[198] Screed City

[198]

09/24/2022 Saturday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Farmers Market Week Seventeen:

An odd one today. In a sense. I mean, it was mostly normal, but not. I mean, I don't know what I mean, maybe I can explain. I mean, the day started just fine. I woke up at 5a. Forced myself out of bed. I had worn night clothes to sleep in. Meaning my socks, t-shirt and long johns. It was cold last night. I refuse to turn the heat on before October 1st. REFUSE. I tell ya. I mean, I got into bed naked, and then reconsidered, so I got back out and put my night clothes on. I mean, I assumed I would be getting up at one point to use the bathroom. And I really didn't feel like freezing my shrinking buns off. Shrinking because I am still losing weight. And the one good thing about being rotund was finally having an ass after 45 years on this planet, but alas, no good deed goes unpunished. ATBMS.

I mean, so I was almost fully clothed when I got up. I all had to do was put my pants on and my hoodie and my slippers. I had to turn the light on to find the slippers, which blinded the hell out of me. I mean, Professor Curly bought a lamp when she was here because she took the other one to the City with her. And since I never use the thing unless it is there and working, she was frustrated with the lack of lighting in the bedroom. I mean, once again I will say it, the only time I ever find myself in the bedroom is when I am going to sleep or waking up. I mean, plus the sleeping, natch. I mean, I am not complaining that there is a working lamp now, I am just saying that one person's problem is another person's non-issue. Politics, my friend, politics. I mean, I went downstairs. Turned the house lights on. Turned the burner on under the sausages I had floating around. Let those cook for a while. Tested the coldness from the Cubby Bubbys. Last night I had taken them out of the freezer. At 7:30p instead of the usual 9p. I mean, I did this because it was so cold in the house. And I had un-froze a thing of milk the night before and it was still cold in the morning. I mean, if a 1/8th of a 1/2 gallon of milk takes that long to un-freeze, the Cubby Bubbys for sure needed more time. I mean, I should have got them out at 6p like I originally thought I should have. But I didn't. And they seemed still frozen. I mean, not all of them, but some of them. The middle ones. Not entirely frozen, but frozen enough to make me nervous. And the solution was going to be to re-heat them longer, but sadly I did not account for that. I mean, I started the oven early and I got an extra five minutes of re-heating, but I needed at least and extra 10 minutes, I mean, whatever, I was nervous and I had made some bad choices, and now those roosters had come home to crow, ATBMS.

I mean, I must have not felt that rushed about it because instead of immediately getting to work I instead ate a sausage with onions on a roll. With coffee and newly thawed milk. I mean, I looked at things and putted around as well. I mean, I started the oven at 5:20a. I should have started it the second I understood the Cubby Bubbys were still very cold, but I didn't and that is all there is to say about it. I mean, get off my jock! I fucked up, let it go!

I mean, I started some water boiling. Started the Saturday morning comedy politics thing. Which is back in action pretty good. But for some reason the quality has gone down. The host does this sometimes. He is the kind of person that thinks everything he does is hilarious, so he doesn't really self-censor, I mean, a thing I can appreciate, but then again he is so insecure that when he does not such a good job it really hurts his feelings, So next week should be better. This week, not so much. I ended up fast-forwarding through two sections because they were just masturbation. And not funny masturbation where the guy gets an eyeful of jizm or something, but just yanking at a wimpy worm while watching the Shopping Networks new bras promo. Sorry, dumb joke. But that is a scene from Moke [Italics] that I wrote recently. You know? Character development. Everyone knows that in order to get into the mind of any character you have to know what he does when he is whacking off. Take an MFA from Columbia for once. Then you would know that too. Just joking, that school just got knocked off the top 10 list of best universities. Or colleges or whatever. I mean, I laughed when I saw that. About fucking time! Talk about a bill of fucking goods.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, never-mind. I mean, I put the first batch of Cubby Bubbys in the oven. Then I set the timer for 30 minutes instead of the usual 20 minutes. And that felt kind of luxurious to have 30 minutes to fuck around instead of only 20, but about halfway through I realized I was an idiot. I didn't actually have more time, I just only had more time to wait for the things to come out. And then I did the math and realized that I couldn't keep that up, otherwise I would be leaving 30 minutes late. So I adjusted the timer to between 20 and 25 minutes. Thinking I would hedge at some point. The first batch would get an extra hour of heating in the chafing dish. The second batch and extra 20 minutes. I mean, I was kind of winging it at this point now. My entire morning suddenly confused. I mean, I have fine honed this entire procedure. Not this year, but last year. I mean, it is a thing that at some point in the past I put a great deal of thought into. Now, not so much, so it was a little startling to now have to think on my feet, and I was not doing a very good job of it.

