[86] Screed City

[86]

01/26/2022 Wednesday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

Well, I snuck away to go eat some wangs at the Compound and came back to a 56F house. Guess what's acting weird again? It's -2F at the moment. If the boiler is broken, it is going to be a long cold night. I mean, the New Landlord is coming over in the morning to get some wood. I can punch him in the gut. Maybe his wallet will shoot out of his back pocket and I can go spend a few days in a hotel in Middlebury like Professor Curly did last year around this time. I mean, I went down into the basement and did a reset. The thing was giving me an Err 16 message. Too hot to trot. I mean, I wonder what triggered it. The water pipes are running just fine. Maybe there is one of Mike's roaches clogging one of the pipes? I mean, he did like to smoke by the intake valve.

Relentless. Vermont-style. Butwhatever. The thing seems to be working. We will see. In other Vermont related news, me and Scott and the Publisher just had a meeting about the sugar line. Scott and I are going to New Ham to buy supplies. On Friday. I am going to take over the operation in March. Scott will be sunning his nards on some cruise ship somewhere in the Bay of Exile. Where Napoleon spent his last days. Or did he come back from that? I don't remember. I mean, don't get me wrong, but I feel like the myth and actions of Napoleon get way too much attention in the history of things. I mean, am I wrong? He seems like he just went around and took a bunch of land and then he lost it all. Right? A mere blip in the real history of things. What am I missing? I mean, I don't really care, so don't tell me what I am missing, I just kind of feel like he is the Benjamin Franklin of what actually matters in the world right now. With respect to actual world history. Early to bed is a penny saved. The bridesmaids say. Propaganda.

But France. Don't get me started. I went to the post office today. To mail some books. The guy there really put the screws to me about getting a job there. I mean, I inquired a few weeks ago about work. He said it was a very good job. They needed mail carriers in Roach Town. I thought about it for a second and then kind of just forgot about it. But then today he said:

"You're Joey Truman?" I thought I was famous all the sudden. But nope. "You never went and talked to the people in Rochester. Did you not want the job?"

"I mean...[mumble, mumble, mumble] and not only that, but I have this freelance job...[blah, blah, blah] and then I did try to get a job in Brooklyn with the post office. They didn't even return my phone call."

"But here is the thing! If you want to, you can transfer anywhere. You will get preferential treatment. Go anywhere, Hawaii even."

I am going to go to Rochester tomorrow to talk to them about it. I mean, why not? The job is there for the taking. A government job. Which I always wanted. Vacation time, retirement, health insurance, paid sick leave. I mean, what is there not to like? I mean, it combines all my talents and desires. Drive around all day. Mail things. You know? Things I am good at. We will see. Maybe they have a part-time option. That would be ideal. Unlikely, but ideal.

I got the first installment of Donkey BOT [Book on Tape.] It is glorious. I couldn't fall asleep last night because of it. All my projects just coming together all at once. I mean, the radio, Dishwasher. I mean, there is just so much stuff to do. I had to go for a horse-shoe first thing to clear my head. I did a tripler. Three miles. That was nice. Back and forth. Back and forth. Cleaned the cobwebs out. I came back to Beaver Haus, ate a couple tacos and got straight to work. I mean, I grinded up some hot sauces. Had some tastings. Set up the projector to start working on the Dishwasher cover. Taped some paper together. Hung it from the wall. Did some laundry. Smelled my brews. The Ticklers are coming right along. Packed some books and shirts into a box. Addressed it. I mean, sadly the two hot sauces I ground up were too salty. The third one though, I removed all the juice and just used clean water. That helped. That one turned out the best. I mean, I don't really know. I am starting to think I might have made too much hot sauce. We will see. If the next few don't turn out very well I may have to restructure.

I got work next week. Somewhere upstate New York. Doing demolition with Jay-Boo. I mean, it hasn't been formalized, but I think I will get the marching orders tomorrow. If not, I will call Jason. I am not sure how much work it is. Demo work can sometimes be short jobs. They are simple and blunt. You just cut all the shit down and load it into the back of a truck. It is loud and very dirty and heavy. But it is work. Work is money. Money means shirts. When the work becomes formalized I will hit send on the Screed City Radio shirts. Maybe even the Loneliest Bench Ten Mile shirts. Maybe even the Dishwasher stickers. Maybe I will even get more Dishwasher shirts made. I have seven left. They need adjustment anyway.

Here is the first stage mock-up for the book cover:

[insert Dishwasher cover]

The Dishwasher font is too small. And I might not want to put my name on the front. But this is the idea. Same as the shirt, but more book-like. I will tweak the insignia as well. Use some paint. Maybe get some black chalk. Add some color? Reds or blues. Yellow, maybe. I mean, it is a start.

