. 

Clarinet so far

 28th day sober. I went to bed at about 5AM, drifting off to sleep rehearsing the finger positions I know now and their notes on the staff. 

I wonder why I'm squeaking so much? The last time I played clarinet and well enough to play "Harry Truman" by Chicago, and "How Dry I Am" for the dubious benefit of a staggering drunk on the other side of Castro Street who was being held up by two friends, I was hardly squeaking until I got tired out. But then, I was playing a student Vito clarinet, which are noted for being made for minimum squeaks. I think smaller finger holes were one feature. Relative squeak-less-ness seems to have been achieved by sacrificing tone, from what I've read about Vitos. 

I'm also stronger due to all that trumpet playing, yet because I'm essentially new to clarinet, I know my embouchure is all over the place. 

I woke up at 2, had coffee, vitamins, and nuts. I'd gotten some Doutor pour-overs at Nijiya and man, those things are good! 

I packed 4 things that need to go by FedEx, and which made a decent-sized load. I left here at 5:30 and got to FedEx about 5:50 so it was perfect timing. 

I got a gyro at Baba's Falafel and ate at the egg shaped robot place, and as usual it was excellent. I wanted to have a full stomach because when I was done with that, I stopped at Tom's place and told him I'd been thinking about it and decided I don't want to watch his place for him and that the Yamaha hard case should stay with the Yamaha trumpet. I told him about a couple of music stores that will probably sell him a hard case, and that as for the building, if he makes it look really neat, have all trash cans etc behind the fence, get rid of the weeds and sweep up, etc. make it look super-neat, no one ought to bother it for the 10 days he'll be gone. 

He didn't seem to take this personally, maybe because he knew he was going to try to stiff me for the money. We ended up talking about a bunch of things and I mentioned our Ebay sales being down due to my not working as well due to the domoic acid poisoning then deciding to get off of alcohol then the 2nd covid shot. That got me into talking about getting off of alcohol and how I'd been very motivated by reading up on the actual damage it does to the body. I talked about ascites and the BBC documentaries showing even quite young people who have it, normal arms and legs but big belly with the belly button actually pushed outward. About then, Tom stood up and I saw in profile that his belly was not only big but his belly button pushed outwards. 

Since the guy's probably going to just drink himself to death, I don't mind getting him into busking but I don't want to be too involved.

Squeaks galore

 27th day sober. After listing Ebay things last night, I got my practice in, a bit over an hour. I did two more pages in the band book, and worked a little out of the fingering chart in the back. I used to do this on trumpet, lots of chromatic scales. Even Mr. Sowlakis told me that he's decided it's best for adult learners to learn the chromatic scale right away because it makes things easier. 

I still got a lot of squeaks though. I'd taken the 3 reeds I'm using and scraped the bottoms with my Swiss army knife then polished the bottoms on a piece of paper, which may or may not have helped. I also found or at least felt that I got less squeaks and a bit more resonance if I use a double-lip embouchure. That ought to at least save on mouthpiece wear. 

I went to bed at 6AM and woke up at 2.  I had coffee and vitamins etc. and packed some things, about 15 of them to be exact. I ate a big bowl of guacamole before leaving, and was out the door at a quarter after 6. I rode by Tom's place and he shouted "Alex!" at me and I just waved and kept riding as I wanted to get to the post office before it closed at 7. Traffic was heavy but then, it's Memorial Day Weekend so I guess people were getting out of town. On the way back, once I was past the Brokaw/880 intersection, traffic went down to near zero. 

I didn't look for shipping stuff because I plan to go out tomorrow with the bike trailer also, so I stopped by Tom's place and told him I'd heard him but had to get to the post office etc. We talked a bit and he's looking at going on a vacation back home to Alaska to give his father's girlfriend and now caretaker a break, and says he'll pay me $100 to watch his building while he's gone. I said the best way for me to do that is not only check regularly, but to get rid of the weeds out front and keep the place super clean so it's obvious someone is taking care of the place. He also wants to buy the hard case that came with my Yamaha trumpet which I said I'll sell him for $40. 

We talked about stuff and it came out that a guy who'd been a real pain in my ass at the Gilroy place had hung himself. "And nothing of value was lost". I wondered to Tom how, the guy had come into $400k of inheritance and at the time he'd done so, it was possible to buy any of a large assortment of houses on a few acres in that general area, much of which is quite beautiful. But the guy'd just pissed away his money, somehow going through the $400k in about 2 years. 

Eventually we were talked out and it was getting cold. Tom had been drinking these cans of Bud Lite or something like that, blue cans, continually. I know the feeling from when I was really alcohol-dependent. Ken'd be over and I'd have to take sneaky shots to keep the shakes at bay. 

I got back here and had some snack foods like the rest of the pork rinds I'd bought along with the O'Doul's the other day, and some walnuts I toasted. And I messed around with my reeds more. I found one YouTube video showing "the paper trick" where you just take the reed and rub in in a circular motion, 100 times, on a sheet of paper. This polishes the bottom and very slightly sands it down even. So I did that with the three reeds I'm using. 

Eventually I got around to practicing and still had some problems with squeaks but not as bad as the last practice session. And I learned a new note, Bb, just above A in the staff. I practiced a bit over an hour, with each reed getting about an equal amount of time. It's just a matter of putting in that practice every day.

Suspended light rail.

 26th day sober. Due to the poor widdle white snowflake who had his delicate feelings hurt and thus just has to shoot 8 co-workers at the VTA light rail yard, there's going to be no light rail for a while. I guess I'm glad I got over to Mountain View last weekend instead of putting it off until this one. 

Events like this are normalized in American culture. Having a mental health problem is considered shameful and weak, so if you want to keep your job and your (fair-weather) friends you hide it and bottle it up. And the average American has few close friends. 

In my case I'm lucky. I've got Ken, and Suzy, and Rinban Sakamoto has said repeatedly that if anyone needs help, they are there for them. I know that old Mo'ili'ili boy would listen to my problems and have good advice. Plus, when I play music, I feel like I've got a whole crowd of friends. If Benny Goodman were in the room he'd want me to learn to practice as much as he did. Artie Shaw would want me to keep working on those super high notes I discovered last night (he was a master of the altissimo range) and Sidney Bechet would want to teach me to really swing it. 

I guess this is a general thing with musicians. There's a whole "family" of great musicians who you are trying to be like, and although many are not alive any more, you have the feeling that they're rooting for you. 

I was up at 1:45 today. Someone, somewhere around this complex, was doing something "heavy" in that I'd feel these bumps from the ground. They kept going ... bump ... bump .. BUMP ... bump ... etc. Kind of unnerving considering all the earthquakes I experienced in Southern California. 

I did a quick look and my super high notes/squeaks could be from "reed too weak or too strong" (gee that's helpful) or the student having too tight an embouchure. That 2nd one makes more sense. I think I also discovered how to kick things up into the altissimo, but I have to learn to control it. It sure beats the hell out of finding out that for me altissimo is hard to get to. 

I took off for downtown at about 3:30 and dropped off some things at the little free libraries. I haven't found any books worth taking home for a long time now but at least they're good for donating things to. 

The bank deposit went fine and the IRS still hasn't cashed my check for about $1085 so ... I dunno. I wonder if I forgot to sign anything? Hopefully I'll hear from them soon and can pay the rest that I'm sure I owe, about $1600. As I explained to Ken, they have all the info they need to calculate it since I put in my status (single, non-dependent) and age, gross income, any write-offs (none) and so on. They should be able to figure it up and send me a bill and then we'll be square. 

I went over to the Amazon place for the lecithin I'd ordered and some bubble mailers, then over to Nijiya for a few things. The bentos were wiped out though so after walking around a bit I decided I had "treats" enough at home, and for my "treat" I get on a payday I'd get some O'Doul's which I got at TAK market. 

Then back here, at a crawling pace. It was very windy. I got in, relaxed with some O'Doul's and pork rinds and peanuts, and some shows on YouTube. Eventually I noticed the guy at the welding place take off and their trash can was out - they'd tossed out tons of pink anti-static bubble pockets and these foam sheet sleeves, perfect for using in packing so I went out and got those and sorted them into a box (as much for neatness as to make sure none of them were dirty) so that was a nice find. 

 

Is it Wednesday already?

25th day sober.  Up at 2:30 so I guess I needed the sleep. I had vitamins, nuts, and tea, and eventually got to packing some things. I thought I could push things later an hour since they're large, they're going by FedEx. But in reality two of them were international Priority Mail so I realized I have to get done what I can by 6. That meant 3 of the 4 packages. 

I packed those and was out the door at a quarter after 6. The drop-offs all went well, and I stopped at Baba's Falafel for a gyro, which I ate at the egg-shaped robot place. 

I picked up some shipping stuff and at a new place I've found for firm foam, the guy there (Hispanic I'm pretty sure) insisted I come into his shop and take a bundle of foam pieces he had. Nice guy! I think if I can take his foam scraps I'm solving a problem for him (it takes up room in his dumpster) and I get excellent packing foam. 

At the Smithfield site, they've got areas scraped down to the dirt so I think they're going to eventually, once they've got it all turned into mountains of rubble and then the rubble cleared away, going to turn it into an Amazon parking lot. That's kind of interesting because a driver could not even own a vehicle themselves, take the light rail or the #60 Airport Flyer bus and walk in, pick up an Amazon van and work. It's not the kind of work I'd like to do but I can see a lot of people who've worked for UPS or FedEx giving it a try. 

When I was back here I ate some celery and did a thorough bath, washed hair, shaved, trimmed, etc. I also vacuumed the office and cleaned the bathroom. When I was done with that and had put a few things away, I got out a large thing that needs to go out tomorrow and Ken came by as I was packing it. Ken did his thing, bringing things in, while I finished the packing job, and he wrote me my pay check - $300 this time. 

Ken said he can take the package to FedEx tomorrow and put it in his truck. I said it seems Ebay is really looking at shipping and even handling times, so packing something and then sending it out 2 days later isn't going to fly any more. I told him I think I need to prioritize shipping, even if it means listing less, because we've got stuff we've been sitting on for 8 years now and when we've got "top rated seller" status all that oddball stuff starts selling, and we could use clearing it out. 

