The Exodus Files
We Don't Live Here Anymore
Tuesday February 22, 2005
Back to the salt mines. I was not feeling too good today. Shirley called and left a message before my 11am class at the Diploma Mill. She wanted to know if I could get back to town from the Hawai'i Loa campus to do so. I called her just as I was about ready to leave. Unfortunately, I missed the first shuttle. Shirley was waiting at the shuttle stop when I arrived. We the left for the Ward Center. Her friend, Teri, works at the Spaghetti Factory. Shirley and I had an interesting discussion, actually a continuation of the dialog we've been having in Myspace e-mail. Teri was working there today. So, Shirley had a chance to talk with her. At one point, they were discussing the disposition of Teri's relationship. It seems that she wants to get married, but stud is not bringing the matter up. Shirley also told me more about Dean, the guy whom she has the hots for. He's apparently not as good-looking as Neal. I believe that both of the guys are in her Myspace friends list. Teri also mentioned that Neal has some kind of incredible crush on Shirley. Can you blame him? Shirley is a hottie. We had a really nice lunch. It was very filling. Shirley had a cocktail, and I had a very large glass of beer. So, we obviously had a "power lunch." We left at 2pm. Shirley was late to class. I told her that I knew her instructor, so I could resolve any problems with her tardiness. I'm not sure about this Dean guy, although I told Shirley that I am not going to comment to her about her life anymore. He's a graduate of University of Puget Sound. "He's very smart," she said. He's also part of Seth's gang. Now I understand why she's been hanging out with them so much. He's planning on becoming a "financial planner." Red flag! This is what I mean about locals. They buy into Quixtar scams and this "financial planner" bullshit. Locals are prey to any kind of "get rich quick" Ponzi scheme. The financial planner positions are normally offered through companies like American Express. It's a salary and commission job. However, unless the sales quota is met, the job can be very short-term, if you know what I mean. Basically, it's cold call sales. The "financial planner" sells ready-made packages at a premium. I have no idea why Shirley continues to go through the "inbreeding" path to find a BoyToy. I'm not going to mention any of this because I've already told her enough. She will have to learn the hard way.
I don't think that Shirley will admit it, but it is fairly clear that finding a BoyToy is one of the most important goals for her. In her e-mail, she laments that she always picks the wrong guys. Isn't this a clue? I also told her that the issue of da wild thing is going to come up again. Dean apparently makes her hormones rage, so she may give up the goods for him fairly quickly. All I could do was wish her the best. I went to the gym and did a quick workout. On my way to class, I saw Shirley standing outside with a "party utensil." She said that she had to bum it off someone. "I should slap that thing out of your mouth," I told her, half-joking. I am watching her revert back to a high school kid. She says that she just wants to have fun during the last few months of her college career. I just see her hookin' up with another of these local clowns. She will make the mistake of carrying her dream of finding "true love" too far. Then, she will marry the clown and end up living in one of their parents' places. It's happens every day here in Paradise.
Wednesday February 23
I neglected to mention that I saw Anne on the express bus yesterday. She is now working at another law firm as a temporary worker with the possibility of permanent hire. We chatted about a number of issues, mostly the dilemma of getting a late start in life. Neither of us expects to live the "normal" life. We both laughed at the idea that either of us would settle down in the married life. "It's too late," I told her. She agreed. The blonde hottie was also on the bus. She sat in the perpendicular seat, but she was a few seats down. The bus was very crowded. Baby was looking mighty fine.
I read an article this morning on the Net which provided more facts about the passing of Hunter S. Thompson. Apparently, he had planned out his end. His family believes that he did not want to "suffer the indignities of old age." This is the core of "geriatric anxiety." I knew exactly why Thompson took matters in his own hands. He was also suffering from a few health issues. I am not sure how I am going to cope with this problem. Each day, I try to imagine myself as a decrepit old loser. I am really thankful for my extended time of feigned youth. I still have the physique of someone in the late twenties. I am seeing more gray hair, but it has not become pronounced. I know that my body is starting to break down, though. I am not happy about this at all.
I was chatting with Kevin about the local mentality. During the discussion, I briefly summarized what's been going on with Shirley. "Well, if you had married Shirley, then none of this would be happening," he said. I started laughing. I try to imagine that he is just kidding, but Kevin is dead serious when he tells me these things. Kevin and his wife have been trying to persuade me to pursue Shirley now for about two years. The latter indicates that age awareness works both ways. Kevin's wife is ten years younger than him. As we get older, we find it acceptable to include much younger prospects as candidates for mating. However, we tend to forget that we were not too open to much older prospects when we were younger. I keep telling him that Shirley is not interested in old losers. Last time, he told me, "My wife and I think that you would be good for Shirley. You're older and more mature. You would treat her well. And, you obviously care about her." Well, I definitely care about Shirley and where's she's going. That's what friends are for. Shirley stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill at 4:45pm. She wanted to know if any of the computers had the latest version of Quark Express. I called around, but could not get an answer. We then walked to some of the computer labs. Nada. She had designed a project using the latest version, but she could not open the files on the campus computers. I chided her about being too preoccupied with thoughts of the new BoyToy and plans of going out partying. In the end, she had drive back home to convert the file. I am definitely worried about Shirley. I don't want to see her end up like other locals. Judging from the discussion Shirley had with her friend Teri, it is quite obvious that local babes only think about hookin' up and getting married. They want to live the fairy tale romance, but they have no idea how they are going to pay the bills.
