[263] Screed City

[263]

09/09/2023 Saturday. Carboard Box. Garbage Room. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, that last screed was quite the bummer. I think I should try and get back to the laughs. You know, tickle a few funny bones. Have a little bit of a lark, et cetera, et al.

Grit and The Publisher came over for dinner. We had brats and Prosecco. I had to flame the brats on the stove-top which caused a smoky house. The smoke went upstairs and set off the fire alarms. I opened the front door to let the smoke out, but that didn't work, so I closed it and instead went upstairs and put the fire alarms under some blankets. We were going to eat out on the picnic table, but there were too many mosquitos. We packed everything up and moved it all back inside where apparently when I opened the door to let the smoke out all the mosquitos from outside came inside. Either that or all the smoke that went into the upstairs drove the mosquitos downstairs. Either way, we were assaulted. Poor Grit was driven crazy. She couldn't sit still and her eyes were swollen. Sitting at dinner we must have killed 20 of the fuckers. Me and Professor Curly and The Publisher tried to do some conversation, and Grit tried to watch something on the computer, but it was too much and we had to cut dinner short. We packed a few brats for Scott, who was driving up from Boston because he flew in to the airport there. Coming from Florida. From doing some ship work. But they couldn't stick around and wait. Vermont, man.

On the other hand, me and PC went to look at a new place to rent just up the hill from the New Landlord. The place is amazing. Smaller, sure, but it has a deck and a wood stove and a hot tub and vistas and the heating works and the person renting it seems conscientious and cares about things like her house. She is pregnant and moving to Florida for a couple years so she needs a short term tenant. All the bills are included in rent aside from electricity, which means the place costs the same as Beaver Haus but the heat works and I will have studio, a heated studio, and heat works. Did I mention the heat works? We saw the New Landlord in his driveway as we drove up there. Gave him the rent check that has been sitting in Beaver Haus for two weeks. He didn't say thanks or tell us he was working on getting the heat working. So, I won't lie, it will be a little bit of justice for us to move out on November 1st. Good luck renting a house with no heat, you prick. In Winter. In Vermont.

I am heading back to the City tomorrow. The plan is to stay there through the middle of October and then come back up here and pack and move our stuff to storage and then be done with Beaver Haus. It will be annoying for sure, but moving always sucks and the new place is furnished, so the next time we move, we won't have to pack, at least. And hopefully by then we will have enough money to buy our own house, you know, if Professor Curly keeps up the good work. 50/50 remember.

Her movie was just at Telluride. [To Hell You Ride] as the locals call it. They flew her out on a chartered flight. And somehow she couldn't get me on the plane. The jerk. She wanted me to fly to Denver, borrow Guy's car and drive the four hours down. Which, okay, fine, but you are the director of a very well received and now famous movie and this film festival is paying to fly you and Ethan fucking [Redacted] to Colorado and you don't think you can get your fiancé, ME, on the fucking plane? Your job has certain perks, you need to start acting like you know that. I didn't hitch my wagon to your coat tails for no reason, PC. 50/50! Your perks are my perks now! And don't get me started with the LA trip you just took. Here I am, risking my life like an astronaut while getting paid like a dishwasher, microwaving burritos on top of a coffee mug because the hotel doesn't have any plates and you're getting flown all over the world just to talk about your art and you have the nerve to ask me "Oh, you maybe wanted to go?" No, I wanted to sit on top of make shift scaffold 115 feet off the ground hooked into webbing in an over-sized fall-arrest while Jayboo, who is dangling from the rear of the J-wall putting bolts into fish clips he can't access, so I have to be his eyes on the other side and then he lets one loose and tells me that maybe I want to vacate for a moment to "Let it air out."

[Insert Loft Photo]

[Insert Microwave Burrito Photo]

