Alternative Reality

I was on my way to Hawai'i Kai in my Nissan® Frontier truck at 7:45am this morning. I stopped off in Kuapa Kai to browse the selection of extremely cheap clocks at Longs® (to replace the intermittent Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock). I found one for $1.49 plus tax that is as tiny as a watch. I have not purchased it yet. I then procured a cup of Seattle's Best® Colombian coffee at Safeway®.

Later, moms and I ended up at Foodland in Koko Marina. For lunch, moms and I ate Saba Bento, half of a lamp-baked chicken, fresh vegetables, and rice. Moms served pumpkin pie for dessert. My nephew was home for "Furlough Friday." I gave him a ride to his friend's place after lunch. Then, I kept moms company until 1:30pm. The rest of the day was typical urban nomad. Obviously, nothing out of the ordinary transpired.

A few minutes after I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I heard a loud commotion downstairs. I heard the front door slam. I looked out the window and observed the landlord discarding the Indian guy's rotting concoction, including the pot, into the trash can. I giggled my ass off. That was one of the better landlord moments.

These are strange days, aren't they? By strange, I do not mean that there have been a proliferation of David Icke's shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials around. I simply mean that life has attained an ethereal ambiance about it. I am not certain about how to define reality. Therefore, I have compartmentalized my existence to only include events and substances that I can verify as real. For example, my Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock may have slipped into an alternative reality for 40 minutes yesterday. Therefore, I will have to divest it.

Incidentally, I had not checked the message boards in a few weeks. When I attempted to view the current forums, I discovered that nothing was there. Whoa! Apparently, ForumCo has finally gotten around to fulfilling the two termination requests that I had submitted many moons ago. Better late than never, I suppose. Or, the delay may have been part of an alternative reality. I'm not going to bother to set up another account. The "blog" itself is a lesson in antiquity, soon to be eternally lost in obscurity or an alternative reality.

Mind Food

The Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock (made in China) was 40 minutes behind, so I almost missed the bus. Fortunately, I noticed one of the Slob Manor (read: rental housing) residents driving off to work. He usually leaves at 8:40am. I checked the time on my Palm® TX. The time was 8:50am. Yikes! I quickly packed my gym bag and trudged to the bus stop. All the while I kept thinking that the days of the Advance Time Technologies wind-up clock are numbered ... just another urban nomad kind-of-a-day.

The main restrooms at Ala Moana Center are packed from early on. I have no idea why there are so many people in there who desperately need to take a dump. I had the choice of one open stall. The clown who was in there prior had urinated all over the seat. I had to clean the mess up with asswipe paper (i.e., toilet tissue). There are no toilet seat covers/shields available for the general public. So, as usual, I had to fashion a makeshift one with asswipe paper.

I had seen a well-dressed haole guy in his fifties at one of the sinks when I first entered the restroom. There was a shopping cart with a couple of backpacks and assorted luggage parked next to him. I did not equate one with the other until I was exiting. The haole guy was still there. He was shaving. In fact, most of the people in the restroom are either homeless or senior citizens or both.

The rest of the day was classic urban nomad. No details are necessary since we all know the drill already. As for the evening, we also know that drill, too. Say, what's that obnoxious smell in the Slob Manor kitchen?

"He's a nice guy, but he's filthy," the landlord had told me yesterday in referencing the Indian guy. Yeah, the pot with the Indian guy's rotting concoction is still sitting in the kitchen. And, the broken handheld shower head is still sitting in the bathtub in the second floor bathroom. Either the Indian guy has not taken a shower for two weeks, or he is showering somewhere else. Filthy is an understatement.

Have you perused some of David Icke's stuff? I say "stuff" for lack of a better descriptor. I am now perusing two of his books at the library. I found some of the information to be fascinating. The shape-shifting reptilian extraterrestrials, however, are outside my boundary of credibility at this point in time. I am not "reality shopping." Sadly, some of my own thoughts in the "blog" and the old journal have often paralleled Icke's theses. I could exclude the reptilians, but diatribes about Satan, satanic gargoyles, the sinister force, the sinister kahuna, Beelzebub et al. is pretty much the same.

