A lot of STUFF

 That was so much hustling around yesterday, I guess I was tired. I was sweating a lot and shaking a bit as I wrestled with that thing to get two of the motors and the cables I could reach off. But yesterday I drank a lot less of those 50ml wine in 400-500ml other stuff with ice, drinks I've been making. 

At bed time though I had 700ml of wine. Maybe tonight I'll have 500ml and then the next night 350ml which is getting back to just having one of those Tetra Paks but I hope to be all tapered down before this 3l box I have now it used up. The expense of drinking wine daily is just one of the things I hate about it. 

I got the 15 things listed but today I think I'll put things away, do some re-arranging of things, and packing and shipping of course. 

This is the nice thing about this job. I'm pretty much on my own as long as I do my best to keep the numbers good. I keep reading on Reddit or seeing on YouTube videos (saw a great one by a guy named Ooba something in the UK where he totally pranked and spied on Amazon) where if you work the kind of work a homeless or at least nearly homeless and car-less person can get and it's really grim. 

Mostly it's physical work and I can't do the heavy physical work I did in my 20s any more. This comes down to skill. This is why I was thinking of setting up the loft as a sign-painting studio when we moved into this place. The idea being, if I could acquire good sign-painting skills, I could get going on my own. I'd go around to restaurants and do menus for them, car dealerships and do signs and things for them, do funny signs to sell on the sidewalk, etc. Ultimately I'd rent a place downtown preferably with a big window so people walking by could watch me do my lettering - being trained from childhood to be comfortable with people watching me do art, I'd not mind a bit. 

But it comes down to, Can this be done if I live in a pup tent? Any kind of art beyond the old sketchpad on knee and cheap markers caricatures / portraits seems to take a lot of STUFF. And a lot of traveling around and a lot of time and schedules have got to match those of the car dealership or restaurant etc. 

That's hard to do if one is living in a pup tent or more likely sleeping in a military surplus bivvy bag and using a storage unit as HQ. Whereas even in a rather small storage unit I could have 6 cornets/trumpets and a flugelhorn just because, my personal stuff, and given that the smallest ones are generally all rented out and I'd have one more towards being medium, a bike or two. 

And as I've experienced, competent playing can pay around $50 an hour if I choose the right hours. 

And I enjoy it. If I enjoyed sign-painting so much, I'd have done a million signs just for the shop here. Goodness knows we need them. It's taken me years to start to sound competent on the trumpet and yet I've put in the years. Add in teaching and I could do fine, with almost zero overhead. 

That's what's killing this business here. The landlord keeps raising the rent, and the drawback of an Ebay Store is it's really hard to "age" things. I looked it up and it's really hard, beyond my skills really, to sort our things by oldest because I'd like to discount the oldest things like hell and get those out of here. So we have all these things sitting here, costing us a nickel a month which has fooled Ken into thinking it's cheap to keep them but it's not. 

Songs don't get old. I don't have to pay a "carrying charge" on musical notes. I saw this difference back before the crash of '08, when I knew Aric Leavitt, the banjoist. I thought, here I am paying over a thousand a month for my apartment, paying for my (actually necessary) car, paying for stuff to resell, etc. If I didn't bring in $6000 a month I was in trouble. Meanwhile, what's a bad day for Aric? A broken string? 

I figured it was probably easier and certainly a lot less effortful and time-consuming for Aric to bring in $50 a day than for me to bring in $200 a day. I thought about that life, if I suddenly had Aric's skills. I'd rent a room (at the time $400-$500 was a reasonable budget) get around by bus or bike, and actually only work a couple of hours a day. I'd have $1000 a month to spend on everything else after paying $500 rent. Being a musician I'd have actual friends and a network of people I know. 

This is why it was such a relief when the crash of 2008, which actually happened for me in 2007, happened. I was even starting to prepare for it. I'd signed up for violin lessons and gotten my teacher, young enough to be my kid haha, into busking. Of course when the crash happened it happened fast and I had to clear out and there was no refund on the $800 I'd ponied up for a semester of lessons. Oh, well. Even the violin was a rental and had to go back. 

So this is why I'm extremely skeptical of taking up any occupation that requires a lot of STUFF. 

I just used one of the covid test kits I got yesterday and I'm a solid negative. 

I packed 6 things, one of them minutes after it sold, and rode up to the post office to drop them off, then over to 99 Ranch and got two tea eggs and some other things, including the Scott toilet paper I use which for some reason they have the best price on. What was annoying is, while I eating my tea eggs this black zombie came wandering along and stood in front of the notice board outside 99 Ranch, not all that far from my bike, and started coughing and hacking and spitting. It was awful. I hurried up to get out of there and luckily the zombie wandered off to disgust other people in the strip mall there, but I wanted outta there. And zombies wonder why no one likes them...

Then I rode over to Lowe's and got some N95 masks and paper towels. I had the greatest talk with the young guy working in Paint, who's just moved back up here from Southern California. So we knew a lot of places in common, and I started telling him about H Mart and other good things around here. So he was really charged up to go check them out and told me "Come back soon!". 

One of the things I'd bought at 99 Ranch was a bag of peanuts which at $1.99 a pound came to $2.49. I rode over to Tom's. He was there and I told him I'm covid-negative so no need to worry and gave him the peanuts, telling him the price. He's paying something like $6 for a similar bag at Sprouts. I told him Asian stores generally have raw peanuts because they're used in various things. 

We talked a bit, and he offered me chicken soup but I said I'd just eaten and rode back here.

President Biden keeps on slugging

 Finally a day when I don't regret turning on the radio. 

I drank probably 1/2 what I'd been, yesterday. Went to sleep on 500ml of wine instead of, well, 2X that, and woke up at 9 feeling better. I got a phone call from some yokel who sounded like he'd already had his moonshine for breakfast, saying he was calling from Publisher's Clearinghouse. Yeah, right. I hung up. 

President Biden is proposing changes to the Supreme Court that sound really great. The problems we've been having now are the same ones Germany had in 1932. What do you do when you have a system that depends on gentleman's agreements when you have a player who's not a gentleman? 

We're coming very close to the Federal government being run by our supreme court which is selected not elected, serve for life, and are given the power to make sweeping changes to things like this presidential immunity nonsense. 

And I wake up, turn the radio on, and now I'm hearing about these changes to make the supreme court the kind of institution you'd have in a democracy and not some Council Of Elders in the mafia. 

I practiced a bit last night and the free buzzing is helping out and is an exercise worth doing. At least I'm making progress which is more than I could say about the shakuhachi. 

Since I was up at 9, I was actually out the door before noon. 10 to noon is still before noon. I got rid of trash and got a salmon onigiri and some unsweetened green tea at Nijiya, then went back to get some S&B "seasoned pepper", each time taking out $40 cash. I really wanted to get some covid tests and the ones at Walmart in the $10-$20 range. 

I was headed to the post office with the packages I'd packed when I came upon a little stand with something about health covid something. The lady there didn't speak English but she encouraged me to take all the little boxed test kits I wanted. I took 7. She was also doing something with little plastic test tubes with clear pinkish liquid on them and people's names. 

Wow! Here I was expecting to spend in the $40-$60 range for some tests, and I've got some. I rode over to where the Circle-A skateboard place used to be and sat in the shade and opened a test. I'd test myself so I'd know what I'm after in Walmart. Well, it's pretty fiddly, and not something I wanted to do out there in the wind under the trees. 

I packed the things back into the little box and was struck that I still had my green cloth bag, full of small packages, to be taken to the post office. I'd been distracted by the lady giving out kits. As I rode back to the post office to drop them off, I thought, these kits aren't supposed to be in too much heat (you're not supposed to let them get too cold either) so maybe I'll just go right back to Nijiya and get some things there including some treats. 

I dropped off the packages, found some books, and as I rode past the Mexican market there were two booths with free testing. They also had stacks of the little kits to give out. I believe the liquid in the plastic test tube things was a system where someone spits in there or something, and it's tested at a lab and then they're called back or notified by mail or something. And the little boxed kits are plentiful and free for the asking because they *are* fiddly and the instructions are only in English. 

So once again, trying to do things the "white" way like going to CVS - where when I went in there was an old white boomer lady with the nastiest look on her face going in, and out, at the same time I was - is pure fail and going to things that are "outreach" sorts of things for non-English speakers are pure win. 

I went back to Nijiya and got a roast beef bento, some smokes salmon, a Coke Zero for later, some really nice salmon belly cuts that are cheap, and an Echigo "Lucky Cat" beer which is 5%. I got back here and ate the food and put tons of ice in a cup with the beer, watering it down to at least 3% if that. And I've been sipping on it for a couple of hours now and I still have some to go. 

The guys next door were throwing out this big hospital bed lift thing, and I went out to look at it. One of the guys, heavyset, came out with a Popsicle in his hand, dripping red juice. He said he'd broken his hips and needed the thing, paid $1000 for it, and do I want the controller? I said Sure and he went in and got it while I put together a bucket of tools. He handed me the bag with the controller in it, which was sticky all over. I get the impression this guy just trails sugary syrup, cookie crumbs, etc wherever he goes. He was getting rid of the thing because they needed more room for their trucks.

So I fought with the thing for a bit and besides the controller I now have two interesting motors. Then decided life's too short. The problem with withdrawing from alcohol is all the sweating. I cooled off and dried off a bit sitting by my fan, then went out and got a few more things off of it, and that's enough exercise in the heat for me. Now the scrappers can have it.

At least I practiced

 For someone who might be sick, I did a lot of running around yesterday. This makes me very disinclined to do anything more than I need to today. I can try to get covid test kits at Walmart tomorrow. 

I dug out things that had sold, that I need to ship, last night. And got 15 things all ready to list. 

At least I practiced for almost an hour. Free buzzing has been very helpful as I've never picked up the horn to practice after not practicing for so long and been able to play high notes so easily - or at all. 

I have to keep in mind that trumpet will be my job once I'm done working here. And I may not get to choose when I'm done here. Things could come to an abrupt end if something happens to Ken, or if the economy does another 2008 type crash. 

