Day of Samhain 2012

Another beautiful full moon. Red star reminder. Gateway to the universe and truth. Day of Samhain. Pure nonsense. Might I suggest viewing the appropriate flick, "The Breed," in celebration. Or, "Ultraviolet," is pretty good, too. Check both of them out on the Crackle® site.


Typical Samhain Hottie
The den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala was the scene of a frenzied Day of Samhain celebration, mostly for families. Of course, the sordid celebration in Waikiki this evening will be worse. Fortunately, I won't be at the latter event.

On a side note, I espied a homeless guy in the Honolulu Stadium Park with his mobile home (read: shopping cart) yesterday. He had a surfboard strapped on top. Strange things.

Fear of a Senior Citizen Planet

Senior citizens everywhere. I have been steadily observing them for several months now. I have already reported my observations concerning the stages of decrepitude in the "blog." Let me not belabor the point.

Long story short, I am already a member of the senior citizenship. As such, I will be perfectly honest. I am not altogether certain that I can grow old gracefully. Frankly, "gracefully" is a subjective and pejorative term. I am already not liking what I see in the mirror. What happens when my entire body resembles a shriveled prune with huge old man blemishes discoloring most of my skin? What will I do when I see my atrophied muscles literally hanging from a grossly deformed skeletal structure? Will I be able to even see anything while wearing the hideous "snorkel mask" sunglasses so popular with senior citizens? And, what happens when my mind deteriorates?

Don't believe me? Take off your senior citizen filters and take a good look around. Observe them closely for an extended period of time. That's you pretty soon. Not liking what you see? So, now you know where I stand. I am certain that most people want to remain alive as long as possible, even if in varying states of decrepitude. I used to think the same way. Now, I am wondering whether the best time to "kick the bucket" is right before the stages of decrepitude commence, that is, before the real pain and suffering begins.

Incidentally, the senior citizens that we are accustomed to seeing in public are the minority. The vast majority reside in hospitals and hospices in vegetative states. They are hidden from us. They are essentially cadavers being slowly mummified by endless streams of prescription medications. There is no way that I could live (term used loosely) like that.

On a side note, have you viewed the flick, "Ninja Cheerleaders," on the Crackle® site? It is my new favorite. Great flick! Great fun!

So, Here I Am

The tablet computer has become much more difficult to work with because few of the important Web sites are designed for a touchscreen interface. I had previously gone through several test runs. The results seemed satisfactory. Now, I'm not so sure. The worst problem appears to be the embedded JavaScript. Lots of lags and crippled functionality. Oh well. All the more reason to minimize my computer usage. Mummification would be even better.

After the last tsunami evacuation, I have identified more useless possessions for immediate divestiture. Anything that impeded a swift evacuation is a candidate. Coincidentally, the downsizing and streamlining are optimal for the homeless life-style.

So, here I am. No friends. No babes. Virtually no family. No hobbies. No sports. No interests. No hurdy-gurdy video library (HGVL). No computer, just a limited tablet computer. No "smartphone." Soon, no cellphone. Very few material possessions. I am extremely close to no distractions. That's the goal.

No distractions? No possessions? What's the point? That's only the first step. Next, I must mummify all future-oriented thinking. Anything or any event beyond right now is irrelevant. It, like the past, does not exist. Oh yeah, usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nothing to report.

Another False Alarm

I was in the process of composing the "blog" on my tablet computer in the bookstore at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala last night when I overhead an older woman chatting on her cellphone about the tsunami. Say what? I quickly searched for any news on the Net. Sure enough. The warning had been in effect since 7:30pm. Yet there had been no announcements. I hastily posted a haphazard entry. Then, I stepped outside. The warning sirens were blaring away.

Long story short, I quickly made my way to the bus stop. There were several people waiting, including the older woman who was earlier conversing on her cellphone. She and another person ended up in a conversation with me. They did not know much about the situation, so I filled them in. We also had to be on the bus arriving at 8:19pm because the main road would be closed in about an hour. We were relieved when the bus arrived on time.

At Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I was able to load up most of my possessions into my truck within 20 minutes. Then, I was off to higher ground in Hawai'i Kai. I ended up at my bro's place. The emergency refuge shelters had not even been set up yet. Can you believe it? At 1:30am, the roads were reopened and I was on my way back to the dump.

Alan returned to the dump before me. We ended chatting for over 30 minutes. I was wide awake, so I piddled around until 3am. The tsunami? A no-show. Obviously, the usual Sunday itinerary had to be modified because I had a really late start, two hours later than usual. Otherwise, same ol' shit.

Although I was able to expedite the evacuation of my useless possessions, there is still room for improvement. I left a lot of stuff behind, but that is irrelevant. The new gym bag came in quite handy. What is most important is that I need to have more crap packed away instead of lying around. In other words, I need to be more like a true homeless guy.

