[110] Screed City

[110]

03/06/2022 Sunday. Cushioned Stool. Room 204. Room 2 Suites at the Airport. Albany, New York.

Last night, in as long as I can remember, like literally, like I don't remember the last time this happened, but I fell asleep just by closing my eyes and keeping them shut. Which, PegLeg tried to attribute to Portland and the rental being very peaceful and relaxing and having my mom in town. I mean, all of those things are true, but that is not why it happened. It happened because I finally managed to burn myself out. I mean, not in a bad way. I mean, the breakneck pace of the last week and then driving five hours to Portland and then hanging out with family and getting very little sleep, I mean, the usual amounts of worries and thoughts that prevent me from just falling asleep unaided couldn't compare to the amount of exhaustion that my body was experiencing. I mean, I also wasn't over-exhausted. The trip was very pleasant. My body just needed some rest is all.

But here we are in Albany again. I can hear the boobs warming up their boob-machines. I mean, three more days. I decided on three more days. We could probably do it in two, but I don't want to get to the end of the day on Tuesday and realize there is an hour or two of work and then find myself in a compromised position. Like me and Connie loading the Box Truck alone or something. I mean, the amount of work really is very little, but I am going to take the three days and be done with this whole thing until who the hell knows when? Possibly never.

Friday was funny. We finished hanging all the line sets. Jayboo showed up around 1030a. I was able to get Billy to run the cables on three of the line sets alone. I mean, I had him do them one at a time. Therefore reducing the possibility of fuck-ups to basically zero. I mean, he is not a dummy. He could have done it the same way that Jayboo was doing it. Three at a time. But, man, you mess a single one of those lines up and you have no idea how it happened and then the guy is out there in the middle of the stage, twelve 50, 60 foot wires all crisscrossed and confused. I mean, the solution at that point is to bring everything back and do it all over again. Which, I mean, talk about an exercise in frustration.

Allan was really pushing hard for us to get out of work early. I don't know where it came from. I mean, the work really is not that hard. It really isn't. Compared to other shit that goes on on construction sites like that. I mean, I almost wanted to push the work to the very end of the day just to annoy him back, but that would have hurt me more than it would have hurt him. So, I mean, we did a TGIF-style day. Show up late, take a long lunch, leave early. Just joking. We showed up on time, took a regular lunch, left when the work was done. I mean, we maybe shaved 45 minutes off of the day. And surprisingly, Jayboo was okay with it. I mean, I didn't expect him to put up a fight, but I also didn't expect him to just give in without at least some commentary. The only thing he said is "They will charge a full eight anyway, so why not?"

And it is true. BMI would charge a full eight. AOW would charge a full eight. The Union would charge a full eight. I mean, we should get paid a full eight, right? I mean, we did the job that we were supposed to do.

I mean, I was on the road by two-ish. Got to G's school around three-ish. We got some gas. Some Sour Patch Kids. Some other things. Jolly Ranchers. Then we hit the road. Drove for four hours. Got to Portland. Hung out for a while. At Brother Luke's. Went to the rental. Hung out a little more. Went to bed. Got up. Brother Luke and family came over. Brought bagels and cream cheeses. We ate them. Went for a hike by the ocean. Went to the Brewery for lunch. Did some other stuff. Then we watched Sister Lauren and her singing group practice for a while. Outside on their neighbors porch. Then we did some stuff. Went to a Punch Brother's concert. Walked back to the rental apartment. That was when I fell asleep without trying. Work up today. Hung out. Took Phyliss to the bus station. Hung out some more. Then G and I hit the skids. Drove four hours. I dropped them off in Chatham. Then I drove to Albany. And now I am checked in to the hotel getting ready for tomorrow, I guess. I mean, there isn't anything to do, really. I should fill out some expense reports for my per diem, but I doubt that will happen. I can do that on Friday. Or Thursday. No real rush.

