[289] Screed City

[289]

06/15/2024 Saturday. Stack of Reams of Paper on the Kitchen Island. The Chalet. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Note: This is going to be an original recipe extra crispy Screed City. Not only am I in Vermont, but it is Saturday and I went to the Farmers Market. Hope you enjoy.

I got in yesterday. I spent all day yesterday driving. Eight and a half hours of back roads from Buffalo, New York to Granville, Vermont. I stopped twice. Once to get a meat puck and once to get gas. Oddly, not driving on the interstate and adding an extra two hours to the trip made all the difference. I drove by a lake and through a national forest. I saw about a million American flags. Only one upside down. Just a few, "Fuck Your Feelings" flags. The drive was pleasant and I didnt get bored once. I even was able to have some uninterrupted thinking about a new project I am working on. Its a fanciful tale about a man named Loadie and his trusty sidekick, Billy the Skid. It starts with a car crash and somehow goes downhill from there. I used the natural tweakiness of driving for eight and a half hours straight to make some notes last night when I got in.

It has been a whirlwind of work since mid May. I mean, I worked a doubler on Thursday. Got up at 5a, got to work by 7a. Worked until 3:30p. Drove two and half hours to Buffalo then worked until 10p. But before that it was Troy, Chicago, Troy, Dallas, LA and back to Troy. Plus all the work in Bushwick with Jacky and Robby and Jordy and Matty. I mean, I have a dank wallet at the moment, but at what cost? Its good though, I have about a million projects that need editing and now I can pay Jess to do about half a million of them. Tomorrow, always tomorrow, I will organize and start doing the prep work. I am thinking by this Fall I will be able to publish a few things.

This morning was nice. I left the sliding doors open all night last night and woke up to a very cool chalet. It is currently 51F here in Lower Granville. It barely got up into the mid 60's today! I like it. That is my kind of Summer weather. Of course it is going to be in the 90's starting Monday, but what can you do? Professor Curly's birthday is on Wednesday. Pray for her, she got covid again. This time for real. And how did she get it, you ask? The last time I was with her we were standing in front of the Beverly Hillshire waiting for a car that HBO sent to take her to the airport. There was a misunderstanding so the car was late. I needed to get to LAX before she did, so she used her computer thing to get me a car because I was worried about missing my flight. Well, as I was waiting for my plane, having just eaten a $15 sandwich that was making me sick, she called me and told me that in the Delta lounge they had a taco bar and amazing ribs to eat. Shortly after that she got onto her plane and flew first class back to NYC where a car was waiting for her to take her home, whereas I had to fly to CLIT airport in North Carolina and then take another plane to Albany, New York to then hire a $100 dollar car to drive me forty miles to G's house, where then I had to go straight to bed because it was nearly midnight so I could get up at 5a to drive to Parish, New York. And sure, yes, that was a pain in the ass for me, but in all her luxury, in all of her taco bars and short ribs at the airport and the basically stretched limo service she received, poor Professor Curly got covid somewhere in between leaving the millionaires hotel and riding in the millionaires cars and flying on the millionaires flights. When I told G, PC had covid they said, "Oh no! Not on her birthday week!" And then I told them about how she got it and G said, "Eat the rich." It was funny. G is funny. Did I mention they have a license now? Passed the test on the first try? Can drive alone?

I got up early today even though I need to sleep in for a while and rest up. I think I have accumulated a week of Sundays from what I have just done. I havent eaten a regular meal in four weeks? I went to the grocery store today and I had forgotten how the place worked. It was kind of bizarre. I spent $70 and kind of bought nothing. A huge chunk of cheddar cheese. Three lbs of ground beef. Corporate Ticklers. Baby spinach and tortillas. That was it. And dont give me that inflation bullshit because it is nonsense. I hate to tell you but groceries are not more expensive. They havent been since 2020. Even then it was just eggs and some meat. And that was because of bird flu and people barbequing more. Ground beef has been between $3.99 and $5.50 this whole time. If you are paying more than that you are buying the rich people stuff. Organic et cetera. A can of black beans is still $1.19 and has been since 2019. Iceberg lettuce is like avocados and orange juice, it vacillates, but it only vacillates between $1.99 and $2.50 a head. My point is, this inflation narrative is starting to get exhausting. What is up? Price wise? I dont know, order from the fucking dollar menu. Housing? Yeah, you think? How about we vote in more Dems, the ones who will actually care about the lower and working and middle class. Who wont let corporations run rip shod on the economy just to give the share holders a tiny bit of profit. Did I ever mention that I think the stock market is immoral? ABOLISH 401ks! ABOLISH TURNSTILES! EAT THE RICH!

