[154] Screed City

[154]

06/18/2022 Saturday. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Farmers Market Week Six?:

Whirlwind. I am losing track. I mean, I am learning at least. Today was something else. The weather. My lord. 49F all day with rain. And wind. I mean, last night in very tired and confused state I decided that today would be horrible. Nobody would show up. So I only thawed out 26 Cubby Bubbys in total. I mean, I was sold out by 11a. Which, I mean, I learned at least that I should always bring a full round. Which is good to know. I mean, I am now a week behind on figuring out if I need to increase what a "Full Round" means. A full rack, maybe is a better term. Let me think on it.

I mean, G has been here all week. It has been very nice. I took them back today after they helped me at the Farmers Market. I mean, yesterday, I mean, two days ago, my phone charging port broke. It was an emergency of sorts. I had a full battery, but when my phone died, that would be it. I called PegLeg, who, I mean, I should be embarrassed to tell you this, but I kind of am not. Because I am still very on the fence of having a smart phone. I mean, I have had one since the Last Good Summer, but that was a gift from Mimi. And I needed it because I get no reception around here. Wifi calling only. But she was nice enough to give me her old phone. An iPhone 6s. And I used it as good as I could. But then the memory ran out, I mean, I have been deleting old photos and stuff for months now. Offloading one app before I could download another, and using that, and then doing the same if I needed to use another. I mean, my bank app and my Square thing for the Market. I mean, it has sucked, but I have been able to do it. But then the charging port broke, and for once in my miserable life I felt a very intense sense of urgency to get a new phone. Which is where PegLeg comes in. I have been on her family plan for years at this point. Maybe a decade. Back when I was at my most poorest and vulnerable. Needing to have something. And like all good moms she helped me out. I mean, I just never got off the thing. And now that I needed a new phone I needed to get her permission at the phone store. I mean, I had every intention of buying the new phone, I just couldn't get the thing transferred without her consent. I mean, this led to me and G going to Middlebury at 830a yesterday. I mean, I was surprised that G wanted to go, but we had spent all of Thursday indoors. It was raining and I was baking. I think G slept a total of 23 hours. Meaning, I think she was bored as hell. And I was very glad they wanted to come with.

We got there when the store had just opened. I mean, there was already three costumers in the place. One waiting for something and two getting service. G and I looked at phones. What I should get. One of the women getting served was very much one of these Karen's you see on the internet. I mean, she was laying, absolutely laying into this youngster that had apparently deserved her ire, I mean, in her mind. Apparently he had not been kind enough, or didn't have the right customer service skills because she was giving him a lesson on how to be nice. I mean, I don't even know how to describe it. It was so aggressive on her part. The guy, who was had a pony tail and tattoos, maybe 24, I mean, he was talking in very short burst of words. Like with periods after them. Trying to make her understand:

"No. You. See. We. Need. To. Do. This. First. Before. It. Will. Work." And she just couldn't understand. And instead of trying to understand she was saying:

"You just need to be nice about it. Instead of just holding your hand out for the card you should look me in the eye and ask me for my card." I mean, I was hoping the dude was lose his shit on her. I mean, from what I saw, he wasn't being rude, she just didn't understand and since she couldn't understand she thought the problem was kids these days just don't respect their elders. I mean, it was impressive on his part, he said he was sorry. He even said:

"I am sorry. I apologize. Here is what needs to happen." I mean, it was entertaining. I felt bad for them both. Kind of. I felt bad for everyone in the fucking store. Myself included. I mean, I don't have the time or desire to go into the details, maybe later if I run out of things before I am done, but all I will say is; I left with an iPhone 13 and I have been sick about it since. Like physically sick. The thing makes me feel so gross that I kind of want to puke. But what's done is done. There is no turning back. I just need to make things right with PegLeg so this feeling can go away. I mean, somehow I got charged $241 dollars after the $400 dollar rebate and the guy telling me that the new phone is on a 18 month plan on the bill. Fucking racket! I guess I will be building some chicken coops for PegLeg in August when we go out there. Thanks Steve Jobs, may you rot in hell.

