This is my first day as a homeless guy. I am fortunate to have a temporary place to stay. Otherwise, my own negligence would have forced to join the homeless in the "tent city" on the West side of O'ahu. I am not comfortable staying in someone else's home. Although Bea went out of her way to provide lavish accommodations for me, I have not taken advantage of them. I sleep on the small futon. I will still take showers at the gym. I did not sleep well last night. I'm not sure why because I was not able to ascertain whether I was experiencing any anxiety or not. This is a troubling symptom. I may be subliminally experiencing stress. This silent form of stress is life-threatening.
Even with the possible manifesting physiological symptoms, I find that I am not moved to take any action to solve my homeless crisis. I may have missed my chance for the Mano'a rental because I did not want to shuttle myself out there at 4:30pm this afternoon. There is another interested party viewing the place today. If that person decides to rent the place, then my opportunity will have been forfeited. I sent e-mail to respond to an ad for a small unit attached to a home in Aina Haina. I would not mind living in that area. It is located close to the beach and also Hawai'i Kai. I sent e-mail to Jim, Pseudo-professor Glenn's realtor. I am still interested in the unit in the Fairway Villa in Waikiki. The only problem is that the rental contract starts on August 1st. I would be completely homeless for three weeks. To complicate matters, I will start working again during the first week of July. Professor Lisa sent e-mail. She's winding down her affairs at Tufts University in Boston. She is due to be back in Hawai'i in August. In my reply, I jokingly asked if she needed a roommate.
Mike, the director of the office which oversees the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, invited me and Sandra, his assistant, to lunch at the Lani'akea Café located at the YWCA. Lunch was excellent. We also enjoyed a pleasant chat. Mike offered to let me stay at his place from July 11th to July 22nd when he is away on a trip. He will also let me use his pass for the parking structure. Certainly a nice first day as a homeless guy. Sheesh!
The rest of the day? Yep, back to the same old routine. I spent most of the day in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. I did my usual workout at the gym. Even though I am staying at the condos across the street, I still pack for the day. I won't return there until after 6pm. My meals will be the same. I'll probably walk over to Safeway® later tonight. I may even watch the tube like a zombie. Sadly, my beloved Nalu Board is in storage.
House Music. The ol' lavahead is still listening to House Music as well as the psychotic classical pieces on public radio. Yesterday, he purchased "Habitat: Beach" from the Kinkysweet® catalog. However, his all-time favorite is still "Afterdark: Chicago," also on Kinkysweet.
Friends. In the past few weeks, I have been privy to exceptional treatment by friends and acquaintances. I bring this up because I really don't deserve it. In the past couple of years, I had become hardened by my daily exposure to rude and callous people. I, myself, became extremely gruff. Sometimes I was just downright cruel. In effect, I became what I despised. Yet, people that I have known over this period of time have really gone out of their way to show kindness to the ol' lavahead, especially in his time of need. I reflected upon this all day. Then, I pondered the vanity of my self-imposed "fender bender" yesterday. The meaning of life has really eluded me.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
Farewell Chez Loser
I woke up early this morning to the sound of rain. I was quite perturbed because I still had one more load of crap to move. I did the laundry so that I could pack my sheets and clothes. I also packed the tube, DVD player, and Nalu Board. I loaded as much as I could in the truck, but I left the truck bed pretty much empty because of the rain. I still had half of my crap sitting in the living room in Chez Loser. The rain stopped just before I had to depart. I had no choice but to leave the rest of the stuff. I drove down the Likelike Highway. I got off at the Kalihi Street exit, just as I did yesterday. Kalhi Street takes me right to Nimitz Highway where Hy-Pac. The road was blocked off at one point, so I had to take a nauseating detour along Dillingham Blvd. I did not have my morning coffee, so I was extremely groggy. I dropped off my stuff in my storage unit. I had to make several trips up and down the stairs. All the while, I kept pondering how I was a complete slave to my possessions.
I drove to Kahala Mall to meet moms. Traffic was extremely heavy. When I finally arrived, I decided to try to park in the covered parking section. As I pulled into a spot, I scraped the right fender of my beloved Nissan® Frontier truck. I stepped out to look at the damage. I was furious. Not only did I scrape the paint off, I also put a small dent in the fender. I noticed that I had a couple of missed calls. One was from Pseudo-professor Mike. He said that I could come by anytime, but they wanted to leave for the airport at 5:30pm. Debbie, my realtor, called to tell me that the closing date has been extended for three more days. I could stay in Chez Loser for another three days. She also mentioned that the rental in Discovery Bay was nixed. I was in a complete daze as I made my way to Barnes & Noble®. I bought a large cup of coffee at the café. I walked to the entrance to the mall and waited for moms. I noticed that the coffee had a funny taste, and I was not getting a caffeine buzz. The clown gave me the wrong kind of coffee. I was about ready to go ballistic. Good thing moms showed up. We chatted for a few minutes. Then, we ate lunch at the Panda Express® as usual. After lunch, I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. We stopped off at Koko Marina so that moms could buy a few things at Foodland®.
I brought a few more things to give to moms to use since I did not want to store any more junk. I also brought my rice cooker and my coffee maker. I did not want to store anything that produces something I consume. My storage unit is too dungy. I should mention that I observed a proliferation of industrial strength mouse traps placed every few feet around all of the buildings at Hy-Pac. Later, moms and I then had coffee ice cream for dessert.
I decided to walk to the gym in Koko Marina. Then, I spent a little more time with moms before departing. I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. I wasted some dough on a House music compilation CD. I've been spending a lot of money this week. Incidentally, I neglected to mention that I drove to Safeway® last night. I bought a soggy $5.49 salad for dinner. About six hours earlier, the salad would have been a deal. In its soggy and wilted state, I felt swindled. This is the kind of mediocre shit we must deal with in modern life. No wonder so many people go on homicidal rampages. Sheesh!
I left the mall at 4:45pm. I arrived at the Honolulu Tower (where Bea lives) at 5:15pm. I was completely glazed over from all the driving that I did as well as the "bodywork" I did on my fender. Pseudo-professor Mike was at the entrance to the parking structure. He wanted me to drive up to Bea's parking spot. The parking space is on the seventh floor, and it is worse than the space at Kahala Mall that did the "bodywork" on my truck. It took me five minutes to maneuver into the space. I almost did some "bodywork" on some of the adjacent cars, We went through the maze of elevators to get to Bea's condo. The three of us sat and chatted for a few minutes. Bea gave me the rundown on some of the chores that I would need to do.
We departed at 6pm. Bea had to drop her car off at a relative's place. Pseudo-professor Mike and I followed and picked her up on the way to the airport. I dropped them both off at the airport. While I was driving back to town on the H-1 freeway, I saw the Likelike Highway exit. I decided to make the drive to Kane'ohe to get the rest of my stuff. This was my last drive to Kane'ohe. I pulled into my parking spot at Haiku Point, the home of Chez Loser. I observed that Chubs was not home. I loaded up my stuff, including my beloved surfboard. I left the keys on the counter and locked the door with the keys in the lockbox. I didn't spend any time reflecting about my time at Chez Loser. In fact, I really did not have any feelings at all. Thus, I left Chez Loser without shedding a tear. It's the end of an era, but I am only looking forward to the $133,000 to deposit.