On a side note, Alan mentioned that he did believed that the "chef" was somewhat of a dimwit. Yeah, I supposedly mummified the Slob Manor stories. I couldn't resist. Apparently, the light bulb in the fridge burned out a couple of weeks ago. The "chef" apparently went berserk because he thought that the fridge stopped functioning. He even called the landlord in a panicked state. What a maroon!

Nice Day for a Tsunami (Again)

Composing the "blog" with the tablet computer is somewhat painful, even with the predictive keyboard. That's by design. After all, I already offered "last rites" for the "blog" over a month ago. My overall goal is to put the squeeze on all distractions until they are mummified. Distractions mean nothing to me, especially after I determine that they have simply been a waste of time.

I have made the shocking discovery that every activity, every accomplishment, every task that I have engaged in has been a waste of time. However, don't judge me. You may have found your niche that provides you with meaning and purpose. Congratulations! I have not been so fortunate.

Breaking News! Another tsunami warning is in effect because of an earthquake off the coast of British Columbia. As of 7:30pm HST, there appears to be another mandatory evacuation of coastal areas. I will be departing the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala as soon as possible. You know the drill.

Post No. 2,371

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Time seems to be standing still. Of course, that's always when the trouble begins.

The homeless situation is at a standstill. Stupid questions still keep popping up in my mind after the last discussion with my homeless buddy. Will I be able to pull off the ruse? How can I use my Waterpik®? Will I be able to leave the Next Step homeless shelter on an outing after dinner? Blah, blah, blah. Then, there are the issues of theft and other crimes. And, what about my Nissan® Frontier truck? Yeah, my homeless buddy seems to have discovered the darker side of living in a homeless shelter.

The netbook is on its way to its new owner, Mr. Ray in Washington State. I am now restricted to my tablet computers and their associated limitations. My goal has been to decrease my dependence on computers. So far so good. Although I carry one of the tablet computers with me daily, I rarely deploy the device. That's normally reserved for my evening outings. Long story short, I have successfully decreased the amount of available time to compose the "blog" (amongst other benign activities). The implications are obvious. Incidentally, I have no plans to purchase another netbook or notebook computer again.

Even though the netbook has been divested, there is still a lot of useless crap lying around. Volume-wise, nothing has changed. I seem to keep purchasing more junk that simply becomes obsolete within a few weeks. Looks like another donation to charity is upcoming. Could the need for junk fall in line with one of the "immortality narratives"?

On a side note, I have been consuming psyllium as a supplement to reduce cholesterol for a number of years. I believe that I am now suffering from some of the contraindications, primarily intestinal blockage. If the symptoms don't disappear in a week or so, I will probably have to visit the clinic again. The symptoms are most likely being exacerbated by old age.

Legacy of Mortality

Certainly, the most profound quote that I have found from the book, "Immortality," by Stephen Cave:

... we have seen that by taking the fear of death at face value, all four immortality narratives exacerbate the very attitudes that underpin that fear. Bt encouraging people to obsess about their own health, or the state of their own soul, or their particular legacy, they encourage the very self-centered, future-oriented and negative view that caused the fear in the first place.

Are most of our activities just a waste of time? Worthy of some thought, eh?


Typical Legacy Hottie
I am continuing with the downsizing and divestiture of my worldly possessions. Yeah, I keep repeating myself. However, in thinking of the immediate future, I must be prepared to leave the dump known as Slob Manor (read: rental housing) very soon, or at least before anything adverse happens to moms. I already know that such an event would be able to trigger a violent homicidal response from myself toward any perpetrator of stupidity in my path. What might be marginally tolerable now will be unacceptable then. I have already been experiencing intrusive and graphic homicidal ideations. Had I possessed a 9mm semi-automatic pistol, there might already have been a heinous crime committed. I would be composing the "blog" from an incarcerated point-of-view. A sad legacy indeed.

Mortal Memories

Another three weeks has elapsed, so the hair on the oversized cranium has grown out. I really looked like a shabby senior citizen. So, I was compelled to restore my extreme monk haircut. Much better now!


Typical Memorable Hottie
Shocking news. My long-term memory appears to have faded into obscurity. I have been attempting to invoke memories of the past, but to no avail. I can recollect very little of my childhood, adolescence, early adulthood, and middle age. Only bits and pieces. Without long-term memory of my past, how do I even know who I am? My short-term memory is also suffering. I am becoming senile. If it wasn't so pathetic, it would be laughable. Unlike other senior citizens, though, I am not going to be frantically playing with crossword puzzles or "brain exercises" as a remedy.

I ran into my homeless buddy at the library this morning. He mentioned that there are at least seven openings at the Next Step homeless shelter. He is also selling his minivan next week for $2,000 or so. Thus, he had to acquire a large rental storage unit to entomb his voluminous possessions that were stored in the minivan. He also told me that he is taking cholesterol and blood pressure reduction medication, which is why he can sleep so well while in close proximity to 200 other homeless people. Sheesh!