I mean, tomorrow is going to be getting the mid-stage traveler up. Which, I don't even know. I don't. I don't know how I am going to explain it all. I mean, we hung that main curtain traveler last week, but so what? This is one of those scenarios where the boobs having any information at all is going to be a detriment. Because they will remember some of the things that happened, but they won't know what it means and they will wrack their boob-like minds trying to figure it out. There will be lots of "Didn't we do it this way last time?" and "What if we tie the moving thing to the scissor lift? I can just drive it on stage and it will pull it up." And I will say "You're not wrong." And then in my head I will say "You're just an idiot." And then, because I am who I am I will give that suggestion some actual thought before I dismiss it entirely. But that brief moment of indecisiveness will give them an in to pounce. And the next thing you know Sally will say "Joe-John, just make a decision." And I will scowl at her and she will get distracted before the scowl sets in because she has mis-placed her gloves or something.

I mean, I finally, like just finally got the dust out of my system from last week. I can breathe again. I mean, I should wear a mask on that site, but I am so very sick of wearing masks. I really am over it. Last night at the concert there was a mask mandate in place. And the show was seated. Tightly. It was like sitting on an airplane for three hours. I mean, the show was very entertaining. The lead singer of the band is a pervert. I wouldn't be surprised if he gets metoo'ed in the future. I mean, I think he replaced Garrison Keiler after he got the boot for his abhorrent behavior, I mean, it only makes sense that they would replace him with another dirty pervert. I mean, maybe that is why they shut production of A Prairie Home Companion down? It was just easier than going through round two. I mean, I am not even kidding. There was something about the dynamic on stage that gave you the impression that the wagons have been circled around this guy as the bridesmaids say. That his time is limited. That their future shows will be played mostly in the 20 states in America that will fight to the death to maintain the Patriarchy and misogyny that are so very prevalent in these kinds of places.

I mean, Phyliss pointed out that America was founded on these principles, so they are ingrained in our culture. The way that Confucius is ingrained in Chinese culture, or whatever it is that makes Norway the way it is even though it is Socialist now. And I think she is right. No matter what you think America should be or what it REALLY stands for, there needs to be a reckoning with this idea first before any real progress can be made. And that is a long, long time coming. I mean, thank god for the internet, much like Amazon, it will be both the downfall and savior of Society.

I mean, I don't want to talk shit about this singer guy, but I saw what I saw. And things alike in nature tend to look alike. I mean, they did play an almost sold-out 1,000 seat show in Portland, Maine, so they aren't doing too bad, and the next guy going up on stage there is Al Franken and then Ministry and The Melvins. I mean, of the three The Melvins are the least problematic, so what does that say about cancel culture? It says it is a load of horseshit it what it says. People can like whatever the hell they like just as long as people show up to the shows. I mean, I am okay with that. But I won't be surprised when I read about that singer in the Daily Mail getting accused of some dirty business. Because, as much as they want you to believe that the Left is just going around forcing people to quit their jobs and die penniless and without their day in court, ALL OF IT is coming from the Right and Twitter. Two places where "Reality" is in quotation marks. I mean, you can argue that Al Franken had to quit because of the Left. And that is true. But it is only true because had he not that would have exposed the hypocrisy that exists, which, I mean, it exists. And the pressure wasn't coming from the Left because of what he did, it was because the Right weaponizes everything. Successfully. I mean, we got out of Afghanistan and it is still a failure because of Benghazi. I mean, we will never win this war, fight, battle, whatever you want to call it, UNLESS, men just stop doing shitty things. And to that I say "Good luck."

And then you say "Women do shitty things too." And I say "Not these shitty things." And you say "Uh-huh." And I say "Huh-uh. Give me one example." And you say "There was that one woman that ate the food on the airplane with a comb." And I say "Yeah, people suck, but men suck in a very specific way that is predatory and they need to be held to account." And then you say "This pussy aint gonna grab itself."