The drive back to town was fatiguing. I was already losing my mind from the "fender-bender." You can imagine how I felt about driving all day. It took me five minutes to finally park the truck in Bea's stall. I had to make two trips to unload my stuff. I sat down and relaxed for the first time in days. I still could feel the anxiety welling up since I am now effectively homeless. I had brought the last of my rice and a can of salmon with me. I cooked some rice in Bea's rice cooker. Then, I ate the salmon with the rice, just like old times. After dinner, I walked across the street to the Uptown Post Office to check my mail. By the way, the Diploma Mill is just two blocks away. For dessert, I ate the rest of the Nabisco® Teddy Bear Grahams that I had bought at Safeway® the other night. Moms used to buy these for me. I really like them, even though they are made with partially hydrogenated lard (read: trans fat).
Alas, I must bid a token farewell to Chez Loser. Will I miss the place? Not really. I'm still not all that excited about finding another mausoleum to live in. Mausoleum? Live in? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Really, I'm just too fatigued to think about it. The self-inflicted "fender bender" also faded into distant memory. At first, I thought that the sinister kahuna was at it again, toying with the oversized cranium. However, in retrospect, I believe that other forces are at play. I was becoming too obsessed with my possessions. I needed someone or something to break the spell. The truck is the most expensive thing that I own now. Yet, it is really nothing. I derive no meaning from it. It is not a "chick magnet." In other words, it is useless. Just like everything else. How do I know? Heck, I'm the Keeper. The Keeper of Lost Lives.
The Keeper of Lost Lives. As you may recall, the moniker, "Keeper of Lost Lives," was given to the ol' lavahead by the editorial staff of the now-defunct magazine, Internet Underground. The magazine was a very nice, high quality national publication. I was living in Convalescent City then. One day, I checked the magazine rack at Barnes & Noble®, and there it was. A couple of my homeys were coincidentally standing around and reading a few magazines. I showed the article about the ol' lavahead to them. That's one of my many 15 seconds of fame.
I drove to Kahala Mall to meet moms. Traffic was extremely heavy. When I finally arrived, I decided to try to park in the covered parking section. As I pulled into a spot, I scraped the right fender of my beloved Nissan® Frontier truck. I stepped out to look at the damage. I was furious. Not only did I scrape the paint off, I also put a small dent in the fender. I noticed that I had a couple of missed calls. One was from Pseudo-professor Mike. He said that I could come by anytime, but they wanted to leave for the airport at 5:30pm. Debbie, my realtor, called to tell me that the closing date has been extended for three more days. I could stay in Chez Loser for another three days. She also mentioned that the rental in Discovery Bay was nixed. I was in a complete daze as I made my way to Barnes & Noble®. I bought a large cup of coffee at the café. I walked to the entrance to the mall and waited for moms. I noticed that the coffee had a funny taste, and I was not getting a caffeine buzz. The clown gave me the wrong kind of coffee. I was about ready to go ballistic. Good thing moms showed up. We chatted for a few minutes. Then, we ate lunch at the Panda Express® as usual. After lunch, I gave moms a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. We stopped off at Koko Marina so that moms could buy a few things at Foodland®.
I brought a few more things to give to moms to use since I did not want to store any more junk. I also brought my rice cooker and my coffee maker. I did not want to store anything that produces something I consume. My storage unit is too dungy. I should mention that I observed a proliferation of industrial strength mouse traps placed every few feet around all of the buildings at Hy-Pac. Later, moms and I then had coffee ice cream for dessert.
I decided to walk to the gym in Koko Marina. Then, I spent a little more time with moms before departing. I stopped off at Kahala Mall again. I wasted some dough on a House music compilation CD. I've been spending a lot of money this week. Incidentally, I neglected to mention that I drove to Safeway® last night. I bought a soggy $5.49 salad for dinner. About six hours earlier, the salad would have been a deal. In its soggy and wilted state, I felt swindled. This is the kind of mediocre shit we must deal with in modern life. No wonder so many people go on homicidal rampages. Sheesh!
I left the mall at 4:45pm. I arrived at the Honolulu Tower (where Bea lives) at 5:15pm. I was completely glazed over from all the driving that I did as well as the "bodywork" I did on my fender. Pseudo-professor Mike was at the entrance to the parking structure. He wanted me to drive up to Bea's parking spot. The parking space is on the seventh floor, and it is worse than the space at Kahala Mall that did the "bodywork" on my truck. It took me five minutes to maneuver into the space. I almost did some "bodywork" on some of the adjacent cars, We went through the maze of elevators to get to Bea's condo. The three of us sat and chatted for a few minutes. Bea gave me the rundown on some of the chores that I would need to do.
We departed at 6pm. Bea had to drop her car off at a relative's place. Pseudo-professor Mike and I followed and picked her up on the way to the airport. I dropped them both off at the airport. While I was driving back to town on the H-1 freeway, I saw the Likelike Highway exit. I decided to make the drive to Kane'ohe to get the rest of my stuff. This was my last drive to Kane'ohe. I pulled into my parking spot at Haiku Point, the home of Chez Loser. I observed that Chubs was not home. I loaded up my stuff, including my beloved surfboard. I left the keys on the counter and locked the door with the keys in the lockbox. I didn't spend any time reflecting about my time at Chez Loser. In fact, I really did not have any feelings at all. Thus, I left Chez Loser without shedding a tear. It's the end of an era, but I am only looking forward to the $133,000 to deposit.
The drive back to town was fatiguing. I was already losing my mind from the "fender-bender." You can imagine how I felt about driving all day. It took me five minutes to finally park the truck in Bea's stall. I had to make two trips to unload my stuff. I sat down and relaxed for the first time in days. I still could feel the anxiety welling up since I am now effectively homeless. I had brought the last of my rice and a can of salmon with me. I cooked some rice in Bea's rice cooker. Then, I ate the salmon with the rice, just like old times. After dinner, I walked across the street to the Uptown Post Office to check my mail. By the way, the Diploma Mill is just two blocks away. For dessert, I ate the rest of the Nabisco® Teddy Bear Grahams that I had bought at Safeway® the other night. Moms used to buy these for me. I really like them, even though they are made with partially hydrogenated lard (read: trans fat).
Alas, I must bid a token farewell to Chez Loser. Will I miss the place? Not really. I'm still not all that excited about finding another mausoleum to live in. Mausoleum? Live in? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Really, I'm just too fatigued to think about it. The self-inflicted "fender bender" also faded into distant memory. At first, I thought that the sinister kahuna was at it again, toying with the oversized cranium. However, in retrospect, I believe that other forces are at play. I was becoming too obsessed with my possessions. I needed someone or something to break the spell. The truck is the most expensive thing that I own now. Yet, it is really nothing. I derive no meaning from it. It is not a "chick magnet." In other words, it is useless. Just like everything else. How do I know? Heck, I'm the Keeper. The Keeper of Lost Lives.
