[138] Screed City

[138]

05/13/2022 Friday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

What the hell? 14 hours of driving in two days. But spooky driving today. Friday the 13th. I mean, I hope I can finish this tonight because tomorrow is the first Farmers Market. There will be lots of stuff to talk about that is not this trip to San Francisco. We'll see. Wish me luck.

San Francisco, Part Five:

I mean, we got off the BART. The publisher and I. At the Berkeley stop. I lugged the rolling suitcase up the stairs. Plus my little travelling satchel. The Publisher had all of her stuff. We went to the booth. Things looked okay. I left the rolling suitcase and my satchel and went out to get us some coffee. The Publisher wanted a breakfast burrito. I said I would have a look-see. At the Starbucks there was some stuff, but nothing worth eating. I ordered two Grande coffees with whole milk. Paid. Waited a few. They came out. No drama. I took them back. The booth was mostly set up. I had hung the LED neon signs before I left to get coffee, so those were up. I left the coffee and went looking for food at the food booths. The thing that looked the best was the crepes. I went back to the booth. Reported my findings. Said there was one with ham and cheese. The Publisher thought that sounded good. I went back to the booth and ordered two of them. They cost $22 dollars plus tip. Ouch. I waited for them to be made. I looked around. It turns out there was tamales down the way. I immediately regretted the crepe, butwhatever. About 10 minutes later the things were done. The kid handed them to me. I took them back to the booth. Gave one to the Publisher. I ate mine. It turns out it was gluten free. So that made me nervous. The binding agents on gluten free stuff is usually pretty, how do you say, effective? I mean, at cleaning the pipes. I wasn't looking forward to an unpleasant visit to the Honey Pot. I mean, but what can you do? The thing was gross. I mean, like a ham sandwich melt on a buckwheat pancake. The ham was deli ham. The cheese was cheap. Butwhatever, at least it was cheap.

I think Abby had shown up by now. We were waiting for Agusitin with the power cords. Apparently the Publisher had talked to someone that said we could use the generator behind our booth. We just needed to tape the cord down to the sidewalk. Which was good. Better than running it out the front to the light pole. I remembered about the t-shirt for G so I ditched and went to the Target. I grabbed the shirt and wondered around looking for nail clippers. My nails had gotten gross and long. Full of goat turds from dealing with the garden. It took me forever to find some. But I eventually found some. Nail clippers. I paid at the self checkout and had to have an employee take the don't steal this tag off. I walked back to the booth. By that time David was there. There was an extension cord. The neighbor let us borrow his. It didn't reach the generator though. We had to wait for Agustin. Who showed up momentarily. That was good. I ran some cable. We tried to make sure it worked. It didn't work. Some guys from the festival came around and got involved. They thought they fixed what was wrong. They didn't. A little while later they came back and worked on the generator some more. Then it worked. I took the roll of really awful red tape the festival guys gave us to tape the cable down. It took quite a bit of it to make the stuff stick. But I did it. I did a great job. And then there was light! The things looked great. I walked as far away as possible to have a look-see. It was fantastic. Like a beacon of light. Or like walking down an unknown street in an unknown city looking for a bar. And there they were, the neon lights. A welcoming site to travel wary strangers. I mean, it really changed things.

I stood for a while talking to Agustin about Revenge of the Nerds Two, Nerds in Paradise. How when they were throwing a party and no one came and one of the nerds had an idea. They were staying at the Hotel Coral Essex. The nerds switched off some of the neon lights to say: Hot Oral Sex. And then suddenly people came from miles around. It was a success. Agustin told me that when his dad saw that movie for the first time his dad laughed out loud when Booger said "We've got bush!" When their creepy video cameras they installed during their panty raid caught the sorority girls undressing and you could see some pubic hair. I told Agustin that Booger says "We've got bush!" in the second movie too. When they find weed after they get stranded on that island because the jocks didn't want them to be at the conference for some reason. And Ogre got stranded with them for some reason and he got stoned and he said "What if C-A-T really spelled DOG." And all the nerds minds were blown. I mean, I watched both of the movies about a million times as a teenager. I mean, if is wasn't for all the very problematic shit, they would be great movies to watch. I mean, maybe not now, but if things hadn't changed. I mean, if was still all right to rape people and violently bully people and put up secret cameras in sorority houses and all the racism. I mean, aside from all of that.

