[99] Screed City

[99]

02/18/2022 Friday. Kitchen Microwave. Beaver Haus. Lower Granville, Vermont.

I won't lie to you, last night was an abject success. Hank and I both read like the wind. Tom's studio and Tom were both fantastic. There was a great turn-out. Lots of drinks got drunk. I mean, I don't even know what to say about it other than it went very really quite well. Some books were sold. Some people added to the newsletter. I gave out every single Dishwasher t-shirt. I mean, that could have gone a little different. My plan to get people to commit to pre-ordering the book if they took a shirt just didn't happen. I lost my focus. I mean, they are promotional anyway. I will keep making them. Giving them away. I mean, at some point I will figure out how to sell this shit, I guess, I mean, in my heart I just don't fucking care, I mean, I care quite a bit, I just don't care for the "Business" aspect of making art. I mean, I guess that is why people get agents and publicists and junk like that. Someone else to deal with the transactional bullshit of being an artist. I mean, I will never be some sort of commodity anyway, and the idea of scraping pennies from people's wallets so I can keep making art? I mean, I gave up long ago. I know I will always have to work a job to make art, so be it. I am an adult, I can give t-shirts away if I want to. I mean, I paid for them, they belong to me, I mean, what else is there to say about it? The books on the other hand. Those don't belong to me, I didn't pay for them, so it was nice that people paid for them. I mean, in the whole scheme of things.

Fuck! I owe Augustin and electronic mail. I wonder if this will count? I know he reads these things. I don't want to stop writing to do this. And I know I will forget to do it if I don't do it now. So:

Augustin! Hey, so what I need from you is basically just clarity. Clarity in the sense that the story should not have huge holes and the logic and tone are consistent. I think I have resolved any irregularities, but I am not positive. The book kind of goes off the rails in the end, but that is on purpose. And I don't know if the stage scenes need more work or not. They are supposed to be kind of benign, in a sense. I mean, Bouillon is not a very good comedian. So his jokes don't need to be very good, they should come across as entertaining though. Also, another thing to consider is that the book will be chopped up into 12 parts. What is that? 331/12=27.58333333 pages per part. Roughly. I think the cadence is already structured for that sort of dissecting because it was written that way, but it is something to keep in mind.

Yeah, that doesn't work. I mean, I will have to send an actual electronic mail in the morning. I don't think it is the best idea to conduct editing conversations in the middle of diatribes. I might be wrong. I mean, with things the way they are going that will be the future of everything. Full transparency, but still, I think that what the bridesmaids would say about this would apply:

"Spare me the details."

There was another one that I heard today that I hadn't heard in a while that got me thinking:

"Takes one to know one."

I like the phrasing of that. I think I may use it as a book title at some point in the future. Or maybe a theme or something. I mean, it says so much about Society. About petty-ness. Defensive-ness. It is both childish and somehow transcendent at the same time. I mean, if life really is self-similar, like fractals and shit, I mean, we may live in a digital world of sorts, everything approximations, taking one to know one holds more truth than what it leads on about. I mean, it might be one of those accidental truths that happen when kids process conflict. I mean, it really does take one to know one. But that reminds me of a thought I had the other day when I was trying to sleep but I couldn't so I just laid there thinking about math.

There is no way to express an arc of a curve with respect to a straight line originating from a single point origin if you are using a Y axis to define the arc. I mean, sorry, this is probably pure nonsense, but if you are trying to define a curve that is happening at some distance from it's origin and you have two measurements for distance, the X axis, meaning the vertical axis the the Y axis, the horizontal axis, there is no way to reverse engineer the trajectory of any given point if you start from the arc of the thing itself. It is single-directional. I mean, think about it. It is not like an asymptotic high degree calculation where the curve just starts at one point and quickly expands into infinity. I mean, there is just now way to define it without redirecting the origin with every new calculation. I mean, if that is true then that means there is nothing but empty space that exists between the initial calculation and the secondary calculation. Which! I mean, we know from our math books that that is the reason for derivative calculus, but still! There must be a third corrective calculation that HAS to exist in order to define a second-dimensional arc. I mean. I don't know why this blew my mind so much, but it kind of got me thinking that the reason that we can have this thing like pi that is an irrational number to define a circle, the reason that it isn't rational is because it is just impossible for it to be rational. And that is only because there is no way to define an origin UNLESS there is a defined arc. I mean, you know what I mean? A circle can't be a circle unless a circle is already a circle. And if the idea is that everything in this universe is self-same, like fractals, then that means that fractals can't exist until they exist. You can't create something that doesn't already exist. That is all I am saying.