The Keeper of Lost Lives. As you may recall, the moniker, "Keeper of Lost Lives," was given to the ol' lavahead by the editorial staff of the now-defunct magazine, Internet Underground. The magazine was a very nice, high quality national publication. I was living in Convalescent City then. One day, I checked the magazine rack at Barnes & Noble®, and there it was. A couple of my homeys were coincidentally standing around and reading a few magazines. I showed the article about the ol' lavahead to them. That's one of my many 15 seconds of fame.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
Mañana por la Mañana
So far, the weekend has been exasperating more than anything else. The bus was 30 minutes late yesterday afternoon. When I finally returned to Chez Loser, I was glad to see that the Salvation Army truck had picked up the former friend's futon and the other stuff. After dinner, I drove to Longs® to buy a box of trash bags. I spent the evening in front of the tube. Then, I slept on the floor, which really was not much harder than the futon.
I woke up early this morning, mainly because of the increasing number of anxiety attacks that I have experiencing. I perused my pathetic sleeping conditions. I had put a sheet down on the carpet along with my pillows. I had pulled part of the sheet over me to serve as a blanket. I continued to pack away my useless possessions. Rather than divest some of the crap, I simply stuffed them into my new gym bags to be dealt with later. Out of sight, out of mind. I dropped back the last two bottles of Gordon Biersch® brewskis, mainly because I had been using a pair of pliers for a bottle opener. I wanted to pack my tools away to take to my storage unit. After piddling around for another hour, I finally departed at 11am with my truck stuffed full of my useless shit. While I was piddling around, I had a moronic debate with myself about whether I should take my tube, DVD player, surfboard, and Nalu Board to the storage unit. I decided to defer the decision until tomorrow.
I arrived at the Hy-Pac storage facility at noon. Unlike the upscale storage facilities, Hy-Pac does not have air-conditioning. I had to make several trips up the stairs to unload all my shit into my storage unit. I was ready for a few more brewskis. It really became apparent to me how useless all of my possessions are when I was dumping them into the dungy storage unit. I wrapped my new gym bags (and a few of the other items) in the trash bags that I had purchased last night. Why am I so worried about this junk? What is even more mind boggling is the fact that there are hundreds of these storage units in several warehouse buildings, each one stuffed with useless shit.
I drove to town and parked in the parking structure. For $3, I was able to park for the whole afternoon. Wheeee! I ended up in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I composed my "blog" entry, but Blogger apparently disappeared for about 20 minutes. Naturally, I lost most of my work. The sinister kahuna has obviously been toying with the oversized cranium all week. Mr. Ray sent e-mail. He provided me with an interesting perspective on useless possessions. I actually felt much better knowing that someone else shares a similar plight.
While I was at the gym, I kept pondering the so-called "dichotomy" that I discussed previously. I've also thought about where I'd like to live in Honolulu. No one place stood out, although either downtown or Waikiki seem to be best bets. At that point, my mind was ready to snap. I just want to be done with this crap already. The real irony is that I am living like a homeless guy in an expensive townhouse. If I rent a place, I will continue to live like a homeless guy. It just doesn't make sense. When I parted with the former friend's futon, I essentially severed my last tie with "normal" life. I will never own furniture again. What's the sense of owning or renting a place if there's no furniture?
After my brief cardio workout, I took a shower in the dungy locker room. The place is completely filthy. The cheapskates have also started watering down the soap. The showers have low-flow heads which barely produce a trickle. The "No Cameraphones" signs are still posted on the mirrors. I have not seen this at any other branch. As you may recall from the now-defunct MySpace "blog," the clowns in the shower were always looking around. That's when it dawned upon me. I mean, why would guys be taking pictures in the guy's locker room? As I was showering, I realized that I had packed away all my eating utensils. They are now in the storage unit. I had planned to have salmon and rice for dinner, but I cannot even open the damned can. What a maroon!
I decided to stop off at Taco Bell®. I ordered two bean burritos with the green sauce. No red sauce. What a feast for a homeless guy! I almost ruined my appetite by thinking about my pathetic situation again. Come to think of it, I've been feeling really shitty lately. I am worried that the stress has manifested psychosomatically.
I spent a little more time in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. Well, hey! I had to finish the "blog"! This is my last night in Chez Loser and Kane'ohe. I deliberately did not take the tube to storage, just in case I wanted to vegetate in front of it for old times' sake. My Nalu Board is still sitting in the living room for one last ride. Tomorrow, I will officially be homeless. Mañana por la Mañana.
I woke up early this morning, mainly because of the increasing number of anxiety attacks that I have experiencing. I perused my pathetic sleeping conditions. I had put a sheet down on the carpet along with my pillows. I had pulled part of the sheet over me to serve as a blanket. I continued to pack away my useless possessions. Rather than divest some of the crap, I simply stuffed them into my new gym bags to be dealt with later. Out of sight, out of mind. I dropped back the last two bottles of Gordon Biersch® brewskis, mainly because I had been using a pair of pliers for a bottle opener. I wanted to pack my tools away to take to my storage unit. After piddling around for another hour, I finally departed at 11am with my truck stuffed full of my useless shit. While I was piddling around, I had a moronic debate with myself about whether I should take my tube, DVD player, surfboard, and Nalu Board to the storage unit. I decided to defer the decision until tomorrow.
I arrived at the Hy-Pac storage facility at noon. Unlike the upscale storage facilities, Hy-Pac does not have air-conditioning. I had to make several trips up the stairs to unload all my shit into my storage unit. I was ready for a few more brewskis. It really became apparent to me how useless all of my possessions are when I was dumping them into the dungy storage unit. I wrapped my new gym bags (and a few of the other items) in the trash bags that I had purchased last night. Why am I so worried about this junk? What is even more mind boggling is the fact that there are hundreds of these storage units in several warehouse buildings, each one stuffed with useless shit.
I drove to town and parked in the parking structure. For $3, I was able to park for the whole afternoon. Wheeee! I ended up in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I composed my "blog" entry, but Blogger apparently disappeared for about 20 minutes. Naturally, I lost most of my work. The sinister kahuna has obviously been toying with the oversized cranium all week. Mr. Ray sent e-mail. He provided me with an interesting perspective on useless possessions. I actually felt much better knowing that someone else shares a similar plight.
While I was at the gym, I kept pondering the so-called "dichotomy" that I discussed previously. I've also thought about where I'd like to live in Honolulu. No one place stood out, although either downtown or Waikiki seem to be best bets. At that point, my mind was ready to snap. I just want to be done with this crap already. The real irony is that I am living like a homeless guy in an expensive townhouse. If I rent a place, I will continue to live like a homeless guy. It just doesn't make sense. When I parted with the former friend's futon, I essentially severed my last tie with "normal" life. I will never own furniture again. What's the sense of owning or renting a place if there's no furniture?