The BOT [Book on Tape] kind of blew my mind last night. I listened to the thing in it's entirety. 45 minutes. Part Three. It is weird hearing your writing in somebody else's voice. But Shane did a great job. I think I will add some music. Maybe just in the beginning and the end. But who knows? I might add some accents here and there. Maybe even add some sound effects. I don't know. I don't know! This is what kept me up last night. There is just so much work to do all the sudden. I mean, this is kind of why I am considering the post office job. I mean, Professor Curly has that apartment in Philly until July. I think. Maybe mid-June. Then we don't know what we are going to do. Stay here? Go back to the City? Things are really just very much up in the air. And the idea of moving all of our shit again, I mean, into a one bedroom flop house in Brooklyn, just to be there? I mean, who knows? Maybe she will need to be there more than I need to be here, so, that will be a thing, but if this idea works out, I get this job chucking mail. I can do the Farmers Market on Saturday. Radio on Sunday night. Work in the day time. Getting exercise. Then when and if we need to move back to Brooklyn, I can transfer there. I mean, no more gold bricking for Joe. I mean, Joe S. not Joe T. I am Joe T. Joe S. is a great big jerk. I mean, who accuses one of his best workers of gold bricking? I mean, maybe I will get a job chucking mail in Sunset Park and then, who knows, Joe? Whoops, did you not receive all your tax documents? My bad. Take it up with the GB Council. Gold Brick Council. Just joking. I love Joe. And I would never do that with the mail. I actually really believe that the government mail system holds this country together. I respect it and believe in it. I think Luis Dejoy belongs in jail. Or at least he deserves to be poor. I mean, did Benjamin Franklin come up with the idea of the post office? Hold on, I need to check. Fuck. Okay, I take it all back! Also, Napoleon did some stuff too that affects our current global-political whatever. I won't look him up though. He can suck it. He had cool outfits though.

Okay, it is 58F in here now. The thing seems to be working. I guess I won't have to gut punch the New Landlord. Maybe I should pick-pocket him anyway. Just in case. I mean, next Wednesday it is supposed to fucking rain. Get up into the upper 40's. I mean, I don't know what I mean. I don't mind the weather as long as it is reliable. I don't mind that it is super freezing. I can deal with it. But if next Wednesday it is melting all the snow? The beginning of February? I mean, I need to move all those guns in the basement. I should do that tomorrow. They are in exactly the wrong place. When the water starts rushing into the basement is always along that Southern facing wall. I mean, maybe on Friday when Scott comes to get me I can give them back. The revolution never came. Just joking. The revolution is coming. Just joking. Scott just was doing some renovations and needed to store his guns somewhere for a little bit. And now that the renovations are done, they don't need to be in the basement anymore. Especially if the flood waters are coming again. Fucking Vermont.

I did a second horse-shoe later in the afternoon. After going to the post office to be indoctrinated. I went over to this field down the highway a bit. Where all the deer like to cross. It was nice. Hard work. I think I will do it again tomorrow. Get my beach body in shape early this year. Then maybe Professor Curly will come back. Pay attention to me again. I mean, I did order a new bikini that I think she will like. It makes my banana look real handsome. Plus I have that video about how to wax my butt that I can reference when it is time. I mean, I have been thinking of doing a new shirt. One that is just the word:

UNSCRUBSCRIBE. [Or maybe no "."]

I mean, Professor Curly helped me out with the disclaimer for Postal Teen. After I mailed it out though. She said the version I did made it seem like I was just being racist and homophobic and transphobic on purpose. I mean, I went back and switched it out. But that doesn't go to peoples inboxes. So, the next one, I guess. I mean, that material is hard stuff to sell anyway, however, a decent disclaimer is much better than one that makes it seem like I am just an asshole that is warning people that I am an asshole, right?

I am starting to realize that if I go to work next week my poor Ticklers are going to be ready before I leave on Monday. I mean, I guess I can take a gravity reading on Friday for the first one. And if it is good then I can put it in the fridge. Then the same to the second one on Saturday. The third on Sunday. And I can add my clarifying agent to all of them on Sunday. Then, when I get back, be that mid-week or the end of the week. They will be ready to be bottled. I mean, if I think about it, the timing might be perfect. If it doesn't work though, I may just end up with three gallons of fart water. Which, I don't know about you, but the goal of my Tickler experiment is to create a clean and cheap alternative to the junk that they charge an arm and leg for at the super markets. I mean, there is nothing artisanal about what I am doing. Quite the opposite. I mean, I don't want to be sitting around with my bros talking about yeast notes or whatever. I mean, the dog Lovey today was eating cat shit earlier. Then she was really farty at dinner. I mean, that is what I am not looking for, "Hmmm, do detect a smidgeon of cat shit farted out of a dogs asshole in this brew?" I mean, I love a good meta-style anything. I mean, Shane, the guy doing the BOT [Book on Tape] I have known him since I was 16. He is featured heavily in Killing the Math. And now he is doing the BOT [Book on Tape] of Donkey. Using probably the same microphones that this band The Rash I was in in high school used to record an album back in the 90's. I mean, my point is, I do love a good meta-style adventure. But a dog eating a cat turd and then farting it out and that is what your home-brew tastes like? I don't think so. That stinks!