I mean, I don't know, I don't mean to be giving math lessons, but I did find this idea fascinating as I was trying to sleep. I almost got up and wrote it down. I wish I would have because trying to explain it now was just as bad as the electronic mail to Augustin. I mean, it doesn't belong here, but since everyone got mad at me about talking politics all the time, I mean, what would you rather have? Math lessons or politics? Probably neither, but I am still working on the science nerds t-shirt about making maple syrup, I mean, maybe I just have pancakes on the mind?

The drive back to Vermont was okay. Long and uneventful. I woke up pretty hungover today. I was drunk when I left Tom's studio. Me and Stefan took the F train. I got off at Broadway Laugh-Riot as Tim Murphy used to call that train stop. I mean, that was pretty funny every time he made that joke. I still think about it every time. It was raining when I got to Harlem. Professor Curly was asleep. I think it was like 1a when I hopped in the sack. About five hours later I woke up and had to take a piss. When I got out of the bathroom she was up and at them. I was confused. It was still dark out. She needed to haul ass to Philly. To catch a train. To Philly. I asked her what time it was and she said it was time to go. Which, I mean, even in my delirious state of being half-hungover and half-asleep still seemed quite dramatic. The next thing I remember was the door to Jonny's apartment slamming. It seemed like one minute had passed. I think it must have been at least thirty minutes. I mean, she had drank the coffee I had made her the day before. I knew because the coffee cup was empty. I mean, unless she just got up, sucked the thing down, cold and all, and then ran out the door. I mean, my guess is that she microwaved it, finished packing, drank the coffee warm and then hit the skids. I mean, my point is is that it took more than ten minutes. Maybe it took thirty minutes. But it wasn't less than twenty. I don't know what this information has to do with anything, but it is the information I have.

I woke up a few hours later. Got out of bed. Not wanting to, but having to. I could have kept sleeping. But I didn't. I wanted to get on the road. I drank the other cup of coffee I had made yesterday. After nuking it for a minute and a half. I took a shower. Cleaned everything. I found a heart earring and two bobby pins. Professor Curly had also left her toothbrush and toothpaste. I mean, I would have just left them there. She is supposed to go back on Monday, I think, but I didn't want to leave it. That would have been poor form. You can't just leave shit behind in a friend's apartment that you are borrowing while they are out of town. That is just rude. I mean, I think I packed everything up. Including the heart earring and the toothpaste and toothbrush and the bobby pins. I mean, I went down to Junior Mint and got my travel mug for coffee and brought it back up to the apartment. Made some coffee for the road. That is another thing. I brought coffee with me. And one of those plastic dripper things. That is also poor form, to not show up with your own coffee. I mean, right? I mean, I did accidentally leave the very awful and grotesque Ticklers that I bought on Wednesday night in the fridge. I mean, I think Professor Curly is going back there on Monday, so hopefully she can deal with that, but still. I mean, being a house guest is hard work. There is a lot to think about.

I mean, I don't know. I poured myself a homemade Tickler when I started writing this. The jug has been in the fridge for four days now? I mean, the liquid is crystal clear. Like Kanye's vision from the side of the truck that he sent all those flowers to Kim. I mean, I wonder, I just wonder, is the way that you get clean Ticklers, or clean beer, or whatever, is all you have to do is just have a big enough tank? So all the sediment just falls to the bottom? Is that it? Is it that simple? I mean, I think what we have learned in the 10,000 years that humans have been making booze, probably more, but, I mean, is the only real thing to take away from it all is that good clean alcohol just takes time? I mean, the thing was as clean and clear as a glass of water. The smell was gone and the taste was juicy and wet. I mean, I don't know, nobody at the reading was in to the idea of trying my Ticklers but that doesn't mean anything, not really. I mean, this is why Government is good. It keeps people from just dropping dead from things that regular idiots like me create and then give away to anybody that has a wild hair and is willing to try my "Experiments" as the bridesmaids say. I mean, imagine not knowing what is going to happen if you open a can of Coke or whatever? "Here we go." You would say to yourself. I mean, nope. You wouldn't. I mean, this is a little like the math lesson from before. You would not. For good reason! Because, why would you bother? I mean, I wouldn't bother. I am not going to die for a can of Coke. I don't care if it only costs a dollar. If there is no regulation on that shit, I mean, what the hell? I mean, I am not saying that my Ticklers are causing people to get aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrlhohogh;;;;;;;;;;;;

Whoops, I just died. That is some Oregon Trail shit. What can you do? But the Ticklers are as clear as a babies bottom as the bridesmaids would say. There are maple trees to tap tomorrow and I need to get my shit together for racist Albany on Sunday. I mean, I am exhausted there is much more to say, but I will leave it for later.