Sunday Reckoning

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday has drifted off into deep space. I followed the urban nomad itinerary down to the precise minute. I did my usual workout at the gym. A former Diploma Mill student from five years ago, Israel, happened to be in the gym. He apparently recognized me. We chatted for a few minutes. I was also able to catch a glance of the hottie gym trainer. Baby was looking mighty fine. I was back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 3:45pm. The remainder of the day? We all know the drill. Sheesh!

The very quick and rapidly deteriorating set of events in Georgia and South Ossetia had me scurrying for more information. Georgia had apparently launched an attack on separatist South Ossetia just a few days ago. The Federation of Russia has now intervened and is pushing the Georgian military out of South Ossetia. South Ossetia is, in reality, very distinctly dissimilar to Georgia. Its people are distant offshoots of the Persians. Their language is very close to Farsi. However, there is a lot more to the crisis than meets the eye here. Georgia has been wooed by the empire to join NATO, which is a thorn in Russia's side. Then, there is the issue of oil, specifically the Baku-Tbilisi-Ceyhan pipeline which is routed through Georgia. The question remains: why did Georgia launch an offensive against South Ossetia and Abkhazia in the first place?

What's becoming clearer is that the world is heading toward the Big One, a major confrontation pitting the "West" (through its surrogate, the US empire) against Russia and China. The proxy wars that we are witnessing in the Middle East, Africa, and the Caucasus are simply "window dressing" to cover for the real war, the upcoming resource wars. In other words, the Peak Oil Wars.

By the way, I am very impressed by Cindy Sheehan's tenacity in finally putting herself on the ballot in Cali. The event will probably mark the most interesting aspect of the entire November (s)election.

Ka-Ching!

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day has flowed like water under a bridge. The urban nomad itinerary was executed like clockwork. I spent three hours in the inner courtyard of the library. Then, I walked to the gym to perform my usual workout. I was back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 5pm. The highlight of the day was when I heard the following announcement broadcast on the public address system at the library: "Will the owner of the green shopping cart parked at the entrance please move it." Says it all, doesn't it?

Another evening of the same ol' shit lies ahead. I will enjoy another less-than-hearty veggie "rations" meal. Then, I will spend the rest of the evening with my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Interspersed between computer time will be odd jobs such as cleaning my squalid room with my humble dustpan and brush. A whole week of gale force winds has made the latter task a nightmare. There are no other options for the urban nomad. I could make the jaunt to Kahala Mall, but "window shopping" is such a depressing activity. The urban nomad's mind cannot be entertained by perusing useless junk. And, since my discovery of the library, I rarely find the need to visit Barnes & Noble®.

I could return to the malignant days of watching the tube or renting DVDs. Yet, how much more benign can an activity be? Entertainment is really just a series of repetitive themes all offered through expensive venues. Just as with the presidential (s)election, we are left choosing between the variety of lesser evils. Nothing is satisfying, much in the way fast food barely fulfills an appetite. I have no idea why the masses tolerate such mediocrity. Sadly, our whole social infrastructure is based on interconnected mediocrity. To fully function in society, an individual must be fully engaged and versed in all forms of mediocrity. We have established mediocre means of communication, which has finally displaced the higher level cognitive communications once utilized by humanity. To not debase communications to the primal level means ostracism and alienation (i.e., the ultimate pariah state).

I have also become sickened by the fact that every single one of our daily decisions is purchase-oriented. All day long, I logged my various decisions, only to discover that all of my vital decisions are based upon product choices and ability to pay. Our lives are all about total money transactions. Nothing more, nothing less. And, there we have it ... our everyday existence is based upon trivia and money transactions. Where is the meaning? Little wonder why humanity has become so debauched and so detached from the harsh reality that awaits us.

In order for consumerism and materialism to prevail, the human thinking process had to be sequestered into the unconscious. Analytical and critical thinking had to be displaced by Pavlovian responses (induced by Pavlovian training). When we hear the bell ... Ka-Ching!¹ ... then we snap into action. Well, my friends, here is tonight's reading assignment: "Twenty Nine Reasons People Need To Pull Their Heads Out Of The Sand," by Wanda Marie Woodward (on the CounterCurrents site).

Ka-Ching!¹, an imitation of the sound made by a cash register (definition courtesy Urban Dictionary site).

Pariah Redux

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai at 8:30am. Moms was home when I arrived. Moms was outside in the yard doing some gardening. So, I spent a little time grinding down the callouses on the soles of my feet with my trusty pumice stone. Moms and I made a quick jaunt to Foodland in Koko Marina. For lunch, moms broiled a salmon steak. We also ate half of a lamp-baked chicken, fresh vegetables, and rice. For dessert, moms served Foremost® vanilla ice cream. I chatted with moms until 1pm.

