[217] Screed City

[217]

01/01/2023 Saturday. Basement Cardboard Box. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, we did it! It's a new year! Whatever that means. I mean, I dreamed of murdering a couple people last night, and then I spent the rest of the dream trying to cover up the crime, then in the end I had to come clean, and I felt great about it. I mean, the dream is about laying to rest old habits that are harmful, and, I mean, I guess the timing couldn't be more perfect, butwhatever, don't make promises in the heat of the moment as the bridesmaids say, because they are barely worth the...blah, blah, blah, et cetera, et al.

But old habits die hard, and I do think it is time for new habits, I mean, the same old habits I keep trying to get in touch with, but, hey, why not? Why not try again this year, right? I mean, we had a good night tonight. Professor Curly is in town, G is in town, Scott and the Publisher and Grit came over, Sam. We had fondue. I made baguettes, pork sliders, there was cheese trays with crackers and baby carrots and celery, Prosecco. Ticklers even. The fondue was steak fondue in frying oil, strawberries in chocolate. I mean, we played ring around the flamingo. Talked about down-town theater. I mean, it started raining just now. The huge snow storm that was supposed to put an end to the East, is now turning into a heatwave, the maple trees are producing sap already, three months in advance, the larger sugar operations are operating already. There is worry there won't even be a sugar season this year. And the poor ski resorts. I mean, that doesn't hurt my feelings too bad, those fuckers need to go out of business if you ask me, but, I mean, I was telling Professor Curly; The word is cheeks, spread the word, just joking, I was telling Professor Curly, There are people that like skiing and they love it, and there are people that don't like skiing, and they hate it. I mean, sure, tourism is good for business and all, but for whom? And to whom? I mean, it is a little like hoping for a banner crop of cotton in the slave owning South. Sure, people benefit and it helps the local economy, but at what price?

I mean, I came down to the basement because I had a few ideas I wanted to jot down, is that how you write that? Jot down? What is jot, so weird, I don't think I have ever written those words before, only said them, but I had some thinking I was going to do real quick, but then when I got here I realized those thoughts had evaporated, because of course, hours of nursing Ticklers and eating meats and talking, and talking, and talking, it kind of wipes the mind clean, but I did have some thoughts, but not about anything other than what I have been writing lately, and those thoughts need more focus than I have at the moment, so fuck it, make a quick end run around the new year and say some positive things for the future, I guess, not that I have been particularly positive up until now, but who knows? Things can change, right?

I mean, I learned today that Mitch Hedberg is a far superior comedian than that Canadian dude, what is his name? Stephen Wright, I mean, his joke about the broken mirror and his lawyer getting him five years instead of seven, that is a good joke, but as far as one-liners are concerned, I mean, I haven't slept for ten days, because that would be too long. I mean, you had to be there, but still.

I mean, I don't know, I am standing in a basement, a cellar even, wearing my fingerless gloves, standing next to the boiler, the bane of my existence, just pumping money out of my wallet into the pipes, I have a rogue mouse that I knew was hanging around, but I don't know where he is hiding at, I mean, he tried to drag some poison back to his hide out last night, but he didn't get very far, and now his blood must be like water, I mean, he is probably freaking out a bit, because he can't get into the kitchen, but his body must feel weird, and there is no one else around, the traps and poison in the garbage room haven't been touched in days and days, I mean, aside from when Professor Curly went out there and nearly got her toes snapped off, which created a huge mystery for me until I understood what happened, I mean, she told me what happened, and once she told me what happened it all made sense, I mean, she didn't know the traps were there and then she set them off when she took some trash out, but what was confusing was the traps didn't have the peanut butter eaten off of them, so when I thought I was dealing with a critter, I was merely dealing with a wild redhead on the loose. And those traps are bad news for anyone’s toes! I mean, they are rat traps! We are lucky nothing horrible happened!

Anyway, I don't know, I guess I just came down here to send out an end of the year message, something real positive and uplifting, like, I don't know, follow your dreams, don't let your meat loaf, stay cool, don't change, work hard and believe in yourself and all of your dreams will come true, get a job, you lazy bum, nobody wants to work anymore, stay in school, eat the rich, play hard, surfs up, the early bird gets the worm, join the army if you fail, look both ways, brush your teeth, buy crypto, wipe both ways, if something gets in your way, turn, let's eat grandma, let's eat, grandma, whistle Dixie, don't whistle Dixie, that is racist, Watergate sucks, who beefed?

I mean, standing under the bleachers at St Ann’s Warehouse with Iver and Bick and Jim, somebody let one loose, and Bick said; Who beefed? I mean, we all knew it was Jim, but was it? WAS IT? It was Jim, Jim beefed.

HAPPY NEU YEAR

[Insert I Don't Want To Go Down Into The Basement]