Probably From Around March 17th Until Now

Events are unfolding faster than I can unpack them and put into words.

I just woke up and it's just past noon and I am feeling good after a half hour during which I eliminated whatever it was I ate last night I had done pretty well in that department. I remember going to buy a Big Texas Cinamon Bun from the machine here. I sort of remember eating it. I remember testing the "pate" style food that I had gotten for Harold. I had cleaned his plate and laid it by his water then opened the can of turkey flavored pate for him. And then in the throes of a mental glitch, remembering that in the past Harold had not favored any flavored food in "pate" form, it tested it by putting a small forkful in my mouth, found it to be seriously lacking in salt and a little bit bony in flavor, as if a fair amount of bones went into the grinder along with the rest of the turkey.
I had tested it on myself rather than by letting Harold have a sample, and finding it unacceptable, had spit the small forkful into the trash, and had set the can aside, deciding to feed him something else. So there was the turkey pate with the divot forked out...
Then the previous day began to play like a movie in my mind.
I had walked a good ways from where the street car only goes, these days, down Canal street. There was a white guy about my age and close enough in intelligence that I was able to make idle chat with him. I told him that I felt like I was only getting 75 cents worth, out of the $1.25 I pay for the street car, now that it only goes three quarters of the way to the Casino.

"I never thought of it that way."
The conversation started when, after texting something on my phone, probably to Jacob Scardino, I made the joke to the guy, "If this guy doesn't tighten up on his punctuation and his grammar, I'm gonna block him!"
"Well, how old is he?"

I really had been in the abstract when I made the comment; there really wasn't any text right in front of my that I'd been referring to. But I had seen plenty of the punctuation and grammar that I was hypothetically referring to, so I played along.
"26," I said.

"Oh, well there you go," said the white guy of about my age who had said "excuse me," when taking the other half of the seat we were in.
At that point, I thought of joking something like: "You're entitled to up to 50% of the seat," but let that joke go.
I was one Paradise Park 19 ounce beer in, on a trek to the music store to get new strings and a new harmonica before I squandered the money I have on stuff like Paradise Park IPA lagers.

I then played devil's advocate (if I'm using that right) and said: "I don't know; you can tell it's the end of a sentence just by looking at it; why burden your buddy by expecting him to waste a thumb stroke to add a period?"
"Yeah, and the commas and the capitalization..." said the guy, who is probably in middle management somewhere.
I had to walk a whole half mile to the music store that I thought closed at 7 because it closed at 7 as recently as 2 months ago...
I decided to fortify myself for the arduous trek by lighting up the first weed roach I encountered once on Canal Street and having gone only about 50 paces. I did this and was soon at the Unique Store where I applied the wisdom I have gained about "moderation" being a good thing and only got a one dollar shot of brandy to go with the weed I had just finished. It tasted beyond nasty, like rubbing alcohol warmed up mixed with candle wax or something. I pocked the little bottle that had only one nasty sip taken out of it and began to walk straight down Royal Street where I passed interesting things, heard a really good ragtime band and bought some kind of beer at Rouses Market, where back at the beer cooler the ragtime would swell in volume whenever someone opened the front door. As busy as they were there was almost a Leslie speaker type effect as the door was in constant motion.
THE DAMNED STORE WAS CLOSED! and had a sign indicating their hours of operation as (now) being 11 to 6. I had gotten there at 6:24 PM.
I figured that the 24 minutes of bullshitting with everyone all along Royal Street, stopping to shoot a 2:10 length video of the previously mentioned ragtime band at one point; had been worth getting to the store too late. I still had an all day bus pass, that is good for another 4 hours as I sit here.