I photo'd 15 things, then packed 11 from small to very large, and took them to the post office and FedEx. There were three weird guys today. The first, outside FedEx, as I rode up, said something like "Heyyyyy buddy!" with a big smile and I was trying to think where we might know each other from, and failed. So I just ignored him and that was that. 

The second one was in the parking lot by Iconic Eyes, where I go to check the trash of the gym there for boxes and other useful things. I was riding along and this guy strides along and make a gesture - twice - like he was going to grab my bike handlebar and give it a yank. Ohh, OK, I thought. The third one was hanging out in the parking lot here in front of the end unit, a Mexican guy. He sees me coming up and says "Eh, Papi" and some other stuff I didn't catch. Sounded friendly, just kinda weird. He watched as I pulled up here, put the load and trailer and bike away, and went in. I'm all for friendly neighbors so I'll give him a wave or something if I see him again. 

I feel a bit better than yesterday, but if for no other reason, I feel crappy because I'm tapering off of the wine. It's just not worth it, the anxiety, the sweats, and the *expense*. The expense I can really live without. So I'm drinking a mixture of a little wine, a little diet 7-UP, a lot of water and some ice that's about 2% alcohol. 

This is yet another reason the idea I once had to retire in New Orleans and be a professional busker is a stupid one. There's an old song about the "Big Rock Candy Mountain" about a hobo's idea of heaven, with things like cigarette trees and the handouts (food) grow on bushes, and little trickles of alcohol run down the rocks and so on. Well, in New Orleans from what I've read, it's pretty easy to find enough discarded drinks to get 3 sheets to the wind each night, same probably goes for dropped cigarettes and "snipes". Plenty of food left out, discarded, given out, etc. And apparently drugs from "soft" to as hard as you please are quite available too. 

Of course according to "Panther Hawaii" who had a blog I used to read, one can live that way in Hawaii especially around Waikiki, too. And it may be in Tel Aviv as far as that goes. But it seems to be especially pronounced in New Orleans. The fun, friendly, murder capitol of the USA. 

Today's freebees BTW were 3 packages of ramen (good stuff I made a wonderful fish soup with tonight) that can be presumed to be kosher, an onion, and two bags of frozen lobster balls I dropped off at Tom's. The fish soup was the best fish soup I've made yet. 

Zest!

 I got up on Friday around noon, sorry to say. I had everything on hand to make "Crepes Suzette A'la Etrog" so I didn't have to go out for milk, etc. 

I re-watched "Chef Jeanne-Pierre's" video on making crepes Suzette, and washes the two etrogs well and cut them open - wow the rabbi was right, there's almost no pulp in there. The zesting tool works great though and in no time I had a nice bowl of long pieces of zest. 

I mixed up the batter and made a lot of crepes, folding them in quarters and putting then in the cake pan, in a nice scalloping pattern. I messed up the first one so I ate that, made enough to fill the pan, then the last one ended up too thick because I wasn't stirring the batter as I should have. I put that one out for the birds. 

Then I made the sauce using the zest, lemon juice, sugar, and plenty of the Ciroc lemonata and pour it over the crepes. In the little snippets of time I had, I cleaned up and changed into clean clothes and all that, then all I had to do was put the cake pan with cover on into a larger box onto the bike trailer and ride over to the temple. No need to bother with ice as these were right off the stove. The vibration made sure the sauce penetrated well. I tried a bit of the sauce - wow! 

When I got to the temple I signed in and put the crepes, a bottle of spray whipped cream, and the bottle of Ciroc into the fridge. 

We did our service and sang our cowboy songs and afterward was the potluck and discussion. The crepes were a hit. I brought the Ciroc because I still had lots of it and I'm sure not going to drink it - it's too intense. I ended up using - on the rabbi's advice - the little cups used for kiddush to pour shots of it for anyone who wanted one. 

What amazed me is, people ate the zest. I figured it would be there, but people would push it aside like the little sprig of parsley hardly anyone actually eats. I had a couple of crepes myself because I'd only eaten the one I'd messed up, and without sauce. It was tasty and I ate the zest too. 

The discussion was about the latest political developments which was another reason  I wanted to bring booze. They're all for Shapiro and I'm for Kelly, and mostly it was gushing about how well things have suddenly turned out. At one point the subject of zest came out and the rabbi went on about how great zest from all different types of citrus vegetables is. So the guy's got a real zest for zest. 

After I made sure everyone who wanted some Ciroc got some, I packed up the three crepes left in the pan, the whipped cream which I'm not sure anyone used, and the Ciroc and left. I gave the remaining crepes to my pal the cop, and the whipped cream. A lady leaving in her car stopped by to gush about how great the crepes are. Officer P- and I  talked about stuff for a good while then I rode home. 

I still have enough Ciroc to do another batch like this, sugar, flour, etc. Crepes are really cheap and simple to make. What's key is using enough butter. There were the usual salads, some cookies and things, and one lady brought in a baked chicken from Costco, went into the kitchen to pull it apart and put the meat on a serving plate, and that was her contribution. Everyone liked it too, although it's not keeping Kosher to mix meat and milk so no chicken for me. 

I came back here and did some cleanup and after an hour or three of just relaxing, I had my Shabbat dinner of roast beef and salmon with horseradish/mustard/Kewpie sauce, and cucumber slices and of course wine. 

Yesterday I watched a lot of Adam Curtis videos, because those are easy to relax and immerse yourself in. The guys next door started up with their pressure washer at 9 on the dot, and I needed something to drown that out. 

Ken had called me on Friday to tell me he has covid so I may not see him this week. He says there are free tests at CVS. I said it's funny because I'd been really sniffly for the past week and it's only just started to clear up. 

Because of this - not getting a check this week, probably - and because our Ebay sales are in the toilet, I don't think I'm going to spend the almost $50 to see Fiddler On The Roof. And I've just spent the money on that cornet. And mouthpiece which I've not even taken out of its little bag yet. And I have to see if I have a cornet or a CSO or "Cornet Shaped Object". 

A while back I talked about a comment made about Bix Beiderbecke in Berton's book gave me the idea for an exercise. Well, I've been doing the exercise since then, and all it was, was scrunching my mouth up to build up the muscles that are essentially in the lips. If Bix was in the habit of doing this, over time, it would result in the strangely small mouth mentioned by Berton. 

Since the feeling of that exercise feels exactly like what you have to do to play a clarinet or sax, I looked around for references to Bix playing one of those and there's nothing. (For instance, by searching one can find out that clarinet master Artie Shaw put in a good few years on the road playing a sax before moving to the "licorice stick".) 

But he might have done mouth exercises or ... oh yes, free buzzing! That's just buzzing your lips alone, no mouthpiece and needless to say no horn. Bix might have done that a lot, especially when he was an up and coming player and not playing with others that much yet, and it would not be considered odd or something to be remarked on. Berton describes Bix's athleticism and disregard for personal hygiene, but he's a cornetist, of course he'll free buzz from time to time, and may have not needed to by the time Berton met him, as he was playing for hours a day. But he may have used free buzzing a lot to rise so meteorically.

Free buzzing ticks off a lot of boxes. It strengthens the lips, uses a fair amount of air, and doing higher "notes" this way requires good air support. I had tried, years ago, buzzing on the mouthpiece alone while watching long movies, for serious amounts of time. It's almost the worst because you have the crutch of the mouthpiece, without the resonant structure of the horn, and without the muscle tension and support needed to free buzz. In short, it's poo. 

In the past I watched hornist Julie Landsman videos and she was huge on free buzzing. All her students could free buzz well.

It comes down to tone. Bix had a really good tone and this is said about all great musicians. 

I was up today early enough to get that "lunch crowd" at Whole Foods but I do feel kinda lousy and the responsible thing to do would be to go to a CVS as Ken advised me and get some free covid test kits. If  I have it, I think there's a medicine now, Paxlovid? 

I actually felt like shit and had to force myself to cook a couple eggs with peppers, get dressed, oil the damn bike chain, and get out of here in time to catch the pharmacy at the nearest CVS before they'd close at 5. I followed the Google Maps directions, get onto 10th then to Hedding and follow it until, well, you see the CVS. 

It's an interesting ride because I'd never gone that way on Heddings. There are interesting things like these huge oil tanks and a big Chevron facility. Before I knew it I'd gotten to what I'll call the Sprawl Mall and went into CVS. The pharmacist told me the free Covid tests need a doctor's prescription or some rot, and besides it didn't matter because they were completely out of Covid tests. 

I looked around and it's something like $20 for a little bottle of vitamin C - always traditionally about the cheapest vitamin you could get. At least CVS alcohol prices aren't bad and I got a box of wine. 

I rode back then turned onto Old Oakland figuring I'll go to H Mart where I've always seen some form of vitamin C. I went there and there was none. I got some eggs and greens and decided I'll ride over to Nijiya where I'd always seen some vitamin C preparation. I picked up some purple onions behind the gym and rode to Tom's because I figured he might have some C around and I could get some from him. 

Tom didn't, he appreciated the purple onions. OK then next stop Nijiya. I stopped here to drop my groceries off then rode over to Nijiya and got some sugar-free Lipovitan, but they didn't have any vitamin C. 

I then rode over to Smile Market because they have everything. It went in and they had loud Vietnamese TV on and were talking, in, well, Vietnamese. I asked about vitamin C and one of the ladies took me to a set of bins and opened one - there were packets of Emergen-C in various flavors. I picked out 7 orange ones which cost me $3.50 - probably no more expensive than buying the stuff by the box. 

I felt so good about that that I went by the little free library in Japantown and picked up some books including a full volume of Poe's writings and poetry (first edition 1938) and went back into Nijiya and got a big bottle of beer and one of their roast beef bentos which I've never known them to stock in past years and looked interesting. 

I rode back here and it was beer and bento time. 

The IRS wants to pay for my cornet

 On r/busking someone said something like, "You'd better not mention income because the IRS has eyes everywhere" and it reminded me that I'd just gotten a letter from the IRS. I need to fill out out a form to find out if I'm eligible for an up to $600 refund. If I'm eligible and I get half of that, that's the cornet. 

Or cornet-shaped object. I put it, in its box with the teeny screw bouncing around in the accessory compartment, up in the loft and the new Bach mouthpiece is here in its box, still sealed in the little bag, on my desk. 

