Home Of the Homeless Homeys (Reprise)

The noise in town last night was almost unbearable. Derelicts were arguing and yelling, but I could not pinpoint their location. This morning at 6am, a barrage of sirens awoke me. Then, the air horn of a large ship in the port near the Aloha Tower Marketplace shook me out of bed. I walked to the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill around 8am. I drank my morning coffee there. Then, I caught the bus to Hawai'i Kai.

Moms and I took the bus to Koko Marina and ate lunch at Yummy's. After lunch, moms did a little shopping at Foodland. I walked moms part of the way home. Then, I caught the bus back to town. Pseudo-professor Glenn stopped by the faculty computer room. He said that a realtor came by to take pictures of his apartment. He's a little concerned because it's quite obvious that the owner is planning to put the place up for sale. The rest of the day? Gym. Beans and rice for dinner. Walk to Safeway®. Peruse the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the Net.

The discussion yesterday with Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, was interesting. He's a strange guy, but he's a good man. He's a loner as well. I'm not sure how he's going to survive. Right now, he's drawing off of savings. He is going to lose his health plan soon when the COBRA time limit runs out. He needs the health plan because of his health issues. He also needs about $400 in medication per month. To prepare for the inevitable, he has stockpiled the drugs that he needs the most. Selling his place won't do him much good. He must split the proceeds three ways. Then, he will have to find rental housing. He believes that he can move to the mainland to find a job, in case Internet Jon's project doesn't pan out. Frankly, that's a bad plan. Rob is 58 years old. He's not going to find a job on the mainland, especially after being employed only part-time for over a year.

I have done nothing more about my situation. My crap is still sitting in storage. The next payment for the storage unit at Hy-Pac is coming up on July 15th. I will need another place to stay after July 10th. I need to find parking for my truck as well. These issues continue to haunt me daily, but I would rather ignore them. What I need to do is purge all of the unnecessary crap and sell my truck.

Money has also become an unusual preoccupation. I am not certain why this is. Even before, I was extremely nervous about my money situation. Yet, I have never dipped into savings. In fact, I was actually putting away an incremental amount of dough. Right now, I am on unpaid vacation. So, I have depleted over half of my reserves. Rather than transfer any of the funds, I just sit and fret about it. I do not know what is happening to me. I absolutely refuse to recognize the existence of any my savings. Thus, I am operating at a poverty level for no apparent reason.

Janice called about the rental out in Mano'a. It seems that one of the tenants in a smaller unit want to trade with the larger unit. The smaller unit would be available at $795 per month. Had this news come to me a week ago, I would have probably taken it. It's too late for me to back out of the purchase of the "condotel" unit.

The homeless are becoming much more visible to me on a daily basis. Well, it could be that more are being added to the ranks daily. The older babe who sits out on Fort Street Mall all day with her belongings is still there. She still has the three hand trucks piled with stuff, each one covered with a blue tarp. She sits in a camping chair under an umbrella to shield her from the sun. She is not the stereotypical homeless person. There are also a few more of the shopping cart variety homeless roaming the streets. Then, there is a homeless guy who goes to the gym. I've seen him twice now. He has two roller-type luggage with him. He spends about 30 minutes sorting through his stuff on one of the gym benches. I excused myself to get into my locker, which he was blocking. He merely grunted. I could tell that he was not in the best of spirits. I assumed that he was recently displaced.

Most of the people who look like derelicts on Fort Street Mall are not homeless, by the way. Many of those people are in the various halfway houses nearby or in the IHS facility. These are the fortunate ones. The poorest class of homeless have only a backpack with their worldly possessions. They sleep wherever they can, usually on flattened cardboard boxes in storefront entrances or in the municipal parks. The more affluent class are the shopping cart variety. They have more possessions contained in stolen shopping carts. They are enslaved to these carts, for fear of being robbed. They often sleep on benches in sheltered bus stops. The most affluent of the homeless are the recently displaced. They are the people of the "tent city." They are employed. They usually have cars.

What I mean by "recently displaced" is that those people were once living in some kind of housing, most likely rentals. When rents went up or when a financial crisis occurred, these people were forced to move. The problem with missing rent payments, breaking a lease, or being evicted is that there is no possibility of ever renting a place again. All property managers rely upon a background check. Once a blemish like that appears on record, the rental application is discarded. That's how easy it is to become homeless permanently.

While I doubt that I will find myself permanently displaced in the immediate future, there is nothing to preclude its occurrence further down the line. I doubt that many people believe that it could happen to them. That is why there is so much resentment toward the homeless of all classes. The affluent class of homeless in the "tent city" may have been our neighbors once.

Indigo Blues

Last night, I walked to the Pali Longs®. I bought a bottle of Vendage® Merlot. The hot working chicks were out along Kukui Street. I've never seen traffic that heavy along this street before. In the course of walking along the block, I saw several of the hotties driving off with clients, as well a few being dropped off. Business was really brisk. I can see why. Several of the hotties were centerfold material. Obviously, I had to spend the rest of the night perusing the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site.

The hurdy-gurdy industry is a huge cash cow. I am still perturbed that our small group never implemented the dubious business plan of eight years ago. The industry continues to grow because of high demand. There are an incredible amount of guys who pay lots of dough for hurdy-gurdy material and for the personal service offered by the working chicks (e.g., Kukui Street). Incidentally, the Adult DVD Talk Forums is a prime example of how wrapped up guys become with hurdy-gurdy material. Let's hope that the ol' lavahead does not become as pathetic.

I woke up early this morning. Even when I was perusing the hurdy-gurdy hotties on the Net, I was contemplating my decision to purchase the "condotel" unit in the Aloha Surf Hotel. In fact, I met with Debbie, my realtor, at 10am to sign the paperwork. I also called Brenda at Bank of Hawai'i to confirm the loan details. I had to draft a $1,000 check to begin the escrow process.

To some people, this may be a real disappointment and a real setback to my ultimate exodus from society. However, I can safely say that I do not have many alternatives. Yes, I was seriously contemplating becoming fully unemployed and just living in a tent. However, there is a very strong movement to "sweep" the homeless completely off the island. This class struggle is going to hit a fever pitch very soon. And, I do not want to be caught in the maelstrom when that happens. In addition, rental prices have gone up significantly within the last two weeks. One could easily say that I should have rented a place in advance. Well, it's easy to say a lot of things in hindsight.

I am also caught up in a particularly interesting financial dilemma. I have too much money in the sense that I will pay out a lot in taxes. However, I have too little dough to be financially free in Hawai'i. Obviously, the problem is the fact that I reside in Hawai'i. The methodology of survival that I've been trying to apply does not work here, which is why I am thwarted at every turn. Urban survival on an overcrowded island will take much more savvy. Even then, I find that I am still reactive to my circumstances. Hence, my decision to purchase the "condotel" unit.

What makes my current situation even more ludicrous is that I could easily find myself unemployed next year. Yet, I persist in playing the money game normally reserved for the affluent. In some respects, my perception of myself as an "outsider looking in" has created a lot of anxiety. I am uncomfortable because I do not fit in this segment of society. I am much more comfortable in the losers' environment. My decisions normally do not have any form of linearity. Hence, the path that I've taken is not a straight line to any clear destination. In other words, I've made no commitment to anything. I am freely moving about, but I am still subject to entropy.

I am not sure why I've been so frugal in my advanced years. Everyone else is spending money like there's no tomorrow, but they manage to keep going. Even now, I am very disturbed about the amount of money the "condotel" unit is going to absorb. I am not sure why I am interested in capital preservation beyond the ability to generate part of my income stream. I do find that, no matter how much money is saved, it's just never enough.

After the gym, I met up with Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum. We were able to chow down on good grub and drop back a few Sake Martinis at Indigo Happy Hour. There were a lot of hotties there, including one of the bartenders. Rob is still planning to sell his place. Another offer has come in, but it was a little low. All in all, it was nice to be out and about. The rest of the evening? Peruse the hurdy-gurdy babes on the Net, of course!

The Survival Game

Last night, I walked to Safeway® There were a whole mess of hotties running around the store. All I could do was add a bottle of Barefoot® Chardonnay to my shopping basket. Later, I enjoyed another long night perusing the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site. Pseudo-professor Glenn's realtor, Jim, replied to my e-mail asking for an extension on the decision to rent the Fairway Villa studio. He was gracious enough to allow me more time. Thank goodness.

I woke up later than usual this morning. I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I basically spend all day on the computer. The gym is my only break. No wonder I am going insane.

Debbie sent e-mail this afternoon about the counteroffer for the "condotel" unit at Aloha Surf Hotel. The owners set up all kinds of costly provisions for early occupancy. The counteroffer itself came in at $147,500 which is still high. Debbie has offered to rebate me about $1,500 of her commission. I will most likely accept the offer, but I will need to nix the early occupancy crap. I'll try to book a room at the YMCA or at the Showertree Hotel. As I mentioned before, I have been monitoring the rental listings in craigslist. Rentals have gone up significantly. In addition, the so-called "rentals to share" are even more ludicrous. People are asking between $700 to $1,200 per month to share a place. The whole housing situation is fatiguing.

I called Ralph, Dean at HCC, to query his opinion about purchasing the "condotel." As always, Ralph is a wealth of information. He seemed to believe that the "condotel" unit will fit my life-style. I am not even certain if I have a life-style. As I pondered the events of today, I realized that I will always be enslaved. My refusal to conform to societal "norms" has locked me into a greater form of slavery, one possibly without an escape.

I am making my life more complicated again. I just cannot seem to simplify and downgrade everything. Incurring another mortgage with my precarious employment situation is not exactly prudent. However, my previous calculations had shown that I could only benefit by renting if the rent was $800 or less. I cannot afford to pay mortgage-level rent and pay taxes on investment income at the same time. Deciding to cast everything aside and simply become homeless would be even more foolish. I would have to join the ranks of the "tent city" crowd, who are all destined to be displaced very soon by another "sweep." Survival in this city is an entirely different game. The monk life-style is not going to work.

