1166
Money.June 9th, 1973:
Never have I seen such a morning. The rain falling in torrents, thunder and lightning. But the storm is not above. We sit in the clouds.
Monsoon in the Himalayan foothills had much in common with the first day of December on the island of Oahu, although the lightning was missing. Did have thunder, though, most unusual here. In all the years I have been coming to the campus of UH-Manoa, I have never seen it so flooded. Not surprising, after three days of torrential downpours. The Lake District.
But money? Well, if I'd had as much in my pocket on June 9th, 1973 as I do now, I would have been a very happy man, would have kicked back and enjoyed the rain falling.
That stuff shouldn't make so much difference, but it does.
I had a very traditional Thanksgiving dinner, although in two parts. Someone left, I suspect for the old man who is camping almost every day at the Art Building on campus, a large plate-lunch box. He wasn't there, so of course I investigated. Mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, stuffing, yams, pumpkin pie. Everything but cranberry sauce and ... turkey!? There were two thickly-sliced slabs of ham which I gave to the furry ones as a bonus after their cat-type turkey and giblets. Wasn't sure if they'd eat it, but yes, was all gone the next morning. Next day I bought some roasted turkey and gravy. (The veggies were better.)
The weather is just ghastly. Three days of ghastly. Luckily, I fed the critters earlier than usual on Saturday, then had to dash for shelter when it started raining. On Sunday, there was just enough of a break in the downpour to feed them again before fleeing for shelter. Monday, I actually got to sit there for half an hour (plastic bag under my butt on the wet bench) and watch them squabble over the food. (Did I say I was not going to buy three cans a day?) Then I had to rush to shelter when a truly incredible downpour began. I haven't seen anything like that since 1973.
It's December.
(Deck the halls with boughs of holly .... and etc.)
1167
On Wed, 3 Dec 2003, Judy wrote:I just got word that Gino Lancette passed away early this morning at Queen's Medical Center. He was 50. His son, the West Point graduate of whom he was so proud, is here to make arrangements, but services will be delayed until January, when the Waikiki beachboys he was so close to will give him full honors.
To: sch@lava.net
Subject: Gino
I first met Gino not long after the Aloha Tower Marketplace opened. I was working at an insurance broker in what was then the Amfac Center, would go over at lunchtime to either Gordon Biersch or the Pier Bar.
It was at the, alas defunct, Pier Bar where Gino came along one day and introduced himself. It was, of course, also early days of the Internet here in these islands, and much of our conversation centered around this new thing called Usenet.
Gino was totally schizoid about Usenet. He could write the most vile, horrible stuff about you on Usenet in the morning, then stroll along to a bar and buy you a drink as if he was your best friend in the world. He just didn't think the insanity of Usenet had anything to do with "real life" and he enjoyed the verbal battles immensely, couldn't understand why a "friend" would take that stuff seriously.
I never managed to quite adjust myself to that way of thinking.
I saw him almost daily during the recent bus strike, waiting for the "City Van" to UH-Manoa when Gino would come along on his bicycle, camera gear attached, on his way to Waikiki for a day of snapping photos.
He looked in pretty bad shape, but I didn't realize it was as bad as it evidently was. I don't blame him, though, for ignoring the doc's advice to stop drinking.
If you went only by the evidence of Usenet archives, you'd think Gino and I were implacable enemies.
Not true, not true at all.
I shall miss him.
The parallel hadn't occurred to me before between Gino's approach to Usenet and the Sleeptalker's fondness for occasional bitching sessions in the game, often followed the same day by a very friendly personal encounter. I just can't divorce the on-line me from the so-called real life me, or at least not as easily.
Meanwhile in this so-called real life:
Do not swat the hand that feeds you, either.
Lady Grey, evidently impatient with how long it took me to dislodge Whiskas "Seafood Supper" from its can, gave me a swat. Good thing she kept her claws in, because otherwise it would have been a three-day suspension of largesse.
The drugstore had the cans on sale, three for a dollar, so okay, they got three cans. Andrew, who absolutely refuses to share, gobbled his down as quickly as he could and then tried to butt in on Mama's. She glared, then reached out a paw to the back of his neck and held his head down to the wall. I didn't blame her. Eventually he tried to grab some from Thimble's can, but she wasn't putting up with it either, so he had to hang around and wait for leftovers. Greedy little bugger, Andrew.
Those dreadful winds from the west finally got replaced by tradewinds on Tuesday and the downpours stopped. Three days of torrential, almost-constant, rain is quite tedious, especially when you aren't reclining on a bed watching it outside a window. Don't misunderstand what I said about money in pocket. Hardly rich here, but then during that long ago monsoon I was fretting over having enough pennies to buy a matchbox. Surely was good training.
1168
What he could not explain was why the infatuation had endured for what was now years. It had become an incurable addiction. She had intoxicated him the first instant, and she still did.Michael Kilian: Dance on a Sinking Ship
The Sleeptalker was outside the Black Hole on Thursday night. I was later than usual, even for a Thursday when I am deliberately late to avoid the Alcoholics gathering. So we clasped hands, he said "good to see you, man!" and I went on upstairs to find a space. "Nice pants!" he also said, giving me the Sleeptalker seal of approval for my winter wardrobe. Well, half of it, although he gave the approval to the upper portion when I complained the next day that it was too heavy and I planned to replace it. "Give it to me."
