What is YOUR Pizza?: 2009-06-07

13 June 2009

today's stats

wake-up: 2 pm (10 hours non-continuous sleep)

breakfast: dry off-brand cheerios (honey-nut)

set daily goal: do not die (thusfar successful, relatively)

Kinda hesitant to go out today. I think I'm afraid of running into John and Linda. Which is silly and dumb. But I've learned my gut usually knows what it's talking about. My instincts may be ridiculous, anti-social, and stupid, but they usually have a somewhat good reason for it.

Somewhat.

So, thusfar I've done what I usually do when something's troubling me but I can't think of a damn reason why. I try to find that reason while exploring various resting positions on the air mattress.

Had a pretty sweet double-bent-knee opposite-spread with waist half-twist, backside going on when the first of the pieces started falling into place. (Yes, I visualize my mental processes as tetris pieces.) Okay, the world has gone crazy. By now, I'm about as cool with that as I'm gonna be. But even with all the craziness, it has thusfar had a logical impact on my life.

interim activity: thumb through the PDGA magazine backwards. Wonder if any of the mail-order-disc stores advertized are still operating.

late lunch: beef jerky (far more acceptable as a main course ever since the attacks. Is meat, is nigh-nonperishable, is ubiquitous to convenience stores.)

Was perfecting my left-facing deadman with reverse-akimbo arms when the next lines came together. So there's craziness. Big deal. But until last week, the craziness wasn't controlling my life. Wasn't affecting me directly. The events in my individual existence were natural outcomes to the equations set up by the world. But lately the world's been feeding me 2 + 2 and I'm coming up with 5.

To listen to Mr. Welsh is to believe my + and I have become overnight sensations in DC. Hints that President Lee himself chose our spot to run the night of his address. On our first project together? Really?

Okay well maybe we did a good job. I do feel like we did a good job. I love the copy. So even that could have been assimilated into the natural flow of Things.

Something still missing though. Like when you get one of those funky z-blocks and no place to drop it. Always leaves that awkward little gap.

might have happened now: dozed off for half an hour? Maybe?

dinner: cheapo frozen pizza. Like, the (formerly) $1/box one, not the $1.30/box one. Always preferred the cheaper ones, crust got crisper than those the next step up.

dessert: a few marshmallows. God I love marshmallows. Fluffy sweet perfection.

By this time was reduced to fine-tuning the right-facing sideways fetal. Been a while since I've put so much effort into professional positioning.

Okay, things got a little weird when I saw the fruits of my labor on national TV. But even that had fallout that was even weirder. The whole John thing. I'm not CLOSE close to them, but close enough to be more than a little shaken the night they came for him. But then, to be told that because he wanted me to be happy and productive, Mr. Welsh had single-handedly reinstated John's citizenship and saved him from a hazily-defined deportation?

(Now we're getting somewhere now there's a nice little trough on the side and a l-block coming up next I think I've got this...)

For me, Mr. Welsh had sliced through who knows how much red tape in a time when the red tape is toughening to near-steel strength. For me...or for what I've done?

For what I've done, and have the potential to do later?

Am I in debt to this guy now?

BAM TETRIS WHOLE SCREEN CLEAR LEVEL UP FANFARE OF SUCCESS

Why does that thought feel so ominous? That's it though; that's what's bothering me. I feel like I'm in some insane debt to my boss. But he's shown no sign of this being an issue...given me no reason to feel like I should worry about being in his debt. So he did me a favor, right? People do that sometimes.

But of this magnitude?

I don't know. But some of the things he's said, the ease with which he accomplishes things, the complete confidence in a time of national uber-uncertainty...it just feels WEIRD man.

Okay so maybe it is time I started fitting myself for a tinfoil hat. But I got a safeguard. I got this figured out. If I were REALLY paranoid, if I REALLY believed things were far deeper than the little divot they usually are, then why the hell would I post this online? Especially considering my position?