Tomorrow is the 10th anniversary of LoserNet. It all started ten years ago in the Roach Motel in Convalescent City. It was a crazy time. That's also when the ol' lavahead decided to form his own monastic order, the Brothers of the Immaculate Roach. From there, the ol' lavahead made the journey to Oregon and finally back to Hawai'i. So, here we are today. The sad part is that there will be no celebration. The poor ol' lavahead may have to go out and get a few drinks by himself. Well, that's quite fitting. After all, this is LoserNet. Join us for the fun tomorrow!
Thursday February 24
Shirley called at noon. She was waiting at the shuttle stop when I returned. She wanted to eat at another place in the eateries across Bishop Street. This where one of the guys in Seth's gang hangs out for lunch. Sure enough, he was there. Shirley made arrangements for them to meet to throw darts tonight. That's what their gang has been doing. I suspected that the whole purpose was the chance meeting. Naturally, Shirley's future BoyToy, Dean, will be there. Shirley seemed preoccupied after that. I'm not even sure why we bother even meeting for lunch. She should have just gone there by herself. The other day, she told me that she went to a strip club with Seth's gang a while back. She said that she went wild and had a great time. I'm not sure why since there were nothing but babes stripping. Well, I know why. Dean was there. She also admitted that she had a thing for Dean even before she went out briefly with Neal. That's why Neal was bumped. She wants Dean really bad. She's still been hanging out with Seth a lot. I am certain that she is going to ask Seth to help set her up with Dean. The problem is that Seth had a thing for Shirley. That's why they had a talk on New Year's Eve. My guess is that Seth is still hoping for something to happen. I really doubt that he would be too happy to set Shirley up with his friend. Does this sound reminiscent of high school? Shirley also mentioned that she ended up at the Mercury bar last night with one of her classmates. The classmate is a foreign student. Shirley is thinking about going to Rome for a couple of weeks with her this Summer.
After the passing of Hunter S. Thompson, I have become quite cognizant of my limited time on this planet. I can no longer waste my time and energy with people who are working hard to revert back to high school days. I am keenly aware of the indignities of old age, some of which I am beginning to experience. I have my own life to live. I am sorry, but I must distance myself from Shirley. I really don't want to be around to hear any woeful tales after-the-fact. Nor, do I want to hear, "You were right all along." I've heard it too fucking many times. I'm a fucking old fart now. I just can't take that crap anymore. Anonder was right. One must sever all ties with people.
There was no celebration for the tenth anniversary of LoserNet. Instead, I stopped off at Foodland in Hawai'i Kai and bought an eight-pack of Guiness. Then, I walked back to moms' house. I sat and drank my Guiness while listening to moms complain about the neighbor digging up his yard. My life is degenerating quickly. Moms was looking at me funny whenever I took another can out of the fridge. However, it was good that moms did not make any kind of comment.
I had seen Anne on the express bus. We had an interesting chat, especially when we passed the new Kahala Nui convalescent home. Neither of us wants to end up in a place like that. It's an expensive tomb for the living dead. We also discussed her three years of sobriety after I told her that I needed a drink. Anne used to drink up to 18 cans of beer every night. I am beginning to discover that only people in my age group can understand the trials and tribulations of the senior citizen life-style. My celebration of the tenth anniversary of Loser Net will continue in the former "warehouse." I will drop back as many cans of Guiness as possible. I will also continue to reflect on the passing of Hunter S. Thompson. This is truly a wake-up call for the ol' lavahead.
Friday February 25
An uneventful day. I was not feeling too great after guzzling down seven tall cans of Guiness. I was able to make it though the day fine, though. I went to the gym and did my usual workout, too. Lori called and left a message. I called her back. We chatted for a few minutes. She's doing the Perimeter Run tomorrow. She also asked if I would be a van driver for her team. I'm not sure if I will or not. The race starts at 7pm and ends the following day at 3pm. I would be following the route to pick up and drop of each relay member. I am not keen on staying up all night. In addition, the Sad Lonely Losers Club is planning an interesting event on Sunday. I am thinking about making an appearance. Lori is supposed to call me tomorrow morning to meet for coffee.
