[174] Screed City

[174]

08/04/2022 Thursday. Milk Crate. Stabbin' Cabin. Worlando Beach, Wyoming.

Nice day. Hotter than balls. Slept in to about 7:30a. Got up. No one was around. PegLeg had left for work. G was in TenSleep with Cousin A. I made some coffee and looked at stuff. I mean, typical morning. At some point Brother Charley called and invited us to dinner at his house. At some point later PegLeg called and asked me to lunch at the new Mexican place in town. I told her about the dinner invite. At that point the day was basically made up. G and Cousin A came over to the house around 10a. Somewhere in-between those hours I bought 40 Dishwasher t-shirts. Took a shower. I mean, G and Cousin A were in the kitchen making coffee on the espresso machine when I got out of the shower. Steaming milk and what not. We hung out for a while. Chatting and stuff. G and Cousin A got it into their heads that I needed a haircut. Which meant that I needed to wash my hair. Which, I mean, I usually wash my hair about once a week these days. Today was not one of those days. So G had to find some shampoo. Which I did not have. And there was none to be found, so I washed the dishes in the sink and G used dish soap to wash my hair. In the kitchen sink. Then they and Cousin A spent about 20 minutes giggling and making noises cutting my hair. In the end I had a "High school boy do." Whatever that means. A shorter bad hair cut that was passable is what it looks like. I mean, I was digging the multiple rat-tails thing I had going, but I apparently was the only one.

Then we hung out some more. G wanted a fried egg. I said that lunch was coming up soon. They said: "Yeah, in like two hours." So instead of frying an egg they went to town to get a donut. I stayed behind. Making a couple phone calls. Listening to stuff. Writing a couple electronic mails. Then they came back. Saying they had talked to Grandma PegLeg. That lunch was supposed to be at 11:30a. Which seemed early, but I didn't care. I didn't have breakfast. I mean, a little while later we were in the 4-Runner driving into town. Cousin A directing my driving. Which was cute. I mean, no offense, but I kind of grew up here, the fact that they thought they knew the roads better was endearing. I mean, as a sign of age and what not. Excitement. We went to the new Mexican place. Which was in the old Habaneros place. Which at one point was also the new Mexican place. I mean, every couple years a new Mexican place opens up around here. It gets a lot of business for a while. Then all the locals remember they are racist and rebel against it and then it shuts down. And since this town that is basically a local business only and farming economy, which, I mean, it used to at least attempt to draw tourists in, not anymore, I mean, businesses like this depend on the fickle nature of the locals. Sound familiar? A whole town predicated on the farmers market ethos. I mean, whatever. The place was already slammed at 11:30a. With more people coming and going as we sat there. I ordered the steak street tacos. G got the carnitas plate. PegLeg got enchiladas? I can't remember. Cousin A got some sort of chicken salad. They all drank ice water. I drank iced tea. Unsweetened. The lunch came with chips and salsa. I mean, the place reminded me of the taqueria that we went to in San Francisco after the reading back in May? I mean, before me and the Publisher got on an overnight flight back East. I mean, it was good. Too good for Worland. Hopefully the place stays open. I mean, if the fickle racist assholes let it stay open. I mean, maybe they will remember they are America First douchebags and the place will suddenly be boycotted, but until that happens they are going to be making some good money.

I mean, Justin D was there. With his dad. I hadn't seen him in over a decade. He is in both Killing the Math [Italics] and Killing the Math 2, Math's Revenge [Italics] so it was nice to see him. I walked over to his table and stood there. He was very suprised. Not to see me, he didn't recognize me. I honestly think he thought I was some dude that was about to try and fight him. He eventually recognized me. Told me that he was working for his dad and took my phone number. I told him we should hang out and that I saw a guy that looked like him yesterday. I said: "Yeah, I thought it was you, but with long hair." He said: "Yeah, I don't have long hair." I said: "And sandals." He said: "Yeah, that wasn't me." I mean, I doubt he will call or text, but if he does, it might be nice to catch up. I mean, poor Justin is all I will say about it. He was one of those guys that had a lot of ideas but never managed to get out. And as time has gone on, he just gets further and further in. I mean, he was lonely 25 years ago. He has now shifted into something almost, I mean, I said I wouldn't talk about it, so I won't. But he seemed healthy, which is nice. I mean, his dad ditched before I could even say: "Hello, Mister D." Which means they were either talking about me before hand or he is just as much of a weirdo as his son is. I mean, both things are both possible and probable. You don't see your best friend from high school standing in a taco place in Worland and not notice he is there. Even if I look like a middle aged chunko.

