[129] Screed City
[129]
04/25/2022 Monday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.
Correction: It was Joe S. that yelled "Page 69!" when I was doing the reading at PS/NY not Bill K. Sorry for the confusion.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't make the list. I mean, I didn't even try. I mean, I tried, I just couldn't get any clarity. So, I mean, you are going to help me do this. I mean, I asked two people for advice. Professor Curly and the Publisher. Both of them told me to just sit down with a calendar and figure out what is what and what is possible and what I need exactly in order to proceed with my future plans. The problem is, I just can't manage to get a starting point. I mean, here are the issues:
Work in Portland
Work at the Compound
Work at BMI
The Farmers Market
Finishing Donkey serial, second alternate ending
Finishing Donkey BOT [Book on tape]
Finishing Dishwasher
Figuring out how to see G
The trip to California
Writing in general
Writing in private
I mean, I went for a long walk today. Above Granville. The roads are closed until May 1st, so nobody was around. Which was very nice, for me. I was able to walk for about nine miles without seeing another soul. As the bridesmaids say. I mean, when I got pretty deep in the woods I started seeing moose tracks. Fresh ones. I followed them. Then I came upon a massive dump on the trail. The scat looked kind of old so I spent some time poking around until I found some fresher scat. I mean, what I found gave me hope that there was a moose nearby. And since it is late Spring at this point. Or mid-Spring maybe, I thought that maybe I could find some horns. I mean, I think they drop them in March, but I think I am wrong. I think that maybe it is closer to January, but I can't remember if I have that reversed with Elks. Or maybe elk drop their antlers at the same time as mooses, I mean, I don't know. All I know is that it seemed like all the snow had melted and nobody had been around, so maybe I would get lucky. I mean, I didn't get lucky. I did have a nice moment of feeling absolutely alone in the woods for a while. Which was nice. You don't get that so much around here. Or maybe you do, you just have to know when and where to go? I mean, when I was walking back down the road I saw some very large moose tracks. How I missed them before, I don't know. They were in the middle of the road. But I guess all I am saying is that I think I found a place that moose really like to hang out. And it is a nice walk to get there. I mean, there were a few nice camping sites as well. I mean, maybe later in the Spring I can go for a nice little stay. Maybe borrow a tent or something. Find some peace.
I mean, I walked for hours. Three and a half hours to be precise. All the time trying to think things through. I got nothing. I mean, really, nothing. It was kind of odd. Normally I at least get a new idea for a book or something. I mean, I did, actually. But that isn't enough anymore. I mean, if ideas for things were worth anything I would be very well off by now. I mean, it didn't help. It kind of made things worse because now I have a new idea I want to get started on AMEC. But I can't! I have to figure this shit out.
I mean, yesterday I woke up about 6a to go to the bathroom. I went back to bed. I had gone to bed the night before at like a little after midnight. Probably later. I don't know. I mean, I had let the dogs out at the Compound around 8p. So here I was, getting up to piss and those poor dogs, stuck inside for 10 hours. Guilt got me back out of bed. I got dressed. Hopped in Junior Mint. Drove over to the Compound. Let the dogs out. Fed Putney his meds from biting the porcupine. Which was pretty easy. He doesn't seem to care what goes in his gullet. He just likes things that are food related. I mean, I just put them in the bowl with his food, but he didn't even bother noticing. I fed the pigs and the goats. I drove back to Beaver Haus. Fed the baby goats. Then I went inside and went straight to bed. I mean, I think I was exhausted because I didn't wake up again until after noon. I got up. Went downstairs. Checked my phone. Thought about sending some messages. Didn't. Made a couple tacos. Took them upstairs. Ate them in bed. I watched some stuff on the computer. Drifting in and out of sleep for a few hours. Woke up again. Went back downstairs. Checked my phone. Thought about sending some messages. Didn't. Made some more tacos. Took those back upstairs. Ate them while watching some videos on the computer. Drifting in and out of sleep. At some point I woke up again. Put my pants on and my hoody and my slippers. Went outside and fed the baby goats. By this time I assumed that Scott and the Publisher were back from Portland. I was going to send some messages. I didn't. I went back upstairs. Brushed my teeth and got back into bed. I mean, I slept all the way until 7a this morning.
I got up. Called Professor Curly. Got some advice. Called the Publisher. Got some advice. Drank some coffee. Removed the stupid thing I put in front of the spigot in front of the house to keep it from freezing. It came off pretty easy. I need to slap a little paint on the spot where the foam stuck to the house. But that will take a few minutes. I can do it when the New Landlord finally brings the house paint over like he promised seven months ago and again one month ago. I mean, that is part of my conundrum too. I have all this work to do on Beaver Haus. Work that I am trading for bills. Which is an annoying amount of money. But, I mean it is work that will make the house better. Like insulation stuff. And painting. I mean, I noticed that the farmers left a huge swath of land un-manured. I mean, they sprayed manure all day yesterday and most of the day today. Everything smells like a cow turd outside. And sometimes inside too. But that swath of land is meant for trees. Trees that the New Landlord wanted to plant last year but spaced out on telling the farmers that they shouldn't plant corn there. I mean, I was here earlier this year when they were mapping shit out. So I gave him a heads-up. I mean, I guess he actually came over and talked to them. Which is good. It is kind of a lot of land. I think they plan on building a fence. Whether it is too keep me out or too keep all the nature in, I don't know. But I tucked my hair up into my hat and went in to ask him why. Or however it goes.
