August 1, 2006

           I found out the drive-up bank does not accept your money unless you drive up in a car. Something to do with insurance coverage, which goes to prove there are people in Florida who think you give a damn how much their insurance costs. It takes eleven minutes to get into the shop from here. Oh, that cancer guy came by and I bought a back carrier and tire pump off him for $10. I now have $48 tied up in that bike.
           No, I did not have any aching muscles from not riding all these years. I walk a lot and did not even experience any minor cramps, nothing at all. That was a surprise, so I stopped at the bakery on 9th (?) for an extra café con leche on the way in to work.
It is confirmed, I do ride my bike faster than most people. I may even buy one of those little meters to track my mileage. I’ve modified the basket hooks to stop the thing from rubbing on my nice paint job, it took a dish sponge and a couple of zap straps. I also discovered that people around here don’t know what a zap strap is. I’m not out to prove I ride fast, I just get on the thing and do what is natural. That happens to be around three times faster than most.
           It was a busy enough day, all the computers were in use. I had to put Daniel on the video computer. Today he drew a locomotive with background scenery. Oddly, the public school seems to have taught him a lot about backgrounds. His father came in around mid-afternoon and asked about KPL. I drew a blank on that. Juan-Carlos (yes, same name as the King of Spain) says it is an offshoot of Visual Basic, and stands for Kid’s Programming Language. Would I teach it to Daniel?

           Of course. First I’ll have to find out what it is, and just what exactly does MS deem that kid’s want to program. Let me guess it is cartoons. Still, programming is a trade and I will find out what this one is all about. It also tips me off that it is not being taught in school. It is likely as half-baked as any other MS product but I’ll go along with anything that makes learning a useful skill less intimidating to kids. I was terrified to draw when I was eight because I was so bad at it. I still cannot sing a note after embarrassing myself in grade three.
           On the way home, I snapped photos of something I hoped I’d never see again. An oil rig. There is one operating less than a quarter-mile from here. It is a small wildcat outfit, probably looking for salt domes. Nothing against rigs, it is the type of people that work on oil rigs that I don’t like. It is a lifestyle I never bought into, I don’t like the tough-guy thing or the way that rigs are run. You know, where the guy who’s been there the longest is supposed to be the smartest. From first hand experience that is total bullsh. I recognized by the time I was ten that how you make money is just as important as how much you make. I’ve never met a rig worker that got rich.

           That Italian guy with the Mexican name called. Jorge Gomez. I went over to see what was stalling his computer again. It is a decent model and size but it gets sluggish for no reason after every six weeks or so. No virus, everything up to specs. This time it was relatively easy. He had installed a PDA and the synch feature was locking up his CPU. It was running at 97% even when idle until I uninstalled the entire system. Also, he’s got this Nokia data assistant thing, around the size of a large remote control. He reports it is popular in Europe, but I am not keen on any electronic device that does not fit easily into a shirt pocket.
           Now I read that popcorn is good for you. Can’t these diet people decide? I have always used the artificial butter flavor and now they say that it is harmless in that form. They say the bad stuff was the one laced with melted butter. This means I can watch movies without guilt again. I rode o
ver to Publix and picked up a basket of sodas to celebrate. What? No, no popcorn. I had that on Sunday over at JZ’s.
Last, the cancer guy had another item, it was a green canister with Cyrillic and Germanic lettering. Definitely military. I saw the word “Nebel” which convinced me it is some kind of weapon. I took it back to Fred, who started laughing. It is a smoke bomb, a little smaller around that a small can of evaporated milk. Don’t look at me, I was not going to open a green can with Russian words and a pull ring on top. East German, right? Unless the West German army has learned to speak Ruskie.
           Well, almost last. That Jewish lady who suddenly finds me so interesting was in again today. She was all over me to scan some pictures for her to email. I should point out that she is doing exactly the wrong thing if she has any designs. I do not react to that female concept that a man needs to feel wanted. Nor do I like people relying on me to do things that they ought to do for themselves. If you need me to help you email, you are in serious bad shape.

           I missed my messages y’day but guess who called? The Hippie. He wants to play music again. He’s invited me to Cort’s Coffeehouse this Saturday. I don’t know, that is a long way to drive to play three tunes. I’ll reply stating my position [again] that I only play for money and that he can call me when he has us a steady Friday night gig. That is not strictly true, I will also play if there is any chance of picking up a drunk young together babe with a dynamite body and no fear of older men.
           Here is some super fine African art, I’ll tell you more about it later. Hey, it is later already. That is a three string guitar that I would mistake for a balalaika. Note the huge sound hole and pick guard, not. It is heavily over balanced on the neck and will not stand up by itself. Underneath is an inlaid table. That is not paint, that is pieces of metal hammered or glued into the wood finish. Sadly, many of the tiles are missing.