I was not able to find shaded parking for my Nissan® Frontier truck in the Koko Marina parking structure. I parked on the upper level near Taco Bell®. I was immediately reminded of my latest bout of Montezuma's Revenge. I walked to the gym. I did my usual workout. Then, I made a final stop at Foodland to restock my food supply. I did not splurge on any treats. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 4pm, just in time to perform the dreaded laundry chores.

I was struck by a high level of despair all day, possibly due to another sleepless night. Or, maybe I have come to the realization that I am at the end of the line, so to speak. Or, perhaps at the "end of my rope." I have not been able to reconcile the meaninglessness of my existence, an issue that I have been pondering for several weeks. Naturally, I have been too psychologically dispossessed to chronicle the affair in the "blog." There is no cure for my malady. I am at odds with a society that possesses values diametrically opposed to my own. I mean, what exactly defines society-at-large except consumerism and materialism? There is just nothing left that is not commercialized in one way or another. Even human interaction has been "commodified." I am essentially living a "pay 'n go" life-style just like the myriad satanic gargoyles around me. There is no escape. When I refuse to "pay 'n go," then I become a non-entity. The latter is the true definition of the common phrase, "I have no life."

In the "Golden Years," the concept of a "pay 'n go" life-style becomes ludicrous. "Pay 'n go" is an infantile concept because its basis is perpetual youth, or should I say, perpetual adolescence. Yet, when the skin wrinkles, the posture hunches, and the walk is stunted, there is no youth. The flashy life-style, the "pay 'n go" kiosks of culture, sport, religion, politics, academia, and entertainment clash with the shriveled hands of time. The "fountain of youth" is not flowing with Botox® or gym memberships.

What then is the answer? Is the exodus the way out? I, for one, do not know for sure. However, anything that sidesteps this cheapened form of life that humans have come to value would be an improvement. When I made a decent wage as a wage slave, I was blinded. I earned enough money to transact myself in and around the "pay 'n go" system. I could purchase a home, which I did twice. I could purchase a 4000-pound motorized chair (read: automobile), which I did. I could engage in a variety of social activities, which I did. I had to plunk down the dinero, however. No dinero, no nothing. No tickey, no laundry.

Once the dineros stopped flowing, my whole personal infrastructure collapsed. Not surprising, to say the least. The "pay 'n go" system has made us all whores. We sell ourselves. We also buy slaves of various kinds. Money buys the accoutrements that determines class. Once I was stripped of my financial net worth, I was left with only one class option. I was invited to the same class as the homeless and the destitute. The bottom of the barrel, as it were. I may appear to be jaded by the unfortunate circumstances, but I am not. I can only say that I have had many moments of difficulty in dealing with the isolation, alienation, ostracism, and dichotomy that I have experienced as a result. I am a man without a nation, without a society, and without an identity. I am a non-entity.

Am I saying that I made a big mistake? No, absolutely not. I am simply stating that the path leading to the exodus is a singular one. There is no camaraderie because no one else is choosing to "opt out" of the "pay 'n go" debauchery. There are moments of tremendous angst and self-doubt. There are no reassurances from anyone. In the end, one becomes a pariah, an urban nomad.

Nomadic Mundanity

Another homeless guy emulation ... errr, I mean ... urban nomad kind-of-a-day has sashayed off-stage. The same routine, the same urban nomad itinerary, was followed. I spent only two hours at the library. I departed an hour earlier to accommodate the restoration of my monk haircut at the Institute of Hair Design. Leo, one of the instructors, told me that the institute is relocating to Nu'uanu Avenue next month. I completed my town experience with my usual workout at the gym. Then, I magically reappeared at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 5pm. Well, not exactly. I had to endure another excruciating bus ride with a number of troglodytes. The evening? Same ol' shit.

Aside from the homeless, the library is patronized by quite a few senior citizens of varying decrepitude. For me, observing the latter is not for the purpose of entertainment. I see my immediate future. So many of them are incapacitated by old age maladies. They have shrunk in size, or are bloated with blubber. They walk with a hobbling gait or need some sort of prosthetics to get by. They no longer stand upright. Their skeletal structures have long ago given in to gravity. It is hard for me to not think about senior citizen issues. Life is too short.

