[193] Screed City

[193]

09/08/2022 Thursday. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, I am back in Vermont. Portland was pretty uneventful. I mean, this week. Working and writing. I mean, the work was slow going. The writing, fast and loose. Like cow stool. Plop plop. You dry it out. Light it on fire, and then you can make pottery with it. I mean, I am having some new ideas. About maybe doing a Screed on Tape kind of thing. I mean, I also had this idea about artwork and the way I write. I mean, the things I write are more like paintings then they are like MFA things. I mean, quick and dirty and then I move on to the next thing. I mean, I do clean the stuff up a bit before I publish, I mean, mostly, not this stuff, but if this was to become a book it would be slightly edited. Mostly for entertainment reasons. Like ixnay the oliticspay. But you catch my drift, yeah? I mean, whatever. Just a thought.

But this week. I mean, working on the new bar for the Tasting Room at the Brewery. No Brother Luke. He is still on sabbatical. Until like the 19th. I mean, they have so much work for me to do I don't know what to say about it. I mean, we will see. The money is kind of wild. But, I mean, it isn't that insane. Considering. I mean, I do feel bad when I find myself ensconced in 20 minute conversations with Brewery employees about absolutely nothing. I mean, it is what it is. But as much as I am needed there, I will also be the first to get cut if austerity shit comes around. So I should work while the working is good, and all indications suggest that they need me quite a bit, but still, if anyone was to do some sort of analysis of cost versus work, I mean, I would find myself on the chopping block ATEC.

But the work I am doing. Right now. This week. It is kind of a double combo of carpentry and rigging. I mean, I am putting wires in-between the posts I put up back in July. On four inch centers. So kids don't get their heads stuck, apparently. I mean, I think depending on head size, there is still that danger, but the little brats would need to have some pretty small noggins to get stuck. But, I mean, remember when James' kid got his head stuck in that wrought iron fence all those years ago? In Brooklyn. How it made the papers? I mean, kids start out with pretty big heads to begin with. Which is why they are so dumb when they slide out into this world. You know? Why it takes them 18 years before they have any sense. I mean, relatively speaking. I mean, teenagers get their heads stuck in things too. Even adults, for that matter. I mean, helmets are a thing for good reason. The human noodle gets up to all sorts of precarious things over a life-time.

But the work it meticulous and slow. I spent an entire day making a jig for the thing. I mean, literally and entire day. From 8a to 6p. Minus lunch, that is 9.5 hours making a jig. It cost the Brewery nearly $1000 bucks. I mean, I shouldn't look at stuff in those terms, but as an hourly employee my whole life, I mean, I can't not think of things in those terms. And then I spent the next two days using the thing. And I will spend all of next week using the thing. But if I fuck something up, I mean, it would suck pretty good. I mean, the stakes are low, as far as the work is concerned, but at the same time I can't fuck it up. Which is kind of funny, to be in that sort of position. I mean, I almost feel respected. Like, things will take the time that they take, otherwise they will just cause themselves more grief if things get fucked up along the way. I mean, the work is entirely exposed. There is no baffling, c'mon! Paint it black! Let's gooooo! Tim Murphy-style approach to the matter. And, as much as I am on the side of gold-bricking the fuck out of every employer ever born, for once, for the very first time ever, in what? 30 years of being an employee, I am given the freedom to actually do the job on the terms that the job needs to get done by. I mean, I find it a little wild and fascinating. But there, up there in the coffers, there sits a vulture with their eyes on the bottom line. I mean, I don't feel like a fraud or that I don't actually belong where I am, it's just that I am an American worker. I know the consequences. When my job is to get the job done, and the person above me's job is to make sure the job gets done, and the person above them's job is to make sure the job gets done as cheap as possible, and the person above them's job is to make sure that the person below them is making sure the person below them is making sure the person below them is getting the job done as cheaply as possible, I mean, it's every person for themselves at that point. And since I am at the bottom of the pile of turds, I mean, the turds above me weigh heavy.

