[285] Screed City
[285]
05/23/2024 Thursday. Papers box. Crisis Inc Hq. Ridgewood, Brooklyn.
Work, work, work, work, et cetera. Plus more work. Plus what else is there to do anymore but work? I stopped at the deli the other day to buy something, I cant remember what, I think it was corporate Ticklers, but I am not entirely certain. Time has no meaning any more because I am either working, going to work, coming home from work or trying to get some sleep so I am fresh for work tomorrow. And writing, naturally, the one thing, the whole reason I have branded myself a working class writer is because I refuse to not write, even if I am exhausted, although, yesterday I was so exhausted that I went to sleep at 8p and was so tired about it I almost didnt brush my teeth before bed if that tells you anything. But the deli, but this deli by our apartment, this guy, I know I have mentioned him before, or maybe the last time I did a Screed I mentioned him, he was the guy that said:
"Everyone complains too much."
So I said: "What else are you going to do?"
And then he said: "Good point."
That guy. He sits around all day smoking cigarettes and waiting for people to come into his deli to buy overpriced and outdated things. My guess is that the only things he actually sells is cigarettes, booze and soda pops. Maybe coffee, the Cafe Bustello stuff and toilet paper and paper towels. He seems so over it. Over everything. Like he is just waiting around to die like Townes Van Sandt bragged about all those years ago. Although, he does seem to have a sense of humor. And his deli is right under the train stop, so who knows? Maybe he is a secret millionaire, I dont know, but if he is, he is a miserable millionaire. In my mind something very dark happened to him years ago that changed his world view, but it is probably more simple than that. He probably just thought owning a deli would be a good business and over time, when he realized that his job would just be sitting around all day dealing with jerks who complain too much, he drifted off into the ether with his mind and sits there smoking in some Zen state, working, never being forced to interact with anyone, really, until a hilarious dude like me shows up and tells him that people have every god damn right to complain because this is America, mother fucker! Or, because this is America, complaining is kind of the only thing we can do.
But my guess, if I had to guess anything, is that he is the kind of person that does not look at work as an hourly thing. My guess is that most people dont see work as an hourly thing. Well, unless you work in service or are paid by the hour or are poor and have navigate child care or you are paying rent or you have to get up earlier than you want to or you are shocked by your phone bill every month or you have to worry about how much money you spend at the grocery store or have to worry about putting gas in your car or whether or not you can afford to not make your lunch that day, or if you brace yourself every time you check your bank account, I mean, well, okay, I think I may have to rephrase that statement, sitting around smoking in a deli all day being grumpy about society is one way to work, it is probably the best way to work, when I think about working and what working is, that is probably the best work for sure. My guess is the guy gets up when he gets up, does what he does before work, walks a couple blocks to the deli, does a little exercise moving a box or two from this place to the next, hangs around for a bit, outside sweeping the sidewalk or something, and then goes back inside, sits down in his chair, lights a smoke and talks to the universe for ten hours and then he goes home.
Today I woke up at six thirty because I needed to buy some floss and move Junior Mint. Yesterday we worked in New Jersey installing this thing for this guy at this marina place that was very odd and strange. I was so exhausted when I got home last night, like I said, I went to bed at 8p. Using the last of my floss. And I dont know if I told you this or not, but I am having issues with my gums. Just joking, of course, but I heard this joke just the other day about gums:
This boy is like getting interested in girls and stuff. He is like a teenager. One day he gets a girlfriend or something, and he doesnt know what to do about it so his dad or mom or somebody is trying to keep him from having sex so they tell him to stay away from the vagina because there are teeth down there and they will bite your dick off. Well, the boy meets a girl at like the soda shop and she likes him and he likes her and later they go for an afternoon drive to the smooching place and he parks the car and they start to smooch and the girl is like turned on and stuff and keeps trying to put his hand down her pants. He is turned on too, but he remembers his moms or his dads warning about vaginas with teeth that will bite his dick off so he refuses to put his hands down her pants and she is all like:
"What the hell, man? How come you wont put your hands down my pants and stuff?"
"Well, because your crotch is going to bite my fingers off."
"What? How is my crotch going to bite your fingers off?"
"Because I heard vaginas have teeth."
"Thats crazy! Vaginas dont have teeth! Look!" She pulls her pants down so he can look. The boy goes down and takes a closer look. He comes back up. "See?" she says.
"What do you mean, see? Of course you dont have teeth, your gums are terrible!"
After buying the floss I stopped in the grocery store to buy some rabbit pellets and some milk and some ground beef and some tortillas and limes and jalepenos. I went back to the apartment and cooked up the ground beef and heated up some black beans. Professor Curly is in Ireland at the moment, so there was no sassy commentary. Just me and the beef and the beans. I had already taken a shower and was wearing clean clothes. The weather in The City has been kind of lousy, very hot, sadly, instead of a slow slide from winter into summer there is a sudden summer heat wave. It was hot when I was out on the town, but not so hot that I didnt want to walk to work. Where we have been working, aside from New Jersey, is in Bushwick, a forty minute walk, or a thirty minute train ride. I cooked the beef and made a burrito, wrapped it in tinfoil and threw it in the LIDL bag I got from down south.
I flossed like the wind and had a moment where I was trying to decide to walk or not walk, to take the train and play word games on my phone or walk along the side of the cemetery and into the dirtiest part of industrial Brooklyn where they pay graffiti artists to paint walls. Oddly enough, when I turned onto Flushing a graffiti artist was setting up to paint a wall as I looked towards the city and saw a humongous rain cloud approaching. I had looked at the weather and the weather said it would be good until around noon, but it was not noon, and the weather was not good. I felt a drop at first, then a second one, then a third. Big heavy, thrusting drops of rain. As a man of understanding, I did a logical thing, I took my phone and my wallet out of my pocket, and put them in the LIDL bag, I took the button ups shirt I was wearing off and dropped it into the bag as well. I wadded the top over itself like a brown paper lunch bag to keep the rain from getting in, hoping it wouldnt start pouring.
It started pouring.
I dont know, rain. The funny thing about rain is that is kind of sucks. I mean, I love it, I think about it all the time. It is kind of unpleasant. If you are stuck in it. When you are inside, listening to, what is it, the dulcet tones of the rain? NPR playing sweet jazz, cruising up and down West River Road, feeling groovy or whatever? But when you get caught in a real downpour? It sucks getting wet. And when its windy too?
I asked for the news, not the weather, right?
And when I got to work, there was a station of cardboard on the floor. I stood on the cardboard, dripping, sluicing, I tore off my blue teeshirt that said:
Two Reasons I dont trust you:
1. I dont know you
2. I know you
The lady working on the ladder fainted and fell off. My golden wet locks flapping against my shoulders. I was able to run over and catch her just in time. I told her:
"Now is not the time for love making, we have work to do!"
She fainted again,
[insert SE7EN thing and statue of liberty]
