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.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Friday, June 09, 2006
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:
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.
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
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.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Satanic Gargoyles
I was in a bad way when I returned to Chez Loser yesterday. Chubs and Dumbo, her stupid kid, exacerbated the situation with another stompfest. I was losing my mind as it was. So, I popped the cork on the bottle of Sutter Home® Chardonnay. I drank half the bottle. I decided to drive to Safeway® in the Kane'ohe Bay Shopping Center for lack of anything better to do. This is the Safeway I always shop at. It's across the street from Windward Mall. I bought a 12-pack of Red Hook® India Pale Ale. I dropped back two bottles when I returned to Chez Loser.
Incidentally, the other night, Chubs' BoyToy, the five-minute wonder, came by for another nookie session. Chubs was actually moanin' and groanin' this time. After the five-minute wonder shot his wad, his oversized squeeze literally ran to the shower. Did the five-minute wonder lose control and spooge all over Chubs? Heck if I know. When the ol' lavahead used to do da wild thing, he made sure that the Vienna Sausage was not shooting off like a fire hose. Of course, the ol' lavahead will do whatever baby wants. Man, I don't want to think about that crap anymore. Remember when the ol' lavahead was doin da wild thing four or five times a day? I'm a decrepit old senior citizen now.
I woke up at 6am. I felt shitty because of the all the booze I consumed. Frankly, I think that my liver is giving out. Chubs and her stupid kid named after the chicken farm were stomping around at 6:30am. My nerves were shot. Fortunately, the overweight duo left shortly afterward. I did some cleaning. I also sorted out more stuff to be divested or donated. I finally departed for town at 9am.
I ended up at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I walked to the Post Office to see about renting a PO Box. I did not have enough identification with me. It's all getting out of hand because of the so-called "war on terror." Even something as simple as applying for a PO Box requires an intensive background check. I called the UPS® Store and inquired about a private mailbox. $85 for three months. Whoa! Highway robbery! Looks like I will have to go through the "terrorism" background check to get a plain ol' PO Box. Sheesh!
I called Hawai'ian Electric to terminate my electricity service on June 20th. I also finally called New City Nissan® to schedule an oil change and to fix a couple of recall items. I sent e-mail to Pseudo-professor Glenn's real estate agent, Jim, to inquire about rentals. I even called up the management company for the Chez Loser complex. I then called one of the parking management firms about finding monthly parking in town. Nada. Debbie, my realtor, called and left a message. The new owners of Chez Loser will not be arriving for three weeks after closing. So, I could pay them rent for that time and stay there. I was not too keen on the idea.
As you can see, the whole situation has escalated into a major nightmare. The rental listings in the paper were interesting. Some of the units have gone up $200 per month since last week's listings. In addition, an article in the paper stated that Hawai'i real estate sales for last month were up. Home prices were also up. No housing "bubble" here yet. Now, I'm stuck. I'm soon to be homeless. When I find a rental, I'll be paying as much as my current mortgage or more.
Mr. Ray sent e-mail. I was wondering what happened to him after he returned from his grueling vacation. Seems that he's ready for a new adventure himself. Alas, the sinister kahuna and its satanic gargoyles are at it again. Here in Hawai'i, they are once again toying with the oversized cranium. This is the plight of the modern wage. Always a day late and a dollar short. Fortunately, I always have the gym.
As my day in the faculty computer lab drew to a close, I felt no sense of accomplishment. The satanic gargoyles are laughing their asses off as we speak. A lot of people are fearing June 6th because of the numeric combination of the date. Hogwash! The satanic gargoyles could care less if the numbers of the month, day, and year are sixes. Heck, I don't even care. I'm just worried that my liver is giving out.
Well, what's left? Back to Kane'ohe. Beans and rice for dinner. Try to keep myself from droppin' back a few brewskis. The tube. Nalu Board. Lord have mercy!
Late Breaking News. This just in! Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, called. He said that his place fell out of escrow because the buyer could not get financing. Essentially, Rob was saved in the eleventh hour. He could literally live for peanuts by staying in his house since it is paid up. I am now on my own.
Incidentally, the other night, Chubs' BoyToy, the five-minute wonder, came by for another nookie session. Chubs was actually moanin' and groanin' this time. After the five-minute wonder shot his wad, his oversized squeeze literally ran to the shower. Did the five-minute wonder lose control and spooge all over Chubs? Heck if I know. When the ol' lavahead used to do da wild thing, he made sure that the Vienna Sausage was not shooting off like a fire hose. Of course, the ol' lavahead will do whatever baby wants. Man, I don't want to think about that crap anymore. Remember when the ol' lavahead was doin da wild thing four or five times a day? I'm a decrepit old senior citizen now.