I mean, after that we went to Hannaford and bought some supplies. 12lbs of ground beef, 12lbs of mushrooms, four bags of racist onions and two towers of American cheese. Plus some other stuff. Then we went back to Beaver Haus so I could make some bagels for the party this weekend. I mean, that was easy, at first. Bagels are so much easier than Cubby Bubbys. SO much easier. Less time, less work. But you have to make one million of them if you want to make a profit, and there is no telling if anyone would buy them. They didn't at the Roach Town Market. And supposedly, according to the Putin of Gluten, the bagel lady that used to come to the Waitsfield Market would sell out by 11a no matter how many bagels she brought. But I don't believe it. Baking doesn't work that way. I mean, maybe she had years and years of lead up if that was true, but if it was me, I would be feeding dumb asses for weeks if I was to do it. I mean, I decided to make 20 bagels. Two for G, two for Professor Curly, and the rest for the party. I got to work and then something strange happened. I saw a weird light flash when I was walking into the living room. Which happens from time to time. I have ocular migraines every now and again, usually brought on by some direct sunshine reflecting off of some surface. I mean, I don't know where this light came from, but it happened. I ignored it. At first. Then I went to check something on my computer and I couldn't read anything that was on the screen after like the 3/4 area to the right. Like nothing. Blurry and other-worldly. I used to panic when this happened. I mean, the first time it happened I nearly passed out from anxiety, thinking I was minutes from death. I was washing dishes in Laramie, Wyoming at this place called the Altitude. I ran out into the dining area. Why? I don't know. Thinking I could out run death. Then I ran back. Then someone asked me what the hell I was doing. I ignored them and ran back to the prep room. Then I ran back into the dish room and powered through. Eventually the flashing lights and blindness went away. I mean, my skin hurt because of it. I really did think I was dying. But since then I have learned to deal. Mostly I just need to take some pain killers and take a nap. I mean, yesterday I took some pain killers and tried to power through. But it got worse, not better. I put the dough I had made in the fridge and laid down on the carpet under the kitchen table. I mean, ten minutes later I got up to see if things were better. They were worse. I was starting to panic now. I mean, what do I do? Am I having a stroke? I remember this story about Neil Young looking in the mirror and seeing half of his face as a lightening bolt and how he immediately went to the doctor, I mean, somebody must have been there to help, but he got lucky and the stoke didn't kill him, but, I mean, I was in the butthole middle of Vermont, G was upstairs, sure, but they can only kind of drive, I mean, the thing was still only in my right eye, I could have made a phone call, or had G make a phone call, but I forced myself to relax and actually take a nap. Under the kitchen table. 20 minutes later I was fine. I got up and finished making those bagels. I haven't told anyone this story, but I hope those jerks feel appreciative when they eat them tomorrow. Because they were hard won.

I mean, after I made them, I let them cool for a couple hours. Cleaned the house getting ready for Professor Curly to show up. I put the bagels in the freezer when they were cooled. Did some more cleaning. Then took them and G to the Compound to eat some tacos and hang out. Which was nice. Carlisle was there. He got his MFA! He applied for a position at the New Yorker. Just joking. I don't think that is his plan. Maybe he is going to go teach at Columbia University. Just joking! Congrats Carlisle! Get a job, you bum!

After we ate tacos me and G went back to Beaver Haus to wait for Professor Curly to show up. She showed up. We talked for a while. Then we all went to bed. I was super exhausted, but for some reason I was nervous about the Farmers Market and the weather and the decision to only take 26 Cubby Bubbys. Because it was going to be a lesson in learning. Either I was right and nobody showed up, or people would show up and I would sell out by 11a. Which is what happened. The second thing. Which, okay, thanks world, now I know that the Farmers Marked is fickle as hell. Like I didn't already know that. So rude. I mean, but that is that, I will do a "Full Roster" from here on out. I mean, that is good knowledge, I suppose.

I mean, last night I slept maybe two hours. From 3a to 5a. The rest of the night was just almost falling asleep and then waking up startled. I left the windows open because it was so hot yesterday, but as the temperature fell I started to get cold. But, fucking Vermont. This thing where you are both freezing and sweating at the same time. I don't know how to describe it. It's like an external fever. You can't be under the covers and you can't be out of the covers. You have to do like a strategic thing where one leg is covered, half your hip, a quarter of your chest and somehow the other side of your body's arm, but then you have to do a switcheroo a few moments later because the covered parts are now sweating and the uncovered parts are now freezing. I mean, it is like hiking up a mountain above tree-line. You can't get right. Unzip, re-zip, take this off, put that on, take that off, stop, drink some water, put everything on, walk a few steps uphill, unzip something, zip something else up. I mean, it's fine for hiking, but it sucks for sleeping. I mean, I felt insane the entire time. And, frankly, I was glad when it was time to get up, because I was exhausted from the night of discomfort.