More Homeless Stuff. Yet another article about the homeless appeared in the Advertiser this morning. Whether people choose to believe it or not, the homeless situation is getting out of hand. It is even more interesting to note that my assertion that the homeless living in the huge "tent city" are affluent homeless was correct. They have jobs. Many of them have cars. They are also able to afford a large tent. Contrast the latter to the less affluent homeless who are sleeping on flattened cardboard boxes in storefront entrances. The housing situation is out of control. It has pushed people out of the lower middle class into the impoverished class.

The backlash from the "respectable" people that we are observing is really a sublimated form of fear. Many of them realize that they are one financial crisis away from moving to the "tent city." The public outcry stems from the need to remove the painful truth from view. Out of sight, out of mind. I would suspect that we will see the number of homeless increase each month as rental leases come up for renewal.

Espiritu

Last night, Pseudo-professor Bill wanted to meet for drinks after his class at the Diploma Mill. We were supposed to meet at the Indigo. However, the place was closed. Somehow, our wires got crossed and we never met up anyway. That's okay with me. I need to stay "on the wagon," if you know what I mean.

The City and County has begun yet another sweep of the homeless, this time on the West side of the island, according to an article in the Star-Bulletin. Naturally, officials denied the obvious. The first sweep was implemented at Ala Moana Beach park. The outcry comes from people who are not homeless. This is the class warfare at its best.

The homeless situation is only going to get worse. One look at craigslist, the haven of cheap rentals, reveals a disturbing trend. Rental prices have gone up significantly in the last month or so. With college students returning in August, the slumlords have had more incentive to raise monthly rents. There is also upward pressure stemming from real estate market. Hard as it may be to believe, home prices are still climbing in Hawai'i. And, people are still buying at these ridiculous prices.

This morning, I ended up at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, as to be expected. Psuedo-professor Glenn sent numerous e-mail to warn me about the Aloha Surf Hotel. He had looked into purchasing a unit in the hotel a few years ago. He was told that year-round occupancy was not possible. The "condotel" business is kind of a scam, just like mostly everything in life today. Hotels have implemented condo conversions to sell units such that the owner would incur the liability of the room and building. The hotel then just the management firm. It's a slicker way of packaging a "time share" scam. If I sense any funny business, I will rescind the offer.

Professor Lisa at Tufts sent e-mail. She is returning to Hawai'i at the end of July. She's been looking at rental units through the Net. So, she already knows how sad the rental situation is.

My only important task was to drop off a document at the escrow office at noon. The rest of the day? Gym. Bean and rice for dinner. Check mail at the Post Office. Go to Safeway®. Check out the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the Net.

Meaningless Meandering. The other night, as I walked to the Post Office, I observed a homeless guy setting up his "bed" in the sheltered entrance of a storefront. He laid down his flattened cardboard boxes. I noticed that he had an unopened bag of Safeway® Organic Potato Chips, most likely a late night snack before going to sleep.

When I walk around town during the day, I have observed that almost everyone is carrying the all too familiar plastic shopping bag fresh with something purchased at one of the various stores and eateries in town. Shopping is not just a pastime. It's a way of life. It is my guess that the average person shops for something at least once per day, whether it be out of boredom or necessity. Wage slaves are some of the worst culprits. With nothing else to do on their breaks, they just opt to spend money on something useless. Shopping has become a spiritual activity for people, replacing a spot once reserved for honoring deities. This is the core of the "existential vacuum" (as per Viktor Frankl). A large part of the "existential vacuum" is created by the need to fill the spiritual vacuum. Nothing else can explain the continual and insatiable need to shop. For the simplest of atheistic minds, shopping has become a religion.

It's none of my business about what people do in their own lives. I only make observations and wonder how I fit in, if at all. The answer is simple. I don't fit in. For me, this period of homelessness has been a cleansing. My stuff is sitting in storage for $66 per month. Out of sight, out of mind. Until the next monthly storage bill comes around. I am staying in a luxury condo, but I do not take advantage of my host's hospitality. I use the bare minimum of what is available. I've come to see how little I need for personal use. I only mention this in passing. I just wonder if this is now the opportune time to break away with the new worldly religion.

For Better or For Worse

The level of anxiety that I have been experiencing has been steadily increasing with each passing day. Perusing all og the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site is probably exacerbating the situation. Maybe I should look into purchasing one of those Fleshlight® appliances. Have you seen this stupid device? Can you imagine the ol' lavahead using that piece of shit on his Vienna Sausage? Read the "testimonials," if you have a chance. By the way, I have doing absolutely nothing about my pathetic housing situation. Thus, I sent e-mail last night to Debbie, my realtor, about submitting an offer for the "condotel" unit.

I woke up later than usual this morning. Perusing those hot hurdy-gurdy babes for hours on end is very fatiguing. I dropped my stuff off at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Then, I rode the bus to Kahala Mall to meet moms for lunch. We ate at the Panda Express® as usual. My bro is apparently shuttling to Maui to work during the week. Moms was not sure how long he will have to do that. By the way, my Panda Express® fortune cookie read, "You will win success in whatever you adopt." Debbie called and left a message. I called her back. We discussed the offer price for the "condotel" unit. She also told me that there are alternative lenders that do not have a stiff down payment requirement. If the deal goes through, there is a provision to allow me to move in early by paying $50 per day. Yes, that's high. What choice do I have?

As always, I went to the gym like a good gym rat. Well, it's not like the old days in Convalescent City with The Bull, the Bishop, the Cardinal, and the rest of the gang. Remember when we all used to go out to all-you-can-eat Chinese dinner after the gym? I miss those days. You'll have to read all of that in the old journal. Debbie called and left a message. I called her back when I returned to the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Professor Lisa from Tufts called and left a message. However, it was too late to call her back since she is in Boston.

Debbie drove to town at 5pm. I met with her to sign the paperwork for the offer for the "condotel" unit. She will be checking on other financing options, but there may be no way around the 35 percent down payment. She will also be checking on parking options. We'll be finding out if the offer goes through in just a matter of days.

Dark City

Last night, I walked to Safeway® to purchase the usual crap along with a bottle of fake "Hammer" (read: Barefoot® Chardonnay). I also walked to the Post Office to check my mail. Along the way, I saw a number of homeless people preparing for the night. They had gathered cardboard boxes and flattened them. The cardboard is then used as padding on the concrete in the entrances to numerous shops along the street. The rest of the evening? I polished off the bottle while perusing the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site. I cannot believe the sheer numbers of hotties who are in the hurdy-gurdy industry. Why was I not blessed to work as a male hurdy-gurdy star? That's the kind of career I could seriously commit to. Can you imagine doin' da wild thing with hundreds of hotties? Instead, I am a poor loser who only has his hand. Sheesh!

I had nothing to do this morning, so I spent several hours perusing the FreeOnes site again. Professor Lisa at Tufts called and left a message last night. Caroll called and left a message this morning. We were finally able to connect and chat for a few minutes. She's still in Sacramento and dealing with the same issues as before. Employment has been on and off, something that I know all too well. I briefed her on my homeless plight. All in all, it was nice to chat. I walked down to the student computer room at the Diploma Mill after the call.

The decision to rent a place or to purchase the "condotel" unit has been a major preoccupation for me. The decision will have to be made soon, primarily because I stand to lose the Fairway Villa studio rental if I wait too long. In addition, there will be an influx of students looking for rentals within a month. The rental situation is precarious in another respect. Most of the slumlords perform a background check which includes verification of income. Right now, I do not meet the minimum income requirements for the rentals that I am looking at. The Fairway Villa rental may be the only possibility for me because of the recommendation provided by Pseudo-professor Glenn. Isn't that something?

Rent appears to be increasing across the board from what I can see in the paper. I had expected the latter because of the huge property tax increase that will take effect in August. Studios, on average, are running between $1,000 and $1,200 per month in livable neighborhoods. Areas near the prison, close to the projects, or interspersed with "Section 8" housing will command slightly less rent. Area on the West side, from Waipahu to Makaha are also slightly less due to the horrendous commute to town.

The whole system is based upon wage slavery. Loans, mortgages, and rentals all require earned income. Social Security, Medicare, and private health plans are tied to wage slavery. In the general scheme of things, savings do not matter at all. It's not even figured into the equation. I would assume that someone like Anonder does all of monetary transactions in cash, not necessarily out of personal preference.

By the way, I haven't really missed any of the crap sitting in storage. I actually forgot all about the stuff. This should be a clue. Most of the crap is worthless. This became even more apparent to me when I saw all of the homeless people last night.

I felt ill for most of the day, probably because I drank the whole bottle of wine last night. I could also be suffering from hurdy-gurdy withdrawal symptoms. As always, I did my usual workout at the gym. I still shower there daily. I do not see that regimen changing in the future. That's why I do not need a large place to live in. I don't even need a kitchen since my diet does not really require any cooking. After the gym, I ended up back in the student computer room at the Diploma Mill. I dispatched an e-mail to Debbie, my realtor, expressing my interest in putting in an offer for the "condotel" unit at the Aloha Surf Hotel. Mind you, I am very uneasy about this deal. However, I know that I will be in Hawai'i for a few more years. I need a place to stay. In seven years, I will have paid off half of the mortgage (close to half of the principal). That's the beauty of it all. I asked Debbie to provide me with a list of some of the other fees associated with "condotel" units. She owns a couple of units in there as well. The rest of the day? Beans and rice for dinner. Then, I spend all evening perusing the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the Net. Wheeee!

Façade

Last night, I did nothing except to continue to peruse the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site. There really is no place to go at night. Downtown becomes a derelict's paradise after dusk. I could have taken the bus to Kahala Mall or to Ala Moana, but I decided not to. What would I do there? Window shopping? Hanging out at shopping malls increases the temptation to buy something useless. Incidentally, I could hear drunken derelicts yelling and carrying on outside along Beretania Street all night long.

I really have no desire to live in town. Being close to work is not that big of an advantage, given the fact that I will be locked up in my apartment (read: tomb) all night. Yesterday, Professor Darwin told me that his rent at Kukui Plaza just increased. He also mentioned that the demographic of downtown housing was changing. Many of the units in Kukui Plaza were rented to students. However, after the students vacated for Summer, the owners refurbished them. Some of the one-bedroom units are now renting as high as $1,800 per month. Apparently, lawyers and other professional people are scooping up the rentals. Even I cannot afford that kind of rent.