I will say that Icke is absolutely correct in identifying that most of us are prisoners of the "system." And, he is absolutely correct by asserting that the prisoners keep each other in check. Conformity and group think are the most powerful self-debasing weapons in the prisoners' arsenal. Come to think of it, all human-made institutions (i.e., government, religion, commerce) are designed to keep the prisoners in check. In some respects, Icke is promoting the same kind of freedom that I have been seeking in the form of the exodus. Now, that's some food for thought.

No Stone Unturned

Should I delineate upon another urban nomad kind-of-a-day? Let's not bother, shall we? The only deviation from the standard routine was my brief jaunt to the Institute of Hair Design to restore my monk haircut. The hairstylist did an excellent job, by the way. I even had my eyebrows trimmed. As a senior citizen, I am keenly aware that eyebrows and nose hair grow uncontrollably until an unruly mess results. Take a good look at most senior citizens. Their eyebrows are bushy like a lawn hedge and their nose hair protrudes out of their nostrils like retro-rocket flames. Oh, the horror!

When I returned to Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I observed the landlord walking around the driveway. I tried to avoid the landlord, but I was not successful. The topic of our discussion? The Indian guy's rotting concoction that has been sitting in a pot on the counter in the kitchen for about two weeks now. The landlord was quite irate. However, an astute observer may be wondering why the landlord does not simply confront the guilty party himself. I have asked that question repeatedly subsequent to the discussion.

As I venture into the unknown realm of another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening, I become fearful of what's ahead. Really? No, not really. It's always the same ol' shit. I'll be doing a little research about David Icke for no apparent reason. Well, actually, I was quite entertained by one his books at the library. Yes, I am talking about the David Ickes, the guy who has revealed the true nature of the "Illuminati," the reptilian extraterrestrials who have created the bloodline which rules the world. Mind you, in my quest for the truth, I can leave no stone unturned. I'll leave it at that.

Caffeinated Coma

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day ... obviously nothing to write home about. I am spending too much time sipping on ABC Store Kona-blend coffee in the Makai Market at Ala Moana Center. Really? No, not really. I'm there for about an hour, but I must admit that the time spent is the most enjoyable part of the day. I sit at a table all by myself. Then, I take my time sipping the coffee. I look around at the same drab kiosks that are in the vicinity. I observe the myriad senior citizens for a hint of my immediate future. Once in a while, a few young hotties stroll through the area. Sometimes a homeless person or two would wander in and out of the place.

When I was younger (and more foolish), I never considered going anywhere alone or loitering somewhere by myself. Now, it's a way of life. At the Makai Market, I see people of all ages who arrive by themselves and sit at a table to wait for friends or family to arrive. They seem very uncomfortable. They look around robotically, perhaps feeling that someone has noticed that they are alone. After all, loners are losers. The library is a better place for loners and losers. There are so many of the homeless hanging out there that no one would even notice a loner sitting by himself. As far as I am concerned, invisibility has a marked advantage.

I can definitely confirm that caffeine has a somewhat positive effect on my gym workouts. I have noticed that the caffeine provides a burst of energy, and it seems to alleviate any pain. I am able to perform my weight workout effortlessly. Even the cardio portion goes smoothly.

Back at Slob Manor (read: rental housing), Alan (one of the guys who lives on the first floor) showed me a big pot stuck in the corner of the kitchen. He lifted the lid. The noxious odor almost required hospitalization for both of us. Apparently, the landlord had found the pot and left a note demanding that it be removed immediately. That was two days ago. The pot, of course, contained another of the Indian guy's famous concoctions. At least, I now know where the smell of rotting food was coming from. I told Alan that the pot of rotting food would probably still be there a month from now. Alan shook his head in disbelief.