After sorting and counting out a bunch of parts, I wanted to make sure I got my practice in, and did so, for a bit over an hour. I recalled how, on trumpet, what I found helpful was on each little exercise to play it over 5X or until I can get it right even if it takes more times than that. So it was lots of over-and-over while halfway watching more Ken Burns "Jazz" videos. 

I also discovered something weird. I can make super high notes if I'm on G or A, something high already, and I change my mouthpiece angle or really just move my jaw a bit or something, and I can get these super high notes. Now, it's possible to get a squeak if you don't cover the holes you're supposed to cover but this is different because I can do it from G and that's got no holes covered. Plus, I can take the super high note I get on G and press other keys and turn it into other high notes. It's pretty damn cool, frankly. I don't want it happening all the time, though, and I think I was getting tired and tensing up, or, the #2 reeds I got a whole box of (10) may be too light for me already. So I'm just going to work with them for a while before I go to 2-1/2s.

Tune-A-Day

 24th day sober. What I'd told Tom about looking for used music books at the Recycle Book Store seemed like such a good idea that when I woke up at 1, I decided to take the books I'd put in a bag to take there, and go there while it's still relatively early in the day. 

I packed a few small things to drop off at the post office downtown, and was out the door at a quarter to 3. I took some quarters with me, because the usual lunch truck was out by the entrance to the complex and I got a breakfast sandwich for $2. 

I locked the bike at the post office and got the packages out. An old white guy came up and asked me, "Pardon me, do you know where the post office is?" I pointed to the building he was right in front of, and said, "That's it". Yet another reminder of how great sobriety is. 

I went over to Recycle Books and handed my books over and looked through the bargain shelf near the door. When the guy had evaluated my books he said I had $33 in store credit. I looked through the music books and all I found that I was interested in was a copy of the "Tune A Day" method which at least has some neat written music to work through. I got that one, plus one by L. Sprague De Camp about the "golden age" of American inventors from about 1830 to WWI, and one on Charles Dickens' descriptions and commentaries on prisons in his time. Those last two should provide interesting reading when the internet winks out. 

Before hitting the book store I'd gone to Whole Foods in hopes of buying some lecithin. This is something that could always be found in any health food store in Hawaii, but even with one of the employees helping I could not find it. It's supposed to be good for fatty liver which is why I'm buying it. I've taken it before and it's even fairly tasty. 

After all that, I went to Nijiya and got a bunch of things, and rode back here. It's windy as hell out there, in keeping with it being the End Times. Honestly, I wonder if a big manifestation of global warming will be insane winds? 

At least I stopped to investigate a Home Depot moving type cardboard box that turned out to be full of clothes and all pretty much my size, by the Goodwill complex on 7th. I got a pair of shorts, two pairs of pants I'll have to try for size, a pair of dress pants, some "waffle weave" long sleeve shirts for the winter months, and a neat pair of shorts I'm wearing now. And an interesting looking pair of sweat pants with a very bright white stripe down each leg - this coming winter I might see if I can just wear sweat pants all the time so they might come in useful. The stuff must have just been dropped off and the nice middle-class people who left it had washed everything.  I'm wearing the shorts now and they're nice. It's easy $100 worth of clothes even if I'd bought them in a discount or thrift store. 

So while I mailed 3 small things off today, I have a bunch of large packages, two of which will have to be handed off to FedEx tomorrow. Also packed tomorrow. I'm coming up with a schedule that works and allows for clarinet practice. It seems to be coalescing into something like: Get up, pack things, somewhere in there eat some stuff, then head out for the post office and FedEx around 6 PM (traffic's lighter and the dumpster diving better) get back here, relax a bit maybe eat something, then clarinet practice, then do my day's (night's?) Ebay listings. 

I've only just gotten us out of the doghouse with Ebay, and we're back to "above average" but it's hanging by a thread. I think the mistake I made in the past is, for instance, I have two boxes that need to be shipped tomorrow or they go overdue. In the past, I'd *pack* them the day they're due, but might not actually ship them until the day after. Or the day after that. Since Ebay's tracking packages fairly well, I think that's what's been giving us an over 11% late shipping rate. So it's pack them tomorrow, but they get sent off tomorrow also. 

Thursdays are problematical because for me, I simply must go to the bank on Thursday. It makes my week work out right. To the extent that if I miss a Thursday, I'll deposit 2 checks the next Thursday. So on a Thursday I can at least take some small things with me to drop off at the good old 1930s Thank You FDR post office downtown. 

Now, the clarinet. Why the fuck am I suddenly playing the clarinet? It's not all that sudden, actually. It started in high school. The cool kids got to play clarinet and they never let us forget it, since for some reason they wore their mouthpieces around their necks with reeds on, and would randomly go "WEEEEEET!!" in class. The teachers didn't even come down on them for it, not like it'd be if I whipped out my trumpet mouthpiece and did a spit-solo of an Eagles guitar riff - that'd warrant a trip to the principal at least and I was no fool, just a loser who got stuck with trumpet. 

My last time living under a parent's roof I went to the local Radio Shack which sold a few instruments, and bought a recorder, an "Aulos" which I practiced scales on. I had trouble going from scales to tunes, though. But at least my father told me at first I sounded awful and was starting to sound pretty good. 

While I was Trying To Do The Right Thing(tm) (BTW don't do this) and wasting tons of time in college, as I started to burn out, I started to have fantasies of just learning guitar and just playing and teaching guitar, because in the US guitar is pretty much the default instrument. I finally *did* burn out and motorcycles became my thing. 

Once I was on the mainland, I rode motorcycles a lot (and they're not as super-cool and you'd think, I almost think they ought to be called Nerdcycles) I had fantasies of doing something "really cool" like, if I could play some instrument... I was thinking something like trumpet or clarinet, but was kind of unclear. Just some "cool" instrument. 

Then I met The Moth. I'd gone up to Venice Beach to walk around and enjoy the weirdness, and came upon an old guy who looked like he'd stepped out of the 1940s. He looked like a moth, all brown. He wore a suit, with matching hat, and had a musical instrument in his hands. I stood there with my motorcycle helmet dangling from my hand and gawked. "Is that a clarinet?" I asked, and he said it was. Then he put the mouthpiece in his mouth with a *click* and I saw that his front teeth were worn down, maybe from having a clarinet mouthpiece in there so much. He played, and I don't know what he was playing; probably some old 1940s stuff but the tone was amazing. I continued to gawk, and people kept dropping money in the container he had there. I didn't put any money in, maybe I didn't have any cash, or was too astounded. 

Life wended on, and I became a rising start in that sport I did. I was living in Los Angeles by now and there was a place locally where a guy was restoring pinball machines. He told me about learning guitar. You have to just mechanically practice and practice and practice, and pretty soon it's automated and you can think about higher-level things. 

At one point I was at one of those welcoming things cities hold for athletes, where they do their local songs and dances and so on, and this one was in Barcelona. There was someone playing what I believe was a shawm, a single-reed instrument that's the ancestor of modern reed instruments. I just thought it sounded cool as hell. I wanted one, but had no idea of how to go about finding one. 

When I was done with the sport and living in Scottsdale, Arizona, I actually bought a Buffet B12 (popular beginner clarinet) and I think saw a guy about lessons but I don't remember if I actually took any lessons, and I felt self-conscious about practicing in my apartment. I could have practiced in the park or at the local college or anywhere but I think there was something deeper going on. 

I think to want to practice involves having a belief that one is good enough, that one *can* improve and get places through the simple application of a little work. If a person has had a lifetime of hard work amounting to nothing, which is so often the case in our wonderful modern society and economy, then why try? 

It's not obvious, but I think being a diligent pupil in a musical instrument takes a certain amount of confidence in oneself. I'd been served so much failure in my life that it's hard to be interested in something unless it's just about something I'd do for free anyway. 

So I put myself into the trenches. I picked an instrument that is just damned hard, trumpet, and I practiced and went out there and busked and sounded like hell and would make $5 in an afternoon, and I kept at it. And what really showed me how to practice was the first several months of 2020, when I knew I could not busk, but I could work on solving some things I wanted to solve and work toward some goals, and I achieved all I'd set out to. And now I know I can do it. 

When I was living in Sunnyvale, I could see the 2007-08 crash coming and at one point got a clarinet again and went to Mr. Sowlakis for lessons. But then the crash happened and I wasn't going to be able to make a living on the street with music that soon - it turns out to take some serious time to mature as a busker. I had to sell everything and move and I sold my new clarinet to Mr. Sowlakis for a good markdown of course, and that was that, for the time being. 

The last time I saw him for a lesson he hit my fingers with a pencil so ... I think I can get enough how-to's off of YouTube. I still like him though and once he told me that every time he went to Hawaii (he plays clarinet and sax) he always came back with more money than he'd left with. 

I'm fortunate in that I've ground my way along in this lousy economy long enough that I'm near retirement age. I can rent a room or some kind of small place to live back home and then just busk for day-to-day money and I won't need a lot. $10-$20 a day will be plenty. So the pressure of "you must be a success - or else!" is gone. 

My plan is this: Learn clarinet, and then also, once my skills are up there, learn the soprano sax. Forget all those lower saxes, they're too hard to carry around on a bike or the bus. I've been watching a lot of YouTube videos of soprano, and even higher-pitched, saxes and they sound heavenly. Yeah you can bend the pitch around on a soprano like crazy (it's almost like a shakuhachi) and that's why they caution beginners to stay away from them, but to me that seems more like a feature than a bug. 

The fortunate thing is, as I've mentioned, thanks to Kenny G., Asians are nuts over the soprano sax. So while I might get kicked off of Kalakaua Avenue if I showed up with and alto or a tenor, a soprano ought to be fine, along with of course a clarinet. In fact when I was back there in 03, I actually tried busking with a clarinet, only being able to play a few scales. And I actually got a few dollars. 

In fact, in Mountain View, playing clarinet, I had an old guy hover around who said the clarinet has "such a nice tone". I was out there mainly to play "Harry Truman" by the band Chicago, to help Obama get elected for a 2nd time and it worked.  My home made transverse PVC flute only got an "It's so irritating" from a guy and as for trumpet, a guy, probably a player or teacher, ranted that I was flat or something like that and then quickly corrected himself and said, "But keep going with it!". 