I woke up at 6am. I felt shitty because of the all the booze I consumed. Frankly, I think that my liver is giving out. Chubs and her stupid kid named after the chicken farm were stomping around at 6:30am. My nerves were shot. Fortunately, the overweight duo left shortly afterward. I did some cleaning. I also sorted out more stuff to be divested or donated. I finally departed for town at 9am.
I ended up at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I walked to the Post Office to see about renting a PO Box. I did not have enough identification with me. It's all getting out of hand because of the so-called "war on terror." Even something as simple as applying for a PO Box requires an intensive background check. I called the UPS® Store and inquired about a private mailbox. $85 for three months. Whoa! Highway robbery! Looks like I will have to go through the "terrorism" background check to get a plain ol' PO Box. Sheesh!
I called Hawai'ian Electric to terminate my electricity service on June 20th. I also finally called New City Nissan® to schedule an oil change and to fix a couple of recall items. I sent e-mail to Pseudo-professor Glenn's real estate agent, Jim, to inquire about rentals. I even called up the management company for the Chez Loser complex. I then called one of the parking management firms about finding monthly parking in town. Nada. Debbie, my realtor, called and left a message. The new owners of Chez Loser will not be arriving for three weeks after closing. So, I could pay them rent for that time and stay there. I was not too keen on the idea.
As you can see, the whole situation has escalated into a major nightmare. The rental listings in the paper were interesting. Some of the units have gone up $200 per month since last week's listings. In addition, an article in the paper stated that Hawai'i real estate sales for last month were up. Home prices were also up. No housing "bubble" here yet. Now, I'm stuck. I'm soon to be homeless. When I find a rental, I'll be paying as much as my current mortgage or more.
Mr. Ray sent e-mail. I was wondering what happened to him after he returned from his grueling vacation. Seems that he's ready for a new adventure himself. Alas, the sinister kahuna and its satanic gargoyles are at it again. Here in Hawai'i, they are once again toying with the oversized cranium. This is the plight of the modern wage. Always a day late and a dollar short. Fortunately, I always have the gym.
As my day in the faculty computer lab drew to a close, I felt no sense of accomplishment. The satanic gargoyles are laughing their asses off as we speak. A lot of people are fearing June 6th because of the numeric combination of the date. Hogwash! The satanic gargoyles could care less if the numbers of the month, day, and year are sixes. Heck, I don't even care. I'm just worried that my liver is giving out.
Well, what's left? Back to Kane'ohe. Beans and rice for dinner. Try to keep myself from droppin' back a few brewskis. The tube. Nalu Board. Lord have mercy!
Late Breaking News. This just in! Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, called. He said that his place fell out of escrow because the buyer could not get financing. Essentially, Rob was saved in the eleventh hour. He could literally live for peanuts by staying in his house since it is paid up. I am now on my own.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Case for Insanity
My confusion about life is spiraling out of control primarily because I cannot seem to grasp any meaning for my existence. Although I have maintained the life of a quasi-ascetic, I have yet to develop my spirituality. Instead, I have turned asceticism into a science. I am the primary research scientist. I have become obsessed with the tedious mechanics used to attain the ascetic life-style without regard to the nature of asceticism itself. I have ignored the spiritual component.
The fact of the matter is that I was once a materialist. Highly materialistic, I might add. There is no deity in materialism. If any worship is involved, then it would be the worship of money. In effect, there is no spirituality to materialism unless we consider hedonism to be a form of spirituality. Seeking pleasure above all else really has no meaning. Seeking pleasure is often addictive and insatiable. The hunger just keeps growing.
These kinds of sporadic and intrusive thoughts keep popping up the closer I approach the day of infamy. That is, the day I become homeless. I neglected to mention that I ran into Professor Gordo at the student computer lab on Saturday. He was stationed in Iraq for a year. I was glad to see that he made it back in one piece.
Moms called me early this morning to inform me of the plans for the day. I drove to Hawai'i Kai via Kailua and Waimanalo. What a beautiful drive! I observed that the surf conditions were really flat. I picked moms up. We drove to Longs® and to the open market at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. Then, we ate lunch at Yummy's Korean BBQ. Lunch was delicious. I spent a little bit of time with moms before returning to Kane'ohe.
I caught the bus to town at 1:45pm. Robert, the former IT guy at the Asylum, called. He wanted us to meet with Internet Jon to view the available apartments. I went to the gym first. Rob picked me up at 3:45pm. The apartment is in the Kapahulu area. There are two units available. Both units are being completely renovated. They are actually not too bad for $1,425 per month. I was not exactly thrilled with the 'hood. It's kind of old and dumpy. Rob and I will have to really think about this situation. We would have to lock into a six-month lease. Could we live as roommates for that period of time? Rob dropped me off at the Diploma Mill. I spent an hour in the faculty computer room before it was time to leave on the last express bus back to Kane'ohe. Wheee!