I mean, the day went great. I stuck around the booth for most of it. We sold books like hot cakes. People were intrigued. Fun times were had by all. I never had to use the Honey Pot in a way that was unpleasant. Thankfully. I mean, around 3p I got hungry again. I went and bought a couple tacos. $4 dollars a pop. Steak tacos nonetheless. They were very good. I made the Publisher jealous. She wanted some. I told her it was cash only otherwise I would have bought more. She gave me some cash to get some with chicken. I went back. Bought two chicken ones. Brought them back. She ate them. I mean, I don't really remember anything else that happened at the booth after that. Around 4p me and Agustin and David needed to peel off to get to the reading place. The Royal Cuckoo [I am spelling that wrong I know] Lounge. We took the LED neon lights down. I pulled the tape up from the sidewalk and coiled the cords. We packed up the signs and said goodbye. We hit the skids.

I mean, correction: Agustin's car is not called Old Blue, it is called Little Blue. Sorry for the confusion.

We took the rolling suitcase to Little Blue. I called shotgun. We put the rolling suitcase in the trunk and hauled ass. I mean, it was neat driving to San Francisco in the daytime. To see the City. It had changed since I saw it last. Back in what? 1994? I mean, I was 16. We had driven over the Golden Gate to get in. I mean, being from a small town in Wyoming it truly blew my mind. And there were no phones back then. Just whatever map you had. I mean, we got lost about a million times. I remember going to the tip of the city and walking around in the open air park. Smoking a cigarette. I mean, even back then people got mad at me for that sort of thing. I mean, who knows. We didn't go to that place. We went to another place. On Mission street or whatever. I mean, we were stuck in traffic for a while. Some dude yelled "Can't hear me? Let me turn it up!" He was pointing flipped off fingers downward and then he flipped them over. Very rude. But also, what the hell? Who has that kind of time to heckle traffic? I mean, we found some parking very near. On accident, I guess. Some old guy in a very old truck and a Bernie 2016 sticker was leaving. He was also a union member. Judging by the other sticker he had on his bumper. I mean, he looked like he was going to work, but later that night we drove by his truck parked just down the street so, I don't know why he was leaving his parking spot, because it was a good one. I mean, it was probably only good for parking on a Sunday. And it was Sunday now. And there was probably some longer term parking elsewhere. I mean, I guess. I didn't read the signs, so what the hell do I know?

I mean, the Royal Cuckoo Lounge [sic] was dark as shit inside. We met Paul and shit, what was her name? Debbie! Paul and Debbie were very nice and were glad to see us. We hung out for a while. I mean, I had to use the bathroom in a very unpleasant way. Finally. But it was at least not the Honey Pot. And, I mean, Professor Curly is shooting a movie so she won't see this screed so I don't have to worry about grossing her out, but still, I mean, those fucking crepes. I mean, we spent some time worrying about the lights, the LED neons. About the microphone and what music to play as people read. Paul was going to DJ. I mean, Paul was great. He had a voice like Stefan and a demeanor like Troll. My good friend in Wyoming. I mean, after that we just kind of hung out. I ordered a Koltsch. Which, I will say, my new favorite beer. I can't believe I didn't know about it before. And I have drank quite a few beers in my life. I mean, it aint no Tickler, but still. As far as beers are concerned, top notch.