Scene from "Ninja Cheerleaders"
On a side note, I viewed the flick, "Ninja Cheerleaders," on the Crackle® site last night. Three hotties doing a lot of ass-kickin'. And, George Takei (from the original "Star Trek" series) starring as Hiroshi. Great flick! Great fun!

Mortality & Truth

My long journey to find truth and personal meaning has nearly come to an end. In retrospect, my emancipation from wage slavery at an earlier-than-standard retirement age was primarily responsible. Obviously, I cannot look forward to a glorious retirement because of my rapidly degenerating financial situation. However, I can safely say that I have dispelled any useless myths about the future.

As we all know, I began purchasing and reading books. Once read, I donated the books to the library. Eventually, I sought out the library itself as a place of refuge. Reading became my primary activity, the search for truth secondary. Truth is elusive, though. If I so desired, I could find published confirmation of any belief, aberrant or not.

After over five years of research about religion (specifically the Unholy Scriptures of the Yahweh Triad), cosmology, the human mind, and physics, I have finally come to as close to the absolute truth as I possibly could. I have summarized my findings in the "blog" during the process.

The key finding, of course, is that the universe is finite and has a finite lifetime. The same could be said about our solar system. In other words, our entire universe is "mortal," for lack of a better term. Thus, all of the fabrications of humans about eternity and immortality are false. Only a highly inflated sense of self-importance would continue to remain in denial.

Long story short, the two books that really matter for humans are "Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker and "Immortality" by Stephen Cave. For me, these are the true Holy Scriptures. The lack of remedy is certainly not comforting. There are, however, answers to questions that can move us away from individual and collective self-destructive behavior.

The entire journey, as it were, was not glamorous. I did not travel far and wide. I spent my time in the inner courtyard of the library, amongst the homeless and the destitute. The journey was in my mind. Of course, the mind is always where the trouble commences. Thus, the mind was the natural conduit for the journey. The journey, unfortunately, is nearly complete.

Post No. 2,367

Usual Hawai'i visit. Nada to report. Incidentally, I will no longer report any of the stupidity occurring at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) unless it's way "over the top." Just know that the situation has not improved. I have, however, become more willing to deal amicably with the other residents. Of note, though, is that Tom, the drunkard, is not looking too good. He is a walking cadaver. I'm expecting him to keel over within a few months from alcohol poisoning or liver failure.

By the way, Mr. Ray in Washington State sent me a link to an article about the Next Step homeless shelter. There's a slide show of photographs as well. What makes the article interesting is that the author is none other than former Pseudo-professor Chad, an old buddy of mine. You may recall that he departed the Diploma Mill in disgust long before I did.

Mortal Distractions

Distractions are all that we have. "What do you mean, Moto?" That's a quote from the seventies in the last century, by the way. I was distracted. Even if we believe any of the false "immortality narratives," we still must always distract ourselves with moronic tasks. That's been the whole purpose of the failed "civilization" paradigm, at least according to Stephen Cave in his book, "Immortality."

From my own perspective, distractions serve me well until I become bored of them (which is fairly often). Or, if I can no longer distract myself from my mortality, I mummify the distraction. So far, none of the following distractions have endured the test of time:

• Lapsing in and out of a coma
• Watching crappy programming on the tube
• Droppin' back cheap booze
• Sporting activities
• Gadgetry
• Wage slavery
• Babes

Even computers (as well as the "blog") are now getting on my nerves. Reading books and working out at the gym appear to be the only endurable distractions for the time being.

Mortal Slave

I neglected to mention that I noticed a picture of the inside of the Next Step homeless shelter in the newspaper yesterday. The shelter is indeed situated in a warehouse. There is a maze of cubicles in the center of the structure, each covering an area the equivalent of a twin bed mattress. The wall of the cubicles is about four feet high. Many of the residents have attached sheets or tarps to cover the top and entry way. The aisles are fairly narrow, so there is absolutely no privacy. The cubicles that were not covered revealed lots of stuff packed into the cramped living space. I certainly could survive under those conditions, but the experience would be demoralizing.


By the way, there's absolutely no doubt in my mind that the so-called "ownership society" is at the root of the pain and suffering worldwide. The "ownership society" is one of the major tenets of the failed "civilization" paradigm. Over 90 percent of the world population is enslaved because of the "ownership society," and that includes pretty much everyone except the moneychangers and powers-that-be.

Once we have exhausted all of the "immortality narratives," we are left with the stark realization that life is short and terminal. Spending an entire lifetime in slavery and bondage is totally unacceptable. Without unlimited sources of fiat money, there's no way out. Yet, just how much money is required to achieve escape velocity?