Yesterday, I discussed my current fixation with Linux. However, I have also detailed some of the more frustrating experiences with Ubuntu in the "blog." I am finding that problems exist with all Linux "distros" (i.e., distributions). So, I have placed some hope in a new operating system called Haiku. It is based on the now-defunct BeOS. Haiku, however, is still in "Alpha." A final release candidate may not be available for a couple of years. For the time being, Linux will have to suffice.

Oversized Cranium Overload

I was on my way to Kahala Mall at 8:15am this morning in my Nissan® Frontier truck. I spent about an hour in the Barnes & Noble® Café before meeting up with moms at the front entrance of the mall. Moms had rode the bus to town for an early appointment with her physician. Moms shopped at Longs®. Then, we ate lunch at Panda Express®. Finally, we stopped off at Foodland in Koko Marina. Later, moms served Foremost® coffee ice cream for dessert.

The rest of the day was classic urban nomad. I have observed that the air-conditioning at the gym in Hawai'i Kai has been set at a higher temperature. In performing my cardio workout, I have had to lower the resistance on the cardio machines in order to avoid profuse perspiration. That does indeed sound ridiculous. However, I have rarely seen anyone working out and producing puddles of sweat on the floor. I assume that such behavior is classified as troglodyte-like and is discouraged by the management.

On this day, I consumed a variety of dishes that contained beef and chicken. I also consumed a couple of dairy products. Hardly worth a mention, except that I happened to peruse Jeff Masson's book, "The Face on Your Plate: The Truth About Food," at Barnes & Noble® yesterday. Now, I have an even more adverse viewpoint about the food that we eat.

Well, all I can say is that the oversized cranium is overloaded. Most of my thinking and cognitive processes have shut down. In fact, I have been spending all of my time reading Linux-related material. The only quandary that confronts me now is the decision to enable more Compiz-Fusion options or not. Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaa!

Quasi-Catatonia

"In fact, an astute reader will notice that in our experiment, the most distinguishing term in the Internet category was 'loser' (no offense intended). The reason for this is that our training set contained LoserNet, a long story, chronicling 'America's Favorite Loser,' and containing the term 'loser' 1532 times. " -- from "Web Search Using Automatic Classification" by Chandra Chekuri & Michael H. Goldwasser, Computer Science Department, Stanford University and Prabhakar Raghavan & Eli Upfal, IBM Almaden Research Center (1997)

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-Sunday was put into check by mundanity. No details are necessary. I will, however, make note of the fact that the hottie gym trainer was espied at the gym for a microsecond. Baby was working with a gym member and was looking mighty fine.

I was in a state of quasi-catatonia all day, so there was really not much much around me that I observed. My daily routine is so benign that I can run through the whole agenda without even thinking twice. And, that's what I did. Soon enough, I was back in the foul-smelling Slob Manor (read: rental housing) and already engaged in an urban nomad kind-of-an-evening. That's how quick life can pass before your eyes. Sheesh!

Day in the Wastelands

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day was marred by a sudden downpour. I was at Ala Moana Center at the time, standing at the bus stop with the myriad cigarette chain-smokers who comprise the bus ridership demographic. Yes, they all have cell phones and cigarettes. I estimate that just between the two vices, the monthly cost is about $210 or so. The poor are apparently not that poor.

I purchased a cup of coffee at the ABC Store. As you may recall, I have never been keen about the place. However, the minute that I walked in, the young hottie working at the cash register said, "Aloha! Good morning!" When I paid for the coffee, she was bright and cheerful, although she annoyed me slightly by checking my identification when I used my credit card. Nonetheless, a cold day in hell will ensue before the employees at Foodland match that kind of service.

I was sopping wet when I entered the library. The rain cleared up within 30 minutes. However, in Hawai'i, one can never be certain about the rain. So, I took the opportunity to walk to the gym at 11am. I performed my workout much earlier than usual. When I exited the gym at 1pm, the sky was gray but there was no sign of rain. As I said, once can never be certain about the rain.

While waiting at the bus stop, I observed a huge crowd gathering at the Chinatown Gateway Park across the street. I recognized many of the faces. Within minutes, several vans arrived. Boxes of food were unloaded. I then realized that a free lunch is made available to the poor and homeless at 1:30pm. Could this be the source for my future lunches?

