[114] Screed City
[114]
03/10/2022 Thursday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.
Logs, logs, logs. All day logs. Chopping logs. Bucking logs. Cooking logs. And sap. Juicy, juicy sap. Steamy sap. Cold sap. Boiling sap. And dogs. All day dogs. Barking dogs. Humping dogs. And ducks. Humping ducks. And pigs. Loud, stinking pigs. The sound of a weird rooster crowing. A Spring breeze. Mud, mud everywhere. Melting snow. The sound of a chainsaw. The sound of a chop of an ax in a log. The promise of a sweet, sweet syrup.
We are off to a good start. I think. Although Scott had to fix some not so stellar handy work on my behalf. I mean, in my defense the time was limited when I was doing it and the weather truly sucked, I mean, what is done is done. We are a little behind and Scott is heading to Florida tomorrow. And there is supposed to be a great big snow storm on Saturday. Also, I am going to Chatham that day to see G's theater show. I mean, supposedly on Sunday it will be too cold for the juices to flow. I mean, I can go chop more logs tomorrow. Which is half the battle. I mean, this shit just takes time and lots and lots of burning wood. But we can do it. I believe in us! We have pure hearts and our motives are true. Anything is possible.
I slept until 730a this morning. Got up. Made some food. Ate it. Went back to sleep for another three hours. Putted around the house for a while. Trying to motivate. Made some phone calls. Looked at my bank account. Discovered that I had been paid for last weeks work. Which I found frustrating. Not because I got paid but because I did some math and figured out that when I work a full week the tax system fucks me on Friday. Like by Friday I enter some new tax bracket and they take more money out. Which means that I go from making $400 dollars a day to $300 dollars a day. I mean, American tax code is bullshit. It just is. The only people that can afford to take advantage of how it works are the wealthy. For everyone else dealing with your taxes is a tax itself. I mean, whatever. I don't want to talk about tax law. But I also decided to look into my paycheck and see how working as a foreman was different than working as a laborer. And it turns out that I haven't been getting the foreman rate. So I guess I have to send some electronic mails tomorrow. Which is whatever. Annoying, but whatever. I also need to do my expense reports. I mean, I have spent about $1,000 dollars of my own money on this job the last three weeks. Money that in the past would have left me destitute. I mean, luckily I could afford it this time around. But still, that is too much money for me to fork out.
I can't believe there is going to be another snow storm. And that I will be travelling in it. Again. This Winter needs to end. Also, I need to call JD tomorrow first thing. I guess. I mean, I don't know how urgent it is to get my exhaust fixed, but I feel like I should do it now, when I have the funds. Although, I mean, I owe Professor Curly a ton of money, so maybe I don't actually have the funds now. Maybe I should wait until the work in Portland is done? Which, I mean, I need to get myself some place to stay when I am there. PegLeg sent me some links to housing that is like $75 dollars a night. Which could be good. I suppose I should see if I can just rent something for the month of April. I mean, it is kind of a hard decision to make. At least with a hotel you know what you are getting. This other stuff could backfire horribly. I mean, it is hard to commit to. Maybe Brother Luke will answer his phone tomorrow and give me some guidance. I mean, it might be worth it just to get a hotel Monday night to Thursday night. Stay with him on Sunday night. But that would mean driving back at night on Friday. I mean, work is just so fucking exhausting. I don't know how anyone does it. I mean, I guess it is the money? I mean, in theory if I work all of April then I will have some good money. Even if I have to pay out $2,000 bucks in hotels or whatever. I mean, what I need is a mobile-home. I suppose if it was warm enough I could just buy a tent and stay at a campground. Or just post up at the Brewery. Or maybe I could convince Brother Luke to build some housing on the Brewery grounds. You know? Like a place for drunks to stay after a long day of drinking so they don't drive home? Little cabins. They already have a miniature house on the site. Why not make it like a lake-side resort or something? A "Drinking Package." You rent the tiny house. Get a bunch of drink tickets. And, you know? Buy the ticket, take the ride, as the bridesmaids say. I mean, the brewery in TenSleep does that. Not the drink tickets, but the campsites. It is just stupid enough to work.
I don't know. Things are getting weird again. Spring is in the air. I am thinking of going to Austria in June. So that is motivation to keep working. Maybe I can get a reading gig when I am there? I could make t-shirts to sell. There is still time. I don't know. I feel all over the place. I am still burned-out from the last three weeks, I should just call it enough and hit the sack. I mean, I keep getting these little bursts of energy and then I get bogged down again when I try to focus. And then I think, what the fuck am I doing? I need rest. Nothing is happening right now, how come I can't just shut my mouth for two seconds. Then I realize that I have some weird idea about life that I need to document that makes me remember that I have all this shit to do. Like, for instance, I need to collate Soft Elbows. And this guy Jess just sent me this crazy edit of Moveable Rooms that I want to look at that is basically the Garfield without Garfield thing from the computer which I love.
[insert Garfield without Garfield]
And Shane finished the Donkey BOT [Book on Tape] and Teresa is editing like wild on Dishwasher and Agustin is knees deep in Hilarious and G is working on the covers for that and Donkey Twelve needs to be sent out soon and I am still working on Postal Teen. I mean, my point is, I don't know what the fuck I did to myself. And for some reason I think the best thing I can do about any of it is to send out this fucking newsletter. I mean, I guess at least I don't have the union boobs to deal with anymore. I mean, I need to get some focus going pretty fucking quick or all of this is just going to blow up in my face.
That being said, I will see ya when I see ya. Don't make any plans on my behalf. I mean, as far as this newsletter is concerned.