I ran into Ann this afternoon on the bus. She has moved back to East O'ahu as of today. Again, a lot of her stuff has been put into a rental storage unit (at $200 rent per month). She is renting a room in a house owned by an old friend. Ann is still unemployed. I hate to say it, but I am seeing history repeat itself again. Ann really needs to rethink her strategy. Otherwise, she will be enslaved in the same cycle forever. Of course, the same could be said of the ol' lavahead. Sheesh!

Immortality (Continued)

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. Incidentally, I removed Shadowgun from the tablet computer. As a senior citizen, I am not able to master the dexterity to even play the morbid game at the easiest level. Sheesh!

I am still leaving an hour earlier (i.e., 6pm) in the evenings, destined for the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. I am also returning to Slob Manor (read: rental housing) from town about 30 minutes later. So, I am now at the dump for only about an hour during the day. I sit on one of the wooden benches at the East end of the den of consumerism until about 6:45pm. Lately, I have been observing the numerous toddlers (with their parents) and the myriad senior citizens. The entire cycle of human life parades in front of me each evening.

I spend about 30 minutes in the Apple® Store using one of the computers to view the usual Web sites. I have seen Reggie, the questionable derelict, in the store several times. Oblivious to anyone else, he views "retro" music videos, playing them at a high sound volume. Oddly, none of the sales people bother him. Neither do they call the security guards. Strange things.

My diet has been modified to include products that are "boosted" with protein, calcium, omega-3 fatty acids, fiber, antioxidants, minerals, and various vitamins. I have always suspected that I am suffering from malnutrition. Thus, I have switched to Naked® juices. I am also trying out Apex® energy bars, a box of which I purchased at the gym. Oddly, I have felt much better overall, even though I still do not get much more than five or six hours of sleep every night. Placebo effect? You think?

My fixation with eating right is most likely rooted in an "immortality narrative." Explicitly, I admit that I am attempting to remain healthy and avoid contracting a chronic illness. Implicitly, I am attempting to prolong my life and its quality as long as I can. In fact, my entire existence seems to be centered upon the latter goal. The denial of mortality is the mainspring of all human activity.

Immortality

I completed reading the book, "Immortality: The Quest to Live Forever and How It Drives Civilization," by Stephen Cave. Very interesting book and a good follow-up to "Denial of Death" by Ernest Becker. The majority of the book is spent on a philosophical and scientific shredding of the four "immortality narratives":

• "Staying Alive" (prolonging physical life via medical and technological means
• "Resurrection" (the traditional religious teaching that we are reborn in the same body)
• "Soul" (the idea that our individual consciousness survives bodily death)
• "Legacy" (gaining immortality through great deeds or our descendants)

For myself, I am learning that most of my activities are centered loosely upon the first of the "immortality narratives." Exercise and diet has been at the forefront of those activities. I have also realized that my inability to maintain long-term interest in hobbies, sports, the "ownership society," wage slavery, and so forth is driven by my perception of time being needlessly wasted on useless endeavors.

Of course, distractions are really all that we have. Every human activity is a distraction of one kind or another to stave off the anxiety of mortality. That's the curse of consciousness in a nutshell.

Both Becker and Cave prescribe a "spiritual" solution to the existential conundrum of mortality. The latter suggests the adoption of the ancient "Wisdom" school of thought. The former believes that a pure form of religion (i.e., not the "big box" organized religions) could hold the key. Idealistic? Perhaps. Nonetheless, I urge everyone to read both books. The truth will set you free.

Wrong Caste

I ran into my homeless buddy again. He said that he called up his ex-babe of over two years ago. She is letting him park his minivan in her parking spot wherever she lives. I found that to be an odd topic to bring up. Then, I realized that my homeless buddy is probably still discovering the various quirks about life in a homeless shelter. Although his minivan is old and beat up, it doubles as storage for most of his possessions. I assume that he was worried about theft in the Next Step homeless shelter's parking lot.

Coincidentally, a few days ago, I had pondered the possibility of vehicle theft or vandalism in the Next Step parking lot. Let's say that I moved into the homeless shelter. My Nissan® Frontier truck is over six years old, but it still looks relatively new. How long before it would fall victim to a crime?

Although I have reduced my worldly possessions down to nearly nothing, there is still lingering evidence that I am not in either the homeless or impoverished caste. How long before I would be discovered perpetrating a charade? Yeah, all that preparation for homelessness ... for nothing.


Hottie Natalia Starr
Otherwise, nada to report. Nada. Zilch. Nada. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Nada. Nada. Nada.

Mummification Tidbits

I am now at the point in which I have no idea about what to do next. The burden of life itself is becoming too difficult for me to shoulder. My options keep narrowing. My resources keep dwindling. And, I am getting older and older. Mortality is the main issue, but the fear of growing old and decrepit is overwhelming. The other day when I espied Les (who is about the same age as I am), I was shocked to see how old he looked. His hair is almost completely grey and his face has been thoroughly weathered by age. From a short distance, he really looked like a 70-year-old man. Of course, have I taken a good look at myself?