The rest of the afternoon was mundane. Robert stopped by the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill. He is being tested for sleep apnea. He also said that he was almost hired as the Deputy Counsel for the City. The job would have paid $95,000 per year. He claims that some political maneuverings were responsible for his demise. Pseudo-professor Ralph also came by. He was going to a campus event. He wanted me to go along. We passed the time playing around with Myspace. Remember that he is "Steve McGarrett" on Myspace. You can see him through my profile. A couple of Asylum students have discovered my incognito profile. I have added them as "friends." They must have had a good laugh. I did not attend the campus event. Instead, I caught the last express bus to Hawai'i Kai. During the ride, I became quite agitated. I realized that I was rushing back because I have a dinner curfew. It's the same old shit from a year ago. This time, I set myself up for this stupidity. Now, without a car, I am even more confined. I popped open my last can of Guiness.
As I said, I set myself up for this one. I should have moved into Chez Loser, or spend more time there. The real problem with living in Kane'ohe is the limited bus schedule. The last bus back to Kane'ohe is at 10pm. After that, I am stuck. In town, the buses run until after 1pm. I could have more freedom by living at Chez Loser, but I will be hindered by a 10pm bus curfew. All of this nonsense is coming back because of the passing of Hunter S. Thompson. Why the fuck am I wasting my life away under moms' rules and curfews? I own a fucking vacant townhouse that is sitting in Kane'ohe. I am saving maybe $100 (after rent) per month by staying in Hawai'i Kai. In other words, I have lost control over my life just to save a few pennies. Now I see why I am at wit's end all the time. And, I see why I feel like a worthless piece of shit. I am not living an adult life.
In retrospect, I need to cut Shirley some slack. I've become a little concerned about her life, only because of my own stupid mistakes of the past. Shirley was always there for me, especially during my real moment of stupidity a little over a year ago. That's when I had a thing for the former friend. You won't be able to read about it because the journal was pruned. Of course, Shirley kept bringing up the former friend in conversation. That only added to the humor. Shirley needs to do what she needs to do. I need to get back to the business of living my life.
Saturday February 26
Another day of idiocy. Robert and I are are still (sort of) leading parallel lives. He's a hypochondriac, looking for a medical malady to explain his problems. His sleep apnea problem is really just a precursor of "geriatric anxiety." He's wasting his life away in the "cocoon." Although he keeps chanting, "Sublimation," it's barely even a placebo. He has gone to the gym twice again to sign up for a membership, but waffled on the decision each time. As far as I can see, he is still in chronic depression. Even the meds are not helping. Even if Robert were to get a high-paying job and moved out of the "cocoon," he would still be plagued with the same issues. The main issue is time. We've run out of time, especially concerning the babe situation. Both Robert and I do not want to hook up with babes in our age group for a number of reasons already delineated here. Therefore, we will remain bachelors to the end. We both must also deal with our aging moms. The latter is exacerbated even further by remaining in the "cocoon." Robert, however, lives rent-free. He does not have to do any chores either. Robert keeps joking around about prostitutes, but that's what it's coming down to.
My own life perspective has changed. My though processes now are different than my thought processes of ten years ago. The journal is testimony to the latter. I tried to become more serious about life in the last six years. I saved money and made sacrifices that affect my so-called "convenience." Yet, the writing is on the wall. The majority of bankruptcies in the nation are due to geriatric medical debt. In the end, the average person is only saving money to pay off hospitals. I am no longer convinced that it is prudent to save every penny. Unlike Robert, I do not spend money to satisfy my every whim. However, I have constricted my life beyond what is necessary.
I made the benign journey to Chez Loser at 9:45am. Lori called and left a message while I was on the bus. I called her right after I got off near Safeway. Naturally, I had to purchase a big-ass bottle of the "fake" Hammer." We chatted for quite a while. I told her that I most likely could not handle driving the team van for 20 hours through the night. After the fake "Hammer," I would be fortunate to stay awake longer than two hours. We also discussed "geriatric anxiety," something that Lori is also seemingly experiencing. She's younger than I am, which makes the latter puzzling. We are supposed to meet for lunch in a week or so. I did absolutely nothing at Chez Loser, which now makes me realize why I haven't fully moved in. What am I going to do there? Get hammered every day? I departed at 3pm. The bus was late, so I ended up waiting in town for the 4:30pm bus. Of course, that bus was late, too. I dozed off on the bus, so I ended up at the end of the route. The bus driver was nice enough to drop me off near my destination. I thought of going to Kahala Mall this evening, but I was too fatigued. Later, I wished that I had gone. Any more excitement, and I may be joining Hunter S. Thompson. Sheesh!
Sunday February 27
The situation for the ol' lavahead is reaching critical mass. Unlike Robert, I am not looking for a medical reason for my problems. He's already on a full set of meds for his "bipolar disorder." He seems to want to add more to his pharmacy. As for the oversized cranium, he continues to look for an answer. The answers that Anonder provided are still not sitting well with me. At times, I want to become a complete social recluse. At other times, I want to have an active social life. Things are not the same as in the college days. It's much harder to connect with people in the so-called "real world." All of my friends have married and settled down. There are a lot of old, single guys around. I do not befriend any of them because all of them are psychotic. In addition, they are true loners like The Master.
