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The Year of Living Dangerously
The Saga Continues — Costa Rica Cinco
Tuesday May 18, 2004
As you may have guessed, I lost a friend this week. The reason? This journal. I am removing any reference to the former friend from 31 chapters of the journal, yet trying to keep it from all becoming absurd. As I pruned the pages, I really have to admit that I am good at creating a spin to fill the mystery that surrounds most people. I also did a great "psych-ops" job of developing a frenzied pitch. I don't want to pat myself on the back for that because it does nothing to regain my lost friendship. I just can hope that time heals all wounds. This is truly a loss to me, and something for which I am very sorry.
The journal is an interesting instrument. It has helped me out many times, the last being the explicit documentation I drafted to help bring down Roach. It also brought me through a very troubled time a few years ago, and it solidified my friendships with old friends and those whom I never met but stayed with me for many years. None of that really matters in the needless loss of one friendship. I have always tried to maintain the feelings of the moment, although I tend to overdo it in writing. Yet, I also recall the many pieces of e-mail I received from people who were going through similar times, and how the journal helped them cope. For me, this particular time was mid-life. It's not something readily described, but it certainly was a painful ordeal. I'll have more on that sometime later.
It's almost odd that Anonder posted something on the message board this morning. By the way, the message board had to be replaced by a new one. Well, here's what Anonder had to say:
Call me Chicken Little, but the dike seems to be springing holes right and left, at least as I read the financial news. It is only a matter of time before the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. As Buffett puts it, "give me a trillion dollars to throw around and sure I'll show you a good time". An economy can't borrow its way to prosperity. The only difference between the US and Argentina, which tried the same stunt, is that the debt is denominated in our own currency. Big consolation that is. Sure, hyperinflation will screw the foreigners, but history shows that hyperinflation is also the prelude to social collapse and the emergence of a military dictatorship. I doubt we'll go down that path. More likely, the US will have to go through 20 years of declining living standards--higher consumer prices, stagnant wages, declining stock and real-estate values--in order to dig its way out of the hole it has dug for itself.
Enough ranting. T, the sense of lethargy you are feeling and your resentment at people telling your what to do about the townhouse is due to your realization that this was a bad idea from the start. If prices are really still going up, then take your profits and get the hell out. And if prices are stagnant or falling, then eat your losses before they get any bigger. Anyone who knows you could have predicted you'd tire of the Orion telescope after a few months, but so what? We all make mistakes buying things we don't want or need--the key is to keep these mistakes small, and then the mistakes are something to laugh about later. This townhouse, however, is beyond joking. If this deal goes bad, you are looking at a very dismal future, financially speaking.
Your situation with regards to sex and women is hardly new, on the other hand. Pretty much the same as it has been for the past thirty years, if I'm not mistaken. Accusing women of being interested only in money is an extreme attitude, and like any violently asserted falsehood, it sets up stresses, which eventually cause a psychic collapse. The truth is milder but also far more hopeless. To wit, we are all ultimately alone. Love for another is always an illusion--we find what we were looking for because this something originated in ourselves and we merely projected it outwards. This is true even of God. To find or love God is equivalent to finding or loving something in ourselves. There is no perfect other person, not for you, not for anyone. Everyone who lives long enough on this planet will ultimately come to realize this. What separates people who are strongly attracted to solitude, like me, from people who can't bear the idea of not being in a relationship, is simply that I become spiritually old much sooner than these other people. Perhaps you aren't as spiritually old as me, but you're not far behind either.
Strong vows are not the answer. This is forcing the issue. The mistake that my monk cousin made, and a very common mistake amoung would-be renunciates. Let the renunciation come to you, rather than trying to accelerate things. In the meantime, carry lubricant and condoms on your person at all time and if a woman falls into your life, use her body to masturbate with until she disappears from your life. Enjoy her like you would good weather, but don't expect her to last and don't expect her to make that big of a difference in your level of happiness.
I mention all this about women because it seems you are using this issue to distract yourself from the more pressing issue of unloading the townhouse. Yes, it seems idiotic to buy a house in March and then sell it in June without ever having spent the night in the place, but then calling your site Losernet gives you the freedom to engage in precisely this sort of stupidity, now doesn't it? Just make sure you don't suffer a financial loss on the deal like you did with the telescope.
P.S. After the recent run up in bond prices, I transferred all my money from the treasury only money market fund to an intermediate term (5 years average maturity) treasury only bond fund with about 3.8% yield. If you believe, like me, that the US economy will be falling back into recession soon, this seems a good time to lock in a decent rate of interest. It won't last!