I want to get a block of time I can work on the cornet, cleaning it and putting some new corks in the water keys. The horn's got some miles on it. In fact leaky water keys could go a lot towards making it seem like the valves don't have good compression. 

But the $300 I spent on it kind of got my urge to have a cornet again out of my system. Maybe I should keep a little list on an index card keeping track of how much I earn busking with it so I can see how long it takes to pay for it by playing it. 

The two $700 alternatives, the Yamaha at Starving Musician and the Schagerl "Academika" would be just plain ol' student level cornets, although either one would be short enough to stuff into a bike bag (the Connstellation isn't, sad to say) and the Schagerl is a beautiful little thing. 

It's just that after reading up on the Connstellation cornet it seems like it's an outlier having a very large bore. And there's another reason. Years and years ago when I lived in Newport Beach, I'd bought, from a music store in the city of Orange, a Connstellation trumpet. I joked about it, calling it a Connstipation, but that's only because I sounded like shit back then. I should never have given it up. In fact I should become much more of a "hoarder" with respect to musical instruments. I'd not mind a bit still having the King Master cornet I had, which was indeed short enough to stuff into a bike bag, and which I got onto the stage with, for a brief bit, at Cafe Stritch. 

I had a pretty good collection of mouthpieces too. The most interesting was, when I read that Chet Baker played a Bach 6A, I was not able to get one but got a 5A which you can still get and it gave me a "Chet Baker" sound. I had a 3D, which was too shallow for me really, and I didn't like the sound. But I also had a Yamaha Bobby Shew Jazz, and that's a good one. It's just a little more shallow than a 3C. A Bobby Shew Lead I have no interest in because it's going to be on the other side of a 3D which I'd already found I don't like. 

Ebay sales are awful right now and Tom and I think it's because everyone's attention is on the "Kamala and Donnie show". Ken's on the hook for a couple more years on the lease anyway and he can keep going on, but I'm not going to consider things to be guaranteed past that and that's assuming Ken will keep soldiering on health-wise. And that I will. 

I assume I may have to spend a final year here in San Jose, renting a room or a small office in a building in Japantown and sleeping in there on the sly which is allowed in that building as long as you're neat. Maybe Stylish Black Guy who told me about it is still in there. This is why I take part in as much as I can in the temple, though. It's my long-term survival plan. It could be someone will have an attic or garage my Social Security will pay for, while I go through the "it's not a sprint, its a marathon" conversion and application for moving to Israel process.

Now, with less snot

 I've had a snotty nose for at least a week, maybe a bit longer. Now, surprisingly, I woke up at the crack of noon and my nose wasn't stuffed with it. Covid's going around, and I wonder if I had it? Headache-y too. And I've been strictly staying away from chocolate. I've got a little, productive, cough just clearing stuff out. Maybe I should have masked up at the last service because I was sniffling. 

I had three things packed and packed one more, and left here at about 3. I rode over to Hedding and from there to Park Avenue and a block up, to Park Avenue Music. They didn't have the Blessing 3C mouthpiece for cornet, nor the Yamaha or Schilke equivalents, but by golly they sure had the Bach one, which cost me $71. I'd told myself that if all they had was the Bach I'd buy it, as I had a budget of the $85 the guy had let me save on buying the cornet. 

I looked around in the little record store a few doors down and bought a book, for $5, of Greil Marcus writings on "Weird Old America" as reflected in Bob Dylan music. 

Then I rode over to the chef store and bought a zesting tool which is essential to my evil plans. 

Now I was about out of money. Better go to the bank, I thought, but better go to the post office first. So I took Park Avenue back downtown and to the post office and dropped the packages off. Then to the bank to deposit my pay check, and I asked about my ID card. The guy was sure he'd handed it back, and I got my wallet out and went through my cards - I'd put it in with other cards instead of its own little slot, so I'd had it all along. 

I went over to Whole Foods for pizza, some chicken and broccoli and a Trumer Pils. Burrrrrp! 

Then I rode over to Walmart, parked my bike by Big-5 and went into Big-5 and got a 3-pack of extensible marshmallow forks so it works out to $2.50 apiece, that I think I can make into hooking things to fish things out of dumpsters. Like the easy $50 worth of coffee I'd passed up the other day. 

Then on to Wal it up. I managed to spend about $85 but I got some good stuff, including discovering their deli meat cut-to-order dept. There was a tall kid with a big afro which he had in a net, making him look like a mushroom. Fun, fun. I've fallen into a habit of being as nice and delightful as I can to workers, because I figure they meet enough surly people, they ought to have a nice one once in a while. He responded to my cheerfulness with cheerfulness. The upshot was, the roast beef there is 1/2 the price at Sprouts, and it might be pretty good. 

Among other things I got a couple boxes of my "vin ordinaire" - the $16 a box stuff because they were out of the $12 a box stuff, and a bottle of Josh Cellars for Shabbat.

I headed for home, found 5 books, and stopped in at Nijiya for some eggs and $40 cash back because again I was out of money. I'm allowed to take out another $40 but really I should make it busking. 

I relaxed a bit here and drank a big beer I'd bought at Nijiya, then decided I'd better get going to Sprouts as they close at 10 and it was now nine. So  I saddled up and off I went, and at the Old Oakland Road intersection, there was Tom's truck. We waved to each other and I ended up following him into the parking lot. He parked by FedEx and said he ran out of teriyaku sauce, which I agreed is a true emergency. I said I'm parking here but walking over to Sprouts, which I did. I spent about $30 on milk, cream, butter, and some sunscreen. 

On the way back I stopped at Tom's and knocked on his door and asked him if his teriyaki sauce dreams were fulfilled. He held up a big bottle of it and said they were. We talked a bit and he asked if I was hungry. I said Kinda, and we sat down and ate delicious beef with veggies he'd made, and rice. We talked about things from the election to cooking, and it was really nice and enjoyable. 

Tom's wife is up in the north bay with her son, and it doesn't sound like things are looking good right now. Cancer is scary anyway.  The callow youth of 17 I met a dozen years ago is now a 29 year old man, and one with a serious medical fight on his hands. 

Tom seems a bit more, well, sober now that he seems to have quit drinking. It's because he's not supposed to mix alcohol with the blood pressure medicine he's taking now, he says. 

My new cornet looks like this, but sadly nowhere near this good.

I'll vote Likud

 Netanyahu's in town and the short snippets of what he said that were played on NPR - wow I like the guy even more. It dismays me that Netanyahu buddies up to Donnie Diapers because Donnie's a fucking idiot, but Netti's very smart and I'm sure it's all a ploy - his job is to buddy up to whoever is in charge in the US and the chaos another Dumpo term would cause isn't Israel's responsibility. 

As for "Gaza" I think Israel should level the place. Make it so unbearable to live in that the Arabs put their money where their mouths are and leave. The same goes for Judea and Samaria. In short, I think Meir Kahane was right. If a non-Japanese goes to Japan and acts up, they will be punished severely enough that they'll wish they were never born. This is the spirit Israel needs for its survival. 

When I move to Israel to retire, I'll vote Likud. 

I listed 25 things yesterday then took apart more stuff and came up with another 25 things for today. So I'll have my 50 things for the week and that's not counting the 10 I listed on Monday because those "belong" to last week. 

So I got my 25 things photo'd and was ahead of things so .... of course I went out and bought a cornet. I'd been emailing this guy on Craig's List about his Connstellation cornet with no replies, so I'd decided last night that I'd call him. So I called and got an answering machine, then he called me back. I said I'd have to ride my bike downtown then take the train. I wanted to meet up at Bean Scene "More tech companies have been started there than any other coffee shop!" but he was for some strange reason very shy about my playing it in front of the coffee shop so we agreed to meet at the train station. 

I rode downtown to my bank and took out $400 because the guy wanted $385. They were surprised to see me a day earlier than usual. And I left my ID card there so I'll have to get it back tomorrow. 

The trains were a bit wonky but I didn't have to wait long, and called him when the train passed Lawrence station. I got there ahead  of him and he showed up in a few minutes. 

He got it out, and checked all the slides, and a little screw fell off. I'd spotted it, luckily, it's pretty tiny, then he looked all over the horn to find out where it had come from - it came off the thumb trigger for the first valve. He was impressed that I'd seen it and found it because it's the kind of tiny thing that would be GONE normally. 

Then I tested it with his 5C mouthpiece, some scales then a bit of Danny Boy and some My Funny Valentine. Maybe it's the acoustics of where I was, where there's a sort of arching roof-ish thing overhead, but I got a big sound. He was very impressed with that. I'm not sure I was all that impressed with the horn. At least all the slides were not about to freeze up. He said I got a better sound out of it than he ever did. 

The story is the horn was his father's who "played in big bands and in Vegas and everything". It's obviously got some miles on it. I asked him if he'd take $200 and that was a hard no. I asked if he'd take $300 and we talked a bit more and he said OK. 

Losing and finding the screw is happenstance but I think if I'd tried plying it and sounded like shit he'd not have come down on the price. 

Now I got the bright idea to walk down to El Camino Real and take a 22 bus to West Valley Music because the deal did not include a mouthpiece and his was a 5C anyway. So I did the bus thing down there and they had maybe two cornet mouthpieces, both of them 7C's. So then I had to bus it back to Whole Foods and it was a 22 not a 522 (but funnily enough, we left a 522 in our dust) so it was a good long ride. At least there was air conditioning. 

I had a Trumer Pils for my ills and some chicken and talked about buses a bit with the guy who was there with his family at the next table. I asked where he was from (tall, accent, distinguished sort of nose, I figured Swiss) and he was from Bosnia. "But I'm local now", he said. 

I loaded the cornet in its somewhat decrepit old case into two nested Whole Foods back and it hung off the handle bar just fine. I found a book on the way back here, and got right to work on ... 

Listing those 25 things! And I did it with enough time to spare to clean the bathroom, pick up a few pieces of junk on the office floor, and as it got a bit past Ken's usual time, start packing a few things. Whereupon Ken showed up. 

He had a burger and fries for me, and I served up his usual 500ml bottle of diet Sprite and a big cup with lots of ice. 

