What I know I have to do.

 I was up until 6AM again but not before getting in something like 2 hours of practice. This is the way, as they say. I've got to become skilled enough that when I'm back home I'm not just another useless being who mopes around, adding little or nothing to society. 

I'm on page 19 now, and have played the pieces there except for "Muffins" at the bottom of the page. I decided to save "Muffins" for later. I'm gratified that playing C is becoming easier and the pieces are starting to get into "finger memory" and also I think my tone is getting better. 

I'm also not messing around playing quietly. In one of the books about shakuhachi I read, one of the great teachers said that new students should play loud for their first few years, I guess to build up strength. And in one of the books by James Galway, he mentions auditioning somewhere and the examiner saying something like, "Why do you have to play it so loud?" Things would be a lot easier for me if I played quietly in practice, but then how am I supposed to do, out there in front of the Old Spaghetti Factory or somewhere, trying to "put it across"? 

I've got to develop as much skill over the next two years as I can. "Red", the flute player who was a fixture downtown, probably RIP now, got by surprisingly well with a playing style that was so smooth that his main problem was people not realizing it was him playing and not Muzak. Yet he had the little Chinese bakery in Mountain View paying him, he said, to play out front. But he was a *very* rudimentary player, and that's not for me. I want to play real music. 

I need to develop to the point where I may land back home with no more than I can carry in my pockets or on my back. And be able to make money right off, be able to rent a storage space to use as a home base, and to get along and survive. I need to be sure of making enough to get by on sleazebag hotels or something if nothing else, and get established. I look at how well I've established things here, stopped drinking and stayed away from it, am saving money, and am able to come up with an angle to achieve just about anything. 

I *really* want to get on friendly terms with my older sister again, but that's probably going to take time, and the way to keep that from happening is to show up poor and begging. Which again is why I haven't dared to think about moving home until I've got Social Security up my sleeve, and I also intend to show up back there with enough money to do nothing for a year, if I choose.

You have to go out to the middle of the largest ocean

I did a good hour of octaves practice last night, the idea to make myself able to have the "strong" sound of an experienced player. I went to bed around 6AM, got up at 3PM. 

On the radio they're talking endlessly about banning guns and curiously, I've heard nothing about the Uvalde TX shooter's name or background or anything. 

They want to ban guns to keep them out of people's hands nationwide, but especially out of the hands of the left like the Socialist Rifle Association and leftists and normal people who just want to survive the coming civil war. This is obvious. 

Because Uvalde, TX has a population of 16,000. There are probably 16,000 guns of various types owned by the population also. There was one shooter. Who probably showed tons of signs, cries for help really, before shooting up the school. All they had to do is find one kid, as opposed to trying to root out 16,000 guns which is impossible. I'd really want to know what was so wrong in that kid's life that he felt the only solution was to shoot a bunch of people and die himself. But that would be a sociological, human-to-human solution whereas trying to disarm the entire population is a mechanical solution; one that might be thought of by robots. 

An interesting question came up on Reddit today on r/hawaii. Where's the jazz music at? It turns out there are a ton of places. People posted over a dozen. Here, in San Jose California, a city of over a million, there *might* be a jazz concert once in a great while in one of the large hotels. Cafe Stritch is long gone. There's *some* jazz if you spend a lot of money and travel a long distance to San Francisco or Oakland. And there's the San Jose Jazz Fest twice a year where you can hear, for again spending a lot of money on tickets and for most, travel, some mediocre jazz mixed in with mediocre pop. 

But there in r/hawaii they mentioned a lot of places, most of which I know the neighborhood of and can actually imagine, and which would be fairly pleasant to go to. Very easy to get to. Probably not even pissy about it if one doesn't drink. 

Maybe it's that Hawaii is, at most, half "white" culturally. It really is a sort of meeting place, a synapse, between "Western" and Asian culture. And culture is a serious thing in Asia. 

 

To give an example, for all my years learning and playing trumpet and listening to trumpet players, the best of any, anywhere, of any race or culture I have ever heard, is this guy, Kikuta-San.  

Japan just does everything "to 11". Look at how much music they've worked out how to get out of the shakuhachi, which is not only a simple flute, but one of the simplest of the world's many flutes. 

I got out of here around 5, to do my rounds. I dropped off trash, picked up a bunch of books from the free libraries while dropping off things at each, then rode down to Wal-Mart. 

I got paper towels and two kinds of canned fish; a couple cans of tuna in olive oil and three cans of sardines of a type I like, that have a transparent top and taste just like "Tiny Tots". Those are $5 at Whole Foods while they're a bit less than $2.50 at Wal's. And it only took about 26 tries to get the payment card machine to work. Next time I'm using cash. 

On my way back I went by Dai Thanh for garlic and little cucumbers which were really cheap, then the Amazon place for some bubble mailers, then Nijiya for some cold grilled mackerel and Japanese cucumber pickles.

"Blondie" was there and I remembered to ask him the next question in our conversations of a week or two ago; where his mother had been born, exactly. (He'd said she was born "in" a sugar cane field in Hawaii.) He only knew sugar cane, and the Big Island of Hawaii. I said there were lots of sugar cane workers, that she's have been born not in the field but in a plantation hospital, and have grown up in plantation housing. I told him that part of the time growing up I lived in a plantation house that had been moved to a cheap lot in Hau'ula and rented to us. And that at least by my low standards, the plantation houses were nice. 

I encouraged him to look for a book called Pau Hana (I might still have my copy to give him). He said his mother was Chinese, but never told him anything or taught him Cantonese etc. "History is a mystery" he joked. I said I'd had to solve some mysteries myself, about my mom's side of the family being Tatar, and how they'd always insisted on being "white" and he said it was the same in his family. I said in my case, when I came to the mainland here, I didn't want to admit to anyone that I was from Hawaii, but wanted everyone to think I was just another mainland person. That's about all we could talk, but I've got to get him that book and also do a bit of gushing about the Chinese in Hawaii, who were so good at overcoming adversity and working together. 

The wind was nuts, it being the End Times and all, and I even saw some of the fencing around a construction site blown over. There were the usual zombies around, and two crazy ladies yelling and cussing and ranting away, one by Japantown and one by Wal-Mart. Between the wind and the crazies, who wants to go out? Which is why I stayed in yesterday and only went out reluctantly today. 

But I did alright on books, finding 8 of them I think the used book store might be interested in. The ones they don't want, I go through and pick out any that I think might be worth putting on Ebay. After that, what's left goes to the little free library on 7th in front of the Peace & Justice Center which isn't on my usual route. The book store hasn't had very many music books lately, but if they get a bunch of flute books I'll be ready to get 'em. Or I can get one of those Beatles compendia or one of the "Jazz Fake Books". 

This book thing is a pretty small-time grift but it's kind of a hobby, like my saving copper pennies. Speaking of which, I've been thinking for a few weeks now about busking, and then taking the money made busking and buying silver quarters and dimes with it. Say I make $150 on a weekend, I could spend $100 of it on a roll of silver dimes. It makes sense if I'm not able to leave here but if I'm leaving for home in two years, I'm not so sure it's something to get antsy about. I'm still trying to figure out how to sneak any money at all with me across the ocean, to a state which has no banks in common with the mainland at all. 

I could make up little boxes, Care Packages A, B, C etc., easy to mail and leave them with Ken and Suzy, to mail to me when I give the word and have a safe, stable address. I could possibly hide money or money orders in them. Or I could learn to cast gold, buy gold, and cast up a set of trumpet mouthpieces, that I put across as being gold-plated but are actually solid. Those would not look out of place in a trumpet case I carry with me, and I've been through Customs enough times to know I'd be expected to take the horn out and put a mouthpiece in and blow a tune, but that's not a problem. 

Another possibility is to take a cruise to Hawaii and jump ship. I might be able to hide money orders in a suitcase lining or such place, or take a few expensive flutes with me and of course I don't need more than one or two for my own use, but it'd be a way to transport money. Expensive watches or diamonds are another way - come to think of it I could buy some spendy diamonds and hide 'em in pieces of that awful costume jewelry with bunches of rhinestones. Even I know enough about jewelry settings to pull that off. 

But the best way to get back home and survive and pull it off is to not need all that much money. I anticipate it being hard, and that I may end up homeless for a bit. I may end up being homeless for longer than a bit, in fact. This is why I haven't dared to try it until I reach age 62, so I can get $800 or $900 or so coming in courtesy of Social Security. That will put me above the general run of non-retiree-age homeless who just stay homeless or if they are very lucky, can find a situation where they pay their landlord their food stamps and then sleep under a roof, even if it's just a garden shed, and go out and beg or scrounge for their own food. This is a common setup in the US.

Simply by being eligible for Social Security, even if at just about the minimum, I should be able to avoid that. So if I can certify that I am me, I can be good for $900 a month or so. And don't I know how to panhandle, scavenge, buy and sell things, etc. But the best thing I can think of as a store of value that's accessible to me, is being skilled at something. 

It's been run into the ground that there's no money in programming computers or in electronics, so those are right out. But learning to play the flute well would be a winner, busking standards being so low. And learning to repair flutes would be a real winner too. Learning to play the shakuhachi competently would likewise be a huge win, and then if I could learn to make them, that would be a huge win. So maybe I need to worry about these things more over the next two years then however I'm going to smuggle money across the ocean - that last should take care of itself, somehow.

What white people can do

 Yesterday someone posted on r/Hawaii about a caricature artist working on the strip in Waikiki. He'd done three people, three faces stacked on top of each other, and he'd had a great time stretching them all out of proportion, making the eyes funny shapes, and so on. All great fun and more power to the guy, but in a way it kinda stings and writing about this might make that go away because I've moved on, as it were. 