I will say, the job was actually pretty fun. In an absurd way. That height. It was just too high. Things took forever. A six hour job took three 12 hour days and a forth half day. And it was efficient as it could possibly be. I mean, aside from Jimmy and Jayboo chain smoking in the back of the box truck. I went in there one time with them, I was looking for something or something. Not smoking, if that is what you were thinking. Seeing Jimmy alone can turn a guy off of smokes. But he is a big Trump dude. Like he has a Let's Go Brandon sticker on his truck. Jayboo too, but Jayboo is good faith. He listens to arguments. But Jimmy. Jimmy is something else. And it is funny. Like funny ha-ha. He is an okay guy. In ways that are, how do you say, um, he is likeable and charming and doesn't really give a fuck. He is in his 60's I think, a chain smoking 60's so who knows, he might be in his 50's, he is missing teeth and his face is a dried up catchers mitt covered in growths. And politics aside, in a way that politics can be aside with him, he is convinced, CONVINCED that if you are a democrat the law doesn't apply to you, so much so that he is considering becoming a democrat so he can commit some crimes and not be prosecuted. A thing I pushed him on. I asked him if he was planning on robbing a bank or something. And his response was that he hadn't voted in a presidential election in 40 years. And before that he always voted democrat. Implying he voted twice in the last two federal elections. Both times for Trump. Which is whatever. I don't really care. But it is pretty wild to live in a world where you see a rich, White, billionaire? getting in trouble for trying to do an insurrection and your take away is that democrats can commit all the crimes and the law doesn't apply to them? This same guy came up to the loft steel to help me and Jayboo and Brook and when we were about to put this 500 lb motor into place he said "Let's rig this nig." And it just reminded me of Wyoming. Or doing that racist job in Albany. Everything is fantasy-land. I know that Brook isn't racist and I know that Jayboo isn't racist, but they both looked at me. They knew it wasn't right. But because he didn't say "Let's rigger this [redacted.]" Nothing to see here.

And yeah, Jimmy is funny. And maybe Jimmy is a raging racist, I don't know. He edges. And I don't want him to be racist. But, as the bridesmaids say, the jury is out. I have been working for this company for what, five years now? And this is the first time I have worked with the infamous Jimmy, so I will give him some slack, but if he lives on the edge like that, at work, while working, it is not good, and Jayboo, Jayboo is great, he read KinderRinder [Italics] with his 16 year old daughter and they loved it and she even put a review on the computer that I keep meaning to ask him where it is, but his take on The Dukes of Hazzard was that the Duke boys weren't racist they were just rooting for the home team is why they had the Confederate flag on their car. Which, sure, maybe Bo and Luke Duke weren't racist, but that flag fucking is and there is no amount of convincing anyone that it isn't. Imagine the Austrian version of that. Where the East will rise again. And Beau and Luuke Duche have a swastika license plate. "They are just rooting for their home team." Yeah? Go on.

I mean, after checking out the new rental today me and Professor Curly drove to Roach Town. We had lunch at the one restaurant there. Oh shit! I meant to put a cabbage burger recipe in this thing for Guy's mom. Fuck. Instead I went on a rant about how my work-mates are possibly racist. Ugh. His mom grew a beautiful cabbage. Like super juicy. I'll include a picture.

[Insert Sally Cabbage Photo]

None of my pumpkins came up. They didn't even try. Too much rain. The Publisher was saying that her cucumbers taste like LaCroix water. Cuke flavored tubes of juice. At the restaurant the waitress asked me what I wanted to drink and I said diet Pepsi, and Professor Curly said diet Coke. Which forced the waitress to say "We only have Pepsi." And I said "She is just being a jerk." And the waitress did a haha and walked away. Later she came out and was wiping a table down next to us and said PC's joke was quite funny, actually. That nobody sells both Coke and Pepsi. It would be funny if they did. And PC was like, I thought I should just try.

But let's get back to the jokes. No way! I have made a joke like that exactly one million times. ONE MILLION. And PC gets away with it why? She gets away with it so much so that the waitress apologizes for not laughing at the joke in the first place? C'mon! That is insane! Maybe Jimmy is right? Maybe the big Dem can just flaunt the justice system...just joking. I am glad that that happened. It is validating. For me. It was funny. My jokes are funny. The healing has started. This idea that we are all so diametrically opposed is bullshit. Bad jokes are bad jokes all around. It only really matters who tells them and when. And when someone like Professor Curly can pull one off like that, it is a good sign. We are growing as a Society. Conversations are happening all around the country. Except now everyone is included. Maybe soon she will have to start a newsletter about how she can't catch a break and I will be riding around on chartered flights going places to talk about my art and I can ask her:

"Oh, I didn't think that was something you would want to do?" And she will be working up in the 100 foot loft, wearing a poorly fitted fall-arrest and Jayboo can fart on her and I can say, "Well, it's good you have work at least." And she can look at me with the same eyes I look at her with and she can say:

"Yeah, thanks." And then take her computer into the Garbage Room and write about it for three hours. Cycle of life, Professor Curly. 50/50.