I mean, yesterday we poured concrete at the Compound. And, I mean, it was kind of a, how do you say, a mess? I mean, the planning and actuating was spot on. Scott did a great job with logistics. It's just that the concrete showed up two hours late and then from there it became more and more complicated. I mean, a one hour pour became a seven hour adventure. I mean, normally I bake on Fridays is the reason I bring this up. And I think, if I remember right, the whole reason I learned how to freeze the Cubby Bubbys in the first place, aside from the fact that I refuse, REFUSE to get up at 2a to make baked goods for fickle tourists on a Saturday, is that we had to do some pours last Summer that changed the Cubby Bubby Bake Day. I mean, I can hear Professor Curly sigh just by using the phrase; Bake Day. But that is what it is. A day to bake. I mean, it's work. C'mon! Give the singer some! I mean, say what you will about the music of the Doors. And if you have been reading my writing for any length of time you will know my position about this. Which is basically: The Doors, maybe not the best band in the world, but they had some pretty good music, if that is your taste, but their live work is up in the top five as far as I am concerned. They were a fantastic live band. And there is that one concert where Jim [Morrison] is complaining to the audience because they are being too loud and he says: "Hey, c'mon, give the singer some." Meaning, shut up so I can talk. And, I mean, irony is dead, the dude is complaining through a microphone to thousands and thousands of people that he can't catch a break. I mean, I think it is hilarious.

I mean, where was I? Oh, my system was breaking down because I needed to think on my feet and since I have discovered that I a can gold brick myself, I didn't know how to pivot because instead of baking yesterday, I poured concrete at the Compound and now my Cubby Bubbys were cold and I was too stupid to find any new solution that didn't involve me just doing the same old thing. And as such, I just did the same old thing, hoping for good results that I knew I wouldn't get. I mean, I did the same old normal. I showered and got dressed in my cute Cubby Bubby outfit. Looking skinny and handsome. I mean, I actually did look handsome. I had combed my hair back after the shower and I looked in the full body mirror after I dressed. I mean, I may be older now, but I clean up nice. Still. I mean, a face like a shovel and a dick like a sledge. ATBMS. And they ALL say that. Because, I mean, you know what I mean, right?

I mean, at some point I just stopped caring. About the state of the Cubby Bubbys. They would be what they were. There was literally nothing else I could do about it. I mean, aside from just being late today, and, I mean, that was an option, but I didn't take that option, I pushed forward like per-usual and went outside and got yelled at by the idiot goats. I mean, I threw sticks at them to get them to shut up, but they persisted. And I persisted. And they persisted. I mean, one of these days I am going to do a riff on Animal Farm [Italics] with just goats. Because they are more like humans than I give them credit for. OR, maybe that is why I find them so annoying. Because they are exactly like humans. Loud, dumb, self-interested, and annoying. But also seemingly helpless, but at the same time living in an entire field of food. And because of the way society works, they think all their problems are because I am not feeding them every time I go outside, yet, when it is even slightly rainy outside, they won't eat the damn food I give them. I mean, yesterday it was misting in the morning when I left and I almost didn't feed them, because there is no point if it is raining. Wasted food. But then the sun came out. And guess what happened? I mean, I fed them and the fuckers didn't eat the food because after I put food in the bowls the mist came back. I mean, I don't know what the solution is, but as I find it, I mean, I guess it is just a guilt game of attrition. I will need to do a guilt to annoyance ratio analysis. If I don't feel guilty enough to not feed them, then they don't get fed. Which seems brutal, but what else can I do? They are too stupid and stubborn to find their own way in the world, right?

I mean, whatever. I fed them this morning because it was dry. And I did find myself annoyed by it, mainly because I had to wash my hands afterwards, but that is no reason not to feed them, even if they are jerks. But as I was outside doing things I noticed a stiff breeze floating around. I mean, it made me sigh. Cold is fine. Rainy is fine. But wind, I mean, chafing dishes and rain are not a great combo. They are not chocolate and peanut butter, ATBMS.