I responded to few points on the board, but there is one thing here that really struck me. I've underlined it in the text. What a profound statement. In addition, he discussed the elusive need for others. I have known this all along, or rediscovered it with the last five years. We are always alone. Hence the need for others or one other is superficial. There is no doubt that Anonder knows me too well, and that there is some kind of connection between he and I. There is no other way to explain how he appears just at the moment when I need alternative spiritual advice. I will also be discussing more of this later. I will also discuss the future disposition of the townhouse, and my own future in Costa Rica.
The Dean at the Asylum resigned, effective at the end of the month. Although I was privy to this information a while back, I was still affected by the news today. No one knows for sure what will pan out. The enrollment has dropped very low for Summer, which is even more troubling. Some believe that the place is going under no matter what. I saw Mr. Z yesterday. He is leaving for Virginia. This was his last day at the Diploma Mill. I also saw Professor Marv. He has put on a little weight, no doubt because he's going back into surgery again at the end of the month. Former Professor Lisa sent e-mail to say that she will be visiting next month. We will get together to do some activities. I have to say that I missed her. She was one of the most calm and reasonable people I have ever met. I always have interesting talks about life with her.
Note: If you have gotten to this point, you know that the journal has been edited. The last 31 chapters of the journal may lack continuity. The pruned portions are unrecoverable. It is best that you disregard the affected chapters because all are now meaningless content.
Wednesday May 19
An uneventful day. I have decided that I will sell off the furniture that was given to me and send the proceeds. The rest of the stuff will be donated to Goodwill or discarded. I am working extremely fast on this matter, so I should have a money order in the mail by Friday. This brings me to my new five-year plan, although the actual target date is undetermined. The plan is called "Costa Rica Cinco." I am vacating the townhouse immediately. The microwave will be returned to K-Mart this week since it is still in the box. I will be selling off some of the other furniture. Stuff that moms gave me will be returned. I will be tracking the housing prices and will put the place up for sale when the time is right. I am selling my six-four as soon as I clean it up and finish running the errands to vacate my place. I will continue working and will probably rent a dump somewhere in town for $500 per month. My goal is to continue working for five years maximum. Then, I will move to Costa Rica (or Mexico, Spain, or Portugal). I will decide the exact destination and plan a scouting trip there. If moms passes on before that time, I will leave shortly after family business is concluded. I will further delineate upon this plan in the journal later.
I chatted with Lori on the express bus this morning. I told her about my plan to move. I'm not sure why, but she thinks it's a bad idea. I have received mixed opinions about selling the townhouse. I know that I will have to pay the commission and that I will be subject to a capital gains tax. Lori didn't really think that selling the place was a bad idea. She also called me later because we were tentatively planning to go to Jamba Juice. She had a lot of work to do, so we will probably try for Friday.
Anonder really struck a chord within me, and it has become even more obvious that we are very similar. I've known that since I started to read his journal. I take what he says seriously because he pretty much knew my personality when he contributed to the boards in the last few months. We are not exactly the same, so we will not always be in congruence. The townhouse is an issue that I am not in total agreement with him. However, I am preparing myself for a quick sale, if necessary. I will be contacting Debbie, my realtor, very soon to tell her my intentions.
So, what about the babe situation? Here, I believe that Anonder has been right all along. And none of this has to do with my falling out with my former friend. It has to do with the fact that I was not as obsessed with her as the journal made it seem. Yes, I had a thing for her. However, I used writer's embellishment to make things seem more frenetic. The issue is not my finances or the townhouse either. The real issue is my life, specifically mid-life. I really did endure a crisis of chronic proportions. I experienced anxiety and panic attacks, not because of the former friend. Those symptoms were the result of life issues. As I said before, I am not growing old gracefully. I became extremely confused, especially since I have not followed the traditional pathway of settling down and starting a family. All other mid-life issues came into play, but it was easiest to think that the whole problem was the babe situation. I am not any better off today. Certainly, the falling out with the former friend has a bearing in this, but it is not anywhere near the bulk of the problem.
I am becoming somewhat perturbed now, so I will defer this discussion for later. I must continue to prune the remaining chapters of the journal. Once I am done, the former friend will no longer exist. So, this will really be the last mention of the latter. Many thanks to John in Modesto for the kind words in support of the ol' lavahead. However, there is no need to make a case for me. I can assure you that the former friend will never read the journal again. Nor will I see her again. So, I bid farewell to the former friend and wish her a good life. Now, it's time to press on. Wish me Godspeed. Viva Costa Rica Cinco!