First, years ago, after the economy had crashed in 2007-2008 and I'd realized I had to have some "street skill" and fast, I'd decided that maybe doing caricature drawings would save me. I'd been expected as a child to "become an artist" and while no more talented than the average kid, I'd been at least exposed to a lot of art and art materials. 

The end-all of this had been a number of really mediocre caricature drawings scattered along my path, and my finding that pretty much no one cares about them out here in coastal California. 

If I were still that interested, I'd have set out with a sketch pad and materials and a sign or two and "busked" caricatures for free here and there. Since the key to becoming a competent caricaturist is to draw tons and tons of faces, the key would be to get out there and "busk"; do as many as possible with the reward being the experience of drawing them, any money reward being incidental. 

I've tried to get myself interested and even bought materials at times, was going to make clever little signs out of artists' palettes, a little stand-up sign that looks like a smartphone saying "I can draw from pictures on your phone!" and so on. I just cannot get that interested. 

There are actually several caricature artists around the Bay Area, trying to scratch out a living. It's hard enough for them, who presumably don't have any other skills. The guys who used to come up here for Christmas In The Park gave up a year or two before covid - it was already that bad for them. It's not a profession for anyone who doesn't love it heart and soul. 

I look at what caricature artists need to have, also, and I'm relieved not to be in that game. At a minimum they need signage, examples, tons of art materials, a chair for them and one for their subject, just the right lighting which means, often, some LED lighting, and it'd better not be windy or rainy. That's the minimum. Most end up with stands showing their drawings of celebrities, big signs, maybe frames or clear plastic sleeves for the completed drawings, and a van to put it all in. 

But seeing this guy in Waikiki able to goof on people still stings a bit because he's vaguely Asian/Pacific Islander and thus can do anything. If I were set up there, not white enough for the mainland but considered white in Hawaii, and drew people that way, it might be a week before I'm fired or stabbed. People can peddle all kinds of things in Waikiki as long as they're not white/white-passing or, I presume, black as Hawaii is not kind to "popolos" either. Begging is OK, and music is OK because nothing physical is exchanged. And even then, it took a lawsuit by one "Sonny Beethoven", who being both Asian and a Punahou graduate, was able to successfully sue for the right to play music on the strip in Waikiki. 

(I could possibly, if I were under the protection of an Asian concession owner, get away with doing photo-perfect portraits that magically made the old young, the chubby less so, birthmarks nonexistent, and so on. If I did it more cheaply than any Asian person of similar skill.) 

I am really glad, though, that what I am interested in is playing music, so nothing physical changes hands, and interested in instruments where anything beyond the instrument is not required. No foolishness with batteries and amplifiers or even strings. 

And of course once I'm back there, I can always have a try at doing Ebay on my own again. I'd sure rather not because I hate Ebay, but I'll be out from under the non-compete I'm under with Ken and will have that option again. Ebay doesn't pay attention to the racial caste system in Hawaii. 

I think the whole thing may have helped me dodge a bullet though. For instance, I could not work in the pineapple fields, which was well-paid work, but by all accounts it was grueling work. I could not work in the sugar mill or sugar industry, but again, it was very hard work for the money. I could not work in fast food because that work was above my station - but who really wants to work in fast food? I was forced to look at those things I *could* do, and studying electronics as a way out of there and presumably to a well-paying electronics job on the mainland was a good way to avoid my predetermined path to a lifetime of the lowest, most dangerous or demeaning jobs. For instance, I *could* get a job working at the wastewater plant - that place STUNK. And I was able to get a job as a security guard, although I'd likely have been kept at the lowest rank for decades, because as it turns out guards get beat up and stabbed a lot. Occasionally killed. A "haole" security guard was just killed in downtown Honolulu a week or so ago and no one will break much of a sweat looking for his killer. It only made the news because the guy was very friendly. 

Music and entertainment seem to be the one place where the rules can be bent if not broken. We all grew up watching Checkers & Pogo, both white guys. In fact come to think of it, a couple of the minor characters, Professor Fun and another one or two, where white also. It's as weird as all-white neighborhoods on the mainland all having their TV sets tuned to the Amos 'n' Andy show. Jim Nabors was adored in Hawaii. Jack Lord, a B-level actor, also. So, other than being rich, being in music or entertainment is the way to go back home. 

This is the kind of situation Jews found themselves in, by the way. There's all this resentment, Oh, Jews are too smart to shovel shit, etc. Well Jews were not allowed to shovel shit, so they had to find clever ways to exist.

It's not gonna change

 I was up until maybe 6AM, got in a solid 45 minutes on the octave exercise, which is, well, good exercise. I could tell because my midsection was a little sore from the night before. So I am strengthening something. 

I'd had too much coffee (esp. the bottle of "Key Coffee" I'd bought as a treat) so I had trouble getting to sleep but eventually managed it. I woke up around 2, and decided I'd pack this one thing that I can take to FedEx and then do some shopping at H Mart. Which is exactly what I did. 

I didn't find any packing stuff on my way back, but when I got back here I did some neatening up. Someone had come by last night in one of those big "land yacht" RVs and picked up the junk from my taking apart a Dell server last night. It was nearly worthless stuff, worth less than $5 but I guess to a bum it'll still buy a small crack rock. The night before, the junk had been picked up by couple of zombies with a 1970s pickup truck with one of those ugly in-bed campers and hauling a little trailer stacked with pallets. One of the zombies was standing on this trailer, and the zombie driving was not being all that slow or careful. Why worry about your life when you're already dead? Get that crack money! 

For some reason someone had left this huge teddy bear where the junk had been, so I took this thing and set it out by the road where more people will see it, and hopefully someone picks it up. And I tossed out other things, and made the area neat. Chuey was out washing his van and playing cheerful Mexican music so the parking lot had a nice feel. 

There's tons of talk about mass shootings on NPR, and on Reddit too. Someone pointed out on Reddit that the Sandy Hook shooting was all white kids in an affluent area and that didn't change a thing, so whatever the latest shooting, things are not going to change. The one thing different about Sandy Hook is that the far-right, disproportionately white and affluent, is busily trying to convince the world it didn't happen. Uvalde, Texas can be written off as it being just a bunch of brown kids and mostly brown cops, but Sandy Hook his a nerve. 

And we gun-loving leftists keep pointing out that there are countries that are awash in guns but don't have these problems because they have an intact social safety net and people are not hyper-individualistic as they are here in the US. 

The NRA reaches a new low

 The NRA is holding their national convention, and for some reason they're actually allowing the Dump onto the property?? How could they have anything but loathing for the Fat Orange One is beyond me, since he's been anti-gun most of his life. I was an NRA lifer years ago until I told them to take a hike, but if I hadn't already I would do so now. Socialist Rifle Association all the way with me. 

I was an avid reader of the NRA's official magazine, The American Rifleman, when I was a kid. A guy working on our house brought a number of issues over. They were interesting! There were articles about antique guns and their history, how to develop loads for accuracy, profiles of noted artists who did artwork on things like high-end shotguns, it just went on and on. There was very, very little on police-type use of guns. The last time I looked at an issue, I'd consider it unreadable - it's nothing but paranoia and militarized stuff and makes Soldier Of Fortune look like great literature. The NRA has gone from being fairly mainstream to being right-wing fringe. 

I packed some things including an oscilloscope, which I was glad to have one of those boxes car wheels come in, for. I also used up the pieces of "Foam Core" for signs etc I had around here. And insured the package. I got out of here at the usual time, did the post office drop-off then the FedEx one, and stopped by the falafel place for a yogurt drink. That's actually a really good snack for this warmer weather, as it's nourishing, refreshing, healthy, and won't spoil my dinner. 

I found lots of packing stuff and went out for a 2nd round, going back for two especially nice wheel boxes from the tire place, then stopping by the Indian dumpster for a lot of different sizes of plastic bags, some raw peanuts and cashews and such things for bird food, and I think I might try some Indian Tic-Tacs and instant coffee that was in there. 

I'd done a lot of the octave exercise last night, maybe 45 minutes, and eventually I tire out and I'm not sure if it's my breathing that tires out or my lips or both.

ACAB

 I got in a solid half hour or 45 minutes on octaves on the headjoint last night, and went to bed at maybe 6AM. I woke up a few times, finally getting out of bed at 2. 

There are new details on the latest school shooting. It would not be anything new if the cops had merely stood around, keeping the scene safe for the shooter to kill as many as possible; that's standard. We treasure our mass shooters, and the cops always do their best to help. Generally it involves keeping do-gooders out, and keeping the scene contained until the shooter runs out of ammo or runs low anyway and then one of two things happen: 

The shooter kills themselves, or, if the shooter is white, they're handled by the police like a dignitary, taken *gently* into custody, with such things as a stop-off for a meal at the shooter's preferred restaurant, maybe a hot shower at the police station before being put into a cell, with profuse apologies I'm sure. 

But in this case, the police not only "tackled" parents trying to get in to save their kids, but the police actually went in, got their own kids out, then kept everyone else out for the maximum damage to everyone else's kids. 

This is being talked about all over Reddit, "going viral" as they say, so it's the very opposite of a secret. It's been no secret for years that cops tend to be people who can't pass the physical, and more often mental, tests to go into the military. And it's been long known that they're generally cowards. But this crosses a line. 

This is a good massecre, and by that I mean a big one. Lots of lives lost. So there will be those diagrams and timelines and so on, right up to when the shooter was finally neutralized by Border Patrol agents. And why the Border Patrol? Because the shooter was brown with a Hispanic name, of course. 

I got going at the usual time, dropped off trash at my Super Secret Trash Can(tm) and dropped off 7 packages at the downtown post office. I had to wait in line for a while and the guy working at the counter position I was in line for was a black guy with dreadlocks in his face. All well and fine, but he seemed to be doing things in such a way as to allow for lots of time to engage in a conversation with another black guy who he was helping, about some kind of EEOC dispute. I wish I could tell these guys that the post office "hazes" everyone starting out, and considering the large number of workers there who are black (with just about all the rest first-generation immigrants) there's not much chance of the kind of plot against them they think there is. I finally put my box on the counter by the Indian guy asking quickly if it's OK - "You're just dropping it off?" "Yep -thanks!" and I was outta there. 