I've been attempting to figure out exactly what I want out life, what I should be doing, what I need to do. The life agenda. Meaning and purpose. I don't know why I bother since I have already answered those questions. Rather, the universe has answered those questions for me. And, so has Ernest Becker.

I ran into my homeless buddy at the library this morning. I told him that I was not yet ready to join the ranks over at the homeless shelter. So, the Next Step application process scheduled for tomorrow has been mummified ... for now.

In the meantime, I am divesting whatever I can in order to prepare to travel light, if you know what I mean. I am a senior citizen now. I don't need much more than the basic necessities. Yeah, if I moved into the homeless shelter, I could give away everything and easily replace all of the crap with the money I'd save in just one month.

By the way, I have about two weeks left before my "pay 'n go" cellphone plan expires. I have already removed the phone number from all of my accounts, so mummification of the cellphone is imminent.

Post No. 2,360

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. I am still edging toward homelessness. Nothing to see here. Move on. Sheesh!

On a side note, the latest operating system (OS) upgrade for the tablet computer was somewhat disappointing. Lots of regressions. Some of the "apps" are freezing up. There's also a lot of lag now, too. I doubt that there's going to be anymore updates because the OS is at end-of-life. The next upgrade will be to the entirely new BB10 OS early next year.

I've heard from Mr. Ray in Washington State recently. He's expressed interest in acquiring the decommissioned netbook. Not a problem. Since the netbook is now Linux device, it's best that it remains in the hands of someone fully versed with the OS. The certificate for original operating system is still on the bottom of the unit, but a much more cumbersome process will be required to restore it. Kubuntu functions much better anyway. So, why bother?

Still Edging Toward Homelessness

Same ol' shit. Coffee time at Barnes & Noble® in Ala Moana Center this morning. Usual workout at the gym. Then, I rode an uncrowded Route 9 bus to Kaimuki, which saves me the grief of dealing with lots of morons on the Route 1 bus.

While I sat at the bus stop near 10th Avenue, I saw Les chugging up the hill toward me. I almost didn't recognize him. He apparently traded his hideous pair of glasses for standard wire frames. He looked like a 70-year-old man. What has caused him to age so rapidly? He must have just got out of church because he was clutching the Unholy Scriptures. Fortunately, no conversation with Les ensued.

When I finally arrived back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I discovered that the "chef" had placed some of his organic vegetables on my shelf in the fridge. Being the asswipe that he is, he didn't even bother to move my Subway® sandwich. Thus, the sandwich was severely flattened. I shoved his organic crap as hard as I could into the small remaining space on his shelf, all the while laughing to myself. To add insult to injury, Tom and one of his drunkard buddies were inebriated upstairs. Later, Alan was whacking something against the kitchen counter for about 20 minutes. Are all of the fucktards in Slob Manor clinically insane? The Next Step homeless shelter is looking better and better with each new incident.

Same ol' evening shit. I am still spending the evenings at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. That's my only escape from the insanity of the dump known as Slob Manor. Incidentally, I have been viewing a few vampire flicks on the Crackle® site including "The Breed," "Ultraviolet," "The Devil's Tomb," "Rise: Blood Hunter," and "Vampires: The Turning." No doubt, the proliferation of vampire flicks has to do with the upcoming Day of Samhain celebration. Wheee!

Homelessness & Freedom

I've been pondering the homeless decision off and on. I'm not certain whether I can reside in a warehouse full of homeless people. I am around the homeless most of the day. Then, I ride buses full of Micronesians. There are many Micronesians in the homeless shelter, too. I am privy to enough stupidity as it is. Any more imbecility could drive me berserk.

My homeless buddy is a good guy. However, he is one out of who-knows-how-many. He could be the only decent guy of the whole bunch. He went out of his way to secure a free wheelchair for one of the homeless, but that particular person didn't even bother to show up to receive the gift. My homeless buddy was somewhat perturbed. He has also mentioned that several of the homeless have been hitting him up for money. My homeless buddy needs to be careful.

I'm really not too keen on the idea of the 5:30pm to 8am curfew at the Next Step homeless shelter. Lights out at 10pm. What does one do for 4.5 hours in a warehouse full of homeless people? Frankly, I'd rather be out somewhere , even if I must loiter at a den of consumerism (read: shopping mall). Am I actually privy to more freedom, albeit limited, while residing at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) as opposed to a homeless shelter?

My Survival, My Business

Yesterday, I neglected to mention that I completed reading the book, "The Operators: The Wild and Terrifying Inside Story of America's War in Afghanistan," by Michael Hastings. Interesting reading about the empire's follies.