I mean, in the end I was in Junior Mint by 7:05a. The heater blaring. The maybe warm enough Cubby Bubbys nestled silently in the seats. I was good to go. I did a mental check list. I had everything. The chafing dishes, the hard goods, the soft goods, the tables, the penguin, the bucket of bleach, the FOOD sign, the sandwich board, the banner. I mean, I had it all. I even had a good extra jacket to keep me warm. Coffee and water. My phone and my wallet. I hit the skids and said see ya later, suckers to the idiot goats.

I mean, the drive to Waitsfield was uneventful. Somebody finally picked up the black metal bucket of who the hell knows what, that was sitting next to the highway for the last two weeks. I mean, I almost put a post on Front Porch Forum about it titled: Black Bucket:

"Does anyone know what that black metal bucket is on the side of the road between Granville and Warren? I mean, I would maybe pick it up, but maybe not? Is there someone to call about it?"

I mean, I didn't and it got picked up. So maybe wishful thinking is a thing? Or, I mean, ignore something long enough and someone else will deal with it, is really what happened. I mean, who knows? Maybe it was something worth money? Like a five gallon bucket of crude oil. I mean, with oil prices these days, I could have made $20 bucks selling the thing to the BP in Middlebury. Because that is how things work, right?

I mean, joking aside, I got to the market just fine. I took the stuff out that I needed to take out. Set up a table. Put some soft goods on it. Put the chafing dishes on the soft goods. And lit the Liquid Heat. I mean, it was then that I really noticed the wind. And, I mean, frankly, this made me more nervous than the nearly frozen Cubby Bubbys did. Because it was one thing to have cool Cubby Bubbys on the road, it was another thing entirely to not have the next hour and a half to keep heating them. I mean, I tried to make a wind barrier, but the things I had to do this were insufficient. I mean, I just didn't have the tools I needed. So, I mean, like earlier, my inability to pivot when needed was fucking with me again. I should have stopped what I was doing and gone directly to the Shaw's to buy some tin foil to make wind blockers, but I didn't, I instead ignored the problem until I was nearly set up entirely. Then, and only then, did it really occur to me that there was an actual problem that couldn't be ignored. I mean, I ran over to the Shaw's. Got inside. I must have looked harried because there was this new guy that said:

"Can I help you find something?" I was in the baking aisle.

I said: "Tin foil! I mean, I assumed it would be in the baking aisle, but..."

He said: "Oh, over here." He wasn't exactly sure, he was new, but he did find the aisle for me. I thanked him. Took a good look around. Ended up buying the thick and juicy tin foil that they offered. Not the wimpy shit. The thin and useless bullshit. I mean, it cost nearly $6 dollars, but it was worth it. I mean, the guy checked me out. He was very nice. I thank him a bunch. Then I jogged back to the farmers market. And, I mean, things were not getting better, weather-wise, they were getting worse. The wind was sticking around. I mean, I even lit my extra things of Canned Heat. I mean, I spent a great amount of time trying to get the Cubby Bubbys up to temperature. I mean, but also, some dude came by and ordered a Breakfast Bubby at like 8:37a. He said:

"You open? Can I buy some of your food? I came by here looking for breakfast, but I don't know when the thing opens."

I said: "Sure! I mean, the thing doesn't open until nine."

He said: "Oh, really? Can I still buy something?" I mean, I found that hilarious. That he thought it was illegal to buy a baked good before the market opened, but to each their own, ATBMS.

I mean, last week I didn't sell a single Bubby until 9:40a. And aside from the Hammy Bubbys getting skunked, basically, I had a good run. But for somebody to buy a Breakfast Bubby that early, and the cold air and the wind, I mean, I was feeling pretty good about it. Even though I was afraid the things would be cold. I mean, I felt his Breakfast Bubby before I sold it to him. And it did seem warm enough. It was mostly the Veggie Bubbys and the Taco Bubbys that I was worried about. For some reason the Cubby Bubbys proper and the Breakfast Bubbys seemed to have come to heat. ATBMS.