Debbie, my realtor, sent e-mail. She wants to set up our signing date for sometime this week. This will be the last step for me before the closing. Shirley sent e-mail. Her sister has not purchased a place yet. She's not sure when she will be available to do lunch again. Well, I think that it's time for me to go to Safeway® and buy another case of brewskis. Don't you?
The fact of the matter is that I was once a materialist. Highly materialistic, I might add. There is no deity in materialism. If any worship is involved, then it would be the worship of money. In effect, there is no spirituality to materialism unless we consider hedonism to be a form of spirituality. Seeking pleasure above all else really has no meaning. Seeking pleasure is often addictive and insatiable. The hunger just keeps growing.
These kinds of sporadic and intrusive thoughts keep popping up the closer I approach the day of infamy. That is, the day I become homeless. I neglected to mention that I ran into Professor Gordo at the student computer lab on Saturday. He was stationed in Iraq for a year. I was glad to see that he made it back in one piece.
Moms called me early this morning to inform me of the plans for the day. I drove to Hawai'i Kai via Kailua and Waimanalo. What a beautiful drive! I observed that the surf conditions were really flat. I picked moms up. We drove to Longs® and to the open market at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. Then, we ate lunch at Yummy's Korean BBQ. Lunch was delicious. I spent a little bit of time with moms before returning to Kane'ohe.
I caught the bus to town at 1:45pm. Robert, the former IT guy at the Asylum, called. He wanted us to meet with Internet Jon to view the available apartments. I went to the gym first. Rob picked me up at 3:45pm. The apartment is in the Kapahulu area. There are two units available. Both units are being completely renovated. They are actually not too bad for $1,425 per month. I was not exactly thrilled with the 'hood. It's kind of old and dumpy. Rob and I will have to really think about this situation. We would have to lock into a six-month lease. Could we live as roommates for that period of time? Rob dropped me off at the Diploma Mill. I spent an hour in the faculty computer room before it was time to leave on the last express bus back to Kane'ohe. Wheee!
Debbie, my realtor, sent e-mail. She wants to set up our signing date for sometime this week. This will be the last step for me before the closing. Shirley sent e-mail. Her sister has not purchased a place yet. She's not sure when she will be available to do lunch again. Well, I think that it's time for me to go to Safeway® and buy another case of brewskis. Don't you?
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Material World
Last night, I drank the remaining half of Sutter Home® Chardonnay. I drove to Safeway® to buy a loaf of bread. I ended up purchasing another bottle of wine, although I did not pop the cork.
Well, I woke up early this morning. I drank the remaining half-pot of coffee. I refrigerate my leftover coffee. Actually, cold coffee is much better. I read the Sunday paper. Then, I had nothing to do. I rode my Nalu Board as usual. I departed for town at 11am. Student computer lab at Diploma Mill. Gym. Return to Chez Loser. Canned salmon and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
As I was writing this crap, I realized how narcissistic it all seems. I am writing about my foolish life, my foolish decisions, and my foolish opinions. Yes, the "blog" is quite vain. My troubles are trivial compared with the lives of other people around the planet. There was a time that I was much more vocal about world issues in my scribblings. However, I received a lot of flack. Now, I've resigned to an on-going diatribe about the mundane. Yet, who really cares whether I divest my useless possessions or not? In a sense, I've come to wash my hands of the stupidity and corruption that is well out of my control, even knowing that it will come back to kick us in the ass no matter what.
I have been reading "Generation Me," by Jean Twenge. One of the premises of the book is the effect of the "self-esteem" movement on the young generation. I found it quite laughable to observe the residuals of the movement to be all-pervasive in the media, especially the tube. Twenge asserted that the "self-esteem" agenda has simply substituted narcissism for competency and is incubated from the first stage of progressive parenting. In its wake, the movement has produced a collective of self-centered, rude, arrogant, and essentially dumb cattle. In recalling some of the entries of the old journal, I distinctly noted that I recited some of the very same "self-esteem" mantras which supposedly fostered "feel good" experiences with no basis in reality. Even well-intentioned readers offered advice and opinion laced with "self-esteem." All that just to question the nature of the "blog." Sheesh!
I can only wonder whether certain aspects of this vain society had triggered a kind of counter-cultural rebellion, albeit passive, within a few of us. Why do we not embrace materialism in the "land of plenty" as do most of the general populace? Why have we made asceticism a science amidst rabid consumerism? The unfettered "self-esteem" movement is the basis of chronic materialism by means of poorly rationalized self-gratification in excess. Chronic materialism is also the new vehicle by which to achieve individualism, or so most masses believe. Yet, upon closer scrutiny, chronic materialism simply aggregates conformity. True non-conformity requires that we take a path that is diametrically opposed to the masses.