I have been endlessly pondering my choices for housing. In looking at all of my investment and savings accounts, I figured that I now have a total of $506,000 and some change. My only debt is an outstanding loan of $7,400 or so. I've already detailed the two alternatives, that is, renting an apartment versus purchasing another place. I have no desire to purchase any of the so-called condos that I've seen so far. Everything under $200,000 can be classified as dumps. The "condotel" unit is now the only place of interest to me. Putting a down payment of $50,000 is not easy to fathom. That's ten percent of my net worth. I've already figured that my monthly outlay for the "condotel" will be about $1,150 per month including property tax and maintenance fee. All utilities are included. Paying for parking in another building will cost $80 per month. The rent at the Fairway Villa will be $1,050 per month. Electricity will run at least $15 per month (HECO-imposed minimum). I am not sure if cable service is included. If not, that's another outlay. Overall, the monthly costs will be at least $100 higher at the "condotel."

So, the choice is really a matter of whether I can part with ten percent of my net worth. Provided that I can later sell the unit at a price above what I purchased it for, then the down payment was a good investment. "Good investment" means selling the unit at a price that I can break even at a minimum. Closing costs for buying and selling plus the interest portion of the monthly payments, the maintenance fee, tax deductions, and property tax must be equal to or less than the equivalent expense for a rental unit. Most likely, I will not be able to replicate the phenomenon that occurred with Chez Loser. So, I would have to stay in the unit for well over two years. One other advantage of having the option to put the unit back in the hotel pool becomes is also noteworthy. If I decide that it is not economically feasible for me to live there, I could elect to move out and become homeless (or move into a place just one step above homeless). The unit can continue to pay for itself indefinitely or until it is sold. Since the mortgage payment includes some of the principal, I will be making a little bit of money in the interim.

What if I choose to rent instead? I will have a better safety net, although at the current interest rate of 4.72 percent, the down payment money will only earn $2,350 per annum. That's taxable income, by the way. So, if I invest in the "condotel" unit, I will lose that income. Since the bank loan will be at a higher interest rate for a shorter term (15 years), then my payments will be higher. This, in itself is not bad. In the short run, I will have a higher tax deduction. In the long run, I will pay less in mortgage interest. The down payment money will not disappear. It will be converted to equity in the property. As long as the property value does not depreciate significantly, then it is similar to tax-deferred savings.

One aspect of my flawed semi-retirement plan is that I would live primarily off of my investment income. I must continue in wage slavery for obvious reasons. What if the interest rates go down? I would have less income, unless I snapped into action and locked most of the money in CDs. What about the mortgage? I was fretting about it until I realized that I could choose to refinance at a lower rate, especially if the interest rate declines to ridiculous levels like two years ago. And, if interest rates did decline, then another real estate boom would ensue. Personally, I do not expect interest rates to go down. The Fed consistently discusses the inflation issue, which is increasingly tied to oil prices.

So, that's the gist of the dilemma confronting me now as I am just days away from becoming homeless. I'm pretty sure that we know what Anonder will say. And, of course, it certainly would seem that I am moving further away from the preferred monk life-style. Perhaps I have a skewed idea of what the urban monk life-style should be. I don't know. It's true that I possess a risk-aversive temperament. And, as Anonder warned, I should stay away from risky real estate deals. Obviously, I do not have enough money to dabble in crazy investment schemes. However, this time, I am not looking at the "condotel" option as an investment. I am looking at it as a strategy in urban survival.

Part of the urban survival strategy is to deal with boredom (read: "existential vacuum"). Shopping, eating, and watching the tube are the most popular activities in urban life. I do not indulge in much of that crap. In fact, I sometimes believe that I could get by with living in a small shack out in the middle of nowhere. My ideal life is to be unemployed and living modestly with proceeds from my investments. I would stay in the shack all day and continuously view my extensive "hurdy-gurdy" DVD library. Let's face it, though. After a week, the latter routine would push anyone over the edge. Since there is no such thing as a shack out in the middle of nowhere in Hawai'i, then my ideal life is a moot point. The truth of the matter is that I have not determined what I really want to do in life. This has never been a stationary or predetermined component for me. That's why my life has been so unstable. I am certain that many of you may feel the same way.

In the end, the best we can do is to avoid goals which go to one of the opposing extremes. Too many other components and issues are at play. That is what happened to me. If I was really serious about my ideal life, I would have thrown everything out the door. In other words, I should have divested everything except the bare minimum for survival. Then, I should have sold the truck. I should also quit my job. Why didn't I? That's the only real freedom from society. I should have become a homeless guy. Yet, even in the homeless state, many people try to keep up the subterfuge of legitimacy. Yes, personal hygiene, health, and good diet are necessary to maintain some dignity, but each causes a sacrifice in the ultimate pursuit of freedom. Therefore, there really is no such concept as freedom. In one way or another, we are enslaved. Philosophical diatribe aside, I am finally seeing that I am a slave to one thing or another. Nothing will change that. I am a mortal with only a little time left. I don't think that I need to fret over semantics.

I give Anonder a lot of credit. I truly believe that he has achieved the goal that he wanted, which is quite close to the concept of freedom that I have been discussing. He was astute enough from a young age to realize that he had to amass a certain amount of wealth in order to essentially buy his freedom. With less than one-fourth of his assets, I thought that I could do the same. Perhaps it is possible. If so, then my objectives are incongruent with his. I have tried to focus on a straight-line path to some "ends." However, in all my years, that has never been possible. Lack of discipline? Incoherent thinking? Immaturity? You be the judge. Sometimes I am very disappointed in myself, what with me being a senior citizen and all. I have tried to fit in with all of the other senior citizens as I have been told to do, but to no avail. Do you see why nothing makes sense?

I woke up this morning with nothing to do. So, I spent more time perusing the hot hurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes site. Since I am now stationed in town, I no longer need to plan for any transit time on the bus. I walked to Starbucks®. I just cannot survive without my morning coffee. Then, I ended up in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. The rest of the day? Gym. Student computer lab at Diploma Mill. Monk's dinner. Peruse hurdy-gurdy babes on Net.

Hotel

I've been pondering my two current choices for housing. Right now, I am more inclined to live in Waikiki than Mano'a. The Mano'a rental is quite large, but I have few possessions. I do not plan to purchase any furniture either. Mano'a rains about as much as Kane'ohe, if not more. There are no food outlets nearby, which means that I will end up driving to a market in Mo'ilili or Kaimuki. And, I will have to park the truck on the street. The only thing that irks me about the Waikiki rental is that I will have to store my surfboard somewhere else. Waikiki is crowded and noisy, but there everything including the beach is convenient. Buses run so frequently that I will not have to worry about time schedules.

This morning, I drove my truck to New City Nissan® and dropped it off for service. I've scheduled an oil change and a couple of the recall items that need attention. After that, I ended up in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill.

At 11:40am, I walked across the street to wait for Debbie, my realtor, to pick me up. We drove to Waikiki to see a unit in the Aloha Surf Hotel. It's a "condotel" unit. The good part is that it is located in a residential neighborhood. Therefore, the property taxes are lower and the units can be owner occupied. I really liked the place. The room is obviously a hotel room, but it is completely furnished. It also has an LCD tube, a microwave oven, and a small refrigerator. All utilities are included in the maintenance fee. We saw two other non-descript condos in other parts of Honolulu. Both units were depressing.

Just as Debbie was about to drop me off at the Diploma Mill, I received a call from New City Nissan®. Debbie gave me a ride to the dealership. We chatted for a bit about putting an offer in for the unit at the Aloha Surf Hotel. After retrieving my truck, I drove back to town and parked it in the Honolulu Tower parking structure. I walked to the Diploma Mill.

I forgot to pack my towel in my gym bag this morning in yet another "senior moment." After I completed my gym workout, I made the latter discovery. I took a shower and wiped myself off with my small gym towel. Well, the rest of the day will be uneventful. Beans and rice for dinner. Check out the hurdy-gurdy babes on FreeOnes®. Oh brother.

The "condotel" unit at the Aloha Surf Hotel was really starting to appeal to me by the end of the day. I imagined myself living there. I could hang out in the hotel lobby or by the pool. Much better than a living room. I could walk to the beach. The hotel has so much more life to it than the residential condos (read: mausoleums). The bad news came from Brenda over at Bank of Hawai'i. Because the unit is so small and it has no kitchen, it is funded under a different kind of loan. I would have to make a 35 percent down payment in addition to about $4,000 in closing costs. The remaining principle will only be funded under a 15-year loan at a much higher seven percent interest rate. I would be better off if I purchased the unit as an investment. It currently makes $1,020 per month after the hotel takes its share. The interesting part is that I can always put the unit back in the hotel pool. For example, if I decide to take a vacation for a month, I could allow the hotel rent it out. It will pay for itself while I am gone. Alas, the initial costs to buy the unit are way too high. The sad part is that that the "condotel" unit fits my life-style exactly.

Behind the Green Door

I spent all evening perusing the FreeOnes® site. I kept pondering why the dubious business plan (see old journal) of circa eight years never came to fruition. If we had been successful, we could be starring in those hurdy-gurdy movies with all those hotties right now. What a dream job! Doin' da wild thing with hotties day in and day out. The Vienna Sausage would be happy as a clam, as it were. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa!

I walked to the Diploma Mill at 9:15am. I drank my morning coffee in the faculty computer room. I checked my e-mail. Nothing from the old hag about the rental unit in Aina Haina. I got an e-mail from Janice. She finally gave me the address to the place in Mano'a. I also called moms to say that I would stop by to visit. Debbie, my realtor, called. She said that closing for Chez Loser was today. My funds should have been wired to my account. We are also going to check out a few more properties tomorrow.

