Saturday night havdalah

 I actually woke up around 7:30AM then went back to sleep until maybe 10:30 but it's progress. 

Yesterday was a full one. I had to get  some things out, 4 small and one BIG. I was up in time to pack them, the BIG one of course stays here until I can get it to FedEx, which I told the customer about and he's OK with it. 

I had the things packed, myself cleaned up, all that sort of thing and was out the door, walking, at 3 in the afternoon. I walked out to the light rail with my packages. When  I got to Brokaw, some bum on a bike came up behind me, growled/yelled something about saying sorry and losing all their money and rode off. I think it was James, the bum Tom has been far too friendly to. 

I got to the light rail station and the machine didn't even register my Clipper card with $2.40 on it as a far is $2.50. I'd brought exact change just in case and just bought a paper ticket. 

I got off at St. James where among other things there was a table set up where there are give-aways for the bums. I walked right past it and as I approached, the lady said "We're out of food for today" and I said, "That's OK I'm just passing through". 

I'd also had some guy dash up to me at the light rail station to yell some Bible quote, something like Dyspepsia 3.14 or some shit. I was like, "OK". Then at the St. James light rail station, the same guy, same quote. I said, "OK, I'll check it when I get home where my Bible is". Weirdo. 

I got to the post office and offloaded my packages, then walked over to the VTA customer service office because I'd not seen the new one (the old one was maybe 2 doors down and a bit too palatial for the purpose) and went in and put $20 on my Clipper card. The lady there was nice and we talked about how handy public transit can be. 

Then I waited at the nearby bus stop - forever it felt like - for a #22 bus which I rode up to the used book store. I picked up a really terrific book on Fighting Antisemitism which was published 5 years ago which means it's probably drawing on material for a year or two before that, and it's amazing. All this stuff happening now, is described in that book. The rot in the Left, all of it. 

The other one's from the mid-70s and about that ship that tried to get Jewish refugees to Cuba and was turned back. I read all of the first one today and a bit of the 2nd. My new reading glasses are too strong for normal reading, but will still come in handy if I have to work on teeny circuit board stuff. I'll get some that are a bit weaker next time I got to Walmart. 

I waited at the bus stop by the book store because I wanted to minimize walking, but again it too forever for a #22 to show up. 

I rode to Whole Foods and got some chicken and rice and a little 4-pack of small bottles of Chardonnay because it's a lot cheaper that way, drank one and stashed the rest in my backpack. I ate and relaxed and people-watched a bit, and for a few minutes watched a guy's bike that he parked near me. 

Pretty soon it was time to hop on another bus to the temple, where I was early so I started reading the first book a bit about the ship, and also made friends with the little group of 3-4 people who are younger than I am who are in a group called "Jewish And Newish". 

The service got underway and we sang our cowboy songs and did prayers and stuff. I like to think the singing will help me as a musician. Then we went to the banquet room and did our prays over bread and wine and had bread and wine. The wine is Manischewitz. It's not good; it's ceremonial. The bread this time was like "Hawaiian" sweet bread. I thought to myself, Ugh, reminds me too much of high school. The food was the usual meh. It was OK and I've fallen into the habit of getting some hummus and something to scoop the hummus with so usually pita bread slices, and then maybe some cheese, and this time there were raw green peas which I love so I had those. Then I get a cup of black coffee. 

We all hung out and ate and I told the rabbit how I, and some others apparently, thought the dinner before the service was a pot luck until someone sent around an email saying it's not and it's teachers only and we regular folks just need to come to the 7:00 service. And by that time I'd started out to get halvah but I could not find the halvah of 50+ years ago but I saw they had boxes of chocolate coins because everyone likes chocolate coins! So am I ever going to be ready for Hanukkah. He got a laugh out of that. 

Afterward, I waited a long time (again) for a #22 bus. I think they're running less #22's and more #522's. I rode up to first street because there are twice the number of light rail trains going through that station. I got there and had 15 minutes or so until one was due, so I walked over to see if this old place, Skewers And Brew, was open. It was! 

Somehow the guy who started it/owns it knows me from the electronics / ham radio / surplus field, and he wanted to replicate the kind of cheap, good street food that's available late at night in Taiwan where his wife is from. I was flabbergasted to see the place running and doing fine. They just specialize in late nights when it's busy downtown. I ordered one lamb skewer which was $3 and it was ready and in my hand in a few minutes. 