In the last few days, I have struggled with the divestiture of my useless possessions. It will happen over and over again until the Salvation Army finally picks up the donations. I cannot begin to estimate the amount of time that I have wasted on this trivial internal debate. Giving up the simplest of useless possessions causes an emotional dichotomy. I am beginning to wonder if I am actually grappling with mental illness. I believe that most of us somehow identify with our possessions. Without them, we feel naked and vulnerable. We also must deal with the perception of poverty and discomfort. Yet, the true discomfort is in maintaining a comfort level beyond what is necessary.
Divesting Chez Loser and finally resigning to the fact that I should be a renter instead of homeowner became a time of reckoning. I felt that I was going backward, spiraling downward to poverty. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is the power of materialism in our culture, which is what drives us to do things that we really don't want to do. Social acceptability is a powerful incentive. I have long ago dismissed peer pressure, so my motive was not to impress others. Indeed, I had established my own parameters to measure my success. Thus, it was my own expectations which were leading to my demise.
Nothing thus far makes any sense, eh? After the sale of Chez Loser, I will have assets of over $535,000 with most of it being in liquid investments. Chump change to the average clown, I know. However, if I can keep my spending to a minimum and avoid amassing useless possessions, then I can begin my transition to semi-retirement. This has been my goal for a long time, but I keep muddying it up with stupid notions.
I do not know how long I plan to stay in Hawai'i. I will be here while moms is around. In fact, I often forget that the latter is the only real reason that I came back in the first place. I am a senior citizen now, but I keep trying to postpone my acceptance of that fact. That is what keeps me locked in the vortex of stupidity.
Today was yet another mundane day, mostly of my own doing. The fact that I have composed a long "blog" entry is the clue that I spent a lot of time in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I could go to the beach. I could go surfing. Why don't I? Lori sent a long e-mail to all of her friends. She detailed her trip to China, most of it being the Great Wall Marathon. Almost everyone whom I know is traveling and doing exciting stuff. I am the only one who is essentially performing the proverbial water torture on myself. Perhaps this is not really torture to me. Maybe I truly enjoy sitting at the computer.
My conflict with materialism is getting the better of my psyche. A long time ago, Lori told me that she was missing out on life. Now, she pursues life with unabated passion and an endless bank account. That is, after all, what she really wanted. The dream life, just like what we are exposed to every day on the tube. It takes a lot of dough to live the life-style of the rich and famous. Lori has access to that kind of dough, whereas I do not. And, I am not willing to entrench myself further in wage slavery to lend credence to the adage, "Work hard, play harder." There is no limit. The hunger becomes insatiable.
Trying to discover "who I am" and what I want to do at such an advanced age is truly sad, at least upon face value. However, "who I am" is one of the basic cornerstones of the "self-esteem" movement. The need for "self-discovery" or the need to "re-invent oneself" are subset concepts of "who I am." Neither are realizable goals without materialistic contructs. And, there we have come full circle. We hide our true selves with our possessions, with our clothes, and with our money. We become what we buy. So, we purchase our "self."
What I really need to do is separate myself from materialistic thinking. Essentially, I must distance myself from the material world (read: exodus from society). I suspect that the recent "incongruence" has resulted from my increased exposure to the vain programming on the tube. I have a few things that I want to do that does not cost much dough. I now have the modest financial means to increase my free time. It takes quite a bit of stamina to separate any guilt from this process. The idea of deriving "self-worth" from wage slavery has been ingrained from birth. This really has been the moment that I have been waiting for.
Well, I woke up early this morning. I drank the remaining half-pot of coffee. I refrigerate my leftover coffee. Actually, cold coffee is much better. I read the Sunday paper. Then, I had nothing to do. I rode my Nalu Board as usual. I departed for town at 11am. Student computer lab at Diploma Mill. Gym. Return to Chez Loser. Canned salmon and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
As I was writing this crap, I realized how narcissistic it all seems. I am writing about my foolish life, my foolish decisions, and my foolish opinions. Yes, the "blog" is quite vain. My troubles are trivial compared with the lives of other people around the planet. There was a time that I was much more vocal about world issues in my scribblings. However, I received a lot of flack. Now, I've resigned to an on-going diatribe about the mundane. Yet, who really cares whether I divest my useless possessions or not? In a sense, I've come to wash my hands of the stupidity and corruption that is well out of my control, even knowing that it will come back to kick us in the ass no matter what.
I have been reading "Generation Me," by Jean Twenge. One of the premises of the book is the effect of the "self-esteem" movement on the young generation. I found it quite laughable to observe the residuals of the movement to be all-pervasive in the media, especially the tube. Twenge asserted that the "self-esteem" agenda has simply substituted narcissism for competency and is incubated from the first stage of progressive parenting. In its wake, the movement has produced a collective of self-centered, rude, arrogant, and essentially dumb cattle. In recalling some of the entries of the old journal, I distinctly noted that I recited some of the very same "self-esteem" mantras which supposedly fostered "feel good" experiences with no basis in reality. Even well-intentioned readers offered advice and opinion laced with "self-esteem." All that just to question the nature of the "blog." Sheesh!
