One year ago today: August 2, 2013, 25th anniversary
(of my decision to quit busting my ass for nothing).*
Five years ago today: August 2, 2009, chillin'.
Ten years ago today: August 2, 2004, county fair.
Meeting with the band y’day has restored my faith in this town. That’s how different they are from the egotistical local rabble. They bought drinks on the break and even called today to see how I liked the gig. And invited me to the Moose this Friday, which I think is the Moose where all my bingo people go during the week. That would be just too much coincidence. I told you, west coast in style and personality, but also solid and long-term committed members. You don’t waltz into a west coast band.
[Author’s note: some perspective is due here. This band rivals my second band, which I put together when I was in grade eight and is still playing together. But they’ve never made a real dollar since I left to go to university many years later. My first band, which I started in 1965 failed within a year because I had to allow “older” kids in. And we know how they became experts at that instant.
So define “failed”. It is a matter of historical record how I single-handedly put a band together before my teens AND these bands go nowhere unless I am in complete control. It ain’t braggin’ if you really done it. And anyway, most bands go nowhere no matter who is in complete control.]
You bet I’ll be monitoring how this situation goes. I cannot possibly compete with those who have played together that long. They did notice now I noticed their arrangements. For some reason, this musical technique is largely ignored and/or not mentioned in Florida. Most guitar-sorts sweep it aside and start talking shit about their brand of strings. But arrangement, which I call “voicings” is the most important factor in a duo or trio, as most music you play comes from larger orchestras. When I complimented them on it, these new guys began to take me seriously.
I stayed home all day. In the shade, listening to audio books. For some reason, I’m stuck on the kid’s book, “The Alchemist”, droll and unoriginal and four hours long. I can’t understand how it became a bestseller, as in 65 million copies. It is nothing but a tired chain-together of every lucky-boy cliché you can imagine. The old crone philosopher who is really a king, the incredible luck of a shepherd boy, it’s just hard to believe such a stereotyped string of fairy-tale clips could even get noticed. Not one surprise or innovative passage in the entire book.
[Author's note: enter the maybe fourth "book" in my life I didn't finish. I turned the thing off about half-way, while he's wondering around an oasis. We know how it all goes, so why waste time? Get the girl, discover the "magic", sell the story.]
Here’s Johnny Dronehunter, the hero of the day. Except, by the time he steps out of his car, the drones have already run his plates. After that, it is skeet shooting with a silenced 12-ga. With mary-jane legal in almost half the states, such scenarios are not that far-fetched. Remember and beware: "you can smoke it" is not the same as "you can smoke it as long as they have that fact on file for future use against you".
Instant coffee. I grew up with it. That’s what we had on the farm, lots of instant products. Probably the cause was of my parents bought things that way during and after the war. Powdered egg, powdered cocoa, and tons of powdered coffee. It tastes funny but not unlike south Americans make it. So café con leche and other Latino-style drinks remind me of instant. And where does the best instant coffee come from? India. They spray dry it and seal it in cans. Another lost art was on the farm was canned food, we would often stockpile six months of supply at a time in the pantry.
The parents told it was to save money, but later I found out it was to minimize the exposure to “town kids”. Those were more likely to know about summer vacations, after-school jobs, and that there was life over the horizon. Such information was considered contamination but I found out anyway. It was an effective tactic, however, as I have brothers that didn’t find out about certain rather important things in life until in their late teens. Worse, instead of blaming the guilty, my brothers blamed me for not "telling them”. (Not like I didn’t try.)
Reliable transportation. I don’t have any. My five year plan ends in November. Planning ahead was a titanic task in 2009 and unforeseen trouble was expected. Then there was the unprovoked backstabbing of Wallace and Theresa. I do not have reliable transportation and there’s not much I can do about it until the new budget arrives. That’s why I walked home from bingo tonight. The fuel pump on the red scooter seems to have died. And Miguelito is in New York until middle of the month. Somehow, I managed the walk without having to rest every three blocks.
It makes sense that my vehicles are breaking down, as I’ve run them nearly 27,000 extra miles since mid-2012. Those were unplanned miles, for I had no way of knowing I could afford such long trips until they happened. Thus, I’m probably stuck with fickle rides until December 1, 2014. I had to leave my scooter parked inside the club until I go back in the daylight to diagnose the problem. I got a premonition I’ll wind up pushing it home rather than dismantle to cPod to use it as a wagon. It may be bicycle time for a couple of weeks.
If I do buy a vehicle, it would be a small station wagon, similar to the Taurus. I moved here with what I could fit in my Cadillac trunk, but I could certainly not leave the same way. I was only going to stay three years, this Xmas it will have been fifteen. Don’t get me wrong, I could go buy any vehicle I want right now, but that would be as dumb as buying a second-hand Impala on impulse in Idaho and then showing up in Florida broke. Always remember, if anyone claims I didn’t pay my share, ask them to see their five year plan of how much I was supposed to pay. Or are they making it up on the spot?
The problem is not the initial cost, but the ongoing commitment to keeping the vehicle available. The average cost in America of a car is $12.78 per day plus gas. It doesn’t sound like much, but that’s close to $5,000 per year, most of it insurance. This is not something I liked to afford even back when I could. It was agony to pay that amount on a car that I parked half the year while I was out of the country, even if I didn’t consider auto insurance to be one massive scam.
One vehicle I will not be buying is the Aero-X “hover-bike”. This recycled concept is a two-fan ground effect hovercraft with an $85,000 price tag. The company isn’t the only thing having trouble getting off the ground, take a look at this nearly-fake video. The thing can barely move. Unless it can barge forward a lot faster than shown, it would be flying into a cloud of its own debris.
*[Author's note: that was the decision part, not the quit work part. If I had to do it over again, I would have declared bankruptcy and walked away. It was to require another 8 years (until 1996) to pay off the inevitable debts that the working-class incur, everything from student loans to car loans to getting trapped into the whole credit sequence in life to pretend one is "middle class".
Those who stuck with that fantasy are today's losers, no better off than I am, but they wasted their lives working. If they have more disposable cash than I do, I would like to see it first-hand, up front, here and now. It doesn't make sense to me to borrow money to go on holidays, but schmeebs don't see a credit card as borrowing. And as for which of us got further ahead in life, I'll take a show of hands.]
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