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The Exodus Files
Family of None — Party of One

Monday September 27, 2004

In some of my latest sermons to my students, I mention that, as we grow older, we should try to minimize our regrets. We will always have regrets, but the fewer the better. I had carefully planned out my life a long time ago. I made quite a few mental calculations and projections. I valued my youth, so I decided early on that I would not become an indentured wage slave until my later years (read: now). My projections, of course, were based upon my perception of aging and geriatrics. In retrospect, I realize that I miscalculated. Mind you, I had a blast when I was younger. However, I never fully exploited my potential. I always held back. And, thus, I was really locked in mediocrity. Fast-forward 30 years. Here I am, living in deep regret. I never predicted that I would end up a hapless victim to a shithead like "Samhain." I was too idealistic and, perhaps, too naïve. I placed faith in the "eleventh hour" concept, which really did carry me through some odd times. Even now, I may be redeemed in the eleventh hour. I had purchased Chez Loser with the express purpose of moving out of the "cocoon." It may end up being my savior in another way. If and when I rent it out, it will generate enough income to pay for itself while building equity. I will benefit from the various tax deductions as well. It will also allow me to resign from the Asylum. I should be able to afford rent and a health plan with a modest income. Everything sounds good, no? Well, the wrench that gets thrown into the works is my advanced age. I am officially a senior citizen in two months. Essentially, my life is over. Any aspirations of finding a babe are gone. I will have to fend for myself as a helpless old fart. In the model that I created 30 years ago, I never even imagined a life like this. How could I have known?

An uneventful day. I walked to the gym in Koko Marina this morning. I did my usual workout. I left for town on the 11am bus. I arrived close to noon. I did not get much done. I called the State tax office and was put on hold forever. I finally decided to search the State Web site to find the tax license application. The site's search engine was useless. I was able to find the document with Netscape's search. I ended up chatting with Professor Russell. Somehow we got on the discussion about the difference between Kailua and Kane'ohe. He lives in Kailua. He tried to persuade me that Kane'ohe was a dump. I was a little perturbed because Chez Loser is located there. He also went through every possible negative reason to not rent out Chez Loser. I became quite skeptical of his motivation. I also chatted with Pseudo-professors Bill and Glenn. I was able to get a little work done between my classes. On the way to the bus stop, I ran into Aaron, one of my former students. He knows a friend who may be interested in buying my six-four. He will contact me via e-mail. On the express bus, I chatted with Ryan, one of the regulars. He works as a database programmer for one of the State offices. We had an interesting chat about computers. Of course, he's a Windows guy, so I had to hear about his dislike for Macs. I don't take it personally. Ryan lives in the "cocoon" as well.

Upon my arrival back in Hawai'i Kai, I noticed that I received a driver's license renewal from Cali. The catch is that I cannot renew by mail this time. I am not flying to Cali just to renew my license. And, several years ago, I vowed that I would never take another driving test again. Will I be true to my word? As all of you can see, I am being tested right down to the bitter end. However, it is timely that I may have a buyer for my six-four. This will be my first big step to exit society. I had already decided that I would not buy another car ever again. Now, I have to decide whether I will drive at all. If I let my Cali license expire, I will have to take both the written and driving test. If I surrender my Cali license now, I may get by with just the written exam. Even that seems like too much trouble to me. Why not just end this charade now? I can just hear Shirley — "What if you have a date?" I have never been on a date in my life. That is certainly not going to change now. However, being without a car or a driver's license is definitely not going to be a selling point. Heck, a car is just one big expense anyway. I would be just one accident away from losing my shirt in a lawsuit, too. It's just not worth the risk.

Not owning a car will not change much about my life-style. I will need to divest myself of any useless possession that is too large to carry on the bus. That pretty much leaves me with my beloved iBook. Nothing else really matters. As I become less and less dependent on my useless possessions, I find no real purpose to work any harder or longer than I am now. Chez Loser gave me a brief sense of purpose but it, too, is just a useless possession. If I rent it out or sell it, then I won't have any place to go or any real purpose to work. I will have too much free time. I am already at a loss about what to do when I am not working. I don't plan on purchasing a tube, which means that I will continue to have many more hours of free time. The proverbial fork in the middle of the road is coming up soon. Which path will I take?

Tuesday September 28

What makes the decision to stop driving forever so hard? There's going to be 68,000 more cars on Hawai'i roads every year. There will be traffic jams everywhere. However, we've been indoctrinated to believe that car ownership is a requirement to be a functioning member of society. Our life-styles, social lives, and status are all dependent on the type of cars we drive. Only the extremely poor and the homeless have no wheels. And, no babe would even look at a guy without a car. This is the dilemma facing me as the expiration of my driver's license draws near.