A while later the Publisher and Abby and Brad showed up. We did more talking. Books got set up to sell. People came and went. It was all very pleasant. I mean, we all kind of just hung around, chatting and drinking. Wondering where everyone was. If we had not really sold the show like we thought we had. I mean, eventually people started rolling in. All the readers got nervous. We decided the rotation. David would go first. Then Agustin. Then me. Then Abby because it was her book launch. I mean, it made good sense in the end. I mean, eventually we couldn't put it off anymore. David read fantastic. Agustin, who was very nervous because he wasn't used to reading out, read fantastic. I read like shit, if you ask me. I mean, lately I have been reading fresh screeds so I have a new cadence that I have been working on, and Movable Rooms is heavily edited by this jerk Jess who thought it was funny to fuck with my timing. I mean, I blame him. Not myself for not reading the shit before I went on stage. But it was very dark and I hit a few land mines while reading which made me stumble and I could barely see the text. I mean, you know how it goes. You mess up once, you can recover, you mess up a few times the thing becomes a shit-show. I mean, people laughed and stuff, but I didn't feel right about it. I mean, hubris is terminal to quote Client 9. Butwhatever. You win some, you read like a jackass some. As the bridesmaids say. I mean, after that Abby got on and killed it. And then that was it. The thing was over. We all stuck around drinking. Talking. Some people bought books. Some people just left. Some people did both. I mean, I don't know how long we hung around but eventually we packed everything up. Said our thank yous and goodbyes. I mean, everyone was drunk. By everyone I mean, me and the Publisher and Agustin and David. Jessica was not drunk. She was going to give me and the Publisher a ride to the airport.

I mean, we got all of our stuff and stood on the sidewalk for a while. David with the rolling suitcase. Me with my satchel. The Publisher with her big bag and computer bag. People were hungry. There was time before we needed to haul ass to the airport. We looked around. Across the street was a taco joint. We decided to go there. I mean, there were some boxes of books in Little Blue. In the trunk. That were going to go home to Agustin and Jessica's? I mean, maybe they were in a different car, because I didn't really understand what happened next. I mean, Jessica and the Publisher went to the taco place to get a table. Agustin left and came back with two boxes of books. I mean, maybe David went with him? I am a little foggy on the details. I was drunk, remember? Either way those books ended up in the taco place on top of the table. The Publisher kept saying "No! No! No!" But nobody knew what she meant. I mean, whatever. The books were there. They would end up in the back of Jessica's car irregardless. I mean, we ordered some tacos and quesadillas and some other stuff. A couple beers. The food was very tasty. The experience was a little bit of chaos. I mean, I used the bathroom. To take a slash. So did Agustin. I mean, I drank a bunch of his beer when he was gone. Then David used the bathroom and Agusitin drank a bunch of his beer when he was gone. And then when he came back he said "Hey! Where's my beer?" I mean, Agustin said the same thing when he came back. Butwhatever. Nobody really needed more beer. I mean. After that David said goodbye with hugs and hit the skids. I guess to go to the BART and head back to Oakland? Maybe he took a car? I am not sure. But he had the rolling suitcase with him. The rest of us. Me and the Publisher and Agustin and Jessica walked to some place down the street. Jessica told us to wait there, she would go get the car and come back around and meet us.

I mean, we stood there for a while. Jessica showed up. We put the books in the back of her car. The other luggage. I mean, we all got into the car and drove off into the night. I mean, we went to the interstate and then drove for a while. Then we got to the airport. I mean, we were taking United back. Not Frontier. So the terminal was busy as hell. We managed to get pretty close to our gate. Everyone got out of the car. We said goodbye and thanks and this was wonderful and let's do it again soon and next time we will stay longer and et cetera and et al. I mean, the next thing I knew it was just me and the Publisher walking into the airport. I mean, the Publisher had to piss. I mean, we stopped to print out tickets first. Then she went to the bathroom. We went through security, which was painless. And then we walked to our gate. I saw that the bar was still open so I decided that even though I didn't need another beer I was going to drink one. The flight was going to be very long and it was 1030p. I was really hoping to sleep. I mean, the Publisher went over to the gate. She said she needed some shut eye. I said I would wake her up. I went to the bar. Sat down. Ordered a beer. Put my card on top of the bar. The bartender lady didn't take it. I don't know if she just assumed I would have another or if she was daring me to, either way I kind of found that annoying. I mean, it just made me wonder if I wanted two beers. I did not want two beers. I wanted the one beer. That was it. I mean, not halfway through the beer this guy came around and said it was last call. I mean, the bartender's bluff got called and I kind of grinned. I would not be getting that second beer. She could not bully me that way. I mean, I could have ordered another, but I was not going to. I mean, I won't lie the beer I was drinking was gross and too much. I kind of wished I had never gone into that devil's den of inequity. Butwhatever. I mean, the beer was cheaper than the crepe at least. Just barely. No, not true. The beer was $9 dollars plus tip. I mean, it probably gave me the same amount of pleasure as the crepe. Which was none at all. I mean, whatever. Airport bars can suck one.