I can only wonder whether certain aspects of this vain society had triggered a kind of counter-cultural rebellion, albeit passive, within a few of us. Why do we not embrace materialism in the "land of plenty" as do most of the general populace? Why have we made asceticism a science amidst rabid consumerism? The unfettered "self-esteem" movement is the basis of chronic materialism by means of poorly rationalized self-gratification in excess. Chronic materialism is also the new vehicle by which to achieve individualism, or so most masses believe. Yet, upon closer scrutiny, chronic materialism simply aggregates conformity. True non-conformity requires that we take a path that is diametrically opposed to the masses.
In the last few days, I have struggled with the divestiture of my useless possessions. It will happen over and over again until the Salvation Army finally picks up the donations. I cannot begin to estimate the amount of time that I have wasted on this trivial internal debate. Giving up the simplest of useless possessions causes an emotional dichotomy. I am beginning to wonder if I am actually grappling with mental illness. I believe that most of us somehow identify with our possessions. Without them, we feel naked and vulnerable. We also must deal with the perception of poverty and discomfort. Yet, the true discomfort is in maintaining a comfort level beyond what is necessary.
Divesting Chez Loser and finally resigning to the fact that I should be a renter instead of homeowner became a time of reckoning. I felt that I was going backward, spiraling downward to poverty. Nothing could be further from the truth. This is the power of materialism in our culture, which is what drives us to do things that we really don't want to do. Social acceptability is a powerful incentive. I have long ago dismissed peer pressure, so my motive was not to impress others. Indeed, I had established my own parameters to measure my success. Thus, it was my own expectations which were leading to my demise.
Nothing thus far makes any sense, eh? After the sale of Chez Loser, I will have assets of over $535,000 with most of it being in liquid investments. Chump change to the average clown, I know. However, if I can keep my spending to a minimum and avoid amassing useless possessions, then I can begin my transition to semi-retirement. This has been my goal for a long time, but I keep muddying it up with stupid notions.
I do not know how long I plan to stay in Hawai'i. I will be here while moms is around. In fact, I often forget that the latter is the only real reason that I came back in the first place. I am a senior citizen now, but I keep trying to postpone my acceptance of that fact. That is what keeps me locked in the vortex of stupidity.
Today was yet another mundane day, mostly of my own doing. The fact that I have composed a long "blog" entry is the clue that I spent a lot of time in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I could go to the beach. I could go surfing. Why don't I? Lori sent a long e-mail to all of her friends. She detailed her trip to China, most of it being the Great Wall Marathon. Almost everyone whom I know is traveling and doing exciting stuff. I am the only one who is essentially performing the proverbial water torture on myself. Perhaps this is not really torture to me. Maybe I truly enjoy sitting at the computer.
My conflict with materialism is getting the better of my psyche. A long time ago, Lori told me that she was missing out on life. Now, she pursues life with unabated passion and an endless bank account. That is, after all, what she really wanted. The dream life, just like what we are exposed to every day on the tube. It takes a lot of dough to live the life-style of the rich and famous. Lori has access to that kind of dough, whereas I do not. And, I am not willing to entrench myself further in wage slavery to lend credence to the adage, "Work hard, play harder." There is no limit. The hunger becomes insatiable.
Trying to discover "who I am" and what I want to do at such an advanced age is truly sad, at least upon face value. However, "who I am" is one of the basic cornerstones of the "self-esteem" movement. The need for "self-discovery" or the need to "re-invent oneself" are subset concepts of "who I am." Neither are realizable goals without materialistic contructs. And, there we have come full circle. We hide our true selves with our possessions, with our clothes, and with our money. We become what we buy. So, we purchase our "self."
What I really need to do is separate myself from materialistic thinking. Essentially, I must distance myself from the material world (read: exodus from society). I suspect that the recent "incongruence" has resulted from my increased exposure to the vain programming on the tube. I have a few things that I want to do that does not cost much dough. I now have the modest financial means to increase my free time. It takes quite a bit of stamina to separate any guilt from this process. The idea of deriving "self-worth" from wage slavery has been ingrained from birth. This really has been the moment that I have been waiting for.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Existential Vacuum Cleaner
When I returned home yesterday, I was treated to another stompfest, courtesy Chubs and Dumbo, her stupid kid. Dumbo's real name is Tyson. No, Chubs was not thinking of the boxer when she named him. She was thinking about food! Chubs named the stupid kid after Tyson®, which produces hormone-overdosed chickens. Well, I had no choice but to polish off the rest of the Samuel Adams® Boston Lager. Then, I drank half of the bottle of Sutter Home® Chardonnay that I had purchased the other night at Safeway®.