There is more to the post; there is the Tanya's Party part.
Then there is the cancel culture attack at the Lilly Pad, spawned by being doxed by whomever left the comment on the Dorise Blackmon memorial story; causing a raging group of trans kids to accost me at my playing spot, ending by quoting the comment of "unknown" verbatim....
Then there is the next day when everything seemed to have tilted back to where I could play at the Lilly Pad, rather than some trans band that had shown up ostensibly to drown me out while their loyalists cheered them on from where they had stationed themselves, like pawns in the game of some cancel culture mob that organized online then prepared their Friday night attack.
There is more to this that I will unpack...
I will just leave a marker as a reminder to myself.
The Young Black Man With Breasts And Wearing Eyeliner Who Asked Me Which Way The Strip Clubs Were story (coming soon)
The Weekend had arrived for Tanya's party story (coming soon)
I had decided, upon getting the invitation to it, that I wasn't going to go to it unless I was in a period of fasting, or just coming out of one.
I didn't want to show up in any polluted state, despite the invitation's reference to bringing one's own booze and the the mentioning of an outdoor area, something perhaps designed to ease the mind of any tobacco addicted, or marijuana addled individuals.
And, sure enough, the day for the party arrived and I was beset by demons all around me. I pictured entering Tanya's house, after having taken my shoes off, and then had to find a clean pair of socks. I then pictured there probably being cups of green tea (in front of a Buddha -maybe some guy dressed as the Buddha, Jacob suggested.

The Tanya's Party That I Didn't Go To And Why Not story (coming later)

I have an all day bus pass. But it isn't an all time buss pass, for as long as there are buses type. That would have been more than 3 dollars. So I must go...
I will hopefully get to the present here in the blog before more indescribably things happen...off to the music store!!

The Toll For Neglect

This blog is one of a few things that I've slacked off on the past couple years.

Getting some kind of job and/or disciplining myself to busk 36 hours a week, has been another derelicted endeavor.

Learning the correct Funk & Wagnell's way of placing the word "derelicted" in a sentence has been put on the back burner, even.

But, yeah. "When you're standing still, you're going backwards," one of my mentors told me when I was around 14.

I'm totally responsible for not having made the migration to another blog hosting platform that isn't going to censor this blog...(victimize me with censorship, sure, but through my own damned fault).

Had I been more ambitious, this enterprise would be affiliated with that Linux based cloud service that's $100 a year and will allow your blog, this blog! to reside in a Linux based cloud, so that the data warehouse that will store it will in short order be situated on some massive satellite, so that, even if some World War III type situation breaks out, like some crazy people joke about the possibility of, and the Google Servers are nuked; as the strategy of any war planner worth a ruble or yen would call for; after the dust settles and the radiation clouds have mostly dissipated, survivers will still be able to read my blog, scrolling with their blistered fingers. 

Yet I have procrastinated, and it is still on this platform, where only the people who knew about it prior to the shadow banning would even know how to get here. 

Hope For Change 

One would hope that certain war mongering power hungry types at the top will one day die. And, when all the "bosses" who are essentially "calling the shots" now are dead, they will have to be replaced by people from millennial generation and gen z and that will hopefully be the end of The War Machine because those stoners can hardly tie their shoes, never mind master mind world wars...  

An Invitation

When Google is making sure that hardly anyone sees a certain blog, then I guess its author is at liberty to write whatever hare-brained thing that comes to mind; as he tries to make sense of the shadows on the wall...

Tanya invites me to join "the party."

I still haven't found the key to unlock the joy of writing just for the sake of it, with the journey being the reward, type of thing.

The obnoxious Big Tech bosses, already controlling what 90% of the people with smartphones are going to see and hear every minute of every day leading up to the November election, are really getting on my nerves with their shadow banning of this blog.

If I'm going to say positive things about Robert F. Kennedy Jr (*flag goes up somewhere in Mountain View, California*) then the algorithm is going to make sure that the post is seen by only a select handful of people -those already deemed to be lost causes -boomers and other incorrigible "Trumpers-" whose votes will just have to be annulled the "2020" way.

By them finding, for each, a corresponding "gullible person of color" who has been captured by the Google algorithm. One that they can scoop up in a van laden with pizza and a keg of beer, and whisk off to the polling site ("We can register you on the way there" [ using this app that Zuckerberg was generous enough to have underwritten the cost of, and made available to Meta users, upon whose phones records show that neither RFK Jr, nor anything positive about Trump has ever appeared]."