Thursday May 20
I neglected to mention that Shirley called on Tuesday night. She asked how I was doing. I discussed the chaos at the Asylum, but she kept probing. So, I knew what she wanted hear. It turns out that she knew about the whole debacle but was sworn to not say anything. It's really at the point now where none of it matters, so I will leave it that. Shirley has been spending her time surfing. She's also hanging out with her friend Seth. He's between jobs, so he has some time on his hands as well. I am somewhat surprised, though, that my former friend called Shirley about the situation. If you had read the journal (before it was pruned), then you know that Shirley was complicit in this whole affair. I do not blame Shirley for anything. She has been a loyal friend to me, no matter what.
An uneventful day. I was only redeemed when I walked into the the faculty computer room this afternoon and saw Pseudo-professor Glenn sitting in there. We ended up at the Indigo Happy Hour. I had three martinis. Definitely a good time to be had by all. I also restored my monk haircut today. The babe who cut my hair did not want to cut it as short as I wanted it. "The ladies do not like a bald head," she said. She reluctantly cut it anyway. Another babe came by and said to her, "Why are cutting it shorter? It looks good already." Then, she said to me, "You have someone waiting outside, I know." She giggled. She thought that I had a babe waiting for me. "I don't need to worry about women anymore," I told them. If only they knew.
Caroll called this evening. She was in a bad way because of her neighbor. The reason, as it turn out, is that she was laid off from her job on Tuesday. At one point she derided me for having moms around to help me out. "I've worked for the last six years straight," I told her. She doesn't know it, but I put up with a lot of crap during that time. I remained calm because Caroll is my friend. She has helped me through troubled times. Now, it is my turn to help her. The sad part is that babes tend to get so emotional and then they attack anyone and everyone, even the people who are trying to help. I notice this phenomenon with feminized guys as well.
I have received e-mail and now a phone call from one of the people on the math hiring committee. I was supposed to have an interview this week. However, I have put it off. I keep thinking about Costa Rica. That's a few years down the line. Right now, I need to vacate the townhouse as soon as possible.
Friday May 21
I chatted with Lori on the express bus this morning. She first ran her hand over the monk haircut. She also gave me a coupon for a free Jamba Juice smoothie. We get along good as friends. It's been about eight years since we first met. As you know, we hooked up because of the journal. Odd, isn't it? I was talking to her about selling my car. "Ah, the beloved six-four," she said. She still talks in terms of the journal. Lori mentioned the other day that she's trying to write a book. As you know, I was writing a novel just before we formally met. Then, we collaborated together on it. It was well over 100,000 words, so it was already a full-length novel. I discarded the manuscript after we separated. That was a big mistake.
An uneventful day. I had to attend three meetings at the Asylum. At the Diploma Mill, I finally introduced myself to Pseudo-professor Kai. He's the guy who has been adding in tidbits about different countries (e.g., Costa Rica) during several conversations. Apparently, he's another middle-aged lost soul. After a painful divorce, he set out to find himself. So, he's been to different countries. He supports himself by teaching classes. "If you don't care about women, you should move to Thailand," he told me. We had an interesting chat, and I became even more eager to see Costa Rica Cinco through. I sent e-mail to Debbie, my realtor, to thank her for helping me with the maintenance fee fiasco. I also told her that I may move to Costa Rica, so I would need her help again. She sent a reply later saying that she would definitely help me out. Pseudo-professor Bill wants to meet for drinks tomorrow, so we may do that.
I am gradually closing my e-mail accounts. So far, I've mummified two of them. I still have five left. Incidentally, the money is on the way by certified mail to the former friend. I still have to ship the printer and the metal folding bookcase to her. Then, my end of the deal is complete. I only mention this here for the record. I am too fatigued to do anything else, so I will vegetate for the rest of the evening.
Saturday May 22
Caroll called last night. It must have been close to 2am Cali time. The other night, she had troubles with her pesky neighbor. Tonight, her nephew was acting up. She seems to be at wit's end, although she seemed to be in better spirits. An uneventful day. I did the usual mundane weekend thing. I ended up hammered and passed out on the floor. Pseudo-professor Bill had called and left a message. He was already back in Waikiki when I returned the call. He wanted to meet for drinks, but I knew that I would not have arrived there until close to 6pm. So, I deferred the fun for another day. I kind of wish that I had a chance to chat longer with Pseudo-professor Kai. He's been all over the world. I find it amazing that he's done that alone. I am still waiting for the former friend's furniture to be picked up. That will probably happen within the next couple of weeks. I stopped off at Pier 1 and purchased a rattan settee. I have to find a way to transport it. I have not purchased the cushions. The sales guy told me that there will be a big sale in June, so I will wait until then. I just need a Pier 1 floor lamp and my living room will be complete. I'm nixing the coffee table idea. Plans for a dining set are also mummified. I need to be able to vacate the place almost immediately.
