[168] Screed City
[168]
07/20/2022 Wednesday. Kitchen Cardboard Box. Hampshire House. Portland, Maine.
I don't know, man. This job. I won't lie, it pays really good. But I am finally earning that damn money. Have you ever planed, cut and routed for three days straight and only ended up with 30 upright posts? Outside, in 80-90F degree heat? Working alone? I mean, don't get me wrong, but my lord. I mean, this job is going to take weeks at this point. Which is good for my wallet, but not so good for my mental health. I mean, the weekends even longer, busier than the week days, with earlier hours and half stuck inside. I don't even want to look at the weather in Vermont right now. Especially Sunday. If I am baking inside during 90F weather with no air conditioning, I mean, I may lose it! I am not cut out for this. I mean, I used to be. Back before all the lies I was told growing up, about how if you work hard enough for long enough you will get what you want, plus boot-straps, wore off. I mean, I am too skeptical now. I mean, but the money is quite good. I just need to remember to set 25% of it aside for the Socialism for the Rich, tax every red cent out of the poor Democracy we are running. $.54 cents of every Federal dollar going to the military.
Fuck that. But I don't have it in me to rant about lies I have been fed my entire life. And the irony is that if we don't talk about it, nothing will change, but nobody wants to hear it. Which is why there should be no taxes for anyone making less than $400,000 dollars a year. By person, fuck this two person income bullshit. And from there on up just do a sliding scale that gets bigger and bigger the higher it goes up.
I mean, I am sure you don't want to hear about my tax platform. I mean, maybe you do. Because I know I am in living in la-la land, so maybe you would get a kick out of it. But now is not the time. I mean, poor Junior Mint. The back right brake is shredded. I don't know what to do about it. Last night I drove Brother Luke over to Hampshire House so he could do the thing that I was unwilling to do, which was to go into the house proper and go down into the basement and turn the hot water heater on. Which, even with him here, it felt naughty roaming around in some random houses basement without their knowledge. Fortune favors the bold ATBMS. I mean, after that he had to fix the dryer. Which was what he negotiated from Tyler, the guy who owns this place, in order for me to stay her on the carpet. I mean, I didn't car about the hot water. Not anymore. A nice cold shower in these hot as hell days is quite refreshing, and to force a cold shower upon yourself in the morning is very zesty. I mean, maybe I will do that from now on? A new lease on life, as Professor Curly would say.
I mean, fixing the dryer was fun. The belt had come loose. The belt that turns the tumbler tube, or whatever it is called. I mean, it turns out the tension idler had jumped ship. Which meant that the tube wouldn't spin. I mean, say what you will about stuff, but dryers are extremely simple machines. Like almost too simple. I mean, it turns out you are getting ripped off. Who knew? I mean, they are basically go-carts that dry your clothes. With a place to collect lint. I mean, maybe I am over-simplifying, but still. If you had a tumbler and some bricks and a go-cart engine, some mortar and a few sticks you could build a dryer in your front lawn. I mean, I guess if you were going to take things that far you would have to be kind of insane, because at that point, why not just hang your clothes over your wood stove, but still, it could be done. I mean, sit haplessly in turmoil, you could ditch the motor and just have a crank you cranked yourself. Maybe even fry up a steak on the top of the thing while you dried your clothes.
Either way. Once again though, I would have given up first in this instance. I mean, what the hell do I know about dryers? Then I would have gone on the computer and watched a tutorial. And then, maybe or maybe not, tried to fix it. But not Brother Luke. He was taking screws out, looking at things, taking other screws out, looking at other stuff. I mean, in my defense, I was the one that figured out how the tension idler worked. BL was certain the belt lived on the inside of the housing. But I pointed out that, yes, it was possible that that is maybe a "Way" to do it, but the obvious evidence was that the thing never behaved that way, otherwise there would be bolts and stuff. And either the belt would be broken, or the housing would be broken. Then I put the thing in place, the way I thought it should go, and voila'! I mean, I give myself too much credit, but this is kind of how two minds are better than one ATBMS. I mean, I am a "Last Mile" kind of idea man. I mean, once all the hard work is finished, I swoop down and steal the glory from the jaws of defeat.