I also neglected to mention that my homeless buddy secured a free wheelchair for one homeless Next Step resident. Apparently, no one else was willing to help. He also arranged for a church to provide a nice dinner for all of the residents of the Next Step homeless shelter after three straight days of Pork & Beans. My homeless buddy also assured me that I could access his 4G LTE wireless hotspot when I am accepted into the shelter. As I have stated before, my homeless buddy is an honorable guy.


Typical Hot Hottie
Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. The heatwave continues. Otherwise, nada to report. By the way, I have no intention of revealing my homeless plans to moms or my bro. The family might get the wrong idea. My survival is solely my business.

Second Thoughts Again

I keep having second thoughts about becoming a sheltered homeless guy. Foolish, given that I have not even made application to the Next Step homeless shelter yet. I keep pondering the loss of privacy (for what that's worth), the loss of dignity (not that I have much left relative to the failed "civilization" paradigm), and the loss of freedom (subjectively ludicrous). And, what about babes? What if I were to find a babe? Oh, for the love of Molech! I don't even know any babes. I haven't known any babes for decades. Sheesh!

I can't seem to fully release myself from the tyranny of perception. And, faulty perception at that. I've been brought up and indoctrinated with false concepts of society, which ironically are crumbling as we speak. Truth, honor, integrity, respect, love, humility, and so forth. Most of the aforementioned traits are now buried under the whitewash of lies and deception. The worst of the "inner animal" has been let loose.

I really need to stick with the plan: become a sheltered homeless guy. Reside in the Next Step homeless shelter for two years. Seek assistance to find low-income housing, most likely in a senior citizen facility. Yeah, I will be 60 years old by then. In a society that completely values "youth," I find that my life is effectively over. I can visualize the immediate future every morning when I walk into Mickey Dee's® in Kahala for my morning coffee. Lots of decrepit and shriveled up senior citizens. They spend all morning there. What else can they do? Some of them can barely walk.

I ran into my homeless buddy again. I made no attempt to renege on the homeless plan. We're still on for next week. My homeless buddy mentioned that the social worker for the shelter residents is assisting him in finding an affordable rental. Rather than opt for low-income housing, he is hoping to qualify for "Section 8" financial assistance. Unfortunately, I know that I would not qualify for any kind of aid.

I ran into Kevin, the burly homeless guy, at the gym this afternoon. He had just finished his workout and was heading to the sauna. Kevin has been back for a couple of weeks now after a long hiatus from the islands.

At Slob Manor (read : rental housing), the entire first floor common area has smelled moldy, the same bad odor shared by many homeless guys. Alan apparently had not showered for a few days. Then, of course, there's Tom the drunkard and the insane "chef" to round out the dysfunctional cast. Really, Slob Manor is probably worse than a homeless shelter. I pay way too much for rent and receive just too little in return. Yeah, I'm sticking with the homeless plan.

Some may suggest that I simply look for a new place to rent. Wrong-O! Rents have been increasing because the demand for rental housing has been steadily rising since the housing "bubble" commenced. In Hawai'i, the "bubble" never burst. No one can afford to purchase a home, so everyone is renting. There is absolutely no guarantee that any situation would be better than Slob Manor, that is, unless I can afford to pay several thousand dollars per month. Housemates, neighbors, they're all dickheads.

Garbage In, Lots of Garbage Out

Another extremely hot day. Lots of heat. Lots of vog. I ran into my homeless buddy again. I queried him for a few more details about the application process for the Next Step homeless shelter. I then decided that I will commence the process next week. My homeless buddy will help secure documentation stating that I have been homeless for over a year. Abstractly speaking, that is true. I've been homeless for decades. If I can pull off the charade convincingly, then I could be admitted into the homeless shelter in a few weeks.

I will make no more speculations about the homeless life until I am officially one of the sheltered homeless. Just know that life will not be easy. I will become a part of the lowest class of society. I already know that I will not fit in with any of the other homeless. However, my homeless buddy has already warned me that remaining aloof and disassociated from the homeless community is the most prudent option. And, my legitimacy in the outside world will be reduced to nothing. I will be a non-entity.

Why has it come to this? Quite simple really. I have been robbed by the moneychangers and powers-that-be. We're all being robbed, but most people in the "mainstream" want to continue to fight a losing battle. Everyone, even the losers and rank-and-file peons, are attempting to game the "system." That's exactly why everything is totally out of control now.

Humans have really screwed up everything badly. Yet, we continue to barrel along the same self-destructive path. The whole process can best be summarized by an analogy to the garbage we create and what we do with it. Where is the garbage? In a landfill. Out of sight, out of mind. Is the garbage gone? No, it's still there, piling up and festering. Is it benign? No, it is leaching toxic substances into the ground. Is the solution (i.e., landfill) easily extrapolated to infinity? Absolutely not.