Gas is now $2.26 per gallon for the cheapest grade. Gas prices in Hawai'i don't follow national trends. Usually when the price goes up, it never comes back down. This is further incentive for me to sell my six-four. Thus, I am now planning my driving trips. If I am not transporting a full load, then I don't drive. Soon, the bus will be my only transportation.
Lori keeps trying to get me to think about long-term health care insurance. Her husband, coincidentally, sells insurance amongst other things. I read about a recent study which found that there is no shortage of health care providers in this country. However, the quality of health care is marginal. Heck, I've known this for a long time. That's why I try not to use my health benefits, although I have a good physician. He never prescribes any unnecessary services to pad the bill. I really don't want to end up in one of the myriad convalescent homes being constructed. Those are the most dismal places I can imagine. I'm better off in the jungles of Costa Rica.
Sunday May 23
Same old crap again today. I ended up hammered by 1pm. Once again, I passed out on the floor like a true loser. I see nothing but drunk losers on the bus all the time, so I feel as though I fit right in. I've shuttled all of the former friend's miscellaneous stuff to Goodwill. I will be sending the receipt when I ship the printer. I also found the pictures of all of us at Mano'a Falls while I was rummaging through everything. I threw the pictures in the trash. I stopped by Pier 1 again. Yesterday, I was there only long enough to order the settee. I really like looking around Pier 1, although it's a useless venture. I am not going to buy anything else. Frankly, I need to save my money so I can buy a new Apple PowerBook. My beloved iBook is now over three years old. I need a new computer more than I need a dining room set.
I've been thinking about an interesting observation. I really began to piece things together after chatting with Pseudo-professor Kai. All of the middle-aged single guys are not doing anything to settle down. Every single one of them is living in limbo. Look at Pseudo-professors Jim, Paul, Bill, Marv, Robert, and Kai. Not one of them is thinking about buying a place. They are living on the fringe. They could pack up and go at any time. If they were previously married, they are even more entrenched in the fringe lifestyle. Those who are living in the "cocoon" are not in a hurry to go anywhere. The is no impetus for change. The common denominator, of course, is that none of them want to commit to any semblance of what we would call a "stable" life. That's for married people. Obviously, Anonder falls in this category. While the final destination of Costa Rico Cinco may not even be Costa Rica, it is symbolic of the need to avoid stability. There can be no stability anyway. That's an oxymoron for middle-aged single guys.
Babes don't go through this sort of nonsense. I don't see too many single babes clamoring to move to Costa Rica. That's the big difference. It is not in the nature of babes to seek unstable lives. They want stability. Single babes have a hard time. They really don't want to be wage slaves because they know they have options. Few want to marry themselves to a career. Guys have no choice.
The weather has been somewhat strange this year. There's been more rain than usual. Hawai'i Kai is extremely green for this time of year. The vegetation on Koko Crater is completely filled in. Remember that there was a big fire last year which burned most of the face of the crater. Even Diamond Head in Waikiki is green. The Windward side always rains, but now it rains even more.
The kitchen sink in moms' house is plugged again. This happens every few months. Naturally, there was a lot of mixing of chemicals, the primary ingredient being chlorine bleach. I don't say anything anymore. After repeated clogging, one would think that it's fairly easy to deduce how the garbage disposal is not a trash can. The Styrofoam trays are still around in abundance as well. This really is the essence of my family. It's a struggle that reveals the plantation economy which remains at the core of my existence.
Monday May 24
I have tentatively decided to sell my six-four before the year is out. The sooner the better. Shirley always used to ask, "Why don't you get a regular car?" A while back, I told her that I didn't want to own any vehicle. "What if you have a date?" she asked. Owning a vehicle for that purpose has got to be the most stupid reason I have heard. I've got to cut costs, and I hate to drive. The latter is reason enough for me to sell the six-four. I am up in the air about my cell phone. The contract is almost up. I am dropping to a lower rate plan next month, but I should just get rid of it. The only expense that is justified is my gym membership. That stays.
I thought about completely deleting the LoserNet SuperSite and its mirror. However, this site, as stupid as it seems, is now all I have left in my life. It showcases my lack of talent, and my ability to use marginal talent for no express purpose. The one aspect of this site that spared its demise is the small section called LoserNet Radio. Remember the foolish CD called "Sinister Force" by Comic Sans Lavahead? And remember my cheesy Palm handheld application called Psycho"? It's still there. Can you find it? In the end, it is as John in Modesto pointed out — one has to peruse the whole site to understand it or its creator.
