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Avoiding the Volunteer thing at the moment, M* is back, had a great time on the island, but....
Where's all his stuff?
I knew this would happen.
All the unsorted dirty Tupperware and broken coffee mugs and pots and pans, where's it all gone?
He's spoken to the other staff, wants to have a meeting, wants to call the police, there should be an investigation, all the (now defunct) Christmas and Halloween decorations, where has it all gone?
I'm warned away by the staff, he's in a mood, best to take the week off, and they've explained that - while he was away, his department had the highest sales it's ever had.
That doesn't improve matters.
So this week, my time my own, and maybe I should be painting...
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A scanned news headline, that Bezos and Musk are both arguing we need a vastly bigger population, citing the ludicrous reasons that we would, out of this, get more geniuses, Einsteins, Mozarts, Michaelangelos, DaVincis, etc.
This is of course complete and utter self-serving bollocks, and the fact they dared to even utter it speaks as to why they should in no ways be in the position they're in.
"Our economy depends on it..."
No, it does not. Not in the least. Their WEALTH depends on it, on a perpetual stream of lowly paid workers, on an increased number of customers, wage slaves and consumers.
They depend on it. Much like malarial mosquitos would lobby for more humans.
The world, it's resources, are stretched even now to the absolute breaking point. Climate change may well have already tipped the scales and we're all just awaiting the fall.
Zuckerberg, even as I write this, is building a post-apocalyptic bunker to shelter in in Hawaii.
If Bezos or Musk were even slightly concerned about the lack of geniuses in the world they'd be building cathedrals, commissioning paintings and art galleries, executing their divine rite of patronage, donating to universities, schools, paying for Opera, Commissioning Music, Theatre, Film, etc, or investing in public spaces, and a thousand other such trifles that build the spirit of the age and encourage genii to flourish. But the spirit of this age is, already, "every man for himself", and as it stands their community contributions constitute the smallest fraction of their earnings. And by "earnings" I mean pillaging, for they've together earned nothing, merely arrived at the right time, right place, to exploit those who do the work.
Instead, it's "SpaceX" and "Blue Origin", vanity projects that will take them to the stars while our earth is destroyed.
These people, they are despicable, the worst parts of ourselves that we've allowed, encouraged even, to flourish and prosper. No reputable journalist should give voice to their nonsense.
It's time.
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And I'd read that in the 90's, according to Ivanka, Trump slept with a copy of "Mein Kampf" or Goebbels Speeches beside his bed.
For a moment I was a little surprised, a book, any book beside Trump's bed would somehow imply an intelligence I don't credit him with.
Of course, he's denied it - and I believe him. I think he's just stumbled upon inflammatory hate rhetoric as a populist strategy to get him back into power.
Rediscovered it, all on his own.
But a book beside his bed? Impossible...
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According to Toni this is how they're all run...
M******, last week, showing up to volunteer and he shoos me away. They're good. Lots of volunteers at the moment, they'll be fine, take the day off.
Now this, of course, is nonsense, the place is run on volunteers, only what is probably going on is M****** is going away for a couple of weeks, starting Saturday past, and he wants to hide away all his little treasures before I get in and bust up his nest.
So, running into the staff, they're telling me I'm missed, and, yes, but I showed up, was shooed away, and I'm not going to force my time, labor, services on anyone...
But this week, now, M****** is gone and I'm busting up his nest. I have 2 weeks, Substantial progress made after just one 7 hour day today.
There's 3 rows of boxes to the back wall. Figure 8 wide, 8 high, go through maybe 32 a day, not counting what's coming in...it can be done. It will be done.
Now M*******, he has some reasonable insecurities, he doesn't like my work ethic. Everyone else there, himself included, the paid employees, they're there as a social thing. I've seen him chat for an hour on end to one customer, about his art, theatre, and then, when finally he's done and "has to get back to work" not 2 minutes later he's off and talking to another. It's non-stop, decorating, rearranging, "Staging", no work done, workplace gossip, complain, hiding in back rooms "Looking things up on the computer", the collectables, an hour to research an item they'll end up selling for $5.00, all the while he's building his nest, adding to his heap of trash, garbage to be sorted.
I'm going to get through it. There's going to be Xmas stuff in those boxes, I don't want to hold on to it for another year.
He gets overwhelmed, you can see it, doesn't want to deal with it, although - it's easier to deal with if you just fucking do it and don't hide from it.
I figure, go through the boxes. Half is trash, easily.
Of the other half, maybe 10, 15% clothes. Not our department. Give to clothing. another 10-15% electronics, give to electronics, not our department.
And so on and so forth until you have it managed, in bins, put out on the floor or ready to be put out onto the floor.
Now is the time, while he's away, if not now it's never...
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And, reading at the moment Blaise Cendrars "Moravagine" I come across a reference to Conrad Moricand, the French Astrologer that stays with Henry Miller in Big Sur and is so aptly described in his story "A Devil in Paradise", a hilarious, albeit very unflattering portrait.
And so googling for more information I find nothing, only that he was a personage of some import, that he was known to Cendrars (who dedicated a book to him), to Miller, to pretty much everyone in Paris, but whose legacy seems to only be as a comical prop in literature.
Reminding me a bit of the Character of Gregory, someone I knew in London & Prague who achieved nothing, did nothing, yet somehow knew and was known to everyone.