Next was the bank, and while I'd calculated my balance would be 3001-something, it was 2998.89. A few dollars off. So I either fat-fingered a number or, more likely, I've been charged the fee I agreed to to get paper statements each month. In my experience with banks, once you have enough in there they stop charging the fee. 

I went to Whole Foods next and this is where two weird things happened. They had "chili lime" chicken wings so I got those and some steamed broccoli, and a Lagunitas near-beer. And when I checked out, the price was insanely low. The young guy at the register didn't say anything; was just like "Eh, that's how it goes". What would normally be a plate of food well over $10, was $3. The total was $5.48. I went upstairs and got a glass with ice to pour my beer into, Southeast Asia style, and enjoyed my wings and beer. 

Then I went back in for normal shopping and picked up a bunch of stuff which with $20 cash back was a bit over $80. I went out and loaded up the bike and rode out of there and saw something odd, a bag with something inside, and not too far from it a beer can. I checked it out and the story was obvious: Someone had bought a 6-pack of this Lagunitas "Hazy" IPA which at 9% alcohol probably tastes more "strong" than "good". They'd decided it was disgusting, set their can down on the curb and set the bag with the other 5 beers down for some random person to find. 

I was the random person. I picked it up and rode off, thinking about who to give it to. My panhandler friend who hangs out a few doors down from Original Joe's was an obvious answer, but I rode over there and he wasn't around. Bums in general seemed scarce, because something called Fanimecon is going on and the cops like to clear the bums away from "paying customers". I ended up riding up by Dai Thanh and gave the beers to a couple of bums hanging out in front of the now-closed Bo Town. 

I rode over to the Amazon place to pick up my 3C cornet mouthpiece but they'd just cleared out the trash cans so no free bubble mailers today. Oh, well. I did pick up 5 books that I think might be worth something in trade credit at the used book store on my way over to Nijiya where I did some more shopping. 

The ride home was really nice and in fact riding around all day had been - it's been overcast and had cooled down a bit. And the wind wasn't crazy for a change. After putting things away I went out to check the nearby place I've found that tosses out medical stuff and didn't find much, but took a part off of this big printer they had by their dumpster, and took that back here and got the motors and some other odd bits off. 

I finally got around to checking my receipts and the guy at Whole Foods had charged me for .27 lb when it was probably 1.27 lb of hot food. That was nice of him. Some of the area back there had a power problem or something and a large section of the cooler shelves were empty, and some of the hot/cold bar, so maybe the order of the day was to just charge "whatever" for stuff from there.

More guns =

 I was up late, photo'd a bunch of things to list during the day, got in about an hour's practice. The hand position to hold the flute is just plain odd and there's no way around that. If I had long spidery fingers I could probably get away with using the "balance" system to hold the thing but since I don't, the "pressure" system is what I'm learning. 

I have a 3C mouthpiece coming in for the cornet, so I won't have that somewhat stuffy, old-timey sound if I want to or need to go out busking with it.  There's a thing called Bugles Across America or Taps Across America where they want people to go out and play Taps at 3PM local time on Memorial Day which is Monday. I might grab the trumpet and go out and do that. I did it that one time on the steps of the old post office and the bell ringer at the Catholic church on the square there actually held off ringing the hour for me. That was cool. 

What I don't get is, I can pick up the trumpet after a layoff and whip out high C's like it's nothing, but my endurance is shit and it doesn't seem to matter very much how much I practice.

So far I do not seem to be running into this problem with the flute. In the end, there are two things I want: (1) I want something that will help my being able to play the shakuhachi, and (2) I want something I can "get around" on better than the trumpet. I want to be able to take any tune bouncing around in my head and work it out, and I could do that on the trumpet until I ran into the ever-present range issues, and I always had to work pretty hard to learn each new song.

It was so warm overnight I dug out the fan I used last summer and had it blowing on me so I could sleep. All sources say it's going to be a hot summer. 

On the radio they're saying "more guns = more gun violence" and in a sense they are correct. But in an individualistic, violent, society like that of the US, if you take away the guns you'll just have knives, bombs, gasoline and other flammables, etc. In New York City at least for a while when the crackdown on other things was severe, attacking one's foe with acid to the face was popular. Violence is good for our economy and that's what matters. 

I started to list things I'd photo'd last night and got a few listed but then Ebay's listing software went down. So instead I packed a couple of things including one large box to go to FedEx and took those up there, and didn't really find anything to take home except one smallish box with bubble wrap in it. 

Once I was back here I finished the listings and was cleaning the bathroom when Ken showed up. He said he had to "disappear" into the back for a while, so while he looked around in back I packed things to take to the downtown post office, and did other little jobs, including doing a modification I like to do on my fan, which is cut the face of it out so it's not only more efficient (not having to blow against the front screen) but it makes it possible to clean the fan easily. Then I cleaned it, of course. 

I kept Ken's mug full of diet 7-Up and ice, and he took breaks from his looking around in back. Eventually I asked him what he was looking for and he said some Freon he was sure he had, and had I seen it? I said I'd notice something like that, and I looked on Craig's List and there are a few people selling Freon, although it's not cheap at several hundred dollars for a standard container of it. It's to fix Ken's A/C system at his house, and we discussed changing out the motor capacitor and other cheap fixes first. 

Ken's blood sugar sensor went off a couple of times, and he checked it and his blood sugar was quite low, so he had the regular 7-Up I keep around here. We talked about a bunch of things and before we knew it, it was just before 1AM so he left.

Moneypox part 2

 There's more discussion of "moneypox" on Reddit. The biological reservoir seems to be in African rats, and one person wondered if it might get into the American rat population then we'd have a real problem. Another one pointed out that Rattus norvegicus doesn't seem to catch or carry it well, as has been researched. Let's say it gets into rats here though. That would mean lots of vaccinations, more being careful about fomites (surfaces, shared bedding and clothing, places rats go like basements and pantries) and a further culling of the population. Another million out of a population north of 300 million isn't much, and the US economy has shows its (the oligarchs') willingness to put up with it, and the US response would largely be "let it rip" and it would be up to the individual to get  vaccinated or not.

That may be paid by the taxpayer as covid vaccines have been so far, or may be on a pay-as-you-go basis as covid shots probably will be soon. I can pay $30 or even $100 for a covid shot since I'm a good saver, but a lot of people can't. I'd expect this to kick in if the "rethuglicans" win in 2024 and perhaps be phased in if they gain ground later this year. 

The "rethuglicans" are doing a pretty good job of shitting their own bed, though. Their plans to end Roe v. Wade and by extension, punish all pregnancies including instances like ectopic which without care will kill the mother, as felonies deserving long prison sentences or the death penalty, are out in the open now. They plan to also remove LGBT rights, track women's periods, all sorts of "Big Brother" stuff. Plus outlawing things in states they control and enabling "bounty hunters" to abduct, for pay, people who have committed those things in states they don't control. So at least in theory someone who's had an abortion here in California could be snatched off of the street by bounty hunters from Texas. 

Even a fair number of "conservatives" are against this level of extremism, but then I'm convinced there were tons of Germans who thought Nazism was great but they ought to lay off the Jews, so many of whom were patriotic Germans. They didn't get that it was all-or-nothing.

I was up late as usual then suddenly realized I was too tired to be useful, did some octave exercises, and went to bed. Then woke up around noon today. The octave exercise is getting easier and unlike earlier, I didn't have this problem where I could blow some good octaves, then "tired out" or something and could not do 'em, then after a bit of time could start to do 'em again. Now I'm homing in on being able to do "long" octave or "short" ones. I see these flutists on YouTube who can play these long passages before taking a breath, and I want to be able to do that. 

I'm constantly looking on Craig's List for decent flutes for sale, as in, older Yamahas that were made in Japan that I can learn to work on flutes on as well as have for reliable players for busking. Out of curiosity I looked in Craig's List Hawaii and a pawn shop has two flutes for $20, not sure if $20 each or $20 for both, a Gemeinhardt and a no-name, but hey, for that price, I'd pick 'em up. 

Someone on there also has a 1.6 shakuhachi for $600 which may or may not be a good flute. Assuming I'd found a place around the university area, I could hop on a bus or even bike over to Kahala to check it out. I'd put it through its paces, blow a honkyoku or two, and fork over the money if it's a good player. 

One of the many, many things I miss about Hawaii is the pawn shops. I've lived in places with decent pawn shops and I'll put Hawaii's up against anyone's. There are all sorts of treasures to be found. 

I packed a half-dozen things and left here early, and the drop-offs went fine. It was really hot out there. I actually went past the post office first and up to the Filipino store, where I got a bag of pork rinds and two cans of Diet Pepsi and that was under $5. I looked around in the liquor store that's in that strip mall, because you never know what you'll find in those, and got a 2-liter bottle of Diet 7-Up for $3.35. 

I rode back to the post office and dropped packages off, then went to the shady complex across the street and had a Diet Pepsi and half of the pork rinds. 

Then I meandered back to FedEx and dropped a couple packages off, and rode back here. I didn't find much for freebees except some weird fiber optic cables I may or may not be able to put on Ebay.

Moneypox

 I got an hour and a half practice in last night and that's what counts. I'd not practiced for days. I went to sleep at 3AM and sure enough, was awake at 11AM. 