Another thing I'm going to blame is good old alcohol. There's something about the mainland that's really conducive to drinking. If getting a good job, rising up in life, is based on who you know, then how is mainland society supposed to work when it's based on everyone being a stranger? Based on everyone, if they can bring themselves to interact with anyone, it's to use them in some way? It's a frantic, lonely place. No wonder everyone drinks. 

But alcohol is really good for screwing things up. Get home from work, have a couple-few beers, and there goes any "window" for practicing. I didn't do that back in Hawaii. I'd read a book or go over to the college and noodle around on their pianos or something. 

And college was almost as bad as alcohol because it takes up a tremendous amount of time and money, and the more college you go to, the less you make! Then you've got to pay back the money you borrowed, on less pay than you'd make as a high school dropout.

I got 10 things together to list, then settled in with an episode of Ken Burns' "Jazz" and got a little over an hour's practice in. I figured out why my A note didn't sound very good yesterday: I'd been pressing down a key on the back when I needed to press a key on the front. It sounds a lot better that way. 

It was past 3AM when I got to work on the listings, but somehow it was OK because I'd gotten my clarinet practice done.

life's too short for rotten corks

23rd day sober. Up at 2, had gone to bed at almost 7AM, but only woke one time to whiz. I'd eaten a lot of carb-y things last night though like the last of the "night time udon", the last of the 100% buckwheat soba noodles, and a bag of banana chips. That would tend to make my body pause in turning fat into energy + water. 

What's funny is, last night, I'd put the scraps from taking the laboratory potentiometer apart and put them in the bag I'd carried the clarinet home in, out by the trash enclosure and sure enough, a car, a Mercedes, pulled up next to it at 3AM and the driver got out and grabbed it and took off. Mercedes' are more common than you'd think among bums, because even if a given one is 20 years old, it doesn't look that out of date and I guess the cars are built well and last. 

I packed what I needed to pack, made a bit bowl of guacamole and ate it, and was out the door at a quarter after 6. The drop-offs at the post office went fine, and I stopped at H Mart since I didn't need the bike trailer, and did some shopping. There was a guy passed out by the front, not right in front but off to the side, who I honestly thought was the Vietnamese homeless guy who used to camp in front of the electric lighting place and I'd kind of befriended. So I got a bottle of Coke and an extra bag of peanuts for him, too. 

Once done I put things away in the bike bags and set up a little bag of stuff for the guy, the Coke and peanuts, some band-aids I had floating around in my bike bags, a can opener, etc. I went over and the guy was sitting up, and gave it to him. It was not the guy, but another guy who honestly looked pretty close. He asked me if I have a blanket and I said I didn't, but that they toss out a lot of cardboard out back and it can be pretty warm stuff - put a few layers under you and some over you, and also plastic bags. 

I rode back here and put things away, and got the Yamaha trumpet out and the stuff I was going to use to replace the pads on Tom's trumpet plus a bunch of sheet music, a fingering guide, and some exercises I had printed out and put in sheet protectors. 

I rode over to Tom's and handed him the sheet music first and he was really happy to get it. "For me?!?" I said it certainly was. And I told him the Recycle Book Store on the Alameda is a good place to pick up music books. 

I took some cardboard and made a cover for one of the 55-gallon drums he had sitting out front, as a working surface, and asked him to get his horn out. I looked at the pads, and they actually looked OK. They actually look like they're made of some artificial substance and look like they're sealing just fine. 

We played a bit, I figured out that riff from "Baker Street" and messed around with other things, and Tom did things like, "let's go from low C to 'high' C (high but in the staff) and back down" and we did that, except his fingering was funny or he was bending the notes or something, so he's going to have to work on his major C scale. I did chromatic scales from the bottom up to high C and back, and the usual noodling around. 

So we played a bit, but Tom was at least as interested in shooting the shit as playing, but as far as I'm concerned that's OK at this stage, as I don't want to push him too hard. Eventually he offered me dinner as he'd gotten some tofu soup with noodles at H Mart (I'd come just as he was taking a bunch of H Mart groceries in) and since there wasn't any way to eat it (no 2nd bowl) and his "kitchen" area leaves much to be desired in terms of cleanliness I said I'm OK. 

Eventually it got boring watching Tom eat, so I said I was taking off and that he ought to work on basic stuff like "Saints" and "Amazing Grace" because the public likes something simple that's well-played more than something more advanced that we flub on. And I rode back here. 

 I ate a bunch of snack foods and two stalks of raw celery and even had a can of coffee (I'm very cautious about bringing coffee back into my life). 

I rounded up my trumpet/cornet books that I'd just slapped onto Ebay and shakuhachi books too except for the first Koga book because that one's got all I need for, well, years at least. My thinking is I'll go to the Recycle Book Store, myself, get trade credit for them, and go through their music section for clarinet books. I'd not mind finding at least the first Rubank book, and the two Getchell-Hovey books of etudes. I remember Mr. Sowlakis had me get the Getchell-Hovey books and was just going to teach me out of those.

Before I knew it, it was about 2AM so I found a somewhat interesting documentary about Chris Farley and halfway watched it while practicing the clarinet. Went a few more pages in the book, learned a couple new notes (B and A) and got in a bit over an hour's practice. That's the main thing: Get in that practice, at least an hour, every day.

Whew Sunday

 22nd  day sober. I didn't go to sleep until 7AM and woke up around 1:30 and got up around 2. I was pretty tired up from the hour or so of walking, all the time on the light rail, the things I did in Mountain View, and then all the commotion with Ken being here in the evening. By the time Ken was gone, it was all I could do to cook up the 2nd serving of "night time" spicy udon with the last of the shrimp and fish cake, list Ebay stuff, then try to get sleepy and go to bed. 

I did plenty of reading on, well, clarinetty things last night though. I'd thought Doreen Ketchens, "The Clarinet Queen" was a flutist who'd only changed to clarinet after years on the flute. Nope. She was a clarinetist from the beginning. And she was on-track from early age to become a classical clarinetist, until her boyfriend-to-become-husband, egged her into trying out playing on the street. Then she kept getting humiliated by her relative inability to play jazz, so she worked hard on jazz. That hard work sure paid off because she's great! 

I also learned that my student clarinet and #2 reeds are just the beginning and over the years, better equipment can make a huge difference. One teacher mentioned a student who sounded terrible, and the teacher discovered him playing on a stock student Buffet mouthpiece. He handed the kid a Fobes to play while he told the kid's parents to buy him a "5RV Lyre" which the kid started using and was doing "4-octave exercises" in no time. Gee, and I thought I sounded all right on a #2...

I left here at 3, dropped off some trash on 6th street in a trash can there, dropped off some books, band-aids, and some masks Ken had insisted I take, in the little free libraries. 

I went to Dai Thanh and got some raw peanuts and a can of fizzy water and some money back, and went over to Da Kao and got some little dumpling things and some boiled peanuts for $5. There was a bum ahead of me in line who was trying to get his (stolen?) card to work, and I guess eventually paid the guy in bum-change, I'm not sure. So the guy first totaled my purchases up to $7.50 then did some things and it came to $5. Maybe he was glad to have a decent person instead of yet another bum, come into his store. 

I ate over on the college campus and had some asshole in a car (by definition, though, if you're driving a car you're an asshole) honk at me so of course I flipped him off. The cowards never want to step out of their multi-thousand-pound death tanks and have a fair fight. Johnny Law is still around too much but if things get spicy, there are going to be a lot of cars burning, I'll see to that. 

So as I was eating on campus, I saw some campus bike cops go by, and thought, they ought to go undercover; they'd catch all kinds of baddies in cars. 

I left by way of 3rd street and rode past the 7-11 with its usual couple of crazy zombies gyrating around out front, then realized I needed to stop at the Amazon place to pick up the scissors I'd bought. A couple of days ago, one of my pairs of scissors had disappeared. I finally just ordered another pair on Amazon and figured I'll take the pair I keep upstairs, downstairs and just use those. Of course once I'd ordered a replacement pair the "lost" pair re-materialized in my cooking utensils drawer. I use scissors heavily enough that I wear them out, so I'll be glad I'd ordered this 3rd pair in a year or two. 

So I picked those up and some bubble mailers, passed the zombies again who were really whooping it up (I saw quite a few really "gone" zombies today) and rode over to Nijiya for a bit of shopping, and got back here. I'd been out an hour and a half. 

After wasting time watching a bunch of dumb stuff on YouTube and having some snacks, I finally turned to a halfway-boring documentary about WWII and got the clarinet out and figured out how to put it together. I blew into it and ... nothing. I finally got a low note (I was holding all the keys down) and gradually got where I could make it make a sound. I started in on the band book and learned notes C,D, E, F, and G, besides a few I got by randomly trying out pressing different keys. I got a few pages in on the band book and worked out "Saints" and "Amazing Grace". 

I'd had to sand down the cork on the Fobes mouthpiece first though, to get it all together. They're always generous with the cork on those. And the reed I had seems to work fine. Everyone tends to get the orange-box Ricos because they're a bit cheaper or something, but the pale blue box ones are considered quite good and worth shelling out a little more for. I may be on a beginner clarinet with a beginner mouthpiece and a #2 reed, but I think I had it sounding pretty good. (Mr. Sowlakis had told me in the distant past when I took a few lessons from him that I had good tone.) 

The last time I'd played, and tried busking with, a clarinet I didn't have months of at least an hour a day of practice on it, or anything, under my belt. I feel like all the trumpet practice did me a lot of good and not least to convince me that there's nothing like regular practice to make progress. 

So I got in at least an hour, keeping time by that old WWI documentary, and that's enough for today. 

I also printed out a trumpet fingering chart for Tom, and got together my replacement corks and some Q-tips and tools and such, because tomorrow night I'm going to replace the corks on the spit valves on his trumpet, so he won't be limited by those, since he said they're in pretty bad shape. I'd told him how I've gotten pretty good at replacing corks and take a dim view of how much the repair guys charge for this simple operation. 