I paid and left. Making sure I had all my shit. I mean, that is the problem with airports and traveling. The more time you are around them, the more time you are likely to lose shit. I mean, I get hypnotized every time. I mean, you sit down and put your phone down or whatever, and then you panic because you can't find it, and it is either in your pocket or down on the floor for some reason. And everything is a distraction. And you are stressed because you are always late, yet have tons of time to kill. I mean, I know they do it on purpose, but for me, their plan really works. I mean, airports are basically casinos. They want you to wander around and lose all your money and miss your flights and get lost and keep you from using any of your brain cells. I really think that. Because even when I am dead sober I have the same experience. Especially if it is an international flight or something. Where missing your flight would be nothing short of tragic. I mean, I went and found the Publisher. Who was sawing logs by the gate. I mean, she wasn't. But she was asleep. I mean, I sat there looking at stuff. We had about 20 minutes before boarding. I put my satchel next to her stuff and went to use the bathroom. Which was kind of insane. I mean, there was line for the men’s room. Which, I mean, I guess a flight had just deboarded? I mean, let me rephrase that. There was a line to the sit down toilets. The urinals were very open. I mean, that meant that the 20 dudes that were standing there were just waiting to shit. I mean, how crazy is that? 20 dudes just waiting for a dude in front of them to shit so they can then go into that same stall and shit themselves. Not shit their pants, but have a shit. I mean, that is desperation. I mean, what the hell did they serve on that flight? I mean, I don't think I have ever stood in line to use the shitter when I knew that I would have to go in after some other dude had just beefed curry in there before me. I don't think I have it in me. And here were all of these dudes patiently waiting. I mean, more power too them. They are better at having a body than I am. I mean, not to be gross, but on the plane there was an opportunity to have some unpleasant time in a bathroom during the flight that was a completely different experience. I mean, those bathrooms are industrial. They suck the smells and sounds right out into the ether. Do you ever think about that? Where that stuff goes? I mean, not the turds, the turds stay on the plane, I think, but the air? I mean, is there like a stink cloud flying behind the plane at all times? With everyone’s farts and I don't know, bad breath and burps? I mean, if you go up 30,000 feet in the air does it stink? Like if you climbed Everest and took your oxygen mask off does it smell like airplane bathrooms? Like you kind of scrunch your face and look at the Sherpa and he just shrugs his shoulders and says "Yeah, man, it stinks." I wonder.

I mean, I went to the bathroom and went back to the gate. Waiting. The Publisher was still kind of sleeping. Then a while went by. Then they called the plane number. I got up and went to the bathroom again just in case. I mean, there is nothing worse than having to piss when you are waiting for a plane to take off. It just sucks. And I had had that idiotic beer. So I was not optimistic. Not only that, but I was hoping I would fall asleep and sleep all the way to Chicago. I was exhausted. It had been a whirlwind so far. I mean, the same group of jerks was still waiting to shit. I mean, they were different jerks now, but from the same ilk. I pissed easy and washed my hands and got the hell out of there. I went back to the Publisher. She got up and went to the bathroom. Then she came back. Then they started boarding. We had priority boarding because of the thing that the Publisher bought. The overhead luggage. Which it turns out was even more than that on this flight. We not only got to board early but we got the bulkhead. Which meant that there was feet of leg room. And since we were in an exit row, we also had to stow all of our junk. Which meant that even my satchel went up into the thing. Which was whatever. I never mind having my back underneath the seat in front of me. It makes me remember it. Go back to the casino/airport rant from before for reference. I mean, it was nice. We sat down. Things were calm. The plane loaded. It was midnight. The flight was going to be four hours to Chicago. I was tired. I felt like I would sleep. I didn't have to piss. The flight attendant's jump seat was in front of me, which meant that she would be coming and going, butwhatever. I am pretty good at moving my legs. I mean, I knew we would have to agree to being in an exit row, so I stayed awake. But after she asked us that I kind of drifted off. The plane started moving. Before I knew it it was lights out. I mean, until it wasn't.