I lay in bed for a bit was awakened the rest of the way by what sounded like a guy applying for work next door at the cleaning place. Loud, basically gringo as hell. He went on and on, and I could not imagine them hiring him. I finally got up and put my bedding away and looked at the video camera; the guy was still doing the walk around and talk loudly into his cell phone routine. I'm sure you can get hired, dude, just maybe not next door. They are quiet and courteous and the only loud thing at times is their music, which is very happy and which I like. 

I read somewhere in the last couple of days that in flute playing, there's the "pressure system" where you use the pressure points of chin, base of left finger, base of right finger and right thumb, to hold the flute. And there's a balance system, where the flute just balances. Using more pressure has made the flute shift less in my grip, but a big factor is, I looked at my hands and the key system and realized all my left hand has to do is is the "home" keys for it and that little paddle thing. And for the right hand it's the same except there's a different little paddle and a couple little roller things, which since I have good pinky independence I'm sure I'll learn to handle. 

This means I can let my left hand be a bit more "under" the flute, and I can worry a bit less. I've played a bit of clarinet and there's a ton of crazy shit on those, and the sax is even worse. I'm glad I've decided reeds are disgusting. 

I practiced up through page 18 in the Wye book, and it went fairly well. Especially after not practicing for days. After practicing, I got the cornet out and put it through its paces. If I'm going to keep it fully ready to go, I need to get a 3C mouthpiece for it, as the 3B I have with it now sounds different from my usual sound, kind of stuffy and old-timey. 

I'm hanging onto the trumpet and cornet because I know I can go out and make money with them.

Monkey, er, Moneypox, as the BBC assured me it's called, repeatedly, doesn't seem to be blowing up the way covid did. The "Beeb" lady very clearly said "Moneypox" and I thought, Did I heard that? Then she said it the same way again. OK, then, with all the recession talk maybe she's right.

It's become warm enough that I put the sweatpants away last night and got out some "indoor" shorts. Well, they're actually undershorts I got at Muji and great for wearing around inside here. And got out the ol' Crocs. They're the ones for food service that don't have holes all over, but then I made a punch and put ventilation holes in the sides where there are outlines for them. So I can drop things on top and they'll just bounce off like small nuts and screws and so on, but the shoes can breathe. My old ersatz-"Uggs" will be retired to the dumpster and good riddance - there was something wrong with the right one, making my right pinky toe quite painful. It'll feel great putting the brand-new ones on when the weather turns cold again. 

I packed a dozen things - it would have been 13 but one was outside the US and there's no service that will ship anything there any more - and had so much time I left here an hour earlier than usual. The post office drop-off went OK although the chute was jammed again, so I grabbed one of those bins that are often lying around and put my packages in there and on the counter. 

I went over to 99 Ranch thinking I'll pick up some pate' and some sardines. They had the pate' and I got 3 cans but they didn't have the sardines I usually get there, "Tiny Tots". I rode over to H Mart to get TP and also some macadamia nuts, as they've got some that are expensive but taste good, and lately Whole Foods only has some that are expensive and also really stale. But the nuts and seeds and such things aren't being sold there any more I guess. I looked through the whole store and nope, all that stuff is gone. And the pate' is there for 80c less a can. I ended up getting the TP and a package of a couple of Anaheim peppers. 

I got back here, not finding any packing stuff at all, but finding two salvageable red bell peppers at the veggie place so those were today's freebee.

Hotter and windier

 I took my "weekend" by reading "Woman In The Mists" by Farley Mowat, about Dian Fossey. It was a freebee from one of the little free libraries and I was happy to find it, being a big Farley Mowat fan. Long before I'd learned to pay attention to authors, I'd read and read-read Owls In The Family as a kid, and Never Cry Wolf as a teen/young adult. 

It was a good book, which I read half of last night and the other half of today, staying in bed. The wind's howling out there and on the radio they said it's going to get even hotter, even into triple digits, and the wind not letting up. Standard End Times weather. 

Aside from reading the book, I think I've finally figured something out to my satisfaction. Being effectively blind or close to it when I was very little, music would have been a natural for me. But my parents, both frustrated artists, and especially my mom, had different plans. I had a childhood of constantly having drawing and painting materials put into my hands, the constant drumbeat that I'm the "artist", a constant pushing toward this career. 

And it became pretty evident that my place was to become a "great artist" somehow and for my mom and her parasite boyfriend to live off of this somehow. Preferably the whole family to. My father had pretty much the same idea; he was just a little bit more subtle about it. 

And I've tried to push *myself* from high school age on. This is what I "should" do; this is what I "ought" to do, I need to make use of my "talent". 

Firstly, I was not more talented than the average kid and maybe even less. Certainly less than a lot of kids as I've seen a lot of pretty impressive little-kid art over the years. I've had more exposure, sure, and I've had more experience messing around with various techniques and materials, but certainly not any more talent than the average person. 

I'm not sure one can be called "better", but it doesn't matter how good an illustrator or political cartoonist you are, your pictures will only hold a very fleeting interest and for example, hardly anyone remembers Bill Mauldin, who was huge during WWII, now. And I don't care how great a drawing by Mauldin, or Leonardo, or Rembrandt, is, it'll never comfort you when you've got absolutely nothing the way a song will. 

So I think I've made the right choice, and it's not just a matter of sheer practicality; that a white or white-passing person can get in some real trouble "peddling" things on the street back home, but if they play music that's fine because nothing physical is changing hands. 

I guess the sleep is good

 I need to list 23 more items to make it a total of 50 items for this week, and was taking some parts off of some Dell servers Ken had brought over, when I decided I was just really tired (it was a bit past midnight) and I'd wind down and go to bed. 

Which I did, but not before noticing that the little white zombie car with the trunk held closed by a bungee cord kept going through here. I need to do my practice NOT during zombie hours, because I don't know why that zombie car is patrolling through here but I've seen it in conjunction with other zombie vehicles and that RV that left a streak of shit on the parking lot so any conflict with one of them will mean the rest of the zombies will join in. 

Time to start doing some training/drills with the Glock, I suppose, plus no more flute/trumpet/whatever practice in the middle of the night. I can list then, because it's a quiet activity. 

I went to bed, actually, at 3AM and woke up at 11AM. I probably actually got out of bed around noon. 

I had my coffee and so on, and eventually got my used books together and into two bags of about equal weight, and got on the bike and meandered my way to the used book store. It was pretty hot out there. 

At the book store, they didn't have any new music books and it turned out they only wanted "a couple" (a few) of the books I'd brought, so I got $10 trade credit. So with the credit I already have, I have about $12.50 trade credit. If nothing else I can keep building it up and get one of those "everything the Beatles ever wrote" books. 

Of the books I got back, I picked out a few to stick onto Ebay and one to keep and read, and took the rest over to the little free library/pantry in front of the Peace And Justice Center on 7th. Then I decided to just wander around and explore a bit. I rode East on Santa Clara to 13th street or so, and ended up turning South and found the "College Convenience Store" I think it was called. I found a Coke Zero and eventually figured out they had the Slim Jims right up at the front. My money was tangled up in my wallet sort of, so I got out a $1 and said, "Here's a $1..." and then "Here's another $1...." and the Indian guy behind the counter said, "What is this - gimme!" and I'd untangled the other $3 I needed and gave that to him, and said he reminded me of the seagulls in "Finding Nemo" where they say "Mine! Mine!" and went out. 

I had a nice shady place with a low yard-wall to sit on lined up, and walked the bike over there, but on the way a guy had a lot of tools all spread out on the other side of a fence, a Mexican guy who was dealing, somehow, with a skinny white guy. I thought it was a garage sale. I looked over at the stuff and said, "Let me look at those wire cutters". The Mexican guy gave me a glum look and said "This is not a sale" so I walked on, to another shady place to sit a bit further down. 

This area, south of the college, is pretty scruffy and the underclass have rules of their own. What the tools were all spread out for, or why the skinny white guy was hanging around, walking away then walking back, I'll never know. Drunk? Stoned? Been hit on the head a few too many times? The answer will be Yes. 

The Slim Jim and Coke were refreshing, though, so that was nice. Once I was finished I rode over to Dai Thanh for some shopping and made my leisurely way to Nijiya for more shopping. On the way I found a couple more free books. I got a few things in Nijiya and what's becoming my customary pack of Black Black gum. The older white guy who'd been to Japan was the checkers and he said, "That's for people who don't get enough sleep" and I said I always chew it before "my music practice". 

The wind on my way home was nuts and I almost considered doubling back and getting on the light rail at the Japantown stop to take it one stop upwind of here, but decided I wasn't quite that demoralized and I just kept cranking along. At least I didn't have to dodge any zombies - the heat seemed to have them off the street. 

I got back and did some math and I'm only $10 or so short of spending half my pay check, but I have $30 cash on me so I'm probably set for the rest of my week.

Time to update your Apocalypse Bingo Card - Monkeypox

 I was tired enough last night that I went to bed, had trouble "winding down" but eventually went to bed at 3AM, which is a lot better than 6AM.... 

I'm hoping I can get myself into my old way of doing things where I have everything important done, or mostly done, before noon and then I can coast through the rest of the day. 

I was up at noon, so that was 8-9 hours of sleep. On Reddit they're talking about monkeypox, which is sort of related to smallpox. It's doubling. Us olders who proudly wear our smallpox vaccination scar have a lot less to worry about, but anyone non-military under 40 isn't vaccinated and the disease is particularly hard on little kids. 

I'm pretty sure the US is geared up to vaccinate large numbers of people for smallpox, as we were worried about the Soviets using it as a weapon. People are not going to like having a little "Personal Pan Pizza" on their arm, looking gross, for a couple of weeks. Now that tattoos are legal, I can see a fad for covering the scar with a tattoo. 

I had all the things that had sold found and packed an hour before I had to leave, so I had some egg salad and relaxed a bit, then took off at the usual time. The drop-offs went OK, of course the chute at the post office was jammed but I was able to put my packages on the counter as everyone does because the chute, obviously designed to prevent just anyone taking a package etc., does its job so well that packages have to be put on the counter where, theoretically, anyone could take one.... 