I mean, after we fixed the dryer, after Brother Luke fixed the dryer with my annoying help, I gave him a ride home. The back right brake making a god awful noise, like a metal on metal anxiety attack. I mean, my teeth were clenched the entire drive there, and then the entire drive back. And then, then, when I was backing up to park, I heard the noise in reverse, like the satanic panic days. Instead of the brakes saying "Fix me! Please, fix me!" While reversing I heard "Wet Brain, Kill Tim!" I mean, the noise was disturbing. It was the exact noise I heard the last time the caliper froze and the brakes got totally fucked. Last August. I mean, that ended terribly. I mean, it was funny, remember? The drunk guys in the parking lot of that bar in Rochester? I mean, either way though, I did not want that to happen again. So instead of going inside and ignoring the problem, which is what I usually am wont to do, I took the wheel off and had a look-see. And what I saw was not good. One of the brake pads was long gone. The piston of the caliper was not returning to initial position. I mean, I did everything I could to get it back, but I had no tools. So I put the wheel and the lug nuts in the trunk. Walked over to the Walgreen's to find a screwdriver and maybe a wrench. When I got there they had closed already. Do to staff shortages. Which made me sad. I walked around the neighborhood looking for another store. Anything that sold utensils of any sort. Metal ones. Nothing doing. I went back to the car. Looked at it. Sitting on the wheel changing thing. The lift. The jack. I mean, I was going to just leave it like that until morning, but then I thought twice about it. I put the wheel back on. Leaving the lug nuts not fully tightened. I mean, if someone was going to steal my wheel, they would have to work at it. Which is pretty much 99% of the reason why your wheels aren't missing every morning. I mean, stealing is not so much a crime of thought, or ambition, it is almost always merely opportunity. Removing opportunity was not a good idea, right? I mean, people aren't criminals by nature, they are just lazy opportunists. I mean, live in a city for a few months and you will understand this. It's not that people are bad, it's just that they aren't good either. And I may not have designs on your wallet, but if you leave it on your stoop, I mean, that is a different thing entirely. Ya dig?
I mean, I called Brother Luke and said that shit was fucked up and I may be late tomorrow because the Walgreen's doesn't open until 8a and I need to get a screwdriver. And he said he would come pick me up in the morning. And I said I would call him at 7a to let him know if that is what should happen. And he said okay, or just limp the car over to my house. And I said okay.
I mean, when I got into the Hampshire House I looked around for anything that would act like a screwdriver, a butter knife? A mud knife? Any slender piece of metal? But like I said, there aint sample hams in Turkey in this place! Like nothing! I mean, eventually I gave up and started taking things out of my bag, like my water bottle and stuff, and there it was. Like a golden frank underdogs cockily kill-ing shining piece of gold, a fork. A fork from lunch. A fork that I only had because me and Brother Luke didn't have lunch together so I had to eat alone, all by my lonesome. I mean, at this point I had a tool to get that piston back into position. Which was nice. I mean, I celebrated by writing another chapter of Wagon Boi [Italics.] And then I hit the sack by 9p. I mean, I had some awful dream about being in a hardware store that had none of the tools I needed. So I woke up at 5a. Unable to get back to sleep, I got up. I drank some coffee and stuff. Took a hot shower. I mean, already my new lease on life, as Professor Curly would call it, is gone. I mean, it was nice. To have a warm shower. I mean, a hot shower, I mean, I was so fondue under cautionary kettles-ing dirty from the cedar, I mean, I needed a scrub-down. But either way, I was lying on the sidewalk by 6:30a, digging that fork into the piston. And it worked! It really worked. I mean, part of it was man-handling the thing. Which I had not done the evening before. Not because I didn't think of it, but because there was no point. But having something to cram in-between the piston and the rotor was essential. Which I now had! I mean, I did a test and the thing went right back to causing me trouble, but at least I wasn't totally in the dark. I mean, I put the wheel back on. Called Brother Luke and told him I would limp the car over to his house in a few. I went back into the apartment. Brushed my teeth. Got two breakfast burritos from the fridge. My water bottle and coffee thing, my other stuff, and I hit the skids.
