[76] Screed City

[76]

01/06/2022 Thursday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

I found the stink. It was broccoli all along. Hiding in the crisper. I took it out and waved it around. Causing a grief. Professor Curly had to get up from her work/watch movie hour and light a candle. She was not very pleased with me. I apologized, but to no avail. I mean, it was quite rude what I did. But what was done was done. And now the stink has been eradicated. The mice on the other hand. I have switched the bait. From marshmallows to honeyed bread. There is a corner that they have been visiting. I can tell because of all the turds there. I think there is two more. Judging by the amount of craps they have left behind. I guess we now wait. They are very timid mice. At the moment that is. First generation. If they breed I suppose they will become more aggressive. Or maybe just hanging around will do that to them. That is if I don't succeed in eradicating them.

We shot two Sequestered videos today. One by the reindeer farm over in Middlebury. One in the carwash. Also in Middlebury. Four left. Four left! With gods help we will be finished with this project by Saturday. Tomorrow we are picking Grit up from the school bus in Lower Granville. I think we will be filming when the bus shows up. She will get off and join the film. Then there will be three left. It is supposed to start snowing tonight. We will see. They say that all the time nowadays. But it never seems to come to pass. I don't know why that bugs me so much. To predict snow and then no snow. It is impossible to plan for. But what can you do?

We went to the Museum of Everyday Things yesterday. In the NorthEast Kingdom. The museum was fantastic. They have a whole section devoted to toothbrushes that I found fascinating. Also, knots. Also, found notes. I think I will take a look in my archives. I have so many found notes I don't even know if I still have them. I mean, I used to make a habit of it. Back in the City. Any note I found I would keep. They were usually just grocery lists. But sometimes they were very good. One time there was directions to a gun show upstate. Which I thought would make for a good murder mystery short story. I mean, maybe it would. But the one I wrote was junk. I almost started a chat group for short stories based on found notes, but I didn't. I couldn't get behind moderating such a thing. Plus it probably already existed. And, I mean, I am not a snob, but I do prefer to work alone. And the idea of being in a writing group or going to a writer's retreat or something. I can't stand it. Not my style. And from what I gather, or have gathered, the writing is usually just about daily life in a writing retreat. I mean, I guess Brokeback Mountain was written in one of those things. I mean, that story was pretty good. But that is like one in a million. I mean, I don't mean to talk shit about how other people write, but it is just not for me. I mean, if you want to write about your daily life while living in the mountains, move to the mountains and write about your daily life. I mean, if you are somebody that applies to these things and gets in, you probably have the means to do something like that already. I mean, cut the middle man out. Make your shit less pretentious. I mean, just do the shit. I mean, 99% of all writing is just doing the shit you say your going to do. The "Creativity" just comes from that 1% of how you actually do it. I mean, ideas and assholes, like the bridesmaids say.

The last Sequestered’s are about leaving Brooklyn. The George Floyd protests are getting into full swing. I am trying to get to the DMV to get my driver's license back. Me and Professor Curly are making plans to get a car. Get up to Vermont. See what happens. Ride it out or whatever. I mean, it is kind of very interesting. That was nearly two years ago. I mean, a few things have happened since then. I mean, it is funny how you just forget your daily life. The little details. And then you read about them again and it all comes crashing back. I mean, I was still trying to figure out bagels back then. And it was going horribly. I mean, I am not the kind of person that believes that hard work gets you anything. But I am the kind of person that believes persistence will eventually pay off. Not in the way you would want it to, but if you stick to shit, eventually you will become kind of good at it. I mean, you can't will yourself into being a professional basketball player or whatever, but if you practice basketball everyday for a long enough period, I think that eventually you will get pretty good at it. But then, this all depends on how focused you are. And, I mean, I don't think that obsession is a very healthy thing, but it helps when you are trying to get good at something.

I mean, I sent in my application to the Waitsfield Farmers Market. Why not? I applied for a permanent spot. It makes me a little nervous if I actually get it. But it is one of those things where you should ask for too much and then pull back if you need. I wouldn't mind being an alternate again. I am not sure what this year is going to be like. For travelling or whatever. But I was supposed to be living in Philly with Professor Curly right now and how is that going? She is here now. Probably will be for the next week. Maybe longer. The Albany job is still postponed. I am going to have to be in charge of that at some point soon. When Scott hits the skids for the Cruise Ship Circuit. I told the Boss that I was nervous about it. He understands. But why not? I could use a challenge like that, I think. I mean, I don't want to become a Company Man, but I should be able to do those jobs on my own, I think. I mean, I have been doing this shit for two decades at this point. I mean, it is a little bit larger of a job than I am comfortable with, but I need to grow up eventually. I suppose.