(This is like the situation with signing in at the Amazon hub. Their sign-in system has been improved to the point that it's unusable and I just show them my email address, written large on an index card, and they go in back and get my package. I never have to show my ID, and only occasionally they ask me my name which they already know and if I have the email address, probably have the name also.) 

I rode North from the post office to Concourse street where I had a look at a little Chinese restaurant there and got a paper menu for my collection, and might have ordered something except I'd inhaled a bit of one of those seeds that are blowing around and had a terrible coughing problem. I was coughing and spitting onto the grass far from the front door and a nice Chinese guy came out from another business and asked if I was OK and I said I was, and between coughs etc. I told him it's the seeds that blow around and he said he spends most of his time in Utah where it's worse, and all in all it was a nice little conversation and I thanked him for his concern when I rode off. 

I went up to the Indian market and really looked around this time and all I bought was some garbanzo beans in their pods, some of these little tiny cucumbers, and one of their sort of savory pastries. It all came to about $5.50. 

I meandered back here, finding shipping stuff, and neatened up that trash enclosure a bit more, where the computer stuff gets tossed out. 

Dinner was sliced Portuguese sausage and garlic and mizuna which is a sort of dandelion-looking veggie they have sometimes at Nijiya. This was all simmered together for a while, and it was pretty good. The Portuguese sausage wasn't as greasy as I remember it being in the old days. Then, there were two brands: Redondo's and Miko. This is some other brand I've not seen before. 

 

Cultural confusion day

 I'd been so sleepy last night I went to bed at 3, fairly early for me, and woke up around noon. I tried to find some adapters I need to ship and of course I could not. There's a universal law of nature around here that no thing will be shipped until it absolutely has to, and if I can't find something that law says I must wait until 15 minutes before it goes overdue and then I cancel the order. 

Tech is so miserable and so underpaid for 99.99% of the people in it, that I'd not encourage anyone to bother with this crap. Learn to be a barber or a short-order cook or shine shoes or something. 

I did a much-needed hair cut and washed up, then headed out with the things I was able to pack last night, and dropped those off at the post office, then went to the bank. The IRS has cashed my checks, which is good, but it's left me with a lot less in the bank so I have to be a lot more serious about saving half of each paycheck and preparing for when the busking season starts. 

After the bank, I went to Whole Foods and got some meatballs and vegetables and a near-beer and when I was done eating I did some shopping, then went to the Amazon place for bubble mailers, and then to Nijiya for some shopping there. 

I'm trying to make sure to look where most people don't, in the freezer case, and I saw they had Portuguese sausage at a decent price so I got one of those along with the other things. "Blondie" was at the register and asked what it was, and I said it's Portuguese sausage, asked if I was trying it out, and I said something like, "I only grew up on the stuff" and he then asked if I had "Portuguese in my heritage" and I said no, and that everyone in Hawaii eats this stuff. Then somehow we ended up talking about sugar cane and pineapple and he said his mother was born in Hawaii "in a sugar cane field" which I doubt, in sugar cane plantation housing, sure that's very possible. One of the houses we lived in when I was  a teen was a plantation house that had been moved out to a cheap lot on the Windward Side to rent to poor people like us. He then asked if sugar cane is still grown in Hawaii and I said No, it, and pineapple, are old history - all gone now. 

The wind (that good old End Times wind) had been howling all day so it was a relief to get back in here.

Fugitive slave act.

 I was up until 6AM but got some practice in before bed as well as my morning practice session. I've got to get good at this thing. James Galway wanted to get good at this thing also because it beat just working, or not-working, at the docks. Well, I don't want the rest of my life to be about Ken selling beat up old test equipment. 

A bit less time on the octaves on the headjoint except as a warm-up, and more time working on the main problem right now which is the flute shifting in my hands and making my tone go to pot. 

I want to be out busking in June. I wish for the life of me I could remember what songs I was out playing when I was busking with flute, not long after moving here to San Jose. I guess it doesn't matter because I know I'm further along in the Wye beginner book than I was then. I think I'd stopped about at the page with the cave man. 

I got 12 Ebay things listed including parts from a power supply I took apart, and went to bed at 6AM after practicing about a half hour. I woke up at 1, so that's about 7 hours of sleep. 

On the radio they're talking about how, once Roe v. Wade is gone, the Texas bounty law won't matter and they don't think many will try to use it to cash in. I think they are very wrong. I think the nice liberals on NPR are vastly underestimating the hatred the right-wingers for anyone who isn't exactly like them and that means not just racially but not having "proper thought". The Republicans are calling for shooting Democrats in the streets, after all. So we're going to have several states with the equivalent of the "refuge slave act" and we here in California will have to take being a sanctuary state seriously. 

And in the midst of our country becoming Gilead, the baby formula shortage has become bad enough to be noticed even in the ivory towers of NPR, and it turns out importing it is illegal so while people in the US are trying to get it from such places as Germany, it's being seized at the border. Let's hope we've got some good smugglers. 

First thing of the day was practicing, which I did for just under an hour. 

Then I put the new bike tire I'd been saving for well over a year now, with a new tube, on the front wheel of the bike. Now the bike has matching tires which is nice. I also had to replace my computer mouse, as the one I'd been using for so long was beginning to malfunction. I tried a couple others I had around here but ended up taking one I'd listed off of our Ebay listings and using that - Dell makes a better mouse than the no-name guys.

I took off for the post office at the usual time with packages I'd already packed and some more I'd packed today including one large one going to Korea. 

The post office went OK, the chute was jammed of course and there was a big pile of packages people had left at the counter as always happens when the chute's not working. So I put mine in among those. 

After the post office I just had one box to go to FedEx and to make things different, I rode up to Trade Zone road and turned right and rode along until just past Capitol to check out a place called IndiaMart. It's a little shop in a typical little strip mall with a massage (lol) parlor, a tailor, a little Chinese takeout place, etc. It's really neat though in that they've got a ton of things in there. I just got some celery as I only had $3 cash on me and that was $2. The place is really neat.

I rode back along Trade Zone, past there I'd come up and over to Oakland Road - the traffic's a bit hectic there but I was able to deal with it OK. I rode down Oakland Road to the FedEx place and dropped off my one box and then it was just the usual routine, picking up  packing stuff and stuff that's useful among the various places I check on my route. 

I got back here with the usual amount of packing stuff and a few goodies (books) and after eating, got busy putting the packing stuff away and putting things I've listed away. 

Ken came by at his usual time, I got my check, and we talked for a while, all the usual things. Ken hadn't read my email about the overdue water bill yet, but now he was able to look at the bill. I offered to go pay it and he could pay me back later but he said money's not the problem and he'll go online and try to figure it out. Also he brought my ballot so that's one less thing to worry about. I told Ken about the Indian market because he likes to go to them too. 

It must be pretty quiet today

 ... Because on the radio they're talking about autism. Autism was the hip, new, diagnosis in the late 90s and in severe cases it's certainly a real thing but it's been romanticized because a lot of successful techies (which are a tiny, tiny portion of people in tech which is a very underpaid field) have been thought to be "on the spectrum". 

My theory: There's tons of sub-clinical autism out there and there's always been. It's not been our modern world, or pthalates, or anything like that, it's that it's been noticed recently and made a "thing". 

In the past there were finishing and charm schools, being taught to bow and curtsy from little-kid time, and all sorts of rituals that gave people a framework to work within to socialize, find a partner, raise their kids, etc. Being a bit "odd" wasn't so odd, and what mattered was being a good citizen and provider. 

Along with getting rid of penmanship classes (which I feel was a big mistake) a lot of the "charm" and "manners" training was gotten rid of in favor of letting kids be "natural" and "creative" and thus, the "odd" kids really stood out. Bring on the diagnoses and the medication. Thomas Edison, called a "nervous little question-box" when he was little, wasn't drugged, he was home-schooled or really home-self-schooled. 

I got 15 things listed last night and was getting sleepy and not enthusiastic to concentrate super well, so I did octave exercises before bed. 

That might be a good way to go, a good practice session during the day when I'm at least theoretically more awake and able to concentrate, and then octaves or long tones before bed to build up tone and endurance. 

In any case I have *got* to get up to speed and get out there busking this season. OK so the season starts in June, I can live with that. I made 2 grand last season so maybe I can try to match that. I sure can't live on 2 grand a year, but the idea is to be ready to jump into going out busking daily if/when I'm not working for Ken any more. 

I got up at 10:30 which is about right given I went to bed at 2:30. I spent far too long having coffee, and another coffee, along with some baker's chocolate and butter, then chewed gum and did a practice session. 

I think the octaves exercise on the headjoint is great for warming up and should be done, but I think I'm going to not lean on it so much because in regular playing, right now it's a big problem that while playing, the flute rotates a little in my hands and my tone goes to shit. "It's no good if your tone's shit" - James Galway, probably. 

So I've got to get that worked out, because when it's right I get a really nice tone and I'd like to have that all the time. 

I've really got to get up to speed on this thing. The mail man came by today and dropped off a letter, from the water company. Since I'm kind of nosy I opened it up and we owe them just under $200 and half of that is over 90 days due. Is Ken that broke? I sent him an email about it and if it's needed I can go and pay them, I've done it before and Ken just paid me back. What makes me think this might be needed is, the letter's dated the 4th and it's the 17th. 

I need to prepare my life boat for if(when) the Titanic goes down. Maybe Ken's that "skint". Maybe he's just been forgetful. Maybe there's some screw-up with his payment system, like he got a new card and the old one on file "aged off". I've had that happen with my debit card. Had my ID expire too and the gals at the bank told me about it and I got a new one. 

In any case, in my experience when things blow up they blow up fast.