I mean, after he ditched I sat back down at the table. PegLeg busted out a giant calendar and laid it on the table. Suddenly we were planning all sorts of things for the coming weeks. Swimming, meals, shows, et cetera, et al. That part was fun. After that me and G and Cousin A got back into the 4-Runner and PegLeg got back into her car and went to work. I had some trouble getting the behemoth out of the parking lot. The thing was pinched and compared to the other vehicles mine was compact. Some cowboy lady yelled: "You got it!" I ignored her advice and did a different maneuver. I wanted to tell her that it was a rental and I wasn't taking any chances. Instead I yelled back: "Tight squeeze, eh?" This somehow embarrassed her. I mean, Wyoming cowardice. All sorts of comments to be made about the world, but an inkling, a whisper of push-back and they crumble. I mean, my guess is that I sent her heart racing with that comment. She probably had trouble eating her lunch. I mean, maybe she called the sherrif to complain about a 4-Runner with Nevada plates using woke terminology. That the guy should keep his eyes peeled for any Critical Race Theories happening around town.

I mean, whatever. I drove the back roads back to PegLeg’s. This time Cousin A was actually helpful in her directions. There was construction that needed avoiding. I mean, we drove back to her car in order to get the car seat to give to Brother Buck at the Brewery in town because he was going to take Little J to the doctor to get a few shots. We drove to the Brewery. I stopped in front of the now shut down movie theater. And to my astonishment they had this giant neon sign of an "Indian Chief's" head as their logo. I mean, I don't ever remember seeing it. I mean, it looked new, but my guess is that it had always been there. It is just with fresh eyes that I noticed how kind of messed up it was. I mean, the place is called "Twin Cinemas" or was called "Twin Cinemas" so why have a giant sign like that? I kind of wanted to buy it from them. Not that I could do anything with it, it was just so very fantastic. And not in a good way. I mean, Wyoming has a lot of memorabilia and sites dedicated to the "Native Holocaust" or "Manifest Destiny" or whatever you want to call it. I mean, the thing is, you can't tell what is being remembered. I mean, of course at first all things were meant to remember people like Custard or whatever, Custer and his last stand and stuff or massacres and whatever, but back when people remembered them in the first place it was all about remembering the good White people who gave their lives to defend our god given country from the heathens, but as time has gone on, that line is now blurred and instead of things like this neon sign being an homage to, I don't know, the "Indian Spirit" I mean, can you imagine if the Nazis won and they erected tributes to the "Jewish Spirit?" I mean, part of the reason that they kept such good records is because they wanted to have a memory of all the trials and tribulations ATBMS that the poor Nazis had to fight against to achieve independence. And not in a good way, if you understand what I am saying. So seeing stuff like this is almost cartoonish. And of course, most of us are born Americans so we all know how that history is taught, but still, imagine being from the outside. Seeing that sort of fetishizing. I mean, yeah, we killed them all, but boy, how noble, they put up such a fight. Now use that spirit and go out there and score some goals in the name of Chief Joseph! Go out there and score a goal in the name of Auschwitz prisoner number 19533! Who lasted ten months in the camps before we put him in the gas chamber!