I mean, I fought the wind as best as I could. Using the extra Canned Heat. Getting the bottoms of the chafing dishes real hot. So hot that at one point I touched the one of the things and yelped. Causing people to look over at me. And then I said: "Sorry! It was hot!" And them yelling back: "I guess so!" But then the morning went on. And I was ready for things. And people started showing up. And I was selling. I mean, I kept selling. There were not that many people, but business was good. And it stayed good. People were buying more than just one-offs. Two, three at a time. I mean, I stood there fretting about the temperature of the things, but at the same time they were flying out of the chafing dishes. Like at an alarming rate. I thought for sure I would sell out by 11a. But that didn't happen. Much like last week, there was a huge rush and then things just dropped off. For no reason at all. There was zero reason. I mean, by that time I was quite okay with whatever was going to happen. I had sold 45 of the things. 15 to go. And I still had two hours. The cider guy came around. Sold $10 and $16 dollar glass jars of pressed apples juice to the tamale ladies. Which, I mean, that made me feel really gross. Talk about price gouging. Or not, I don't know. Maybe 16 oz of apple juice is worth $10 dollars? I mean, apples, fucking apples, I mean, apples? Am I right? I don't get the apple obsession at all. Cider, maybe, hard cider, yes, but apples themselves? Why eat something that just makes you more hungry? I mean, I said to the Putin of Gluten when he offered me an apple slice:

"If I wanted to eat something that just made me more hungry I would eat a tape worm, at least that way I would get some protein."

Then he said: "I mean, wouldn't that mean the worm is dead? I guess if you got the eggs in your body." Then he actually thought about it. "Yeah, I guess you could eat a worm and just get the eggs." I mean, whatever. The guy made me a spoon holder for the stove top. Which was and is awesome. I mean, I asked for it, but I won't lie, he is damn good with the wood. And because of how things worked out this week I didn't have a GF Bubby for him, so instead of feeling grateful, I felt really guilty about that. Butwhatever, the dude got all of Donkey [Italics] serial for free, so he can suck it. Shit, I should remind him of that. The jerk.

But the wind kept coming. And I kept selling. Even though it was a thin market. I mean, there were bursts of people, but the market was a slow day. And then there were long minutes where I sold nothing. And then someone would come by and say:

"These are the things I have been hearing about, give me two Cubby Bubbys and a Breakfast Bubby." Or whatever. I mean, it was weird. And sadly, or not sadly, but I mean, fuck, I could do this! Give me 10 years in the future, or 10 years in the past, and I would own this shit. I mean, that alone makes me reconsider my thinking on the matter. I mean, why can't I just be content? That is it. That is the novel that I will write, right before giving up on anything artful and just accepting that I am merely a businessman making things that people eat. I mean, I thought it would be a book entitled: I Would Rather Starve [Italics.] I mean, it would be a treatise on being in the Working Class, but it would sum it all up. Because the problem with being Working Class isn't that you have to work for money, as much as the Right would love, love, love, I mean, not just the Right, but Corporate America, and probably 65% of Americans, who think poor people are dumb and lazy and that is proved because they are poor, which, FUCK YOU, if poor people were dumb or lazy they would just die, and as much as the powers that be make it nearly impossible to live for poor people, they still seem to persist, I mean, I am pretty sure that is not an accident. I mean, working at a call center for $4 dollars an hour selling bullshit to pensioners is still a thing, right? I mean, put a group of people over a barrel, and you can get them to do basically anything, I mean, spread your cheeks you idiot, you don't like it? Get a better job. But wait, what job? How is this better? I don't know, leave me alone, I have stock prices to deal with. But?

I mean, I won't go into it, but my point is: Stop thinking people are stupid and lazy for being poor. It is both racist and un-true. If you have never been poor, you don't know shit. Accept that and move on. There is no "Nobody wants to work in America," happening. We just have spent the last 40 years abusing the work force so badly that there is no difference between working at McDonald's and working at Hannaford's or the Deli down the street. Nobody wants to work only means that everyone is sick of being abused and the amount of money to be made makes exactly zero difference between living and dying. It is a very simple equation. All of us, down here, we have no choice. So why work the late shift at Wendy's to give drunk assholes square hamburgers when we can work the day shift at Home Goods? it is all the same lousy, underpaying job. And if I can't afford my rent anyway, why bother taking out a loan to buy a car? I mean, I can't get a house loan, I can get a college loan, but how well has that worked out for the millions of people that got hoodwinked into that 10-20 years ago? Paying off crappy loans in their 40's-50's? While working at Starbucks? Fuck that. If I have to be poor anyway, why fucking bother? I mean, IT IS NOT A MYSTERY. And it is not because nobody wants to work anymore. I mean, what else are you going to do?