The smell of fascism in the morning

 Around midnight I started to get things ready to list, but realized I should not do this middle-of-the-night routine, and put the stuff away. I relaxed and settled down for the night, and tried some practicing but my octave exercise didn't go that well so I went to bed at 2. 

I woke up at 10, which was 8 hours' sleep and I didn't have to drag myself out of bed, I was ready to get up. This is the way to go. 

I turned on the radio and they were explaining "white replacement theory" which I used to believe in long, long ago. Whites are indeed a minority in Hawaii and some even a put-upon one because rich whites use racial policies to keep poor whites out; to hinder them becoming competition. Plus the evil, hyper-individualistic culture white people have will always put them at a disadvantage. That's not skin color, it's a maladaptive culture. As an example, if you had Maasai trying to get along in the modern world, if they kept their Maasai culture, they'd be at a huge disadvantage. Believing that any work but herding is beneath them and that all cattle literally belong to them would make modern life very difficult for them (fortunately, they have lots of land and cattle and don't *had* to enter the modern rat-race but this is an example).

But after being on the mainland for a while and especially in "flyover country" I can say that whites are not in any danger of becoming extinct. The theory is dumb and maybe, broadcasting it on the radio as they did, more people will see through it. 

It's almost as dumb as ISIS's theory that if they commit atrocities then the world will turn against Muslims and bring on some kind of huge holy war, in which the Muslims will win, of course. In reality non-Muslims get together with the vast majority of Muslims who are decent people, and fight them. 

In better news, on r/Hawaii they're talking about something called Hana Career Pathways where, if you make less than $38k a year, work less than 20 hours a week, and make less than $20 an hour, you can get trained as an HVAC tech, commercial driver, carpenter, IT tech, pharmacy tech, etc., for free in the community colleges back home. That would have been just the thing for me back when I was a young adult there. At my age, I think I'm going to take my chances with Social Security and busking, but it's great to see a program like that in place. 

Of course the young people using Hana Career Pathways will have to arrange how to live while taking the program, but most people in Hawaii, being non-white, actually have supportive families. And, I wish I'd known it at the time, but a lot of money can be made working half-time waiting tables or the old reliable panhandling (or busking, which pays a bit less but allowed you to keep some dignity). 

I'm getting to like this early schedule so far. I got in an hour of practice on the flute, photo'd up a batch of things to list on Ebay, and packed a dozen things. 

Unfortunately, I was about to head out with the things and my bike's front tire was as flat as a pancake. It's an old, thin tire and the tube I had in there was a really weird one that, when you pump it up, the valve stem inflates also. That's where it failed. So, no going out today.

Celebrating 1 million deaths

 Somehow last night I was tired, and went to bed sometime between 9 and 10. That's actually the ideal, for someone who would get up at 6 or certainly by 7. In fact, if I were living an ideal life, it would be perfect. 

Yes I plan to be a busker as my retirement career, but I don't plan to do this late-night stuff some buskers swear by. Yes I'm sure the tips are better late at night in Waikiki, but I won't need that much money to get by day to day, and I'll take less tips and playing for little kids and entranced Japanese tourists any day. I'll leave the night scene in "Waiks" with the break dancers, people selling LED light geegaws, and nervous undercurrents alone.

I woke up at 6AM, went back to sleep and had one of my occasional horrible dreams where scummy, low-class, street type people essentially move into my place and I can't displace them. It was a relief waking up again at 9. 

I'm not against the class system, not by a long shot. I'm just against the clumsy application of the class system, "social surgery" applied with a hatchet instead of a scalpel. Here on the mainland the classes are determined by gross measurements like how expensive a car you drive, what's in your bank account, and so on. There are a few places where it's been less crude and more properly applied. 

One example is old New Orleans, where it wasn't just a literal black-and-white skin color thing, but where one's education and background mattered and a single educated Creole Of Color was worth any number of low-class whites and would take care, sensibly, from being anywhere near same. 

Another example is Asia and the example I've seen up close is in Hawaii, where there are people who are obviously not trash, but may have barely two nickels to rub together. Regardless of her snobbishness, my older sister really is well-read and educated, yet she was very poor for a while. I was, of course, but looking back, the rather decent English I inherited from my father and my ideas of fun - read books or poking around at the beach - were a universe away from those of the actual white underclass, whose tastes run more to getting drunk/high, doing their own tattoos, and fighting. 

In Asian culture you can be poor as hell but if you excel in something decent like writing, music, culture of some sort, that's what matters. If I can become competent on the shakuhachi, no one's going to ask what's in my bank account. That's not how the greater part of the world, Asia and Asia-adjacent, works. 

But for now I'm still in the US and what matters here is numbers. We seem to be celebrating 1 million deaths due to covid, and as the Reddit poster WernerHerzogWasRight says, 

"The NYT laments 1 MiL Covid deaths. Little does anyone care, we are forecast to have 100 mil cases and another whole million dead by December. Our government response: to stop paying for booster shots. We are expected to die for capitalism." 

So, 2 million deaths total, which is in line with a thing I read long ago now saying that for covid to be like the 1918 flu, we "need" to have 2 million deaths. No doubt we'll make it - we're a can-do nation. 

So, China, the world's leading superpower, is at least trying for a zero covid policy, probably because they've read "science books" or something and know the more cases, the more chances for variants. And the US has a "let it rip" policy. 

If there's one thing I can point to that's different between Asian cultures and our own, it's that in our own culture, it's survival of the fittest taken to the extreme and if you're weak due to being old, young, injured, etc. you're just supposed to die. It's why the US had a policy of making sure covid-positive workers got into nursing homes and the whole thing shut up like an incubator to kill off as many of the old people as possible. That a few working-class workers died was just a bonus. Also, the policy was to get covid-positive people into jails and prisons, let the whole thing incubate for a week or two, then let tons of prisoners out to further spread the disease. 

Asians in general dote on their kids and want them to do well in life, among whites it's "You'd better earn your keep and you're weak if you're not working full time by the time you're 14". Asians treasure their old people, while anyone reading this knows in the West the old are put into hellish "nursing" homes to be killed off. Which is the longer-lived, more successful culture, that invented everything? It's sure not the West.

High speed

 I got things ready to list which involved "washing" these modules with Windex then rinsing with rubbing alcohol then letting my little fan-heater run on them for a while, "cooking" them dry. 

Later last night I decided to try messing with the cornet and see how hard it is to put the new "high speed" valve springs in. It turned out to be really easy. And no more bouncy valves and fighting the thing. I put the old ones in a bag I marked "slow speed" springs. Unfortunately there are some sort of cork composite washers in there that were old and brittle and I broke ones in half. 

I did a good hour of octave exercises on the flute head joint last night so that's good. Yes fingering and all that need work but I felt too tired to concentrate and that fundamental breath is ... fundamental. 

To mess around with the cornet I had to play it a bit and ... meh. I think I really am coming to like the flute sound more. The cornet felt like a clunky way to get a tune out.

Before "Red" the flute player dropped out of sight, he'd been invited and I believe paid, by the hole-in-the-wall Chinese bakery in Mountain View to play out front. Would he have been as welcome if he played a trumpet? I don't think so. Although the best trumpet player I've heard of anyone, anywhere is a Japanese guy named Kikuta-san, trumpet isn't that big in Asian cultures. Flute is. 

I could probably play by 99 Ranch Market and it'd be OK, whereas with my trumpet they'd tell me to get outta there. I could probably try playing at the big Vietnamese cultural center  I visited at Chinese New Year. As always, my rule is if I'm told to go, I go, but I'd honestly give these places a try with the flute. 

I got going around 2, dropped off trash far away from here as usual, and rode over to the O'Reilley's Auto Parts because I remembered that there's this gasket material that's made of the same stuff as the 70-year-old spacers in my cornet valves. There is, but I'd have to buy a big roll of it for $10 so I went over to Ace Hardware and found some neoprene-rubber washers that looked the right size and those only cost me $3. 

Done with that, I rode over to this row of antique stores on San Carlos and looked through them. I found one flute, not a Yamaha but a Gemeinhardt, and saw some silver coins but those were overpriced. I didn't buy anything. 

I rode back and since I went right by the Recycle Book Store and had some store credit, I went in and found a copy of Stand On Zanzibar by John Brunner. Decades ago, I'd heard of one of his other books, The Shockwave Rider, that was supposed to predict the internet and I read it hoping to be amazed and he was pretty meh. But I keep hearing about Stand On Zanzibar and it might be pretty good. 

I rode over to Whole Foods and locked up the bike and because it was the "2nd Saturday On The Alameda" there was a guy there with guitars and a mic and so on, set up in the eating area. I got a package of salami with peppercorns in it and a near-beer and went over and asked him flat out but nicely of course, how much they pay him to play. He said $200 which said was decent and we were off and talking. 

I told him about my trumpet playing and said one thing about trumpet is people can hear me "whether they want to or not" we agreed. I told him about how I was getting pretty into the flute and he said the "whole flute family" is great and we talked about other things a bit like the social scene here of which there isn't one. 

He started to play and I moved away to eat. He played some slide stuff but not "traditional" blue slide but some sort of slide playing of his own. It was OK. His name is Rusty Shackleford or something and he's local here in San Jose although he said he plays in Monterey a lot. (That's not too bad a drive, really, and if you make a wrong turn you get to explore Sand City which has ... well .... lots of sand.) 

I'd paid for my food with my card and got some groceries with cash I had, so I'm about $5 over my self-imposed limit of only spending half of my pay check, so I guess that's pretty good. One thing's true: If I'm busking with any regularity, saving tons of money is easy.