I mean, sorry to get so dark, but it is very odd a thing. I mean, I drove down the road and took a right. Parked in front of the Brewery. We got out. Went inside. Brother Buck was doing some brewing. Another two guys were there. One guy was cleaning kegs. Another guy was brewing. The owner, I think. I mean, I met him, but I don't remember his name. I shook his hand. It was a nice handshake. I gave him the Bill Clinton. Which is a good way to shake hands if you don't want your fingers to get smashed. And then Cousin A handed her father the leftover lunch stuff. He stood there eating the stuff on top of the clean kegs. We talked. Mostly about brewing stuff. I told him about the Ticklers. He had a lot of good ideas on how to make them better. I didn't have it in me to tell him that I didn't have any plans to improve my quality, but he gave me some suggestions anyway. I mean, I told him about the idea of flavoring the things with Sumac. He told me about some different yeasts and this beer they were doing called Worlando Peach. Which was peach flavored. Then he poured me a fresh beer from one of the tanks. I mean, it wasn't big or anything. I tried to refuse. He wasn't having it. I mean, he used one of these curly-Q things to pour it. And the beer was very good. And I drank it. Then he went into the walk-in cooler and came back with a really foamy thing. Which wasn't as good as the first thing. I mean, I drank it anyway. And then we talked some more about EMT stuff that he was doing and the NoWoodStock music festival next weekend. Which I plan on going to. Then we drove back to PegLegs. I took the back roads past the Sugar Beet Factory that is the focus of Sugar Beets [Italics] just to have a look-see. I mean, I need to go and find Johnny at some point in this trip. I have some questions about stuff.

Then we got back to PegLeg’s. We sat down on the couches. Before long I fell asleep. Between the heat and the lunch and the half a beer I drank, I was pooped. I mean, the nap was short and I got nothing but grief from G and Cousin A about it. I mean, they were like: "Why not go into the other room and lay down?" And I was like: "If I did that, I wouldn't have fallen asleep." I mean, whatever, teenagers. They are the worst!

I mean, after that we just kind of hung around. Little J came over after Brother Buck brought her to the doctor to get shots. She had a shaved ice and three Band-Aids. The shaved ice was "Golden Tiger" flavored. I asked her about the shots. She said her dad had to hold her in a big bear hug. I asked if she got a lollipop. She said she did "Fruit Flavored" and then she said: "Oop, bathroom!" And ran to the bathroom. A little while later there was the sound of lots of running water. And I said to Cousin A: "What's going on in there?" And she said: "Oh, she is probably just washing her hands." Then the door flew open and Little J yelled: "I can't get the water off!" And then Cousin A went into the room. Turned the water off and said: "Whoa, I guess you had a poop, eh?" Little J just ran off to play with toys. And then a little while later there was some other incident that I don't know what happened, but some dirty underwear ended up in the washer. And then I was reminded of what hanging out with five year olds is like. There is a lot of bathrooms involved.