I rode the bus to Kahala Mall. I meandered around looking for someplace to obtain cheap food. Nada. Cheap food prices have been "normalized" at $5 at a minimum. That's way above my budget. I resisted the temptation to waste money. At Barnes & Noble®, I was surprised to see the hottie bookseller from the Ala Moana store. Baby was obviously on duty. Did she transfer?

At 3:45pm, I observed that the sky was becoming much darker. So, I rode the next bus back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). I was not about to get caught in another downpour. The rest of the day and evening ... heck, we all know the drill.

Sinister Kahuna Day 2009

"The answer is that the United States is an immoral country, with an immoral people and an immoral government. Americans no longer have a moral conscience. They have gone over to the Dark Side." -- Paul Craig Roberts

Another visit to Hawai'i Kai was cut short because my sister-in-law had taken the day off for a doctor's appointment. I was able to visit moms after 10am subsequent to procuring a cup of Seattle's Best® coffee at Safeway®. I also spent time at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center and Koko Marina. Moms and I ate lunch at Zippy's in Koko Marina again. Then, moms shopped for groceries at Foodland. Later, moms served Foremost® vanilla ice cream for dessert. I kept moms company until 1:30pm when my sister-in-law returned.

I was not able to find shaded parking at Koko Marina, so I spent about an hour at Koko Head Park. At 2:30pm, I drove back to Koko Marina, found shaded parking, performed my usual workout at the gym ... you know the drill. Dinner was courtesy Taco Bell® (one bean burrito with green sauce, no red sauce).

When I set foot in Slob Manor (read: rental housing), I immediately noticed a pungent odor. The smell was distinctly that of rotting flesh. Somewhere in the dump, there is garbage lying around that is rotting and stinking up the place. I could not locate it since it has permeated both floors of Slob Manor. By 7pm, the odor was unbearable. Even with the door of my squalid room being closed, there was no way to block the odor's penetration power.

Incidentally, the handheld shower head in the second floor bathroom is lying at the bottom of the bathtub, its umbilical cord severed from the pipe it was once attached to. The shower head has been lying there for several days. I have no idea how the Indian guy is taking a shower. I suspect that he's not.

The power of Sinister Kahuna Day lies in realm of the evil spirit of Satan. Most of the world's population attribute the presence of evil and the doing of evil to Satan, the Devil, El Diablo, the sinister force, Samhain, Beelzebub, and so forth. However, in my own debunking of "bad religion," I discovered the origins of the Dark Side. Evil is purely in the hearts of all humans who choose to exercise its power over morality. The elusive Creator has given us free will in exchange for mortality. We can do as we please, but there will be no redemption. There will be no punishment except our own end. Our memories, the substance of our being, will be erased forever. Whether we exercised good or evil will not matter. I state the aforementioned with a heavy heart. Though, sadly, that is the truth of the universe.

Perhaps if we spent less time attributing our evil acts to our enslavement by Satan, then we would be more prone to act responsibly and morally. If we truly followed our moral compass rather than "book" religion, we would have aspired to fulfill our real purpose. Instead, we continue to debase ourselves and blame it on Satan. We pray to God (of Judaism, Christianity, Paulinity, and Islam) for forgiveness of our "sins," yet we continue to ply for absolution while in the Devil's grip. We are morally responsible for ourselves. The fictitious Beelzebub is not involved. On this Sinister Kahuna Day, let us remind ourselves of our moral agency and the need to meet its obligations.

Ghost of Aloha

Another urban nomad kind-of-a-day left me with absolutely nothing to discuss in the "blog." Ain't that something? There hasn't been a single legitmate reader of the "blog" in days anyway. So, the point is moot.

I had to purchase my coffee at the ABC Store in Ala Moana Center this morning. All the carafes of coffee in Foodland. I have learned to never ask any Foodland employee for assistance. I will only receive a rude or condescending response. The coffee at the ABC Store was about the same quality, same taste, and same price. Why bother with Foodland?