He arrived on campus Friday morning. He was charming and delightful, it was a wonderful day with him. We played the game for awhile, then I took him to lunch at Paradise Palms, after another time in the game shared a beer with him at Manoa Garden. I would, of course, have bought him his own beer but as usual he wasn't carrying his ID.
Back to the game. When I said I'd had enough, was wanting another beer, he told me to meet him at Sinclair Library (where he oddly prefers to play). After waiting a bit for the [sigh] rain to slow down at least, I met him there, we went to the mall. I told him in the supermarket he could have anything he wanted with foodstamps money. I had more than $12 roll-over on foodstamps this month (if you don't spend it, gets pushed over to the next month), so no problem. Silly boy stole some food instead of letting me buy it for him. "I saved you five dollars," he said.
When he is delightful, I just can't stop myself from lusting after him. It must get so boring for him, us old queens wanting to get into his pants. He said he'd be on campus the next day, but he wasn't. Too bad, I did want to apologize.
1169
"What date is it?" asked the Sleeptalker on Tuesday. "The ninth?"I had to count forward from Foodstamps Day and said, yes, the ninth.
"I have to go to court tomorrow."
"What for?"
"Assault and battery."
"Assault and battery?!"
His re-enactment of the incident suggested that, at least from his viewpoint, it hardly merited bringing charges. I wait to see what the outcome was.
My dark mood of the weekend was lifted on Sunday evening when I saw the Sleeptalker doing one of his animated, flirting conversations with a large black man at the Black Hole. He flirts with everyone, but when I mentioned it to him on Monday he was quite irate. I told him he didn't understand how I meant it, nothing sexual, just a smiling desire to be liked.
Well, okay, I guess that's not a very acceptable way to put it either.
I was operating under a handicap since he arrived on campus Monday morning in a very bad temper. He'd scored some 'drugs' (ice, I guessed, which he later confirmed) for someone who then didn't offer to share it with the Sleeptalker, but bought him breakfast and gave him the bus fare to UH. Seems fair to me. He didn't think so. Any attempt to calm him down just turned his anger toward me instead so I sat and let him rant until he finally went off to Sinclair to play the game. Later he got mad in there, too, so we had another session sitting outside Hamilton while he ranted. Full Moon in Gemini. Seems to affect Gemini folk differently than the Aries Full Moon hits rams.
I bought him lunch, shared a beer with him in the Garden, then bought him more food and beer at the mall, patted his butt when he was standing outside the Black Hole when I arrived later.
Tuesday morning he again arrived on campus. Both days he was wearing a black tank-top (a sleeveless tee-shirt) which he rarely wears. So rarely, his shoulders are very white and you can see the tan-mark where a tee-shirt's sleeves are. But then you can also see the two tiny moles on his left shoulder and the birthmark under his right armpit. And much of his chest. Sigh.
When I told him how much I'd enjoyed our recent day together and had felt guilty about lust intruding, he grinned and said, "yes, you spoiled it all." Like I said, he must get bored with old men trying to get into his pants, but on the other hand, he'd feel neglected if we didn't.
On Tuesday evening, before we left for the Black Hole, he tried to get me to fill the pipe for him, offering anything I wanted in exchange.
1170
I do recommend Jeffery Deaver's The Blue Nowhere to anyone interested in computers, hacking, MUDs, etc. etc. Most entertaining. With some a-little-close-to-home takes on MUDders, especially.I was reminded several times of the Sleeptalker. Gott sei dank he hasn't gone that far in failing to distinguish between MUD and so-called real life. Nor, with thanks to the same source (whether it exists or not), have I. Let us all count our blessings.
The Sleeptalker didn't appear on campus or at the Black Hole on Wednesday, nor did he appear on campus on Thursday. "I don't want to go to jail," he had said, but, I wondered, perhaps he did go there. He does need to understand the difference between this so-called "real" life and MUD, and maybe, if that's what happened, it would help him understand it?
But no, he did appear in the game on Friday morning. He was in the mood for one of those insult matches. I wasn't. So I quit, spent longer than usual in the secluded grove. When I finally returned to the game he wasn't there, although he eventually did appear again. No idea if he was on campus or not.
The Blue Nowhere is another phrase for "cyberspace". An alternate reality. Indeed, it is often so much more interesting than "real" life.
It was a Deaver double-feature because I also got his more recent, The Stone Monkey. Not as personally relevant and interesting as Nowhere, but a good yarn. Good enough to add him to my list of favorite living writers in the Reading Room.
I've swept that place out recently, got rid of most of the young local homosexual bloggers. I still check them out, but I can't recommend them. Either they are moaning because no one loves them or else they are being nauseatingly gushing about their latest "soul mate".
The internal jukebox is especially tiresome at this time of the year. It hears a few bars of a Christmas song and repeats it until it hears another one. I wish I knew where the "off" switch was for that wretched infestation, but I think "off" in this case probably means "death".
