One year ago today: July 1, 2014, coffee in West Palm.
Five years ago today: July 1, 2010, 19¢ on the dollar.
Six years ago today: July 1, 2009, on the loudness of speech.
MORNING
I’ve reached a decision. Even if I am wrong, it is wisest to do nothing for the moment. My intentions remain to take a look, but overall, the situation is too good to be true. There are too many places suddenly on sale in a situation where the media is saying nothing, indicating they can’t say/won’t say. I can’t keep on top of everything, but I don’t fancy the idea of buying a place across the street from where the government intends to build a new prison, type of thing.
Agt. M has been to the auctions and has a relative who picked up a good deal. Accordingly, he says to learn the auction rules requires at least a week’s study time. Ergo, the government is constantly very curious about who has enough cash on hand to buy property. Still, I want to proceed with learning how the auction works. Par usual, I have two weeks to get six months experience.
Meanwhile, one-by-one the places looked at so far have not held up to scrutiny. They are good places, but finding even one unmentioned detraction is a deal-killer for me. Most common reasons so far:
Too near a high-crime area.
Too many nearby houses for sale at similar low prices.
Swimming pool. Don’t want swimming pool.
But here (the photo above) is typical of what I’ll at least take a look at. This is in Fort Meyers, near the river. Built in 1925, the asking price is $24,900. That is not an auction start bid, that’s the whole price. My reason probable for rejection? It has a swimming pool. I’m too old for yard maintenance, and I’ve been saying that since I was 8.
NOON
“Why should I follow the will of the people? Am I not their leader?” ~various, but attributed to Benjamin Disraeli*.
Here is the batbike in the shop. In the end, that flat tire cost me $235 and my August trip out of town. During the repair, a discover that the rear brake needs replacing and the drive shaft oil seal needs replacing. True enough, this motorcycle is costing me around $100 per month – but there is ever fewer things that need attention. Compare this to the average driver who spends $180 per month on insurance. Insurance has to be the biggest scam ever perpetuated on democracies.
The central topic to day was the house auction. Nobody knows if it is open to the public, some say there is a $500 registration fee. That would not surprise me, as anything involving big money attracts the bureaucratic mind. It’s that old English mentality that bases taxes on a person’s perceived ability to pay. I got family like that, and they are not even English.
I had planned on a trip to the Gulf coast tomorrow, but that acting up rear brake says maybe not. I know, I’ll surprise JZ early in the morning and let him decide it is a good idea to take the truck out there for the day. We really need to discuss this auction option.
For relaxation, I pondered the design of a siesmometer based on a suspended weight. This, I think, would measure only the S-wave. The concept is to see if the apparatus is sensitive enough to pick up the electric current generated by the Earth movement while the weight remains stationary via inertia. I can measure this voltage at 0.03 mVolts, which isn’t much.
*Disraeli was the first truly mentally defective world leader to be elected. The concept of the elected "leader" is one who represents the people, not himself, but these sort miss the point. The problem has always been that once elected, the weak-minded start to believe their own hype.
NIGHT
While at the repair shop, I looked over this 50cc Japanese scooter. It’s unlikely you’ve seen a real example because they are not imported here. This one is heavily rusted but intact and the electronics are in the seat. Look closely, the cover is removed, but even the battery is in there. Ah, but how could a battery small enough to fit in a seat start a motor?
I took the seismometer idea far enough to become exhausted, so I’m turning in early In theory my idea should work, if not, the easy fixes are to try a better magnet or a smaller spring. You know, definitionally, the Big One in California will not be an earthquake because a real earthquate must be unexpected. I’ll let somebody else argue the point. It’s like the next flood in New Orleans. I don’t want to hear about it when it happens because they know it will.
Many sources tell how the P wave moves 8 km per second, but no data on the S wave. My guess is half as fast, or 4 km per second. I’ve felt a few S waves in my life, so I also think they are stronger. A surprising aspect of electronics you don’t likely notice until you actually try things is how often you guess the correct operation of instruments you’ve never seen. Like that seismometer. Only after I had sketched out plan did I learn that’s the principle the real units work on.
ADDENDUM
To those who ask why I don’t write for a living, the answer is the same reason most people don’t. Like music, there is a popular illusion that if you are good and have a worthy product, all you need is to get the attention of somebody in the industry. Hence, you’ve got countless people struggling to gain exposure and build a fan base. Wrong, that is not at all how it is done. Publishing is a business and the criteria the big companies seek has little to do with talent or popularity.
They need to know things like what you are like to work with. Do you show up on time and can you meet deadlines? Publishers are more likely to hire a hack writer with a university degree than a brilliant performer. He’s proven he can put in at least four years. I won’t go into much detail, but I doubt I would be a good prospect as an author. For those like me, the best hope is vanity publishing, which is something I may yet try.
As proof I am not for the big book factories, I finally quit attending the writer’s club up on 57th because the repetition got to me. Some of the people were rather gifted, but in the end they were all perpetually writing the same book. Also, I was criticized once or twice too often for not following that stereotype.
As well, this is similar to the reason I left the best band in South Florida last August. These were the most talented musicians I’ve worked with in the area, but they were going nowhere and were utterly resistant to any suggestions I made. They even canceled out at the last minute when I booked us a gig. These guys were burning discs, selling t-shirts, advertising on Facebook, and generally doing everything “right” except what stood any chance of use ever breaking into the big time.
Myself, I wanted them to learn twenty minutes of country music and play opening acts for free, but they wanted to go the old 1970s route. Or should I say “perceived route”, where studios and agents make a living on your dreams while you go nowhere.
Last Laugh
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