Nothing but flowers

 I listed 10 Ebay things last night and practiced, getting a bit over an hour in. It went better than expected and that's to be expected, since I'm so new to the game still. If I practice regularly I'll improve rapidly. The two new notes are F and E, and what's funny is, F is the first finger on the right hand down, just like in trumpet, and E is the first two fingers on the right hand down, again just like trumpet. So that's kind of funny. 

Last night Ken brought me a package from good old Flute World that was a little bottle of some stuff called "pad juice" that's supposed to be good for, well, pads. And a book called Servicing The Flute which is a little 45-page thing, almost a booklet. I thought, "Wow, I paid $18 for this?" but it's got a lot in there about pads and bumpers and adjustments and the head cork, which is just what I wanted and has great illustrations. It seems to cover what you'd do in a COA (clean, oil, adjust) service and also replacing pads and the various corks. 

I'm due, I believe, a free COA for my new flute within a year of having bought it, and will take advantage of that and in fact I don't want to do any work on it myself if I can avoid it because duh, $2k new flute. But the used one I just got is fair game. And there's another one out there on Craig's List I'd like to snag if I can. I'd like to make a bit of a hobby of finding and fixing up made-in-Japan Yamaha flutes while they can still be obtained cheaply. 

I got up at just a bit after 3, and was riding out of here at 10 to 4. My first stop was the temple where I dropped off my pledge, kind of surprised at myself for being this late in the month. Then the post office where I dropped of a few Ebay things. Then the bank where I found that apparently the lazy IRS still hasn't cashed any of my checks. Well, in your own time, guys, meanwhile I'll keep my books in order. 

I went to Whole Foods and the buffet was really wiped out so I got a package of salami and a near-beer (they stock the Athletic Brewing IPA which is about my favorite) and ate and drank. Then I went to CVS and they've not restocked their A1C tester but I found some store brand foot powder and got that and some stamps - I only got the stamps because they had one of those in-store announcement things about how handy it is to get stamps there, so for that one time it worked. 

Next was the hardware store, where I got one of those things you put charcoal into to light it, sort of like an oversized mug with a handle, that you put some coals into, light them, then dump it out onto your fire. The reason for this is to use it to "shred" sensitive papers. I'd been putting my sensitive papers in a bag each week and burying them under one of the trash bags in the welding place's trash can, but Lo and behold, last night the bike-riding zombie had ransacked that trash can and I was worried about the papers falling into the wrong hands. I'd been trying to build my own "burner" for years and they've never worked out that well so now I finally have something that ought to work well. 

Then it was back over to Whole Foods for some shopping. When I'd first arrived to lock up the bike, there'd been one of those booths there with a couple people hustling everyone who walked by, and a Gypsy with two zonked-out kids and a large but unreadable cardboard begging sign set up where the cars go in out. After shopping, the booth and the Gypsies were gone, and now the scene was dominated by a skinny black crackhead lady whose habit is to scatter trash all over the place and generally get in people's faces until, I guess, someone gives her some money to go away and she goes and buys her crack the. end. 

As I rode out of there, I observed a zombiemobile, one of those old full-sized proto-SUVs, painted flat black and perhaps a window or two missing, with a shirtless zombie and one clad in what looked like a grab-bag of Dumpstered clothes, so I was glad to be outta there. 

I stopped at Nijiya on the way back for, yep, more shopping. J-town was pretty busy too. As I went out, the bench near where I had my bike parked had a dad and two little kids, who were carousing around and having a good time and I was wondering at how wonderful that is, and Mom came up and said something like "It's all day.." to me, and I said when we were kids we used to watch Kikaida on TV and so we'd do Kikaida stuff and our parents must have been really tired of it. We had a good laugh. "See? He's going to ride on the bike!" she said to the kids. "Actually, this is Zhaboga, (who morphs between robot-hero and motorcycle of course) and he's just pretending to be a bike, and he's giving me a ride home!" I said. Good times. 

The End Times wind had me slowed down riding home and it was a long slog, but I didn't have any zombie problems. And I'd found three books at the little free libraries: Lolita in Nabokov which I've wanted to read, "The Murder Of Adolf Hitler" complete with dental diagrams and photos, a good one to trade in at the book store, and a set of US maps on CD for Apple by National Geographic which is a good "prepper" item for that twilight time when the internet's no longer a thing but electricity still is. 

I had plenty of time to think, about the cheerful bands of the 80s and 90s like The Talking Heads, but then the 'Heads had also done "Life During Wartime" and "(Nothing But) Flowers" and I had that song in my head the rest of the way home. It's supposed to be a sad song and yet it's wildly, unrealistically optimistic as it assumes people will go and Nature will be fine, while instead it seems that Man will take Nature with him, leaving a cooking world. 

I got in here with the wind howling as I closed the door as if it was singing the blues over not getting to blow me over or something.

Oh no $5 gas

 I got back from my post office and FedEx run, cooked up "burger in a bowl" and was busily putting things I'd listed away (I had a large amount built up) when Ken called and said he'd not come by but come the next night because he'd forgotten his check book. 

Since I'd started putting things away I just continued doing that and pre-packed about 10-11 things, and got a batch of 10 things ready to list but that, combined with some re-arranging and re-organizing, left me pretty tired. 

I set up to practice before bed and got in about a half-hour, mostly the octave exercise which I'm getting better at. Blowing octaves on the whole flute is easy compared to doing them on the headjoint alone, so it's a good exercise and I get the impression James Galway does it every day. 

I woke up around 2:30, in plenty of time to go to the bank if I were going to the bank today but I'm not. 

There's the usual stuff on the radio, and on Reddit r/preppers, they're freaking out over $5 gas. I remember $7+ gas in Arizona in 2008-2009. In fact that was a major reason why I wanted to leave there; because I realized that if gas suddenly became unavailable, the population would be bottled up there. Those few with enough gas in their tanks to leave would be shot trying to get out by those without. That's the American mentality. California prices for rent, right-wing politics (it's since become a lot worse) and no jobs at all were other reasons. 

It was easy to pack things as I had 11/13 of them pre-packed and the other two were simple to find and pack. I took off at my usual time, and it was the usual game of "Avoid The Zombie" as I fought the wind on my way to the post office. I veered over to the "wrong" side of the street to avoid an old decrepit proto-SUV with some zombies in it, then veered again to give a wide berth around a skinny zombie, shambling along. This one was a skinny black guy, pretty decently dressed and wearing a trilby hat. The thing nodded at me politely and in return I said, "Hullo, Mr. Zombie" and rode on. 

I did my drop-offs and did my usual snooping around for packing stuff on my way back - I only found one box I wanted. 

I got back in here and cooked up sausage with garlic and green pepper and eggs, all scrambled together and that was my big meal for the day. I packed a couple more things to go out tomorrow, and after a while Ken came by. 

I got my paycheck and we had the usual talking session about a ton of different subjects. It's always a good time. After he left, I did my usual stay up all night thing and the zombie circulation here is amazing. There was a zombie on a bike that ransacked the trash can the welding place had put out, and the zombie car that has its trunk bungee'd closed circulated through a few times. One reason they might come through here is that zombie vehicles generally can barely move under their own power and can't handle bumps at all and the parking lot is smooth while the road outside the complex is extremely bumpy and rough - typical for Silicon Valley. 

My point is that one must always be on the watch for the undead around here. There is no hour of the day or night when you can be sure one won't be prowling around, hungering for brains. We have a guy running for mayor, named Mahan, who has ads talking about zombie control and of course our governor is talking about same so maybe they'll start rounding 'em up but until then, watchful is the word.

As the world crashes.

 I got in over an hour's practice last night and am just to where I'm learning two more low notes, F and E.  One big problem is the flute shifting around and it making my tone go to shit. I'm still so new at this I guess it's to be expected. 

One thing I think that is a factor is that I'm playing an "intermediate" flute instead of a student flute. I believe the head joint is different as I've said, capable of producing a richer tone but trickier. Whereas with a student flute, it's easier to get a consistent, if a bit "meh" tone. 

I have, besides another flute repair book, a little bottle of stuff for flute pads coming in. I'm not sure if I'll get this stuff tonight or next week as it's delivered to Ken's house. I want to go over the pads on the student flute with the stuff, and I also want to replace the head cork. I've been thinking of going to Mountain View to West Valley Music to see if they'll sell me one but thought about it today and the train fare alone is more than a cork would cost me on Amazon, and there's no guarantee they'll sell me one anyway. 

I went to bed at 6AM and woke up around 2 this afternoon. I started the day with some push-ups and neck exercises as I'll have to get into an exercise routine again - if I'm going to be a serious flute player I need to be in good shape. This is my plan as the world crashes. 

For some reason this was only a draft until I hit "publish" just now. Again and again and again I see it: People fast, computers slow. 

I packed 10 things and two of them were big so it was a slow ride in the End Times wind up to the post office and FedEx. I found some packing stuff plus an ... oxygen concentrator? I checked a new dumpster I go by all the time but never check and there were a lot of interesting things in there, computer/biomed stuff but the one thing I was sure of was the concentrator in its bag with manuals etc so I grabbed that. 

Speaking of freebees, I just can't get that interested in flogging stuff on Craig's List so I put the chair over by the taco truck that's nearby because places like that can always use an extra chair, put the clown drawing outside where it got taken pretty quickly I think for the possible gold content of the frame, and as for the bike shoes, the innersoles appear to be missing so eh. But an oxygen concentrator might be worth a bit if it works. It was just grab and go and I'll look at it later. 

Bong Bong

 I was up all night again. At least I got well over an hour's practice in. I'm on pages 16-17 now. 

Bong Bong Marcos is the new President of the Philippines now. I remember in the 80s when Michael Qseng, the popular DJ on 93FM-Q which we listened to all day, talked to him on the phone because he was there in Hawaii, hiding out with his dad, the deposed Ferdinand Marcos. He asked him how he got the name Bong Bong, because even though he was Filipino himself, he'd never heard of that nickname. 