My personal housing crisis has provoked major psychological trauma. With only 16 days before I am homeless, I have yet to do anything to remedy the situation. Instead, I have now embarked on an endless internal debate about why I need to spend so much money to rent a place. I don't want to spend the money. I just don't have a choice. The real issue is that no place is really a home to me. I have no "creature comforts." My so-called "living space" is really just a sheltered place to sleep, eat, shower, and store my useless possessions. At night, I've become like the rest of the cattle. I spend hours in front of the tube because there is nothing else for me to do. This is Viktor Frankl's concept of the "existential vacuum." I could attempt to go out. Where would I go? The mall? Clubbing? The auto mall? The new Kaka'ako homeless shelter?
What I think has happened is that I have now come face-to-face with reality. The reality is one that I had thought I postponed to sometime in the distant future. What am I saying? Well, I am at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. I am at the point where I can begin the next step toward my exit from society, much in the same way that Anonder has already done.
Perhaps my apprehension stems from my interpretation of what may be my one-way descent into the bowels of purgatory and dereliction. I've already commenced the descent. I decided that I would not secure any more employment contracts, which now limits the income that I can derive from wage slavery. I also closed the door on health insurance coverage, unless I pay for it. I can no longer purchase a place for the same reason. I will be a victim of slumlords forever. I have closed the book on the babe situation. I will be alone forever. To insure my singularity, I've amassed a huge hurdy-gurdy DVD library to placate the Vienna Sausage. I continue to divest useless possessions. I've already vowed to never purchase furniture and housewares again. I'm living off a diet that would make a homeless derelict starve (see last chapter of the journal for details). How much longer before I am a clone of Anonder? When will I divest my 2005 Nissan® Frontier NISMO truck? When will I be down to one set of polyester clothes that I can wash in my sink? When will I sleep on the floor in camping gear and use my clothes for a pillow? When will I have nothing except my mind to entertain me?
Why am I holding on to the lifeline of a decadent and dying society? Did you note the oxymoron? I've been longing for freedom for quite a while. Yet, the definition of "freedom" seems to be dynamic. Perhaps freedom doesn't really exist, not in terms of mortality anyway. What exactly can I expect from freedom? And, what can fill the "existential vacuum"?
I woke up early this morning. I made my usual pot of coffee. Then, I departed for town at 10am, one hour earlier than I had planned. The ambient temperature in Chez Loser was already unbearable by 8 o' clock because of the heatwave. I spent most of the day in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill, with the exception of gym time. I will spend more time grappling with psychosis and pondering my plight. The rest of the day? Back to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Nalu Board. Tube. Ho boy!
My personal housing crisis has provoked major psychological trauma. With only 16 days before I am homeless, I have yet to do anything to remedy the situation. Instead, I have now embarked on an endless internal debate about why I need to spend so much money to rent a place. I don't want to spend the money. I just don't have a choice. The real issue is that no place is really a home to me. I have no "creature comforts." My so-called "living space" is really just a sheltered place to sleep, eat, shower, and store my useless possessions. At night, I've become like the rest of the cattle. I spend hours in front of the tube because there is nothing else for me to do. This is Viktor Frankl's concept of the "existential vacuum." I could attempt to go out. Where would I go? The mall? Clubbing? The auto mall? The new Kaka'ako homeless shelter?
What I think has happened is that I have now come face-to-face with reality. The reality is one that I had thought I postponed to sometime in the distant future. What am I saying? Well, I am at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. I am at the point where I can begin the next step toward my exit from society, much in the same way that Anonder has already done.
Perhaps my apprehension stems from my interpretation of what may be my one-way descent into the bowels of purgatory and dereliction. I've already commenced the descent. I decided that I would not secure any more employment contracts, which now limits the income that I can derive from wage slavery. I also closed the door on health insurance coverage, unless I pay for it. I can no longer purchase a place for the same reason. I will be a victim of slumlords forever. I have closed the book on the babe situation. I will be alone forever. To insure my singularity, I've amassed a huge hurdy-gurdy DVD library to placate the Vienna Sausage. I continue to divest useless possessions. I've already vowed to never purchase furniture and housewares again. I'm living off a diet that would make a homeless derelict starve (see last chapter of the journal for details). How much longer before I am a clone of Anonder? When will I divest my 2005 Nissan® Frontier NISMO truck? When will I be down to one set of polyester clothes that I can wash in my sink? When will I sleep on the floor in camping gear and use my clothes for a pillow? When will I have nothing except my mind to entertain me?