I mean, Mikell, Sister Megan's aunt said as much. And she seems like a staunch conservative, who actually believes in the American Dream, somebody that worked her fucking ass off, the person that inspired the Cubby Bubby in the first place. She said it. She said:

"I mean, what else are you going to do with your day?"

And it is true! Life needs meaning. And nobody, I mean, of course there are some people. I mean, I would love to never have to work another day in my life, but I write, and I make art, and I have ideas, but so what? We all have passions, wouldn't it be better to do your hobbies then to go to work for someone else? But so what? It's not like everyone wants to just do nothing and get a check in the mail. I mean, let me rephrase that, it's not like there is a big pile of money that poor people just dip their golden spoons into and can pay their rent and grocery bills with. I mean, if you are poor and are getting money from the Government, motherfucker, that is a full-time fucking job. And, maybe it is because the Right make it so hard? But I doubt it. It is Society, man. And you, me, everyone we know, I mean, we are living life and just going about our business, there is no secret scam, no under-lamentation of poor people just weighing us down. No ballast of impoverished bums, waiting for a hand-out. Not in the least. I mean, think about that. Do you really think there is just a cabal of lazy assholes trying to game the system so they never have to work? I mean, if it is true, more power to them! Because they have WAY more energy than I do. Because just going to work is a very simple process. You go to work. You get paid. Then you have money. I mean, the amount of schemes, the ins and outs of schemes, the daily grind of pretending. I mean, my point is, if this is what being lazy looks like, we have some of the most ambitious and enterprising motherfuckers the world has ever created.

All I am saying is that the problem is structural. Not individually based. And the less we thing of being poor as a problem of being lazy or un-willing to work the better. Because that is just not true. And the real problem we are faced with is the fact that we have abandoned any sense of longevity, any sense of the future, for short-term profits on the back of disposable workers that are slowly waking up to the fact that they are fucked. And no amount of debt or college education is going to save them from the hell that Corporate Capitalist American Neo-Liberalism has wrought. And good for them. I mean, drop out. Be poor. I plan to write a book about it called: I Would Rather Starve [Italics.] But we still have to vote. So, drop out in the work force, just not in the voting bloc.

Fuck! What was my point? See, this is the problem with screeds. I mean, we, meaning Scott, rented a power screed for the concrete pour. And it was fantastic. Gave me a lot of ideas about screeding. I mean, just barrel through and vibrate your point. Get a couple of boobs to fill in the gaps. Shovel shit where it is needed.

I mean, to tie it all together. The day was weird. The wind was weird. And cold. And annoying. I sold out. Just by the end. I was hoping I wouldn't. Because I wanted a Taco Bubby. For lunch. But, I mean, to be jealous of your own customer. I mean, that was it. I packed up real good. Got Junior Mint. Had to fight the fellow Boothers about parking space. I mean, people try to be nice, but they have their own self-interest in mind. I mean, maybe I will do the book about the goats and combine it with the farmers market. I mean, it all seems pretty prescient. Butwhatever. I had to go to the gas station to get something to eat after the market. Because I had no Bubbys left. I mean, the long line and the crap food, just more proof that people are up to no good. That maybe, just MAYBE, it is a good thing to force things back into an idea that we don't always need exactly everything that we maybe desire at our fingertips at all times. I mean, maybe Amazon is not good? For Society? I mean, it is possible that next day shipping doesn't actually help me? I mean, a few days later and maybe people don't have to piss in water bottles might be okay with me? I mean, maybe infinite growth at the expense of the Earth we live on, may, just maybe, not be the best way to go? That having a super-class of "Investors," controlling the economy may not be healthy for the average person? I mean, when I hear NPR complain that the American Dollar is too strong, because it is the highest it has been in decades, higher than the Euro, that is bad because American businesses need the dollar to be wimpy so they can off-shore goods and make money on the differential, I mean, something about that, combined with being told I am lazy and don't want to work and nobody can get workers anymore, I mean, I am just saying, when the person who actually addresses this problem is not a Bernie Sanders, but a Donald Trump, I mean, things DO NOT END WELL.

I mean:

[Insert Farmers Market Photos]