MORNING
Still at a bit of a loss for gifts this year, I thought of Lindt chocolates. Top of the line Swiss, although I know such things are a matter of taste. Then I find there is no place in Florida to buy them fresh. Yes, it makes a difference. Chocolate contains fine aromatic oils that evaporate over time. The nearest outlet is New York. I cannot eat chocolate. You should read the Lindt story. I’m not keen on all the ingredients, but it shines compared to what’s put into others. Chocolate packages should not contain warnings.
The carburetor on the Chinese scooter does not like cold mornings. I coaxed it up to the incense store to find they are out of coconut, in case anyone wonders what my favorite is. The paper says gas should drop below $2 per gallon. I’ll keep an eye open for that, and a gas cap, too. You see, if oil drops below $80 per barrel, places like Saudi Arabia cannot support their social systems. Same with Canada, but that’s another credit society, so the politicians can shunt the problem into the future. Something else I found out: you no longer go shopping, you are “self-gifting”.
I wonder what is going on with the Iranian gold-backed dollar. It seems the media has completely blocked all mention of this serious development. On the other hand, there is talk that the currency is another FBI-perpetuated hoax. But if such a currency becomes available, I would instantly attempt to acquire it, me and anyone else with a functioning brain. The US money is mostly electronic, they can create it with a mouse-click and it instantly reaches “the corners of the empire”.
On the other hand, gold is difficult to spend directly. And prices still fluctuate locally although there has never been a time when gold demand collapsed like paper money. The concern is with the entire western world hovering on bankruptcy or already insolvent, it does not take much to set off the implosion. Money has the secondary effect of diminishing system-reliancy. Most Americans could not produce their own food no matter what resources they are given. Only a temporary disruption is enough to flatten such a people.
NOON
An extraordinary success, that’s how to describe rehearsal today. There is a long way to go. But we know we have passed initiation. What we are doing would probably not fit most notions of how things are done. We need only the time put in to push this duo into a formidably competitive position. I didn’t invent this, but nor did I copy it. We have a superb sound of bass-acoustics that is locally (maybe more) unique. Why? Because I know for a fact no guitar player in this area would ever deign to play what I do.
I know I’ve gone over this before, but this is the furthest things have ever gotten. Trent has played 15 or so tunes he never learned before. That outlasts every other musician I’ve met in Florida. The sound of the bass and acoustic is definitely infectious. I am now convinced somebody, somewhere, will hire us on the spot.
Who’s this lady in black and white? It the English model who “invented” the miniskirt. She also passed the name onto the little car behind her behind, the “Mini”. I rode in one of those once back in the 70s. The ride was utilitarian. I don’t know her name. She would have looked to me like somebody’s mother back then. I never did see what other men see in non-blond non-teen models. I suppose I never watched enough TV to condition me to what I’m supposed to find attractive. Theoretically, one day I’ll learn to act and think like the mass of men.
Then all the small-town azzholes can call me "mature".
EVENING
Here’s a tale from the trailer court. This is true, so don’t expect great excitement, okay? Trent and I went for a couple brews over at the neighborhood pub. He left early and I stayed to finish mine. The barmaid knew some talkative old guy at the far end and he brought in a bag of fresh vegetables. She didn’t want them so she asked if anybody wanted some potatoes.
I thought, yeah, I’ll take one. So she walks over and sets it in front of me. That’s not a potato, that is a big beet. She didn’t know. Shortly later, I got home and I put that beet on the kitchen counter. Then I sat down and looked at it for about five minutes, just me and that beet. I got out the knife, peeled it, diced it, and put it in a pot. Then I boiled it up with a little salt, that one beet. I sat there and watched it boil.
Then I clicked off the burner, drained the pot and I ate that beet. Just the beet by itself. With butter. I looked at my wall clock. It was 5:32 PM and I thought long and deep about that situation.
Lord love a duck. I’m surrounded by people who don’t know a potato when they see one.
Then it hit me. There were no TVs.
Isn’t that something. The most evident therapy for straightening out crooked brains is to chuck the damn flatscreen. Hey, Paris, you may not be the sharpest dart on the board, but you can come recover at my place for a fraction of the cost. Well, at least until we do everything you know how to do, which may not take all that long. You might even learn something about self-reliance. Unlike some women I could name, recently.
Today’s Togla Treat
She has that healthy glow.
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