I mean, whatever. I don't know why I went down this road. I don't really care. I mean, I care a lot, I just don't know what the solution is aside from time and getting better people in the world. Which itself is just a function of training. I mean, I don't fucking know. Stop me before I go too far!

Tomorrow will be what it is. Then Tuesday. Then on Wednesday the Box Truck comes and gets the stuff and I am done with this stink-town. Go back to Vermont. Make some maple syrup. Mail some Donkeys. Plan the next little while. I mean, I need a plan for the future, but there are so many ins and outs. Money problems. Housing problems. Career problems. I mean, I went out to start Junior Mint on Friday morning. It was like 10 F. Cold as balls. I started the car to let it heat it. Then I opened the trunk and started packing my shit inside. I looked over. A cloud of exhaust was coming from under the engine. I sighed. I knew what was up. I went to the front of the car. Laid down in the snow. Looked. The exhaust was really pouring out. I reached under the engine. I could feel the gap where the manifold met the exhaust pipe. I mean, I knew what did it. It was ice. Ice and a very annoying Winter. The last time I left the compound I hit an ice/water puddle too fast when leaving. Had it been just ice I would have been fine. Had it been just water I would have been fine. Because it was both I ruptured the fucking thing. I mean, I showed it to Brother Luke. He thinks it is possible to weld it back together without removing the entire exhaust system, but it will be very difficult. I mean, I am going to get a second opinion, by which I mean, Scott, but things are not looking so hot for old Junior Mint. Even if the thing can be welded without removing the entire system I don't know how or where it could happen. That damn car has like four inches of clearance on the bottom. I mean, I have basically a year to figure it out. Then it won't pass any inspection anywhere. I mean, new business idea. Here me out!

Build a car garage to rent by the hour or the day. No tools or whatever. Just a lift and a pit.

I mean, the insurance would probably be outrageous and people would make huge messes that they wouldn't clean up and somebody would most very much likely get hurt, but still. I mean, JD would probably hunt me down and kick my ass, but my guess is that most of his business is from people that wouldn't use the thing anyway. People like me. I mean, I would take Junior Mint to him to have a look, but something tells me he wouldn't want to just "Try" and fix it before doing the "Proper" fix. I mean, why would he? If it doesn't work, then what? Is he going to have me sign a disclaimer? I doubt it. That is not how shit works. And, I mean, working on cars is kind of a passion for quite a few people in this world, they just don't have the means or access to the proper equipment sometimes, I mean, right? I mean, I am sure I am missing something very critical here, but still, a man can dream, right? Right?

I mean, it is better than the car wash idea because I won't need to get water and drainage to the thing. Just electricity. I mean, if anyone is looking to invest some money just DM me back. I also sell Crypto.

Alright, I guess I should hit the sack. Maybe I can get another good one tonight. My high visibility vests got washed, so I will be looking sharp tomorrow. Oh! One last thing, speaking of high viz. On Friday I was trying to cross the street after work but I couldn't because I was wearing my safety shit. I mean, normally when you cross a road you can just wait for the cars to pass and then you cross the road, right? But if you are wearing that shit and standing next to a construction site it turns out that people think you are controlling traffic. I mean, every time a car came by I expected them to keep driving, but they did not keep driving. They slowed way down. Then almost came to a stop. I mean, this must have happened five times. I mean, the traffic light by the job site is very long. The main road, Washington is a major road and all the other roads that connect to it are just residential roads. I mean, the traffic light is basically pointless in the sense that it should just be a stop sign coming onto Washington and nothing while driving on Washington. I mean, my whole point was that I just couldn't cross the street because I was wearing that fucking safety gear and people mistook me for a person of authority. Which, I mean, if you ever find yourself in an emergency and there are guys standing around wearing high visibility clothing, maybe take a closer look at who they are. Because they may just be some boob trying to cross the street after a long week bossing other boobs around. I mean, question ALL authority.