[159] Screed City

[159]

07/07/2022 Thursday. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, shit. My computer just crashed. The 600 words I just wrote are dust in the wind. ATBMS. Too bad. They were great! I don't know what to do about it. I don't feel like going back to the beginning, so I guess I will think about the good parts and maybe recover my brain while I write them out.

I mean, it has been a hard week. Vermont-style. I feel like it is Winter again, stuck inside all day. Baking. The weather has been fantastic though. Mid to early 70's all week. I mean, open windows, open front door. But I have been stuck inside baking like a hurricane. 100 Cubby Bubbys. Plus I need to do 10 GF Bubbys tomorrow. I mean, I complained about this to Professor Curly and she said:

"The problem is, you are now your own boss. And you can't gold-brick yourself. That is why you are miserable." And it is true. I can't gold-brick myself. But then today as I was driving back from Manch Town with G, I was telling them that I need a new door mat. One that says "Bless This Mess." That is my problem. The door mat I have now doesn't say anything anymore. I have wiped it off. With all my boot maneuvers. I mean, the other day I looked out the front door and there were three giant crows pecking a bag of soup that I found in the freezer that was labeled "Covid Soup 2020." Covid soup! What the hell? I don't remember making it. I don't remember bagging it up. And I don't remember putting it in the freezer. It was only fitting that giant crows would peck their way into it in the end. I mean, it had carrots and chicken and potatoes, I think. I mean, it wasn't looking very good. But still, it was a blast from the past, ATBMS.

I mean, when my computer died I was talking about not being gay anymore and seeing the guy that runs the Granville post office at Mac's. And how he was cruising me. And how I saw him a second time. Today, at Mac's. And how he was smoking a cigarette outside the grocery store, and then he went inside to buy a half-gallon of cheap vodka, and I felt bad for him. To be lonely and gay in small town Vermont. That back in the olden days I would have sucked his dick out of sympathy, but not any more. And he was kind of attractive in a, wounded bird kind of way, but things change as you get older and it turns out that I am not gay at all. And when I thought I was gay, I was very bad at it. I was not a bottom or a top. That my butthole is too tight and I don't let anything in, and also, my thing, being a Walmart medium, doesn't go in too easy either, so I may be good at blow jobs, but I have no interest in those things anymore, I mean, it's funny how things change as you get older. And I wondered about the private life of the guy. I mean, whatever. The way I wrote it was much more better, so, I apologize for doing a whatever, but sometimes you get, you know, stuff happens and junk.

I mean, I also talked about how boring baking was. And how working from home is not all that it is cracked up to be. But still, if I work these three days now, I don't have to work three days later. So, hopefully that frees me up to do more work in Portland that actually pays money. Like good money. Like three times the money I would make doing this nonsense. But still, thinking about the future. I mean.

I mean, I don't even know. I am sad that my stuff got erased, I wonder what happened. I mean, I know this computer is nearly full. And I should go around and erase shit, but do you know how much time that takes? How do you decide? What to get rid of. I mean, at this point, I should just buy a new computer. It would cost like $200 bucks. I could start over and keep this one as like a hard drive. I mean, I need to do it. I should just do it tomorrow. I mean, I bought a vacuum sealer today. That cost $68 dollars. Plus shipping. I mean, I will use that about twice a month. A computer I would use every day. But still, disposable shit like this, and the things I have stored? Just text. I mean, it is millions and millions of vomit like this, but still, it is my life's work, I need to hold onto it, right? Even if it ages like milk, ATBMS. I mean, maybe not. America is eroding every single day at this point. And I think it is good to bear witness. And it's not like the Gestapo will go into the basement and plug my old computers in and look at my past writings, right? I mean, I do all this shit publicly. They will just arrest me. And maybe it is good to have it on computers for future generations to find. Instead of rotting manuscripts or hidden diaries. I mean, who knows? Maybe I should build a lead box and bury it in the goat enclosure? I mean, I guess I need to start working on Wagon Boi [Italics] again. The "In case of emergency" is coming down the pike now.

Either way. G is here. For the weekend. I need to get up early tomorrow and go and get my Screed City Radio training. I mean, G was thinking they would come, but then I was like "And do what? Watch me learn how to run a radio thing? You'd be better off sleeping." I mean, it is nice that they have interest in what I do with my free time, but still, even I am bored by what I am doing tomorrow. I mean, I really am not bored, I am terrified. I am not ready for this. It is something important. Calling my own bluff. That will probably anchor me in Vermont for the foreseeable future. I mean, it is kind of big, but it can be fantastic if I do it right. I just need to treat it with the gravity it deserves. But I am scared. I mean, remember when I did that radio interview when Cooking Cockroach [Italics] had the Montpelier Day thing? I mean, I fucked that shit up so bad that my butthole still hurts about it. I mean, not to suggest I got fucked, but to suggest that I was so wound up and then I failed so badly. I mean, I am going to have to do scripted improv for quite a few weeks before I get good at it. And that scares the hell out of me. But it is going to be great. I will know a lot more tomorrow. And who knows? Maybe I will be a natural? I mean, I have no shortage of words. Only when somebody asks me what my book is about. Even if I am living it, I don't fucking know how to answer that question! Fuck you for asking it.