After my brief cardio workout, I took a shower in the dungy locker room. The place is completely filthy. The cheapskates have also started watering down the soap. The showers have low-flow heads which barely produce a trickle. The "No Cameraphones" signs are still posted on the mirrors. I have not seen this at any other branch. As you may recall from the now-defunct MySpace "blog," the clowns in the shower were always looking around. That's when it dawned upon me. I mean, why would guys be taking pictures in the guy's locker room? As I was showering, I realized that I had packed away all my eating utensils. They are now in the storage unit. I had planned to have salmon and rice for dinner, but I cannot even open the damned can. What a maroon!
I decided to stop off at Taco Bell®. I ordered two bean burritos with the green sauce. No red sauce. What a feast for a homeless guy! I almost ruined my appetite by thinking about my pathetic situation again. Come to think of it, I've been feeling really shitty lately. I am worried that the stress has manifested psychosomatically.
I spent a little more time in the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. Well, hey! I had to finish the "blog"! This is my last night in Chez Loser and Kane'ohe. I deliberately did not take the tube to storage, just in case I wanted to vegetate in front of it for old times' sake. My Nalu Board is still sitting in the living room for one last ride. Tomorrow, I will officially be homeless. Mañana por la Mañana.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Summer Funk
I woke up early this morning and made a pot of coffee. I piddled around doing absolutely nothing while I waited for the Salvation Army truck to pick up my donations. At 10:30am, I decided to put everything out on the lanai. I moved the former friend's futon into the dining room. The frame is made out of solid wood, so it is extremely heavy. I opened the glass patio door and laid carpet scraps on the floor as well out in the lanai. I hit my head against the frame of the futon. A large bump appeared. I used one of the cold bottles of Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis to attempt to prevent any further swelling. After I put all of the donations outside, I departed for town on the bus. I ended up at the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill.
Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail. He's still trying to sell the house. Although home prices are still increasing here, sales have slowed down. Rob is probably better off staying in the house, even though it is falling apart. I believe that he would end up depleting his savings in a few years if he had to rent a place. Rob also mentioned that Kevin, my former backstabbing buddy at the Asylum, has moved to Boston. Kevin is allegedly entering a doctorate program at some university there. Most likely, Kevin's father is footing the entire bill. That was the plan when he told me about it about a year ago. I don't envy him. If and when he graduates, he will be in his fifties. He's better off waiting until he gets his inheritance, which should be in the millions.
Yesterday, Lori said that I have sprouted a lot more gray hair. Well, I am in my fifties after all. I am a decrepit old fool. The gray hair seems more pronounced as my hair grows out. That's why I had to restore my monk haircut. Lori's observation is correct, though. She also seems to think that the stress I've put myself through during the sale of Chez Loser is the real culprit. The prospect of becoming homeless has significantly increased my anxiety, but not enough for me to take action.
Freedom is still the issue here. As I've said before, I am at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. Let's look further at his situation now, shall we? My inaction insofar as my housing situation is concerned stems from several factors. One factor is phone phobia. Another factor is my disdain for slumlords. However, the most important factor is the dichotomy that exists in my thinking. On the one hand, I want a decent place to live that is in a good location. A decent place is one that does not require me to spray the whole place down daily to kill lice, etc. Lori brought that up yesterday. A good location is one that does not have me stuck due to time and bus route constraints. I'll only end up wasting my life in front of the tube as I have for the past year. Now, on the other hand, I don't want to spend a significant amount of dough on rent. I no longer have any furniture. I won't buy any new furniture ever again. Thus, I don't need an extremely expensive, albeit nice, place to live. The rooms are going to be completely empty. I also need money for food. I plan to eat a much better diet. And, I need health insurance. The bottom line, of course, is that nothing I have mentioned so far has anything to do with freedom. Quite the opposite actually. Hence, the dichotomy.
Incongruence is the result of this dreadful dichotomy. Incongruence is also a stepping stone to insanity. I envision a mendicant life-style that pleases me in a location that is somewhat isolated. Perhaps I could live in a shack near the coast somewhere in Costa Rica. The cost of living is cheap, so I won't have to worry about wage slavery. However, I would have nothing to do. Well, I could do a lot of surfing, I suppose. I won't have the gym, or all of my other favorite places to hang out. What will I do? Incongruence, my friends.
Therefore, I have become a "solitary wanderer," as Anonder claims to be. I do not believe that being a "solitary wanderer" is a natural state for humans. Our lives are essentially meaningless without human interaction. Without spending idle time with family and friends, it's simply idle time alone. We, however, live in troubled times. The melding of technology and consumerism has produced a culture rich in greed, poor etiquette, and numerous other blasphemies which alienates the individual. This phenomenon increases with age, primarily because of age discrimination. As I've stated ad infinitum, material possessions can give no meaning to our lives. Meaning can only be derived spiritually. Each of us has a "spirit" or "life force" within us. I believe that part of our purpose in life is to interact with other "spirits." For some of us, the degeneration of society into a collective of moronic cattle has led to our self-imposed isolation. Furthermore, competition for scarce resources has pitted fool against fool, asswipe against asswipe, such that any sense of community has vanished. The common bond, the love and respect that we should have for each other, no longer exists. That is why some of us have become monks, as it were.
Sadly, I do not believe that I will find true meaning to my life as a monk and solitary wanderer. The life of one mind is not healthy. Obviously, I could do more reading to increase the scope of thought. However, the actual interaction is missing. Were there any real quality interaction available, then this treatise would be moot. Until then, I must continue my journey in solitude.
The rest of the day? Gym. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board. Oh, I should continue packing. I will be bringing most of my remaining useless possessions to my storage unit tomorrow. I will also have to do the final cleaning of Chez Loser. Two more days to go. Then, I'm homeless.
Rob, the former IT guy at the Asylum, sent e-mail. He's still trying to sell the house. Although home prices are still increasing here, sales have slowed down. Rob is probably better off staying in the house, even though it is falling apart. I believe that he would end up depleting his savings in a few years if he had to rent a place. Rob also mentioned that Kevin, my former backstabbing buddy at the Asylum, has moved to Boston. Kevin is allegedly entering a doctorate program at some university there. Most likely, Kevin's father is footing the entire bill. That was the plan when he told me about it about a year ago. I don't envy him. If and when he graduates, he will be in his fifties. He's better off waiting until he gets his inheritance, which should be in the millions.
Yesterday, Lori said that I have sprouted a lot more gray hair. Well, I am in my fifties after all. I am a decrepit old fool. The gray hair seems more pronounced as my hair grows out. That's why I had to restore my monk haircut. Lori's observation is correct, though. She also seems to think that the stress I've put myself through during the sale of Chez Loser is the real culprit. The prospect of becoming homeless has significantly increased my anxiety, but not enough for me to take action.