After much internal debate, I decided that I should drive to Hawai'i Kai. Taking the bus would have left me with severe time constraints. So, I drove out to Hawai'i Kai at 11:15am. I arrived at noon, just minutes after moms had returned. Moms and I ate lunch at Yummy's after driving down to Koko Marina. Later, I walked down to the gym. I spent a little more time with moms after that. I left Hawai'i Kai at 3:40pm.

The drive to Mano'a was smooth. I made it there a little after 4 o' clock. I parked out on the street. No one was at the residence. I waited until 4:30pm. Then, I called Janice. She was stuck in traffic. She didn't arrive until almost 5 o' clock. We took a look at the unit. There are two large house on the property. Each house has been divided up into apartments. The available apartment was quite large, although it was at the bottom of the house. It had a full kitchen, two rooms, and a lanai. The apartment itself was fairly dark. The rent is $975 and includes all utilities. The place will be available on July 10th, which is when I will be completely homeless. Overall, this is the best deal of all the places. So, why didn't I just plunk down the dough right then? I had reservations about Janice. She is Lori's friend, for one thing. She also lives in the house. Her unit is as large as a single family home. I was not really pleased with her attitude and the fact that she was 30 minutes late. Of course, beggars can't be choosy. I am at the mercy of the slumlords.

I was completely fatigued when I returned to town. The rental situation is a true lesson in masochism. These slumlords treat all potential renters like shit because they can. That's the downside of "supply and demand." There's no dignity in being poor. Well, actually money has nothing to do with it. People, in general, just like to treat other people like shit. Unless they have something to gain.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that I should have done everything in my power to get into the hurdy-gurdy industry. The ol' lavahead is as sleazy looking as any of those slobs. The ol' lavahead's Vienna Sausage would love to do da wild thing with all of those hotties. And, the ol' lavahead would love it because he would be getting paid. That could give a whole new meaning to wage slavery. Yep, had the dubious business plan actually come to fruition, the ol' lavahead may not have ended up sitting around and chokin' da chicken (literally and figuratively).

Letting Go

I spent last night checking out all the hot gurdy-gurdy babes on the FreeOnes® site. Man, where do they find these hotties? I've got to start expanding my hurdy-gurdy DVD library. Sheesh! I also walked to Safeway®. Can you guess what I bought? Yep, I'm back on the same diet.

I was pretty groggy when I woke up this morning. Seeing all of those hotties doin' da wild thing really takes a toll on the psyche. It's too bad that the Vienna Sausage is still operational. If the Vienna Sausage had stopped working just like all the other senior citizens, then I this issue would be moot. I'm not sure why the Vienna Sausage is operational. It's a real curse, though.

My morning coffee was courtesy the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. After piddling around on the computer for an hour, I left for Waikiki on the bus. I arrived there a few minutes early. My appointment with Jim, Pseudo-professor Glenn's realtor, was at 12:15pm. I stopped in at the Walina Apartments to inquire about the units there. The manager showed me one of the units. If I sign up this week, the rent will be $995 per month not including utilities. The building has no parking, but each tenant is given a parking pass to the parking structure down the street. The minimum lease term was nine months. The requirements to rent a place were steep. I won't even make the minimum income. I then met up with Jim at the Fairway Villa. He showed me the unit that was available. It's actually pretty nice for a studio. The rent will be $1,050 per month. Since Pseudo-professor Glenn gave me such a good recommendation, I will most likely be able to rent the unit without a hitch. The lease term is six months. The place also has a pool and covered parking. The real stupid part is that the House Rules do not allow surfboards to be transported and stored in any of the units. There are locked racks in the parking structure. The racks were completely full, with many surfboards being there for years. Apparently, the condo association has no idea whether any of the owners of the boards are still around. I returned to town after that.

I called the manager at Walina Apartments to ask if there were any silly House Rules about surfboards. Nada. I then called the landlord of the rental in Aina Haina. She was babbling on about how someone had come by today and may commit. Blah. Blah. I am supposed to see the place tomorrow, but the old hag was going on and on about working on the application. I don't even know the address of the place. I received e-mail from the person handling the Mano'a rental. Apparently it is still available because she wants to schedule the viewing for tomorrow as well. And, of course, she did not give me the address. What is wrong with these fools?

I was still dumbfounded about the Fairway Villa House Rules concerning surfboards. The place is in Waikiki, for goodness sakes! I surmise that most of the units are owned by senior citizens. Most likely, one of them was hit on the head in the elevator by a young punk renter with a surfboard. These condo associations are made up of a bunch of Nazi old fossils with nothing better to do than try to resurrect a Fascist regime. Al Martin used to throw in a few rants about his condo association in some his treatises. I enjoyed his site, but it became "pay-per-view" just like Mike Rupert's site. I'm way too poor to pay for a membership. Heck, I'm having a tough time scraping up the $12 annual dues for the AARP®.

I was fatigued for the rest of the day. Too fatigued to even look up more rentals. The really sad part is that I could probably buy a place much faster than renting on, what with all the "red tape." This is how stupid everything has become. Little wonder why I sit and ponder whether homelessness may be the freedom that I am looking for. I read an interesting entry in the Survival Guide to Homelessness. The author stated, "Homelessness changes you. So does having a house. Your priorities become the priorities of the extant lifestyle. What you do with money has much to do with how you are living. All lifestyles are investments, and we continue to add resources in an effort to improve their performance. Abandoning a lifestyle is something we never do without a serious push. Once a lifestyle is comfortable, why should it be abandoned?" Quite interesting, and a good supplement to the original homeless "blog" by The Homeless Guy.

I did my workout at the gym. Then, I was back in the faculty computer room. Pseudo-professor Ralph called to see if I needed a ride back to Kane'ohe. I gave him the update on my situation. We chatted for a bit. At 6pm, I walked back to the Honolulu Tower. It's strange not having to run for the bus anymore. However, the city life is not something that I enjoy. Downtown becomes quite deserted at night, but it is still extremely noisy. The traffic, the sirens, and so forth are heard throughout the night. Well, I will spend all evening perusing the hurdy-gurdy babes on the Net again. For fun, I may walk over to the Post Office and check my mail.

Not Going Back

This is my first day as a homeless guy. I am fortunate to have a temporary place to stay. Otherwise, my own negligence would have forced to join the homeless in the "tent city" on the West side of O'ahu. I am not comfortable staying in someone else's home. Although Bea went out of her way to provide lavish accommodations for me, I have not taken advantage of them. I sleep on the small futon. I will still take showers at the gym. I did not sleep well last night. I'm not sure why because I was not able to ascertain whether I was experiencing any anxiety or not. This is a troubling symptom. I may be subliminally experiencing stress. This silent form of stress is life-threatening.

Even with the possible manifesting physiological symptoms, I find that I am not moved to take any action to solve my homeless crisis. I may have missed my chance for the Mano'a rental because I did not want to shuttle myself out there at 4:30pm this afternoon. There is another interested party viewing the place today. If that person decides to rent the place, then my opportunity will have been forfeited. I sent e-mail to respond to an ad for a small unit attached to a home in Aina Haina. I would not mind living in that area. It is located close to the beach and also Hawai'i Kai. I sent e-mail to Jim, Pseudo-professor Glenn's realtor. I am still interested in the unit in the Fairway Villa in Waikiki. The only problem is that the rental contract starts on August 1st. I would be completely homeless for three weeks. To complicate matters, I will start working again during the first week of July. Professor Lisa sent e-mail. She's winding down her affairs at Tufts University in Boston. She is due to be back in Hawai'i in August. In my reply, I jokingly asked if she needed a roommate.

Mike, the director of the office which oversees the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, invited me and Sandra, his assistant, to lunch at the Lani'akea Café located at the YWCA. Lunch was excellent. We also enjoyed a pleasant chat. Mike offered to let me stay at his place from July 11th to July 22nd when he is away on a trip. He will also let me use his pass for the parking structure. Certainly a nice first day as a homeless guy. Sheesh!

The rest of the day? Yep, back to the same old routine. I spent most of the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I did my usual workout at the gym. Even though I am staying at the condos across the street, I still pack for the day. I won't return there until after 6pm. My meals will be the same. I'll probably walk over to Safeway® later tonight. I may even watch the tube like a zombie. Sadly, my beloved Nalu Board is in storage.

House Music. The ol' lavahead is still listening to House Music as well as the psychotic classical pieces on public radio. Yesterday, he purchased "Habitat: Beach" from the Kinkysweet® catalog. However, his all-time favorite is still "Afterdark: Chicago," also on Kinkysweet.

Friends. In the past few weeks, I have been privy to exceptional treatment by friends and acquaintances. I bring this up because I really don't deserve it. In the past couple of years, I had become hardened by my daily exposure to rude and callous people. I, myself, became extremely gruff. Sometimes I was just downright cruel. In effect, I became what I despised. Yet, people that I have known over this period of time have really gone out of their way to show kindness to the ol' lavahead, especially in his time of need. I reflected upon this all day. Then, I pondered the vanity of my self-imposed "fender bender" yesterday. The meaning of life has really eluded me.

Farewell Chez Loser

I woke up early this morning to the sound of rain. I was quite perturbed because I still had one more load of crap to move. I did the laundry so that I could pack my sheets and clothes. I also packed the tube, DVD player, and Nalu Board. I loaded as much as I could in the truck, but I left the truck bed pretty much empty because of the rain. I still had half of my crap sitting in the living room in Chez Loser. The rain stopped just before I had to depart. I had no choice but to leave the rest of the stuff. I drove down the Likelike Highway. I got off at the Kalihi Street exit, just as I did yesterday. Kalhi Street takes me right to Nimitz Highway where Hy-Pac. The road was blocked off at one point, so I had to take a nauseating detour along Dillingham Blvd. I did not have my morning coffee, so I was extremely groggy. I dropped off my stuff in my storage unit. I had to make several trips up and down the stairs. All the while, I kept pondering how I was a complete slave to my possessions.