Plus, I think I will go to Portland, Maine in a couple weeks. Now that the PS/NY thing got cancel-poned. Postelled? Postpone-Cancelled. Work at the Brewery for a week. Plus Brother Luke's birthday. Shit, I need to tell Tom. I can do that after this.

Macaroni and cheese with hot dogs for dinner. Fried broccoli. Not the stink broccoli. We got some new stuff at the Hannaford's today. I think tomorrow we are going to have fried steak and french fries for dinner. Scott and the Publisher and Grit are coming over. We are planning a tree burning for one of the Sequestered videos. To ring in the New Year. That will be number four. Then on Saturday morning-ish we are going to recreate the first Sequestered video to make it the last one. But we still have one more after that which will be the penultimate one. It will probably be an ice skating video. Or, maybe, just maybe, a snow shoe one. I mean, I still haven't tried those things on. The new boots. There just hasn't been time. Today was teenager late morning. Everything bagels for breakfast. Professor Curly had a fried egg and then did a computer call. G got up eventually. Had half of a bagel and a piece of coconut cake. A glass of water. Then I showered. Then G showered. Then we left to shoot videos. Go to the grocery. Come back. By then it was all cleaning up and getting ready for dinner. I took a power nap. G took a three hour nap. PC did a bunch of work things. It was nice and peaceful. I mean, today was a shitty day for the news. The harbingers of Democracy are really doubling down. It makes me very exhausted. It needs to end. And the only way to get it to end is to vote like the wind. And I don't trust we can pull it off. Whatever. I won't go into it. That is Screed City suicide.

I need to get in touch with the radio station ASAP. I mean, when we went to the MOOT yesterday we listened for thirty minutes some gal just reading from a book about some guy going up to Alaska to do the Iditarod. She played old-timey tunes to keep the mood going. She was a horrible reader as well. My point is, Screed City Radio would blow their socks off! I mean, I need to lean in, as the bridesmaids are starting to say. That is a new-ish aphorism. Courtesy of Michelle Obama. I mean, she didn't invent it, but she certainly made it popular. But it seems to be quite immersed in the current language canon. I mean, if I am going to commit to the Waitsfield Farmer's Market. Shit! That timing is awful. The Saturday afternoon slot. I guess I should see if Sunday is available. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow. I mean, I have a lot of shit to do. And I want to do all of it! Why can't I just be born rich? Or at least Professor Curly win the MacArthur? That would solve quite a few problems I am having. Plus, if she gets that thing then the Pulitzer jerks are def gonna come knocking. That is how it works. I mean, PC is a jerk herself. All she needs to do, I mean, she does like an interview every few days, all she has to do it talk about my books in those interviews. Then, when my name is in the NY Times and the New Yorker and New York Magazine, I mean, then I can get my Wikipedia page. And then, BAM! Easy street for all. I don't understand why she doesn't do it. It would only help her out.

I figured out the ending to Soft Elbows. If anyone cares. I still haven't figured out if I want it to be a novella though. I think I may not have a choice. But I need to be careful though. This has happened before. When I decide something and it accidentally truncates a thing I am working on. But I am in no rush about it. Not only that, but I am thoroughly enjoying writing it. I think it might break something loose. Something that has been dangling there for quite some time. Which will lead me into the next phase of my writing career. I mean, I have been cultivating this conversational writing-style for a few years now. And it has just been dancing around this notion that you can be both casual and structured at the same time with a third element of the double narrator and a certain undergirding of bleakness that can make the shit fun to read. I mean, this idea of suggestion without being heavy handed. Yet subtle. I mean, I am very close to writing that thing that uses all my skills in the exact right mixture that won't really on shock and grossness to express shock and grossness. I mean, we'll see. But I am feeling very optimistic at the moment.