Then we talked about things, and it turns out he needed an 8uF motor capacitor. He needs a fan motor too but the larger ones we had sold out. I said "Let me look in back" and I found ... a 7.5uF motor capacitor that I'd measured at 7.75uF. Perfect. I found its Ebay number and de-listed it and now Ken has his needed motor capacitor. 

I figure for tomorrow I'll get an early enough start to visit the post office with my packages and the bank, and then go over to Park Avenue Music to try to find a mouthpiece. I have a little cheat card made up with the Bach, Yamaha and Schilke model numbers. If they don't have one, I could ride over to Starving Musician where they have tons of mouthpieces and probably find something. 

If I go to Starving Musician I can look at the Yamaha cornet they have, which is probably in awful shape, immobile slides, etc. But maybe not. It would cost me over 2X what I just paid for the Conn. 

I got the Conn because a Connstellation is a pro level horn when it's in good shape. Interestingly, it has a huge bore, much larger than the Connstellation trumpet. That intrigues me. The "Wayne Bergeron" trumpet I had also has a larger than usual bore and some say it's tiring to play, but I liked it. I should have never that that one go. It had *one* spot of red rust, and on a part that I could buy a replacement of. 

Waving a white flag

 Yesterday I listed 10 things, shipped 10 things, spent $4 of my change for some sesame seeds at H Mart where they're cheap (1 oz. of them with my coffee makes a nice breakfast) picked up shipping stuff and discovered five 1-lb bags of really nice coffee, Philz and other "elite" brands, in the dumpster behind the gym. I'd have had to climb into the dumpster, about as easy as a dumpster can be and fairly clean, to get them though. And I had no use for them, I'd give them to Tom. I passed them up, and stopped by Tom's on my way home. 

Tom was taking measurements of his place as he needs to get a permit for ... the building to keep existing I think. He has to get it approved or if he can't get it approved, has to do retrofits to make it legal. This is the kind of crap Tom's brought down on himself by hosting bums who make big messes. 

Tom kind of had his nose buried in papers so wasn't able to talk much, and I talked with James a bit. James knew all the ways bad guys can get into a hotel room, and it was pretty scary stuff. I told him I've stayed in ghetto hotels and super nice hotels in Barcelona and Hiroshima and Munich, and tons of places in between and the only time I think someone had tried to get into my room was at that one by Santa Clara University. 

I commented humorously on the piles of pallets and pallet pieces (in between sneezing, "It's the sawdust" said James) and James said they were his mess, not Tom's. James was "taking them apart and turning them into the right size". There's some money in pallets but they have to be a certain size for companies that buy pallets to buy them. 

Then ensued a conversation about how this "iodine stuff" Tom has, he'd used and it had stained his feet. It turns out it was the Dettol I'd given Tom. I told James he's got to wash his feet every day and change his socks at least once a day preferably twice. I don't think James washes anything - self, clothes, anything. "Take care of your feet!" I called as I rode off. 

I  took a big thing apart last night, with some sub-assemblies to be worried apart tonight, but it got me 25 things to list today. 

After that I even practiced a bit because I really need to. I've gotten to where I can have a really nice tone, but lack of practice means lack of endurance and range. My "Song Method" is working out well, that and what I'll call Adam Rapa exercises which is simply holding a note and doing 1/2 step bends downward and back without using the 2nd valve, just mouth alone. While I'll never buy one of his expensive mouthpieces, I think the world of the guy. He came up through marching band and color guard and such things, and shares all he knows. He's making a pretty penny too, on those mouthpieces. Like in many things, people are willing to pay top dollar for a piece of equipment when it really comes down to the athlete, not so much their gear. 

The heat is awful and Ebay is awful right now and thus I absolutely must practice and get out busking at least once a week. And keep saving my money. I read r/homeless every day on Reddit and I'm always struck by how hard people's lives are when they have no talents, no skills, no direction. The ones who became homeless and then developed a career for themselves playing music or painting signs or detailing cars or being a shade-tree barber don't post on r/homeless because they're out making a living not moping on Reddit. One guy, however, posted today about his uncle, an ex-welder, who totaled his RV in New Mexico and is now stuck there. He said he, himself, when he was homeless, played music and drew portraits and made friends. His uncle did/does none of these things. 

I mean, I get it. In a hyper-individualistic society it's hard to make friends. You have to do things. You have to get into a hobby or a sport or a trade that has a strong social network like being an IBEW electrician. You've got to join a church or the Elks or something. If I were to move back to Hawaii, I'd planned that I'd join the musicians' union there because the "local "there has its own building and they do a lot of things together. I'd show up for building-maintenance days and potlucks. 

I guess the best way to describe this is to look at how homeless people, the losers in this game whether their fault or not, do things. Almost 20 years ago, I used to go to University Avenue in Palo Alto to hang out, get something to eat, buy books in the big book store that was there, etc. These "zero point energy" guys I knew would hang out down there too. So I got familiar with the regular homeless people who'd panhandle there. Originally I thought they were a big network, like I'd experienced among swap meet sellers or small business owners. Nope! They all hated each other. 

And I've seen nothing but this since. Homeless people constantly fight, backstab, steal from each other, etc. They're the hyper-individualistic right end of the bell curve of our already hyper-individualistic society. Hobbesian non-society. I note that the homeless live about 35 years less than the housed, and that's really something in a country where life expectancy is dropping year by year overall. 

Politics continues to be too interesting, but at least it's a bit more fun these days. Diaper Don's wearing this silly big square white bandage on his ear. Even if the doctors wanted to put in some stitches, there are all kinds of neat adhesives enabling the placement of a small, discreet, bandage. It could be flesh-colored (orange in this case) and it's generally preferred that a small cut or wound have access to open air anyway. In other words, it's histrionics as usual. 

I got 25 things photo'd and then realized I'd better take care of the shipping so I packed all the things, had some time before 6 so I listed 5 things, then took off. I just had to go to the post office so I'd come up with a plan - to visit Costco, look around and some prices, buy some lemon liquor. 

The place was just how I remembered it - a madhouse. Plus even less friendly. I had to have an escort, one of the workers who went with me while I looked up and down the booze aisles, muttering. I found Ciroc lemon liqour which cost me just over $20 in the end. No box wine, which is puzzling because you'd think a place like Costco would have it. So I just got my bottle of lemony booze, accompanied by my minder through the checkout and out to the door. I was not allows to look at the prices in the meat section to see if I might want to get a membership again. Their loss. 

I had zero trash bags at home. So my next stop was H Mart to get dishwashing liquid which I needed, and a pack of miso ramen and some fresh mackerel. And a bag. I had visions of a big bowl of fish soup. I picked up a few "hands" of bananas around back, and because they were heavy went right over to Tom's. 

"Banana delivery" I said when he opened the door. "Smoothies" said he. And then, "Hey, you want some chicken?" I started to go on about how I've got stuff all planned to cook tonight (thinking it was some homemade chicken or something) but it turned out to be from Krispy Krunchy where last night Tom had ordered an 8 piece and the gal had stuffed the box with 12. 

So we ate chicken and talked about things. Nothing like cold chicken on a hot day. I had two big pieces. Tom collected the bones to give to James' dog, who, "Because he's a bird dog he can handle bird bones" which is about as sensible as anything James says. Eh, the dog hasn't died yet. I said I can't let this fish get any warmer, and rode off. 

I got back here and "Salt Unlimited", a company that deals in, well, salt actually, appears to have pulled up stakes. I got some envelopes and a bunch of random keys and odds and ends to put onto Ebay or donate or use around here. I got back in here and tried a little of the Ciroc. It's lemony and sugary and makes a nice burn so I think it will be perfect for what I have in mind. 

 

One drop

 Well, the world is getting used to Harris running and this certainly flips the table. The biggest thing is that now, El Dumpo is the doddering oldster. And Harris has served as vice president quietly, was a district attorney before that, it's all been pretty quiet and calm and normal. 

So now the Right is picking on her race. Race is all-important in the US and since apparently she has a tiny bit of African in her makeup, now she's black. Because in the US we follow the "one drop" rule. But then we elected a guy who was half black and as far as Americans were concerned was 100% black, and then re-elected him. I just saw him as a rather nice guy who went to high school with my older sister. 

I hope most of us just want someone who's normal and won't end the "American Experiment" - that experiment being to choose leaders not by warfare and assassinations but by the vote. This was a pretty new idea in the 1700s. It's still too radical an idea for some. 

I went out yesterday, late in the day, and did a Walmart run. I found a few books on the way back including Kerouac's first book that wasn't published for a long time, about his time in the Merchant Marine. There were lots of zombies out, due to the warm weather, but I'm good at zombie-dodging. I suss them out a block ahead. 

I got back in here, cooked dinner, finished a load of laundry and hung it up and started another load. I'm thinking I might follow a system of, on Sunday, doing the same. Finish the load that's been soaking and hang it up, and start a new load. This would mean getting a load washed each week and not getting behind. 

What I didn't do was busk or practice. I've not been practicing and I didn't feel very enthusiastic about busking if I've not been practicing. Plus I'd have only caught the lunch crowd if I'd jumped right out of bed, had the trumpet all packed up and the tip box in the bike bag, myself all washed and shaved and all cleaned up and ready to go. 

Instead I felt very un-motivated, and only did the Walmart run so I'd not have to during the week, so I could pay more attention to my listing and shipping and work in general. 

And it's now in: A guy named Mark Kelley who's been, amazingly, a fighter pilot, an astronaut, and the husband of Gabby Giffords who was shot and survived some years ago, will probably be Harris' running mate. Putting an astronaut in the White House is a good angle. It's not that astronauts are that much smarter than those in many other trades, but people look up (haha!) to them.

It was good to know you, Joe

 Joe Biden has stepped down. I already miss him. He was *normal*. Just a good guy who wanted - and honestly tried - to do the right thing in all circumstances. He was normal, his cabinet was normal, he tried to have the smartest, most normal people around him. I'm still glad I sent $120 to the Dems over the last couple of weeks and I'll vote for whoever they put up (Kamala Harris as of this post) because I like my politics boring and predictable. 