I have continued my research about Iran. Currently, I am reading the book, Persian Mirrors," by Elaine Sciolino. I might add that Sciolino completely ignores the time period that Abolhassan Bani-Sadr was President of Iran. When Sciolino adheres to chronology, rather than delve into why Iran cannot be more "Americanized," her testimony coincides roughly with Bani-Sadr. My focus as of late has been the curious dichotomy between the empire (and its proxy, Zionist Israel) and Iran. At one time, the notorious Shah had forged an alliance with Israel, which makes sense because both nations are the only non-Arabic ones in the Middle East. Obviously, that alliance fell through once the Islamic Republic was established and the Shah exiled.

Curiously, though, Ayatollah Rohollah Khomeini had struck several deals with the Reagan administration during the eight-year Iran-Iraq War. One deal involved the delayed release of the American Embassy hostages in order to secure Carter's defeat. According to Bani-Sadr, Khomeini was essentially a Reagan supporter. The most notorious deal, of course, led to the Iran-Contra scandal.

The punchline is that arm shipments to Iran were facilitated through Israel. The war itself, according to Bani-Sadr, was drawn out for so long because Khomeini wanted to consolidate his power. Khomeini was succeeded by the much more moderate and less charismatic Ayatollah Sayyid Ali Khamanei. Yet, so far, I have not made any determination about why Iran came into the crosshairs of the NeoConmen. It's about as big a mystery as why Iraq was also a target, that is, unless we accept oil and strategic access as the true reasons.

Montezuma's Revenge (Reprise)

"If people can't see how this nation is teetering on the precipice of financial ruin and dragging the rest of this planet down with us as we destroy our ecology, too ... and if people don't realize how desperate our situation is, then I must say, that's horseshit!" -- Cindy Sheehan, from the article titled, "This is Horseshit," on Counterpunch

Cindy Sheehan is angry, and so am I, for that matter. Read her article and see why. Although, can any of us expect any change? Don't count on it.

Yesterday, the Fed kept short-term interest rates at two percent. The stock market came out to party. "The bad times are over," the satanic gargoyles are shouting. The Fed really wants to lower short-term rates to zero percent. Debt is what is maintaining the so-called "American Dream." Lots and lots of debt is required to grease the squeaky wheel. The Fed cannot raise interest rates for another reason. As long as the possibility of an incursion into Iran exists, the rate ceiling (i.e., "war level") will remain at two percent. There are also rumors that some currency jiggling is occurring to temporarily strengthen the dollar. Hence, oil prices have been dropping as a result. The reason? The presidential (s)election is coming up.

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day began with a trek to the Aina Haina library. After I alighted the bus, I walked through the parking lot of the Aina Haina Shopping Center. A dumbass chick in a "soccer mom" minivan, gabbing away on her cell phone, failed to yield the right-of-way to the pedestrian urban nomad. He then punched the rear panel of the "soccer mom" minivan as it cut right in front of him. The library, unfortunately, maintains the air conditioning ambient temperature at 65^o F. Thus, it is impossible to remain inside the library for longer than 1.5 hours.

I rode the bus back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Actually, I boarded the wrong bus. I had to alight before the bus chugged deep into Upper Aina Haina. Fortunately, I was able to walk back to the main street to board the proper bus. I was back in my squalid room by noon. With so much time on my hands, I decided to begin another installment of the "Great Purge." I gathered some minor crap and threw it in the rubbish can. I finally flattened the cardboard shipping box for my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Why was I keeping that crap? I will throw it into the recycler later.

I drove to Koko Marina in Hawai'i Kai at 1pm. I was able to find shaded parking for my Nissan® Frontier truck in the parking structure. I walked to the gym. Once again, I leisurely went through my usual workout. I enjoyed a long hot shower. For a treat, I stopped by Taco Bell® and ordered two Cheesy Bean and Rice Burritos. I was able to sit in the quiet dining room and savor every bite.

After my snack, I sat on one of the tables overlooking the Koko Marina parking lot. I was enjoying the benign activity until three raucous high school punks sat at the next table. The young chick in the group was smoking a cigarette, of which the carcinogenic smoke blew in my direction. They found an empty shopping cart to ride around in, which immediately attracted the security guards.

I decided that the time was right for me to complete my mission. I walked to Foodland to procure a small container of Kim Chee Imitation Crab Poke, a carton of milk, and a banana. I drove back to Slob Manor. Within a few minutes, I suffered from Montezuma's Revenge courtesy Taco Bell®. What a sad way to end my fairly decent day of urban nomad fun. Well, we already know the drill for the evening, eh? Same ol' shit. Incidentally, I had to transfer only $150 from my investment accounts to my local bank yesterday. Thank goodness.