I mean, G was very cute all day. We wore the same outfit. I implored them to wear long johns. They had tights, thankfully. And a sweater thing that the Publisher had lent them last night. During the taco-time. I mean, it was cold as hell all day. Windy, rainy, sunny, cold, windy, sunny, rainy. All day. And we had to just stand there even after selling out. As per the contract I signed. I mean, it was kind of brutal. Luckily the Upskirter was wearing tights and a long coat. I mean, there was no scandal. I mean, the Putin of Gluten was in good spirits. He finally brought me his gluten free recipe for a Cubby Bubby. As well as a thing, his own version of the Cubby Bubby. I mean, I ate it. It was quite good. The recipe is very simple. And it looks good too! I have plans to try and make some tomorrow. Not sure if I will have the time, but I am going to try. I mean, it needs to happen. Once I started bringing the Veggie Bubbys people stopped asking for a vegetarian option, yet, I think at this point there has been 10 people who have asked for the gluten free option. I mean, I am going to start by making three of them, then go from there. I mean, if I don't do it tomorrow, it will have to wait a couple weeks, because my schedule starting Monday is going to be nuts. I mean, I need to focus. That is all. I can do that, I swear! Come on, Joe! Pull those boot-straps up!

I mean, nothing really happened at the Market today. Aside from G being there and selling out by 11a. Abbie is on vacation. For two weeks. I am no closer than ever to figuring out if she had a baby. I mean, she did send me an electronic mail telling me that I was shirking my duties at the Farmers Market because I keep forgetting to put away the traffic cones I am in charge of. I mean, I wrote back and said I would try harder and I was sorry. You're right, I am wrong, I am foolish and I'm sorry. But then she sent a general electronic mail to everyone instead of responding directly to me, which either means that I was not the only one that was shirking their duties, or, like a good manager, she didn't want to single me out. I mean, I think it was both of those things, but damn it! Abbie is a mystery to me! I mean, I brought this up with the Putin of Gluten. I said, I mean, hold on, I was thinking that maybe he had some intel on Abbie, like maybe he knew she had a baby and just didn't tell me, I mean, his wife used to have Abbie's job, so, I mean, I assume he gets the gossip, but he is kind of self-absorbed, so maybe he wouldn't even see it as gossip, and would maybe just ignore the stuff while pontificating at his backyard grill while roasting some portabella mushrooms or something. But I said:

"Man," Thinking I could sneak one in on him, like trick him into giving me gossip, "that Abbie, I mean, I just can't understand her. She's going on vacation, right?" I mean, he didn't fall for it. He said:

"What do you mean, you can't understand her?" I said:

"I mean, she is an enigma to me, I just feel like she has a secret life that I don't know anything about." And he looked sideways at me. Sardonic. He said:

"You mean you're not her friend?" I was caught. I said:

"Well, no, I mean, not entirely that, I mean, who goes on vacation for two weeks? Where is she going?" He fell for this one. He said:

"She mentioned something about having her car packed up and ready to go." See, I was quick, and G was there. And listening. I said:

"Man, what is that? G and I drove out to Wyoming last Summer, it took us three days. You think she is going camping or something?" G helped me. They said:

"Yeah, that was a long trip." The Putin of Gluten found this conversation suddenly absurd. He said:

"Yeah, I don't think she is driving to Michigan or something, but maybe." And see! I was still pretty smart I said:

"Maybe she is going to LA?" The Putin of Gluten actually considered this. He said:

"Yeah, I mean, maybe she is driving for five days, hang out for a day or two and then driving back." I mean, he was onto me. I said:

"I mean, it's possible, if she left the next day after the Market and then drove straight, and then hung out, drove back, I mean, that is enough time to have a week in California. Right? Leave on Sunday, there is what, okay, one week, weekend, two weeks, weekend, and then back. That is basically three weeks, right?" The Putin of Gluten wasn't buying it. He said:

"Maybe, but she didn't go to California." I gave up. He didn't either know anything, or he was fucking with me. I said:

"She probably went to Canada then, or Maine. I guess, but still, I just wonder about her, sometimes." He went right back to being a jerk about it. If he knew she had a baby, he would never tell me. He said:

"So, you are just confused because she is not your friend?" I had to admit it. I said:

"I suppose." I mean, that was that. If I am ever going to figure this out, I am going to have to befriend Abbie. Which seems pretty weird to me. She and I are not on the same wave-length. But it is true that maybe that is just not true! I mean, I hate acquiesce to the Putin of Gluten, because he is such a man-splaining pain in the ass, but I think he may be right, which maybe is a good way to live in this world. I mean, I am not too old that I can't get new friends, but still, that seems like bad faith to befriend someone just to find out if they had a baby since last Farmers Market. Which! Means that I think I just have to let the mystery go. I either engage with the world naturally, or I never get the BIG answers to life. And then, in the end, doesn't that mean that the BIG answers in life is the friends you meet along the way? I mean, sorry for blowing your mind, if you need a hug, just ask. Or if you need to be alone for a while, I understand that too, but just know, I am here for you when you are ready.