Hawaii is a brutal place full of brutal people and in my 20s I've had eaten that MAGA crap up because I actually believed a coherent society could be made up of white people. The shit I got - and would get if I moved back - for being white in Hawaii radicalized me and it took me far too long to realize that whites, being hyper-individualistic and short-sighted as they are, are no group to throw myself in with. Iks who have air conditioning and cars, I call them as a shorthand way to describe white culture. 

But Hawaii is very tribal, and as lousy as whites are, they were the only group that helped me even a little bit, as they were my tribe. I voted by tribe and I did all things by tribe. So I voted for Reagan and fell for a lot of white-tribe politics. At least I eventually grew up. 

I've said out loud to Ken that I don't like Kamala Harris but the truth is, I don't know a lot about her. I'll say one thing: She's been very quiet. That's amazing in this age of politicians constantly going in and out of prison, being found to have committed heinous crimes, or merely parroting Nazi talking points. The only think I've heard about Kamala is some on the Left calling her "Copmala" because of her having been a cop, or siding with cops, or something like that. The modern Left has shit the bed and if they don't like her, maybe I do. 

I got an email from Pat's neighbor, Pat. Things are OK with Pat and his wife/live-in girlfriend, so I'm not sure what's going on. The neighbor said he's not free to say anything but that, that things are OK. So Pat's not dead or anything. He lives in a self-created cage of drama, and I get the impression the wife/GF is at least as bad. Complains about lack of money but then it starts a minor war if Pat tries to get her to think about doing some work to earn some. 

As long as I was moving back to Hawaii, being in contact with anyone in my old network was a good idea. Pat was an old friend from a forgotten time when people did things together. Maybe Pat's wife/GF doesn't like him associating, even emailing, with anyone else which is why the neighbor said he almost never talks to him. I'll just have to leave him to solve his own problems and wish him well. 

 

Saturday night

 Well, Friday went well. I took things to the post office, had a slice of pizza and a beer at Whole Foods, and got over to the temple at just the right time. People were confused because the aim is to hold the service outdoors, but it keeps being too hot so we move indoors. We sang our cowboy songs and all that, and we sang the jazzy L'Cha Dodi which is my favorite one. 

The old doctor who's so cool didn't come this time; someone said he's only an occasional visitor. If I had a car I'd be willing to take him but of course I don't. He just takes Uber. But hell, he's a retired doctor, it's not like he doesn't have the money. In any case I now know the Hebrew words for right and left but he wasn't there for me to show him. 

I did one other important (to me) thing though. I got not only one, but two, etrogs from the etrog tree. The rabbi himself picked them using this harvesting tool, and we had great fun (he was looking for too-old ones to get rid of). He said they'll be disappointing when I cut them open, but I think with two of them I'll be fine for what I want to do. 

What I want to do: Make Crepes Suzette but with etrog instead of orange.  This will take my buying some milk, a can of whipped cream, and either some lemon-themed liquor or at least a little vodka.

I hung out with the cop a bit and we talked about books and things. I really need to find out the guy's name as "the cop" is kind of impersonal. 

I rode over to Whole Foods for some shopping and then home. I had my beef kebabs I'd cooked ahead of time and put in the fridge, and it was tasty. As good as roast beef I don't know, but roast beef is 2X as expensive when you can get it in this town. And I had wine, plenty of wine. 

I woke up this morning thanks to my neighbors and their wonderful pressure washer.  I haven't heard back from Pat2 about the condition of Pat1.

More worried about big island friend

 Well, I've not heard from Pat, and I even emailed Dave in Honolulu and he's not heard from Pat for a while either. So I just told Pat2 that it's time to walk over and check. 

That's not much I can or will do other than nudge like this from afar. I've not gone to a funeral yet and am not about to start although these days I could afford it. Pat would rather see me buy myself a really nice trumpet. 

I had the weirdest dream last night. I'd acquired somehow a cornet that was antique and weird in a cool way and had a cover that snapped on over the mouthpiece. Kinda cool. Coolest thing about it is that I could play tons of stuff without using the valve buttons at all. Because it was a dream and in dreams things work weirdly. 

Honestly, I'd been searching a lot on cornets before bed. Starving Musician has one, a Yamaha student model that checks all the boxes in that it's the short, shepherd's crook, design and has convention spit valves (I hate the Amado ones). However that model is at least 20 years old, and I'd want to go check it out without any high hopes. They also want $650 for it. With local tax, that would cost me the same as the Schagerl "academica" one Austin Custom Brass sells, new. 

And the Schagerl is *pretty* haha.  A coppery, Christmas-y horn. It'd pay for itself in the month of December.

And ... there's some kind of global IT outage going on as I type. Because of course. The radio's full of delusions, the Democrats are still calling for Biden to step down when they don't have any good replacement waiting in the wings, people are assuming they can bargain with Hamas as if it's a nation-state rather than a loosely organized terrorist organization, and there are people actually saying they can get Donnie Diapers to talk about climate change. I mean, if Putin tells him to bring it up, sure. But it's central to the Right to deny that global warming is a thing.

Worried about Big Island friend

 Yesterday I listed 20 things, packed a bunch to just go to FedEx because I could not find one and going to FedEx only meant I could leave at 7 instead of 6, giving me another hour to hunt for the thing. I did finally find it which was good because it was a $100 item. 

I got back in here and relaxed a bit, made a mayonnaise-kipper-mustard dip sort of stuff and had that on a couple of matzohs and that was dinner. 

Ken had called around the middle of the day asking me if I remembered the entry code for the storage place and I said it's just the unit number plus 4 numbers we both know. He said he's trying to pay for one unit online that they're saying is behind. I said he might have to go by in person before he goes to work and deal with it in person. He agreed he might have to. 

This had me thinking, though. I had all the pieces I needed together in a sort of kit in a box on top of my fridge. I just had to go upstairs and get a piece of cord and I had everything. I got my drill and bits too. I made this key organizer I'd designed in my head months ago and it took me less than an hour because it was really only drilling 8 holes, screwing in 2 screw eyes and 6 screw hooks, and putting the neat (and expensive) little tags on the keys. Then vacuuming the office, picking up the sawdust along with the rest of the stuff that builds up over a week, and cleaning the bathroom.

So when Ken came over right on schedule I was able to point it out and he was impressed. It's just holding the three keys for the three storage units, but I'm sure Ken might want to keep other keys on there. I told Ken how it was easy to put together because I'd planned it out months ago and bought the key tags and stuff. He said he knows how it is, that he's got unfinished projects all over the place at his house. 

(I do, indeed, have another project in a box on top of my fridge. It's a self-defense whip to be made out of a piece of coated steel braided cable. They're supposed to be very effective and can be carried in one's belt loops. It was going to have it made and on me, in the Red White & Blue parade in case anyone tried messing with our people. But I didn't go, I realized we've got some pretty physically capable guys who would be there, and I didn't hear about anything happening. Whew!) 

Ken had brought one of those lousy convenience store sandwiches and a bag of chips and I fixed him up a Diet Sprite because he "didn't feel like a burger" so I'm glad I'd gone ahead and eaten. Ken sure doesn't owe me a burger and fries when he comes over, all he owes me is a pay check which I got. Good thing I reminded him he's writing a double one because he'd forgotten about last week. 

Then we talked about stuff, and at least didn't get into politics. After he took off I watched a documentary about a small restaurant run by a big, loud, cussy, genius-cook guy who wrote a book called "Eat Me" that somehow shows up on my YouTube suggestions. At the same time I took apart a lot of old gunky radio/phonograph stuff for interesting parts and put the junk I didn't want in a box and put it outside next to the door. It was nice to see the stuff gone when I checked today. 

My Big Island friend, Pat, has an art studio run by another guy named Pat, next door. So I'd found the web site for the studio yesterday and sent this other Pat a message through their contact form, expressing my links to the first Pat and my concerns. So today I got an email back form 2nd Pat, giving me Pat1's phone number which I called, just getting a sophisticated answering machine. I recorded a message, confirmed it, and then marked it as urgent. I said to Pat2 that if I don't hear back by tomorrow we can go to Plan B which is Pat2 walking over to check on Pat1. 

Pat2 hardly talks to Pat1, not because of being unfriendly, he just doesn't. Busy with his gallery stuff I'm sure, plus it's pretty hard to grill burgers and socialize over beers with a guy who eschews both. I told Pat2 that he's a real friend. 

There's not a lot I can do if something's happened to Pat. Sure I could fly over there but then to do what? His wife/live-in girlfriend will be right by his side,  I think. Pat2 replied and said that's a good idea. 

I left here at 3 with a load of books, some trash, and bag of packages for the post office. Dropped off the trash and packages, and went over to my bank - I got there just as their afternoon break was starting so I read one of the books for 15 minutes then went in and deposited my check.  Their number and my number only differ by a nickel so that's close enough. 

I went to the Recycle Book Store and turned the books in, and looked around. The book about a Holocaust survivor who moved to Israel and fought for Israel after the war and eventually ended up in the US was still there so I got that, and a copy of "War With The Robots" by Harry Harrison which I'd read as a teenager. It took some sleuthing online to find out the author of a paperback book with a robot with weird 3-fingered hands on the cover. And I have $3-something in trade credit left. 

I rode over to Whole Foods and had pizza and beer, then rode to Walmart and got things. Then back from there, and decided it would be neat to stop in at Nijiya, get some kind of snack and a large light beer, and hang out on the steps of the old hospital and read a chapter or two in the Robots book. So that's what I did. Seaweed arare, which I loved as a kid, the same book I read as a kid, the only thing different was the beer. 

I picked up a bunch of books (some kind of Anne Of Green Gables series plus a few others) and got back here. I'd left the radio on and there was the whining, wheedling voice of Dirty Diaper Don going for a new lies-per-minute record. Everything he said was 180 degrees opposite of reality. What's scary is, I was kind of an idiot in my 20s and probably would be as determined to vote Republican as I am to vote Democrat now. Listening to that fat sack of shit reminded me, though, and I donated another $60 to the Biden campaign, as the $60 I'd set aside in a jar had not been touched. I'd taken $140 out at the bank, so that's my $200 "allowance" for this week. Plus whatever I bring in busking on Sunday. 