Third World Home

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day dragged on and on toward its conclusion. I did not sleep well last night. Once again, I was plagued with various bizarre dreams which woke me up about every hour or so. Naturally, I had to "drain the lizard" with each occurrence. The continuation of the nightly débâcles has taken a toll on the oversized cranium, both physically and mentally. I yearn for a solution, but no reprieve is forthcoming.

I spent three hours in the inner courtyard of the library. I lapsed in and out of a coma between sporadic readings of the book, "Persian Mirrors," by Elaine Sciolino. A homeless guy sat at the next table. He slept the whole time that I was there. Then, I did my usual workout at the gym. After my workout and shower, I walked to the bus stop deeper in Chinatown. In fact, I have been frequenting that particular bus stop on the weekdays for several weeks now. There was an elderly Chinese lady in a wheelchair situated right at the corner of Hotel Street and Nu'uanu Avenue, right next to the bus stop. There was a peculiar odor that smelled like raw sewage and rotting flesh. Hundreds of flies were buzzing about. The people at the bus stop were making comments and looking around. Finally, when I sat on the bench a few feet away, the smell was no longer discernible. A Pacific Islander chick, who was sitting on the same bench with her daughter, turned to me and said that the smell was originating from the senior citizen in the wheelchair. "She made doo-doo all over herself."

Our respective buses arrived shortly afterward, and we all departed. On the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I realized that I did nothing about the situation. Of course, I don't carry my cell phone with me. If I did, I could have called 9-1-1. In any case, I suspect elder abuse, possibly a caretaking relative abandoned the disabled senior citizen after she soiled herself. I was back in Slob Manor by 5pm. The urban nomad's routine for the evening will be the same ol' shit.

Do you feel as though you just do not fit into the screenplay of life that you have been cast in? The urban nomad knows that he does not fit in at all. Whenever he looks around himself, he only sees an artificial "standard of living" that is unsustainable at best. There is no logic or reason to the excesses of the masses. The maximization of comfort and pleasure appear to be the only underlying theme. Observing the squalor of Chinatown, however, exposed the urban nomad to the other side of the equation. That's the Third World right here at home.

Electronic Mumbo-Jumbo

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai found moms and I facilitating the usual rounds to Longs® in Kuapa Kai and Foodland in Koko Marina. Beef Curry plate lunches were procured at Loco Moco. Foremost® coffee ice cream was served up for dessert. As always, I chatted with moms after lunch.

I was able to find shaded parking for my Nissan® Frontier truck in the Koko Marina parking structure. I walked to the gym to do my usual cardio workout. Afterward, I made my final stop at Foodland to purchase Ahi Poke, Kamaboko Poke, and a banana. My special treat was a cold Icee® beverage. I was back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 3:30pm. With little else to do, I performed the dreaded laundry chores. The rest of the day and the evening will follow the usual urban nomad script (i.e., same ol' shit).

I inadvertently rediscovered my Palm® TX last night. I had stuffed it into my storage gym bag a while back. Alas, my Palm® TX has seen better days. I connected to the wireless base station. Using the Blazer Web browser, I made the shocking realization that the latter can no longer render most of the sites on the Net. Essentially, my Palm® TX has become a $299 paperweight. I could also use it as a doorstop. The only advantage that the TX has over a few other comparable devices is its ability to create, view, and edit Microsoft® Office documents. Of course, all of the Windows Mobile® devices can do that and more. What can I say?

Well, at least my Palm® TX is small enough to meet the urban nomad's mendicant specifications. Another useless item is my Nokia® cell phone. After receiving two nondescript text messages yesterday, I went through the phone's configuration profile and screwed up as many of the settings as possible. I only want the phone function to be operational. I need no other features. Lord knows, I can hardly wait for the day that I am not at all dependent on those useless electronic gadgets. Sheesh!

Nomadic Monotony

Another evening of computer fun for the urban nomad has passed. He listened to several House Music mixes by Lady Liquid on the Pure House Music site. How can a monk have so much fun without ever leaving his squalid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing)? Well, the urban nomad explained all of that yesterday.

And, yet another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday has drifted into the sandstorm of life. Not surprisingly, I followed the former homeless guy itinerary to the most minute detail. Of course, I did my usual workout at the gym. The highlight of the whole day was when I saw the hottie gym trainer. Baby was working with a gym member just a few feet away for over 20 minutes. To say that baby is a hottie would be an understatement. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor by 3:45pm to follow the usual urban nomad agenda (read: same ol' shit) that goes on into the night.