I suspect he'll outdo Duterte in both corruption and violence, and do his father proud. 

I'm still corresponding with my evil moneybags aunt. She's a horrible person, but she keeps leaking information about that side of my family that I find interesting. It's like being able to talk to Himmler or even the charming Hermann Goering, sitting in the dock there in Nuremberg. Utterly horrible people you look forward to seeing hang but in the meantime interesting to talk to out of morbid curiosity. The old bat can't be that much longer for this world and would leave it with me owing *her* money somehow if there were a way to. 

I got 20 Ebay things listed and then, it being almost midnight, had some tuna salad and called it a day.

Switching schedule

 Since I'd stayed up all night the night before, last night I went to bed before 10PM. I woke up around 4AM I think, and went back to sleep until about 7AM which was perfect. 

I read all of "Losing Moses On The Freeway" by Chris Hedges, which I'd only bought because it was a Hedges book I hadn't heard of but it was so good that I red it all through. 

It's weird, windy and cool weather. I guess it might be a another month before I change over to "summer uniform". 

But one good thing is, I've not spent a dime all weekend and should not need to until payday. If I can't save half of each paycheck at least I can save as close to that as I can.

Red Bull gum?

 Since I woke up so late, I ended up staying up all night. I was actually starting to tire, but wanted to get some practice in so after brushing and flossing I chewed my usual sugar-free gum which is some regular Xylitol gum and a piece or two of "Black Black" gum from Japan, which I'm using the last of the "chiclet" pieces of, since I've discovered the good stuff, that comes in little sticks. 

I know the stuff has caffeine in it, but I'm beginning to think it's got some mix of other things in there too that make it like Red Bull - makes me awake without being jittery. 

I looked around on YouTube for things to watch, and heard a noise outside. It was about midnight. A bum was out there on a bike, what looked like a couple of push brooms out in the parking lot, while the bum rode circles on his bike. Then the bum went into the trash enclosure with the dumpster in it, for the longest time. Then he went out, collected the push brooms I guess, and did a little side-trip to the place two doors down to take a push broom from there. And was gone. 

I went out ostensibly to throw something away and notice that the bike someone had put into the dumpster, a whole bike, was gone. So maybe that's where the bum got the bike - no wonder he was riding happy circles. 

I settle down for a bit and hear a "grrrr" - a bum car. Said bum car pulls up and Passenger Bum gets out and adjusts the bungee cord that's holding the trunk closed, and gets back in but not before they do a couple of odd circles in the parking lot, then they take off. 

Then the same bum car comes back and it's one bum in there, who sits in the car, and sits and sits. I'm wondering if they're waiting for another bum or what, when they finally leave. 

And I finally practice, for about an hour and a half. I need to do a lot more of it, practicing, not observing bums. I'd say the Wye book is great for having little etudes that sound pretty good even with the limited number of notes a new student can play. B-A-G, G#, and C; that's where I am now. No wonder Wye gets into slurs and dotted notes and a few different time signatures right away. 

The other book I have, "The Complete Flute Player" by John Sands which I've got all four books of, gets into some pretty neat stuff once I've learned a few more notes. It's based on learning popular music while the Wye book is based on classical and only gets as "popular" as a few folk songs. I figure the Wye books will be the core of my study and the "Complete" books a good way to learn some pop songs too.

The French Connection

 The guy from France came over last night to pick up his instruments. It eventually ended up being at about 11 at night. It took him a while to figure out how to get in here from the street out front. It was pretty crazy. But he eventually, after getting directions from the lunch truck place, came zooming in and we loaded his stuff up and took a quick look in the "Ebay Store" to see what else we had listed he might want (he wanted Scientific Atlanta stuff and rattled off a whole history of the company up to what they're called now which I forget) and that was that. Tiring for me, but more so for him as he'd apparently been all over the Southern half of California picking things up that he'd been kept from doing by Covid. 

I slept in until 2 in the afternoon. Sure, I was up at 7, but went right back to bed. 

At least I'd practiced last night, octave exercises on the head joint. There's a sweet spot, where the tone is more pure and the octave is easy and pure also. That's what to aim for. 

I had weird dreams and woke up a bit disoriented. The wind's howling outside and I've spent a bit over my self-imposed limit so I have to not spend anything, or if I'm going to spend anything I have to go out and busk for it first, or use some of my cash savings which I'd already dipped into to buy the student flute and which I'd rather not do.

I saved a moth

 Yesterday, when I was in the Amazon place picking up bubble mailers, I saw a movement near the window. I looked and saw a large moth, which I crouched down and caught without too much difficulty. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna eat'cha" I said, and let it go outside. So at least I did one good thing. 

I went to sleep after eating a bento (except for the rice) and watching a couple things on YouTube about Philip K. Dick. It was maybe 1, or 1:30. I woke up at 11PM! 

The French guy had emailed me and said he's shooting for about 4PM tomorrow. 

I'm still corresponding with my evil moneybags old aunt. Her daughter had come to visit us when I was a teen, in Hawaii. She's expected, I think, to have us wait on her hand and foot while she spent her money on fun. Instead, finding us as poor as we were, she actually spent her money on food for us. She was actually pretty nice. I'm sure that's been trained out of her by now. 

My aunt swears she's a wonderful person but what's a wonderful person to the rich is very different from what I might consider a wonderful person. My aunt might leave unsaid, "She's the most wonderful daughter, why, just yesterday she kicked a blind beggar in the face!".  This aunt was appalled that her daughter had actually cares about us and fed us. 

When I last communicated with her daughter, K., K. wanted me to drop everything and go to the Southeast and work for her for free. That would be a standard attitude for the rich; since I had a few plates of scrambled eggs with chili on top, I now owe her my life or some damn shit. I had a small shop and an Ebay business starting to do well and could not drop everything especially not to work for free, and I remember K. getting very indignant and emotional that I would not. How dare a member of the slave class say No. The phone call ended there. 

I still want to communicate with her out of a sick curiosity, and also I want to be very well motivated if I get the chance to stick a few heads of the rich on pikes. It's always well to feel good about one's work! The thing is, she and the evil old bat use text to communicate and I'm sticking with my flip phone as long as I can. I even told the old evil one that it's a simple matter of technology mismatch and that in another year or two I'll probably have a smart phone because those things are just great for texting. 

Because I really don't have credit, it means marching into the local Verizon place and paying cash for whatever is the current Samsung, to the tune of $800 or more, but at least I'd not be paying that much more in interest. I can also get a cheaper plan that way. 

But I actually have to watch my money a bit. Last week, the teller at the bank had to hand-write in my account balance after my deposit and I think he put a 6 where there should have been a 9, because yesterday I had more money in there than I can explain otherwise. The IRS still hasn't cashed my checks, and I show a bit over 7 grand in there. That means about $2500 that's actually mine. 

Spending about $4500 on musical instruments in short order doesn't help, but the way things are going to shit, I consider it cheap money because when you can't get instruments any more at all because world trade is gone and a can of beans is $10, it's going to feel really good to have them. As Selco noted in his experiences in the Yugoslavia breakup, a willowy, long-haired, guitar geek did just fine because there was no electricity, no radio, and no music. Warlords would kill buff guys on a whim, but this guy was protected because he was the only source of music. 

The student Yamaha flute I just got was $200 out of busking savings. 

I just sent off for another flute repair book and a little bottle of flute pad stuff that's supposed to be good, from Flute World. That place is pretty amazing. They've got a shop up in the city that I want to visit but not until I'm able to go up there and busk also. I can't spend more than an hour in their shop no matter how wonderful it might be, but a couple hours busking could pay for the trip. It's about $20 for the train, call it $20 for lunch, and let's say I spend $20 on a book at Flute World. With busking that turns a $60 hole in my finances into a nice fun time and another book. 

There's nothing but bad news online and on the radio. The Russians are being complete and utter bastards, of course. And the US is lurching toward becoming (even more of) a backward hellhole on a par with Hungary or apartheid South Africa. 

I stayed up all night taking this prototype thing apart because no one wants a prototype but the various parts are good. Except I'll have to saw the case open to get the motor and the peristaltic pump assembly out. 

That took me right around to morning, and I packed a thing or two and got some trash ready to take out, and counted out and packed a *lot* of capacitors a guy had ordered. I really did this up, packing them in concentric boxes and insuring it and so on, because I'd charged the guy enough shipping to cover that and more. 

I left here around 9:30 in the morning and stopped at the lunch truck across from Tom's and got a couple of chicken skewers, for which I was charged $6. I went over in front of Tom's place to eat them and he was there, so he made me a small, strong cup of coffee and we talked about things. He's headed off to Alaska for the next month and he's not been practicing his trumpet. 

He asked how my playing had been going but never gave me a chance to explain that I'm trying the flute instead. That's OK because in a month I might be ready to busk with the flute and will have an idea of what kind of money I can make playing it. 

At least there will be tons more repertoire since I'll have more than an octave or a bit more than an octave of range. 

Tom's phone rang and he had to answer it and I said Bye and took off. I dropped off stuff at the post office and then locked the bike up at H Mart and took the FedEx package to FedEx, and got a roll of plastic bags at H Mart because the one I got a few years ago is getting really thin. 

Then I went to Lowe's and got a gallon of Windex, a new nail brush for the bathroom, and a new spindle thing for the toilet paper holder. 

On the way back here I stopped at another lunch truck and got a "combo" breakfast sandwich for my remaining $4, and when I got back here put the bread out for the birds and put hot sauce on the egg, bacon, ham, cheese and sausage part and ate that. 

Eventually I dug out the set of 3 instruments the guy's supposed to come by to pick up, and cleaned them up, and have them all ready to go. It's a matter now of staying up until about 9PM I guess, then I'll sleep until 6 or 7 in the morning, then decide what I want to do on a nice Saturday.