I mean, after the Market was done it started pissing rain. Breaking down was a pain in the ass. I need to deal with this shit tomorrow, now that I think about it. My tent is still wet. My sign. I mean, the wind was coming from one side, the rain from another. Everything was getting drenched. Me and G managed to get everything in order. Oh! I forgot to mention that Professor Curly showed up with her dad and step-mom. They wanted to have lunch, but the weather was making things suck. They ditched and went back to Hancock to have lunch at the hotel. Me and G were maybe going to meet them, but we needed to break down and G needed to pack because they were going back home and then getting on plane to Italy. The idea was maybe we could meet PC and her dad and step-mom afterwards. I mean, me and G got loaded up, meaning, I went and got Junior Mint, and we loaded the car. Drove back to Beaver Haus. I unloaded the car while G packed. Then PC showed up because the timing didn't work out right. After that me and G got on the road to Manchester. Which was hard driving. G slept the whole time. I was super exhausted. Forcing myself to stay awake. Eating sunflower seeds. I mean, even stopped for an energy drink at a gas station I was so pooped. I mean, we got to Manchester. Had to wait an extra thirty minutes because things never seem to ever work out. I said goodbye to G. I mean, it was a great week. It is always hard to say goodbye, but things move on. I said to them:

"Have fun in Italy! See you in the City in July." And got back on the road. I mean, I was better now. Not sleepy at all. I hauled ass back to Beaver Haus. Plucked Professor Curly from the jaws of defeat and hauled ass to the Compound. It was just in time. Dinner was being served in the DoubleWide Manor. Duck noodles and Scott made a fucking unbelievable duck liver pate'. I mean, Sebastien's duck noodles were something else, but the pate' was unexpected and, I mean, earlier today the Putin of Gluten had gone on some rant that was pretty funny. I mean, I don't want to overshadow how good the pate' was, so I will slip this in, sorry, Scott, but you have to keep making this thing. I mean, as a pate' lover, this was the best one I think I have ever eaten, I mean, really. It was damn fucking good. I wish I would have been paying better attention when he was describing what went into it, but the herbs and I think, hearts and whatever, I mean, to use Professor Curly's half-insult, half-praise of the Cubby Bubbys, it was surprisingly good! I mean, I didn't expect it to suck, but it was out of this world. And I am not a perceived value kind of guy. I would have given myself gout had there been a gallon of the shit to eat. Which brings me back to the Putin of Gluten. He, for some reason, decided to tell me that he learned recently that:

"No, I have been eating things like liver and heart. And heart is something, I don't even know what to say about it. I was suspect at first, but then, I mean, you cut all the things off, and you end up with this hunk of meat, that is basically a filet mignon, I mean it is a little beefier than what you are used to, but you cook it up rare, or medium rare, I mean, I learned recently that every thing you eat, the thing you eat, it goes right to the thing that you are eating. Like if you eat kidneys, that helps your kidneys, like the food knows where to go, and the liver, that is the best thing in the world to eat, because it goes right to your liver." And if you eat brains? You get smart like Einstein. I mean, I don't mean to mock the guy, who the hell knows, but it was funny that he told me this and then I went to the Compound and ate ALL the pate' that I could shovel into my mouth, while thinking, I know what happens if you eat too much pate', you get gout because your body can't process all things that are in another animals liver, and it collects in your joints and you start to have problems with your legs and knees and such. But, I mean, I guess, like all things, moderation is key. But, really, I could eat a gallon of the junk that Scott was churning out. And that is probably not good.

I mean, I should probably describe the atmosphere at the Compound tonight. About how I screamed into Beaver Haus and picked Professor Curly up with this stuffed dog and a cake for birthdays, but I have run out of steam. It was nice. It was raining. Which is the reason we were in the DoubleWide Manor instead of being down at DogBoy Beach. That there were cupcakes and Lovey Dog humping legs. And everyone was there. And exhausted. Half-hungover. And Grit is going to be 10 in two days. And other kids and horrible champagne. But instead of that I will say, me and Professor Curly had to haul ass back to Beaver Haus because she is heading back to the City tomorrow to start editing her movie and after all of this, these crazy last few days we had about three seconds of alone time. I mean, I won't pretend that things weren't zesty. Because they were. And I won't pretend that things weren't mutually satisfying, because they were. And I won't pretend that when it was my turn I got a leg cramp so bad that I didn't stop, I just punched my leg and rode my donkey down into the Grand Canyon, because I can't pretend that it didn't end in some explosive reality where I was able to have my cake and eat it too, as the bridesmaids say. I let out a party popper, and it's not even my birthday!

I mean, tomorrow is Professor Curly's birthday! Happy Birthday! And Grit's on Tuesday! Happy Birthday! And Sebastien's birthday two days ago! Happy Birthday!