Coco Loco spoke to me for 6 hours until 4AM and thus I was able to sleep till 3pm and then work from 6pm till 8am (two lumbar drains, one ventric drain, two that were unintentionally pulled out during the night and a doctor who seems to not care so very much, again: too stressful) and then drive 4 hours and spend that whole day and part of the next helping my older sister move out of her house. I was a bit loopy from lack of sleep that evening. Actually I'm probably funner to be around. But I'm more likely to accidentally offend or even scare. My one brother-in-law at one point asked me how I got to the one house (the one I've managed to never speak a word about in this blog despite the seemingly ranty nature of it...) and I answered I ran (after the truck), then started pumping my arms like my hands were blades and humming the terminator music and running around. It seemed funny at the time. He probably thought I was trying to be an ass to him. We don't get along. Bastard Bush supporter probably occasionally reads this blog as he likes to spy on people using his computer skills. On the other hand he's so dumb he probably can't read it much, nor has he yet figured out how to ruin me with what's in it. I can't actually picture him reading this blog. He's too dumb. Yet, the way he loves to spy, he almost surely does. He's scary in that he's an extreme rightwinger, dumber than a doorknob, yet very good at spying. And I mean microcameras, computer programs, etc. Perhaps that's why I never mention him here? No, it's really just that some things aren't worth ranting about.

My other brother-in-law and sister bought a house that was more then they could afford. And finally after struggling to make payments for a few years they finally gave up making payments 10 months ago and finally managed a short sell. So it was a sad day for them. At least they didn't actually go bankrupt like my other sister who owed 250,000 dollars including 40K she put on a credit card in my mom's name.

They're moving in with my one brother-in-law's family. The whole family was there helping and they're wonderful people. Both parents, the daughter and all three sons. All wonderful people. The one son is a philosopher like me. I'm reminded of myself. Which is both a good and bad thing. Hard to explain the bad. It's as if not enough consideration to being good at the mere survival parts is taking place. But one can't point a finger at what exactly is really being neglected. Just in the way he converses you feel like there's something he's not keeping an eye on that he's 'supposed' to be... I wonder how much the same I appear but really I'm not that much the same. In some ways he's a typical weed smoker who spent a long time in college without ever getting a degree and being unemployed. None of that remotely describes me. But still he seems a really good guy to me.

During the 31 hours we were there my stepfather at first was going to buy a 280,000 house for them (in his name as their credit is ruined but then they would make the payments), then decided not to, then based on talking to me decided to buy it, then when I wasn't paying attention changed his mind and decided not to and told the realtor so, then at the last moment, literally right as we were leaving, changed his mind again and decided to buy it.

The morning of the second day... I like mornings. They have more hope. Woke up early. Went with wife and dad to look at this house. Listened to his philosophy of what a good person is:
(1. Makes as much money as possible. 2. Saves as much money as possible. 3. Gives away as much money as possible.)
He's a sort of philosopher but his philosophy is pretty crude. But there are beautiful thoughts underlying it. And he has spent his life being both a miser and a philanthropist, somehow. And ultimately a wonderful person also.

Or I should say he's always truly meant well. Made my life and others utter hell at times. But I'm on a wonderful streak and that's not a bad thing. There is truth in it.

He had decided not to help get the house. We went and looked at it. I helped him understand why he had decided not to get it. (He has the idea in his head that my sister and brother-in-law need to be somewhat 'punished', yet doesn't entirely understand that he has this idea in his head.) I managed to convince him to help them buy the house.

Then we went to the Shepherd farmer's market. In Fairmont my stepfather bought 15 green peppers for 3 dollars. At this one they were a dollar a piece. In Fairmont it was all just raw produce. Here they had cashew butter, and guacomole dip, and unusual breads, hummus, etc. Snooty. I liked it.

Then breakfast. I had plain oatmeal. It tasted wonderful. Vunderful. Tasted better than my own. Maybe they don't use a microwave. Maybe the oats were steel cut. I ate my oats and read the New York Times. It's actually a worthwhile paper. The local papers where I live are utter crap. While I read and ate my oats we sat at the counter; my wife inbetween me and my stepfather. The restaurant was loud and I couldn't hear what they were talking about. By the time we left he had changed his mind again and wasn't going to buy the house. My wife claims she had nothing to do with it.

The whole 4 hour drive there and and then back was in the Camry with the really good sound system but my wife and stepfather would not let me listen to music. Once though when dropping off furniture, etc at someone's house, I was driving with my brother-in-law's father and he went inside to watch the football game for 15 minutes. And so I got to listen to 81 and 80 that I recently wrote while staring at the verdant scenery out in the country. I like them. 80 is seemingly repetitive but actually always has a little bit of stuff going on that isn't quite. And I like the analog simulation sounds. The philosopher weed relative thought the drums cheesy. They sort of really are but I don't mind them. The underlying piano in 81 is completely unrepetitive but you have to actually be listening very closely to realize this. It's a very good song from the selfish standpoint of the composer. I know it well enough (unlike anyone else who'll ever hear it) to understand the complexities of it which probably go unnoticed by others. Yet, even I can't tell you consciously what happens next.