Freedom is still the issue here. As I've said before, I am at the proverbial fork in the middle of the road. Let's look further at his situation now, shall we? My inaction insofar as my housing situation is concerned stems from several factors. One factor is phone phobia. Another factor is my disdain for slumlords. However, the most important factor is the dichotomy that exists in my thinking. On the one hand, I want a decent place to live that is in a good location. A decent place is one that does not require me to spray the whole place down daily to kill lice, etc. Lori brought that up yesterday. A good location is one that does not have me stuck due to time and bus route constraints. I'll only end up wasting my life in front of the tube as I have for the past year. Now, on the other hand, I don't want to spend a significant amount of dough on rent. I no longer have any furniture. I won't buy any new furniture ever again. Thus, I don't need an extremely expensive, albeit nice, place to live. The rooms are going to be completely empty. I also need money for food. I plan to eat a much better diet. And, I need health insurance. The bottom line, of course, is that nothing I have mentioned so far has anything to do with freedom. Quite the opposite actually. Hence, the dichotomy.
Incongruence is the result of this dreadful dichotomy. Incongruence is also a stepping stone to insanity. I envision a mendicant life-style that pleases me in a location that is somewhat isolated. Perhaps I could live in a shack near the coast somewhere in Costa Rica. The cost of living is cheap, so I won't have to worry about wage slavery. However, I would have nothing to do. Well, I could do a lot of surfing, I suppose. I won't have the gym, or all of my other favorite places to hang out. What will I do? Incongruence, my friends.
Therefore, I have become a "solitary wanderer," as Anonder claims to be. I do not believe that being a "solitary wanderer" is a natural state for humans. Our lives are essentially meaningless without human interaction. Without spending idle time with family and friends, it's simply idle time alone. We, however, live in troubled times. The melding of technology and consumerism has produced a culture rich in greed, poor etiquette, and numerous other blasphemies which alienates the individual. This phenomenon increases with age, primarily because of age discrimination. As I've stated ad infinitum, material possessions can give no meaning to our lives. Meaning can only be derived spiritually. Each of us has a "spirit" or "life force" within us. I believe that part of our purpose in life is to interact with other "spirits." For some of us, the degeneration of society into a collective of moronic cattle has led to our self-imposed isolation. Furthermore, competition for scarce resources has pitted fool against fool, asswipe against asswipe, such that any sense of community has vanished. The common bond, the love and respect that we should have for each other, no longer exists. That is why some of us have become monks, as it were.
Sadly, I do not believe that I will find true meaning to my life as a monk and solitary wanderer. The life of one mind is not healthy. Obviously, I could do more reading to increase the scope of thought. However, the actual interaction is missing. Were there any real quality interaction available, then this treatise would be moot. Until then, I must continue my journey in solitude.
The rest of the day? Gym. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board. Oh, I should continue packing. I will be bringing most of my remaining useless possessions to my storage unit tomorrow. I will also have to do the final cleaning of Chez Loser. Two more days to go. Then, I'm homeless.
Friday, June 16, 2006
Blame It on the Moon
I woke up in a state of panic this morning. When I calmed down, I realized that I did not have any coffee to brew. What a way to start the day! I pondered my situation. I've been trying to figure out why I cannot seem to divest anything. Each time I put something in the donation bag, I find that I remove it within a few minutes. Why can't I part with the crap? As it stands, the total volume of my remaining possessions will easily fill the truck. I may even have to make two trips to the storage unit. Here's a classic example. I have a pair of new Dockers® slacks and a fairly new pair of Rockport® shoes. I have had no need for either since my forced departure from the Asylum. So, why do I keep the crap? Aside from the fact that I cannot afford to replace them, I really don't have an answer.
I am now contemplating the idea of putting the Vienna Sausage on a permanent moratorium. In other words, I need to force the Vienna Sausage into early retirement. That way, I can rid myself of my massive hurdy-gurdy DVD library. I can also rid myself of my widescreen LCD tube and my DVD player. Since the babe situation is effectively moot, I really cannot see why I must placate the Vienna Sausage any further. If left to its own devices, the Vienna Sausage may become impotent. Then, I will have made another crucial step toward freedom.
Lori sent an e-mail with a lead for a rental in Manoa. I contacted the property manager by e-mail. The unit is a one-bedroom apartment in the Manoa area. Lori called when she arrived in town at 12:15pm. We walked to Chinatown to see if we could find a place that sold glass teapots. Nada. We ate lunch at the Mediterranean Café. The gyros are so good there. Lori mentioned that I had more gray hair since the last time. She attributed the latter to stress, given my current predicament. After we parted company, I restored my monk haircut at the the Hawai'i Institute of Hair Design. The rest of the day? Gym. Salmon and rice for dinner. Since I no longer have a microwave oven, I must prepare rice daily. I must put the frozen vegetables in the rice cooker to heat it. Just writing about this pathetic life-style makes me want to reach for the bottle. Yep, I'll be droppin' back a few more Gordon Biersch® Marzen breswkis. Then, I sit in front of the tube. I may take a few Nalu Board surf breaks as well.
The real adventure is about to begin. I have three days left in Chez Loser. Then, it's adios to Chez Loser and Kane'ohe.
I am now contemplating the idea of putting the Vienna Sausage on a permanent moratorium. In other words, I need to force the Vienna Sausage into early retirement. That way, I can rid myself of my massive hurdy-gurdy DVD library. I can also rid myself of my widescreen LCD tube and my DVD player. Since the babe situation is effectively moot, I really cannot see why I must placate the Vienna Sausage any further. If left to its own devices, the Vienna Sausage may become impotent. Then, I will have made another crucial step toward freedom.
Lori sent an e-mail with a lead for a rental in Manoa. I contacted the property manager by e-mail. The unit is a one-bedroom apartment in the Manoa area. Lori called when she arrived in town at 12:15pm. We walked to Chinatown to see if we could find a place that sold glass teapots. Nada. We ate lunch at the Mediterranean Café. The gyros are so good there. Lori mentioned that I had more gray hair since the last time. She attributed the latter to stress, given my current predicament. After we parted company, I restored my monk haircut at the the Hawai'i Institute of Hair Design. The rest of the day? Gym. Salmon and rice for dinner. Since I no longer have a microwave oven, I must prepare rice daily. I must put the frozen vegetables in the rice cooker to heat it. Just writing about this pathetic life-style makes me want to reach for the bottle. Yep, I'll be droppin' back a few more Gordon Biersch® Marzen breswkis. Then, I sit in front of the tube. I may take a few Nalu Board surf breaks as well.
The real adventure is about to begin. I have three days left in Chez Loser. Then, it's adios to Chez Loser and Kane'ohe.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Fragile Mental State
I woke up early this morning in state of high anxiety. I have four days left in Chez Loser. Then, I am homeless. I have made no effort to find a place. After my morning coffee, I decided to drop back a few Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis. I was feeling shitty in no time. I had called moms earlier to make tentative plans to visit. I drove to Hawai'i Kai at 11:20am. Moms arrived at the same time that I did. I unloaded the stuff. Moms made a nice lunch. We chatted for a bit. I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. I should also mention that I made my first utility assessment. My Sharp® microwave oven is history. Moms will give it to one of her friends.