I mean, I don't really remember what we did for the next couple of hours. I know that Cousin A was warming up for her open mic show this evening. Which involved a lot of piano and acoustic guitar. I rooted around the kitchen making sure I could make bagels at some point when I am here. I mean, I must have made bagels last year because I found all the stuff that I would have bought that PegLeg would have never bought. I mean, not really. Like poppy seeds and specific garlics and dried onions. I mean, whatever, I can make bagels. I will probably make Cubby Bubbies too. I mean, at some point PegLeg came home. Then we all hung out for a while. Then at some point G and Cousin A had to go to town to the do the gig, so Little J stayed behind and me and PegLeg waited for Brother Buck to come pick Little J up. Which took him longer than expected. And Brother Charley had put an order in at Napa for me to pick up. Light bulbs for his trailer. I mean, eventually Brother Buck showed up. We walked Little J out to the gates and met him there. She got into the back of the truck. Apparently there was a Happy Meal waiting for her. Which she was very excited about. They left. Me and PegLeg got into her car and we drove to town. Stopping at Napa to get the light bulbs for the trailer. Which took forever, because everything at Napa always takes forever. I mean, I had a giant flash-back to my youth. Hanging out inside. Waiting and waiting. But instead of my dad talking to Rocky about really boring stuff I didn't care about, it was just me, waiting for them to get there stuff together. I mean, like everything in Worland, even the Napa was in a state of inertial decay. I mean, it won't be long before everyone that works there is replaced with a indifferent youngster staring at a computer not knowing the first things about cars. Making $10 bucks an hour. While this corporation just sucks all the business out of town. I mean, they have been doing it for at least 30 years at this point, and the final nail in the coffin of local business has already been put in place. Soon the hammer will fall. I mean, at least the Farmers Coop is getting smart and building a collective. Which, I mean, is looking more and more like a farmers market as time goes by. The banks are being replaced by credit unions. I mean, there is still a chance these dicks can pull out of the tailspin they created, but you never know. How long before they get greedy and sell out to some corporation that is starting to realize they are losing the marketing game? I mean, we will see. I mean, the difference between a Walmart and local businesses is not that the Walmart is one thing and the local businesses are a different thing. It is the willingness of the people to resist the idea of profit over everything else. And the second you remove integrity from the equation, all bets are off. And if you can make $10 dollars an hour working at Napa or $5 dollars an hour being a farmer or whatever, I mean, who cares when the rent is due? I mean, I am speaking about like seven different things colliding right here, but maybe you catch my drift? All it takes for things to change is easy money over there. And hard money right here. You'd be stupid not to take a big payout, right? I mean, that is how they gentrify neighborhoods. Buy out all the poor people first. At a larger sum then the buildings are worth because the market is depressed, I mean, because who wouldn't take twice what the building is worth? You would be stupid to leave money on the table like that, right? And then suddenly, boohoohoo, everyone is White. I mean, I am not pro-gentrification or preying on the poor, but integrity is the last thing that needs to come down before the corporations take over. And, living in a capitalist Society, the biggest sin you can commit is being poor. The collective shame alone is enough to crush even the most ardent supporter of Community. I mean, being the last hold-out is a lot different than a collective actively saying no to these vampires. But convince the person staying up all night worrying about paying their bills, a stomach full of ulcers, that holding out and not taking a giant payday is the way to go. Especially if they had to watch their family getting destroyed by the economy. I mean, on one hand I do have some respect for Worland resisting such change, on the other hand, they do have an Arby's and a McDonald's and a Loaf & Jug and a Napa and a Blair's. So it's not like they collectively decided not to change. It's just that they kind of forced their own hand in a way that nobody really has any interest in the tiny amount of money they would make destroying the community because it is in the middle of nowhere. And even if it is the biggest town in a 30 mile radius, people are still willing to drive three hours to Billings or whatever to buy things. And unless all the corporations, like the CostCos and the Walmarts and Targets and HomeGoods are all willing to come together at the exact same time to make this shithole a shopping mecca, what is the point? I mean, I feel like if Big Jeff came around tomorrow and offered an Amazon warehouse to the town they would take it no questions asked. But that offer would go to Casper. Not Worland. Because Worland is in the middle of absolutely nowhere.

I mean, my point is, they may pretend like they don't want it, but it isn't because they don't want it, it is more like nobody asked them to the prom so they don't want to go to that dance for jerks anyway. I mean, it is more about rejection than it is about integrity. If you ask me. And you did. Otherwise you would have stopped reading paragraphs ago.

I mean, we got to the cafe where Cousin A was playing at by her last three songs. We listened and cheered her on. She did a great job! Very talented. She is playing the music festival on the Sunday. Which is a big deal. I mean, to have that ability to play out like that. I mean, I would have benefitted from something like that growing up. Alas, nothing doing. Instead all I got was being told I was fag that should kill himself. Which, I mean, boot-straps aside, that didn't help me out very much. I mean, after she finished we hauled ass to TenSleep. Cousin A stayed behind. I mean, we parked in the back of Brother Charley's house. Went inside. Got barked at by the dog. Olie. Then we talked in the kitchen while Sister Megan cooked and Little O hung around. Wearing very cute denim overall shorts. We ate on the porch. Tacos. With corn tortillas and flour tortillas and all the fixin's. It was very pleasant. Cousin E came around for the dinner. Teenaged to the maximum. Facial hair and everything. Then we talked and talked some more. Planned the camping trip for this weekend with the llamas. Amongst some other things.

We left. The drive back to Worland was at sunset. We were driving West. It was something else. I took a bunch of photos, but on PegLeg’s phone. The only one I took was when we stopped to take a photo of a tractor doing some night things in a field.

[Insert PegLeg Photo]