I ordered new bottles. Not from ULINE. Those dicks can suck it. I plan on selling the hot sauces at the Farmers Market. The sticker labels came. They are the two bit Cooking Cockroach that G designed. Plus they say FUNBUNZ on them. Bright pink. I don't have a picture or else I would show you. I mean I have this:

[insert G CC label]

Imagine a cool looking FUNBUNZ underneath. I mean, I guess the idea is that the hot sauce makes you have fun with your bunz later? I should probably design an ingredients thing to put on it. I don't think I need to give calorie information on them. Nutritional Facts or whatever. I mean, if I am selling them at a Farmers Market. But still, I think people would like to know what goes into them. I mean, there are no secret ingredients. Just love and sweat. Not sweat even, really. And the love is mostly just time. Waiting around until they are finished curing. Or whatever. Fermenting. I mean, I ordered some air lock things so I can do larger batches. I just need some juicy jugs now. Like maybe I can get a few of those water cooler things to use. Something clear so I can have a look-see when I am making them. I am not sure where I will keep them. I mean, I need a shed or something. A shack. Just in case something goes wrong. Like Young Einstein and his bubbles in beer. "All we have to do is split this one beer, Adam."

I am also considering making my own Ticklers. I got some brewers yeast because I wanted to work on making vinegar, but the Ticklers would also be easy to make. And, I mean, it would save a shitload of money. The problem is that is just a whole new development in science experiments that might be too much. Even for me. I mean, basically you make an alcohol and then you bottle it and let it ferment. But if you do it wrong you just end up with gross mead or something. I mean, what I propose, is to make a clean and pure alcohol and then just buy seltzer water. Add a hint of lime or something. Grapefruit. And that is that. The problem really is how do you end up with a 5% ABV instead of like 20% like the yeast tells you you will end up with. And if I am just going to switch to having a couple mixed drinks when I tickle the ivories, why not just buy a bottle of vodka and be done with it? I mean, I will tell you why, because I don't work that way. I know myself. The first drink would be nice and easy, a splash of vodka and a glass full of seltzer and a squeeze of lime. And then, two hours later, I am doing 1/2 & 1/2. Smoking cigarettes again. Calling the dealer. And before you know it, I am stuck in bed for three days wondering what the hell I am doing with my life. I mean, the dealer would be Vinney in that instance. And, I mean, that would just end up with me shot dead down the street. Or worse, I would get distracted and climb up the mountain next to the house and die from hypothermia. Thinking, Isn't this so beautiful! The stars are so clear! The snow feels so warm! I think I will just close my eyes for a few. Listen to the silence. And then they will find me. Frozen like a popsicle. The last great Screed waiting on my computer. And it will just be a 10,000 word rant about how the Racist Right is destroying America just to make a few dollars. FIlled with misspellings, and, confusing commas.

I mean, we will see. I am not chomping at the bit to make home Ticklers as the bridesmaids say. It is just a thought. But the yeast and the air locks will at least allow me to make some zesty vinegars that will be tasty in the hot sauces. I mean, I hate to say it, but the vinegar I made out of old Ticklers is so far the most superior. I mean, I might just try it just to see if I can reproduce that without it costing too much money. I mean, they really are just citrus, alcohol and seltzer. And then when the thing becomes a vinegar it just gets oily and sour. Perfect for a hot sauce. I mean, so far the hot sauces I have made haven't been insanely spicy. I mean, I like a hot hot sauce, but if it is too much it kind of makes things unpleasant. And since peppers are so hard to get around here, I mean, a nice Vermont-style hot sauce might be what the doctor ordered. I mean, if it is what the doctor ordered for the bridesmaids because they have a severe case of the FUNBUNZ.

Anyhoodles. I hope it snows tomorrow. It is supposed to get really cold in the next few days. I think we are meeting with the New Landlord on Monday to deal with bills. My poor wallet is drying up. All that money I ironed in 2020 is almost gone. I mean, that was my savings. I guess. I don't know anymore. I think about money sometimes. And it just never makes sense. I guess I should get more of it, but why? Then what? You spend it, then you have to make more? I mean, you get a job so you can have a job? I mean, so you can own shit? I mean, I just love that the idea of freedom in America is just being able to buy things. To own things. But you can't actually own anything. The entire function of the Universe is to basically destroy everything that exists. Nothing is sustainable. It is just a matter of time before everything you and I know of turns to dust. I mean, in the sense of actually holding onto it. And this idea that one thing versus that other thing is somehow worth more or less, I mean, I know, I know, we have a Society to maintain, but don't you think it is weird that no matter what you do you will never actually achieve ownership of the things you covet? Ships in the night. Like the bridesmaids weep about. This passing moment. This fleeting emotion. It will never actually mean anything unless you give it meaning yourself. And somehow we all agree to just work every day to make money so we can buy shit and somehow not be scared of the Great Big Unknown? I mean, there is no security in life. And I know this. You know this. Yet, somehow, we don't collectively understand this? That we just give and give and the powers that seem to control things just take and take and we just end up being broke and miserable anyway? Like, I mean, the simplest things that we need are somehow not provided to us as a collective? That anyone would actually starve right now? Or go broke paying for health care? Or shelter? Or really anything as simple as just living through the day. I mean, and somehow I am the bad guy because I don't think we should all work 40, 50, 80 hours a week to make it happen? That art is just as important as commerce? I mean, you buy the cocaine to do the job so you can purchase the cocaine to get the job done so you can have the money to buy the cocaine to get the job done so you can buy the cocaine. Ad Nausea.