I stopped off at Kahala Mall. I treated myself to a delicious Jamba Juice® smoothie. Then, I spent about an hour in Barnes & Noble®. After that, I drove to town. Traffic was heavy. I am able to park in the parking structure at a reduced rate after 5pm. As you can guess, I spent a little bit of time in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike had called and left a message. He invited me to dinner at Bea's place. I was still full from lunch, but I told him that I would drop by anyway.
I walked over to Bea's place at 6pm. I chatted with Pseudo-professor Mike until Bea returned at 6:30pm. They both persuaded me to stay for dinner. The meal was delicious. I was comforted in knowing that I will be house-sitting for the next three weeks. I should also be able to park the truck in the parking structure. That will buy me some time.
This was a psychologically grueling day for me. Actually, the last two weeks have been pretty bad. I feel as though I am on the verge of losing my mind. Nothing is making sense to me. It's not just the fact that I will be homeless in four days. I am just not understanding why I must spend so much dough just to live a "socially acceptable" life-style. There is so much "incongruence" that I am unable to fathom it much longer. My mind is going to snap.
I stopped off at Kahala Mall. I treated myself to a delicious Jamba Juice® smoothie. Then, I spent about an hour in Barnes & Noble®. After that, I drove to town. Traffic was heavy. I am able to park in the parking structure at a reduced rate after 5pm. As you can guess, I spent a little bit of time in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Mike had called and left a message. He invited me to dinner at Bea's place. I was still full from lunch, but I told him that I would drop by anyway.
I walked over to Bea's place at 6pm. I chatted with Pseudo-professor Mike until Bea returned at 6:30pm. They both persuaded me to stay for dinner. The meal was delicious. I was comforted in knowing that I will be house-sitting for the next three weeks. I should also be able to park the truck in the parking structure. That will buy me some time.
This was a psychologically grueling day for me. Actually, the last two weeks have been pretty bad. I feel as though I am on the verge of losing my mind. Nothing is making sense to me. It's not just the fact that I will be homeless in four days. I am just not understanding why I must spend so much dough just to live a "socially acceptable" life-style. There is so much "incongruence" that I am unable to fathom it much longer. My mind is going to snap.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
Freedom (Reprise)
Last night, I ended up driving to Safeway® specifically to purchase a 12-pack of Gordon Biersch® Marzen brewskis. I dropped back a couple of bottles to calm my nerves. What else can I do while I sit like a zombie in front of the tube?
I left for town on the bus at 9am. I have been feeling more and more lethargic as the day of impending homelessness rapidly approaches. I spent about an hour editing the "blog," if you can believe it. Then, I called up Hy-Pac, the storage company, again. There were a few small units available. So, I finally mustered up enough energy to ride the bus out there. The dump is located on Nimitz Highway just before the Sand Island Access Road intersection. I was in the area last when I had to order the new carpet for Chez Loser. The bus ride was not as bad as I had expected. Normally, the airport route is packed with fools. The staff at Hy-Pac was not particularly friendly. The storage units are cheap because they are dungy. I paid $68 for a larger unit. Fortunately, I brought the coupon for a free lock. A cheap $2 lock did little to placate the oversized cranium. The ride back to town on the bus was pleasant. A whole group of homeless people boarded at the bus stop near K-Mart®. The IHS shelter is right next door. As we passed the IHS, there were about 50 people laying on the grass outside.
The homeless stand out from the crowd. It has nothing to do with the fact that they are carrying all of their worldly possessions with them. Even in a bus full of non-homeless derelicts, the homeless stand out. Their clothes are different. The styles are usually several decades old. The colors are no longer in vogue. Even when well-groomed or clean-shaven, the homeless are conspicuous. Their skin is weather-worn and damaged. Wrinkles are clearly over-exaggerated, much of it from the hard life outdoors. I suspect that cheap booze and drugs are the other contributing factors.
I felt slightly relieved that the storage dilemma is over. I was saved in the eleventh hour again. The fact that I am paying big money to store my useless possessions is extremely irritating. When am I going to learn that the crap needs to go? It's a done deal now, but the issue will come up again. Next on my agenda is the search for a new mausoleum. Pseudo-professor Glenn gave me a lead on rentals at 100 Walina Street in Waikiki. Sandra, who works for the office overseeing the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, told me that there is an apartment for rent in the complex she resides in. Sandra and Joe, her husband, bought a small place there last year. In fact, Debbie is their realtor. Debbie sent e-mail stating that one of her clients is willing to rent a unit at Discovery Bay in Waikiki. The place is quite upscale, so I doubt that I can afford to live there.
I did nothing out of the ordinary for the rest of the afternoon. In other words, I did not spend any time looking for housing or following up on the leads given to me. So, the day was a wash. So, what will I be doing? Oh, you know. Gym. Piddle around on the computer in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Express bus back to Kane'ohe. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Drop back a few Gordon Biersch® brewskis. Nalu Board.
The Prison. While working out at the gym, I reflected on the prison that I have made for myself. The word, "prison," may be inappropriate, although I have established a number of constraints upon myself. The gym is a case in point. I now go to the gym every day. This was precipitated by the fact that I have to take my showers at the gym. Showers notwithstanding, my daily regimen at the gym has been continuous for 20-plus years. My belief in the health benefits of working out precludes any kind of absenteeism. I rarely will deviate from the regimen. Living healthy (with the exception of the Holy Water consumption) constrains me from eating crappy food. My diet is quite bland and limited.
The journal and now the "blog" have also locked me into another regimen. The Vienna Sausage has also constrained my life. You've seen the ads on the tube. "Over half the men over 40 suffer from Erectile Dysfunction (ED) ..." Well, unfortunately, the ol' lavahead is not one of them. His Vienna Sausage is working fine. Because of that, the ol' lavahead must maintain his vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library. And, obviously, he must have the tube and DVD player to view his library. If the Vienna Sausage had stopped working ten years ago, he would not need that crap.
Can freedom ever be realized? I'm beginning to think not. The human condition does not allow for it. In one form or another, we are locked in a prison. Even the mind is a prison. The weak and imperfect body is a prison. A decaying prison that locks us in debilitating spiral to the end. Have you noticed that, when you free yourself from one prison, then you are imprisoned in another? It's probably time for me lighten up on the issue of being imprisoned or enslaved. Both are a part of the human life cycle. Nothing can change that.