Overall, another uneventful day. I am preparing for my interview for the Visiting Professor position. I have decided to swallow my pride and do the audition. Don't these fools know that I'm the CEO of LoserNet? Sheesh! That's when I started thinking about this site. I remember a guy named Bryon whose site "The Semi-Existence of Bryon" was in direct competition with LoserNet. He had a real-life journal, which catapulted him to fame but brought quite a few problems with it. I believe that he had experienced a large-scale fiasco of what happened with my former friend. It was too real. Later, he faded into obscurity. Just today, there was a news item about some chick whose blog caused quite a furor. She was another Washington intern who got involved in a sex scandal. Naturally, she will get an advance to write a book. Then, it will become a movie. She will be laughing all the way to the bank. Why can't that happen to the old loser? Obviously, I am not scandalous enough.
Pseudo-professors Glenn and Ralph are trying to persuade me to sell the townhouse. They believe that the market has topped out. I am not certain of that. I chatted briefly with Pseudo-professor Kai again. I found out that he came to Hawai'i via China. He's thinking about going back. His decisions seem to be based primarily on babes. "The women in Hawai'i are too manly. They have tattoos, and they all smoke," he told me. "They are too aggressive." Say what?
Tuesday May 25
There are still six more chapters of the journal to prune. I'm not sure when that will be completed. I also verified that the certified mail was delivered yesterday afternoon. Incidentally, Jessica Cutler is the chick with the scandalous blog. She apparently was making a lot of dough with a side business. She kept the blog because it was easier to inform friends about her life than e-mail. Isn't that what we Web journalists all say? Sheesh! I saw Lori's former friend, Ann, on the express bus yesterday. We chatted for a bit. She got off at Aina Haina to walk back home for exercise.
An uneventful day. The Asylum is in complete chaos, but I am not even sure how to describe it. I am not certain if I can last the rest of the year there. The Dean's assistant is taking over as the Director of Education. There will no longer be a Dean. She has already made it clear that she is delegating most of her responsibilities to Ernie and I. Then, Ernie is claiming that the John Burns School of Medicine at the UH is going to hire him. This is obviously a cheesy ploy to see if he can get a pay raise. Bill, one of the faculty, is apparently going to be terminated unless he can provide documentation of his education and certification. I find this particularly odd since Ernie allegedly has nothing himself. Roxanne, the Director of Financial Aid, claims that the Dean's assistant was promoted without the knowledge of the new owner, Sam. The new Job Placement director was a former temp person. She demanded more money than the Asylum was willing to pay. Surprise, she got it! She is only going to be answering phones because it was made clear that the coordinators are now fulfilling the job placement functions. There's more, but I am close to losing my mind.
I checked the resale value of my six-four. For "good" condition, I can probably ask a maximum of $4,935 or so. Of course, that's in theory. I've got to divest myself of my six-four because most of the middle-aged single guys whom I know don't own cars. That's because the guys I know are all poor, just like me. It doesn't make sense to own a car in Hawai'i anyway. Next year, the car dealers are expecting to sell record numbers of cars. Can you imagine what the traffic will be like?
In perusing Anonder's Journal, I came across a quote which pretty much explains the plight of the middle-aged single guy:
I'm getting restless again. The problem isn't with living alone nor with spending most my time lying in bed, masturbating and reading, but rather that I feel burdened down somehow, sunk into materialism, due to renting this apartment, owning furniture and other physical possessions, and living in a fixed place. I long to be homeless, living out of a suitcase the way I was during my recent trip, drifting from cheap hotel room to cheap hotel room, but without the business of walking so much.
It kind of reminds me of the Summer when I was homeless. It was tiring, but I had a great time. What more does one need than a handful of minor necessities? And, as I recall, Anonder does not own a car either. All I really need is my computer. Specifically, I need one of those new Apple PowerBooks. I am interested in using the new GarageBand software. I thought about this because of LoserNet Radio. Looks like fun. Apple computers are fun machines.
Finally, I had to mail bomb my closed e-mail accounts in order to force them over the storage limit. Otherwise, no message is returned to the sender that the account is useless. Ideally, I just want one e-mail address, but that's not going to happen.