Now, think about how humans have addressed most of humanity's problems ... say, the global financial crisis. When the central banks purchase all of the worthless "paper," put it all on their balance sheets, and replace it with more worthless paper (read: fiat currency), they are effectively using the landfill approach. That's been the solution to all human problems. Bury the garbage and only show the clean and pristine façade. What a pathetic joke!

Post No. 2,354

I ran into my homeless buddy at the library. I did not press him for more information about the application process for the Next Step homeless shelter. So, another wasted day. I should have spent the time rearranging the metal chairs in the inner courtyard of the library. Sheesh!

Nothing new to report. Nothing getting done. No divestitures. Same ol' shit. As I stated previously, check the "blog" in a couple of months. Perhaps there may be a new development or two.

No Time For Holidays VI

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Very hot and humid day. Lots of vog, too. Moms and I were able to complete the usual itinerary nonetheless. The gym was almost too hot and too humid for a workout, even with air conditioning. At the end, I performed a 50-minute cardio workout with very little perspiration. My tank top was not even damp. Yeah, it was so hot that I couldn't even sweat. Sheesh!

Same ol' evening shit. Wandering around and loitering at the den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala. No sight of any of the homeless from the Next Step shelter. That's because of the 5:30pm curfew. We don't want to see the homeless loitering around with the "respectable" people at night, do we?

I was actually going to lay out some of my spectacular plans once I become a sheltered homeless guy. However, I would only be "jumping the gun." Anyway, at the rate I'm going, that could be months from now. So, my only concern right now is to become homeless. Yeah, that sounds extremely stupid. I could be homeless in less than an hour, if I really wanted that. Just pack up and walk out of Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Simple. So, I should always specify that I desire to become one of the sheltered homeless. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Waiting on Homelessness

I am literally fighting with myself to keep the "blog" going on a daily basis. There's really nothing to discuss about daily events that hasn't already been discussed. Same ol' shit. Same routine. Same (or equivalent) itinerary. Same foolish "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

I could take the time to describe my recent anxieties. Why bother? A quick read of the book, "Denial of Death," by Ernest Becker would suffice. After all, the denial of mortality is the mainspring of all human activity. Thus, there really is no freedom. We will be slaves (at the very least to our mortality) until the bitter end.

Well, my friends, there won't be any new discussion in the "blog" until I am officially homeless. There's nothing left for me. I am running low on funds. I will eventually default on the mortgage for the detestable "condotel" unit. I can't return to the" mainstream." I can't return to wage slavery because I have been emancipated for too long. So, no money. No babes (no explanation necessary). No friends (no explanation necessary). No nothing. Any remaining readers should wait it out a couple of months until I am homeless. Only filler material will substitute for content in the "blog" until then.

Longing for Wolfenstein

Last night, I installed Shadowgun on the tablet computer (free until the end of the month). Yeah, it's a "shoot 'em up" video game. I've been looking for a replacement for my all-time favorite, the original Wolfenstein. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa! Unfortunately, though, I am unable to play the game effectively because of various senior citizen maladies. I'll keep it on the tablet computer anyway.

I also viewed the latest installment (No. 349) of Keiser Report. The second half of the program features an illuminating interview with Michael Hudson. Really good stuff. Only choose to view the program if you seek the truth.

I need not summarize the day or evening. Just know that I am experiencing extreme anxiety. My mind wants me to flee immediately. No packing. No preparation. Just flee. Incidentally, I've been baffled by my inability to divest the three or four useless possessions remaining. I don't want to go through the tedious task of selling the crap, but I can't seem to just discard them instead. In my time, I have seen trash dumpsters full of thousands of dollars of nearly new items when people move in haste. Why can't I be like that?

Never Trust Apes

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. It's as though time is standing still, but I know better. Time is moving rapidly. Time only appears to be standing still while "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic."

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Tom has been "tanked" (read: inebriated) every day, at least according to Alan. By the way, Tom is in the same age group as Alan and I. What's worst, though, is that Tom has a steady flow of drinking buddies who spend the day and evening with him. Am I to assume that they are all affluent drunkards? I am expecting to see Tom collapse from liver failure any day now. Overall, is Slob Manor any different than a homeless shelter?

Lately, I have been leaving at 5:50pm, an hour earlier, for my evening outing. I'd rather sit in the air-conditioned den of consumerism (read: shopping mall) in Kahala than the stuffy den of alcoholism (read: Slob Manor). Entropic human stupidity continues to increase. Distractions abound. Thus, I am unable to sort through the important thoughts for the "blog." Well, that's why the "blog" has been mummified.

Coffee with Molech

Coffee time most mornings is at Mickey Dee's® in Kahala. I merely make a quick stopover. The place is always packed with senior citizens. Is that my future? Hit and miss on the senior citizen discount for me, though. I neglected to mention that I saw one the the guys from the Next Step homeless shelter in there yesterday. I don't know him personally. My homeless buddy told me that he runs a pool and spa maintenance business. He was driving a small truck with the name of his business emblazoned on the doors. Owns a small business and lives in a homeless shelter? Strange, but true.