An uneventful day. Judith, one of the Asylum faculty, asked me to do the team talk for her class. I was greeted by a very negative audience. It's becoming obvious that the students are very dissatisfied with the new scheduling. They are also sick of hearing the shit that spooky ol' Al came up with. A group of Ernie's medical office students are circulating a petition to present to "Samhain." I have a feeling that Ernie is behind it. Nothing is going to stop "Samhain" from his incessant money grubbing. I was on the go for the rest of the day. I forgot to pack my slippahs (read: slippers), so I had to buy a pair at Long's. I use them in the shower at the gym. Each day that I forget to pack something ends up costing me money that I don't need to spend. I facilitated my math class at the Diploma Mill. I went to the gym for a quick workout. I bought a couple of bean burritos at Taco Bell for dinner. Then, I walked back to the Asylum for my night class. I am at the point of total exhaustion with these night classes. The highlight of the day was when I discovered that my 401(k) account had rolled over into the new account.

I told my class at the Diploma Mill about my driver's license fiasco. Since I am soon to be a senior citizen, I told them, I should voluntarily take myself off the road. They laughed and made a few funny remarks. Obviously, they do not know that I am really going to be a senior citizen in two months. Foolishly, I pondered the babe situation today. It's a very depressing concept. I know that my "parallel lives" buddy, Robert, has been ruminating about it as well. I believe that we are both at the crossover point between denial and acceptance. I mean, what else can we do? I am already quite certain that no babes are interested in us. We have been completely single for so many years that we know no other life-style. It is, of course, the biology that short circuits all reasoning. "Raging hormones" is how Robert describes it. We will both be driven berserk unless these surges subside or finally become dormant. For me, this is the residual effects of my mid-life crisis. Actually, the symptoms of the latter never abated. When I was pushed down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs to the survival level, I instinctively quelled those symptoms. With life gradually stabilizing, the pangs of the mid-life crisis are returning.

Caroll called and left a message this morning. I was not able to return her call until this evening. I only chatted with her briefly. She is planning to visit Hawai'i at the end of October. She is most likely going to stay at a hotel because of the uncertainty of the disposition of Chez Loser. I could let her stay there, but she would not know how to get around. Kane'ohe is not in Honolulu proper. There are only three bus routes that service the area. The only bus stop is several blocks away. It would actually be better if Caroll waited until sometime next year. Right now, my life is in major flux. I am living day-to-day.

Wednesday September 29

I walked to the gym at Koko Marina to do my cardio workout. The bus ride to town was uneventful. I arrived at noon. I tried to get some work done in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. However, Professor Russell ended up chatting with me. There is a new psychology pseudo-professor Her name is Caroline. She's an ebony babe. She's also a hottie. I only bring this up for the sake of bringing it up. Nothing more. Nothing less. I went to the gym between classes at the Diploma Mill. I had to attend a SimNet meeting at 4pm, the same time as my second class. It was not a very informative meeting. I ate a Spam Musubi for dinner. Then, I walked to the Asylum for my night class. Milton, one of the IT guys, told me that there are only five new paid applicants for the next six-week term. It seems that my prediction is coming true. As I've said before, the problem at the Asylum is that the core is rotten. No amount of marketing is going to help. Greed is what motivated "Samhain" to reduce the term to six weeks. He reasoned with himself that he could double the enrollment by having double the registration periods. He did not take into account that the students are people just like the employees. In his eyes, one group is a cash cow, the other is a liability. When "Samhain" made his pact with the Satanic Order of the Demon of Money (SODOM), he did not realize that he would die a thousand deaths. Payback is a fucking bitch!

The implication, of course, is that we'll all be unemployed once the Asylum shuts down. My prediction, as you may recall, is that the downward trend will become significant on V-day next year. The Asylum will shut its doors for the last time by Summer. Naturally, I am not going to come out of this unscathed. Yet, I am actually looking forward to his event. Seeing "Samhain" lose his precious money will just make me laugh my fucking ass off. Kim, Brad, and all of the other "tools" will also suffer. They worship and offer sacrifices at the same filthy altar that "Samhain" does.

Malia sent e-mail. She resigned from the police department. She is most likely being hired for a civil service position at Pearl Harbor. I wrote back and gave her details about what's been happening. I told her that the Asylum is even worse than the time period when Roach was there. All of that crap is recorded in the journal. Even with the impending demise of the Asylum, I feel no anxiety. I am at peace with myself tonight. I feel as though my redemption is coming. There is a better life ahead.

Thursday September 30

An uneventful day. As usual, I go through the motions of a pseudo-professor. There was a going away party for Ann, the former Executive Director of the Asylum. Roach, Maria, and several other people from the past showed up. I stayed for only a few minutes. To me, it was all a sickening denouement to the wretched experience that is the Asylum. Everyone was smiling and making gratuitous remarks when, in reality, they all despise each other. At least I got a free lunch out of the deal. Roach even chatted with Kevin. The slimeball did not even give me the time of day. The evil worshippers of the Satanic Order of the Demon of Money (SODOM) are like family. I am not one of them. I felt much better when I exited the tomb of the living dead. I facilitated my math class at the Diploma Mill. I did my workout at the gym. My evening class at the Asylum went well. One of the students brought a pizza for all of us.