I made the benign journey to Chez Loser at 9:45am. The trip went well. I had nothing to do, I had to drink a few glasses of the fake "Hammer." This nonsense got old real quick. I left for town at 1pm. I stopped by the student computer lab at the Diploma Mill. I had been debating about whether to go the the Sad Lonely Losers Club activity scheduled for this afternoon. I thought about not going. Then, I changed my mind. I walked to the Aloha Tower Marketplace and met up with the first few people right at the base of the Aloha Tower. I was not met with open arms. It turns out that the group is made up of recently transplanted mainlanders. It was fairly obvious that I did not fit in. More people showed up. I actually ended up talking with a couple of people who were friendly at the outset. We then stood in line for about an hour to tour the Nao Victoria, a replica of a 16th century ship. I ended up chatting with a few other group members on the ship. Then, we were off to Don Ho's for Happy Hour. After a few beers, I ended up chatting with a few more people. It turned out to be a lot of fun. I had to leave at 6:15pm to catch the bus, what with my dinner curfew and all. There were about 12 people in attendance from the group. So, it was a good showing. There were more babes than guys. The ages vary. I can say that I met some interesting people today. It was a nice break from the usual crap.
Sunday February 28
I neglected to mention that I chatted with Caroll this weekend. She's planning to visit Hawai'i in October for a convention. She wants me to let her stay at Chez Loser. I am not really keen on the idea, although I am sure that I will give in. She seems to be more stable now that she's working at her new job. I hope that it lasts. I am worried about my own position. Kevin has been acting strangely. He said that he met with Kim, the Director of Education at the Asylum. I spoke with Kim last week, and she said nothing similar to what Kevin is claiming. My guess is that he is trying to push me to quit. He's also turning "State's evidence." He is pretty much telling Kim everything he knows and hears. He's definitely in some kind of survival mode. We also had an interesting chat about life. That was probably his most sincere moment. At one point, he asked, "Well, did you change your mind about Shirley?" I laughed. Kevin never gives up. He seems to believe that I have some kind of choice in the matter. I just keep telling him that Shirley is trying to hook up with a young, rich stud in her group of friends, which is true. Treachery, stupidity, inane bullshit — that's the Asylum. I was glad to leave. I did my usual workout at the gym and called it a day.
Incidentally, I should provide a few more details about the outing yesterday with the Sad Lonely Losers Club. Pretty much everyone is single. There are actually 114 members now signed up. Thirteen people showed up yesterday. I did not meet everyone. I chatted with Steve, a guy who's been chasing construction jobs around the world. He wants to find a babe. He's also trying to get the group to do more activities like hiking, diving, and snorkeling. I'm up for that. I also chatted with Alicia, who came here six months ago from the East Coast. She's in her twenties. I give her a lot of credit. She moved to Hawai'i on a gamble that she could find a job. She's now a graphic designer for a local firm downtown. Maybe I will run into her sometime. I also met Amen. She's of Indian descent, and she's a doctor. She also arrived about six months ago. She is in her late twenties and has her own practice. I didn't get a chance to chat much with Kahi, who was my first Myspace friend from the group. And, I chatted with Jonathan, who organized the event. He also paid for the rounds of beer. Finally, I met Raleigh. Both he and Jonathan work for the military. The remaining members of the group ended up at Gordon Biersch last night. Someone is organizing an outing to Ocean's tomorrow night. I am tempted to go along, but probably won't. I posted a query about the Art Walk this Friday. Hopefully, we'll get a group to go. Naturally, there will be Happy Hour.
I am not sure if anyone is concurrently following the Myspace "blog." It's getting crazier because that's my alter-personality. I now put propriety information in each, just to keep myself amused. So, the journal may not have all the facts of the day. Aside from that, I do not maintain my little "space." All the kids "pimp out" their little spaces. I have plenty of room on these Web sites. I don't need to pack any more shit on that profile. Sadly, people in my age group do not belong on Myspace. People pushing thirty are at the fringe. By the way, the "blog" is probably funnier than the journal. Right now, I do not archive the material.
Tuesday March 1
I received word from the Ayslum that Vivian, the human resources person, resigned today. I was shocked. When I had a chance, I gave her a call. We are supposed to meet for drinks tomorrow at Indigo Happy Hour. The Asylum is beginning meltdown, just as I had predicted. By the way, I called Vivian on a land line. I have terminated my cell phone service. There was no need for me to keep my cell phone. I received three calls in the last four months from just Lori and Caroll. I can communicate with them for free by e-mail.
The situation at the Asylum, of course, now puts me back in survival mode. I can see why Kevin has already activated his plan to set everyone up. He told me yesterday that he had reported the activities of certain faculty like Joanne. What has he reported to the Gestapo about me? Kevin did mention one tidbit of wisdom. He said that I should not get worked up over people who do not heed my advice. "They'll probably do okay," he said. I then said that I was very frustrated because I want to save people time, money, and grief. I am increasingly frustrated with my students. I take the time to explain why they need to do certain things, but it does no good. No professor during my undergraduate years did that for me or anyone else. Well, I do not have the time and energy to devote to people who could care less. Kevin added that we should be looking to spend time with people who can add value to our lives, and vice versa. He's absolutely correct. Incidentally, I am planning to contact Debbie, my realtor, very soon. I suppose that it's time for me to put Chez Loser up for sale. I am a little depressed about all of this. And, yes, Anonder will say that he told me so. The real estate market is still doing well, so I may be able to get out with a small profit. I'll be happy with that.