No, this is my litmus. Everything's fine.

official end of forced consciousness: thinking maybe around 3 am, depends really

daily goal status: successful (pending...)

First

12 June 2009

First

So I realized something today. These deportations. Where, exactly, do those unlucky enough to not have randomly important friends end up? I mean, are they just kinda being kicked out, shown the door, and told to have a good life, don't come back? Who would take them? And how many ended up being deported?

And why aren't we hearing more about this? I mean, it seems a pretty harsh way to deal with POTENTIALLY illegal immigrants. But then...I guess it's meant to weed out terrorist elements?

Drastic times, drastic measures?

And God I don't know how I feel about what happened. I mean, I'm glad. I'm glad that I could help John. But...what's going on, when the whim of a sleep-deprived copywriter dictates the future of some random guy?

Maybe some things just shouldn't be questioned too much?

First

11 June 2009

First

Yeah. Today.

Lunch couldn't come too soon to interrupt a horribly inefficient, unproductive morning. The +mates kept to their parts of the project after I explained what had happened the night before, respecting the fact that I'd be pretty much useless for a while.

So I snuck away a few minutes early to find a nice quiet corner in the cafeteria. But about halfway into the turkey and cheese on rye, my boss sat down across from me.

"I see we've got deli meats in again."

"Small blessings." Worked up a small smile, gotta show some interest in the boss and all.

"Hm." Momentary silence. "So what's eating my master marketer, then? You feeling alright?"

Shook my head. "Nope. No sleep last night. My neighbor...."

"Some frisky young'uns making you jealous, hm? Heh! You should move out anyway, you'll be able to afford much better if your work keeps grabbing this level of attention."

"Not that. Heart-rending wails of desperation, more like."

"Difference being...?"

Cut my eyes at him, sharp as razors. In retrospect, not a good idea towards the guy who's your lifeline. To his credit, he immediately looked apologetic.

"You're serious, then. What happened?"

Filled him in. The whole story, from why John and Linda were out of town, all the way up to last night. At the end he sat there for a bit. Finally,

"His name's John Burgess, you say? A good friend, then?"

"Closest thing to friends I've had here for a while."

Another pause. Then, slapping the table, he stood. "Come by my office after work. We can't afford to have you out-of-sorts, now can we?" A smile, a pat on the shoulder, a genuine impression of concern.

Of course, after that, I was even more useless. On top of being an emotionally-troubled zombie, I now had to deal with puzzlement over what Mr. Welsh wanted with me.

Beat my head against the keyboard periodically. This was in hopes of accomplishing at least one of two things: rendering myself unconscious, or randomly piecing together some decent copy and thus salvage a rotting, moldering waste of a day.

Finally gave up on the day and made my way to Mr. Welsh's office. Got a "Come in!" almost before I knocked.

"One Mr. Johnathan T. Burgess is currently having his background thoroughly examined. Provided all is clean and clear, he will be given late re-registration privileges and allowed to return home by next week."

Still standing in the doorway. Bit confused. "Wait, so...he wasn't going to be deported?"

"Oh yes, he was very much on his way out of the country. I'm not sure where, so I can't say he's NECESSARILY better off, but thanks to you he'll be able to remain here with his wife."

Collapsed into the chair he gestured to in front of his desk. Cushy leather deal, dark brown. Very upper-executive. "Oh thank--wait. Thanks to who?"

"You, of course."

"Me? What I do?"

"You told me about him. But to be more precise, you've proven your worth." He leaned forward, hands in front, fingers interlocked and pointing in my direction. "The way things are right now, we have to help those whose help we need in return."

I can only imagine the face I made. Take utter confusion, blend with a suffocating need for sleep, top with the light sweetness of good news. The message got across though.

"Heheh, don't worry about it right now, son. You keep doing good work here and come to me whenever you have any problems, alright?" Fatherly smile.

Felt like I was supposed to nod there, so I did.