I had fun blasting some super high notes too - it doesn't take nearly as hard a push as it does on trumpet. I feel like, with plenty of work, I'll be able to go just about anyplace with this thing. And I might be right, as it, or a soprano sax, can be played quietly or not, can be heard above a crowd or played really soft and mellow. And Asians are fond of both instruments, after all, the king of Thailand plays the clarinet, and Kenny G. (however you feel about Kenny G.) is hugely popular in Asia. 

I had some dinner, took apart a precision potentiometer no one wants to pay anything for, and listed the parts along with some other stuff.

It still seemed like a good idea

 21st day sober. I'd been up until 4AM, decided it's sleepy time, had my melatonin and less water which meant I only got up 3 times in the process of getting my sleep in, instead of what, 5? It's been nuts lately. 

One of the things about the "keto" diet is, people have observed that they're "pissing their fat away". I'd not say I'm following much of a keto diet these days, what with the noodles and banana chips, but I'm not guzzling 2 liters of sweet wine per 24 hours so there's that. 

I got up at 1:30. Last night I'd done a lot of reading around online, looking into Yamaha clarinets. A sax would be an ideal busking instrument, at least if I were to ask the ever-stylish Leroy. 

But I did not feel ready to try an alto sax. I'd rented one from Park Avenue Music and the thing just had so many buttons on it and was so much bigger than a trumpet, it didn't enthuse me. But a clarinet; I've played some clarinet. And it's in Bb just like a trumpet and has a few buttery low notes the trumpet can't do. 

I looked on Craig's List and there are a few Yamaha ones around, with various degrees of used-ness, and one with some kind of receipt for work done on it, maybe from when Clinton was on office it was hard to tell.

West Valley Music showed two Yamahas, a Buffet, and interestingly, a Yamaha 250 "new back stock" for $400. Considering that a new Yamaha student clarinet is over a thousand, it sounded pretty good. 

The thing is, if I'm going to teach Tom Price how to busk, I don't want to go back to working on trumpet because I'm done with trumpet. The high abdominal pressure needed, the tiniest flaw in my lip making my high notes a bit rougher no matter what else I've done to optimize my high note playing, the spit valves, the way nastiness can get down into that tubing and hide in there... I'm just done with it. 

Clarinet, I thought, is easy to carry on a bike, is in Bb the same as trumpet, and maybe all the trumpet practice I've done would make this already easy instrument even easier. So I went to bed. 

When I woke up it still seemed like a good idea. So I called up West Valley Music in Mountain View and asked if they had the back-stock Yamaha 250 and the gal I talked to couldn't find it. I said I'd come over anyway, as I'd noticed they had a couple of used Yamahas which she said they indeed had, so I'd come over and look around. 

So at straight-up 3 I left here, walking. It took me 25 minutes to walk to the light rail station, and the trains (I had to change trains to go to Mountain View) got me to Mountain View at 4:30. Perfect. 

I walked over to West Valley Music and asked about the B-stock Yamaha. The gal had still not found it but ... the owner was there. She said she'd just had her hands on it a few days ago, and started looking for it. I said I'm happy to stay around while they look, and picked out a band book (yeah band books are kinda lame but it's something to get going on) and a "care kit" and told a gal trying out a uke that yes, indeed, her uke was in tune "My dad taught me how to tune one when I was 6 and I never forgot". 

Lo and behold, the owner found the Yamaha in question. She said she'd been looking at it a week or so before and wondered how she was going to sell it. I said that indeed there are Yamahas out there on Craig's List and so on for $250 or so but then it involves dealing with weird Craig's List people and you don't know what the clarinets have *really* been through. Easier to just go with new. 

Since it was no difference in price, I got a Fobes Debut mouthpiece, and she sold me a Rovner ligature for $20 and even marked down the care kit by a third. And only charged me $20 for a box of 10 reeds. I mentioned Park Avenue would charge almost $40 for the reeds and she was astonished and I said, "But then they've got all those band kids; a captive audience". The clarinet even came in the smaller type of case, and the owner said she was really disappointed when Yamaha went to a larger type of case that's harder to carry.

All in all it came to $501 which I can afford. She even found a bag from some high-priced Waikiki resort which I joked about, having grown up in Hawaii and never, of course, having been there. Perfect for carrying a clarinet and things. 

So now I had all I need. I even got to listen to some really crappy sax playing, as a trumpeter (or his girlfriend who was with him, not sure) was buying an alto sax. And the gal I'd reassured was playing an in-tune uke, play some fancy chords. 

I walked up the street a bit to look around at how Mountain View had changed. The bead place has antiques now, so I'll have to check it out when it's open. Easy Foods is still going, and what's really neat is, most of Castro Street is closed off to cars now. So there were lots of people walking around freely, instead of being prey. 

I went to Maru Ichi for some ramen and got ... ramen. Nothing special at all. That place used to really be something - kim chi at the tables, and the ramen came with lots of neat stuff in it especially their signature one. But what I got was very ordinary and if I wanted extra seasoning the choices were both salt and pepper. 

After ramen I walked around a bit more, in the direction of the train station. There was one busker, a blonde middle-aged gal with a microphone and amp, singing to backing tracks she had on her phone. She was singing "Puff, The Magic Dragon" and getting no tips at all. 

I got talking with her (I'm not sure she isn't the same gal who sang stuff like "How Much (arf! arf!) Is That Doggie In The Window" back in the days when the Mountain View farmer's market was a great place for buskers) and she said she makes maybe $5 in an afternoon. I said she ought to get a ukulele or guitar to give her hands something to do, or hold the mic in her hand so it's more obvious she's singing. She holds still and sings with her head down (because she's looking at the lyrics on her phone) and that's the thing - you need to have lyrics down cold to sing a song. I said that busking seems to involve tons and tons of "paying your dues" and I'd certainly spend many afternoons only making $5 or so. 

I walked the rest of the way to the train station and got on the light rail that was waiting there. I'd helped a gal get off on the right stop to go to Grocery Outlet (and told her about the big Mexican market around the corner from there) on the way to Mountain View, and on the way back helped some Indian folks who seems to know the ins and outs of light rail travel, but didn't know the press the thing to request a stop, so I pressed it for them for the next stop and explained how that system works and that they'll just have to take another train back to their intended stop. 

I got off at good old Karina station (the McDonald's is closed and the site for sale, likewise the skeezy hotel next door) and went into the little convenience store by the gas station in search of non-alcoholic beer of which they had none. The Indian guy there was suspicious of the bag I had, on my way out, so I showed that it was full of clarinet stuff which he highly approved of. I'd looked around for anything I might want to buy but $5 for a jar of dip and almost that much for chips was not to my liking. 

I walked back to here (still some brassica buds to pick out there) and saw Ken's truck in front of here. Ken was here because his wife, Suzy, "is on a cleaning rampage" back at their house. So Ken stashed things away and re-arranged things, and I flattened the boxes he'd brought and stashed them away, and we ended up having tea and talking about things. It was a pretty nice visit.

Friday, May 21. Ghost kitchen's given up the ghost

20th day sober. I did the usual routine last night; went to bed around 5 or 6 AM, woke up around 2 PM, got all the things packed and headed out for the post office and FedEx a bit after 6. Besides my vitamins and some nuts (sunflower seeds) I had a couple of scrambled eggs before leaving so I'd not be tempted to buy food somewhere. 

The drop-offs went fine, and I picked up some "foam core" behind FedEx, which comes in handy at times. I stopped at the storage unit and picked up a bunch of small things to list, so I'll have things to list over the weekend. 

I'd noticed Tom was in front of his place breaking down more wood stuff, so while on the way out I'd just gone right by (and he didn't seem to notice me) after I was done at the storage unit I went over and hung out with him for a bit. He'd used the trumpet oils and stuff I'd left for him, and has his trumpet back to "100%". He's still keen to get up to speed and get out busking, so I think I might have something going here. 

I reiterated that my Yamaha is for sale, and Tom asked about a few makes of student trumpets he'd seen on Craig's List I guess, and I said that yeah, anything by Olds is good, the Olds Ambassador is fine, but really, if he's got his trumpet working right, it should be all he needs for at least the next year if not longer. I told him about my cheapie $220 shakuhachi which may not be perfect, but is all I'll need for at least the next year or two. 

We discussed songs to work on. I said you can't be a busker without a good "Amazing Grace", so that went on the list. Likewise "It's A Wonderful World" by Louis Armstrong, and I mentioned "St James Infirmary" which I can play so melodramatically it's sad and hilarious at the same time. I said we can do things like alternate playing then play in unison, in a song. That would wow 'em. 

He asked what instrument I would play if be busked together. I said if we're going to busk in 2 weeks, I'd play my Yamaha trumpet. But if we're going to busk in 2 months, I'd consider renting a sax and give that a try; that while I'd gotten a handle on how the pros play, high abdominal pressure and low pressure on the lips (as opposed to students who get into the trap of using too much mouthpiece pressure) I'd gotten that straightened out, but that I'd decided trumpet is just too hard on my system. 

I'd already decided, I told him, that the shakuhachi is perfect for Hawaii, as the ruling class there is Japanese and it's highly regarded by that group. But, if for some reason my dream of moving back to Hawaii never happens for some reason, I'd definitely choose the sax because hardly anyone on the mainland knows what a shakuhachi is. 

I got back here and put things away and cooked up a pork ramen from a kit from H Mart and as usual it came out really good. It's a little bit expensive, coming out to $2.50 and that's not counting the cost of the pork I put in it, but it's a lot cheaper than going to a ramen shop. 

Oh, and as for the title of this post, the "ghost kitchen" up the road has indeed given up the ghost. No more "Neighborhood Kitchens" sign, no more inflatable wiggly green inflatable dancing-around thingie, no nothin'.

Transformers

 19th day sober. Ken came by last night and I got my pay check, $300 this time because our sales are in the toilet right now. 

I sorted and labeled the last of the IC's after cooking dinner (some "night time soba" from a kit from H Mart, which turned out to be spicy, well, I *did* buy it from a Korean market...) and before I knew it, it was 4AM and that's when a sensible person calls it quits. 