I mean, I understand the need to keep Society together. And it takes all of us to do it. But, I don't know where reality broke off and where we somehow decided to just go along with it. I mean, I am going to keep working. I have to. Every day of my life. Work. Working, working, working, then one day we die. I am not suggesting that we stop working. All I am asking is this:

Maybe we should think about it.

We stopped at the McDonald's today after the Hannaford's. I ordered a two cheeseburger meal with a diet Coke, medium. A small fry. A medium Sprite. A double cheeseburger. A six piece chicken mcnugget with sweet and sour dipping sauce. We went through the drive through. Paid. Got the order. Drove around the side of the building. Parked. I said:

"You know, of all the things that we didn't do right during the pandemic, the one thing we got right was people eating in the parking lot of fast food places." Professor Curly was rooting through the bag. The double cheeseburger was missing she said:

"I have bad news. The double cheeseburger is missing.

I went inside. I mean, the drive through was fantastic. People were nice. It was fast. There was like six cars when we were there. It was very efficient. However, inside was a different matter altogether. Everyone was incredibly depressed. Over-worked. Under-staffed. Nobody was happy. I mean, I felt bad about going in to get the thing. But I did it. I mean, we paid for it. But still. That was the truth spilling out. I mean, they are paying $14 dollars and hour now to work at McDonald's. And it still isn't enough money. Because it is gross. America is now gross. I mean, we shouldn't have gone there. But we did. And that is all things in America right now. Service-wise. Our entire economy is based on disposable labor so we can just sit in our cars eating cheeseburgers that are cheap as hell. And because of the pandemic we need this service even more. But instead of just making it better for the people that work there, we are doing some weird side-slide into who the hell knows what. I mean, the supposed "Market" is just going to make these jobs either obsolete, meaning we just have a hut somewhere that sells us burgers served up by robots, or, because we are not ready for this eventuality, we are going to have career jobs where you work at fucking McDonald's like the way you used to work at some car factory in Detroit. I mean, how depressing is that? But, then again, so what? I worked at Taco John's for long enough that I could see myself really getting into the idea of moving up the chain. You become night manager, then proper manager, then you save money and franchise your own Taco John's. I mean, why not? But I will say, though, that it was never as depressing as walking into that McDonald's today. There was something about it that made me think that there is something missing when it comes to fast food that there is a greater cost then anyone of us is really thinking about. I mean, I know, I know, we all know this. It has been apparent for 20 years now. But, I won't lie, I believe I saw the beginning of the collapse today. There is just not enough money in the world to keep these businesses going. Yet, we are going to continue to patronize them until they implode. Demanding cheaper cheeseburgers while standing in line for hours. And we won't even know why we are doing it. It will just be muscle memory. Because that is where we go on our lunch breaks or whatever. I mean, Capitalism is a motherfucker. And the service industry is the going to be the first thing that collapses. And once we stop spending money there, then what? The farms won't need to produce. Then what? Gas? Paper? Plastic? I mean, I think I saw something today that makes me a little bit nervous for the future. And who knows? Maybe it is for the best. Maybe this means the end to industrialization. We will have to go back to locally farmed everything. And we will have a reverse mass-migration away from the cities. And things will normalize again. But shit. It is going to be a wild fucking ride if that is true. Invest in everything right now, because there is no telling what is going to buck first. I mean, invest in that robot that makes cheeseburgers. For sure. I mean, I would advise that you buy land, but it is already too late for that. The rich people already bought it all up. I mean, you have your savings, right?