Yet the rub, as far as I am concerned is pretty simple. They can pay me $90 bucks an hour to do my job. Which is fine, because I am "Contracted." Which means I am saving them money to begin with. But as long as I never work full-time, I am good to go. I mean, a few weeks here, a few weeks there, that is all just fine, but as long as I don't make, say, the full amount of money that would come with such a stark hourly rate, I think I should be good. As long as someone doesn't come along and sees that I worked an entire year, 40 hours a week for 52 weeks, which is what? $187,200 dollars, I mean, that would send some pretty large red flags up. Especially when what I am actually doing is pretty abstract. Just one guy doing random things around the Brewery. I mean, you see what I mean? Why I am slightly nervous about it? I mean, I do expect a conversation at some point about them trying to reduce my hourly rate. And, I mean, when that day comes, I am not sure what I will say about it. Because suddenly there is other work with BMI that pays roughly the same money. And this other work on cruise ships that pays roughly the same money. I mean, if I am just some dude, that, I mean, to be generous to myself, I mean, I do have about 30 years of experience doing this kind of work, but, I mean, I can't really imagine that they couldn't get a dude like me hired that would be willing to make $70 an hour and thank them for it, someone who is local and doesn't have the same disposition as I do. Meaning, they don't have a t-shirt that says: "Gold Brick or Bust." I mean, I haven't made the shirt yet, but soon enough. Or: "I Gold Brick Because They Nickel and Dime." I mean, I don't know what I mean. I mean, my entire experience in my life, being part of the work force, I mean, take it when you can get it. Tomorrow you'll be broke and starving yet again.

I mean, my point is; feeling respected at work is a new feeling for me. And it is funny to actually be given the actual tools to succeed instead of the extra bit of rope that is Capitalism, which is only there to allow you to hang yourself with. But still, I mean, once again, the labor market right now is fantastic for a boy like me. I mean, I may not have very big cards at the moment, but by god, I am holding every single fucking one of them!

I mean, I could have said that more eloquently, but I didn't. I mean, that ride back from Portland to Vermont, I really need to factor in the longer trip. I mean, I am saying that right now because the interstate is such fucking terror that it just isn't worth the extra 45 minutes it takes to get here. I mean, I feel like garbage. For no reason. To save basically half an hour. I mean, as I am driving, every single time, I have such intense existential dread from it that I don't know how to recover from it. I mean, it is insanely gross. I mean, life is a video game? My entire brain is only used for the purpose of getting from one point to the next point? There is no meaning in-between? But wait. I thought the point was the travel? But wait, the travel is driving next to a bunch of assholes for three and a half hours while looking at traffic and roads? I mean, the radio spitting out Right Wing propaganda or shitty pop music you have heard a million times? I mean, this is what life is? I am one of 350 million Americans just going about their daily lives? Just waiting for my tires to pop, or my engine to start smoking? I mean, the Commute, that is the thing. That is the thing that is the thing that makes all of the other things seem so miserable. I mean, it used to be that you commute to the fields in the morning to work the land. Or commute to the forest to shoot the deers or whatever. Or whatever, all of it, none of it. But there is something, and I had this problem a lot, like tons, when I was commuting from Harlem to Sunset Park, I mean, what the fuck is work? Especially when you have to spend your entire mind just getting right just to get to work? I mean, sure, that is on me, in a sense, I didn't go to college, I didn't have a real smart brain that makes it easy for me to make money just by using the thing, but still, even the people that I know that have those brains, they still have to commute. I mean, I think about Abe Lincoln and his whole thing about walking four miles to go to school, as the lore would have you believe, that if you want it bad enough, America will reward you. But, I mean, right? Is that true? I mean, Abe Lincoln was a fast walker. He was tall, right? I mean, four miles is nothing. He could have done that walk in an hour. I mean, by that metric, he commuted an hour, twice a day. I mean, boohoohoo. If that is what makes an average American a dedicated and ambitious dude, I mean, we have about, I don't know, 100 million Abe Lincolns cruising around these days. I mean, and then what? He had to feed the farm and get up in the morning again? I mean, feeding the farm takes like 20 minutes, tops. I mean, I don't think he was milking cows and whatever, but even if he was, I mean, that guy maybe worked an hour a day, commuted two hours a day, and by the time he could afford it, he moved to the City. Working as a lawyer. Which, I mean, my point is, if working really hard to achieve the American Dream back in like 1845 meant going to school as well as a two hour commute and like an hour of extra work, I mean, adjusted for inflation, Abe Lincoln was kind of a lazy bastard. I mean, compared to the average worker these days.