It seems that the sinister kahuna is forcing my hand to make the changes that needed to be made. After all, I am not a kid anymore. I cannot be playing kids' games. Kevin did make another profound revelation. He said that he spent a lot of time studying hard in school. He went to the best private universities. I spent my time in a great public university, but I was an incredible party maniac and screw-up. Yet, we have both ended up in the same place, doing the same thing. I probably make more dough than Kevin does right now. Yet, that's a minor difference. "Time is what I am preaching about," I clarified. Time is what makes the difference. Time is why Robert and I are up shit creek. The time to make a difference was when we were young. That's when we all fucked up. That's the lesson I keep trying to make people understand.
Wednesday March 2
An uneventful day. Kevin asked if I had heard from Shirley and how she has been. I told him that I have not heard from her in a while. I didn't really want to tell him that I suspected she's been out partying and drinking heavily. Not that it matters. Shirley's present situation reminds me of my own life not too long ago. I've written bits and pieces in the journal. I launched into party mode, usually after a break-up with a babe. It's seemingly normal to drown one's sorrows, or that's the standard excuse. I found that I subsequently spiraled into "social addiction." What started out as a day or two of going out on the town became a nightly experience. I became locked into the nightlife with various other people. We had a great time, or that's what we thought. We were everywhere, and soon we were recognized by everyone else. It's kind of a celebrity "high," in addition to the "high" from the drugs, alcohol, and whatever else came up. Money was flowing out faster than I was making it. At that time, I estimated about $40 per night on average just for drinks. I also noticed that I became a night person. During the days, I was groggy from the night before. I still went to school and work, but I was barely functioning. Then, I came alive at night. I also observed that I was becoming more delirious as the non-stop partying went on for months. I was unable to tell whether I was coming or going. The "social addiction" was also quite overpowering. I had to be around people all the time. We were fortunate to travel in large groups. And, I was part of so many groups that I never really had a down time. The addiction only continued to get worse. In fact, it was further exacerbated by the fact that all the "cool" people were out doing the same thing. Why, we might even find the babe of our dreams. That's pretty much all it was. A dream. "Social addiction" and partying is like any other addiction. As time goes on, it takes more and more to achieve the same "high." It is a true addiction because alcohol and other substances are involved. It took me a long time to lose the addiction, but it always comes back. I was fortunate to not have any social outlet after my break-up with Lori, although I did end up consuming a lot of cheap booze. I was not so fortunate during my mid-life crisis. I was able to come up with a group that wanted to party. You won't read much about that because the journal was pruned. There is one other way the addiction ends — crash and burn. I've been through that at least a couple of times.
I can't speak for Shirley, but from the things she has said to me, I believe that she's caught up in the same thing. For her, it started with the break-up with Jason, her last BoyToy. I suspect that the fiasco with Erin's ex-husband played a hand as well. It further escalated when she decided to resurrect the old high school group. I am certain that she's spending every dime she makes, given what she's told me about her financial situation. I can't do much about what's happening. In fact, I really won't have much contact with Shirley anymore since I mummified my cell phone service. I'm sure I'll see her sometime down the road, whenever that will be. I hope that she does well.
Since this is the crossroads for my friendship with Shirley, I will spend this time to answer a few questions that some readers have been wondering. Since Shirley is quite a hottie, one probably wonders why I was never attracted to her. The truth of the matter is . . . I was attracted to her. However, she was a student in my class, not that I would have done anything about it. Remember the odd situation with Joyce? I came to know Shirley because I noticed that she disappeared from class for a while. When she returned, I already knew why she was gone. She had just broken up with Mark, her first serious BoyToy. I gave her the usual lecture that I give the locals about not throwing their life away over a failed relationship. She ended up passing the class. I only saw her in the hall at the Asylum every now and then. She would always say hello. Then, one day, she sent an e-mail to thank me for the encouragement I had given her. To this day, Shirley has been one of only a handful of student to have thanked me for anything. I asked to join me for lunch, just so I could chat with her and thank her for thanking me. That's when we became friends. We've been friends ever since.
Make no mistake, Shirley is a beautiful babe. She's even hotter now. Don't worry, I did learn a lesson from the fiasco with the former friend, and I will never repeat that mistake again. I am not sure whom Shirley will end up with. Perhaps it will be Dean, the guy whom she currently has the hots for. I hope that it works out well for her. The kind of clowns out on the party circuit aren't usually worth a shit. I hope that she doesn't get involved with one of those kinds of losers. I did happen to notice Shirley on my way to the bus stop tonight. I caught the last express bus out of town. It was about 5:40pm. Shirley was outside with a "party utensil." Classes started at 5:15pm. I was a little disappointed to see that, but I am nobody important. I did not say anything and kept walking. That's essentially what I am doing about this whole situation. We are at the crossroads. Shirley is going one way. I'm going the other way. Take care, Shirley.