About an hour into the flight this poor woman behind us started having seizures. Which, as terrible as that was, really irked the guy sitting next to her. And instead of this being an emergency, the flight attendants had to get this lousy dude with gnarly curly locks a new seat for his hemp hackey sack and Birkenstock's. I mean, it really was something to see. I mean, out of the corner of my eye and behind me. The guy was so annoyed. I mean, this poor woman beside him. Barely keeping it together. Her travelling companion, whom, I never learned the relationship of. I mean, he seemed like her "Friend" maybe? I mean, he was really nice to her, but they didn't seem like romantic. I mean, maybe he was her brother? It doesn't really matter. But the hippy dude got a new seat and things started changing. The woman with the seizures was given some water. This didn't help. Then she kind of just got left alone. Which also didn't help. Then there was some questions. That answered nothing. Then the woman with the seizures got relegated to the bathroom for some reason. Which, I mean, the "Partner" kind of stayed outside the door. Looking in from time to time. I mean, at some point the flight attendant did a thing from the movies and asked "Is there a doctor on board?" I mean, I don't mean to make light of this poor woman's suffering, but that was kind of funny. That statement alone kind of elevated everything to a fever pitch. I mean, in like a joke from the 90's the "Doctor" that showed up was a woman. Who, I mean, judging by her face she had been very asleep. And she was quite attractive. I mean, her hair was amazing. It was kind of a joke. How nice her hair was. And she had this very severe, very handsome face. Like she was in pain. Like she was used to being pulled out of sleep to deal with emergencies very often in her short life. I mean, she seemed like she was in her mid-30's. I mean, in my mind I assumed she was an ER doctor. I mean, she reminded me of G's grandpa. Who is also a doctor. Wide awake but also very exasperated. I mean, a sense of duty combined with this cool air that was like "Can't I get a second's fucking rest?"

I mean, she asked some questions. And some water was eventually given to the seizure woman. In the bathroom. And then another Hollywood thing happened. Some other woman showed up. Who must have been a nurse. Because she talked to the doctor like a nurse. But because she was a nurse she was constantly exasperated by what the doctor said. Like she knew better. But at the same time nobody knew anything. The poor seizure woman was just hanging out in the bathroom, drinking water I guess? The nurse and the doctor disagreeing with each other. The "Partner" kind of peeking in every now and again. I mean, it was all very intense, but not an emergency. I mean, I only know that because they didn't land the plane to get the poor seizure woman medical care. I mean, for three and a half hours she just hung out in the bathroom doing lord knows what. I mean, was she trying to shit? Was she naked in there? Was she standing up or sitting down? Did she actually drink the water? What did her "Partner" say when he opened the door every couple of minutes? I mean, at the same time the services were happening too. People using the other bathroom. Getting drinks and snacks. I mean, had it all not happened directly in front of me I wouldn't have known it was happening at all. I mean, at some point the poor seizure woman went back to her seat. A little while later I cranked my head around to take a look. She look absolutely terrified. Like she was facing death at that second. I mean, her face scared me. I could not imagine what she was going through. She also looked exhausted. I mean, butwhatever. That was that. There was no actual drama about it. I mean, maybe she had a bad beer like I had and the bubbles gave her farts or something? I mean, I don't really know what it was that made all these things happen. Because it obviously was not an emergency, but it was enough of an incident that for nearly four hours there was a panic. I mean, that damn hippy though. He was probably shining his Birkenstock's as we speak. Rubbing patchouli on his hackey sack to get it ready for when we landed in Chicago. I mean, I think the Sack-Con was this same weekend. There was supposed to be a big deal at the Bean from what I understood.