The credit card terminal was down at Mickey Dee's® when I arrived there at 8:15am due to an earlier power outage. No coffee time. During the bus ride to town, I convinced myself that the opportunity to mummify my caffeine habit had arrived. However, when I arrived in town, I realized that coffee time in the morning is a ritual that cannot be broken. Caffeine is not the problem since I am now ordering the smallest available size.

Coffee with Molech is the real issue. So, I procured a cup at the Starbucks® on Alekea Street. I did not fit in with the crowd, though. Too many arrogant wage slaves with high opinions of themselves.

When I finally arrived at the library, I discovered that my favorite table in the inner courtyard was occupied by some clown in a suit. So, I sat at the adjacent table. He was engaged in a job interview via video conferencing on his notebook computer. He is some kind of computer nerd. He droned on in a monotone voice about his last position at a non-profit organization. He also worked in Iraq as part of the infrastructure reconstruction program instituted by the empire. At one point, he lost the audio feed. So, he had to use his cell phone. After overhearing that nonsense, I recollected my own personal experiences in the wage slave world. I never want to go back.

I really don't know anymore. I am essentially wasting my life away, but who isn't? I am living like a pauper because fiat money has become fairly worthless. I am still a part of the masses, the damned rank-and-file. And, I am still a prisoner of the "system." I believe that I am ready than ever to check into the homeless shelter.

Upgraded Molech

The BlackBerry® PlayBook® tablet computer received a minor operating system upgrade this morning. Naturally, I had to upgrade both of my tablet computers. Nothing important. The major upgrade (i.e., BB10) will occur early next year, although I am not thrilled about the new user interface. Not much that I can do.


Typical Upgrade Hottie
Nada to report, except that I restored my extreme monk haircut. Yeah, another three weeks have gone by. And, I'm still "rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic." Heck, I still haven't submitted my application for a spot in the Next Step homeless shelter. Sheesh!

Only Molech Knows

My homeless buddy has continued to provide me with insight into the homeless life-style. Now that he actually resides in a homeless shelter, he can offer firsthand knowledge. Of course, much of what he learned has been passed on to him from other homeless with years of experience. The homeless life, of course, seems to resemble the age of foraging that preoccupied most of the lives of early humans. Where to get free meals, where to find free or cheap clothing, where to get cheap cell phones, and so forth.

The Next Step homeless shelter itself is more like a strange minimum security prison with curfews and rules. Infractions don't get the offender more prison time. Rather, immediate eviction onto the streets is the penalty. Friendships, my homeless buddy confided, should be avoided. Mere association with an offender could also result in immediate eviction. And, bad associations could lead to bigger trouble.

My homeless buddy also mentioned that a couple of homeless chicks at the shelter have been attempting to hook up with him. By the way, the only time time that the genders can mingle is during dinner in the common area. No visitations are allowed in the cubicles. My homeless buddy is definitely keeping his distance. No telling what the homeless chicks are up to.

The library in town is looking more and more like a homeless shelter as the days go on. The entire inner courtyard and the first floor reading room were occupied by the homeless. I did not venture upstairs, but I would assume that the second floor was no different. There are so many new faces in the Honolulu homeless world.

At this point in time, I am certain that I am already mistaken for one of the homeless, at least by untrained eyes of those who are not homeless. A handful of the homeless novices also suspect that I am homeless or at least reside in one of the shelters. And, shockingly, many of my acquaintances are now in the homeless demographic. Will I be joining them soon? Only Molech knows.

Post No. 2,346

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Nada to report. After my workout at the gym, I shopped at Safeway® and spent about $30 on "healthy," albeit mostly liquid, food products. I have become quite concerned about malnutrition, specifically certain nutrients missing from my diet. So, I purchased a big-ass bottle of Odwalla® SuperFood, smaller bottles of Naked® Green Machine and Blue Machine, a bottle of GlenOaks Farms Probiotic Yogurt, and three Clif Bar® energy bars.

Incidentally, I have consumed the last of the Muscle Milk® "meathead" mix. I am not planning to replenish my supply of the product. That is why I am seeking out other sources of nutritional supplements. In the meantime, I will look for a less carcinogenic equivalent of "meathead" mix.

Perhaps I am just wasting a lot of time and money for no particular reason. I am a senior citizen now. Health issues are moot because I am growing more decrepit by the day. Why don't I revert to junk food already? At least I can enjoy all the delicious fatty foods and decadent sweet desserts while I still have my wits about myself. After all, I could eat all of the cardboard-like healthy foods and still end up with cancer or suffer a heart attack. Sheesh!