I chatted with Robert briefly. He is working on a case. He will be representing a friend of his in Circuit Court. This will be the first time that he's practiced actual law in a long time. Naturally, we had a token discussion about the babe situation. Ryan, former faculty at the Asylum, stopped by this morning at the dump. I was able to chat with him for a while. He's only visiting Hawai'i for five days. Then, he's heading back to the mainland. I tried to fill him in on what's been happening at the Asylum. He was shocked. Well, I was extremely tired when I arrived back in Hawai'i Kai. I am just going to relax for the evening. One more day of wage slavery before the weekend. Sheesh!

Friday October 1

I chatted briefly with Lori on the express bus this morning. Lately, I have not been in the mood to chat at all. I was in a bad way for most of the day. I am extremely fatigued with my current schedule. The bus rides in the evening do not help. I am backlogged with work, but I have not any effort to catch up. I am not going to stress out, especially considering the chump change that I am earning. I chatted with Pseudo-professor Dorothy this morning. She may be able to help me find a new home for my furniture. I also called my insurance company. I can set up a policy specifically for rental property at a cost of $165 per year. I'm pretty much ready to make the decision to rent. I should be able to rent Chez Loser as early as November 1st. One of the students in my math class just joined the gym. He's starting up a new student martial arts club. I ran into him today just as I arrived at the gym. He asked me if I would be the faculty advisor for the club. I agreed and signed the paperwork.

My afternoon classes at the Diploma Mill did not go well. My patience is at an all-time low, mainly because of the Asylum. Each and every day presents new challenges for me. I no longer even want to work. There's no purpose. Seeing all of the hotties running around town is also starting to get to me. I am becoming weak again in this regard. I keep questioning myself about why I cannot find a babe. Naturally, as with Robert, I am attracted to babes that are way out of my league. It is apparent that the symptoms of mid-life crisis are ramping up again. The babe situation is difficult to combat. The only cure is to live in a very remote area with no people around. This affliction will eventually lead to insanity. As I've mentioned before, I am certain that Robert is on Prozac because of the babe situation. It is depressing. A guy's masculinity is completely tied to babes. It is a biological need. "Mind over matter" can effectively suppress these desires under normal circumstances. However, when one is extremely fatigued and physically weakened, the task is nearly impossible. Emotionally, I am also drained. This further exacerbates the situation. My judgment has also been severely impaired as well as my ability to make decisions. A good example is the disposition of Chez Loser. It has taken me two months to look into renting it. I am fortunate that I can still make the mortgage payments.

I did not go on the Art Walk this evening. My class ended at 5pm, so I would have missed the Indigo Happy Hour. I also did not hear from Pseudo-professor Glenn. We would have had to meet at one of the art galleries. I was too tired anyway. The express bus was 30 minutes late as well. Kick a man when he's down. Sheesh! I was perusing the Apple site today. All I really want is a new Mac. I am going to wait until the G5 PowerBooks come out, which may be another year. My computer is really all that I need. It does everything. So, why does the babe situation keep popping up?

Saturday October 2

I neglected to mention that I caught about ten minutes of the presidential debate on the tube at the gym. I must have been there at the opportune moment because I was privy to one of Shrub's least lucid moments. He was stammering and babbling. Shrub's handlers apparently did a crummy job of training him. It's really easy to see why we're going to hell in a handbasket. We're living in troubled times. Natural disasters are increasing. Heck, Mount St. Helens is ready to blow again. The world political situation is totally out of control. This idiotic venture into Iraq has spiraled out of control. Materialism and hedonism is at an all-time high. When world oil peaks, we're going to be in deep shit. The whole world has gone berserk. What are we going to do?

I'm not even certain if it's worth the trouble to fret over money. World economic conditions are entirely unstable. The root cause is greed as usual. At the moment, I plan to keep Chez Loser and rent it out for a minimum of two years. I should be able to cover the mortgage and maintenance fees with the rent and the tax deductions. In the meantime, I will continue in wage slavery for as long as I can stand it. I will continue to save and invest the dough as prudently as possible. I will continue to divest myself of my useless possessions until I am down to just my iBook (or PowerBook). My six-four must be sold within the next two months. Selling off my possessions is one of my least favorite tasks. It is a chore to list these things for sale. Then, haggling with idiots to negotiate a price is even more taxing on the sanity. I may just end up donating everything to Goodwill or the Salvation Army. There is no point to saving for retirement. That money will only be assets that are easily frozen to pay off delinquent medical bills. In effect, the money changers have designed a foolproof system to rob us all. They make money using our money as we save for retirement. Then, when we retire, we are saddled with questionable medical bills that put us right into bankruptcy. These crooks capitalize on fear. What will you do when Social Security goes bust? Who will pay for your long-term care? What will supplement your modest Medicare benefits? So, everyone socks away the money for decades while using extended credit to survive now.