I continue to eat my veggie "rations" for dinner every night. Of course, the dinner is not entirely vegetarian since I also include side dishes of Ahi Poke, Kamaboko Poke, and Imitation Crab Poke. Last week, I almost gave in to temptation and purchased a bag of greasy potato or tortilla chips. Fortunately, I refrained. Such foods contain the carcinogen, acrylamide. It's fun to learn that we have more food to add to the poison list, eh?

Well, so far, I have been able to keep my finances in check. My liquid assets, as reported on the 1st of every month, have remained stable even amidst the various financial crises that I have endured. Expenses, as reported on the 3rd of every month, are slightly down. My net worth, at least on paper, has been increasing slightly. I cannot be certain how long any of that will last. I am just thankful that I have been able to avert financial calamity for over a year now.

Merry-Go-Round

Once again, the urban nomad (read: ol' lavahead) spent the entire evening at his computer. He listened to the new "Summer Daze" mix by Velvety (also Home with House) on the Pure House Music site. He also monitored the "blog" activity using the Feedjit® Live Feed instead of that dreadful Sitemeter. What's really sad is that the whole world is coming apart at the seams while clowns like the ol' lavahead are fretting about Sitemeter. Sheesh!

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day commenced with the obligatory bus ride. Did I plan to go to Hawai'i Kai or downtown? That was the big question, which was only resolved when I decided not to alight in Aina Haina. I spent three hours in the inner courtyard of the library. Then, I did my usual workout at the gym. Heck, the routine is basically the same as the homeless guy emulation. I was back in Slob Manor (read: rental housing) by 5pm. The evening? Same ol' shit.

I hope that there is no misconception that perhaps I am living a miserable life. Yes, the urban nomad life-style is quite boring at times. However, I have a lot more piece of mind than ever before. I could use a little more financial security, though. I have briefly mentioned that intrusive memories have come back to haunt the oversized cranium. I did not provide much in the way of detail. I continue to look back at my life, but I find nothing that has been really worthy of much consideration. When I was younger, I sought my "independence" and my "freedom." I put myself through a lot of crap just to accomplish those lofty goals. And, in the end, even those memories are worthless.

I have finally come to discover that I did not miss out on anything. My life experiences are on the same plane of reality as reading a book. And, what exactly will I take with me into old age? Fading memories? What is that worth? It may seem as though I am forsaking the rest of my limited lifetime. I have nothing more that I want to accomplish. I am not seeking new friendships or any relationship with babes. That's all water under the bridge. All I really desire is to remove myself from the so-called "mainstream." I do not want to be dependent on anyone or anything, and vice versa.

Essentially, I have no faith in humanity. Humans are too consumed by worship at the temple of the sinister kahuna. They have become satanic gargoyles, infected with the epidemic of the "seven sins." And, frankly, humanity is running out of wiggle room for its mistakes. From this point forward, I want to live an unobtrusive life-style, one that borders on regained innocence. I certainly do not look forward to experiencing the secular Apocalypse, no less Armageddon. Yet, humanity is careening toward extinction with no remorse. For the sake of my own sanity, I have to get off that merry-go-round. It's moving so fast that it is going fly off of its spindle very soon.

By the way, Sitemeter was operational again. However, I decided to submit a cancellation request to terminate the service. I will not restore the tracking code. Most of the visitors to the "blog" are searching for pictures of hot chicks. Thus, keeping track of such useless visits is moot.

Panic on the Web

The urban nomad (read: ol' lavahead) spent the evening in his qualid room at Slob Manor (read: rental housing) listening to House Music on his beloved Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer. Is there anything else that gives meaning to his life? Really? No, not really.

I departed for Hawai'i Kai at 8:15am this morning. Moms was home when I arrived, but I had to spend more time on the neighbor's computer. At 10am, moms and I made a visit to Foodland in Koko Marina. That was our only stop. For lunch, moms served up map-baked chicken courtesy Foodland. For dessert, moms and I enjoyed Foremost® coffee ice cream. I chatted with moms until 1pm.

Then, I drove my Nissan® Frontier truck back to Koko Marina. I was fortunate to find shaded parking in the parking structure. I walked to the gym. I completed my usual workout. Then, I shopped for my own groceries at Foodland. By now, we all know what I purchased. I was back in my squalid room at Slob Manor by 4:30pm.

Incidentally, the Sitemeter Javascript tracking code is apparently wreaking havoc on quite a few Web sites including the Blogger® community. The currently dysfunctional code prevents Web pages from loading in Internet Explorer. Thus, I have temporarily disabled (i.e., "commented out") the offending scripting code that renders in the column at the right. There is apparently a major panic ensuing as of this posting. Readers may wish to inform the Web community of the problem and the solution. Because of the congestion on Blogger®, I will abridge this post.