Speaking of hair. I cut my hair. Thinking that would help. It didn't. It would have had I don't it before I went down to the City, but now it just seems weird to have a nice hairdo and nowhere to show it off. I mean, I did go into Roach Town earlier. To get supplies. I mean, I won't lie. My grocery bill is pretty damn minimal now that I am making my own Ticklers. I mean, in a kind of ironic sense, or not ironic, just human nature sense, there is a freedom to having all the Ticklers in the world. I mean, it reminds me of my argument about Norway and the nature of drinking. I mean, in Norway you can't buy alcohol after 8p at stores every day of the week. On Saturday it is 6p. And on Sunday you can't buy it at all. And when you go to bars the shit is super expensive. Like break your wallet-style. I mean, my argument is that it just makes things worse. Because if you like to drink and don't want to have to worry about it you think about it so you don't have to worry about it. Like you will go to the store and buy beer just so you have it. Just in case. And guess what happens when you have beer even when you don't want it? You drink it. Which, I know, I know, this kind of runs against my argument, but hear me out. Say you don't ever have to think about it? Like it is just there. You can take it or leave it. You don't have to worry about your wallet or your desire. You just have the shit on hand. I mean, for me, and I am just speaking from personal experience because I have spent so many fucking years being so desperately poor that I would have to make decisions about my mental health versus my physical health. Like, I don't know, buy a Coors tall boy or buy a can of beans. I mean, it always depended on how hungry I was versus how miserable I was. But, I mean, even today. I had no choices to make about food. None. I bought the food I wanted to buy because I didn't even have to factor in the Ticklers I would be buying because I didn't even need to buy any. I mean, I don't know. We'll see. But I do think it is a good thing. And I think I can add it to the list of shit I need to figure out. I mean, it is very simple. I can just give myself an allowance of Ticklers. If I don't drink the allowance, good, if I drink the allowance, it is what it is, but part of it too is this dealing with cans in your daily life. I mean, even if you drink a modest amount, like maybe three or four 12 oz. canned Ticklers. The next day you have this reminder that you are a loser that drank three or four cans of whatever yesterday and you have to put them in the bag with all the other empty cans of whatever you have been drinking. And when you don't have a garbage dude to come pick that shit up it just adds up. And then, there you are, trying to get your shit together and you are outside in the Garbage Room dealing with the Winter's trash and suddenly you have to deal with the shame of whatever it is that is supposed to be Society's normal. I mean, I am serious, the biggest problem with the computer is not that we have too much information or too many points of view, it is that we have so many things to compare ourselves to. And it isn't healthy. I mean, I know I drink too much. I always have. I want to get it down to the bare minimum if not end it all together, but if I can't get a moment's peace about it because some asshole is telling me I am already dead and a loser and an alky because I drank a few cans of Ticklers last night when I was writing and that is why I feel like I suck and the world is shit, but really I am just trying to deal with living and not only that but everyone is actually a full-time hypocrite that needs to keep their fucking glass mouth shut, I mean, I assume this comes across as some sort of Shakespeare thing, but it has been a problem I have had for decades at this point. Not the drinking too much, which, yes, is a problem, but the thinking about it and how to deal with what it means. Like understanding that I am having personal issues that are not being dealt with and how to deal with them. And the answer is not just "Clean yourself up, man! You loser." Because sometimes when you just clean yourself up, man, you loser, you just become a cleaned up loser. I mean, what I mean, is that, yes, bad habits are not helping. But also, maybe those bad habits are telling you something. Maybe the way to help is to explore what those bad habits are. Not just denying that they exist?