I drove to Kahala Mall to meet moms. Traffic was extremely heavy. When I finally arrived, I decided to try to park in the covered parking section. As I pulled into a spot, I scraped the right fender of my beloved Nissan® Frontier truck. I stepped out to look at the damage. I was furious. Not only did I scrape the paint off, I also put a small dent in the fender. I noticed that I had a couple of missed calls. One was from Pseudo-professor Mike. He said that I could come by anytime, but they wanted to leave for the airport at 5:30pm. Debbie, my realtor, called to tell me that the closing date has been extended for three more days. I could stay in Chez Loser for another three days. She also mentioned that the rental in Discovery Bay was nixed. I was in a complete daze as I made my way to Barnes & Noble®. I bought a large cup of coffee at the café. I walked to the entrance to the mall and waited for moms. I noticed that the coffee had a funny taste, and I was not getting a caffeine buzz. The clown gave me the wrong kind of coffee. I was about ready to go ballistic. Good thing moms showed up. We chatted for a few minutes. Then, we ate lunch at the Panda Express® as usual. After lunch, I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. We stopped off at Koko Marina so that moms could buy a few things at Foodland®.

I brought a few more things to give to moms to use since I did not want to store any more junk. I also brought my rice cooker and my coffee maker. I did not want to store anything that produces something I consume. My storage unit is too dungy. I should mention that I observed a proliferation of industrial strength mouse traps placed every few feet around all of the buildings at Hy-Pac. Later, moms and I then had coffee ice cream for dessert.

I decided to walk to the gym in Koko Marina. Then, I spent a little more time with moms before departing. I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. I wasted some dough on a House music compilation CD. I've been spending a lot of money this week. Incidentally, I neglected to mention that I drove to Safeway® last night. I bought a soggy $5.49 salad for dinner. About six hours earlier, the salad would have been a deal. In its soggy and wilted state, I felt swindled. This is the kind of mediocre shit we must deal with in modern life. No wonder so many people go on homicidal rampages. Sheesh!

I left the mall at 4:45pm. I arrived at the Honolulu Tower (where Bea lives) at 5:15pm. I was completely glazed over from all the driving that I did as well as the "bodywork" I did on my fender. Pseudo-professor Mike was at the entrance to the parking structure. He wanted me to drive up to Bea's parking spot. The parking space is on the seventh floor, and it is worse than the space at Kahala Mall that did the "bodywork" on my truck. It took me five minutes to maneuver into the space. I almost did some "bodywork" on some of the adjacent cars, We went through the maze of elevators to get to Bea's condo. The three of us sat and chatted for a few minutes. Bea gave me the rundown on some of the chores that I would need to do.

We departed at 6pm. Bea had to drop her car off at a relative's place. Pseudo-professor Mike and I followed and picked her up on the way to the airport. I dropped them both off at the airport. While I was driving back to town on the H-1 freeway, I saw the Likelike Highway exit. I decided to make the drive to Kane'ohe to get the rest of my stuff. This was my last drive to Kane'ohe. I pulled into my parking spot at Haiku Point, the home of Chez Loser. I observed that Chubs was not home. I loaded up my stuff, including my beloved surfboard. I left the keys on the counter and locked the door with the keys in the lockbox. I didn't spend any time reflecting about my time at Chez Loser. In fact, I really did not have any feelings at all. Thus, I left Chez Loser without shedding a tear. It's the end of an era, but I am only looking forward to the $133,000 to deposit.

The drive back to town was fatiguing. I was already losing my mind from the "fender-bender." You can imagine how I felt about driving all day. It took me five minutes to finally park the truck in Bea's stall. I had to make two trips to unload my stuff. I sat down and relaxed for the first time in days. I still could feel the anxiety welling up since I am now effectively homeless. I had brought the last of my rice and a can of salmon with me. I cooked some rice in Bea's rice cooker. Then, I ate the salmon with the rice, just like old times. After dinner, I walked across the street to the Uptown Post Office to check my mail. By the way, the Diploma Mill is just two blocks away. For dessert, I ate the rest of the Nabisco® Teddy Bear Grahams that I had bought at Safeway® the other night. Moms used to buy these for me. I really like them, even though they are made with partially hydrogenated lard (read: trans fat).

Alas, I must bid a token farewell to Chez Loser. Will I miss the place? Not really. I'm still not all that excited about finding another mausoleum to live in. Mausoleum? Live in? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Really, I'm just too fatigued to think about it. The self-inflicted "fender bender" also faded into distant memory. At first, I thought that the sinister kahuna was at it again, toying with the oversized cranium. However, in retrospect, I believe that other forces are at play. I was becoming too obsessed with my possessions. I needed someone or something to break the spell. The truck is the most expensive thing that I own now. Yet, it is really nothing. I derive no meaning from it. It is not a "chick magnet." In other words, it is useless. Just like everything else. How do I know? Heck, I'm the Keeper. The Keeper of Lost Lives.

The Keeper of Lost Lives. As you may recall, the moniker, "Keeper of Lost Lives," was given to the ol' lavahead by the editorial staff of the now-defunct magazine, Internet Underground. The magazine was a very nice, high quality national publication. I was living in Convalescent City then. One day, I checked the magazine rack at Barnes & Noble®, and there it was. A couple of my homeys were coincidentally standing around and reading a few magazines. I showed the article about the ol' lavahead to them. That's one of my many 15 seconds of fame.

Mañana por la Mañana

So far, the weekend has been exasperating more than anything else. The bus was 30 minutes late yesterday afternoon. When I finally returned to Chez Loser, I was glad to see that the Salvation Army truck had picked up the former friend's futon and the other stuff. After dinner, I drove to Longs® to buy a box of trash bags. I spent the evening in front of the tube. Then, I slept on the floor, which really was not much harder than the futon.

I woke up early this morning, mainly because of the increasing number of anxiety attacks that I have experiencing. I perused my pathetic sleeping conditions. I had put a sheet down on the carpet along with my pillows. I had pulled part of the sheet over me to serve as a blanket. I continued to pack away my useless possessions. Rather than divest some of the crap, I simply stuffed them into my new gym bags to be dealt with later. Out of sight, out of mind. I dropped back the last two bottles of Gordon Biersch® brewskis, mainly because I had been using a pair of pliers for a bottle opener. I wanted to pack my tools away to take to my storage unit. After piddling around for another hour, I finally departed at 11am with my truck stuffed full of my useless shit. While I was piddling around, I had a moronic debate with myself about whether I should take my tube, DVD player, surfboard, and Nalu Board to the storage unit. I decided to defer the decision until tomorrow.

I arrived at the Hy-Pac storage facility at noon. Unlike the upscale storage facilities, Hy-Pac does not have air-conditioning. I had to make several trips up the stairs to unload all my shit into my storage unit. I was ready for a few more brewskis. It really became apparent to me how useless all of my possessions are when I was dumping them into the dungy storage unit. I wrapped my new gym bags (and a few of the other items) in the trash bags that I had purchased last night. Why am I so worried about this junk? What is even more mind boggling is the fact that there are hundreds of these storage units in several warehouse buildings, each one stuffed with useless shit.

I drove to town and parked in the parking structure. For $3, I was able to park for the whole afternoon. Wheeee! I ended up in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I composed my "blog" entry, but Blogger apparently disappeared for about 20 minutes. Naturally, I lost most of my work. The sinister kahuna has obviously been toying with the oversized cranium all week. Mr. Ray sent e-mail. He provided me with an interesting perspective on useless possessions. I actually felt much better knowing that someone else shares a similar plight.

While I was at the gym, I kept pondering the so-called "dichotomy" that I discussed previously. I've also thought about where I'd like to live in Honolulu. No one place stood out, although either downtown or Waikiki seem to be best bets. At that point, my mind was ready to snap. I just want to be done with this crap already. The real irony is that I am living like a homeless guy in an expensive townhouse. If I rent a place, I will continue to live like a homeless guy. It just doesn't make sense. When I parted with the former friend's futon, I essentially severed my last tie with "normal" life. I will never own furniture again. What's the sense of owning or renting a place if there's no furniture?

After my brief cardio workout, I took a shower in the dungy locker room. The place is completely filthy. The cheapskates have also started watering down the soap. The showers have low-flow heads which barely produce a trickle. The "No Cameraphones" signs are still posted on the mirrors. I have not seen this at any other branch. As you may recall from the now-defunct MySpace "blog," the clowns in the shower were always looking around. That's when it dawned upon me. I mean, why would guys be taking pictures in the guy's locker room? As I was showering, I realized that I had packed away all my eating utensils. They are now in the storage unit. I had planned to have salmon and rice for dinner, but I cannot even open the damned can. What a maroon!

I decided to stop off at Taco Bell®. I ordered two bean burritos with the green sauce. No red sauce. What a feast for a homeless guy! I almost ruined my appetite by thinking about my pathetic situation again. Come to think of it, I've been feeling really shitty lately. I am worried that the stress has manifested psychosomatically.

I spent a little more time in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. Well, hey! I had to finish the "blog"! This is my last night in Chez Loser and Kane'ohe. I deliberately did not take the tube to storage, just in case I wanted to vegetate in front of it for old times' sake. My Nalu Board is still sitting in the living room for one last ride. Tomorrow, I will officially be homeless. Mañana por la Mañana.

Summer Funk

I woke up early this morning and made a pot of coffee. I piddled around doing absolutely nothing while I waited for the Salvation Army truck to pick up my donations. At 10:30am, I decided to put everything out on the lanai. I moved the former friend's futon into the dining room. The frame is made out of solid wood, so it is extremely heavy. I opened the glass patio door and laid carpet scraps on the floor as well out in the lanai. I hit my head against the frame of the futon. A large bump appeared. I used one of the cold bottles of Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis to attempt to prevent any further swelling. After I put all of the donations outside, I departed for town on the bus. I ended up at the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill.

Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail. He's still trying to sell the house. Although home prices are still increasing here, sales have slowed down. Rob is probably better off staying in the house, even though it is falling apart. I believe that he would end up depleting his savings in a few years if he had to rent a place. Rob also mentioned that Kevin, my former backstabbing buddy at the Asylum, has moved to Boston. Kevin is allegedly entering a doctorate program at some university there. Most likely, Kevin's father is footing the entire bill. That was the plan when he told me about it about a year ago. I don't envy him. If and when he graduates, he will be in his fifties. He's better off waiting until he gets his inheritance, which should be in the millions.

