I practiced a bit last night, shinobue and shakuhachi. I really have to consider myself a raw beginner and all I can do is get that practice in, day in and day out.
When I'm back in Hawaii if I'm smart I'll arrange my life to work as little as possible with the exception of going out busking of course. I'll make use of the 2X a week shakuhachi practice sessions held at the Buddhism center near the university in Manoa, and in very circumstance will ask myself, "Do I want to earn money to do or buy X, or can I either get by without X or obtain X in another way?"
If I get all caught up in starting an Ebay business there I'm sure it will go fine but then I'll be just as busy with that as I am here, with not much time at all for the shakuhachi.
And Hawaii is the next best thing to actually living in Japan. I'm feeling more and more fortunate that I can say I grew up there, went to this and that school, worked at this and that business, learned to fish, surf, collect shells, throw a net, etc at this and that beach, etc.
It took me over an hour to pack two things, a large oscilloscope and another instrument that sold for a lot of money so it was to be packed well, and was half filled inside by a bunch of heavy (dead) batteries.
I got those things up to FedEx, against a very cold wind - at least it was sunny. As I turned onto Junction Avenue, so were a pair of scumbags, at least one of them with a bike trailer, the other one with a bunch of crap loaded on its bike and wearing orange. This was a problem because against the strong End Times wind, at least the trailerless one had a speed advantage against me plus some of these meth-addled crackheads are capable of some real bursts of energy.
I went to the other side of the road and tried to make good headway, hoping to tire them out. The one with the trailer turned off somewhere, and while the one in orange followed for a bit, I made my way via the parking lots of the various businesses and apparently the 2nd scumbag either had business elsewhere or decided I wasn't worth it. To those creatures one's life is worth maybe a pack of cigarettes so I was glad to be rid of them and it was a nice feeling to turn onto Brokaw.
A fellow bicyclist came up behind me and asked if I minded if he went ahead and I said I didn't mind a bit and we talked about how nice the weather is for riding right now.
I got to H Mart and parked the bike by the bike racks and ducked in to buy a can of BOSS coffee. The bum was there and hustled me for money cigarettes, the usual. There was no sign that the bum even recognized me; I'm pretty sure bums recognize individual humans less than the average human recognizes a particular soda machine at their workplace, in both cases thing to get something out of. "I don't have anything, I'm down to nickels and dimes right now", I said. This would be hard to put across to a fellow human, as I obviously had a somewhat expensive can of coffee in my hand. But with a bum, it's kind of on the order of fooling a dog into thinking you've thrown something just by making the motion.
I pushed the bike up to FedEx and dropped off my big heavy packages, and noticed someone had left a Pizza My Heart box on top of the trash can. I checked it out and there was a slice in there that looked like ham and cheese or something. I put the box on the trailer and rode back over to the bum, who was hustling someone who was just trying to get into their car. "Hey, I brought you some pizza" I said, and the bum let their latest victim get away and took the box and hustled off with it.
The bum probably needs all the calories it can get in this cold weather. Once the sun gets low it gets really cold this time of year. By the time I got back here I had to wear my gloves.
I stopped off at Tom's because I had 7 cans of spaghetti and "pasta" sauce to give him out of the latest food bomb. He was there and happy to see me. He'd gotten the bag of fruit I'd left hanging on his door last night "I've been snacking on it all day" and I gave him the cans of sauce which he was happy for. "You see," I said, "When one of your bums says they've not eaten all day, you can boil up a pot of spaghetti, throw some sauce on it, and they're taken care of".
Tom has a few pet bums and of course I'd had to talk to one of them before knocking on the door and talking with Tom and giving him the stuff. Thinking about what I had on hand, I asked Tom if he likes garbanzo beans - it turns out he really does. (So do I, if I'm not on a low-carb diet) and I said I can bring him plenty. He likes white beans and pinto beans also, and peanut butter so I said I'll bring those things by.
Tom even admitted that for dinner last night he'd had some of the spaghetti with the chili I'd brought by. I said it's the best bachelor food since it's so easy to cook, and said right now I have 48 pounds of it stashed away as "prepper stores".
I got back here and sorted the cans of food into "for Tom" and not so, and took the not so stuff and put it over by the railroad signal, then loaded up the step stool and checked the medical place where I found ... one smallish box. That was all. Plus it's freezing out there.
This is how it is here. It may not be busking weather until May.
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