Walmart Wine

 I've got to say, Walmart's Oak Leaf wine is pretty good. And it's about $8 cheaper per box than Black Box. That Chilean stuff was a disaster and I left the box out, with about a liter in it, for the bums. Eventually a bum of the type that considers having tires on a bike effete and snobbish, picked it up and went into the alley (between the two buildings here, that's a nest of bums in there) I bet he, or they, had quite the headache in the morning. 

The name of the Walmart wine turned me off at first as Oak Leaf is close to a brand called Turning Leaf that was advertised heavily about 20 years ago. They should have named it Turning Stomach I concluded at the time. 

The stream of bad news is nearly continuous. We've got 4 months to go until the election, and even then the "fun" may only be starting. Between Donnie's little fake-assassination stunt and his choosing as VP a guy who hated him and is a blatant opportunist, is not going over well with everyone. 

Good discussion  https://www.reddit.com/r/homeless/comments/1e5fb8e/what_kind_of_jobs_are_good_for_homeless_people/ on r/homeless about what kind of jobs you can actually do when you're smelly, tired, sunburned, etc. Some of the ideas are good, and the best, I feel, are the ones about being an artist or an entertainer. Not only are the best occupations the ones that were good occupations 100s or 1000s of years ago, but it's also good to choose one that's not dependent on having a strong back as that's often off the table once you turn 40. 

Once you factor in wacky shelter or day center hours, and how much "stuff" you need to ply your trade, music comes out well as long as you're playing an instrument that predates the use of electricity, or of art, the simplest types of art like sketches/portraits/caricatures with easy to obtain materials like china markers. You have to ask yourself, Can you do this while living in a pup tent? 

Even playing guitar can be a challenge. Acoustic guitars don't deal well with weather extremes, electric guitars have finicky necks and need amplification, and they all eat strings. Plus there are a ton of  merely OK guitarists out there. So to make a living with a guitar you need to be really good, or a good singer with OK guitar skills. 

The trumpet, or the cornet rather, was a very popular instrument about 150 years ago. The saxophone hadn't caught on yet, the clarinet was too fussy, and here was a simple, durable, instrument that you could play a lot on and it would be played loud enough to be heard all across the town square. So in old books you see references to playing the cornet for fun such as in one of the Little House On The Prairie books a guy who's kind of "wild" and had served in the Civil War took out his "bugle" and played all sorts of popular songs. Or something  I read, Twain maybe? About being on a train and a guy pulls out a cornet with the same effect as a guy pulling out a guitar these days. Music and jollity. 

So I think I made a good choice, or I'm lucky that it chose me. How could Mr. Peyton in Band have known this? To declare "You're gonna play trumpet" and for it to be true something like 50 years later? 

Although its a constant stream of bad news on the radio, good old NPR has to lighten things up a bit so they ran a heartwarming piece about a "Palestnian" Lutheran, who's preaching in English and Arabic. I'm sure he's eager to share the good philosophy of Martin Luther, who was a foaming-at-the-mouth anti-Semite. The guy probably has copies of Luther's "On The Jews And Their Lies" for his followers. 

Maybe it's just the ketchup talking

 The best single discussion of racism in Hawaii I've seen and I've read 'em all: 

https://www.reddit.com/r/Hawaii/comments/1e4qpio/how_bad_is_racism_in_schools/

The one guy saying he saw no racism in Kaiser High School is correct - I went there and there's none. Haoles being maybe 20-25% of the student  body meant there were enough of us to stand up for ourselves plus most of the rest of the students Asian and knew studying was better than fighting. Same situation in McKinley, of the public schools. Those are the two good ones. As for the rest they range from bad to really bad. And this continues on into adult life which is why I think it's such an important discussion to link here. This is what I'm avoiding by not going back. The mainland has spoiled me... 

Will I run into racism in Israel? I'm sure my Hebrew, at best, will be surprisingly good for an immigrant but still rather horrible and with an accent. Discrimination will be based more on things like that, my being Reform, things like that. I have a feeling I'll be mistaken for a local a lot. I'm pretty brown for an Anglo. 

Today the internet and radio bring some humor. There's the conspiracy theory afoot that Trump's near-assassination was faked, for a variety of reasons. The variant I like is that Trump staged it to try to gain more support, kind of like when Teddy Roosevelt got more support after he was nearly assassinated. The difference being that Teddy was a wonderful person who was loved for his good work for the American people, and in the end the Bull Moose party didn't win anyway. 

I'm going to push this fun theory though. I want to see protesters bringing those little ketchup packets to throw at protests, the way baseball fans used to throw hypodermic syringes (sans needles) onto the field with Barry "U.S." Bonds played, because it was believed he was on steroids. Ketchup packets are messy and fun and not harmful, and it will boost ketchup sales a bit. 

In other news, the plaques commemorating my maternal grandparents will go up any week now, which is great. What's not so great is I'm not hearing from my Big Island friend at all. I'm pretty sure I can contact his neighbors, though, because they have a small business, an art gallery or something like that. 

I've also been trying to email a guy on Craig's List about a cornet, a Conn Connstellation which is a good "pro" instrument but for some reason he states how long it is and I checked, I wouldn't be able to stick it into my bike bag and zip the bag up. I want something I can stick in there and no one knows it's there. 

This has me back to thinking I might buy a new Schagerl that's a "shepherd's crook" model which is nice and short. Can stuff it in my bike bag. The reason this is a concern is, I can get downtown on Friday evenings a bit earlier, and fit an hour of busking in before going to the temple. It can make a real difference in my finances. 

Thanks to buying that $12 4-pack of Guinness, I'm back down to no money to spend until I get paid. I have $60 in a jar and if I get to my next pay check without spending it I'll send another $60 to the Biden campaign. It's a tiny bit irritating that once I'd sent them $60 I got messages saying "send us another $60" but as it's them I don't mind. 

My thinking is this: In an ideal world, I'll go on election day to that very same bar I did in 2016, and Biden will win, and I'll have $100 or more on me to buy drinks for people. So, what if instead of hanging onto $100 or a bit more to buy drinks, I sent that money to the campaign? That makes a lot more sense. 

I packed some things and got out of here the usual time. I found some packing stuff and a few things to list and then stopped by Tom's and hung out a while. Tom made popcorn and I had some, and drank the two beers I've left with him because he's not going to drink them, and while we talked Tom got out a package of crepes (finally) and made some chicken and cheese roll-up things, eating three and saving two for his wife, who seems to sleep the days away. She's very worried about her son. I hope he pulls through too. It will be disastrous for her if he doesn't. 

The man who called him "America's Hitler"

 I woke up and did something unfortunate: I turned on the radio. Dirty Diaper Don has announced hi running mate, a J. D. Vance. Where had I heard his name before? Or do I have him mixed up with J. R. from the old TV series "Dallas"? No, it turns out Mr. Vance had written a book that did rather well called "Hillbilly Elegy". 

I'd been interested in the book when it came out, but lost that interest when it came out that the author had not pulled himself up by his bootstraps but was born rather well-off and had made himself, through connections, more well-off. A parallel is Jim Foxworthy who made many millions bagging on "rednecks" while being the son of an IBM executive, dropping out of college to be a mainframe tech because his father fixed him up with the job (which would have paid better than almost any degreed job) and started out in comedy clubs with his one trick of picking on the actual working class. 

So J.D. Vance's book didn't interest me after all, and another part of Vance's working-class schtick was calling Trump "America's Hitler". There's an exact parallel for this part of his life also. I call it the wooing of Goebbels. 

Goebbels didn't like Hitler at first. Goebbels was well educated and wanted to write poetry and novels. He thought Hitler was crude and even dangerous. So the two were brought together, Goebbels went to one of Hitler's spit-filled speeches, and apparently after wiping the flecks of phlegm off of his noble visage, decided Hitler was just fine and he'd swear the utter loyalty to the person of Hitler required. 

Now, no doubt, Vance is still calling El Dumpo "America's Hitler" but as the saying goes, "That's a good thing!". Donnie + Vance are going to appeal to the "forgotten Americans" in the same way as their role models no doubt. 

I'm sure Vance's plan called for concentration camps for the non-Aryans, and then there will be the quest for lebensraum. If I were Canada or Mexico I'd be very nervous right now. Most of the "Forgotten Germans" died in WWII, mostly on the Eastern Front. I suspect we'd have the same. The Northern Front will be like the old Western, the fighting a bit more genteel if war can be said to be. The Southern Front will be the one that bashes the hull of the Nazi 2.0 ship of state to pieces on its insurmountable rocks. For one thing we'll be fighting all of South America also, as we've made enemies of most of those countries already. We'll have tons of trouble inside our country unless anyone with brown skin is thrown into a camp, which brings problems of its own. Canada will be backed by NATO while Mexico and S. America will likely have Chinese backing. The US will be allied with Russia but Russia is showing itself to be a paper tiger. Its ships sink a lot, for instance. Hopefully the Ukrainians will bleed them white by the time this big quest for lebensraum begins. And hopefully I'm out of here. 

They'll be scraping every crackhead off the streets of New Orleans for this war. No need for actual physical fitness or intelligence, just a pure DNA test. This is why the Nazi/US quest for lebensraum, the attempt to overtake the entire North American continent, will fail in the same way Nazi Germany's quest to take over the entire Eurasian continent failed. Alienate/imprison/kill a good portion of the smartest people in your country, declare war on most of the rest of the world, and demonstrate that you intend to wipe entire populations off the face of the Earth, and you'll end up like one of those "kung fu" guys who's watched a lot of TV and honestly think you can take on three street fighters at once.

Everything awful is being described, For instance the new Nazi government is supposed to be more "crypto friendly" in other words, the biggest scam to come down the pike. I'm not sure how this is supposed to work with a lot of working class prepper types preferring silver, gold, lead, and brass. They trust banks even less than I do. And they dread a fully digital money system. Even the Nazis 1.0 had to mint coins in silver. Again, our new Nazis won't let reality get in the way of a good fantasy. 

More awfulness: First a light, entertaining piece on how awful Orthodox Judaism is (presented as Judaism in general) then NPR goes on to mention that the Dump-appointed judge in his classified documents case is dropping all charges. 