I went to bed at about 6AM and woke up around 2PM, had my vitamins and nuts and so on, and was out the door at 3:35. I dropped off trash one place, a couple of books at one of the little free libraries (it seems the bums have discovered reading and there haven't been any good books in them for at least a month now) and stopped at the main library to drop off a package and a letter. Of course the mail boxes outside aren't working; no doubt the zombies infesting the park next to the post office try to break into them with regularity, shit in them, etc. So I locked up the bike and went inside. 

All in all my ride downtown was pretty uneventful with only one actual threat to my life. As I was riding away from the post office, some asshole in a large truck objected to my ... existing ... and honking the horn and cussed, to which I replied with a loud and enthusiastic "FUCK YOU!!" and "the bird" and then "FUCK YOU WITH A BULLET" and the old shooting with a gun hand gesture. 

I got to the bank and did my deposit and mentioned how I was lucky with only one attempt to kill me on the way over there, and mentioned it's not time for me to start "carrying" yet, but when it comes to that point I'm ready. The lady there asked if I'd really shoot someone, and I brightened up and like a kid describing a prospective trip to Disneyland, said, "I sure will! With enthusiasm!". 

I keep brainstorming ways that are easy for Joe Schmoe to build, that can be used to destroy cars. I keep trying to think of EMP methods and so on, and the one advantage of those is, if you can fry every semiconductor in a car you've pretty much totaled it, and done right, the car will look normal (may reek a bit from burning semiconductor packaging) so it'd be easier to get off scot-free. 

But really, it's heard to beat good old gasoline. Each car coming with the fuel to immolate it. I think the idea would be something that can be tossed into a car window you've broken using a piece of ceramic, some sort of gasoline bomb. Even a water balloon full of gasoline and a lit cig tossed in right afterward would do it. 

Of course if a car full of zombies is chasing you and you're packing, and "turn off" the zombies, I guess it's best to pile them into their Zombiemobile then get out the gas and burn the whole thing. Can't have the zombie virus spreading. 

These people who charge around in 1000s of lbs of metal because they're too lazy to walk or ride a bike and too cowardly to step outside their iron cage and fight fair, are going to find the coming times quite interesting and not in a good way. As the Nazis found out with their tanks in urban areas, cars are really quite vulnerable. 

After I was done at the bank, I really had to use the bathroom so I went up to the SoFa marketplace thing and used it there; that's what I get for drinking so much tea. Then I went to the Amazon place and picked up some bubble mailers and the respirator I bought in preparation for when the air turns red. 

I left the bike there for a few minutes while I walked to the 7-11 on the opposite corner to see if they stock O'Douls. There was a zombie standing out front talking to the voices and holding out a quarter, which it dropped. "Heads or tails," I said as I walked in. They didn't have O'Douls though. That 7-11 doesn't sell alcohol (it'd be a real nightmare around there if it did) and O'Douls is a Budweiser product. 

I rode from there to Nijiya and did some shopping and got $10 cash back. I'll just get some O'Douls from TAK Market even if it's pretty high priced from there. But TAK Market was closed today. Considering the neighborhood, probably recovering from a stickup and pistol-whipping or something. So I rode home. At least I've got some fizzy lemon-lime at home. 

It was windy as hell today, to the extent that the wind would blow my bike backwards when it was locked in front of Nijiya, only being stopped by the chain. The ride home was mostly just a bit over walking speed. Every account of what the End Times will be like mentions that it will be very windy and so far the predictions are true. 

I got back here and put things away and had the bowl of cold soba noodles with pork and shrimp I'd bought, but since it was cold the broth had jelled so after eating the goodies off of the top I put boiling water in to warm it up, then it was fine. I have a real weakness for soba. 

IC's

 18th day sober. As is becoming normal around here (I wish it weren't) I went to bed about 6AM and woke up around 2PM. 

I'd gotten involved listing some IC's last night and it takes forever to sort them and make sure all of a group of tubes of the same IC have about the same amount, then make little labels for them and sticking them on. Originally I had 3 large things to list and just filled it out with IC's but got so involved with the ICs decided to do just ICs and put the big things aside, because while the IC's are a pain in the ass to count and label, once they're done the listing goes quickly. 

I hope Tom found the trumpet stuff and it encouraged him. I've told him I'll sell him my Yamaha for $300 with the case (besides the case it came in) which is a good deal. And that I'll take the Yamaha with me next Monday so he can hear how it sounds. I can always keep the cornet for Taps duty and when I leave for back home, donate it to San Jose Jazz. 

And if Tom goes for it, if I'm smart I'll spend that $300 with Mejiro on their Shakuhachi Yuu and a book deal that's still cheaper - all the way from Japan - than the local supplier who got burned out in the last summer fires. 

I finally got out the clippers and gave myself a much-needed haircut. It used to be nice to go to the barber shop but with tip I was giving them something around $14 or $15, and there's something magic about having my hair cut with a clipper that hasn't been used on 30 other guys just that day. I wish I'd asked what kind of little electric razor they used for the fuzz on my neck which for some reason the fancy clipper I have doesn't cut, but I've found using a "shavette" which is a sort of little straight razor thing, works fine on the fuzz. I just lather the area up and shave it off. 

 

 

May 18th the ... day after tax day?

 17th day sober. I went to sleep at almost 6AM last night/this morning and woke up at about 2 in the afternoon which is about 8 hours. I packed a couple more things, and after tea and vitamins and nuts, fixed up a big egg salad and ate that. 

I took off at about 6 and did the post office run. Ebay's big bugaboo seems to be with shipping times, and the only way to really improve those is to ship every day even if it's not that many things. 

The post office featured a Black zombie staggering and talking to itself but it was surprisingly well-behaved once it saw I had my "explainer" handy. It even wandered out of the post office, out front, and then down the street to do ... zombie stuff I guess. 

I stopped at H Mart and got a bunch of stuff yet it was still only $18 and change; shopping's a lot cheaper when alcohol's not involved. 

I stopped by Tom's place on the way back and dropped off a trumpet cleaning snake, valve oil, slide grease, and a brand new tube of Blistex which he might find handy. Tom's truck was there but he didn't seem to be so he was off walking around or riding his bike, so I just put the stuff in the mail slot as I said I would. 

Tom had apparently gotten the 3X4's loose from the rest of the lumber, and has a big messy pile of the other pieces by his front door, and nails. just. everywhere. After I'd left last night, he probably got some lights out, got his drink on, and just obsessively worked on it. That's how he'd ended up getting all those little animal figurines he'd ordered on Ebay - gotten super drunk, ordered the things, then in the morning wondered why there were all these boxes on his front yard. He had no memory of having bought them. 

Still, he has trumpet experience, was in concert band in high school, and I'd love to not only see him get into it but see someone compete with that awful "Trumpetman" downtown who Sharks fans have to endure hearing, under the bridge, as they walk to and from games. 

I came back here along Bayshore so I could look and see how much of the Smithfield complex was turned into rubble. The answer is: All of it. And the piles of rubble are being hauled off too. On the way there I'd passed a nasty looking scumsucker who didn't seem interested in hassling me either because it was on the way to meet its crack dealer, or the fact that I keep the ol' "explainer" in my hand, or both. 

This is why I hope once the Smithfield complex is all cleaned up, construction starts right away. That will mean security patrols will be a continuing thing. The alternative is scumsucker problems again. The thing with scumsuckers is first, they're batshit crazy. An example is "Crazy Chrissie" who was convinced I was part of a secret cabal devoted to tossing rocks at her truck right when she's servicing a john, causing him to go limp and Crazy Chrissie to not get that luscious crack rock. 

You can have no interactions with a scumsucker at all, but they'll be convinced you're out to get them because a voice out of their cigarette pack told them to, or an imaginary face in the clouds, or anything the crack-addled mind can imagine. I think it's somewhat akin to the mentally ill people who believe in "gang stalking" like there are actually groups of people with nothing better to do than follow them around, "zap" them with some kind of electrical beams, etc. Batshit crazy. This is why decent people who have any common sense strive to have no interactions with scumsuckers, ever. 

I decided to get my evening going by packing things, and for some reason Ebay "won't accept payment" for things sent by the US Postal Service. I called Ken and asked him what kind of financial trouble he was in now, and he said he wasn't in any, but had a "whole" $250 in his PayPal which "should" be enough. Since I'm so far ahead on shipping now, if the situation isn't resolved by tomorrow, Ken will take the USPS packages and ship them from his personal account from the house. I just don't get how I can make 1/10th what Ken does and have about 10X the financial reserves. 

But this just points out that things can go all 1929 around here at any time and probably, as in 1929, with little warning.

May 17 Tax Day

 16th day sober. I went to sleep around 6AM and woke up around 2. I saw one of the security cars lurking around here last night so I guess they're still going to be around for the time being. The Smithfield complex is pretty much just a few piles of rubble now. I guess if someone starts building something there, there will be security for that so we'll continue to benefit. 

The other day I looked around for a suitable gig bag to carry a shakuhachi around in for busking, and it turns out the Protec Pro Pac is "the" one, just like it is for trumpet. The others are either shoddy or overpriced or high-priced and higher quality than  I need. I mean, of course, soprano sax cases. But I'm not trying to protect a $5k Yanagisawa here. A soprano sax case is a pretty decent fit for a standard 1.8 shakuhachi and would probably work for a 2.0 also. 

But I've not even been practicing. I was drinking so heavily I just kind of sluffed off practicing, and then it was the domoic acid poisoning, getting "dry", then that 2nd covid shot, whew! I've just been learning to live sober. 

Most of the time I've been on the mainland, I've been a drinker. It may have been a half bottle of wine, or a pine of Guinness Stout in the evening, but I remember morning beers and mid-day beers and all sorts of things. Drinking is just part of mainland culture - no one's here to make friends, family means nothing, it's just work-work-work and alienation. Not wonder alcohol is pushed everywhere and almost everyone drinks.  

I muddled through my taxes, it seems they want to see schedules 1, 2, 3 and good old C is back although I didn't use it. Schedule SE has become a lot more complicated. I did my best but came up with my only owing $1085 which is just weird. I packaged up all the forms and my check and called it done. At least it's before it's overdue, and I'll just expect a letter with a bill for about $1700 more from the IRS which I'll just pay. I'll have to give myself more time next year, as I really thought I could just crib off of my 2019's but they changed things quite a bit. 