Thursday March 3
I did not meet up with Vivian yesterday. She made some kind of lame excuse later. I don't have time for bullshit. I just wanted to thank her for helping me out during the tough time with Roach. People at the Asylum are so afraid of everything. They cower in fear over bullshit. The Asylum is in meltdown. I am not sure what is going to happen next. I have already enacted emergency procedures to begin dealing with the worst-case scenario. However, everything is stable so far. "Samhain" is due to arrive on Monday. There will be a mandatory meeting that day, which signals the possibility of extremely bad news. I attended a Faculty Roundtable session at the Diploma Mill for the first time. I enjoyed the experience, even though it was quite boring. Then, I went to the gym.
It was a long day for me. I barely made it through my classes. I am completely stressed out over the situation at the Asylum. I had a few bouts of "geriatric anxiety" as well. I ended up at the Indigo Happy Hour this afternoon. I met Pseudo-professor Glenn and Nancy there. I had a great time. I was quite hammered when I left. For some reason, there were a lot of hotties there today. I am once again ramping up for "social addiction," even amidst the looming "crash and burn" scenario ahead. I am really a poor example, so I have no business trashing Shirley about what she's doing. My life is really short, and I am not growing old gracefully. With the increase in bullshit, I can no longer predict what I am going to do. I am, and always have been, a "loose cannon."
Friday March 4
Some of my students at the Asylum brought a nice plate lunch for me this morning. That was the start of a really nice day. I didn't do much. After my classes at the Asylum, I walked to the Diploma Mill. I did not want to sit at the computer, so I walked to the park just two blocks away. I tried to contemplate the direction of my life. Anonder had responded to a few questions I had posed on Speak! IV. I also pondered what he had to say. I went to the gym for a quick workout. Then, I spent about an hour in the faculty computer room. I managed to chat with Pseudo-professor Dorothy. I walked to the State Art Gallery at 5pm. I was to meet up with Pseudo-professor Glenn, Nancy, and Tom, one of their friends. I walked up to the second floor, and I was able to locate them. There was a lot of good food and music. After we ate, we toured the gallery. The place was packed. However, there was no cheap booze. We departed for the art gallery at Mark's Garage at 6:15pm. I was extremely disappointed to find only watered down wine coolers. We toured the gallery and departed for the Louis Pohl Gallery afterward. Once again, there was no cheap booze. I was losing my mind. The Sad Lonely Losers Club was supposed to have met at the Mercury bar at 6pm before embarking on the Art Walk. I was hoping to run into the members. On the way out, we ran into Pseudo-professor Ralph and his family. He said that wine was being served at the one gallery that we had overlooked. We immediately left for that gallery. Wine was flowing like water there. House Music was playing in the background. I was droppin' back glasses of wine like there was no tomorrow.
There were young hotties out everywhere. I also noticed something interesting tonight. A lot of babes are not touring the gallery just to see the art. The babes spent more time looking around and making eye contact than they did looking at the art. Incidentally, there were so many hotties out tonight. I was losing my mind. That's another reason why I needed some cheap booze. My nerves were shot. The Art Walk picked up quite a bit after 8pm. I've never been there that late before. Pseudo-professor Ralph and his family joined us at the only gallery serving wine. He defended his doctoral dissertation today. He actually had a couple of glasses of wine with me to celebrate. I was already hammered. We walked over to the gallery at Mark's Garage for a bit. The place was completely packed. There was some kind of fashion show going on. The night was quite fun. I ran into a few people that I knew as well.
As I mentioned in my Myspace "blog," I am a hypocrite. I get down on Shirley for partying, but I am no better. If it wasn't for the fact that I must get up every day at 6pm to go to the salt mines, I may actually be out partying all the time as well. Well, that's not actually true. I don't have any party buddies. However, after I get hammered, I have a good time no matter whom I am with. I chatted briefly with Pseudo-professor Ralph about my dilemma in life. "Most people look their chronological age," he said. "You happen to look fifteen years younger than your chronological age." All I can say is that I am looking forward to the next Art Walk.
Saturday March 5
Last night, there were so many people out on the town. When we passed Indigo, I noticed that the place was packed. The thrill of the nightlife is what keeps the singles lined up at each of these places. The thought of missing out on something is the sole incentive. It would be so easy to get caught up in that crap again. If the Sad Lonely Losers Club was much more organized, then many of us would be out practically every night. In the last two days, I have felt the effects of "social addiction" and excessive alcohol consumption. I am a zombie for most of the day. I can still function at a minimum level. However, I only return to life when I am back out on the circuit, drink in hand. The inability to be alone comes to the forefront. I am now wondering what I will do for the rest of the weekend.