I mean, all I am saying is that I don't even know what to say about anything. You make good money and because of the nature of Society, you feel kind of insane about it. Because of boot-strap bullshit. I mean, I don't even think $187,220 dollars is that much money. Yet here we are. I mean, I do things that nobody else I know can do. I mean, that is entirely untrue, but, I mean, between me and about 10 people I know, I mean, I could replace myself, but only with a few people. I mean, Scott would do a better job. Joe S. Jack. Naturally, my brother Luke. But he hired me to do the job. I mean, the Libertarian Jason, who would be horrified that I am making as much money as I am. Because for some reason he believes that company loyalty means something. Which, I mean, sometimes he makes $25 dollars an hour or something, doing the very most awful work in the world just to prove that. And I don't hold that against him, I just find it weird to be loyal to something that couldn't care less about what you contribute to their company. I mean, sure, he might be the last to get fired, but they will fire him the same as me once all the life boats are filled up. I mean, they might even say to him: "Nothing personal." And he will have to agree. But my point is; the boat doesn't need to start sinking before that happens. I mean, I may not be the best employee, but I can learn. And treat me good and I will treat you good. I mean, aside from the idea of working and committing to years long work, or even weeks long work, or even the idea of having a job that is consistent and needs to be gone to every single day, I mean, I could get on board with having a government job. Where work is slow but forever. I mean, my point, my actual point, is that this idea of time, that there is an amount of time, an amount of money dedicated to your time, is such a wild and debased way of thinking about the work force that, I mean, I think, I really do, that we are on the precipice of a revolution of thought with regards to how labor happens. I mean, if we really want, or need, a fluid and moveable work force, where guys like me can come and go, where one day you drive a car, the next you dig a hole, I mean, and we have to depend on wait staff and people to flip burgers or whatever, I mean, sure the Japanese can make robots to flip burgers, but so what? I mean, people still need to eat those burgers. I mean, what kind of really gets me is the Amazon workers. The delivery drivers for UPS. I mean, when the hell are these guys going to clue in? That the work force is so very dependent on them, I mean, it is like a tax strike. I mean, Society, American Society would break down the second the private businesses didn't have people delivering packages. And yet, those fuckers are still pissing in bottles. Making sure the packages go out. I mean, why is that? I don't get it.

I mean, my point, my entire point; is that we are in such a wild labor swing that I find it bizarre that we haven't all just put our shovels down and are just standing here, looking into the fields and saying: "You know, it would be a shame if those ears of corn just rot on the stalk. Don't you think?" I mean, do me a favor and give your delivery driver a tip. Like with money. Not because our system should work by giving workers like that extra money to make them work harder or whatever, but because they need to know that it is truly insane that they have to work so hard just to give the rest of us the things that we buy on the computer. I mean, I feel like there is a memo that never went out. To let people like these workers know that there are better options. I mean, I don't know how things got here. I mean, not the actual reason that things became the way they became. That is simple. The rich don't pay taxes. It really is that simple. That money would go to the poor. The poor would get educated. Then they wouldn't work for vampire companies like Amazon. I mean, what I don't understand is how come nobody has told them. I mean, I of course answered my own question, but, BUT! I mean, I am not a guy that thinks that education is the answer. It never was. Consider Lincoln. And his commute. I mean, that guy was as racist as they come. And that is not the point either, but it is good for context. I mean, if we take everything out of context and just look at facts, the kind of facts that are supposed to make things clear, I mean, if you are working for Amazon at the moment, you should be President in like two weeks. Because if all you need to do to get ahead in America is to work hard and put your hours in, I mean, I know a guy named Jony that should be in charge of everything.

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