After the post office, which was quite busy, I stopped a H Mart for some grocery shopping. 

On the way back I stopped by the old shop to see if the kitchen cabinet place next door had left behind any good packing material and they had. Tom was out in front of his place, taking some wooden tile display structures apart. I said I'll be back in a few, rode back to the shop and put the groceries away, hitched up the bike trailer, and headed back up to Tom's, dropping of some trash on the way. 

I loaded the trailer up with packing stuff, then hung out with Tom for a bit. I'd also grabbed my cornet and figured I'd see if he even remembered my urging him to do some practice on his trumpet. He had. I played bits of things, sounding terrible mostly, and eventually got him to get his trumpet out, and he blew a bit and has a good sound. In fact, he's pretty enthusiastic about busking. I told him about all the time I'd put in, making utter shit money, but I'd kept on going. That I'd put in so much time, and would like to pass on what I know. 

So Monday evenings are going to be a trumpet get-together and practice a bit, to get Tom up to speed and then, in a few months when this virus has settled down, we'll go out busking.

Tom's really enthusiastic about this. He told me about how he felt such a "link" with people when he was out hustling these little animal figurines he was hustling on Fisherman's Wharf but to me what he was doing was a turn-off. He'd zero in on little kids and then guilt their parents into paying for the little figurines. It really was not ethical at all. Even the "I know where you got your shoes" guys in New Orleans don't pull their scam on kids, expecting their parents to tip, that I know of. 

I told him how busking is even better because you get a wide variety of people, and I've had kids running around in a frantic circle around me while I played, had people get in tears, had people of all ages and backgrounds give me tips, at times large ones. It's just a lot better. 

He was tearing down these tile display things because he says he gets about $10 for the 3X4's in them so he had $40 worth there but it takes hours and hours to take one apart. "That's an hour playing outside Whole Foods" I remarked. 

Finally it was almost 8:30 so I left. I got back here and fixed up a bowl of udon with shrimp and that was dinner. I packaged some pork I'd bought and put that in the freezer.

By this time it was pretty late so I rounded up 10 things to put on Ebay.

Pretty good sleep

 15th day sober. I woke up a few times to pee but went to sleep again immediately. I slept in until 3 so I think it's time to taper back on the melatonin. 

It was nice sleeping in (and getting in and out of) my nice new fresh sleeping bag. It cost me $30 and while Big-5 used to have deals it seems the last time I got one there they'd ended that and everything was at or near list. I expect this to continue, as it gets harder to get things from Asia. 

I went on Amazon just now and got one of those respirator things that painters and guys who shape surfboards and so on wear, for when the air turns grey and then yellow and then orange and then red, and I have to go out and put in my hours on the bike in it. I also need to get either a ready-made air purifier or rig one up, for inside the office here. Last year I just breathed the crappy air and didn't feel anything from it but now I'm taking the longer view, that I've got to avoid the harmful effects of living here as much as possible, in preparation for the move back home in the best possible health. 

I waited until it was dark and walked up to the big dumpster in front, usually locked up but I'd noticed was unlocked, and put the old sleeping bag in there. I'd have done it last night but there was a zombie fucking around with one of those homemade carts they like, with tiny wheels, and being defeated by the tiny bump of the driveway in the front of the complex. I rode right on by, leaving him to cuss and bumble around. 

But at 10 O'clock tonight there were no zombies staggering around and I was able to get rid of it and two Uline catalogs with no problems. I could have left the sleeping bag, which I'd put into a plastic bag, out by the trash enclosure and let some bum pick it up, but I believe that's "aiding and abetting the enemy" and certainly not something I want to do. 

The Smithfileld ham factory is no more. Even the main building is now just a pile of rubble. Once everything's rubble-ized and it's all cleaned away, I don't know if there will be the security guys coming through any more and that means possibly more scumsucker problems. 

Breakfast had pretty much been a head of broccoli that I needed to use up, and had steamed and eaten with mayo. Pretty good! And dinner had been an experiment with pork chunks dipped in tempura batter and fried which was pretty good but not worth the effort. 

At least I downloaded the tax forms I need to do my taxes, and packed the few orders that had come in.

Got the sleep thing licked

 14th day sober. I probably went to sleep around 6AM, and woke up around 2, was up around 3. I'd slept through the night without getting up even once. 

I listed some microscope parts last night and I see that one has sold already. That's good. 

I got out of here around 4, and after dropping off some trash over on 6th I parked the bike at Nijiya and went in and got some stuff, including a chashu don bowl that was only about $6, and a bottle of fizzy water. I walked over to the nice peaceful Issei building to eat, and it was really good since I'd not had one in, well, at least a year. The red pickled ginger in it reminded me of when I was a kid and used to get Yick Lung picked ginger because a packet of it lasted me a long time, as something to snack on. 

I visited the little free libraries and dropped off a couple packages of smoked saki ika. I apparently didn't notice it when I was drinking but the stuff makes my B.O. worse. And I don't like how much sugar they put in it anyway. 

I really had to use the bathroom though so I went to the "SoFa" food court and used the bathroom there. My friend wasn't there at The Fountainhead so there was no point in stopping there for something non-alcoholic, so I was done there. 

I rode around a bit just for fun, but other than the surprise of Bicycle Express being open, there wasn't really anything going on. I did score a couple bunches of celery that were in a box along with potatoes and a yam, out front. 

Then I went over to the Amazon place, picked up bubble mailers and the new sleeping bag I'd ordered just a day or so ago. Then it was just a matter of riding home. All  the time I was out, it had been half-sunlight at most. This area is starting to get what in Southern California is called "June gloom" where it's like this in June.

More actual sleep

 13th day sober. I took that microscope apart and had like 25 different parts to list, listed about 12 of them and since it was 4AM decided it was time to quit.

Before starting all that I'd taken half of the $8 package of shrimp I'd bought at Nijiya, 5 shrimp, and made my interpretation of a shrimp basket. Well, those shrimp were actually really big, bigger than I think I've gotten from any restaurant or shrimp truck. And they were tigers too, which go for more for some reason. 5 of them with some fried garlic made a hell of a meal. I'd put a light coat of tempura flour on them and fried in peanut oil and they were really good! So, for $4, I had a better shrimp basket than I can get anywhere around here... 

I finally went to sleep around 6AM, expecting to wake up around 2. I woke up twice I think, at least one of those times to whiz, but it was a nice feeling waking up around 11AM and telling myself I can sleep 3 more hours and doing so. I woke up a bit after 2, maybe 2:30. Not bad! It's really good to have my sleep mechanism back. I'd taken the maximum dose of melatonin but I don't know if that's making any difference. I'm just taking it to use up the expensive bottle of melatonin I'd bought. Waste not! 

I'm really enjoying this not-drinking thing. For instance, in the evening, with all the sitting I do, my legs would swell a bit. This might be why, at first, I was getting up to pee so much. Fluid accumilates in the legs during the day/evening, then when lying down the pressure isn't on it to stay down there and it gets processed out as pee. Well, I've noticed my legs are staying lean. 4AM, whatever, I look at them and they're looking like serious bike-rider legs. 

I also notice I have the feeling of having tons of extra time. I guess I have the same time, but not being doped up on alcohol, it just seems like I get things done. And I don't feel the same angst over having to do the things. 

I'd told myself, long before giving up drinking, that I want to be a lot less angry person, who doesn't take it so personally if I can't find a thing that needs to be shipped, and had made some progress there which is good. But not drinking makes this real. The things are there, in the warehouse, and if something gets lost, just come to some compromise with the buyer, like offering something else. That's what I did about that stupid Thaler manual. I asked the guy if there's some other manual he wanted and to make me a lowball offer for the difference in price, he did so, I sent it out, and everyone's happy. (Plus if I find that damned Thaler manual I might just send it to him anyway just to get the damned thing out of here.) 

I'm quit of coffee too, my breakfast drink being sen-cha green tea. I think it's absolutely magical that I can buy green tea from Shizuoka, where as the package says, "Mt. Fuji stands". Not to say chicory coffee isn't wonderful, but green tea's nice and easy to make, and I don't have to bother with creamer. 

I am moving further away from the realm of the hungry ghosts. Take your typical scumsucker, they're addicted to alcohol, cigarettes, and anything else they can get ahold of. So their life is a continual struggle to the next cigarette, the next Steel Reserve or other cheap rotgut beer. Plus they seem to be addicted to drama, which is an addiction all its own. So there's continual fighting, which I had a first-row seat to when the scumsuckers were living in the parking lot here. Ramming their vehicles into each other, fist fights, lighting each others' stuff on fire, etc. 

Well, being dependent on alcohol was the first step in this, as I was living for the next drink, even if it was just a little wine to keep the shakes away, and work came 2nd. I was living each day for the time in the evening when I was done working and could drink until I passed out. Maybe it's a pale shadow of the scumsucker's life but it was still pretty much the same thing. 

Dr. Cyrus Loo told me when I was just barely entering adulthood to "not be attached to anything" and that certainly rings true with regard to alcohol and I'm glad I never took up smoking cigarettes. 

I packed the two packages that need to go out today and checked the Morris Berman blog. It's blocked, as this site was also. I submitted some kind of report to Google and it seems  I can go back here, my own blog, but about Morris Berman, I don't know. 

This is why as soon as my 3-year "sentence" is up and I can get out of here, I do **not** want to depend on the internet for a living. I've had fantasies of collecting shells back home and selling them on Etsy or something but ... no way. I'd be an idiot to engage in anything like that. Busking is where it's at and if I'm going to pick shells, it will be to hustle them to tourists or sell them to shops in person. 

The trip to the post office was uneventful, and I bought a few things in H Mart, and stopped by Lowe's for some paper towels, and had time to stop at Zuka for some banana chips and a "Guinness" malta drink.

When I got back in here and had put things away, I moved the metal shelf I lean up to cover up the mail slot so the scumsuckers can't peek in, and there, hooked up in it, was the letter I clearly remembered the mailman dropping off, but could not find. I opened it and it was a notice from the landlord here that Ken needs to pay them about $1100 due back on the 5th, and the rent will go up by almost $500. I wrote Ken an email about this and then got the idea to call him and did. I told him he might want to stop by tonight after work to pick it up. 