I made the benign journey to Chez Loser. The bus ride went smoothly including the transfer to the Windward-bound bus. When I arrived, I immediately filled a glass of wine for consumption, one of many that followed. I walked to Ace Hardware to buy a door bumper and also to make two sets of keys. When I returned to Chez Loser, I discovered that the keys did not work. So, I will have to take them back tomorrow. I was quite hammered by the time I left. The bus ride back to Hawai'i Kai went smoothly because I was able to transfer with no problem. I did my yardboy chores, something that I don't particularly enjoy. The WeedWhacker is on its last leg, which did not help. I was feeling a little perturbed this evening, so I took the bus to Kahala Mall. I bought a smoothie at Jamba Juice, even though I cannot afford it. Naturally, I ended up at Barnes & Noble. I left an hour later. I will spend the rest of the evening with my beloved iBook.

My agitation today seems to have centered on my loser life-style. I am sick of this shit. I no longer have any spending money. There is also the on-going inner struggle about my useless possessions. Then, there's Chez Loser. I have mixed feelings about the place. Sometimes I wish that I had bought a place in Waikiki. It would be a lot more fun. I could walk to the beach and hang out there until the wee hours of the morning. Or, I could walk around and blend in with the tourists. Yet, I know that I would quickly tire of it. Waikiki is extremely noisy and extremely crowded. Frankly, I don't know what to do anymore. I am also tired of going places by myself. I have no friends. Well, the people in my age group are either married or they are just not the kind of people whom I care to hang out with. I am too old to hang out with younger people. Therefore, I have no choice. I will just have to deal with it.

Moms is fully recovered. I saw a whole mess of food in the fridge this morning, which meant that the Ninja Turds were going to stop by. Moms hasn't cooked for the Turds in over two weeks. I have no clue about whether or not the Turds will be moving back at the end of the year. The thought itself is nauseating. Sheesh! There are actual plans to ship garbage to the mainland from Hawai'i. That's right. We're burying ourselves in trash. No one seems to realize that we live on an island. That's also why we are adding 68,000 more cars on the road per year. We are also paving over every vacant parcel of land or putting dwellings on them. The most growth is occurring on former Campbell Estate land from Kapolei to Ewa Beach. The most affordable housing is in that area. With thousands of new homes being planned, one would think that the housing "bubble" story may be true. The problem with West O'ahu is the traffic. It's already bad, and there is no way to solve the problem. The land is also formerly agricultural. No one knows how much pesticide and other chemicals have leached into the the soil and groundwater. I don't expect any housing crisis to affect Kane'ohe. Growth has been limited and there are three major routes into town. It's a pretty town, nestled along the breathtaking Ko'olau mountains. Chez Loser lies in the coveted Haiku area. Alas, does it even matter?

Sunday October 3

I had a few days to ruminate of Anonder's latest comments on Speak! IV. He has apparently been living out in the wilderness with no modern conveniences. He spends most of his days trekking through the terrain. His idle moments are only filled with dreams. No tube. No Playstation. Well, he also engages in the "Sacred Bone Fire" ritual. The point of his treatise was that I would find myself in a similar plight once I retire, voluntarily or otherwise. Heck, I already am bored stiff. My reclusive personality has made it impossible for me to tolerate even moderate crowds. So, my choices are very limited. Anonder warned that I would eventually go insane. One has to wonder if this warning is coming from his own experience. I sense that Anonder is similar to myself and Robert. He will remain single for his lifetime. Robert and I have an additional caveat — we will also remain celibate.

Once again, I made the benign trek to Chez Loser. I really did not want to go. However, I had to resolve the situation with the non-working keys. I walked over to Ace Hardware after I got off the bus. I was able to have the keys made again. When I arrived at Chez Loser, I discovered that the new keys still did not work. I am not going back to Ace again. I will have to spend more money and have a real locksmith make the keys. I did some minor repairs to the shitty cabinetry. By that time, I really needed a drink. So, I downed the rest of the bottle of wine in the fridge. I was hammered in no time. I also cleaned the washer and dryer. Both are ready for the scrap pile. I left at 2pm. I knew that I would not make the transfer to the Hawai'i Kai bus. I looked around Ross for a bit. Actually, all of that junk makes me sick now. I caught the Aina Haina bus and got off in Kaimuki. I enjoyed the last time I sat at the bus stop. There were some high school hotties sitting on the bench in front of me. One of them was carrying on like a ho'. Two punks sat next to me. One punk lit up a cigarette. It was bad enough that I had some fat bitch sitting in the seat adjacent to me during the bus ride back to town. Her body odor was so rancid that I could smell the stench from several feet away. Sometimes it's easy to see why most people will drive at any cost.

I was planning to go to the gym this afternoon, but I was too fatigued. I was also in a really bad way, mainly because of my loser life-style. Caroll had called in the morning. I called her back about five hours later and left a message. I am weaning myself of my cell phone because it eventually has to go. I can no longer afford this luxury. I am in a negative cash flow situation as it stands. With each month, it just gets worse. The more I think about it, the more I realize that Anonder is right. I made a mistake when I purchased Chez Loser, and not because it was a bad investment per se. The truth of the matter is that it does not fit my life-style. I despise material possessions. I only keep buying them because I am bored shitless. I don't really need fancy living quarters. I just need a small hovel with maximum privacy. I don't care for furniture or room decor. It's useless clutter. I despise clutter. Even worse, I do not like to take care of my possessions. It's a complete waste of time. Lately, I observed how people take care of their cars. They spend hours cleaning and waxing what essentially is a status symbol for them. Of course, there's another price to pay. Costly possessions are difficult to replace unless one is Big Money Grip. Thus, property insurance is a requirement. In the end, it brings us back to the topic of wage slavery. This is the complex web that we weave which causes us to become permanently indentured slaves. There's no escape once the cycle has started. That's the message Anonder has given me. It's not that I didn't know any of this since the topic is a recurring theme in the journal. So, why can't I break free of this stupidity once and for all? Why do I seem to dig a deeper hole for myself?