I left for town on the bus at 9am. I have been feeling more and more lethargic as the day of impending homelessness rapidly approaches. I spent about an hour editing the "blog," if you can believe it. Then, I called up Hy-Pac, the storage company, again. There were a few small units available. So, I finally mustered up enough energy to ride the bus out there. The dump is located on Nimitz Highway just before the Sand Island Access Road intersection. I was in the area last when I had to order the new carpet for Chez Loser. The bus ride was not as bad as I had expected. Normally, the airport route is packed with fools. The staff at Hy-Pac was not particularly friendly. The storage units are cheap because they are dungy. I paid $68 for a larger unit. Fortunately, I brought the coupon for a free lock. A cheap $2 lock did little to placate the oversized cranium. The ride back to town on the bus was pleasant. A whole group of homeless people boarded at the bus stop near K-Mart®. The IHS shelter is right next door. As we passed the IHS, there were about 50 people laying on the grass outside.
The homeless stand out from the crowd. It has nothing to do with the fact that they are carrying all of their worldly possessions with them. Even in a bus full of non-homeless derelicts, the homeless stand out. Their clothes are different. The styles are usually several decades old. The colors are no longer in vogue. Even when well-groomed or clean-shaven, the homeless are conspicuous. Their skin is weather-worn and damaged. Wrinkles are clearly over-exaggerated, much of it from the hard life outdoors. I suspect that cheap booze and drugs are the other contributing factors.
I felt slightly relieved that the storage dilemma is over. I was saved in the eleventh hour again. The fact that I am paying big money to store my useless possessions is extremely irritating. When am I going to learn that the crap needs to go? It's a done deal now, but the issue will come up again. Next on my agenda is the search for a new mausoleum. Pseudo-professor Glenn gave me a lead on rentals at 100 Walina Street in Waikiki. Sandra, who works for the office overseeing the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill, told me that there is an apartment for rent in the complex she resides in. Sandra and Joe, her husband, bought a small place there last year. In fact, Debbie is their realtor. Debbie sent e-mail stating that one of her clients is willing to rent a unit at Discovery Bay in Waikiki. The place is quite upscale, so I doubt that I can afford to live there.
I did nothing out of the ordinary for the rest of the afternoon. In other words, I did not spend any time looking for housing or following up on the leads given to me. So, the day was a wash. So, what will I be doing? Oh, you know. Gym. Piddle around on the computer in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Express bus back to Kane'ohe. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Drop back a few Gordon Biersch® brewskis. Nalu Board.
The Prison. While working out at the gym, I reflected on the prison that I have made for myself. The word, "prison," may be inappropriate, although I have established a number of constraints upon myself. The gym is a case in point. I now go to the gym every day. This was precipitated by the fact that I have to take my showers at the gym. Showers notwithstanding, my daily regimen at the gym has been continuous for 20-plus years. My belief in the health benefits of working out precludes any kind of absenteeism. I rarely will deviate from the regimen. Living healthy (with the exception of the Holy Water consumption) constrains me from eating crappy food. My diet is quite bland and limited.
The journal and now the "blog" have also locked me into another regimen. The Vienna Sausage has also constrained my life. You've seen the ads on the tube. "Over half the men over 40 suffer from Erectile Dysfunction (ED) ..." Well, unfortunately, the ol' lavahead is not one of them. His Vienna Sausage is working fine. Because of that, the ol' lavahead must maintain his vast hurdy-gurdy DVD library. And, obviously, he must have the tube and DVD player to view his library. If the Vienna Sausage had stopped working ten years ago, he would not need that crap.
Can freedom ever be realized? I'm beginning to think not. The human condition does not allow for it. In one form or another, we are locked in a prison. Even the mind is a prison. The weak and imperfect body is a prison. A decaying prison that locks us in debilitating spiral to the end. Have you noticed that, when you free yourself from one prison, then you are imprisoned in another? It's probably time for me lighten up on the issue of being imprisoned or enslaved. Both are a part of the human life cycle. Nothing can change that.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Mausoleum
I left for town at 9am on the bus. I first stopped off at the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Pseudo-professor Glenn arrived right after me. We chatted for a bit. Then, he gave me a list of possible places to look for rental housing. I walked to Bank Of Hawai'i and made my last mortgage payment. I also dropped off more escrow paperwork at Old Republic Title.
Lori called to let me know that she had to cancel our surfing plans on Thursday. We'll most likely meet on Friday for lunch instead. Not a problem. There will be plenty of time for surfing. I also gave her a short rundown of my current housing dilemma. The rest of the day was the usual routine. Gym. Chez Loser. Canned salmon and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
In my fragile mental state, I've become more helpless and quite frozen in inaction. The only proactive move that I've made is to query friends and acquaintances about possible leads to rentals. There has been much more sympathy than I expected, although that was not my motivation. Lori has offered me a place to stay for a little while, if I need it. The director overseeing the faculty computer room has offered to let me use his parking pass to the parking structure while he is gone for a week or so.
I have made no effort to end my housing dilemma. I have yet to call any of the listings in the paper. Part of it is because of my chronic phone phobia. The real annoyance is that I know how I will treated like a beggar by these slumlords. The only real progress that I've made so far is the implementation of the utility scale in assessing my possessions for divestiture. It's all quite insane.
I would assume that, if I had a stronger personal definition of what a "home" should be, then I would have quickly snapped into action to find a place. What exactly is a home? Ever since I was homeless, that question has stuck in my mind. For the most part, all I see people are people watching the tube. That's all I do in my home. So, what's the difference between a home and a mausoleum? The tube is essentially embalming fluid for the mind.
Just as I was starting to think about the viability of "camping," I found an article in the paper about the pandemic homeless crisis on O'ahu. "Hundreds of campsites dominate the view across beaches from Nanakuli to Kea'au, in effect turning the 16-mile coastline into the "tent city" residents wanted to avoid ..." We are going to experience a scaled-down version of the Hoover years. Incidentally, rents have not come down. As a matter of fact, rents are increasing as we speak. Home prices are also increasing, which means that the housing market in Hawai'i is picking up again. Who knew?
Lori called to let me know that she had to cancel our surfing plans on Thursday. We'll most likely meet on Friday for lunch instead. Not a problem. There will be plenty of time for surfing. I also gave her a short rundown of my current housing dilemma. The rest of the day was the usual routine. Gym. Chez Loser. Canned salmon and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
In my fragile mental state, I've become more helpless and quite frozen in inaction. The only proactive move that I've made is to query friends and acquaintances about possible leads to rentals. There has been much more sympathy than I expected, although that was not my motivation. Lori has offered me a place to stay for a little while, if I need it. The director overseeing the faculty computer room has offered to let me use his parking pass to the parking structure while he is gone for a week or so.
I have made no effort to end my housing dilemma. I have yet to call any of the listings in the paper. Part of it is because of my chronic phone phobia. The real annoyance is that I know how I will treated like a beggar by these slumlords. The only real progress that I've made so far is the implementation of the utility scale in assessing my possessions for divestiture. It's all quite insane.
I would assume that, if I had a stronger personal definition of what a "home" should be, then I would have quickly snapped into action to find a place. What exactly is a home? Ever since I was homeless, that question has stuck in my mind. For the most part, all I see people are people watching the tube. That's all I do in my home. So, what's the difference between a home and a mausoleum? The tube is essentially embalming fluid for the mind.