I mean, I got about 100 yards before I had to use the brakes and the sound came back, but I was not so worried about it now. I wasn't about to have a seized tire. Which was enough peace of mind that I could ignore the noises for the next eight minutes. I mean, we will see what the solution is. I mean, I have to get back to Vermont on Friday, so I think we need to do something that will make that possible in the next two days, and I am going to baby sit his kids tomorrow night, so there is time. I mean, I have a solution, but I don't want to mention it here. because it is too radical that it will blow your mind. And I don't think I should blow any minds at the moment, but I all I am saying is that I am not worried about it anymore. And next week, when I am back here, we can fix it good. I mean, at the moment that brake is useless anyway. And since I have two very fresh front brakes, I am not worried about my back brakes at all. I mean, from what I understand about science and physics and stuff, the back brakes are bunk anyway. However, having a wheel seize on the interstate, not such a good thing. Right?
I mean, back to cutting cedar. The job is insane. I have two jigs set up. Well, I have one jig with two functions and a second jig for the wider woods. I mean, it's not so much that it is complicated, it's just you need total focus at all times. I mean, and to do it while the heat is bearing down, the dust flowing, the mask, the Future Abes [Hearing Protection,] I mean, dust in the eyes, dust in the pockets, dust in the wind, the thing that we all are, I mean, but also. I have to cut the posts to 44.5 inches. Which is whatever. I just need to remember to do it. And then I have to put the thing in the first jig. Route out 4.75 inches of material. About an inch and a half deep. Flip the thing, add the jig extender, route out 4.75 inches of material. And then check it against the "Original" to make sure it is right. Then I have to put the router on the ground, next to the fan, because the thing is over-heating like crazy because it is both, too small for the job and it is very, very hot. I mean, that thing cools while I take the post inside the building, put it on the stack of the done ones, and take a new one out, cut it at 44.5 inches, then route out 9 and 1/2 inches of material at about 1 and 1/2 inches deep. I mean, I say this like it is a five minute task. But it is not a five minute task. Like I said, I have worked for three days now on this specific part of the project and I still have six more to do, not to mention the two posts I fucked up, that I have to mill new ones for, AND! there are six corner pieces that need special treatment, as well as six metal poles I need to do a modification for, like putting a corn dog coating on a hot dog, if you know what I mean. And when those get done I can finally start routing out the horizontal pieces. Which are both at complex angles and every single one if a different size. I mean, I don't even know what I mean, with three guys this would be a two week job, with one guy, who is the turtle in that story about turtles and rabbits, I mean, also, sudden downpours because the weather in Maine right now is the same weather in Daytona Beach, Florida during the Summer. I mean, woe betide. I mean, progress is being made.
[Insert Plainer Photo]
And I don't know what it means. I mean, next week is my last week to be here. Then Wyoming. Then when I get back, we need to do another pour on the New House at the Compound, and Brother Luke will be in Alaska until the middle of September, so, I mean, either I come over here and work alone until I get to the point where I need his input, or I just wait for him. Which, I mean, and also I need to deal with the insulation at Beaver Haus, and the painter went on a date, and the Farmers Market is relentless. And I am having some issues with the future. I mean, all I can say is that I am very glad that I am making good money now. Otherwise I would make some very dramatic and long reaching choices that would not be beneficial to my future. I mean, not to be dramatic, as Donkey would say, but a guy only has so much in him before he reverts to his old self destructive ways. I mean, I won't lie, I am having fun, but at the same time, I am so over-extended with such low, I mean, I don't know, I may be having a moment of clarity here. What happens in the next few weeks may change the course of my life. In a good way, don't get me wrong. I mean, I may just pull it off, but the stakes are very low, yet the consequences could be very, um, long reaching.
Anyway. It's late. I need to go. I have to get up earlier and pack up because I will be staying at Brother Luke's tomorrow and I need to extricate myself from this very wild crash house. Flop pad? I mean, sleeping on carpet? I mean, I still think it is funny that it doesn't bother me. I sleep just as well as I would on a mattress. I mean, growing up destitute has it's advantages, I guess. I mean, I think probably anyone else would go crazy and do a cost/benefit and get a hotel room. Me? I mean, I have spent a total of $13.56 since being here. And that was for shower curtains. I mean, I have made $2,160. Suck on that cost/benefit!
[Insert Gold Digger]