The answer is simple — I am a damned fool. I have the belief that I may actually enter the mainstream, which is about as remote a chance as finding a babe. As with Robert, I have created a complex web of deception to discombobulate myself and maintain a non-committal stance. This, in effect, fools us into believing that we can buy some time. However, we know the truth. Last week, Robert said, "If anything happens, I have approximately 45 days of time." He knows the truth about his own precarious situation. We both know the truth about everything including the babe situation. Facing the truth is another issue. Rather than creating an exodus for myself, I have gone the other way instead. The first thing that needs to be determined is the matter of possessions. I really only need my Bose Acoustic Wave (including my House Music collection) and my iBook. Naturally, other necessities such as clothes, etc. are a given. The rest can go.

Monday October 4

My gripping revelation yesterday has left me quite unnerved. I have been talking about exiting society forever, only to discover that I am even more deeply entrenched than before. Perhaps I should purchase a tube and watch it at every spare moment. Or, I could get a broadband connection and download hurdy-gurdies day and night. That's the reality of being in the mainstream. Sheesh!

I walked to the gym in Koko Marina this morning. Along the way, I realized that I had a slight continence problem. Is this a sign of old age? I won't go into further detail. By the way, the word "continence" has two meanings, one dealing with da wild thing and the other being an old man issue. I took the street bus to town. Moms was on the bus with me for the first time in a very long time. However, moms got off at the Hawai'i Kai Towne Center. I arrived in town around noon. I did some work in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. Robert was there. He is still preparing for his big day in court. He also confessed that he is enamored with one of the two young hotties whom he's been talking about. The two babes are Chinese. They live in the Harbor Court condos in town. Neither has a car. Robert is certain the one babe knows that he is interested in being more than friends. He still want me to keep the other one company while he attempts to mack on his target. I told him that I would help him out. Yet, I am surprised that he does not realize how foolish this venture is. Didn't I already prove to him the futility of hanging out with young hotties? Why is he trying to reinvent the square wheel? It's plain to see that he's now going through his own private hell (i.e., mid-life crisis). These babes are even younger than Shirley. What I really don't understand is how he is going to explain his living arrangements in the "cocoon."

I was feeling slightly under the weather this evening. Perhaps that may explain the continence problem. The fatigue is wearing me down. Although I am looking at retrenching from society and its various traps, I have to look at one simple concept. The further I retrench, the more everything else will shrink around me including opportunities. Income always adjusts to one's standard of living. I have about 75 percent of my assets (not including Chez Loser) in a money market fund. I need to do something with it. I may look into a government bond fund or an inflation-adjusted bond fund. I could also invest in high yield, short-term certificates of deposits. Everything is coming apart at the seams right now. It's the eleventh-hour again. Something tells me that I won't be saved this time. It's up to me to take action to save myself. Will I succeed?

Tuesday October 5

Yesterday. Robert discussed his latest encounter with the babe of his dreams. She's planning to go to law school, so Robert has been helping her out. Of course, he has other motives. She was wearing a skimpy top. Her wares were on display when she leaned over. She also has a pierced belly button and a tattoo. She was driving him wild with desire. His hormones were raging. The story hits close to home. One would be hard-pressed to know that since I had to edit the journal. Those of you who read the journal before it was pruned will easily recall my own brush with insanity. I am quite surprised that the "parallel lives" concept has once again proven true to form. A middle-aged guy goes babe crazy and lusts for young hotties. It's great fodder for the journal, eh?

The From the Wilderness site is focusing rather heavily on the peak oil crisis. I'm in full agreement with Mike Ruppert on this one. I'm no geologist, but I am convinced that peak oil is right around the corner. The abiotic theory of the origin of oil is pure crap. The facts speak for themselves, and nothing is going to divert humanity from a cataclysmic end. Nothing, that is, unless we come to our senses. What worries me is that many of the experts believe peak oil is here now. Our primary problem will be feeding the 6 billion people on this planet. Without industrialized agriculture (which is heavily dependent on petroleum), we can only feed less than half of the existing population. All of these fat slobs who are used to stuffing their faces will go on a food rampage. Pampered fools like "Samhain" will be the main course at a cannibalistic banquet. His god of money will not save him. In addition, sanitary water will become another issue. Money will be completely useless. All of the homes that I and other fools have purchased will be useless. Without power and water, they will be no better than cardboard boxes. In my estimation, now is a good time to start stockpiling an assortment of automatic weapons and ammunition. When all of these fat slobs go on a rampage, there will no choice but to shoot them. There is ample proof that something is clearly wrong. Most of the conflicts happening around the world have something to do with oil. It's a chess game, but no one will end up the winner. With China now becoming a large consumer of oil, the rate of depletion will increase.