I mean, I am impressed with my Ticklers. They are actually very tasty. I don't know what to do with that knowledge. I can't sell them. I rather enjoy the making of them. I kind of want to learn how to become a cooper so I can make my own barrels. Not so much to age the shit, but to maybe do some flavoring. But for now I just have buckets. And this is part of my problem too. I love living in Vermont for this reason. To have the space and desire and time to do this shit. To make hot sauces. To make Cubby Bubbys. Jerky. I mean, I could do this in the City, sure, but I know I wouldn't. I also know that I wouldn't write the way I do down there. I just wouldn't. My mind doesn't work that way. My fiction would suffer. Which is why I am having so many problems with my schedule right now. I can't be everywhere at once and I am not rich enough to just say, Fuck it. I mean, I am making beans right now. Which is not new. But I am making beans that I did a long soak on. From dried beans. Not canned beans. I need to figure out how to make colossal beans. Enough to be able to make 30 or 40 burritos a week. I need to be able to buy a huge sack of beans and replicate my recipe. And I won't lie, it is not going correctly. Dried beans are NOT the same as canned beans. What they do when they can those beans is a mystery to me. I think what they do is genius. Every one of them. I mean, I don't know if it is because they just sit on a shelf for like a year before you ever get them, or if it is the way they can them, or the salt content, or the heat of the water, or what, but I have never been able to recreate a canned bean. And the thing is, the canned beans aren't that much more expensive. But much like the Ticklers, I would prefer to cut out Big Can. Why make more waste when you don't need to? I mean, if I was smart, I would also start doing a five-gallon bean operation. I mean, why not? I still have a few weeks. I mean, I can get four burritos out of one can of beans. One can of beans is a pint. There are eight pints in a gallon? Right? 4x8=32. In theory I could get five weeks of beans going in a five gallon bucket. Not true. Factoring water, I could maybe get three weeks of beans. Even that, though. I mean, I just need to get that fucking Costco membership. Why won't they let me sign up? What the hell did I do wrong? I mean, I have never tried to buy a sack of dried beans from the computer. I guess it is time.
But still. I still need to be buying eight cans of beans every week. I mean, I already buy four. So now I am buying 12? And cheese. And garlic. And salt. And I think I need to switch from bacon grease, maybe? I don't know what to do about that. I mean, I have gallons of bacon grease at this point. And it is really tasty. But I can't just put bacon grease in my beans, right? That is false advertising. I mean, all these crusty Hippies around here. They would be okay with butter, but not bacon grease. I mean, a bean burrito is implied vegetarian. I mean, what they don't know won't hurt them, but still, that is just dishonest. Which is a conundrum. Do I give the best flavor and apologize when they ask me why it is so good, or do I use stupid butter that is more expensive, in a way, I mean, the bacon grease was hard one, but expensive because it comes from all the bacon I have eaten over the last two-plus years. I mean, even that! That is my point! How do I have so much bacon grease? Well, from eating bacon. How did I get it? You shouldn't be eating that much bacon. I mean, sure, it's true. But between G and Professor Curly and the Pandemic, I mean, we ate a lot of bacon. And that shit is just sitting there. Doing nothing. I mean, I guess I just do different kinds of burritos and see what sticks. People really don't care as long as you don't tell them what is in shit. How is butter better than bacon grease? I mean, sure, if I used lard that would be a thing, but I am not using lard. Lard is a false flag. It has all the crap in bacon grease with none of the flavor. I mean, if I was using lard I would feel pretty bad about it. Not because it is un-tasty, but because it is not useful. You don't actually need the fat to make the shit tasty. But a little bit of bacon grease goes a long way in making beans creamy and not annoying. I mean, I don't know what happens, but it breaks something down in a way that no fats doesn't. And butter is actually too creamy. It doesn't penetrate the bean. It just rides on top like that guy Knut Hamsun riding a train from DC to New York. I mean, back when he was cool. Before he became a Nazi. Back when he was sick and decided to get better by using Kosilig Culture. The cold air was supposed to fix his lung disease. And as far as I can tell, it did.
I mean, I don't know what else to say about shit. I really do just need to sit down with a calendar and look at things. Call Brother Luke. Call G's mom. Tell the Farmers Market what days work for me. I mean, I owe them a bunch of money, so I don't think they are going to push back too much. I mean, really it is just about May 14th. I need to say no to that date. I mean, moving forward, as the business people say, I just don't have my shit together. The most important writing thing is the second alternate ending for Donkey serial. Which will write itself. I mean, don't get me wrong, but I have a pretty good idea about it, and it is just a time issue. BUT! it needs to happen this week. Because next week is no bon. Impossible even. And as far as G is concerned, I mean, hopefully I can figure out how to use my Friday's in a way that allow me to drive to Manch Town. I mean, I am going to have to use every second of free time in the future to make burritos and Breakfast Bubbys. That I can freeze and unthaw. I mean, I need to buy some more Canned Heat. Some more Non-Machinable stamps. Tin foil. And soon! I mean, everything is very soon. I mean, 30 days hath April and June and September and November. Or something. Whatever. PegLeg's birthday is on Friday.
I mean, thanks for letting me talk this through. I am not sure if it helped, but it probably did. I mean, the part about booze did. I just get so frustrated about vague ideas about what Society thinks about things sometimes that I want to punch a moose. I mean, we all have our problems and the way we deal with them is not as simple as it seems. I mean, the worst part of all of it is the idea of what someone else is thinking. And that is fine and all, that is how it works, without Society we would all collapse into some unwashed animal that can barely live past 30 years old. But, I mean, Blondie is 76. She just had a birthday. And she is on tour! I mean, she was a heroin addict according to the Daily Mail. What does that tell you? I mean, if we are all just fucked up humans riding through life, I mean, maybe we should all be cool to each other? I mean, I say that and then I think about things, but still. As long as most of us are on the same page, as the bridesmaids say, we stand a chance. I mean, here, Black Flag said it best:
[Gimmie gimmie gimmie]