I was just finishing peeling the other 5 shrimp out of that package when Ken drove up. It turns out he'd been over at Togo's nearby and decided to just come on over. He dropped off some stuff to list, and looked over the letter. He says he won't have the money until the 25th or so. I said I could loan him the money but that will be slicing it pretty thin as far as paying my taxes go. He said no to that. It won't be the first time I've lent him money though; a while back there was a $400 water bill to pay and he didn't have it, so I paid it and he paid me back over the next two pay checks. If I have enough after doing my taxes this weekend, though, I'll offer again. 

You'd think a guy making around $200k a year would have more of a buffer. I mean, I make less than 1/10th what he does and I've got about $4k in the bank. The guy just doesn't manage money well. 

I put the peeled shrimp in the fridge and got out an avocado and made a big bowl of guacamole which I ate with banana chips. A nice vegetarian dinner. Then I just watched YouTube stuff for a while, and did little odds-and-ends tasks and pretty soon it was midnight. 

I got out the shrimp and made, I hoped, an even better "shrimp basket". I put everything on a bed of finely shredded cabbage, then fried large garlic slices, then butterflied the shrimp and dipped them in tempura batter and fried them. And indeed it was even better.

Got actual sleep

 12th day sober. Ken came by last night and wrote out a pay check for $350 which is fair, he says he didn't want to go all the way back to $300 but we've not been doing as well. That's fair. Ebay seems to have a real bugaboo about slow shipping so I need to really stay on top of it - our stats show an 11% late shipping rate which is rather awful. 

Ken brought by a lot of neat microscope stuff to list and some other stuff besides. And we talked about restaurants and things. It's funny, Ken had the same 2 shots I did but said he felt no effects from the 2nd one. 

What's funny is, my left shoulder where I got the shot is still sore, warm, and reddish. 

I'm glad I got both shots though and "took one for the team". I'm not quite ready to yet, but if I want to take the train up to the City and visit Fisherman's Wharf I can wear my vaccination pin they were handing out at the vaccination site to put people's minds at ease. 

The main thing I'm happy about today is, I got actual sleep last night. Instead of never really feeling like I slept and looking at the clock after yet another pee and seeing it's only an hour later than the last time I'd looked, instead, I looked at the clock and it would be 3 or 4 hours later. In fact, I remember waking up around 7, then 10, then telling myself I can sleep for 4 more hours and then waking up and it was just a bit after 2. Perfect. I'd read up on sleeplessness after recovering from alcohol dependency and it was kind of scary - was it going to be this way for me for months? 

I had vitamins, nuts, and an avocado, and took off for the bank at about 3:25 for my 4:00 appointment. I got there just in time, just exactly at 4. The bank is just "open" now, I don't have to wait for the guy/gal to let me in, which actually feels odd. I put $700 in because it was last week's check and this week's check. 

Next was the Amazon place where I picked up a surprising number of bubble mailers. 15 at least. 

Next I went to Nijiya and locked the bike there and walked up to the Arsenal where I took a quick look at this artist's cutting mat that's a nice neutral green color. I was looking at the large one to use as an Ebay photography background so I was quickly in and out and the gal there said, "Hi - Bye" and I just chuckled as I went out. 

At Nijiya I got a little bottle of yuzu juice because they're out of the lime juice I usually get, it was $8 but yuzu's really strong so it should only take a few drops to get the same flavoring as a squirt of the lime juice. Maybe I should start looking for citrus out on the streets because it's certainly around and make my own juice. I also got a "school lunch" bento and some shrimp and other odds and ends. I walked back to the art store and bought the large cutting mat.

I packed that all up and rode over to TAK Market for a 6-pack of O'Doul's. Now I know where the tenner I had in my wallet last week went, because a 6-pack of O'Doul's is almost $9 there. That's pretty expensive for a light beery drink. The thing is I like it, it's not cola or lemon-lime soda or tea or anything else and it's refreshing and wholesome. I wish the US adopted the Russian drink "kvass" which is made from (ideally) toasted rye bread and fermented but very low alcohol, like .5% the way O'Doul's is. It's their traditional refreshing summertime drink, and cheap. 

Our Ebay sales are way down which has me a bit worried. One thing has sold, a photo flash lamp, and I'll need to get that right to the post office tomorrow even if it's the only thing. 

I took the microscope apart and sorted out the goodies that were with it also,

Recovered from my 2nd shot

 11th day sober. I seem to have recovered from that 2nd covid shot. The low-grade fever is gone, and I think I actually got a little real sleep. The aches and pains are gone, other than those that result from staying in bed for so long. 

In fact I felt good enough to pack everything that needed to be sent, including an oscilloscope, to take to the post office because while I could hand it all off to Ken, there's a FedEx package that looks just like a USPS package and I can't count on Ken to not be absent-minded and drop that one off at the post office, too. The result being it won't get to the customer and we'll have to issue a refund. 

I loaded up the bike and left a bit after 6. The large complex next to the ex-Smithfield ham factory is now just piles or rubble, thanks to the work of 4 large machines. I'm not sure if they're going to wreck the Smithfield building too. But so much for tons of homeless people setting up a camp in there. 

The drop-offs went without a hitch, and I went to Baba Falafel and got a gyro. One of those is a lot of food. I ate over at the egg-shaped robot place because it's a nice place for a little picnic. I ate about 1/5th of the pita bread and tossed most of it, in strips, to the crows. 

As I was leaving there, a scumsucker rode by and no doubt noticed me. So of course once I was out on Brokaw again, the scumsucker, who'd been heading into their camp on the creek, had found some reason to pass by me again. I had my "explainer" in my bike bag but it was pretty easy to reach back and get it into my hand, and I looked back to see if Mr. Scumsucker was going to come around again for a well-deserved beating. But he seemed to have gone on his merry way. 

I found a good load of packing stuff on the way back, and got in here and put it all away. I'd gone to bed Monday night and stayed there until about noon today, but here I am feeling OK again.

Sleep, what's that?

10th day sober. Last night I finished listing some things on Ebay, and was just starting to feel like I ought to settle down and get to bed early when I found I had a headache, felt chilled, and my teeth even chattered! Plus body aches all over. So I went to bed with the heater pointed toward me on low, and didn't sleep at all but did something that's kind of like sleep where I try to be very quiet and sort of meditate. 

I finally got up around 4:30 because the guy who bought three modules from us is buying the mainframe and will come by to pick it up. He called on the phone to ask what's going on, and I said my 2nd covid shot was kicking my ass and I'll accept his offer for the mainframe and he can come by and pick it up. 

My sleepnessness doesn't have to do with the shot, but with my withdrawal from alcohol. Before, when I got sober, I was always able to get back to that good old sober sleep. But it looks like this time around it's going to take some time. 

I'm reading "This Naked Mind", a book they rave about on the Reddit forums r/stopdrinking r/alcoholism etc., and it's pretty good so far. The author compares drinking to the effect on bugs of the pitcher plant, where they get lured in by what smells like lovely nectar, and go gradually further and further in until there's no return. But this does not mean that people who only drink a little are any different from the most degenerate wino; as long as they think that "on some level" alcohol is beneficial they're in the trap.

Sleep a bit worse

 9th day sober. I'd gone and run around and gotten all that stuff yesterday, to include melatonin drops and took a normal dose, 30 drops to make 3mg before bed and didn't feel sleepy so took 15 more, and didn't sleep worth a damn. It's a weird sleep, where I'm having dreams yet it's like I'm still awake, hearing the industrial sounds around here which normally, frankly, lull me to sleep. 

Dreams like I/we were supposed to meet my Mom at our old Punalu'u place and be sure to ring the bell on the bus to stop in time but somehow the bus driver (who was kind of a crab) drove us up by Kualoa and zoomed around the parking area which was partially dirt-paved (it's not in real life) and was turning around to take a loop around Punalu'u after all.... 

I have to suspect this sleep trouble has something to do with liver damage. With next to no access to health care, all I can do is stay off the sauce and wait and see if things get better. 

I had my vitamins and some almonds and checked up on Ebay, pretty soon it was time to go over to Berger Auditorium for my 2nd shot. Traffic was heavy going over there of course because it was for 2:35 in the afternoon. The line was longer too. I filled out a 2nd consent form and got in line, and it actually moved along OK. 

Pretty soon we were going through the twisty passages inside the building and to where we actually get the shots. I got a nice Indian lady who wiped my arm down very thoroughly, scrubbed it really, had me relax and before I knew it, zip! the shot was done. Kind of the way a wasp or hornet can inject you super quick. It was painless. Even now, hours later, my arm's only a little sore. I guess when you're doing 1000s of vaccinations you get kinda good at it. 

It was really hot and I decided to just do some shopping at H Mart and call it a day as far as going out goes. I got sashimi and TP and routine things, and came back here and had sashimi and the last bit of my last O'Doul's and some pickles. 

Pretty soon a guy who'd bought three things on Ebay just wanted to pick them up, and that actually went pretty easily. I packed a few things and after a while he called and was right outside the door and I just took his three things in a box out to him. A bit over a $1000 sale and then he didn't even sweat the normal shipping charges so we "made" those too. 

Sleep a bit better

 8th day sober. I got up around 2 in the afternoon. I got slightly better sleep, and I guess it's going to go this way, gradually improving until I'm back to regular sleep where I just sleep through the night without getting up or even waking up partway through. 

I remember when I noted that even one beer before bed would mess up my sleep, making me wake up partway through the night. One 12 oz. can of Budweiser, not even a strong IPA or anything as those were not much of a thing back in the 1980s. 

I'd washed the bandana I was using to process kava last night and it was nice and dry today. I folded it up and put it in a bag to take with me. I also put my monthly $30 in an envelope for the temple. I got out of here around 3 or 4, dropped off a bag of trash on the way to Japantown, and parked the bike near Nijiya. I got shelf-stable things like lime juice, some Yunker E-C, odds and ends like that, and a bento and a Japanese non-alcohol "beer" which really doesn't taste like beer but at least it's not sugary soda and it's a dollar cheaper than Pellagrino water. I also gave the bandana to "Blondie" so he can try out the kava I gave him. I told him that whatever kava does, it does in parallel with alcohol and does not replace it, so I'd gotten off alcohol on my own, just using the principles of Dilute, Delay, and put up with some Discomfort.