The only sane option is to find a young hottie who knows how to wield an Uzi. Then, move with baby to Costa Rica or some other remote location where it is possible to raise crops for food. Naturally, it will be important to maintain an arsenal to protect the food supply. Even in such a remote location, the scene will be straight out of Night of the Living Dead. Instead of zombies running amuck, there will be cannibalistic fat slobs. Mark my words, my friends. Armageddon has arrived!

An uneventful day. I am swamped with the busy work required of faculty at the Asylum. Therefore, I cannot find the time to sell my crap or anything else important. I make sure that I go to the gym. That is a necessity, not a luxury. I have to maintain my health at all costs. I also have to remain physically fit in order to survive the peak oil crisis described earlier. Unfortunately, I had to eat two bean burritos from Taco Bell for dinner. I cannot afford anything better. I have two more weeks left of these night classes. I will miss the late night bus rides. I find that I fit in with this crowd. Most of the passengers are losers.

Wednesday October 6

I walked to the gym in Koko Marina and did a quick cardio workout. Then, I made the journey to town on the street bus. After that, I was on the run. I have very little spare time these days. I also went to the gym again between my two afternoon classes at the Diploma Mill. I ran into Robert in the faculty computer room. He lost the court case yesterday, but he felt good about his performance in the courtroom. It turns out that it would have been a long shot to win the case anyway. He seemed confident about returning to law soon. For his sake, I hope so. He then departed for choir practice with the Diploma Mill Choir. There are apparently a lot of babes in the choir, most of whom are students. Let's hope Robert remembers that he is still considered an employee of the university since he pays into the group health plan. Thus, those babes are off limits. There's no doubt that Robert's motivation is almost entirely dependent on babes, which further verifies that he's going through mid-life crisis.

Rod called and left a message. Caroll also called twice this week and left a message. Shirley also called and left a message on Sunday. I have yet to respond to any of the calls. I do not have enough free minutes on my cell phone plan. I will have to wait until the weekend to make the calls. I have done nothing about my driver's license even though it is set to expire at the end of November. I have not sold the furniture, nor have I done anything to prepare Chez Loser for rental. Perhaps the "parallel lives" concept will take another twist. Maybe I'll end up in bankruptcy.

Thursday October 7

An uneventful day. I am becoming more annoyed by the wage slave's life as the days go on. With so little time left in my life, I keep asking myself why I am wasting it away. I was busy all day, but I really have nothing important to report in the journal. Sometimes my students just zap the life out of me. This generation of students is lethargic, apathetic, and oftentimes downright rude. They are the products of "me, myself, and I"-generation parents. That would be people in my age group. It's probably a good thing that I did not have any kids. I probably would have had to disown them.

When I finally returned to Hawai'i Kai at 8:30pm, I almost collapsed from exhaustion. I have also been dragging at the gym. I have not been able to workout at my usual level. It could be due to the fatigue. Or, perhaps old age is finally catching up with me. Growing old is not a good feeling. I'm sure that Robert feels the same way, especially when he sees all the young hotties running around. As for me, I've to come the realization that it's over. In my dealings with babes throughout the day, I have observed the pathetic decline in their behavior and attitude. There are a lot of hotties, but there really is no one worth the time. I can fully understand why the divorce rates are so high. Most people only hook up via physical attraction. Da wild thing is all that bonds them. That's been my own pathetic experience as well. Since I've been pushed down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, I have not really given much thought to the babe situation as it pertains to myself. At this point in time, I am only concerned about when I will be able to afford a new PowerBook. As far as the babe situation is concerned, I could use my PowerBook to download hurdy-gurdies and engage in the "Sacred Bone Fire" ritual.

Friday October 8

I was awakened at 3am by my cell phone. This morning, I discovered that there was no message and the calling number was blocked. I only know three people with blocked phone numbers. I doubt that Rod called me from Cali. Even if he did, he would have left a message. Kevin called me this afternoon. I knew that he didn't call that early, but I asked anyway. Well, I am not going to try to guess beyond that.

I met with Dimpna, the McGraw-Hill representative this morning. She treated me to coffee and a muffin at Paradise Café. We chatted for over an hour, mostly about the troublesome SimNet package. We also had an interesting discussion about the tube, politics, and some other nonsense. What's funny is that she once had Convalescent City as part of her territory. I had a class at the Asylum. After that, I had to give a make-up quiz to two of my math students at the Diploma Mill. I had two classes there this afternoon. I went to the gym during the break between classes. I ran into one of my math students at the gym, We ended up talking for a few minutes. He's the guy who is starting up the martial arts club that I will be serving as the faculty advisor. He said that he started the math journal. I came up with some "extra credit" work for the class. Hence the math journal. The students will write entries about their class and homework experiences. I wrote a comical specification sheet. I read it aloud in class yesterday, which really added to the levity. The real purpose of the journal is spark some kind of introspection. The students need to understand that a lot of the problems they are having stem from their own attitude and mindset. The only way they will ever understand this is if they discover it on their own.

