I've been wondering what life would be like if my cash income was $500 to $1,000 every day, in today's society.
As the seventies ended, my standard billing rate was $65 an hour. I was kind of famous for that because I started that rate on my first big IBM Sys 38 contract with Interocean Steamship, and kept it there for years.
As my reputation grew, people knew they would get a state of the art system, and they knew how much it would cost them. I was very busy in the San Francisco Bay Area, as the eighties arrived.
One day, the owner of a local bus charter company contacted me. His new business model was to pick up Japanese families at SFO, drop the women and kids off at fancy hotels downtown, then take the men to the strip clubs.
After the men got good and drunk, with all the tities in their face they could handle, they were picked up and taken to the hotels.
The idea caught on big time and business began booming. The charter company already had a stock IBM Sys 38, running accounting, routing, and everything else. But they needed a custom module to plug in and handle this new line of business.
And they needed it right now. I told the owner it would take two weeks to create the mod, but I was booked solid.
He was well aware of my rate reputation and asked me what it would cost to put all of my current jobs on hold for two weeks, and do it.
I told him $250 an hour in cash, payable at the end of each day. He agreed, and every day as I was winding down, I told them how much time I was billing, and the cash was handed to me by the receptionist as I walked out the door. In an envelope...
I usually put in eight hours so that was two grand in my pocket every day.
On a side note, I didn't respect the whole thing. The idea that the men were the providers and since their women were notoriously lacking in the boob department, they deserved a night at the strip clubs.
I was married for ten years to a brilliant Japanese woman named Marci, graduated second in her class from UC Berkeley. She had small tits but they tasted good. So did the rest of her.
What is a partner? It's someone you share your life with.
When you're down, you bury your face in their lap and cry.
When you're up, and strong, you offer it back.
I can't remember my last good cry, much less in the lap of a partner I loved.
When your brain gets hurt you start grasping at every memory you have, and try to store it, somewhere you can get it back.
I'm finding this happening to me. Fortunately most of my past memories are intact, while recent ones apparently have nowhere to store themselves, and they're getting lost.
My sweet grand-daughter Shelby has rescued me from suicide by vodka and given me this moment. We are now partners in forming a life here in Pensacola, FL.
God, I've been sharing so much honesty and emotions with her, and I love her so much, but she is not my partner.
Well, I'm on the second day of running the duplex by myself. I turned the A/C off yesterday and actually slept pretty well in my bedroom with just a blanket over me.
I got a text from Shelby in Dallas this morning, asking how things were. I wrote back "This is the Pensacola PD, do you know the deceased?"
She laughed, but shortly after I got a text indicating the arrival of todays babysitter was eminent. Thank god.
Soon, a big ol boy came through the side door of the mancave, shook my hand and plopped down into the guest leather chair.
He's a good guy, plays the stock market from his phone, to the tune of $500 to $5,000 profit a day. Hell, I was glad I didn't spend that $20 weekend leftover cash in my pocket, yesterday.
Now he's off to his bank, may be back. I'm sure he's given Shelby an update on my condition by now. Hopefully it was good.
btw: I havn't processed any Blue Angel footage, but here's the mancave:
Shelby is flying around the country for a few days, working. Zinny is at Chelsea's and I have the place to myself. It's a good sized place, but I can handle it.
The first thing I did was turn the A/C down in the house, too cold for me, besides, I hang out in the hot mancave anyway.
Shelby ordered a bunch of great food for me last night, so maybe I'll start a new hobby called eating. It all showed up at the front door an hour after she left, in standard grocery bags, which means somebody shopped them and this guy delivered them.
Or maybe he did the shopping and delivery? I still don't know how things work down here. And no tip expected...
I'd like to take a cognitive test one day, like the one being pushed on Joe and Don. Trump said he's taken two, and aced both. Joe has no time for that, he's at the top of his game.
I keep telling people that my brain was damaged with that recent stroke, and the other medical issues that went down around it. Plus a few serious falls.
Nobody buys it but me, so I write about it here, and see if anything sticks.