Yesterday, Lori said that I have sprouted a lot more gray hair. Well, I am in my fifties after all. I am a decrepit old fool. The gray hair seems more pronounced as my hair grows out. That's why I had to restore my monk haircut. Lori's observation is correct, though. She also seems to think that the stress I've put myself through during the sale of Chez Loser is the real culprit. The prospect of becoming homeless has significantly increased my anxiety, but not enough for me to take action.

Freedom is still the issue here. As I've said before, I am at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. Let's look further at his situation now, shall we? My inaction insofar as my housing situation is concerned stems from several factors. One factor is phone phobia. Another factor is my disdain for slumlords. However, the most important factor is the dichotomy that exists in my thinking. On the one hand, I want a decent place to live that is in a good location. A decent place is one that does not require me to spray the whole place down daily to kill lice, etc. Lori brought that up yesterday. A good location is one that does not have me stuck due to time and bus route constraints. I'll only end up wasting my life in front of the tube as I have for the past year. Now, on the other hand, I don't want to spend a significant amount of dough on rent. I no longer have any furniture. I won't buy any new furniture ever again. Thus, I don't need an extremely expensive, albeit nice, place to live. The rooms are going to be completely empty. I also need money for food. I plan to eat a much better diet. And, I need health insurance. The bottom line, of course, is that nothing I have mentioned so far has anything to do with freedom. Quite the opposite actually. Hence, the dichotomy.

Incongruence is the result of this dreadful dichotomy. Incongruence is also a stepping stone to insanity. I envision a mendicant life-style that pleases me in a location that is somewhat isolated. Perhaps I could live in a shack near the coast somewhere in Costa Rica. The cost of living is cheap, so I won't have to worry about wage slavery. However, I would have nothing to do. Well, I could do a lot of surfing, I suppose. I won't have the gym, or all of my other favorite places to hang out. What will I do? Incongruence, my friends.

Therefore, I have become a "solitary wanderer," as Anonder claims to be. I do not believe that being a "solitary wanderer" is a natural state for humans. Our lives are essentially meaningless without human interaction. Without spending idle time with family and friends, it's simply idle time alone. We, however, live in troubled times. The melding of technology and consumerism has produced a culture rich in greed, poor etiquette, and numerous other blasphemies which alienates the individual. This phenomenon increases with age, primarily because of age discrimination. As I've stated ad infinitum, material possessions can give no meaning to our lives. Meaning can only be derived spiritually. Each of us has a "spirit" or "life force" within us. I believe that part of our purpose in life is to interact with other "spirits." For some of us, the degeneration of society into a collective of moronic cattle has led to our self-imposed isolation. Furthermore, competition for scarce resources has pitted fool against fool, asswipe against asswipe, such that any sense of community has vanished. The common bond, the love and respect that we should have for each other, no longer exists. That is why some of us have become monks, as it were.

Sadly, I do not believe that I will find true meaning to my life as a monk and solitary wanderer. The life of one mind is not healthy. Obviously, I could do more reading to increase the scope of thought. However, the actual interaction is missing. Were there any real quality interaction available, then this treatise would be moot. Until then, I must continue my journey in solitude.

The rest of the day? Gym. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board. Oh, I should continue packing. I will be bringing most of my remaining useless possessions to my storage unit tomorrow. I will also have to do the final cleaning of Chez Loser. Two more days to go. Then, I'm homeless.

Blame It on the Moon

I woke up in a state of panic this morning. When I calmed down, I realized that I did not have any coffee to brew. What a way to start the day! I pondered my situation. I've been trying to figure out why I cannot seem to divest anything. Each time I put something in the donation bag, I find that I remove it within a few minutes. Why can't I part with the crap? As it stands, the total volume of my remaining possessions will easily fill the truck. I may even have to make two trips to the storage unit. Here's a classic example. I have a pair of new Dockers® slacks and a fairly new pair of Rockport® shoes. I have had no need for either since my forced departure from the Asylum. So, why do I keep the crap? Aside from the fact that I cannot afford to replace them, I really don't have an answer.

I am now contemplating the idea of putting the Vienna Sausage on a permanent moratorium. In other words, I need to force the Vienna Sausage into early retirement. That way, I can rid myself of my massive hurdy-gurdy DVD library. I can also rid myself of my widescreen LCD tube and my DVD player. Since the babe situation is effectively moot, I really cannot see why I must placate the Vienna Sausage any further. If left to its own devices, the Vienna Sausage may become impotent. Then, I will have made another crucial step toward freedom.

Lori sent an e-mail with a lead for a rental in Manoa. I contacted the property manager by e-mail. The unit is a one-bedroom apartment in the Manoa area. Lori called when she arrived in town at 12:15pm. We walked to Chinatown to see if we could find a place that sold glass teapots. Nada. We ate lunch at the Mediterranean Café. The gyros are so good there. Lori mentioned that I had more gray hair since the last time. She attributed the latter to stress, given my current predicament. After we parted company, I restored my monk haircut at the the Hawai'i Institute of Hair Design. The rest of the day? Gym. Salmon and rice for dinner. Since I no longer have a microwave oven, I must prepare rice daily. I must put the frozen vegetables in the rice cooker to heat it. Just writing about this pathetic life-style makes me want to reach for the bottle. Yep, I'll be droppin' back a few more Gordon Biersch® Marzen breswkis. Then, I sit in front of the tube. I may take a few Nalu Board surf breaks as well.

The real adventure is about to begin. I have three days left in Chez Loser. Then, it's adios to Chez Loser and Kane'ohe.

Fragile Mental State

I woke up early this morning in state of high anxiety. I have four days left in Chez Loser. Then, I am homeless. I have made no effort to find a place. After my morning coffee, I decided to drop back a few Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis. I was feeling shitty in no time. I had called moms earlier to make tentative plans to visit. I drove to Hawai'i Kai at 11:20am. Moms arrived at the same time that I did. I unloaded the stuff. Moms made a nice lunch. We chatted for a bit. I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. I should also mention that I made my first utility assessment. My Sharp® microwave oven is history. Moms will give it to one of her friends.

I stopped off at Kahala Mall. I treated myself to a delicious Jamba Juice® smoothie. Then, I spent about an hour in Barnes & Noble®. After that, I drove to town. Traffic was heavy. I am able to park in the parking structure at a reduced rate after 5pm. As you can guess, I spent a little bit of time in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike had called and left a message. He invited me to dinner at Bea's place. I was still full from lunch, but I told him that I would drop by anyway.

I walked over to Bea's place at 6pm. I chatted with Pseudo-professor Mike until Bea returned at 6:30pm. They both persuaded me to stay for dinner. The meal was delicious. I was comforted in knowing that I will be house-sitting for the next three weeks. I should also be able to park the truck in the parking structure. That will buy me some time.

This was a psychologically grueling day for me. Actually, the last two weeks have been pretty bad. I feel as though I am on the verge of losing my mind. Nothing is making sense to me. It's not just the fact that I will be homeless in four days. I am just not understanding why I must spend so much dough just to live a "socially acceptable" life-style. There is so much "incongruence" that I am unable to fathom it much longer. My mind is going to snap.

Freedom (Reprise)

Last night, I ended up driving to Safeway® specifically to purchase a 12-pack of Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis. I dropped back a couple of bottles to calm my nerves. What else can I do while I sit like a zombie in front of the tube?

I left for town on the bus at 9am. I have been feeling more and more lethargic as the day of impending homelessness rapidly approaches. I spent about an hour editing the "blog," if you can believe it. Then, I called up Hy-Pac, the storage company, again. There were a few small units available. So, I finally mustered up enough energy to ride the bus out there. The dump is located on Nimitz Highway just before the Sand Island Access Road intersection. I was in the area last when I had to order the new carpet for Chez Loser. The bus ride was not as bad as I had expected. Normally, the airport route is packed with fools. The staff at Hy-Pac was not particularly friendly. The storage units are cheap because they are dungy. I paid $68 for a larger unit. Fortunately, I brought the coupon for a free lock. A cheap $2 lock did little to placate the oversized cranium. The ride back to town on the bus was pleasant. A whole group of homeless people boarded at the bus stop near K-Mart®. The IHS shelter is right next door. As we passed the IHS, there were about 50 people laying on the grass outside.

The homeless stand out from the crowd. It has nothing to do with the fact that they are carrying all of their worldly possessions with them. Even in a bus full of non-homeless derelicts, the homeless stand out. Their clothes are different. The styles are usually several decades old. The colors are no longer in vogue. Even when well-groomed or clean-shaven, the homeless are conspicuous. Their skin is weather-worn and damaged. Wrinkles are clearly over-exaggerated, much of it from the hard life outdoors. I suspect that cheap booze and drugs are the other contributing factors.

I felt slightly relieved that the storage dilemma is over. I was saved in the eleventh hour again. The fact that I am paying big money to store my useless possessions is extremely irritating. When am I going to learn that the crap needs to go? It's a done deal now, but the issue will come up again. Next on my agenda is the search for a new mausoleum. Pseudo-professor Glenn gave me a lead on rentals at 100 Walina Street in Waikiki. Sandra, who works for the office overseeing the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, told me that there is an apartment for rent in the complex she resides in. Sandra and Joe, her husband, bought a small place there last year. In fact, Debbie is their realtor. Debbie sent e-mail stating that one of her clients is willing to rent a unit at Discovery Bay in Waikiki. The place is quite upscale, so I doubt that I can afford to live there.

I did nothing out of the ordinary for the rest of the afternoon. In other words, I did not spend any time looking for housing or following up on the leads given to me. So, the day was a wash. So, what will I be doing? Oh, you know. Gym. Piddle around on the computer in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Express bus back to Kane'ohe. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Drop back a few Gordon Biersch® brewskis. Nalu Board.

