Did I want to ride the bus to Ala Moana Center this morning? Did I want to sit in the filthy restroom stall along with a bunch of belching, flatulence-creating, and schizophrenic clowns? Did I want to sit in the
Makai Market for an hour with my cup of coffee from Foodland? Did I want to watch the parade of early shoppers flitting about? Did I want to go to the gym at 10:20am and catch a microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer? Did I want to finish my workout early and end up back at Ala Moana Center by 1pm? Did I want to sit on a wooden bench by the Sears® automotive center and inhale the fumes of old rubber tires? Did I want to ride the bus back to Slab Manor (read: rental housing) and arrive at the dump at 3pm? Did I want to sit in my squalid room for the rest of the afternoon in a dismal state? Is Joseph a
putz?
I drove my Nissan® Frontier truck, my urban security vehicle, to Kahala Mall at 8am. The senior citizen exercise class was conspicuously absent. No doubt, most people, senior citizens included, were sitting in the pews of organized religious churches of the Yahweh Triad (i.e., Judaism, Pauline-Christianity, and Islam). In fact, both the Iraqi guy and his limerant object departed Slob Manor at 7am, no doubt to attend Islamic services at an undisclosed mosque. Obviously, religion does not seem to teach people much in the way of anything. "Sin" and repent. "Sin" and repent. Same ol' shit.
The restrooms are much nicer at Kahala Mall. Very clean. No derelicts belching, creating flatulence, or talking to themselves. Urine and other unidentifiable substances are not splattered all over the stall. Since the mall is enclosed, I can sit on the wooden benches with little concern that a random clown will light up a cigarette in my immediate vicinity. And, sipping coffee in the Barnes & Noble®
Café is a very relatively relaxing experience when the store first opens. For now, it is the only safe place that I can transport and use my meager Acer® Aspire One netbook computer.
The petty thief, such as the one that preyed on the ol' lavahead, is seldom interested in much more than the looted cash. He may keep and use the shiny objects that were incidental acquisitions as a result of the theft. Money,
dinero, mullah, reigns supreme, however. The thief would rather have the money to acquire his own new shiny objects to raise his pathetic standard of living. However, he wants his hands to be first to touch the shiny object after it has passed through one of the various ports in the People's Republic of China. Oh, the beauty and triumph of the "ownership" experience!
I experienced an extreme bout of derealization yesterday, a side effect of having a forced intrusion into one's life. The violation of my person made me realize that, even though I am fairly mendicant, I still have too much invested in the "system" that I so despise. During the course of the whole day, I was constantly reminded that I was helpless without the "system." The Slob Manor front door key is an example of the latter. Empowering myself to make a copy of the key myself led me on a typical journey of a typical empire citizen. I found myself driving around in my 4,000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile), going from one shopping location to another. Each time, I had to circle around the parking lot to find an available space. Then, I had to walk into the store and work my way around the labyrinth shopping battlefield of rabid consumers to find what I needed. I had to stand in line to pay for the crap. I had to use cash, which has become an alien concept to me. The whole affair was tiring and boring. I was, for the most part, reduced to an automaton.
An automaton. That's what most of us humans are and continue to be. That's what I am, at the decrepit age of 55 years. When the thief stripped me of my illusory tools of (mostly financial) independence, I was reduced to a physical and existential nobody. The feeling was unnerving. However, in retrospect, I believe that I had momentarily discovered the true essence of being a creature. I became a simple biological life-form, another animal, with no ties to the artificial world created by antecedent humans. Sadly, my reflex was to expediently recreate the bonds of slavery. My entire existence is dependent on the "system," no matter how much I have fooled myself with all the talk about the
exodus.
Institutional helplessness is about all we rank-and-file peons know and love. Any act of "independence" really only transpires in a very small frame or locus of control. The frame is so microscopic that it is totally laughable. The microscopic frame serves as the theater and backdrop for our entire transactional plane. In other words, we resemble insects more than anything else. Yet, I have to wonder whether the common insect is much more liberated than we humans.
I certainly need to rethink my "place" in the ridiculous concept of "society." The thief did me a favor in one respect: I was jolted from my eternal stupor and false sense of security. I was shown that I had erected another wall, albeit small, of
hubris. I became lazy and complacent. All the while I am being robbed both by the "system" at large and petty criminals.
By 10am, the calm and relaxing
ambiance of the Barnes & Noble®
Café was being stripped away by the infiltration of mob shoppers. The herd instinct, part and parcel of the "inner animal," was at play. Behaviors and actions degrade to the base level. Stupidity prevails. That was my cue to prepare to leave. After all, the same old urban nomad routine awaited me.
At the gym, I was able to catch a microsecond glimpse of the hottie gym trainer after all. Baby was on her way out just as I was checking in at the front desk. Baby was looking mighty fine. Yabba dabba doo! I completed my usual workout and rode the bus back to Kahala Mall. I loitered in various locations in the mall until the stores closed at 5pm.
I decided to treat myself to dinner at Taco Bell® in the mall. Three bean
burritos with green sauce, no red sauce. Payment was made in cash. I sat at one of the vacant tables in the food court wing and ate my dinner in a true loser-like fashion. I must admit, though, the experience was much more pleasant than eating dinner in my squalid room at Slob Manor.
I finally made my way back to the dump known as Slob Manor just as Alan was returning from food shopping. We chatted for about 30 minutes. No one else was home except for us. A pleasant change, for once. Of course, all good things must come to an end.
On a side note, I am not able to access my mailbox because the keys were stolen. So, the expense report will remain incomplete for a few days until the appropriate documents can be retrieved.