Another aspect of "social addiction" is the tendency to forget about friends who are unexciting or are "homebodies." They become the last priority. Only when all other options have been exhausted can time be spent with the "losers." There is tremendous peer pressure to conform to the party life-style. Being a social outcast is the most loneliest existence. No one wants to hear stories about sitting home all night on the computer. The label "loser" is extensively used today to describe such people. For the most part, I am now one of those losers.
I have to look at the case of Judith, one of the faculty at the Asylum. She's close to my age. She lives in the "cocoon" for a reason. Her mom is practically an invalid. Judith lives rent-free, but all of her paychecks go to pay for the caregiver for her mom while Judith is working. Judith has no free time and no social life. "It's family obligation," she says. Yet, she is completely stressed out. Judith is also giving up the last of her good years to be a good daughter. I am not at that point yet. However, each day I am hoping that my bro's family moves back in to moms' house. Moms will probably live for another ten years, forbidding any kind of health issues. Most of my aunts are pushing ninety and doing fine. However, a situation like Judith's is bound to come up sooner or later.
I made the benign journey to Chez Loser at 9:45am. It was one of the most horrendous trips that I have had on the bus. Some fat bitch stepped on my foot and did not say anything. I should have kicked her fat ass out the door. I remained calm and monk-like. I stopped off at the Diploma Mill to check e-mail. Debbie, my realtor, responded. She also gave me the latest listings from the Chez Loser complex. She asked me to hold off on selling the unit for now, if I can keep up with the payments. I am not sure if that will be possible. When I finally arrived at Chez Loser, I did not feel like packing anything or throwing anything out. Instead, I had a few glasses of fake "Hammer." I departed fairly early because I knew I would be completely hammered if I stayed any longer. Does life get any better than this?
Sunday March 6
I am still digesting the comments presented by Anonder in Speak! IV. What is most interesting is that Anonder has become a main character in this most unusual story. Although he no longer maintains his journal, he has become an integral part of this journal. Anonder answered a few burning questions. I wanted to know what his daily schedule consisted of. He stays in bed for 10 hours each day, two of which are to perform the Sacred Bone Fire ritual, I assume. Then, he spends most of the day lounging on his sofa and engaged in daydreaming. He calls his life, "The Path of Living Death," which is a starkly accurate description. Oddly enough, this is how I feel about my own life. At times, it seems hard to take Anonder seriously. However, his message is well thought out and concise. His take on the babe situation?
The same situation that applies with money applies elsewhere in life. In particular, it applies to sex and everything having to do with social status. Masturbation gives most of the physical pleasure of sex, so why bother with finding a flesh-world partner? This question lurks beneath the surface of everyone's thinking, but with the spiritual person, the doubt is particularly strong. The doubt undermines all efforts to make progress in the material world and the schizoid never finds a partner. But only a materialist would see this as a failure. The reality is that the schizoid, with his intense powers of imagination and capacity for living in his mind, is in a far better position to obtain sexual pleasure than the materialist.
Anonder has suggested that chokin' da chicken is the way to go. Sad as it may be, he is most likely correct. Guys like Robert and I are up shit creek insofar as the babe situation is concerned. We've run out of time, and we have yet to capitulate to the idea of settling for half-crazed babes in our age group. With that said, we have no other choice but to choke da chicken. There will be no wild thing. Those days have come and gone. Anonder disputes the matter of biology as the force to reckon with:
More erroneous thinking from your intellectual prison. Biology is not the problem. The problem is your social conditioning. You have little biological drive for sex at this point in your life. You are not popping erections right and left, for example. And if you were, you could just masturbate. Masturbation is quite natural, you know. Dogs lick their penises all the time, for example. You have been conditioned to believe that it is important to be engaged in a sexual relationship and that you should feel these "regrets" if not. These regrets are a form of guilt, which in turn is a form of fear, and this fear is instilled in you by the social-conditioning process as a child. This conditioning can be overcome. Overcoming this conditioning is known as enlightenment.
Is this where I am at now? I know that I've run out of time. I remind myself of this every day. However, can I truly be satisfied as a recluse? I don't seem to be liking it too much now. Yet, I am already living the "life of the mind." The issue of the journal and the Myspace "blog" come to the forefront. Why am I maintaining these useless artifacts? Anonder abruptly discontinued his journal, possibly after asking himself the same question. In addition, the journal is constantly misconstrued. Readers often try to identify obsessive-compulsive patterns where there is none. I write whatever seems most interesting. For the most part, my life remains boring. If I only wrote about my existence, I would be down to one sentence per day.
My life issues remain the same. Living in the "cocoon." Dealing with moms' eccentric ways. Living under moms' idiotic rules. Contemplating the resulting idiocy if something were to happen to moms. Deciding what to do with Chez Loser. Determining which useless possessions to divest. Figuring out what to do with my spare time. Grappling with the babe situation and "geriatric anxiety." It's the same old shit. I am sure that it's easy to figure out what the ol' loser did today. In fact, I'm going to make a general summary (see below).