I'm reminded of those videos of a very clumsy, generally very overweight, tripping all over themselves in the process of trying to climb a few steps or some such easy task, and with each twist and flop appears to injure themselves even worse. That person being what I'm increasingly dismayed to say is my country. 

The next hour or so is spent gushing over this J. D. Vance, the Himmler to Dump's Hitler. There's a very good change Diaper Don wont' live through a second term as he is most definitely not aging gracefully. Vance is much, much younger, not even 40, so he can take over as dictator for many decades. NPR, or the corporations that largely fund NPR, thinks this is interesting and cool. 

Of course a dictator's regime needs A Book. Hitler his his Mein Kampf, Stalin had Marx and Lenin's writings. Mao had his Little Red Book. This new regime will have this one: https://www.baconsrebellion.com/wp/the-lies-in-hillbilly-elegy/ all in all no more full of falsehoods than Mein Kampf, and no more unrealistic than Mao's tome. 

I was able to pack about a dozen things and took off at 4. I dropped the things off at the downtown post office, then went over to Whole Foods where I got a slice of garlic ricotta pizza which is really good, and a Trumer Pils. 

At the checkout, some Karen behind me said "You're the trumpet guy!" and I said I'll be the cornet guy too if a guy on Craig's List answers my email. The Karen could not understand anything not said while yelling, so I had to yell this a 2nd time so she understood. She had a can of Trumer Pils too so that gave an opportunity for me to say something nice and neutral, that it's a great hot-weather beer. By this time I was checked out and the Karen said BYE! and I said Bye but that upset her - not loud enough so I had to do this stage-yell BUYEEEE! thing. Idiot Karen. 

I'd gotten some broccoli along with the pizza and since the food is by weight at the hot bar, that was some expensive broccoli. Next time maybe I'll get some toasted kale or something. It was all good though. 

After eating I got the bright idea to go to what I was sure was a CVS down by the Valley Medical place on Santa Clara Street. I went down there and it was a Walgreen's - no booze as opposed to the booze wonderland a CVS can be. I rode back to Market Street then down to the "Neighborhood Market" Walmart I always go to. 

Going there on a Monday was not a good tactic. I'd swear I was in line 45 minutes, then the couple in front of me could not come up with a card that worked and tried paying with a smart phone somehow and that didn't work either. Eventually they had to leave their stuff and I paid for mine and said my farewells to the nice older couple I'd been talking with who were after me. 

Now it was 7:30 at least. I found some books on the way home - OK many of them. And stopped at TAK Market for a bottle of Guinness as that would go well with the boiled peanuts I'd just bought. They had Guinness in every configuration but pint bottles so I had to get a 4-pack of cans. A pint of Guinness at Whole Foods is $3.25, the same as it was in Newport Beach 30 years ago. I figured it would be maybe $4 at TAK but the 4-pack was $12 and change, which was not bad. 

I have to apologize a bit to the hero kid who almost capped Donnie Dumpo. He'd just climbed up a ladder to the top of a building, a cop went up to check the situation out, kid pointed his rifle at the cop who retreated (even Sgt. Saunders was allowed to duck when lead might come his way) and then, without having time to set up a position, get his breathing under control, etc., he got off 7 or 8 shots and with actually pretty good accuracy. If Donnie hadn't moved his fat head we'd all be celebrating now. So, Good Job, kid. You're a hero and a credit to our country. 

This all makes me ponder the trope that's gone around for the last couple of decades about the average lift of empires. It seems to be 250 years, with 220 years being the median. We're at about 238 years now. We are seriously pondering, as a nation, whether leaders are to be chosen by the will of the people or by connivance and force. That this is a serious question says a lot towards our perhaps living in the very end of the American empire. 

Getting what you ask for

 I woke up this morning and on the radio all they're talking about is the ridiculous failed attempt by the young hero to rescue our country from fascism. At least a point is being made, that Dirty Diaper Don has been calling for violence for years, talking endlessly about shooting political opponents and those of his own party not loyal enough, and now he's all surprised someone took a shot at him. 

Maybe the message is now becoming clear. If that menace is allowed to pollute the White House again, we will start our "years of lead". 

I got out of here far too late to catch the lunch crowd if there really is one, but I'm pretty sure it was the 4:30 - 5:30 hour that I played at Whole Foods. I actually played for 15 or 20 minutes at the Old Spaghetti and someone toss in $2 but it didn't feel promising. 

So over to WF it was, and while it was windy, it wasn't too hot and there wasn't a booth set up with scammers dividing the public's attention. So I played my hour and had fun because I tried out some new songs and talked with people, and in the end I'd made $44. Then I took a break for food and a beer and then chewed gum to get my mouth clean again, and rode down to Willow Glen. I figured I'd play in that little niche where the movie theatre used to be, but when  I got there, there was a gal singing in the bar 2 doors down, "The Wheelhouse" or something, and if I played it would interfere with her. 

So I went into BevMo to look around. I found a liquor that's lemon flavored that might be what I'll need next week, and picked up a box of wine. But when  I got to the checkout, the wine was magically $6 more expensive. "Wait," I said, "I have a bunch of $1's in the car I want to use up, I'll go get 'em". And walked out. 

I went to Mr. T's thinking maybe it was one of those "treasure cave" places, but no, it makes TAK Market look upscale. Let's face it, Willow Glen is ghetto. To further emphasize its ghetto-ness, I came across two old phonographs in big standing cabinets on the sidewalk on the Lincoln Avenue, and took what parts I could manage with my Swiss Army Knife. Skeezy types on bikes rode by, no doubt ready to double back after a suitable while, to scavenge what I hadn't gotten.

I rode back over to Whole Foods and what the hell, it's practice, set up and played another hour, from 6:30 - 7:30.  I got $20 and a fresh apricot. That brings me up to $66 for the day which is pretty good.

I rode back carefully since I had two Whole Foods bags, one now with a big rip, carrying the two big phonograph parts, got back here, some minor parking lot cleanup, and I'm done for the day. 

As practice my playing went well. I'm starting to really listen to tone and vibrato, to try to make each note sound as good as I can and it's helping. Treating busking as practice is a good idea. At one point I said to a guy that I take requests, and he said, "Whatever you like, man, improvise" so I played My Funny Valentine, the version Chet Baker made famous. He got a kick out of that. And a dopey Christian lady gave me a $5 with one of those stupid pamphlets they're always handing out wrapped around it. I waited for her to be out of sight then got rid of the propaganda. All in all it was a friendly, happy day. 

Dinner was 2 crepes filled with beef chunks fried with diced onion and potato, and sort of thick, soft, potato chips I made with the rest of the potato. All free things except for the beef and I guess I had to pay for the hot sauce and mayo I put on the filling, but a pretty cheap, and delicious, meal. 

Very Disappointing

 Well, someone had a shot at Low Budget Orange Hitler. It gives me hope for this country, but the guy unfortunately only winged him. Pus someone else near Dumpo died, which isn't like someone innocent was hit because no one hanging around with The Dump is innocent. But all in all, while I'm glad to see a present-day Nathan Hale, it's very disappointing that it didn't come out right. 

But back to Friday. I'd been drinking this Chilean red wine I bought at Sprouts, and had an awful headache when I got up. I packed the things that needed to go, got myself cleaned up, loaded up my load of books, and took off. After dropping the packages off at the post office, I rode right past my bank (since Ken didn't pay me this week) and to the used book store. 

I only got $10 trade credit for this batch, and had $55 trade credit on hand. The book I wanted that I thought was $75, was $65 so it came out just right. "The Koren Humash" (chumash). It's going for $100 used on Amazon so I did fine. 

Then I took the books that were not wanted and put them in the little free library on Park and Shasta, which turned out to have room. That was nice. 

Then I went over to Whole Foods and got a slice of pizza and a tall can of Trumer Pils, which is really good for super hot weather. I got a 2nd slice of pizza when I was halfway through the can so it was a real dose of good old pizza and beer. And that, and maybe the physical exercise, I'm not sure, made my headache go away. 

The Friday night service was as always, singing cowboy songs, doing the prayers which I'm very gradually learning, the usual things. This time I met and hung around quite a bit with a guy who's a retired doctor and "a hell of a piano player" (his words) which I believe. We talked about playing by ear vs. playing off of sheet music, and other things. Philip, the trumpet player, got accepted at this audition for Hammer Theatre he went to, for a part in Fiddler On The Roof. I'm intrigued by how a person can obtain the connections to get to do such a thing. Realistically any time I had free to do something like that is better spent out busking, but like everything else in this town, it's hard to find out there's a theater at all, much less to actually obtain tickets somehow or audition for a part. Ken and I laugh about how electronics surplus here is pretty secret and "insider" but everything else is like that too. 

I hope Philip does well, though. I can't really afford the ticket to see it, and can't afford the time to try to weasel my way into an audition, so it's not something I'll have anything to do with. When I was in high school I wondered why they were taking us to the museum and to various things. As an adult I realized that unless you're upper middle class at least, that one time you visit the museum or to to a symphony are going to be the only time in your life you ever do. 

Since the pizza filled me up pretty well, I just drank some ice water and hung out a bit talking with some people, then just had to tell the cop about the latest books I'd seen in the gun section in the book store. 

Then I took off, not going right home by way of Hedding but instead over to Whole Foods to buy things. I'm beginning to realize you can't get roast beef in this town unless you get the really super cheap stuff that comes sliced in those little packages, or you get a roast and roast it yourself. Sprouts didn't have it, and while in theory Whole Foods has it, I can never get anyone to cut some for me. I kept being told the guy would be back in 5 minutes and I think he'd left for the day. 

I'd gotten ground beef and kebab seasoning and was going to cook up 1/2 of it into kebabs I could put in the fridge and eat cold, but I never did it. Hence looking for roast beef in Whole Foods. I eventually got some cold fried chicken and other things, and sort of had my Shabbat meal but not really. 

It was so unbearably hot when I got home I had to have the door open and the fan on, so not only were lighting two candles a security breach because they'd perhaps be visible, but  I doubt they'd stay lit. So I had my chicken and more Chilean wine and eventually went to bed. 

I woke up this morning with a bad headache again. It could be I'll have to give up red wine but I think the problem is the Chilean stuff which tasted heavy and a bit vinegar-y. I poured what I had out and put the partial box out for the bums. Let a bum get an awful headache! 