"I'd give you tomorrow off, but like I said, we need your help. The curfew isn't going to sell itself. Go home and get some rest, alright?"

Nodded again.

"...Mr. Wall...?"

Nod.

"...you can go home now."

Nod.

Mr. Welsh inclined his head toward his door.

Oh right. Got up and shambled out. Then remembered something and stuck my head back in.

"Don't...don't tell them about this, alright? I don't want...it just...I..."

A smile. "Not a problem."

First

10 June 2009

First

I think they came for John.

I can't sleep for Linda's wailing.

She won't answer her door.

I'm gonna be a wreck at work tomorrow.

Not that I'm in any position to complain.

First

09 June 2009

First

Hey you remember when bananas were 69 cents/lb.?

Hey you remember when you could still BUY bananas?

Man I miss me some bananas.

One could say I'm going...

...hungry every morning. Because I eat...ate them for breakfast. You know. Back then.

See bet you thought I was going to make a bad joke. But I didn't. And yet...is that in itself a bad joke?

Deep thoughts.

So guess whose job it is to put a positive spin on this nationally-imposed curfew? Yeah. I mean, I have to hand it to whoever it was that gave the job specifics: they made sure to clarify that the project was more than just informing the populace. "Subtle and unique methods of encouraging cooperation are sought," Cam relayed.

"In other words, another serving of our usual."

Which makes sense. People are more cooperative when they think they're doing something they want to do. Just ask any parent.

We're competing with several other PSA groups nation-wide, though Mr. Welsh has been hinting that we'll be given first-glance until and unless we start to slip. Which is reassuring, because I'm enjoying this.

It's a pretty neat little mental exercise. First, I have to find a way to convince myself that whatever I'm making the public aware of is something I firmly believe is a good idea. I mean, in general I have no major gripes with the policies...may not like them, but I can see the good and potential necessity in them.

Anyway, convince myself that it's not just a necessary evil, but a downright brilliant idea. Then I write out whatever arguments I used. Bounce them around the +. Wash, rinse, repeat.

I don't wanna reveal too much about what we've come up yet for the curfew, but progress is being made. Elle seems to be having a little trouble with this one though. "Too much a night owl, guys," she apologizes.

I sympathize. You only have to look at the timestamps to see why. I'm usually not asleep for a good 2-3 hours after writing. But by now I'm used to being home in time to get these entries down around the time the curfew would kick in anyway.

Least there was a full moon to enjoy last night.

First

08 June 2009

First

With the State of the Nation speech out of the way, let's turn to the State of the City.

Vitals: Gas around the $6/gal mark. Milk similar. Bread remains cheap, though non-regional produce is literally impossible to find now.

National chain restaurants are menu crapshoots. Every day items available for order change. With no way to communicate inventory needs, it's impossible for necessary shipments to arrive in as timely a fashion as before.

A shame. I coulda really gone for some popcorn chicken tonight.

Of course, the same problem carries over to all stores. The good news out of all of this, however, is that shipments ARE arriving. Fears of running out of supplies are starting to subside a bit.

Due to the attacks though, people have stopped spending. Saving up just-in-case. There was a minor boom just after the attacks; people stocking up on survival necessities (hm, should maybe rethink my choice of words). But now everybody's holding their breath and their wallets to see where we go from here. And with money freezing up, jobs are drying up. Unemployment's skyrocketing. In response I hear some local property owners are giving rent holidays to recently laid-off tenants, but of course not everybody's so kind. So homelessness is up as well.

Will be interesting to see how the homeless are dealt with once the curfew kicks in.

Other than that, people are settling into a routine that resembles the pre-attack rhythm. More walkers and cyclists now, less rush and noise, but there are hints of a return to life.

Maybe some good has come from all this. Hard to argue against it when rush-hour traffic jams are a thing of the past.

Anyway, gonna go out to find a place to stare at the stars and the lightning bugs for a few hours while I still have the opportunity.