I've been becoming an asshole for the day, once every three days. I apparently become a bad dude and usually can't remember it the next day.
If I'm drinking that day, I can blame it on that, otherwise it may be neurological.
Over the years, becoming an asshole every three days has never really been an issue with me, otherwise I would have run out of friends and lovers real quick.
So I really don't know what to do...
Shelby was yelling to Todd over cards last night that Popa has never had good whisky before, he just sucks on vodka.
The facts are, that I was an established Beer, Wine and Whisky connoisseur in the Bay Area, back in the seventies and eighties, before she was born. I knew how to drink, what to drink, and what was great.
The last six years in Tennessee included a lot of good whisky, and vodka as well.
So I raised my voice and assumed that pompous position we old people like to take, and shut her down.
Todd smiled, not many people tell Shelby off, because she's so good with the comeback, the effort ain't worth it.
What a strange Sunday it is, nine days before I turn 78. Surprisingly, my head is on pretty straight, and my body feels good.
Sitting in the Cave with the new cooling fan. I played poker here at the round table last night, with Shelby and Todd. Sipped a little expensive whisky, got stoned, and had a good time. Don't remember who ended up with the most chips.
Hey, that's life down here in The Cola. I came back into the house this morning, wet from a walk in a thunderstorm, and the lady who services the place jumped all over my bald head and my brown trim torso, with a towel.
The Nurse and Todd were on the couch and they were all heading to a little cafe where you can walk your dogs and grab a bite to eat. I was invited (thanks guys), but I just felt like hanging out here in the Cave today.
Ya see, before the collapse, I spent the last six years without a partner, in a rundown house on a deadend street, in southern Tennessee. I survived there until I didn't, but I got used to it.
The amount of Social Activity that occurs here, and is within my touch, is stunning. I guess I'm just not ready to mosey on down to a cool local place on a Sunday afternoon with nice people, and a couple dogs. Thanks anyway guys.
So I'm just hanging in the Cave, trying to figure life out, one more time.
I could be hanging out here watching Fleet Week,
With Shelby and The Nurse,
btw: This shot was taken the instant I texted Shelby on Saturday, and asked for it!
So I'm watching their dogs instead...
And I cleaned the kitchen...
Blue Angel Friday lived up to it's reputation yesterday. We parked the Benz inside the trailer park, right up at the street, across from The Bar, The Beach and The Pier. Shelby knows the owner and he owed her a favor.
We hung out at the Bar for a bit, before the show. After the big tab the last time, I was drinking from an insulated cup with supplies back at the car. I had a pot pen in my pocket with a bud in a baggie, and I was ready for the day.
The boats started stacking up and beautiful women in hot bikinis made their way up the steps to the bar from the two foot deep water. Everyone was gearing up for the best air show in the country.
Shelby said yesterday was the locals crowd, today will have a full harbor full of boats and a huge mass of people. That's why I'm staying home writing this post.
One big old black guy walked up to me, shook my hand and said he wanted to look like me when he got old. Considering his biceps way exceeded the diameter of my head, I was flattered.
I got a Vote for Dolly sticker on my Tilley hat from a local vendor and then Shelby and I headed over to The Pier to watch the show.
Along the way to the Pier we came across a big empty red tent out on the beach that somebody had set up to watch the show. I noticed a young woman with three young adorable little kids setting up in the sand next to it, so I asked the crowds around if the tent was theirs, they said no, so I invited the lady and the kids inside. I told them someone may come along and claim it, she said she could handle it, and it turned out nobody did.
Here's a Beach shot from the Pier and you can see the red tent middle left.
A bit closer...
I even walked down later and watched a bit of the show with them from inside the tent.
Meanwhile, the Beach Queen held down the pier.
I've got some video of the fly over, which centered right in front of us. I suspect it was a practice run for today, and I'll edit what I got yesterday, shortly.
Shelby was out on the town last night so I made myself a great dinner. The best ingredients I found that didn't take any prep or cooking, were these amazing carmel filled chocolate things.
Maybe it was the Pen that pushed me in this direction, or maybe the Straw, but this was the best meal I've had in a while!
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