I walked back over to the light rail station and ended up standing where, eating my delicious lamb skewer and listening to a band that was playing out on the sidewalk, amplifiers and electric guitars, mostly playing Hispanic stuff because Cinco de Mayo is coming up, but one piece was an instrumental that only the lead guitarist played. 

Like so many pieces of music I know, I have no idea what the name of it is, or the composer. It's from classical music, I'm pretty sure, and it seems like the kind of thing Rachmaninoff would have played, and maybe even composed. Very said, plaintive even, and yet with majesty. And here I was, hearing it on a twangy Stratocaster and it was glorious. The guy played it perfectly as far as I could tell, perfect rhythm, and I did that thing where you kind of wave your hands like you're conducting, to show I was really getting a kick out of it. I should have run over when the guitarist was done and gotten the name of it, but they went right into the next banging Mexican number and my train was coming anyway. 

I got on the train and a couple who were standing up (it was pretty full) complimented me on my yellow jacket. "Oh, this is just a cheapie I got on Amazon to be seen when I ride my bike". We talked about things, they know the best restaurants in Japantown and so on, and I complimented the guy's jacket which he got at Sports Basement which I didn't know was still in business but I guess it is so I'll have to check them out. 

They got off in Japantown and now the crowd had thinned out. At Gish I'm pretty sure, it's always Gish ... a crazy guy got on who was waving his arms around and yelling and well, acting crazy. I stood up when we got near Karina, my station, an an Indian, student or engineer type guy got up from the back to get away from the crazy guy and picked a seat near me. I tried to give him a reassuring look. An older, kind of "hood" looking black guy was getting off at Karina too, and he said to the crazy guy in a bit of a commanding voice that he needs to stop acting crazy because he's making people uncomfortable. 

The black guy and I got off and ended up walking together while the crazy guy had also gotten off, but headed the other way and was throwing metal pipes around. Meanwhile me and the guy talked about how they never should have shut down Agnews (loony bin) and how these people can't be expected get better on their own, and they may never get better - they need some kind of managed living situation. "Really I just feel sorry for them" the guy said. 

Meanwhile the nut was still throwing stuff around, it was easy to hear. Two tall skinny black guys were in front of the hotel there and I said to them that they might want to be careful if they're getting on the light rail because of the crazy guy who's throwing metal pipes. "Clang!" went a pipe. Those guys were very thankful so that was a nice thing to do. We all have to avoid the crazies. 

The walk home was uneventful, except it was past 10, late at night. So I had dinner, wine, and went to bed. 

Today besides the required relaxation and lazing around reading books, once it was 9 at night I got the new bike tire and tube out, my bottle of Slime, and tools, gave the bike and wheels a good cleaning first, then put what was on the rear wheel on the front, discarding the tire that was on the front. Then getting out the new tube and installing Slime, and putting the new tire on there and putting it all back together. Then washed my hair and shaved because washing my hair is the most effective way to get the bike junk off of my hands after using strong solvent which still leaves some. 

My little alarm clock seems to work fine, and is dirt-simple to operate. 

It rained cats and dogs during the day but stopped in the afternoon, but as I write at 1AM it's raining again. 

I should add that there was, as usual, a cop in his car out in front of the temple and as the service let out, people were talking to him and I kind of wanted to know if the police were cracking down on street bums more since the attempted attack on the Mayor. He said the security guy is a new one and the guy who was the Mayor's security for 25 years and had just retired, "would have destroyed the guy". 

We got talking about survivalism and I said it's like a religion, where you run off into the woods and are supposed to survive on one deer for the next 10 years. He thinks running off, far away, with 10 or so people "Who think exactly like you" is the only answer. He also thinks Biden's this dangerous Fascist, and not Trump. We talked a bit back and forth and it was friendly, and I hope to see him again because I want to tell him about the sources that, along with my own experience, have led me to the conclusions I have. Namely, the survival writers "Selco" and "FarFal". When you're a survival writer, you get a cool name, just like being in the Bolshevik Revolution. 

Also while talking with the cop, a kid with his mother came up and the kid went up to the car window and asked for a sticker. The cop was out of 'em and the kid was *really* disappointed. He wanted a sticker so badly! Well, on the way over I'd picked up a sticker off of the grass, that had a design with an eagle kind of like the National Recovery Act eagle. Probably for a skateboard company or something. So I said to the kid, "I've for a sticker for you" and dug it out of the book I'd tucked it into, and gave it to him and he was happy.