Why am I holding on to the lifeline of a decadent and dying society? Did you note the oxymoron? I've been longing for freedom for quite a while. Yet, the definition of "freedom" seems to be dynamic. Perhaps freedom doesn't really exist, not in terms of mortality anyway. What exactly can I expect from freedom? And, what can fill the "existential vacuum"?
I woke up early this morning. I made my usual pot of coffee. Then, I departed for town at 10am, one hour earlier than I had planned. The ambient temperature in Chez Loser was already unbearable by 8 o' clock because of the heatwave. I spent most of the day in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill, with the exception of gym time. I will spend more time grappling with psychosis and pondering my plight. The rest of the day? Back to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Nalu Board. Tube. Ho boy!
Friday, June 02, 2006
Back to Square Zero Again
The counter-offer for the unit at Lili'uokalani Gardens came in yesterday. Debbie, my realtor, called late in the afternoon. The unit is owned by a partnership of four real estate people. The counter-offer was the original asking price. I called Debbie to tell her that I had increasing reservations about purchasing the leasehold property. Obviously, it is fate that has determined the outcome. The greed of the partnership has made it possible for me to exit this potentially lethal deal gracefully. I have been saved in the eleventh hour.
I departed for town at 9am this morning. There has been a heatwave during the past week, so I would rather spend my time in the air-conditioned faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. The day was mundane. I joined Pseudo-professor Glenn and his wife at Indigo Happy Hour. However, I had to leave early (read: 5:20pm) to catch the last express bus back to Kane'ohe. That's another reason why I am sick of living in Kane'ohe. I have a bus-imposed curfew. Oh, yes, I formalized the rejection of the counter-offer with Debbie. I am back to Square Zero.
I called HyPak, one of the only public storage places with low rates. There was only one small unit available. I decided to wait two more weeks instead of renting it now. I also scheduled a time for the Salvation Army to pick up the futon and the other stuff that I am donating. That will be the last of my bulky items to divest.
Out of curiosity, I researched the possibility to do some extended "camping," if you know what I mean. There are very few camping parks on the island. The two closest ones to town are Bellows Beach and Waimanalo Beach. The rules are quite restrictive. Camping is not allowed on Tuesday or Wednesday. A camping permit is required and is only good for 5 days. A certain amount of time must elapse before a new permit can be acquired. And, permits must be booked several weeks in advance. So much for that.
Financial Analysis. I ran a pro forma analysis of my financial situation on my tax spreadsheet. I will have to file estimated Federal and State taxes whether I own a place (in the price range of $150,000) or not. My total Federal and State tax savings will only be about $1,000 if I were to purchase a new place. At this point in time, it would be to my advantage to rent a place, as long as I can find something around $1,000 per month or less.
The tax advantages of home ownership are only evident if one can overextend the liability (read: mortgage) over income, essentially a high debt-to-income ratio. Home ownership only works for fully indentured wage slaves. Over 60 percent of my income will come from investments. My income and overall net worth are so low that I cannot really benefit from home ownership. The only clear benefit would be in the price appreciation of the property which would be realized as capital gains. Property appreciation in Hawai'i is still possible, but the latter will be stifled by higher interest rates. Leasehold properties with termination dates of 30 years or less will be major loss leaders.
I was quite fortunate to benefit from the high property appreciation of Chez Loser in the last two years. I would not expect to see that phenomenon repeat itself unless interest rates go back down again. In Hawai'i, the only area with the potential for significant property appreciation will be in Wai'anae and Makaha.
I departed for town at 9am this morning. There has been a heatwave during the past week, so I would rather spend my time in the air-conditioned faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. The day was mundane. I joined Pseudo-professor Glenn and his wife at Indigo Happy Hour. However, I had to leave early (read: 5:20pm) to catch the last express bus back to Kane'ohe. That's another reason why I am sick of living in Kane'ohe. I have a bus-imposed curfew. Oh, yes, I formalized the rejection of the counter-offer with Debbie. I am back to Square Zero.
I called HyPak, one of the only public storage places with low rates. There was only one small unit available. I decided to wait two more weeks instead of renting it now. I also scheduled a time for the Salvation Army to pick up the futon and the other stuff that I am donating. That will be the last of my bulky items to divest.
Out of curiosity, I researched the possibility to do some extended "camping," if you know what I mean. There are very few camping parks on the island. The two closest ones to town are Bellows Beach and Waimanalo Beach. The rules are quite restrictive. Camping is not allowed on Tuesday or Wednesday. A camping permit is required and is only good for 5 days. A certain amount of time must elapse before a new permit can be acquired. And, permits must be booked several weeks in advance. So much for that.
Financial Analysis. I ran a pro forma analysis of my financial situation on my tax spreadsheet. I will have to file estimated Federal and State taxes whether I own a place (in the price range of $150,000) or not. My total Federal and State tax savings will only be about $1,000 if I were to purchase a new place. At this point in time, it would be to my advantage to rent a place, as long as I can find something around $1,000 per month or less.