Just as I was starting to think about the viability of "camping," I found an article in the paper about the pandemic homeless crisis on O'ahu. "Hundreds of campsites dominate the view across beaches from Nanakuli to Kea'au, in effect turning the 16-mile coastline into the "tent city" residents wanted to avoid ..." We are going to experience a scaled-down version of the Hoover years. Incidentally, rents have not come down. As a matter of fact, rents are increasing as we speak. Home prices are also increasing, which means that the housing market in Hawai'i is picking up again. Who knew?
Monday, June 12, 2006
Kamehameha Day 2006
I woke up early this morning with no idea what I was going to do for the day. Because of the holiday, the Diploma Mill was closed. Fortunately, moms called to arrange for us to meet for lunch at Kahala Mall. I decided to drive to town, so I departed at 10am. I met moms at our usual meeting spot on the benches just at the entrance to the mall. We chatted for a bit. Then, we ate lunch at Panda Express®. After lunch, we sat outside on the benches again and chatted. I gave moms a ride home. I stopped in to say hello to my bro and his family. They were busy cleaning up the "warehouse." They were also not too friendly. No surprise. So, I left.
I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. Later, I drove to Kahala Mall. I really didn't have anything to do there. The mall was completely packed. I was amazed to see so many people out buying all kinds of stuff. Where are they getting the dough? I bought a Jamba Juice® smoothie. That was the extent of my spending spree. I spent about an hour at Barnes & Noble®, which was quite enjoyable. Then, I returned to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
Incidentally, Lori called this morning. She wants to go surfing on Thursday. So, tentatively, we are planning to hit the beach. If that doesn't pan out, then we will probably just have lunch at The Shack. I'm not sure if I can handle surfing anymore, what with my advanced decrepitude and all. Not that I was any good to begin with. Sheesh!
Needless to say, my anxiety is increasing exponentially by the day. I have done absolutely nothing about finding a place to live. I have not secured a storage unit for my crap either. I just don't feel like calling all of those slumlords and begging for a place to live. I am rapidly approaching the eleventh hour.
I did my workout at the gym in Koko Marina. Later, I drove to Kahala Mall. I really didn't have anything to do there. The mall was completely packed. I was amazed to see so many people out buying all kinds of stuff. Where are they getting the dough? I bought a Jamba Juice® smoothie. That was the extent of my spending spree. I spent about an hour at Barnes & Noble®, which was quite enjoyable. Then, I returned to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Nalu Board.
Incidentally, Lori called this morning. She wants to go surfing on Thursday. So, tentatively, we are planning to hit the beach. If that doesn't pan out, then we will probably just have lunch at The Shack. I'm not sure if I can handle surfing anymore, what with my advanced decrepitude and all. Not that I was any good to begin with. Sheesh!
Needless to say, my anxiety is increasing exponentially by the day. I have done absolutely nothing about finding a place to live. I have not secured a storage unit for my crap either. I just don't feel like calling all of those slumlords and begging for a place to live. I am rapidly approaching the eleventh hour.
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Economically Disenfranchised
When I returned to Chez Loser yesterday, all was quiet. I was able to enjoy my sumptuous meal consisting of canned tuna and rice. Debbie, my realtor, called and left a message about a new listing in Punaho'u Gardens. After that, I vegetated all evening in front of the tube.
I woke up early this morning. I had nothing to do, as usual. I could have done more packing, but I just didn't feel like it. At 10:30am, I decided to drop back the last two bottles of Red Hook® India Pale Ale. I departed for town at 11:10am. My bladder was about ready to explode when I arrived in town on the bus. Fortunately, the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill was already open. I was able to "drain the lizard" before composing the "blog."
I have done nothing about my housing crisis. Instead, I just continue to procrastinate, all the while hoping that I will be saved in the eleventh hour. The thought of ending up in another tomb (read: mausoleum) just sickens me. If I don't nip this kind of thinking in the bud soon, the spiral downward into eternal dereliction will start here.
I read this tidbit in the paper this morning: "The Federal Reserve's latest Survey of Consumer Finance puts the average, or mean, net worth of Americans at $448,200, including both Bill Gates and the panhandler in Seattle. The median net worth -- the assets minus debts of the family smack in the middle of the highest-to-lowest list -- was $93,100 in 2004." Roughly half of the US population (about 148 million people) have a net worth less than or equal to the median value. The goals of the money changers have been met. The middle class has been divided into the "haves" and the have-nots." As always, I'm on the outside looking in. I'm part of the growing number of the "economically disenfranchised." That the "politically correct" way of saying that I am a "po' boy." Frankly, I am sick and tired of the "politically correct" movement. It's about as useless as the "self-esteem" movement.
By two o' clock, I felt really shitty. The pain in my gut is probably the result of my liver giving out. Nonetheless, I went to the gym. I did my usual cardio workout. I still felt nauseous after the gym. I spent some more time in the student computer lab. I mummified the idea about stopping by Punaho'u Gardens. I cannot afford any of these places. I'm economically disenfranchised.
The rest of the day? You know the drill. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Safeway®. Nalu Board. Sheesh!
I woke up early this morning. I had nothing to do, as usual. I could have done more packing, but I just didn't feel like it. At 10:30am, I decided to drop back the last two bottles of Red Hook® India Pale Ale. I departed for town at 11:10am. My bladder was about ready to explode when I arrived in town on the bus. Fortunately, the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill was already open. I was able to "drain the lizard" before composing the "blog."
I have done nothing about my housing crisis. Instead, I just continue to procrastinate, all the while hoping that I will be saved in the eleventh hour. The thought of ending up in another tomb (read: mausoleum) just sickens me. If I don't nip this kind of thinking in the bud soon, the spiral downward into eternal dereliction will start here.
I read this tidbit in the paper this morning: "The Federal Reserve's latest Survey of Consumer Finance puts the average, or mean, net worth of Americans at $448,200, including both Bill Gates and the panhandler in Seattle. The median net worth -- the assets minus debts of the family smack in the middle of the highest-to-lowest list -- was $93,100 in 2004." Roughly half of the US population (about 148 million people) have a net worth less than or equal to the median value. The goals of the money changers have been met. The middle class has been divided into the "haves" and the have-nots." As always, I'm on the outside looking in. I'm part of the growing number of the "economically disenfranchised." That the "politically correct" way of saying that I am a "po' boy." Frankly, I am sick and tired of the "politically correct" movement. It's about as useless as the "self-esteem" movement.
By two o' clock, I felt really shitty. The pain in my gut is probably the result of my liver giving out. Nonetheless, I went to the gym. I did my usual cardio workout. I still felt nauseous after the gym. I spent some more time in the student computer lab. I mummified the idea about stopping by Punaho'u Gardens. I cannot afford any of these places. I'm economically disenfranchised.
The rest of the day? You know the drill. Return to Chez Loser. Beans and rice for dinner. Tube. Safeway®. Nalu Board. Sheesh!
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