The Prison. While working out at the gym, I reflected on the prison that I have made for myself. The word, "prison," may be inappropriate, although I have established a number of constraints upon myself. The gym is a case in point. I now go to the gym every day. This was precipitated by the fact that I have to take my showers at the gym. Showers notwithstanding, my daily regimen at the gym has been continuous for 20-plus years. My belief in the health benefits of working out precludes any kind of absenteeism. I rarely will deviate from the regimen. Living healthy (with the exception of the Holy Water consumption) constrains me from eating crappy food. My diet is quite bland and limited.

The journal and now the "blog" have also locked me into another regimen. The Vienna Sausage has also constrained my life. You've seen the ads on the tube. "Over half the men over 40 suffer from Erectile Dysfunction (ED) ..." Well, unfortunately, the ol' lavahead is not one of them. His Vienna Sausage is working fine. Because of that, the ol' lavahead must maintain his vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library. And, obviously, he must have the tube and DVD player to view his library. If the Vienna Sausage had stopped working ten years ago, he would not need that crap.

Can freedom ever be realized? I'm beginning to think not. The human condition does not allow for it. In one form or another, we are locked in a prison. Even the mind is a prison. The weak and imperfect body is a prison. A decaying prison that locks us in debilitating spiral to the end. Have you noticed that, when you free yourself from one prison, then you are imprisoned in another? It's probably time for me lighten up on the issue of being imprisoned or enslaved. Both are a part of the human life cycle. Nothing can change that.

Mausoleum

I left for town at 9am on the bus. I first stopped off at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Glenn arrived right after me. We chatted for a bit. Then, he gave me a list of possible places to look for rental housing. I walked to Bank Of Hawai'i and made my last mortgage payment. I also dropped off more escrow paperwork at Old Republic Title.

Lori called to let me know that she had to cancel our surfing plans on Thursday. We'll most likely meet on Friday for lunch instead. Not a problem. There will be plenty of time for surfing. I also gave her a short rundown of my current housing dilemma. The rest of the day was the usual routine. Gym. Chez Loser. Canned salmon and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.

In my fragile mental state, I've become more helpless and quite frozen in inaction. The only proactive move that I've made is to query friends and acquaintances about possible leads to rentals. There has been much more sympathy than I expected, although that was not my motivation. Lori has offered me a place to stay for a little while, if I need it. The director overseeing the faculty computer room has offered to let me use his parking pass to the parking structure while he is gone for a week or so.

I have made no effort to end my housing dilemma. I have yet to call any of the listings in the paper. Part of it is because of my chronic phone phobia. The real annoyance is that I know how I will treated like a beggar by these slumlords. The only real progress that I've made so far is the implementation of the utility scale in assessing my possessions for divestiture. It's all quite insane.

I would assume that, if I had a stronger personal definition of what a "home" should be, then I would have quickly snapped into action to find a place. What exactly is a home? Ever since I was homeless, that question has stuck in my mind. For the most part, all I see people are people watching the tube. That's all I do in my home. So, what's the difference between a home and a mausoleum? The tube is essentially embalming fluid for the mind.

Just as I was starting to think about the viability of "camping," I found an article in the paper about the pandemic homeless crisis on O'ahu. "Hundreds of campsites dominate the view across beaches from Nanakuli to Kea'au, in effect turning the 16-mile coastline into the "tent city" residents wanted to avoid ..." We are going to experience a scaled-down version of the Hoover years. Incidentally, rents have not come down. As a matter of fact, rents are increasing as we speak. Home prices are also increasing, which means that the housing market in Hawai'i is picking up again. Who knew?

Kamehameha Day 2006

I woke up early this morning with no idea what I was going to do for the day. Because of the holiday, the Diploma Mill was closed. Fortunately, moms called to arrange for us to meet for lunch at Kahala Mall. I decided to drive to town, so I departed at 10am. I met moms at our usual meeting spot on the benches just at the entrance to the mall. We chatted for a bit. Then, we ate lunch at Panda Express®. After lunch, we sat outside on the benches again and chatted. I gave moms a ride home. I stopped in to say hello to my bro and his family. They were busy cleaning up the "warehouse." They were also not too friendly. No surprise. So, I left.

I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. Later, I drove to Kahala Mall. I really didn't have anything to do there. The mall was completely packed. I was amazed to see so many people out buying all kinds of stuff. Where are they getting the dough? I bought a Jamba Juice® smoothie. That was the extent of my spending spree. I spent about an hour at Barnes & Noble®, which was quite enjoyable. Then, I returned to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.

Incidentally, Lori called this morning. She wants to go surfing on Thursday. So, tentatively, we are planning to hit the beach. If that doesn't pan out, then we will probably just have lunch at The Shack. I'm not sure if I can handle surfing anymore, what with my advanced decrepitude and all. Not that I was any good to begin with. Sheesh!

Needless to say, my anxiety is increasing exponentially by the day. I have done absolutely nothing about finding a place to live. I have not secured a storage unit for my crap either. I just don't feel like calling all of those slumlords and begging for a place to live. I am rapidly approaching the eleventh hour.

Economically Disenfranchised

When I returned to Chez Loser yesterday, all was quiet. I was able to enjoy my sumptuous meal consisting of canned tuna and rice. Debbie, my realtor, called and left a message about a new listing in Punaho'u Gardens. After that, I vegetated all evening in front of the tube.

I woke up early this morning. I had nothing to do, as usual. I could have done more packing, but I just didn't feel like it. At 10:30am, I decided to drop back the last two bottles of Red Hook® India Pale Ale. I departed for town at 11:10am. My bladder was about ready to explode when I arrived in town on the bus. Fortunately, the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill was already open. I was able to "drain the lizard" before composing the "blog."

I have done nothing about my housing crisis. Instead, I just continue to procrastinate, all the while hoping that I will be saved in the eleventh hour. The thought of ending up in another tomb (read: mausoleum) just sickens me. If I don't nip this kind of thinking in the bud soon, the spiral downward into eternal dereliction will start here.

I read this tidbit in the paper this morning: "The Federal Reserve's latest Survey of Consumer Finance puts the average, or mean, net worth of Americans at $448,200, including both Bill Gates and the panhandler in Seattle. The median net worth -- the assets minus debts of the family smack in the middle of the highest-to-lowest list -- was $93,100 in 2004." Roughly half of the US population (about 148 million people) have a net worth less than or equal to the median value. The goals of the money changers have been met. The middle class has been divided into the "haves" and the have-nots." As always, I'm on the outside looking in. I'm part of the growing number of the "economically disenfranchised." That the "politically correct" way of saying that I am a "po' boy." Frankly, I am sick and tired of the "politically correct" movement. It's about as useless as the "self-esteem" movement.

By two o' clock, I felt really shitty. The pain in my gut is probably the result of my liver giving out. Nonetheless, I went to the gym. I did my usual cardio workout. I still felt nauseous after the gym. I spent some more time in the student computer lab. I mummified the idea about stopping by Punaho'u Gardens. I cannot afford any of these places. I'm economically disenfranchised.

The rest of the day? You know the drill. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Safeway®. Nalu Board. Sheesh!

Handful of Dust

When I returned to Chez Loser last night, I had just a few minutes of silence. Chubs had apparently invited either family or friends to stay with her. From what I could tell, there were two adolescents (a guy and a babe) and at least one kid. From 8:30pm on, there was a continuous stompfest and a slammin' soirée complete with yelling and arguments. The stupid kid was running back and forth non-stop. White shit was raining from the ceiling. I finally called 9-1-1 at 11:30pm. When the cops arrived, the fools had already settled down. The stupid part is that Chubs was not home throughout this whole ordeal.

I spent most of the night packing my clothes into my new gym bags. I had to drop back a few Red Hook® India Pale Ale brewskis to calm my nerves. I also drove to Safeway® to purchase another loaf of bread and some Ruffles® potato chips. When I returned to Chez Loser, I ate the greasy chips as I dropped back more brewskis. I also watched, "Along Came Polly," on the tube. You may recall that I had seen the movie in the theater with the former friend three years ago.

I got up early this morning, as usual. I made a pot of coffee. I decided to depart for town at 8am on the bus, well before the losers upstairs woke up. I reflected on the fact that I must always live my life at the convenience of others. Since the majority of cattle are rude and self-absorbed, I must always heed to their feigned self-importance. Even on the bus, I am exposed to sheer human stupidity and thoughtlessness. What is more baffling is that I am one of the few people who choose to ride the bus. I see the deep resentment in people's face as they are forced to ride the bus because they are either too old, too young, or too poor to drive a car. I see the resentment in the graffiti and other defacement, all of which are the result of entitlement thinking.

The ride to town on the bus is otherwise enjoyable. The view of the Ko'olaus is breathtaking. As the bus ascends the Pali Highway, we are treated to spectacular views of Kane'ohe and Kailua. During the descent to town, the untouched tropical forests near the Pali summit are a sight for sore eyes. This is the real Hawai'i.

This morning, I extended my ruminations on my impending poverty, as it were. Last night, I had read an article in the AARP® magazine in which the author stated that, on the average, a person will need $425,000 devoted just to supplement medical expenses. That does not include personal expenses. It has been my belief that the current healthcare system will collapse. We have increasing obese population, of which excess weight has been tied to many chronic illnesses. Thus, we will have a huge population of chronically ill people who will live longer in long-term healthcare facilities (if there are any available).

As for my own impending poverty, I need to clarify. I am afraid of self-imposed impoverishment, something that could be a natural extension after an analysis of my situation. Why do I need to pay so much dough just for a nice place to sleep and to vegetate in front of the tube? Soon, I'll find myself downgrading my living accommodations. Then, I'll question why I will need to continue in wage slavery. Eventually, it will spiral downward until I find myself homeless and destitute. Mind you, I will most likely have the same amount of money in investments, if not more. However, there will be no need to spend that money uselessly just to indulge my sense of comfort. A high level of comfort simply increase the level of boredom. That's one premise of Viktor Frankl's concept of the "existential vacuum."