Well, that brings me to the topic of the Aloha Spirit, or should I say the Aloha Ghost. The Aloha Spirit really does not exist in Hawai'i anymore. It's the stuff of legends. Seriously, it has become a ghostly apparition. The people in Hawai'i, including kama'aina, are now too self-absorbed to express aloha, much like their mainland counterparts. Actually, the mainland life-style was long ago imported here by the haoles and by the tube. There's no "Hawai'ian Time" anymore. Everyone is always in a real hurry, so rudeness is at a peak. With each passing day, the situation worsens. Can you imagine several hundred thousand people cloistered on a tiny island with all of them in a rush to get nowhere? Ludicrous is an understatement.

At the library, I completed reading Murat Kurnaz's book, "Five Years of My Life." Definitely a worthy book to read. I am really at loss to say much about the book. For me, I gleaned several points worthy of introspection. I wondered how I would fare under five years of brutal torture. Could I survive under such an ordeal? How does one even begin to make sense of it all?

The rest of the day was a robotic blend of comatose vibes. Are details necessary? Hell no. The highlight of another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening was the download of a new Deep House Cat mix. Sheesh!

On the Road with Godot

My Nissan® Frontier truck and I were on the road at 8am this morning. Our destination? Kahala Mall, of course. I spent about three hours there, sipping coffee in the Barnes & Noble® Café and perusing Linux Format magazine, a definite favorite of mine.

I rode the bus to town via Waikiki and Ala Moana Center. After performing my usual workout at the gym, I returned to Ala Moana Center and purchased a Meatloaf Bento (obviously the term "bento" should be used loosely with respect to meatloaf) at Foodland. Then, I rode the Route 24 bus back to Kahala Mall.

The mall was completely packed. I wanted to find a nice place to sit down and eat my early dinner. Denied again! Sadly, I had to sit on the same concrete bench in the near-desolate office building complex adjacent to the mall. Fortunately, there was no wind. So, I was able to eat my paltry meal without all the crap flying around.

I forced myself to walk around the mall and peruse several nameless retail stores. My mind became quite disoriented. All I could see were useless, albeit expensive, shiny objects (made in China). The oversized cranium began to calculate the amount of useless crap that could be purchased with the money that is being used to subsidize the mortgage of the detestable "condotel" unit. I certainly could purchase a lot of useless crap for $600 each month. Instead, I have nothing except an "upside-down" mortgage¹ that is bankrupting me. I felt a great rage welling up, that is, until I realized that I would never spend that kind of money each month on useless crap anyway.

At 5pm, I had my fill of the mall, the myriad shopping fools, and all of the expensive shiny objects. I reluctantly decided to drive back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Oh, the horror! Not another urban nomad kind-of-an-evening? Damn it! Damn it! Damn it all!

"I've got to get out," is the phrase that intrusively comes out of my mouth throughout the day. I have no control over its trigger. For some reason, I just cannot silently think out the phrase. It must be recited aloud so I can hear it. Get out of what? Well, that's obvious. I need to exit the "system." My subconscious mind apparently senses that I am not consciously doing more to achieve that goal.

My appetite has recently become suppressed, much to my chagrin. Even if I am hungry, I have no apparent desire to eat anything. Essentially, I must force feed myself. Nothing seems to taste good. Heck, most of the food we eat is poisoned anyway. Perhaps my subconscious mind is at play again. Who knows?

On a side note, I finally found confirmation that Ubuntu Linux v8.04 LTS will be supported until March 2011 at the latest. Therefore, I will not be upgrading the operating system of my Toshiba® Satellite notebook computer even though the new v10.04 LTS is scheduled to be released in six months. I have no desire to spend the time to tweak it to my tastes. I have already gone through the trouble with the current version. Aside from the inoperative headphone jack and the occasional media player freeze, I am satisfied.

¹"Upside-down" mortgage occurs when the mortgage is significantly more than the current worth of the property.