I read Anonder's latest contribution to Speak! IV. He has returned from his extended camping trip in Europe. What I found astonishing is that he seemed disillusioned by the whole journey once it was over. He wrote, "Now that I'm back in San Francisco, I'm starting to have second thoughts about this whole trip of mine. In particular, it now appears that camping and hiking was nothing but a way for consumerism to take over my life again, due to all the equipment that has to be bought, even after I'd thought I'd freed myself from that disease by giving up my apartment and getting rid of most of my possessions last year and otherwise trying to live simply. Nor did camping really help me escape society and its rules, since I had to return to villages to buy food and villages are conservative places where I stand out as much more of a freak than I do in big cities?"

In addition, Anonder lamented, "Reflecting over and over upon my situation -- 40 or more years before I die, with the better part of each day being bored stiff and yet unable to do anything about this boredom, since satisfying the desires that might alleviate the boredom would create other forms of pain in its stead, such that net pain would increase and net pleasure decrease." What I found particularly eerie is the fact that I have had similar recurring thoughts. The real problem, of course, is that the tube is the center of most people's lives outside of work. Without the tube, life is quite barren.

I am aligning my own opinion about the babe situation much closer to Anonder's than I thought possible. In the last few months, I have had little desire to even contemplate the babe situation. I surmise that being pushed down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs has something to do with it. And, I am also realizing that my time has come and gone. I don't know how else to put it. In fact, I am more of monk now than I have ever been. It doesn't matter anyway. The Vienna Sausage will stop functioning very soon. At that point, I'll be a real eunuch. A fitting end, isn't it?

Saturday October 9

I was somewhat saddened to hear that Rodney Dangerfield had passed on earlier this week. I actually remember when he made his debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. My favorite stand-up comedians have included him, Garry Shandling, David Brenner, and "Lonesome" George Gobel. My favorite comedy team, of course, is the Three Stooges. With each passing day, there is always a famous name from the days of my youth in the obituaries. It's a daily reminder that my own time is coming soon. One would think that I'd be skinnin' up babes right and left given how little time is left. Instead, I am moving at a snail's pace to finish up my business. I contemplated Anonder's comments even further last night. I wondered if he would decide to give up his path of mendicance and, perhaps, settle down with Sarah in a house in Palo Alto. He could purchase custom furniture to lounge around on. Alas, he could sit outside in his yard and pass the time away instead of sitting in a coffee shop.

The week has gone by quickly. That's what wage slavery does best. Yet, that's another week of my life. I can't really look back and say that it was rewarding. I would have the same feelings if I was homeless and destitute. I called my homey Rod this morning and left a message. Then, I sat down and enjoyed my morning coffee. This is the most enjoyable part of my day, sad to say. The benign journey to Chez Loser was a pain in the ass, as was the trip back. Riding the bus can tax one's sanity. I have completed all of the repairs, so the place is just about ready to be rented. Or, so I thought.

When I arrived back in Hawai'i Kai after a four-hour ordeal on the bus, I discovered that there was a stack of stuff in moms' living room. Needless to say, the Ninja Turds have begun the move back. This is exactly what I predicted. The Turds are moving back in so Turd Jr. can have his own room before age ten. I knew that moms would not tell me anything about this beforehand. I also suspect that moms has already pledged to give them the house. So, I will be left out of the inheritance, just as I predicted. This comes at a bad time because I cannot afford to live in Chez Loser. I will have to sell the place and attempt to buy something cheaper. The sad part is that real estate is now extremely expensive. A studio in town is almost as much as Chez Loser. Well, at least I was able to get good and hammered today while I was in Kane'ohe. I bought a big-ass bottle of Vendage Cabernet Sauvignon at Safeway.

It's a sad state of affairs because we all know the rest of my prediction concerning moms' house. Mrs. Turd may end up divorcing my bro, and kicking him and moms out. Or, my bro will use the money he's saved to build a second floor and move in the in-laws. Either way, moms loses control and will be a slave in her own place. That's the way it was when I first moved back to Hawai'i. Mrs. Turd has been putting on a good act. Well, it was good enough to fool moms. I saw through the bullshit a long time ago. Everything is coming to a climactic ending, coincidentally at the same moment that I hit the Big Five-O. None of this is happenstance. The sinister kahuna has been working overtime to try to bring me to my knees. Now, it has an agent in the form of "Samhain" and the Ninja Turds. The endgame is coming soon.

Sunday October 10

In less than two months, moms' house will look like something out of a sleazy trailer park. Crap will be stored everywhere. The former "warehouse" will be a warehouse again. Every room will be filled with Turd shit. If I stay, I'll end up living in the "warehouse." Otherwise, moms will end up in there. The Turds will take over. They will sit in the living room and watch the tube constantly. The utility bills will quadruple. Moms will end up cooking five-course meals again and doing three loads of laundry, three times per week. In the past five years, I've been able to see moms enjoy the place for once. That will all change. How long before my bro launches into his abusive tirades? One needs to only look back in the journal six years ago to see what I mean. This latest development has jogged my memory about my real purpose for staying on in moms' house. I was preventing the Ninja Turds from moving in prematurely. I could care less about the inheritance. I am only worried that I may suffer the tax ramifications if I am still named in the trust. I am not going to pay taxes on what I do not own.