Naturally, this internal discussion led to the topic of renting versus purchasing a place to live. At this point in time, I am more inclined to rent a place. However, renting is what will begin the downward spiral to poverty and despair. The desire to own (read: indenture oneself to wage slavery and to the bank) stems from the need for validation in a materialistic world. Renting is what second-class citizens do, we are told. Frankly, I'm tired of it. I am a second-class citizen. I might even be a third-class citizen. Sheesh! Intrusive thoughts continuously fill the oversized cranium. Why do I need a kitchen? I don't cook anymore. Why do I need a nice bathroom? I take showers at the gym. Why do I need more than one room? I have divested all my furniture. My new bed will be a sleeping bag. On and on it goes. In my mind, I've already reduced myself to a homeless derelict.

I am fortunate that I did sell Chez Loser before I lost my mind. Remember what happened to Caroll and Robert. Both of them lapsed into chronic depression as the prospect of losing their places became imminent. They held on to the bitter end, but it cost them seven years of hell in bankruptcy. I knew that my precarious employment situation wasn't going to improve. In fact, I still predict that I may be fully unemployed next year. I could have held on even then, provided that I allow my savings to deplete. Unlike Robert and Caroll, I kept my fragile mental state intact long enough to sell Chez Loser. Now, I am frozen in inaction, although the financial ramifications will be minimal. I have done nothing to seek out a rental unit. I haven't even secured a storage unit. And, I still have no idea where I am going to park the truck.

Incidentally, I was given the estimated HUD statement yesterday. I will be receiving $5,000 less than I had anticipated from the sale of Chez Loser. There were so many other fees. Given this fact, I quickly came to realize that I have no inclination to purchase another piece of property. Buying and selling costs are at least 10 percent of the price of the property. The good news is that I will receive full payment right after closing (June 20th).

As always, these ruminations come full circle. What is my purpose in life? Without purpose, there is no meaning. Yes, semantics is at play. However, those words do have some kind of intrinsic definition for each of us. As I've come to abhor materialism, I also despise shopping. I don't particularly care for the tube, although I know that I'm gradually becoming enslaved to it. What exactly is there to do in my spare time? For most people, shopping, watching the tube, and sleeping are the top three activities aside from wage slavery. There has got to be more to life than that. Anonder sought to be a solitary wandering holy man. Therefore, he travels abroad and spend extended periods of time camping in the wilderness. I have taken the small step of being a solitary wanderer in a city of fools. Well, hey! I'm livin' large in small way!

I arrived in town before 9am. The faculty computer room was open today because of a seminar. Thus I was able to spend time there instead of the student computer lab. I was also able to get a free breakfast. I should have been doing work, but I opted to compose the "blog." If I was an unemployed homeless guy, that's all I would do day in and day out. During the lunch break, I was able to chat with Pseudo-professor Bill and Professor Dan. They were participating in the seminar. Subway® sandwiches were being served. I was able to partake as well. Later, I went to the gym to do my cardio workout that I skipped yesterday. I spent the rest of the afternoon in the student computer lab. There's nothing for me at Chez Loser, just the depressing task of packing up my stuff. That's what I'll be doing for the evening again. only nine more days before I am homeless.

Useless Possessions. Packing up my useful and useless shit has been inspirational to some degree. It certainly made me question the meaning of "useful" and "useless," at least in terms of material things. By and large, I found that I overestimated my needs and purchased on gym bag too many. I could use it for its intended purpose since my old gym bag is decrepit. If you know the ol' lavahead, then you know he'll be using the old gym bag for at least two more years. My possessions all have varying degrees of utility. How I measure utility has now become somewhat dynamic. Two years ago, my Apple® iBook had maximum utility. Now, I no longer have a computer. I often think of replacing it, but there has really been no strong incentive to do so. This is most likely how I must review each of my bulky possessions. If the shit were to break, could I get by without it? In most cases, the answer is, "Yes." We buy convenience in the form of some kind of technological appliance. Then, we become enslaved to the appliance because we "cannot live without it." The trade-off is that we must store and transport the appliance, hence further enslaving us.

The is an identity value associated with our possessions. Babes (read: chicks) often refer to guys with reference to their possessions. We often hear, "Oh, he's the guy who drives the black Porche." Of course, there's hardly any reference to worthless possessions. Seldom do we hear, "Oh, he's the guy who drives that piece of shit," unless the latter is a condescending remark. We are stripped naked without our possessions. How many people are willing to pare down their worldly shit to 12 pounds of stuff in a backpack?

There is also some kind of attachment value associated with our belongings. For some reason, humans seem to form a bond with their possessions. This bond tend to be very strong and is not always a function of the monetary worth of the possession. "... don't let yourself get attached to anything you are not willing to walk out on in 30 seconds flat if you feel the heat around the corner," is a quote from the De Niro movie, "Heat." I've mentioned it before in the journal. Certainly this is the best criterion by which to judge the disposition of any of our possessions. And, obviously, it is the most prudent choice when freedom is the goal.

Midnight Rendezvous

Wow! I still cannot believe that a bevy of young hotties were congregating around the Pali Longs®. They were smiling and waving at everyone. It makes sense, I suppose. The Pali Longs® is open 24 hours a day. Why not make it a full one-stop shopping experience, eh?

Back to reality. This morning, I started packing some of my clothes in the gym bags that I had purchased at Ross®. I still cannot believe the sheer amount of crap that I will be moving, the bulk of which would fill the entire rear bed of my truck. Here is what I have left by category:

• Kitchenware
  • Microwave oven
  • Coffee maker
  • Rice cooker
  • Utensils
• Entertainment
  • Tube
  • DVD player
  • Hurdy-gurdy DVD library
• Personal Effects
  • Clothes
  • Surfboard
  • Nalu Board
  • Miscellaneous crap

Why do I need all of this crap? Anonder claims to have reduced all of his belongings to easily fit in a backpack. Modern life has created an extreme burden upon us all in a materialistic sense.

I continued the tedious task of changing my mailing address of my various accounts. What a pain in the ass! Some firms do not accept PO boxes. Later, I walked over to the downtown office of Old Republic Title to sign the closing paperwork. Debbie, my realtor, ran a little late. I was done with the signing before she arrived. We looked at a unit in town and also another one at 441 Lewers Street in Waikiki. Debbie also mentioned that she may know of a short-term rental at the Discovery Bay in Waikiki. Debbie dropped me off back in town at 3:45pm. I only had enough time to do a short workout at the gym.

Well, the weekend is upon us once again. Time is flying by. I now have ten days left before I am homeless. I am becoming more oblivious to that fact as the days go on. I am very apprehensive about purchasing another place. However, I am also worried that I am going to eventually succumb to dereliction. Without any real incentive to continue in wage slavery, I could just spiral downward into deeper poverty. Or, perhaps I should sashay down to the Pali Longs® for a midnight rendezvous.

A Nice Day

I left for Hawaii Kai at 10:30am. I drove along the coast through Kailua and Waimanalo. The ocean was flat, but what a fantastic view of the real Hawai'i it was. I stopped off at Ross® in the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. The store was completely crowded. People were hysterically buying everything in sight. I purchased two large gym bags. The total cost was $27 and some change. I will be packing all of my worldly possessions in those bags. Later, I joined moms for lunch. We ate hot dogs. I sat and chatted with moms until 2pm.

I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. After that, I ended up in Kahala Mall. I spent time at Tower Records® and Barnes & Noble®. I was so enjoying the nice, stress-free moment that I really didn't want to leave. Alas, all good things must come to an end. However, I had to meet up with Pseudo-professor Mike and Bea in town. They had invited me to dinner.

The drive to town was better than usual. No dickheads on the road for once. I parked in the parking structure. I briefly dropped in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill to check my e-mail. Pseudo-professor Glenn's real estate agent sent e-mail about a possible rental opening in Waikiki on August 1st. After that, I walked to the Honolulu Tower where Bea lives. Pseudo-professor Mike and Bea cooked a very nice dinner. I sat and chatted with them until 8:30pm.

As I walked back to the parking structure, I observed a number of young hotties milling around the street near the Pali Longs®. They were all dressed in hot hootchie momma outfits. Oh baby! I realized that the hotties were "on duty," so to speak. Man, they were so hot that I may consider hiring them myself. Just Kidding! Then, I made the drive back to Kane'ohe over the Likelike Highway. I spent what was left of the evening in front of the tube.

Who Let the Dogs Out?

I woke up early this morning. I departed for town at 9am with my condo deed and my property tax statement. I dropped my stuff off at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I walked to the Post Office. I was finally able to secure a PO Box after my street address was confirmed. How the heck do the homeless obtain PO Boxes? I spent an hour back in the faculty computer room changing my address for all my on-line accounts. This is a tedious process.

Professor Dan dropped by with his real estate agent to chat while I was piddling around. He's thinking about buying a unit in Kukui Plaza. He's actually living there right now in a rental. He invited me to lunch. We walked to the Uptown Café right around the corner. We had an interesting chat. He's in his forties and single. Never been married. No kids. During the course of the conversation, he mentioned that old married guys were hitting on him. I found this quite odd. In fact, a red flag shot up and was tugging at my senses all day. He expressed some dismay about the lack of honesty and integrity of the old married guys. However, he never expressed any kind of typical homophobic reaction. I told Pseudo-professor Bill about the conversation later in the afternoon. He seemed to concur with my conclusion.

I walked over to Kukui Plaza with Professor Dan. I perused the bulletin boards for rentals. Sure enough, there were at least three of them. I jotted down the information. Professor Dan asked if I wanted to see his apartment. I declined because it was already gym time. However, I'll probably check it out on Friday, even though I am now a little wary of Professor Dan's "orientation."

The rest of the day was mundane. You know the drill. I won't go into any detail because the lousy Windows® computer in the faculty computer room fried my USB® flash drive. I've lost everything on the drive. I may have to procure a Palm® TX handheld computer after all.

Windows® Shit. The piece of shit Windows® computer in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill caused me to lose all of my data on my USB® flash drive, including the full archive of the "blog." So, I will no longer archive the "blog." If this site goes down, the "blog" is history. What happened is simple, and it happens all the time with Windows® XP. Plug the USB® drive into a USB® port. Windows® claims that it does not recognize the device. Hence, the device cannot be "stopped." Pulling out the active device may or may not cause data loss. However, count on data loss as the default.