I'm starting to wonder if there isn't indeed wisdom in the perpetuity of the deep state and its "perpetual war" machine. Maybe, to hell with Trump, Kennedy and Ramaswami, and maybe Karrie should go jump in a Lake.

Maybe I should feel gratitude for the piled up bodies of dead Jews, and dead Palestinians, stacked to one side to leave room for some dead Chinese and dead Arabians to come. We might should thank the bodies for this high standard of living that we all enjoy in this, "the greatest country in the world." 

Maybe I had everything backwards. Maybe the MAGA candidates are ironically making America "less great" by throwing a monkey wrench into the business of war. Maybe I should blithely snicker at the sight and sounds of groups of people of color, holding their phones and screaming "I hate Trump" at the night sky. 

Maybe I should be investing my unemployment checks in Lockheed Martin and General Dynamics stock and thinking: "You go, people of color; do your thing, don't let Kamala and me down! Listen to what your phone say's!"

The Chinese did not give their citizens the same "M-rna" type vaccine that it was insisted that U.S. citizens, to include the children and, certainly, all the members of the military, be force fed. I sure hope that the next bio-weapon, er, virus, that is being developed doesn't decimate the U.S. military, while leaving the CCP-ers unscathed! That would fuel speculation that Biden and company have been useful idiots all this time; and that might be quite a leap to make...  

Can You Promise At Least 6 Ongoing Wars??

I was thinking today about how interesting this blog might be still, to this day, if I were to still live under the wharf. 

Need a lift?

Nee

Chances are that, if I lived there when the Covid thing came into play, I would have, one way or another found out about the nice hotel where the city was putting the homeless people. I remember seeing the tent cities dissapear from under bridges everywhere and hearing the news that the homeless were being housed in a pretty nice hotel. They were being fed and I would imagine given some kind of funds for use on "personal items" ie. bottles of booze, weed and crack rocks and maybe toilet paper. So, I suppose that, as soon as tourists started trickling back into town after the emergency had been lifted, I would have been back to busking, in a race to see if I could restablish an income at such a time that my hotel room and money for personal expenses had dried up. So,it's hard to speculate with any certainty about whether or not this blog would be more interesting if I still lived under the wharf. I imagine I would have returned to there, sometime in the fall of 2022, and them might have endured some hard times over the course of the next year and a half, which would bring me up to this time now, when it is "different." This is the word used by Jonah the kopra player who used to make $100+ a day quite regularly playing that interesting instrument. Now he is peddliing a pedicab instead because "the Quearter is different now," according to him. Things will hopefully become interesting enought to wrtie about here. Even though this blog is shadow banned by the algorithm. I suppose I could fool the algorithym by using sarcasm. I could say that we need to start as many foreign wars as possible, so that foreigners will kille each other off, using weapons that were made in the U.S.A. and they could reduce the world's population to a level more comfortable for the likes of Bill Gates and other science buffs who have calculated just how many people need to be pared off the three of humanity. It can't be Bill himself, because we need him alive in order to direct the operation. But, if we can sell weopons to both sides and ciphon money off the treasuries of both nations that way; and then give the job of rebuilding those wiped out nations to good old American ventures, then it is quite reasonable to expect the U.S. citizens to enjoy a quality of life that is at least 5 fold better than anywhere else on the planet that is still standing. This is how a magnificent, well oiled war machine should work. We all live lives like the ones portrayed in the "Happy Days," sitcom of the 1970's and the rest of the world will just have to war amongst themselves for the scraps that fall off our table. This is why offense is taken over people migrating here illegally, just so they can ride the gravy train. They are supposed to be in their hell hole countries aiming U.S.A. made rifles at their non-Christian contemporaries... This is why I'm going to definitely vote for an "establishment" candidate this fall, be her democrat , or republican, that doesn't matter... Sarcasm,-and algorithm'ss inability to discern it, and adjust the blog author's social credit score accordingly...