I put the shelf-stable stuff in the bike bags and walked over to the Issei building with the bento and the "beer" and ate. It was a nice summery day and very pleasant. 

After eating, I rode along visiting three different little free libraries and didn't find any books I wanted but dropped off Detrex emergency rations (which would make a great breakfast cereal with some milk) and the lime juice I'd gotten at H Mart which ... is kinda blah but maybe someone will like it, at each one. 

Then I rode over to Whole Foods and first walked up to CVS where I paid their usual high price for some witch hazel. Then walked back to Whole Foods and got B1, melatonin drops, toothpaste and floss, and wanted to get Brazil nuts but they're more expensive than they are at H Mart and didn't look nearly as good so I passed on those. 

Then it was over to the Amazon place where I picked up the book I'd ordered and 18 bubble mailers. This is the ideal; that I'll only need to dip into the Fry's mailers once in a while, or if I've got some high-dollar thing going overseas, I can put it in a nice Fry's mailer but for most things the Amazon mailers are great. 

I left there thinking, there's a lot of day left and maybe I'll ride around a little just to see if anything's going on. I was riding on Paseo de San Antonio when suddenly there was a great pall of smoke. It seemed to be coming from Santa Clara street so I rode over by there, around back of the building the smoke was pouring out of but there wasn't anything in the parking lot but a crazy zombie staggering around.

So I went around by the front and it was the Nemea greek restaurant. An older couple were standing next to me and I asked them about it and they said they were sitting near the back and then gobs of fire started falling on their table from the ductwork above. "At least you won't have to pay your bill," I said. "We never even got started" he said with some disgust and they went off to find another restaurant. 

There was a crowd of every race and age, all watching the fun. It seems the restaurant got the fire mostly under control on their own but that's deceptive because of course it could be burning away up in the ductwork and layers of offices etc above, and the fire department came roaring in and got ready to really douse the place. One of the firemen came up to the hydrant that was right near us and had this big canvas bag of adapters and fit the right one, opened the hydrant to let the muddy water run out until it ran clean, then hooked up the hose. They had a ladder truck set up to squirt water into the 2nd or 3rd floor. The cops had us move back quite a bit and I decided I'd seen enough and took off. 

I decided to go to TAK Market and see if they had any alcohol-free beer. They did, but for all the micro brews they have, they just had O'Douls so I got a six-pack of that - it costs as much as regular beer and is still cheaper because alcohol can be infinitely expensive. 

I rode up to the corner and there was absolutely no one at the Wienerschnitzel and I decided I craved some nice salty fries and an ice-cold O'Douls in the park. So I ordered a small fries, and then the couple behind me, she very heavily tattooed, also ordered a small fries. "That's funny! That's what I just ordered!" I said and we got talking. About how a little visit like this to Wienerschnitzel can be the highlight of the week, the rest of the week spent just working at eating instant ramen at one's desk. And how San Jose is just about working, no socializing allowed, and how you meet all these great people and never see them again. (And I can forecast quite reliably that I will never see this couple again.) 

I went over to the park and had my O'Douls and fries, and the only shortcoming was that the fries had hardly any salt on them. I guess I should ask for a little packet of salt next time. I watched a group of people throw a ball for their very enthusiastic dog. The park was almost deserted, it was myself, that group, and a family at a picnic table behind me. In the whole park. 

Done, I headed back here. At slightly more than a walking pace due to the wind. It's so often like that, though. You just keep pedaling and try not to think so much about how slow you're going, and pretty soon you get where you're going. All I'm doing it living in the future, when things will go at foot, mule, or maybe just maybe bike speed. 

There had actually been a lot of people walking and out on bikes in Japantown and it was really cheerful and nice. Downtown was dreary as usual with hardly anyone out, and the fire distracted me from checking out the "SoFa" district to see how that was. Depending on how things go, I might be able to do some busking this year. How will I sound on the shakuhachi? Like crap, probably. But I sounded like crap on trumpet at first too. 

When I got back here a police helicopter started circling here, really low. It was pretty cool. It's gonna be boring when the cops finally go over to just using drones. A police SUV pulled in, did a 3-point turn and turned around and went back out. So they were probably chasing some scumsucker who'd been causing trouble. 

When I'd come in I'd seen the crappy RV owned by Renee, erstwhile the head honcho of the homeless encampments in the parking lot which we'd eventually chased out. And one of her scumsucker friends had been pulling metal out of the Dumpster used by a machine shop a few doors down. Frankly those machine shop people ought to know, all they need to do is leave the metal in a pile and it'll go away overnight.

Sleep remains elusive

7th day sober. Sleep was still hard for me. I kept having to get up to pee. Maybe I need to institute a "no liquids after 10PM" rule. That's quite a change from before, when the later, the more I was guzzling sake with ice. 

I made a bowl of udon using a "kit" I got at H Mart and it came out great. I added shrimp and mushrooms. They have all kinds of "kits", a lot of which are types of noodles that are served cold, with the pictures on the front of the bag showing them actually served on slush or ice. Summer is coming! 

I lay in bed, trying to rest and I did have some dreams in fact one cool one was, I was in a sort of banquet hall with all the people from the temple, Rinban Sakamoto was there and all the crowd, and there was good food and it was great. But then I realized I needed to be out the door today by 5 instead of 6, because FedEx closes at 6. 

I packed two more things I wanted to take, so now all packages are due the 11th or later and I get my shot on the 10th. I got going at 5, and since I actually had plenty of time, stopped in at Zuka Foods and got two different malt drinks and a couple bags of the banana chips I like plus one more of the same brand but spicy. The lady at the counter and a tall skinny black guy were holding a wonderful conversation which was fine except I had to get going so I opened my phone to check the time and said something about having to go to FedEx, and the lady said, "Why don't I take care of yours first, then?" and I said, "That's a good idea!" honestly meaning it, and I paid for my stuff and then she and guy could talk things into the ground. I actually noticed the dried hibiscus flowers the guy was buying and mentioned to them I'd seen them growing at Fry's so he could pick some fresh. And that I'd grown up where it's the state flower and never knew you could eat it - and I'd been poor and skinny and hungry and discovered all kinds of oddball things to eat when I was a kid. 

I got going on to FedEx and of course the H Mart parking lot was busy as hell but no matter, I was just dropping off packages. I took off down the road, and my next stop was the storage unit where I picked up some things, most notably a big box of IC's with lots of 3-terminal voltage regulators and other goodies. 

From there I went to see Tom and we ended up talking about some interesting things, and our both sitting on the asphalt out front, it seemed fitting that we ought to be drinking malt drinks popular in Africa too. I checked the time and had 15 minutes before Zuka closed, so I told Tom to hold tight and I'll get us a couple of cold ones. I rode over there and got a couple, and it turns out Zuka,this one complex whose parking lot goes all the way across from Junction to Rogers is right across the street, and that spat me out onto Rogers right where the ghost kitchen is. 

By this time Tom was inside his box truck, trying to take this wooden stand for tiles and such things that he'd been given, with the most piddly little tools. He figured he could make $75 on the thing. "On Craig's List?" I asked in astonishment, as "CL" seems to have died a while back. He asserted it was on CL indeed, so people must be really desperate for wood. Tom said he'd been selling all sorts of "construction stuff" and people come right over and get it. I guess construction stuff is a whole different game than trying to sell a musical instrument... 

I reasserted that I'm quite serious about training him up to be a busker because it's a lot easier than messing around with construction stuff. Tom had played trumpet in concert band in high school, and I'm sure I can get him out there. Once a person gets over being scared to be out there it's a piece of cake. I told him I'm outta here in 3 years so he's no competition to me, and I prefer the shakuhachi anyway, but I can teach what I know on trumpet. I told him how, in the before times, I'd been planning to save up a financial buffer and rent an office in this complex where I know it's OK to sleep in the office, and just work a route of Whole Foods stores and other places and just do trumpet. 

(This is not dissimilar to the plan I have for my retirement in Hawaii, only Social Security will pay my rent, and I can go around various places with my shakuhachi as well as pick shells, etc. I'll just have Social Security as a lifeline and I suppose I'll be living in a room etc not an office.) 

But then, I explained, the Christmas season had come on, then that "coughing thing" came around and I was knocked out of the game for a month, and then they started talking about this virus... But Tom can be a trumpeter here and have his Social Security and has his building to live in. 

We also talked about all the different restaurants around, and he was astonished that I've never been to the Old Spaghetti Factory. So we have a plan: Once this virus is really over with, we'll go there and then we'll go to O'Flaherty's and he'll have a Guinness and I'll have an O'Doul's. 

Tom also mentioned that sake I'd given him had kicked his ass. He'd had half the carton, or 1 liter. (No doubt he finished his night with his cheap E&J brandy.) 

All in all it was a more interesting and congenial talk than I expected. I really tried to emphasize to Tom that the emotional link he got when he was peddling little figurines, can be gotten much more so in busking. I explained that since he'd played in concert band in HS, the muscles will still be there and told him how I'd become a certified windsurfer, but like all noobs had gotten blown down into the lee end of Shoreline Lake and generally there are two things students do: Wait for the park kids to come get them with the Boston Whaler, or do the "walk of shame" along the shallows on the oyster shells, towing their rig. But there's the rescue drill, where you lay the sail down on your legs and paddle out, so I did that. I described the other students looked at me with shock as I motored on by, and I wasn't even sore afterward because I'd paddled a ton as a kid and the muscles are still there. The same should work for him, the muscles will all still be there. 

Maybe if I can get him into trumpet playing, he'll have something he cares about and will have a reason to get off the sauce. He had a shirt on today but I notice as soon as he relaxed he unbuttoned it so that big belly of his might well be painful. That's some late stage alcoholism right there, and it might also explain his scattered thinking. 

I got back here and cooked the 2nd serving of udon from the "kit" and this time added thinly sliced shallots, sesame oil, and the rest of the shrimp I had which I wanted to use up. I eventually listed some Ebay stuff too.