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.
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