Wednesday May 26
The one obstacle to most of my plans is the situation with moms. I don't have any immediate family left except for moms and the Ninja Turds. Pops passed on a few years ago. Moms is probably going to live to be 120 years old, which is going to lock me almost permanently in Hawai'i. That's part of family obligation. What can I do? That's another reason I am going nuts. It gives me no consolation to think that the Ninja Turds will actually be able to care for moms in the later years. Right now, these are the last few good years of my own life and I am wasting them away as a wage slave. With all the drinking, I'll probably kick the bucket before moms. As it stands, I am not going to make it through the year with my sanity intact. For the most part, though, I enjoy being alone. I just don't like being alone and up to my ears in debt.
The situation at the Asylum is reaching critical mass. Everything is now in a state of total chaos and anarchy. Confusion abounds as rumors and falsehoods circulate rampantly. Stories change by the hour. All loyalties have been challenged, leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. Sound almost like a new chapter of "Mad Max," eh? I had to tell Bill about his pending demise. He went off. The Dean is now apparently trying to remedy the situation by using stall tactics with the accreditation council. I suspect that he used this same method to cover-up for Ernie.
Lori and I ate lunch at Jamba Juice. I had seen her on the express bus in the morning. Lately, we have been discussing the perils of growing old ungracefully. Both she and I are somewhat vain in this respect. Yet, can you blame us? I also discussed my Costa Rica plan. "That's one of the dumbest things you've come up with yet," she said. However, I argued that middle-aged singles guys have no use for the "stable" life. I confided in her that I won't make it through the year as an encumbered wage slave. I feel like a trapped animal. We walked around town before parting company. I had my interview at the Diploma Mill at 2pm. I performed my audition first. I doubt that I will be chosen, but I gave it a shot anyway.
Needless to say, the overall nonsense is building up to a fever pitch. I give myself six months before my mind snaps. I would disclose my plans here, but I don't have any. As always, I am "winging it." I suppose that I should take inventory of my life to determine what I did wrong, whom I wronged, and find redemption. There was a time that I did just that. Did it matter? The only life that matters to people is their own, if even that. We deal with so many people on a daily basis that there is no time to care for anyone. In time, we are all forgotten. That is why I started the journal. It is a verbal snapshot of the people and places that make up my life. I don't write it for any audience. On a side note, I was reading some of the material from the earliest chapters of the journal. What a riot! Yes, those are true stories. The real humorous part is the incessant babbling about babes. I remember when I first decided that I should always have the babe situation as the on-going theme. I had surveyed a number of Web journals and discovered that the topic was always the same old thing. I decided to approach the babe situation from a new slant — the loser's point of view. Well, things got out of hand, especially during the troubled break-up with Lori. I became more analytical. I filled in the blanks with outrageous speculation. However, that is why this journal exists. It's the Journey of the Mind. In fact, I still suggest that people read Anonder's "Vindication of the Life of the Mind." I can't expect anyone to understand unless they have embarked on the same journey. It's a tireless passion that could be put to better use. Yet, the journal has redeemed itself many times over. One day, everyone will understand.
Thursday May 27
An uneventful day, although the chaos continues at the Asylum. One of my classes at the Diploma Mill is being canceled, so I will see my income reduced for the Summer. Frankly, I don't care. I'll make $600 less per month, but my sanity may be given a reprieve. I read Mr. Ray's blog yesterday, and I am somewhat concerned about him. Mr. Ray had also sent me a couple of e-mail last week. He did not say what happened, but I am concerned nonetheless. The only excitement today was when Glen, Danny, Bryan, and I went to Art's Hideaway for lunch. All they talked about was babes. It never ends.
This will be a long weekend. I have a lot of things to do. I hope that I can clean up this site by then. It's taken me a while to go through the chapters that need editing. I am still finding mistakes. Everything should be on-line by next week. The deal is that I am preparing the site for ultimate archiving. In other words, I am looking at ending the world's longest running Web journal. My life is falling apart and I should spend more time repairing it instead.
Friday May 28
I chatted with Lori on the express bus this morning. Lately, she seems perturbed with my ideas and plans. She has an ideal existence. Currently, she and her husband are remodeling their house. Mind you, if I had a stable life, I might be inclined to engage in projects like that. However, I am in a terribly unstable position. I am now exactly at the point where I will have to decide to sell the townhouse or to rent it out. My employment at the Asylum will either come through termination or my resignation. I do not expect this drag on past six months.
Kevin had his potluck party. I do not have any classes, so I did not participate. I did stop by to eat. Kevin is leaving tonight. He and his wife are going on an Alaskan cruise. I was very happy for them. There was a small farewell party for the Dean. Only a small handful of people showed up. It's so pathetic to see the political lines still drawn on his last day. I spoke with him in confidence for a few minutes. He seems to believe that my position is safe. I did not agree with him. Aside from looking for another job, my only strategy is to request that I be returned back to faculty status. The only problem is that the enrollment is so low that there is no guarantee of securing classes. I will continue with my duties until Fall term. Hopefully, I will have a different job or there will be enough classes for me to facilitate.
