[265] Screed City

[265]

09/29/2023 Friday. Kitchen Microwave. Queens House. Ridgewood, New York.

Okay, I take it back. I don't want a job anymore. It's too much. Every day, all day, and for what? A few fucking doll-hairs? And the dust, everywhere, all the time, dust. And the noise and the train. I mean, it is exhausting and confusing and boring and stressful and did I mention boring and stressful and exhausting? My body is confused. I can't sleep. And it's work, so much work. I don't know how anyone does it. I really don't. I hate it here and I want to leave.

And this new diet I am on. That's confusing my body too. A bowl of bran flakes for breakfast and a burrito for lunch. That's it. Well, that's it until right before bed when my body is screaming for food and I'm like, do I eat something now or wake up in the middle of the night starving and have to get out of bed and scarf something down while standing over the sink? Suddenly I'm a midnight snack kind of guy? Fuck that. But I don't know, I am back to eating crackers and cheese before bedtime and that is how I got into this mess in the first place. And the worst part of it all is that it is only maintenance. I'm not losing weight, the only thing I am losing is my mind. [wriggle fingers at head] You know they call it a diet because you "DI" and "ET" sucks.

I mean, the burritos are pretty awesome. I chunk some beef. Caramelize some onions. Do a nice fry-up as the wankers say. Boil some tiny potatoes. I got queso involved. Jalapeños. Diced onions. I mean, the thing is a walloper. I hurt my arm the other day when I was carrying my tote bag with me to work because it was so heavy. And I was like, Damn! That is some heavy burrito, Boi! And everyone on the train looked up from their phones and I was like, Check it, Yo! And I whipped that fucker out and you know what? Those fuckers nodded. I was like, Right? Right? And they were like, Yo, that shit is brick, Boi! And I was like, Boi! And some dude was like, Check out Chef-BOI!-R-Dee over here! And when I got to First avenue and was leaving the train car they were all chanting: Burrito Boi! Burrito Boi! Burrito Boi! True story.

But that's the thing though. Fucking America, man. When lunch rolls around I'm fucking starving so I run out to the deli to get like a soda pop, ya know. But I don't just get a soda pop, I get a tiny bag of chips too, and you know, I am standing in line and suddenly the candy bars are looking real tasty. So I go for the trifecta. Ya know, the American triple-team. 1,000 empty calories for $4.50. [four dollars and fifty cents] And the diet fucking sody pop doesn't even have one single calorie, somehow. It's like magic. But how come the chips and candy bars don't get that same magic? It's all junk anyway. How come some junk makes you fatter and some junk I don't know, only gives you cancer? I guess growing a tumor is technically putting on weight, so ya know, it is not entirely guilt free, but it's close.

I don't know, I am obsessed with aging at the moment. On one hand I don't care. I really don't. Life is so fucked-up and just weird that there is no way to put anything into actual perspective, tomorrow you might literally die, I went to work this morning and unbeknownst to me all of NYC was about to wash out into the ocean. Who knows? I was living here during 9/11, I could have been washing dishes at Windows On the World. When I do rigging work I am just this side of making a very stupid mistake that could kill me. But so what? It's not like I can do anything about it. But at the same time I don't want to get old, I don't want to get fat, I don't want to get sick. But I also want to enjoy my life. So it's funny to reach the age I am now. This in-between. Where my bad habits straddle my desire to remain healthy. And my body is like: Eat broccoli, and my body is also telling me to eat a bag of Flammin' Hot Doritos, drink a diet Coke and wash it down with a Reese's Peanut Butter Stick, which, mind you, is kind of the best candy bar going right now. Not too sweet and crunchy and delicious. I recommend. 10 out of 10 if I was to rate it.

Life is confusing. I don't hate work. I know I talk shit about it all the time. I think I even started this rant telling you that work sucks. I don't need work, I need money, and that is true. ABOLISH TURNSTILES. But work itself is nuts. Deadlines? Deadlines are nuts. I mean, I am pragmatic and practical, and I will tell you, I am not even nihilistic, but none of this shit matters. Nothing we are doing matters for one fucking second in the grand scheme of things, so it is crazy that I am losing sleep and feeling over-worked and under-paid, it is crazy that I starve myself in order to not get fat, it is crazy that in my free time I play Scrabble on my phone and look forward to doing it. I tried to get onto social media, but I have failed time and time again to take it serious, because it is PURE NONSENSE. Something I listened to today tried once again to convince me that social media was driving the conversation and therefore we should take it seriously. And I don't disagree that there is billions of people looking at things on their phones, but videos of pimples getting popped and 30 second clips of SpongeBob episodes are not changing the world. They just aren't. What we are looking at is not the town square, we are looking at the carnival coming to town. The internet is a farmers market. Everyone shilling out the bullshit is a Carny and we are all rubes falling for their tricks. Targets. Marks. And when we get sick of kettle corn and cotton candy and Ferris wheels, we all go home and the carnival just moves on to a new town.

But that is my point. How do you feel about being just one tiny spec of dust in the middle of an infinite space composed of infinite nothing-ness? Does it make you want to starve yourself and go to work? Lose sleep and get paid one half or one third of the amount of money you deserve to get paid because that is how the market works? Am I really out of my mind for thinking I should be compensated for my 25 years of experience? Oh, but wait, isn't time meaningless? Therefore my experience is meaningless too? Is it possible that that is the point of Capitalism? That WHOOPS, Capitalism leads right back to Feudalism because the worker is not actually anything, just a cog in the machine? That the people in charge deserve all the money and the people doing the actual work deserve none of it?

Didn't God already decide this for all of us?

I mean, sorry, I went a little sideways there, but it drives me crazy how stupid we all are, myself included. I'm the worst. I don't fucking care. I am a HUGE believer that shit will work out in the end, I'm a fucking modern Charlie Brown. I even took a test yesterday to prove it. And guess who Professor Curly was? Lucy. Typical.

But this fucking mustache, man. I think it's days are numbered. It's been sucking up my hot cocoa for weeks now. I mean, it looks great and makes me younger looking, but nobody can hide the age of beef jerky. Package that shit all you want, but facts are facts. Anyway. Thanks for coming out. Thanks for buying books. There is booze on that table and if anyone wants one last mustache ride, I will be in the bathroom.

Note: This is the transcript for the reading on Sunday. Happy Birthday, Scott! Hope your mustache is doing great!

[Insert Allen Ginsburg Christmas]