Oh well, deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la, and etc.
And x = 3.
1171
The Sleeptalker has the flu, poor man. Same as me, vomiting through the first day. Both the Black Hole and Hamilton Library sound like the respiratory disease ward of a hospital. Flu in Hawaii. I guess I was lucky to get through my turn early.I was, as usual, brushing my teeth in the men's room at the mall on Monday morning when I felt a tap on my shoulder. Tanioka! "Hey!" I said. He asked for a cigarette. Sorry, I didn't have any. He asked for a "snipe". Errrr, we're in the mall, the Mother Lode of Snipes, go look for ashtrays. I didn't say that, just said no. A little later I was walking to the supermarket to get the furry ones some foodstamps food. Tanioka came out of it, tapping a pack of Kools on his wrist. He had enough money to pay premium price for premium cigarettes and he was begging from me??? And totally ignored me as he walked past.
When I mentioned it to the Sleeptalker, he went into a rant. "He's a punk," he said, "he's always been like that about cigarettes. He's a total punk, you shouldn't hang out with him."
Well, since I hadn't seen Tanioka in weeks and only spent about two minutes with him, didn't quite qualify as "hanging out with".
I saw him again early on Tuesday morning in the mall. Once again he walked right past me, ignoring me. He definitely looked like he was in post-pipe-hangover that morning. Oh well.
I've seen the Sleeptalker every day, felt very badly on Tuesday when I had to decide between giving him bus fare or buying my sunset beer. "I love you," I said, "but I don't love you that much." Just teasing. If he'd even tried, he would have had his bus fare. But then the eve of succumbing to the flu is not a time when charm is at your disposal.
I asked him what had happened at Court. He first said, "none of your business." Then amended it to, "buy me a sandwich and I'll tell you." Well, on campus, nowhere to use foodstamps but, sure, later, would have been happy to buy him a sandwich. He did show up there later, but wanted ice cream. I would have used foodstamps to get that for him, too, but he got impatient and went off to steal it, came back and sat with me while he ate it. Strawberry.
Well, when he told me he was going to Court, I asked who his lawyer was. It's an American right to have a lawyer with you before you see the judge. No lawyer. What??? So when he got to Court with no lawyer, the thing was postponed until he met with a "public defender" (which he is, I hope, doing at this moment I am writing) and then he goes back to Court on the 30th. I gave him the bus fare to the lawyer's office.
If I had a lot more money than I got on Magic Third Wednesday, I would hire the best lawyer in town to get the Sleeptalker off this absurd charge.
The furry ones coped much better with that nasty, expensive, foodstamps human food this cycle than I did. I spoiled myself with too many hot meals, was quite bored with cold, foodstamps stuff.
But at least I only had to roll my own cigarettes for two days.
1172
She had been walking along Fourteenth Street when, out of the corner of her eye, on the far fringe of defensive awareness, she sensed one of the ubiquitous urban nomads.Ken Gross: A High Pressure System
1994. I was impressed. I certainly wouldn't have claimed to have coined the phrase, "urban nomad", but I hadn't seen it in print before.
From the same source: The men on the street who spoke of their hunger, begging for spare change to buy something to eat -- he didn't believe them either. Food was such an easy thing to find.
Indeed.
A look at the calendar for the next thirty-odd days is really quite depressing. This is the Final Day of Finals Week on campus. The next academic cycle begins on January 12th. Until then, the library will be closed on weekends (as well as on the next two Thursdays). Thank you, Jesus, thank you Gregory. And then ... Third Wednesday in January 2004 is as late as it can ever be.
Nowhere.
So, the "Blue Nowhere" is cyberspace, on-line life. One reader didn't believe me when I said it was more interesting than the "Grey Nowhere", waking off-line life. I told him his "life" must be more interesting than mine.
But I'm stuck when trying to find a color for the most interesting life of all, "The [indeterminate-color] Nowhere". I very rarely dream about color in a strong enough way to remember it when I wake, but I suspect my dreams are in color.
It's said that the older you get, the less sleep you require. I don't find that true in my case. Of course, it's partly the restrictions imposed by the Black Hole. I have to get there earlier than I might otherwise seek the comfort of sleep. And once there, I'd far rather escape into dreamland than deal with the reality of the place. But it's also because "the [indeterminate-color] nowhere" is by far the most interesting "life".
Last night I was in Nepal and Tibet, helping to set up an office for a "Minister of Art and Antiquities". Is there anything in "real life" which compares?
Not hardly.
As I immediately thought when first hearing about it, I suspect the Sleeptalker has not been entirely candid about the adventure which has landed him in Court. The Public Defender seems to think he has absolutely no possibility of getting off, will face either a fine (which he can't afford to pay), jail time, or community service. I advised him to go for community service. "You do the work, then at least you can come down in the evening and I'll buy you a beer," I said.
Well, at least until the middle of January 2004.
He told me he'd seen Angelo the night before, but had nothing good to say about him. Oh well, at least at this moment, all my favorite Bad Boys are out of jail.
We wish you a merry Christmas, we wish you a merry Christmas ....
the tales