I was glad to see Pseudo-professors Bill and Ralph in the faculty computer room later in the afternoon. Pseudo-professor Bill asked if I was passing through Waikiki anytime this weekend. He wants us to go out for drinks. I'll probably take him up on that. He's also interested in possibly buying my six-four. I quoted him the Bluebook price. He didn't flinch. I am determined to sell my six-four before the year is out. I also want to buy an Apple Powerbook, but that's another story.
So many decisions to make, and so little time. Anonder posted a very interesting response on Speak! IV:
You are, after all, "past the age of ambition". This phrase expresses a very important and overlooked concept. To wit, as we grow older, it becomes increasingly difficult to postpone gratification. We sense to a stronger and stronger degree that the tomorrow for which we are preparing may never arrive and that therefore life should be enjoyed now. It is quite possible that this feeling that "the future is now" might cause you to a mild nervous breakdown, such that you either quit or get yourself fired from your jobs. You need to plan for this eventuality. Especially, you should avoid long-term financial committments, such as owning real-estate or being locked into long leases and other contracts.
This is, of course, a major reason that I am going through mid-life crisis. Younger people cannot even begin to grasp the notion because they believe that they have a lot more time. A pathetic illusion. The last twenty years went by in a wink of an eye. Hence, another reason that I keep the journal. The last eight years are fully documented, more so in the most recent years. It probably takes over three weeks of steady reading to complete the journal. That's not a wink of an eye. Our personal histories are quite elaborate. Yet, what do we remember? That's brings me to the issue of the former friend and the journal. I am certain that she has never returned to read the journal, since I am sure that she is significantly repulsed by it. It is true that I had a thing for her. I never acted upon that, even though I told her. I keep my thoughts to myself, and basically recorded them in the journal. It is my fault that I am always tempted to weave a tale much more fantastic than it is. After all, I am a frustrated writer. I elaborated on my minor thoughts in a way that was oftentimes not complimentary. I see that much of this is a byproduct of the [UJ] Archives, the Pandora's Box that I now keep closed. I am sure that my former friend was even more overwhelmed by the possibility that everybody was reading the journal. That's an illusion created by the Net. I monitor the site statistics daily. I also designed the crappy navigation of this site, so it extremely difficult to get here. In addition, I stopped indexing the journal many months ago. The deepest recesses of the site are locked out from search engines using established standards. The message boards were the weakest point. Whatever I told the former friend in e-mail or in person supersedes what was in the journal. The journal is often just a compendium of observations and conjecture.
We all have to be honest with ourselves. Human frailty always allows for thoughts and action that often contradict what is truly in our hearts. We all have this weakness. A small embryo of evil. The chink in the armor. We constantly vacillate on everything, but we make our final judgments based on conscience and values. Then, we forget all of the intermediate processes. That's the major disadvantage of a good journal or a good diary. In the end, it does not matter. the outcome will never change. I deeply hurt the former friend's feelings. That will never be repaired in this lifetime. It was highly fortunate that Lori and I became friends again. It tooks years. As for the former friend, only time will tell. We most likely will never be friends again.
I don't keep a printed copy of the journal. I don't keep photographs either. Because of my long-standing belief in mendicance, I only maintain digital archives. It takes less space. My computer has no back-up. The only other archives are on the Net. Everything is exactly the same. Deletions and editing are universal. It's really too bad that life can't be that way.
Saturday May 29
I was blinded by my own stupidity as I found myself torn between the material world and what I really want. There is a lot of social and peer pressure to conform. As a middle-aged single guy, I had no reason to be pulled into the vortex. All it has done is bring me a lot of problems which, in effect, may cause me to suffer a "mild nervous breakdown" as Anonder stated. When Anonder moved into his new place in the worst part of town, he divested himself of his prized possession — the sausage-shaped sofa. Later, he began sleeping on the floor. This is exactly the kind of life-style that I led when I lived in the Roach Motel in Convalescent City. From what I can tell, Anonder has not owned a vehicle in a long time. For urban dwellers, this makes too much sense. It is obvious that I must make real decisions now that my employment status is in permanent jeopardy. I can continue to seek out marginal jobs just to maintain a so-called "standard of living." However, the latter is well beyond what I need. Or, I can divest myself of everything and seek ultimate freedom. As I've mentioned many times, the computer can replace almost every useless possession. My iBook has everything except GarageBand.