The tax advantages of home ownership are only evident if one can overextend the liability (read: mortgage) over income, essentially a high debt-to-income ratio. Home ownership only works for fully indentured wage slaves. Over 60 percent of my income will come from investments. My income and overall net worth are so low that I cannot really benefit from home ownership. The only clear benefit would be in the price appreciation of the property which would be realized as capital gains. Property appreciation in Hawai'i is still possible, but the latter will be stifled by higher interest rates. Leasehold properties with termination dates of 30 years or less will be major loss leaders.
I was quite fortunate to benefit from the high property appreciation of Chez Loser in the last two years. I would not expect to see that phenomenon repeat itself unless interest rates go back down again. In Hawai'i, the only area with the potential for significant property appreciation will be in Wai'anae and Makaha.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Dial M for Moron
I was entertained all last night by Chubs and Dumbo, her stupid kid. When Chubs returned at 7pm, she had to make three trips up the stairs. Obviously, Chubs went on a shopping spree at one of the grocery stores. Food is a great motivator for Chubs but, alas, she was quite winded after the third trip. Within a few minutes, Chubs caught her second wind. There was a flurry of activity in the kitchen (read: slammin' soirée). As I said, food is a great motivator for Chubs. Dumbo was running amuck as usual. As for me, I had to drop back three bottles of Samuel Adams® Boston Lager to calm my nerves.
I did not sleep well at all. I had second thoughts about the offer for the unit at Lili'uokalani Gardens. I am thinking that I am better off renting an apartment, even though I will have to pay as much or more than a mortgage, and I will have no tax deduction. It's the confusion that is causing all of the anxiety.
I am now down to 19 days before I am homeless, and I have yet to do anything about my plight. I woke up early this morning and made a pot of coffee. Dumbo was running amuck. White shit was raining from the ceiling. I surmised that Chubs and Dumbo were in for the day. So, I left for town at 9am.
I called Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum. He said that his distant relative was actually there when we stopped by. The building is owned by the relative, who lives on the second floor. The two units that Rob wanted us to see are on the third floor. Those are the only residential units in the small building. The first floor has a small retail space. The building fronts one of the crummiest parts of School Street (next to the freeway). Rob is apparently not too concerned that he may have only a few weeks left in his place. He seems intent on either renting from the distant relative or from Internet Jon's parents. I tried to get Rob to commit to finding another place. He seemed ambivalent, with the exception that he wants to pay no more than $750 for his share of the rent. For the two of us, $1,500 will get us a real dump in a crummy neighborhood. I decided that I will have to jettison Rob.
I spent most of the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike and Bea came by to visit for a few minutes. Pseudo-professor Glenn also came by. We had an interesting chat. He contacted his real estate agent to see if there were any rental properties available. We may meet tomorrow for Indigo Happy Hour and go on the Art Walk as well.
The 4pm deadline came and went for my offer on the unit in Lili'uokalani Gardens. I did not hear from Debbie, my realtor. Perhaps there will be news tomorrow. For now, I will assume that the offer is void.
I did not sleep well at all. I had second thoughts about the offer for the unit at Lili'uokalani Gardens. I am thinking that I am better off renting an apartment, even though I will have to pay as much or more than a mortgage, and I will have no tax deduction. It's the confusion that is causing all of the anxiety.
I am now down to 19 days before I am homeless, and I have yet to do anything about my plight. I woke up early this morning and made a pot of coffee. Dumbo was running amuck. White shit was raining from the ceiling. I surmised that Chubs and Dumbo were in for the day. So, I left for town at 9am.
I called Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum. He said that his distant relative was actually there when we stopped by. The building is owned by the relative, who lives on the second floor. The two units that Rob wanted us to see are on the third floor. Those are the only residential units in the small building. The first floor has a small retail space. The building fronts one of the crummiest parts of School Street (next to the freeway). Rob is apparently not too concerned that he may have only a few weeks left in his place. He seems intent on either renting from the distant relative or from Internet Jon's parents. I tried to get Rob to commit to finding another place. He seemed ambivalent, with the exception that he wants to pay no more than $750 for his share of the rent. For the two of us, $1,500 will get us a real dump in a crummy neighborhood. I decided that I will have to jettison Rob.
I spent most of the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike and Bea came by to visit for a few minutes. Pseudo-professor Glenn also came by. We had an interesting chat. He contacted his real estate agent to see if there were any rental properties available. We may meet tomorrow for Indigo Happy Hour and go on the Art Walk as well.
The 4pm deadline came and went for my offer on the unit in Lili'uokalani Gardens. I did not hear from Debbie, my realtor. Perhaps there will be news tomorrow. For now, I will assume that the offer is void.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)