G'nite.

First

07 June 2009

First

"There you are!"

"hu--OOF! Hey Chris."

Dude can give a backpound with the best of 'em.

Cramped wooden tables between wall and stools. Green hooded lights hang from the ceiling. Dark bar atmosphere, minus the smoke. City outlawed smoking in public buildings a few months before the attacks. Personally thankful for that, though it does take a bit away from the otherwise noir feeling The After typically has. The post-5/6 haze that's replaced it, however, is just as carcinogenic.

Bursting through it, nova-esque, is the table where my +mates are at. Cam waved us over. Elle too, smile as bright as her now-orange hair.

Orange? Why?

They stood and we all shook hands, smiled, hugged, celebrated, etc'ed.

"Brilliant idea! This is all you man."

"Nah, nothing would've come of it without your touches."

"You realize the project's been renamed because of us? Guns for Hope?"

"God, how corny."

"But it's OUR corn."

"Tastes the sweetest!"

"Cheers to that!"

And then James Welsh materialized.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you people that if you set the bar too high on your first try, you have to do even better later? Your work'll never be good enough for me after that display!"

His grin, however, was as genuine as his threat empty.

"Have your fill folks. Your spot is the national face of the Guns for Hope project, so relax while you can. We'll be doing local, regional, AND national projects from here on out. You've made a name for yourselves, and you'll see how important that is nowadays."

"Wouldn't have it any other way, sir." Cam nodded to our boss.

Conversation became informal after that, as James blended into the group. During the celebratory buzz, I nudged the quietest of the members.

"You manage to catch the rest of the address after the ad, Elle?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Chris mentioned you'd blanked after seeing it; I didn't believe him." Sip of her drink. "Guess he was being serious for once."

"Yeah, well, can't say much in my defense. But fill me in?"

"Hm. We've got a curfew starting next week. Midnight without a permit."

"Ew. Why?"

"Didn't say directly, though he gave the impression it tied into the same reasons for the Guns program. Trying to reduce some of the looting and lawlessness still going on. Preventative too, against further attacks."

"We really having that much of a problem nationally? I mean, isn't the looting mostly in the attacked cities?"

She shrugged. "I don't like the feeling of it, but who would? Still, everything that's been done so far has had a positive impact so I'm not going to argue." Brushes hair from face, then fingers tap drink glass. "Everything else was about telecom stuff."

"Damn, I missed that? They say anything about the internettage they promised, what, weeks ago?"

Blue eyes smile. "Geek. Jonesing for connectivity, hm?"

"Guilty. So...?"

Laughter. "Said they're still working on it. Trying to patch security holes that were exploited in the 5/6 attacks."

"Damn."

"Yeah. Local phone lines are back up though."

Twirl of my index finger. Whoopie. "Yeah, I noticed. But how can cell service be up locall--"

"Y'all need anything more to drink?" Cam leaned toward us, quite obviously well along in his celebrations.

"Nah man, I'm fine."

"Fine, thanks."

Chris jumped in. "C'mon you two, it's FREE! Stop being shy!"

"Son, are you trying to break me?" James chuckled good-naturedly.

"Hey, you offered!"

Elle turned back to me. "Yeah, I don't know the logistics, and it still seems spotty. But it's a small sign we're moving on. And...OH! The big thing. The President's starting a nationally-broadcast TV and radio station controlled by the White House to make it easier to keep the populace informed."

"And you know who's going to be producing the PSAs for the station, yes?" James leaned towards me.

Took a second for that to sink in. "W...wait. You mean we...?"

"Well, you all, plus other groups who submit good work, but you've definitely placed us at the front of the line."

"Huuuhhhh...."

An electric jolt. Elle patted my shoulder. Nail polish still the same as her last hair color. Guess she was in a rush? "Hey, job security. It's a good thing."

James smiled. "Cheers to that." Raised glass.

"Cheers." All around.

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