I left early for Kane'ohe. I stopped off at Pier 1 to pick up the rattan settee. It actually fit in my six-four. I arrived in time to transfer ownership of the furniture. Now, the place is pretty empty. All of the other stuff was hauled off to Goodwill. I spent the day there. I bought a sandwich at Subway for lunch. Then, I drank enormous quantities of wine. I passed out on the floor at least three times. Finally, when I came to, I decided to leave. Pseudo-professor Bill called. He wanted to meet in Waikiki to watch the Laker's game. Caroll also called. She is still unemployed. She's ready to pack it in and movc on.
Due to significant cash flow problem, I am contemplating selling almost everything that I have, which isn't much at this point in time. This is about all I can do to survive. Big headache. The wine has really taken effect. I am pretty much unable to think or function, so I will probably lapse into a coma soon. Well, hey! I'm a loser!
Sunday May 30
It's been a long time since I've discussed shady politics. I almost lost my mind when I discovered how bamboozled people were and how adamant they were about staying that way. Now, things have changed. It turns out that the alternative media was correct all along. There's a big mess out there, but I am past the point to even comment. The "truth" is finally getting out. Not that it matters. With each passing day, I am also watching to see whether the alternative financial media will have its day. There's been some interesting stuff lately. Perhaps I will be talking about this nonsense now that I've become a monk again.
It's actually funny how most single guys can live a mendicant life-style. A bachelor pad is usually devoid of anything but the essentials. Is the need to travel light intrinsic to guys only? Is the wanderlust also specific to guys? There are few exceptions to the rule. Mark, for one, has a nice one-bedroom condo in Hawai'i Kai. It's almost paid off. He also has a nice nestegg put away for retirement. I have often asked him why he just doesn't quit his job and sell his condo. He could embark on a wonderful journey. Yet, he seems destined to continue to toil in wage slavery well into his sixties. The Master continues to toil in Convalescent City. He still lives in the same apartment. He's been there for decades. Yet, he has no life. I asked him why he continues on. Aside from saving for retirement, he doesn't really know why. It's not like any of us are doing anything meaningful. Nor are we pursuing any kind of passion. We are living day-to-day like automatons. All of this planning to insure that we can live out our years in a convalescent home is meaning less. To be bedridden with a miserable disease is probably the worst kind of prison. No matter how nice the rest home, the experience will still be intolerable.
So, the crossroads are finally coming up for me. I attempted to live it up before the moment of truth. So, here it is, right around the corner. Now is probably the most important time for the journal. I will chronicle my every step into this quagmire of uncertainty. The target date is the Big Five-O. I have reduced my general plan to one point only— emancipation. From whatever I am enslaved to — be it cheap booze, libido, wage slavery, material possessions, idiocy — I must emancipate myself from that crap. I leave all of that for the rest of society. Everyone is doing a great job of killing themselves and others for a piece of the pie. I have my pie, my Apple iBook, and that's all I need.
Interestingly enough, I discovered that Anonder had posted something to Speak IV right after I uploaded the journal this morning. I will respond to a few points in the next chapter. First, let's discuss this boring day now, shall we? I embarked on the same nauseating journey to Kane'ohe. However, the trip turned out to be quite pleasant. I made the transfer easily at Ala Moana. The bus was not crowded, nor was filled with psychos. I started my drinking day immediately. What else can I do in an empty townhouse? I almost passed out again, but I decided to leave early. I returned to town and got off at the Ward Center. Rather than peruse the Pier 1 store yet again, I went for a stroll in Ala Moana Beach Park. It was a beautiful day. The park was packed. There were a lot of hotties, but I didn't notice. I walked back to Ala Moana Center. I had time to stop in the Apple Store. The place was so crowded, I didn't have a chance to peruse the PowerBooks. I was able to check out Speak IV from one of the G4 iBooks. I caught the next bus home. Then, I went for my tanning hike up Koko Head.
I was planning to go to Kahala Mall this evening, but I changed my mind. Frankly, I don't feel like doing anything anymore. I am too stressed out. I will delineate on this matter shortly. Mr. Ray sent e-mail. Glad to see that he's okay. Well, we're all okay, but it doesn't mean we'll remain sane much longer. He commented on the rather pitiful layout of LoserNet. This is deliberate. I could spend more time on making the site look nice, but it doesn't matter. In reality, I was inspired by Anonder's journal. Check it out and you'll see what I mean. Right now it's time to Hele on, braddah!
To be continued ... Go to E.01
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