October 18, 2009

           Here’s my old ex leaning on my old ’85 Cadillac. All I can say is that was a far happier time. This was somewhere in Los Angeles. I see a building with the number 9110 in the background so probably Ventura. Sigh, those were the days. I worked a few hours with Wallace’s scanner to get an idea what we are in for. He’s got something like 10,000 photos and at this rate, it will take 1,500 days to digitalize them. There is clearly a better way but we needed this device to test the concept. It works, but there must be a better concept.
           News about the disappearing Carlos. Wallace reports that he has moved to New York. The rumor was there was construction work out there. The other rumor says there isn’t. At least we know he isn’t living in his van down on Key Biscayne.

           Theresa called from Wilmietown. Our quick chat lasted 46 minutes and she again reports the first impressions of that area are misleading. There is no work and the downtown does not even have an Internet Café or a Publix [supermarket]. I was just there a day when I felt it looked prosperous. She says no jobs that pay over $10 per hour. She should head back here, keeping in mind there are 1,012,000 unemployed in Florida, with up to 70 applicants for every new job.
           She is qualified for that government program to go back to school full time, which should find her on campus by next summer. It took a baby boom to make the government realize it is cheaper to educate people than put them on assistance later in life. I just wish they’d know that when I was 19. Theresa says no decision on what to study, but if it was me, it would be deeply in the medical field. The reason I didn’t when younger was not totally because I had no idea about the occupation, but because I knew it took seven years and was afraid to commit to something I might not finish.
           Last night, it dropped to 70, and you know who gets the blame for that. Freezing, I had to pull two blankets over myself. It’s all Russian weather control. Pudding-Tat has migrated back inside to sleep with me once more, her and Millie now get along at a distance. I purposely stayed indoors all day, Wallace braved the patio. Actually, I like it outside but I find it boring unless I am reading. And it is uncomfortable to read outside most of the time, not to mention the distractions. I don’t exactly read Dean Koontz, you know.

           I have a Halloween gig, cash plus tips. It will be a chance to hit the audience with my new material while still emphasizing country music. I’ve been toying with the idea of customizing my bass, but not like usual. Arnel had his guitar customized to include all types of effects and gadgets. I would like to have a drum box built in. I dismantled the Alesis after it crapped out and I’m sure the circuit board would fit. What I’m antsy about is all these drum boxes have displays for dickheads, such as “60sRockBeat”. I want a real display. (It turns out there is no such thing.)
           Which is why Wallace says I should go back to computer school. I’m thinking. (Now I think Wallace should plain have gone to school himself.)

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