I chatted with The Master this afternoon. He's still in Convalescent City, in the same apartment, doing the same thing. He has no babe either. I also briefly chatted with Romero. He had an appointment, so we did chat long. I will probably upgrade my cell phone plan so I can call all of my fellow old geezers. That's what it's come down to. I have decided to follow Anonder's advice and gradually become a recluse. That's my only hope.
Same Old Shit, Different Day
This is a general summary and reference for my pathetic life. I will refer to this summary as "same old shit." To increase the brevity of the journal, I will no longer detail the fact that I am in the salt mines every day. I also go to the gym daily, and sometimes on the weekends. During the weekends, I make the benign journey to Chez Loser. Normally, I have nothing to do there. So, I must get hammered on cheap wine. I must transport myself using the public transit system. It's normally on time, but there are days when everything goes haywire. We will assume that the stated itinerary remains constant. I will then focus on everything else in the journal. However, my life is so fucking boring that I could summarize the latter in one sentence. Sheesh!
Monday March 7
Lori called to confirm our lunch outing. I met her at 12:30pm. We walked to the Aloha Tower Marketplace. We ate at Gordon Biersch. Lunch was delicious. Brenda's husband was bartending at the outside bar. That's where we ate lunch. It was actually a "power" lunch since some beer was involved. Brenda, by the way, is the loan officer who set up my mortgage. We caught up with each other's lives. I haven't seen Lori in months. I briefly discussed the sale of Chez Loser. Lori is somewhat agreeing with Debbie, my realtor, to keep the place as long as I can. Hopefully, Lori and I will get together again sometime soon. The rest of the day was uneventful. What can you expect? It's the same old shit. Robert has joined Myspace as "K Man." I ran into Pseudo-professor Ralph in the faculty computer room at the Diploma Mill this afternoon. I told him about Robert's foray into Myspace. The big Asylum meeting was moved to tomorrow. Thank goodness because I really wanted to meet with Lori today.
Tuesday March 8
This was a day of crises for my tudents at the Diploma Mill. One student, Amy, mentioned that she is being harassed by a crank caller. She has called the police, but there doesn't seem to be much that can be done until the stalker does something. Ricardo, another student, was in a state of disarray because his mother is in the hospital after an apparent heart attack the other day. Then, while I sat ouside on the veranda, another student, Jason, joined me. He was in bad shape. He said that his babe might be pregnant. He convinced to go to the clinic for a pregnancy test. They apparently had a big argument over the whole ordeal the night before. I tried my best to calm him down. We chatted until class began. Then, we chatted a little more after class. I managed to get him to relax until he hears the results of the pregnancy test. We then talked about a lot of local stuff. He's a local from Mau'i. He went to Las Vegas to go to school for a while. Now, he's finishing his degree at the Diploma Mill. He told me about how he was a screw-up in high school. These are stories that I know all too well since I've been there. Jason called me later to say that the tests were negative. He was relieved, and so was I. By the way, he has tentatively invited to go to Mau'i for Spring Break. I may take him up on it.
I was able to make the meeting at the Asylum. "Samhain" arrived late, so I did not get to hear much of the agenda. I had to leave before 2pm. I am beginning to think that "Samhain" is not a bad guy. It's true that he cares mostly about his money. However, he seemed quite human today. I am now suspecting that his underlings are the problem. "Samhain" seems committed to the Asylum. Committed to the Asylum? Baha! Ha! Ha! Haaaaaa! Yet, I know that something is really wrong with this picture. As you know, I have already been in contact with Debbie, my realtor. I am ready to act on any kind of bad news.
I sent e-mail to Shirley through Myspace. She misconstrued what I was trying to say. I am not ending my friendship with her. I just cannot be around if anything goes haywire with her new life-style. She seems to firmly believe that she has a grip on everything. However, some of what she said echoed my "eleventh-hour" methodology. That alone scared me. I remember when I used to spew the same rhetoric about my goals. I made myself sound confident in the same way that she does. However, look how long it's taken me to get this far? She admits to being lazy and doing things at the last minute. "I perform well under pressure," she said. This is the standard line for procrastinators. I have uttered that nonsense myself. However, I produce damned good work for how little effort I put in it. Yet, we have to honest with ourselves. This is "winging it" at its best. Shirley insinuated that I did not really know her well. Oh, I beg to differ. I know her all too well. She's out partying almost every night. I've already described "social addiction" from my vantage point. I am a local boy. These are the same issues that Jason and I were chatting about earlier. Well, she said that she's now not looking for a BoyToy. She doesn't want the drama. I'm not going to ask what happened. Something must have, because her new Myspace heading is "Just one of the guys." Shirley is a hottie. She just needs to get out of that "inbreeding" situation. I also asked to to remove me from her Myspace friends list. I said that I would do the same. That way, we won't be looking at each other's profile.
To be continued ... Go to E.20
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