But it was nice when I woke up. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. I made some coffee and stood naked on the porch, looking into the vista, my dick erect, a herd of birds hopping near my feet, wings akimbo, saluting my anatomy. Then an eagle flew down and grabbed what it thought was a stiff snake and carried me off into the woods.

When I got back I showered and dressed and drove to Waitsfield with the idea that I would visit with the Putin of Gluten and maybe find a birthday present for Grit and Professor Curly. The drive was nice. A muscle memory. I dont remember the last time I was up here. I know I need to get Junior Mint inspected and my last inspection expired back in February, so it was before that, for certain. I really cant remember. It was snowy last time, I know that, but because this is Vermont, that could mean mid July to mid July. Sorry, that is hyperbole, what I meant is, early to mid October to mid to late May. I said, my bad. Four months. That is the decent weather in Vermont. And one of them, August, is almost insufferable, so there is maybe three months of good weather in Vermont. Three weeks in June, one week in July, half of may, two weeks in October and random three day stints here and there between April and November. Today was a great day for weather in Vermont. I drove all day with the windows down and the heater on. The wind in my golden flax locks and the heat in my jeans.

The Farmers Market hadnt changed. It was kind of odd though when I showed up. A sudden hush fell over the crowd. The band stopped playing. Everyone turned to look at me. I could see tears flowing down peoples faces. A little boy asked his mom, "Is that really him?" She couldnt answer, she could only squeeze his hand. I walked over to the band shell and climbed up the stairs to get on stage. My heart was heavy with what I was about to announce. I removed my baseball cap and held it over my chest as the banjo player positioned the microphone in front of me. The smell of manure wafted over the field. The sound of a hippy practicing his spirit sticks in the gas station parking lot across the street echoed through town. Somewhere a lighter lit and the bubbles of a bong drew smoke into a sad hippies lungs. Judy Wood lit a cigarette and the Summer worker at the creemee stand stopped creemeeing mid creemee just to listen.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is with a heavy heart that I come here today. You may think you have it bad, but I assure you that my day is much worse than yours is. However, I consider myself the luckiest man on earth. If you would like to eat a Cubby Bubby, suck it. The kitchen is closed, bitches!"

I grabbed the banjo and played a sweet solo and then smashed it on the stage. Everyone shrugged and went back to milling around. In the distance I heard Judy Wood light another cigarette.

It was nice though. I chatted with The Putin of Gluten for a while. We made plans to meet up later in the week. He showed me pictures of his very cute baby. I met the Cider Man that replaced my booth. The Upskirter got pissed off because it was so windy. She bent over and even though she was wearing tights, I could see that she was not wearing underwear. The Meat Man shook my hand. The Glassblower was there, dreadlocks and all. The tamale stand was in full operation with a new set of employees. There was a fish and chips booth. I bought some heart ear rings for Grit. When I was buying the ear rings a Black man was talking to the proprietor who was also black saying, "Its great you are here representing us, visually, I have been here for weeks and I have seen exactly four Black people." The middle aged woman looking at jewelry with me laughed and said, "Yeah." Which was funny. Actually funny. There was no animosity, it was kind of just a fact. I wanted to say something like, "I'm from Wyoming and if you think this place is White, I did a calculation once and well, Vermont is diverse comparatively." But nobody wants a pissing match about race.

I said my goodbyes and walked over to the grocery store to buy very odd things and then drove back to the Chalet where I made some ground beef tacos and eventually took a stack of New Yorkers down to the pink picnic table to read the cartoons because apparently I have to read those even though I cant barely stand that rag. But the sun was shining and it wasnt hot sun.

Later I drove over to the Compound, Carlisle is back! Living in the Rockwood Roo. He has a job in Warren refurbishing ski resort housing at SugarBush. Scott made brats and the goats bleated. Putney and Lovey gave me a very warm welcome. The Publisher and Grit are floating around on a cruise ship off the coast of Florida. Tomorrow I am going to run chemicals through the hot tub pipes to fix them. Scott is going fishing with Henry and Professor Curly is supposed to drive up if she can feel good enough to do so. I am sorry for making fun of her having covid. I do feel very bad for her. She does need your thoughts and prayers. I was only laughing about how she got the thing.

I SAID, MY BAD

[insert POG photo]