I mean, whatever. The plan landed and everything was okay. The doctor made sure to come back and double check before she got off the plane. I mean, her hair! It was something else. She really as a handsome lady. I mean, I feel like I will see her again in the future. On the television or something. And I will say "Hey! I know her! We were on a flight together once! She has very nice hair!"

I mean, whatever. We got off of the plane. There were no paramedics or nothing waiting. I mean, we walked over to our next gate. Which was whatever. A flight was leaving for Rochester, New York shortly. Which was funny to me. That fucking racist shithole. It was funny to see the people waiting for the plane. I mean, they were mostly regular, but there were a few actual jerks. I don't know if they were racist or not, but I could only assume they were. I mean, who boards an early morning flight from Chicago to Rochester, New York? I really don't know who. Probably coming from Florida. I mean, I doubt they are locals. The whole idea about Chicago on the Racist Right is that Chicago is anarchy brought on by Black Liberal Gun Toting Rappers who can only survive because of Government money. And you think I am being hyperbolic, I am not. Chicago is the scariest place in the world for these assholes. Black people taking care of themselves. I mean, do you know what I mean? That it is odd for anyone to take a plane from Chicago to Rochester, New York at 8a on a Monday? I mean, I guess it is a big town. Kind of. Things are business and stuff. Butwhatever. I don't trust it for one second. It must have been a transfer is all I am saying. And a transfer from where is the real question.

Anyway. We had to wait for that plane to board. Then we had to wait for our plane to board. Which was a couple hours. I couldn't sleep. Neither could the Publisher. I mean, when we finally got onto the plane the Publisher let me take the window seat. I don't know why. But I took it. I mean, I fell asleep pretty hard. But then the plane took forever to take off. Which made me nervous. Like we would be stuck on the tarmac for hours. Which happens some times. I mean, I could see out the window that there were lines of planes in all directions taking forever to leave. I mean, I drifted in an our of sleep. I mean, eventually the plan took off and I did finally get to sleep. But it was weird. I was so tired that I woke up and looked out the window and my brain could not comprehend that we were flying. I had thoughts about what life meant and what I was doing here on earth. I mean, it triggered an anxiety that I couldn't shake off. Being up in the air like that. Vulnerable. Alone in life. Wondering what was going to happen to everyone else in my life. I mean, I didn't mind my own fate, but what about everyone else? Life is truly insane. You are here for a second and then, just like that, you are gone forever. And the only memories you have are weird like this. Looking out of a window. Scared and alone. I mean, flying by a Sherpa on the top of Mount Everest, waving his hand in front of his nose because the air stinks? Do you catch my drift?

I mean, whatever. We eventually crossed over into Vermont. And like all times when you get to Vermont you suddenly feel better. I am serious. Just the landscape alone changes things. The lack of Capitalism. I mean, the clean air. The nice people. I mean, you can even feel it that high in the air. And it was nice. To see mountains and to know our travels were almost done. I mean, we landed. The plane taxied. Stopped. The fasten seatbelts ding went off. I mean, before I knew it we were off the plane. We, meaning me and the Publisher walked though the airport. We took a wrong turn. Then we had to come back. We went outside. The Publisher went back inside to have a whiz. Scott was there waiting for us. It was after noon. The Publisher came back and took shotgun. I got in the back seat. We talked the whole ride back. I mean, I waited a little while before I started writing this screed, but when I finished it was maybe 7p. I went straight to bed. And slept until 7a the next morning. Which is whatever.

I mean, it is now 11p on Friday. I have to get up at 5a to do the first Farmers Market of the season. I mean, we will see. It will be a shit show. I mean, I don't say that like I am willing myself to have a bad day tomorrow. It is just how it is going to be. There is about one million things that I have forgotten and who the hell knows if anyone will show up tomorrow. I mean, it is always the same. But such is life. I got the beans thawing and the Cubby Bubbys thawing too. I mean, all of this means, and only means, that Summer is upon us. Which means that shit is about to get weird. So, excuse me for being excessive in my writing, but there is a reason for it. Smell ya shortly.

End San Francisco