I mean, I don't know. I had this whole thing lined out, but then my computer failed. I was going to talk about dreams and Professor Curly coming up, but then her movie got in the way, and how I am trying to figure out how to deal with living in Vermont, how I once again found a little release valve but I still don't know what to do about it, about how I have no desire to go back down to the City, not right now, in the middle of Summer, when it sucks down there, but it would be nice to do shit, but also, I have about a million projects that I need to finish, electronic mails to send, about how renting a car for Wyoming is something huge, like albatrossic, that they just take the reservation, and you don't give them your information, and how fucked up that is, like, will the car actually be there when I get to Denver? Will the extra $150 dollars I spent in order to be able to cancel, does that mean anything if they don't actually save a car for me? I mean, getting stuck in Denver, buying $150 dollar hotel rooms until it gets sorted out? Or do they just charge me extra money to drive a limo around Wyoming for three weeks? The sham, the scheme, the rip-off, the rub, the what does Professor Curly's dad call it? The, shit I got no internet, I can't even cheat. Either way, it sucks. I don't know what is going to happen. I just need to keep enough money in my bank account to be able to deal with it when the sword of Damocles comes down. Which is why I am a little nervous about buying a new computer at the moment. Even if it is only $200 dollars. I mean, I love being poor. It is fun all the time. Stress is fantastic. It really lubes my boot-straps. You're right, the "Job Makers" really do the country a service. They shouldn't be taxed at all. We should be thankful that we even have jobs. Living wage? Are you insane? Don't you know that will increase the cost of a lb of ground beef like $.10 cents? In this economy?

[Tangent]

I mean, I don't know. Last time on Screed City I went down a very long-winded tangent that I had to erase myself, and ironically I am being forced to catch up to the thing that was foisted upon me now. And it is not helpful, because it reminds me that I used to have trouble spitting vomit out. That I was clogged up and used a typewriter or even better yet, I would free hand this shit. And it was always touch and go. Because, not only were you pissing into the void, nobody had their ears open to hear it. I mean, I want to explode. But I won't. And it is not because I don't want to offend people or something, or even desire to make a point, but, to go back to changing my feelings about my sexuality, I mean, it turns out that I am not gay. I mean, I really thought I was, but I am decidedly not. I am, how do you say, not exactly gender fluid, but I don't not have feelings towards male dudes, but I am very straight. Judging by the things I look at. And my point is, if I am making a point, I grew up where even my mildest feelings of confusion towards how I feel about things, they were not only ignored, they were shoved down your throat that even having a single thought about being attracted to someone that was your same gender was so repulsive, so abysmal, that you were better off dead than to be in Society. And, I mean, if you think this shit is just a plateau. That things are not about to get insanely worse, you are out of your fucking mind. And, why America is not on fire right now, I mean, the extra bullets in the bag that the guy in Chicago that shot up that parade, were the same amount of bullets the police shot into that black kid in, I don't even remember where it was, Minnesota? Because supposedly he had a gun. And this idea that White people with guns is good, and Black people with guns get them shot up by 60 bullets and the White kid with a gun had this many bullets left and was going to keep shooting after he shot up a parade? I mean, it's not funny. Did I mention the thing about the guy on the radio saying that you should pay back your credit card bills after you declared bankruptcy? Because it was the moral thing to do? That even after you were done with the thing, even if they reject your money, you should keep trying? Like corporations are a moral guideline? A moral compass? A moral beacon? Debt is a moral beacon? Are you out of your fucking mind? And this kind of thinking is how 50% of the country thinks? They same asshole on food stamps that is pissed off about Biden's America because they can't find ground beef for cheap on July 4th?

[End Tangent]

Butwhatever. I need to ditch. I got shit to do in the morning. Here is a good song:

[Insert Riding With The Ghost]

I will smell you Saturday night. After the Farmers Market. Sorry things didn't go so well tonight. On the more horrible side of things, I now have a Twitter account. So maybe this nonsense will start to get some push-back and I will have to close shop. Get off Twitter. Screen shot your enemies. Share your friends.