I mean, I think I might buy a 404 sample machine to make things for the radio. With catch phrases. I mean:

"You know what I think of that? [fart noise] ["It stinks!]"

And then all the hits from National Lampoons Christmas Vacation. Barfly. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Turn Up the Radio. I mean, the world is my oyster when it comes to these things. I mean, the guy got back in touch. It is going to be a few weeks before I can get trained. He said they have a back log. I wonder if he is hoping that I will lose interest. But he does not know me. He doesn't know that I am getting t-shirts made. He doesn't know that I have an even better design now:

[insert New SSR t-shirt idea]

See! It has the station identifier now! There is no turning back now, John! The t-shirts make it so. I mean, for a while I thought the radio station was called WMRV. W-MERV. Which, I was going to have a sample that said:

"Merv! When did you get here?"

Which, I still will, but it won't be the same. I mean, who knows. Maybe he just doesn't actually care and I will get in there to train ASAP. But I can never tell around here. The social cues around these parts are all just so confusing. I mean, you will call the gas company freaking out about your gas. They will tell you to calm down. Everything will be just fine. But they will know that you have a new bill with them and therefore you are not local, but at the same time you will just be burning through so much gas that it is strange and then when you try to ask them about it they will tell you something is wrong, you shouldn't be burning that much gas. And then you will explode "That is what I was worried about in the first place!" And then they will tell you to calm down again. Tell you to change out your Winter tires in late October, or not, it all depends what your needs are. Do you want to use up your Winter tires and then just buy new ones, or do you want to change your tires out every season? And then you are like "I don't know! I just want a clear answer!" And they will tell you that it all depends. And you will say "On what!? I have no frame of reference here." And they will tell you it depends on what your needs are. And then they will fill up your gas tank and charge you $1,000 dollars and you can't get ahold of the New Landlord because he is busy running the chair lift at SugarBush. Where there is no cell service. And then, while all of this is happening, the bottom of your car just rusts off and you are driving around like Fred fucking Flintstone because your car has no bottom because you didn't get the undercoating like nobody fucking told you to do. It makes you want to go berserk!

I mean, we are in year two around here. I am starting to feel like Joel Fleischman from Northern Exposure. I will understand eventually. And I just need to roll with everything. But still, my god! I mean, at least he had Native friends and other people of different cultures hanging around. All I got is grumpy dude one and grumpy dude two, his grumpy angry wife and their angry anti-vaxx businesses that I have no choice but to patronize. I mean, I am not saying I don't mind. The place is very pretty. Ever since I started the horse-shoe regimen I am feeling much better about things. I mean, I don't know what I mean. I can get things done here. That is a great benefit. But that changes nothing. I mean, it changes a lot, actually. Having rent paid and ways to pay bills that isn't just money is a huge help, but still, can somebody get the memo out that Vermont needs some reverse-gentrification happening ASAP? I mean, the state can become a beacon of actual progressive thought. We just need some people that aren't Harbingers of Inertia. I mean, the one actual hope that I have in this political climate, I mean, the one saving fucking grace that these idiot States Rights Racist Republicans are creating is a way for places like Vermont to actually continue to be a testing ground for progressive thought without the scary and destructive authoritarian inclinations of the Right being able to do anything about it. I mean, sanctuary. That is what I mean. Sanctuary. We just need to actually be open and welcoming like we pretend. Which! I think we are. There is just a money imperative that comes with it. Which is what this whole idea of structural racism is really about. I mean, I flew sideways into middle class coming up here. But I am straight and white and male. I also have a partner. Who is straight and white and female. Plus we have friends up here. And the timing was perfect. But there is no movies out there about a Black couple moving to Vermont. There are tons of those with regard to White people. Funny Farm. Baby Boom. Look Who's Driving Now. I mean, not that movies mean anything truthful. But still. The joke is always, a White couple moves from the City to the Country and whoa is it odd! But then everything works itself out. And aren't we all better because of it? I mean, I want to watch the movie where Kanye West moves to Cody, Wyoming and has to deal with those racist fuckers. I mean, I am not saying Vermont is racist, I am just saying that in a cultural way, I would love to see some reverse-gentrification films that expose the divide that exists in our culture. And sadly, I am not in a position to do it.

The Snow Tires debacle is still annoying as hell. And the gas in the Winter problem. And the salt on the roads problem. And the grouchy white guy locals problem. And the nothing to fucking do and nowhere to do it problem. I mean, aside from that, Vermont is great!

[insert theme song, don’t worry, not Rick Roll]

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