Lori and I used to discuss all of this, even as recent as two months ago. However, when I was terminated at the Asylum, my unemployment issues came to the forefront. In the back of my mind, I knew that the Turds would be moving back in moms' house in November. My bro said that he would never move back, but he does not make the decisions. Mrs. Turd makes the decisions. She wants the house. That's been the center of the familial discord for the last six years. The Turds have treated moms bad before. They will do it again, once they are comfortable and once moms hands them the deed to the property. What's really sad is that the place will go back to looking like a dump again. I spent a lot of time cleaning and painting the place. I also brought the yard back to life. The grass was completely gone from neglect six years ago. There's not much I can do beyond this. I've proven that it was possible to save enough dough and purchase a place within five years' time, something the Turds could have done as well. Instead, it only empowered the Turds. Moms now feels sorry for them, so she will give then a free $500,000 home. After all, the Turds are entitled to it.

This leaves me in a quasi-precarious situation. I will have to decide on what I should do about Chez Loser. I cannot sell it now. The earliest that I could sell it is in January, primarily because I am depending on the tax deductions for this year. If I pay down my second mortgage and my other loan, my monthly payments for the first mortgage and the maintenance fee will come to $1,200 or so. Considering that one-bedroom apartments rent for $900 per month, I would not be getting the short end of the stick. I could find a dumpy, roach-infested studio for about $500 per month, I suppose, but that's a rip-off. Renting a room in someone's place will cost about the same with much less privacy. I could rent out my spare room, but that is not an option at this point in time. Selling my six-four is now a priority. That would save me $600 in expense, including insurance and car registration. I should terminate my cell phone service. That's another $300 per year. Even my gym membership is now questionable. That's another $450 per year. Well, hey! It's survival crunch time!

I was just about ready to leave for Chez Loser when I received a phone call from Shirley. She was surfing in Aina Haina and wanted to know if we could do something. She drove to Hawai'i Kai to pick me up. We ended up at Sumo Ramen in Kane'ohe. Ont the way, we discussed a number of things. I told her all about the Ninja Turds  possibly moving back into moms' house. She lamented that  her romance with stud was on the wane. It's been three months now for them. Shirley said that they don't do any dating. They just hang out at his place. He doesn't like to drive to Kailua and is seemingly uncomfortable about her parents. She also detailed his "moodiness." She was pretty upset by all of this. I've never heard her cuss so much. I knew exactly what the problem was, but Shirley is not willing to accept my answer. It's a matter of da wild thing. She told me that he was carrying on a "fuck buddy" relationship with one of his former babes until about six months before Shirley met him. Guys who are used to a steady diet of da wild thing are not usually understanding about waiting several months to get some action. "Well, he has to earn that right," she said. Lunch at the Sumo Ramen was delicious. We then walked around the small shopping mall. We stopped in Blockbuster for a few minutes because Shirley wanted to buy a DVD. She didn't find anything, so we drove over to Chez Loser.

Shirley and I had a few glasses of the Vendage wine that I bought yesterday. Actually, she had one glass and I drank the rest of the bottle. Shirley mentioned that she talked with the former friend just the other day. Apparently, the former friend is going to school full-time. She's taking up art. I was glad to hear that because that is what the former friend really wanted to do. When I was once her friend, I encouraged her to persue that avenue. That is neither here nor there. We are no longer friends. No one would know whom I am talking about because all references to her have been pruned from the journal. "That's nice," was my response. I then changed the subject. I told Shirley that I had bought the Asian-style cushions for the rattan settée because of her, which is true. Shirley likes things with an Asian influence. I also mentioned that I would give her a set of keys so she can stop by Chez Loser anytime. This is, of course, if I do not end up renting the place. I also told her that I was planning to sell my six-four. Naturally, she didn't like the idea. "What if you have a date?? she asked. "Are you going to ride the bus together?" I had already anticipated this question, so I gave my canned answer — since I've been pushed down Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, I do not need to worry about babes. I'm only worried about my survival. And, I have returned to the monk life-style. "Well, if you sell it, you better buy another car," she added. "You never know when you may have a date." I've never been on a date in my life. Sheesh! We chatted for about an hour. Then, she gave me a ride back to Hawai'i Kai. We mostly talked about her situation with stud. I had a nice time with Shirley. It's too bad we don't do stuff more often.

I took a short nap because I was extremely fatigued from the wine. Then, I walked down to the gym in Koko Marina and did a quick cardio workout. When I returned, moms mentioned that the Turds are going to have a garage sale next month. So, all of the crap piled up in the living room is for the sale. What a maroon! I got all worked up for nothing. Nonetheless, I need to make preparations for all contingencies. Anything can happen at any time.

To be continued ... Go to E.10

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