And how do you like the Playgirl pose? Is that magazine even around any more? It’s the summer heat, gals, I’m wearing cutoffs. Or am I? Enough was saved by getting this press into action that the club can afford a table saw, literally the small saw that fits on a table. And one day we may have some place to keep all these tools besides my living space. But that’s for later. When I’m tired and can’t sleep, I do the same as everybody. I read. And the more I read about the Boer War, the more I learn what a nasty bunch of bastards the British government can be. Not the people, they seem to be okay if horribly mislead. There seems to be a certain amount of that going around. I’m finding out the Boers taught the English most of what they needed to know to start WWI and keep it going for four years.
For the record, the Boers were never defeated in battle. They ceased firing after their farms were burned and their children were dying by the thousands in British concentration camps. Yes, that is the war the term came from, it is a British, not a German invention. I must smirk at the British army when I see their captured prisoners. Scared teenage boys and old Boer men with beards this long.
The Tamarac apartment is still on the market. Didn’t I mention that? Okay, are you a gambler? I’ll give you the details in the full understanding that people don’t like to risk the place they live in. But my contention is that anyone with a mortgage since 2006 is already taking a risk worse than this one. It goes like so. This guy, Mike, bought a foreclosed property at auction with the intention of renting it out. But the HOA said no rentals. So he decides to flip the house at a profit.
Problem. It turns out the old owner had a mortgage, but nobody can find the owner or the mortgagor. So, to paraphrase Mike, “You give me my auction money back and I hand you the key. If they never find the guy, you get to live in a $250,000 apartment for $30,000. Do your homework.” (At 1,325 sq. ft. this is house-sized.)
I would be risking only the tiny down payment he’s asking for. (The payments he wants are comparable to the rent I’m already paying.) And the place would be mine in two years. I would leap at this opportunity except for that HOA - how did they manage to NOT let a new buyer know about the rental restriction? Especially someone like Mike with the smarts. Now they’d be watching like hawks. Still, if it is on the market in September, I may look again. Technically, I don’t have a thing to lose. Occupy the place a year and they would need bulldozers to evict you. Not a bad trade for the lifetime of drudgery paying off a mortgage.
Sundays are now rehearsal days and that also didn’t go so great. The Florida-grade bands I’ve played in over the past decade were lucky to know 24 songs and those were a hodge-podge of what the guitarist could manage. These guys handed me a list of over 60 songs. The new group is themed toward Stones, Beatles, Doors, Zombies, a definite style of music that I traditionally didn’t play. Now I’m finding out certain tunes never “stick” in my mind, no matter how many times I hear them. “Ruby Tuesday” doesn’t mean a thing to me.
My usual learning method includes listening to and playing the song 30 times. This has always worked for me until songs like old Elvis, early Stones, and a lot of easy listening, like the guitar song “Sleepwalk”. Today’s practice was uninspired and the conclusion is that I’m going to use charts. It won’t be on every song and it’s not like I’ll have a music stand in front of me on stage. But unless you have a better idea, I’m about to do something I swore would never happen--charts. I’m good at faking off musical score sheets so I’m hoping using them enough times will imprint the songs on my over-loaded brain.
ADDENDUM
I’m the guy who has been saying for a lifetime to get an academic hobby while you are twenty. Why? Because in my very words, “You are going to be old a lot longer than you’re going to be young.”
Women are particularly bad for not taking this advice because, I suspect, they don’t like to think about getting old. Then there are the guys who mistake what I said and take up some sport for a hobby. Listen to me. Sports and socializing hobbies are no substitute for brainwork. Both will let you down in the end because they do not combat loneliness. If the truth were known, the number one affliction of older people is loneliness.
A pastime that stimulates learning does not cure the problem, but it teaches one that deep thought is a solitary undertaking that has its own rewards. The lesser choices provide no rewards at all. Exercising or playing cards all day long does not click off any lonesome feelings. In this regard, I find a close parallel between loneliness and boredom. I don’t have time for either but maybe a few minutes daily. Early mornings sometimes.
Where this flares up in my life is women who don’t understand when they are not my type. That means I don’t find them attractive that way but I’m okay with friendship. They usually are not, since friendships aren’t normally the first priority of single women, the only kind I habitually associate with. So I always manage a wry smile when some gal dumps me as a friend and comes back later. There is no large contingent of women who value smart men for anything except their ability to make money. Until too late in the game.
When women leave you, it usually-to-the-point-of-always means they think they’ve found a better deal. Like the old song goes, there ain’t no gold and there ain’t nobody like me. Estelle called this morning.