Once it was evening I decided to do again what had helped me yesterday - a fairly light beer and greasy food. I rode up to H Mart, took a quick look in the hot case and there were some good things there, but I wanted to go over to Sprouts first and see if they had roast beef in. They did not, so I grabbed a "Black Box" of wine and a couple of different beers, and then it was back over to H Mart. I thought about checking out Mod Pizza but I remembered that I'd looked at the prices a while back and they were pretty high. I'd take my chances at H Mart, I decided. 

When  I got there the two things I wanted were there - a $9.95 beef and rice plate and a $5.99 package of just beef. I stacked those up and got a cucumber and at the checkout grabbed some Xylitol gum. I'd put the cheaper hot food on top and they're 2 for one where if one is more, they go for the greater price. But the checker was in a hurry so I got both for the $5.99 - cool. 

I rode back here and had beef and rice and pickled daikon and beer.

Cash cache catch

 I woke up around 10, had my cup 'O' Elite with cream, and planned my day. Ken didn't have his check book with him so he's supposed to come by tonight with my pay. Meanwhile, I wanted to obtain at least one more bottle of wine. Which is $4 at Whole Foods and decent taste, $4 if they have it at Sprouts but quality is less, and I had $4.95 on me in change and another dollar in my wallet. 

The $100 tip notwithstanding, the "lunch crowd" didn't look as good as my imagination pictured it, before I'd gone out busking for that fateful 20 minutes on Tuesday. 

I decided to go ahead and get 15 things together and at least photograph them and then go from there. So I took a gadget apart and the parts, along with a few other things, made the 15 and I photo'd them. 

If I could pack things in an hour,  I could make my post office run at the right time to go to my favorite food truck. And I made it, even packing the one large-ish thing in a box that still fit in a Whole Foods cloth bag so I'd not need the trailer. 

I headed out and sure enough the lunch truck was there. I had chicken wings for $3 in change which were excellent, then a little tray of tater tots for $1.95 in change. With tartar sauce - yum! I went to throw out the little tray and there was money on the ground - I saw a $20 and maybe a $10 in the wad? No matter, I casually scooped it up and put in my pocket while tossing out the tray and then cleaning up with wet wipes as I always do. 

The last customer I'd seen was an Asian gal who paid with her phone somehow, for 2 energy drinks for $7. Before here had been a Black guy who'd ordered a cheeseburger with no fries, and he'd be back later. Before them were some Mexican guys. The Asian gal would not have cash, and especially not cash in a careless wad like that. The Black guy, the Mexicans, who knows. I had no idea where to find any of them and if you go into any shop and say "Who lost a wad of money?" everyone will have. 

Once I got a few lights away and had to wait for the light to change, I took a look at the wad and organized it - it was four $20's. Eighty bucks. That solves the question of whether I should go downtown, I thought. 

I dropped the post office things off, then rode over to 99 Ranch. I checked the ingredients in my beloved "White Curry Mee" and sad to say, it's got "crustaceans and shrimp" in it so it's treif. Then I looked for a can of the cheap "Kona" beer they used to sell and that I used to drink around back. I got a "black" Korean beer instead and drank that out back. 

Next I went to H Mart to lock the bike and took the one FedEx package to FedEx and then walked over to Sprouts. I got a box of wine and a bottle of good Josh Cellars wine for Shabbat and since they didn't have anything else I wanted right then, looked for some beer to share with Tom on my way back. I got a 6 pack of "Kona Big Wave" which was about the cheapest. 

It was a heavy load walking back and the heat sure didn't help. Around back of H Mart I picked up 4 Dole pineapples that should be good enough to make smoothies of anyway. Now I was really heavily loaded. 

I went over to Tom's and he didn't want me to open a beer for him so I gave him a couple for later, and he said he's not been "mixing his medication" since he started taking blood pressure medication. "The next time you come by, they'll probably still be here". So Tom the legendary drinker is now Tom the legendary non-drinker. This probably also helps his budget a lot, from my own experience. His wife, having been laid off, is almost certainly getting unemployment insurance but he's still got to take her out to dinner and things like that to keep her happy. At least the smoothies flow freely at Tom's.

I remarked on how I was impressed, that I'd been by yesterday and James had cleaned up his big pile of trash. Nope, Tom said, the City had come through and "swept" the area. I just don't get the allure of living among mountains of trash, myself. Tom went back to his air-conditioned office and I rode back here. 

I listed the things and did stuff around here, mainly trying to deal with the heat, and eventually around 8PM decided to cook myself an omelet and ate it, then waited some more, did parking lot clean up, waited, tried calling Ken's cell phone with no answer and finally called his house. He'd completely forgotten to come by with my check. He came up with lots of cockamamie plans and I said I have enough savings in the bank so it's not an emergency or anything, and he can just write me a bigger check next Wednesday night. Such is life in tech; you never know when/if you're going to get paid.This is why I've become so big on saving money. 

Why so snotty

 Why am I so snotty/sniffly all the time these days? There's got to be a bunch of shit in the air, pollen or who knows what else. I showed Ken how the dirty air here had killed our old printer, and unlike a printer, my system has to be self-cleaning, hence all the snot I guess. It may be a sign of good health but it's still annoying. 

I suppose however annoying the weather is here, it's worse in New Orleans, a place I contemplated going to retire for a hot minute. It gets really hot and damp there. There's no beach, really. There's swampy stuff and crawdads, but basically you just sweat and, I guess, drink. 

When Katrina wiped the place out there was this (turned out to to be) short-term romanticism and "boostering" of New Orleans. The TV series Treme was a classic example. I was buying it on DVD at Fry's and it was excellent. 

Hype about N.O. has died way down, but still, if I went there to play my trumpet (Eentsy Weentsy Spider anyone?) and be a hip cool New Orleans guy, I guess I'd keep a blog going but I'd capitalize on it. For instance, I sure can't capitalize on living in San Jose. But New Orleans? Ha-cha-cha! I could make T-shirts and coffee mugs etc and sell them on Teespring or whatever's being used these days. 

I could self-publish a book or two on Amazon, of weird New Orleans stories of which I'd have plenty in no time. Squalor - readers in Davenport Iowa whose idea of a spicy time is a bit too much pepper on their mashed potatoes, love reading about squalor. I could publish a book of my original songs, or a CD of same. Sell music however Tanya Huang does these days - it involves computer codes fans pay to use to access files rather than physical CDs. 

I could publish a book of my satire lyrics and they'd be 100X more likely to be a hit because the artist behind them would be in NEW ORLEANS. That's how this stuff works. 

I had the misfortune a couple of days ago to end up talking to a local bum. It happened this way: I passed by my favorite veggie dumpster and there was a bum there. So  I rode a slow circle around the parking lot thinking, "No meth-head can stay in one place for long" but as  I came around the 2nd time he was still there. Fuck it,  I pulled right up and checked out the veggies. The bum was eating an avocado he'd peeled like an orange. I made light talk about the veggie prospects and ended up getting two big heads of broccoli (one was dinner last night) and the bum handed me an onion. 

We talked and shot the shit and it turned out he was the guy who played drums. Yes, with a kit; somehow he fit a kit into his RV. I said he was really good and essentially, "You're sitting on a gold mine, kid". I told him to assemble a "suitcase" kit and go busking, he'll make money. I told him about a guy on drums with a kit in Santa Cruz and makes really good money. He told me how he'd played on Rogers Avenue and some people stop and tip him, apparently. I felt in now way inclined to even approach the source of the drumming, however good. 

In other words, the guy's been largely hiding his light under a bushel, hoping to be "discovered". I told him how he's gotta get out there. He's got to get out where there are lots of people, and preferably where musicians will hear him and he'll get asked to sit in, or even fill in for bands' drummers when needed. You can make a good career out of drumming, I said. 

I could have gone on and on but I was talking with a bum, after all. He's the same crazy guy I talked to years ago who was playing around with a drone and told me he was "going with" the daughter of the owner of this complex. All of is pure nutball, as the complex has changed owners a couple of times since then. Or managers or something. He told me all kinds of imaginary stuff about the daughter of the owner having an office in here and doing everyone's taxes. Then he told me about a female bum who'd died right there on Zanker Road a couple of days ago, a fentanyl overdose, and he'd called the cops and had detectives working with him yadda yadda. I don't disbelieve a bum-ess choosing to be dead, but the rest of it .... 

But anyway, I've seen this a few times, a real mis-match between a musician's skill (high) and their ability to get out there where the people are and where they'll really be noticed (low). I still have the sticker given me by the "Southbay Swindlers" who were really excellent, but weren't getting any tips because they were playing in a lousy location. 

So the thing is, if you're going to be in a location that the world romanticizes, almost as much as Hawaii, and just sit in an apartment and smoke crack, then you can't blame anyone else for not being "discovered". 

More hammering on Biden on good old NPR. It's the most idiotic idea ever, to change candidates this soon before an election. It doesn't matter, ultimately, as I'll vote blue whether it's Biden, a house plant, or that dog in the Target ads with a circle around its eye. 

I've got a $1 bill in my wallet plus $4.95 in change in my change bag, and I feel fine. I used to panic a bit if I didn't have money to spend every day, but due to my recent "tests of character" now I feel OK about simply not spending for a few days. 

I packed 14 things and discovered one of my trailer tires was flat. I tried using my little pump because it's easier to get on there, and that was pure no-go. So  I got out my floor pump which was harder to attach but I was able to fill it up in no time and apparently the Slime inside went to the hole and the air stayed in. 

I went off to the post office and FedEx, found some packing stuff on the way home, a bunch of OTC medicines and band-aids and stuff from the EMT place, and got back here. I'd also found a big packet of In-N-Out sauce so I got back here and used 1/4 lb of hamburger to make In-N-Out roll-ups with the two crepes out of the package that were left (I'd made 3 egg burritos with the other three). They were good but very messy just like eating at In-N-Out. 

Ken came by at his usual time and even brought me a burger and fries, but he looked around in his car and had forgotten his check book so no pay until tomorrow night. At least he can order shipping supplies now because he just got paid by *his* boss. We still hung out and talked and solved the problems of the world.