A Thousand Plateaus

hmmm, had nightmares again :o(

had an unpleasant conversation yesterday. when i came to the office i found a post-it sticking to my computer screen and it said “boss wants to see you. N-O-W-!”. so i just threw my jacket into the corner, stopped shortly by the bathroom to check my shirt and haircut and then knocked at the ante-room of the boss’ office. his secretary’s voice ordered me in.

“hi rose.” i said shyly, waving the note “the boss wants to see me?”
“yes, he’s asked for you several times.” she opened the office door and murmured
“phil’s here to see you…”
“oh yeah!” a voice came from inside “send him in, for crying out loud!”
“he’d be happy to see you now” rose translated and opened the door a little more. i went in.

“you wanted to talk to me, sir?”
“don’t ’sir’ me, man!” he grunted. “you know that everybody around here calls me thomas.” and he added in a lower voice, leaning over the desk towards me :
“except for rose, but she *is* a little, hm, peculiar - if you know what i mean…” and he drew little circles with his index finger in the air next to his temple.
“take a seat, man!” and while he was sorting a couple of loose sheets i looked around his office. it was decorated rather tastefully. one wall was covered by three carl farbman book shelves filled with expensive looking books (none of them paperback!), and there were two eve laramee drawings (which looked like originals and might as well have been) hanging on the opposite wall. his desk was filled with papers and between them a wooden picture frame stuck out that showed a rather beautiful woman and a small boy, about ten years old. then i saw his monitor. my blog-page was open. that alarmed me and i instantly started to sweat. eventually he turned to me.

“care for a banana breakfast?” and he was winking at me wildly as if i wouldn’t get the joke on my own.
“no, thanks. i just had a muffin top.”
“okay.” and he picked up the phone and said “rose? my banana breakfast and two coffees please.” then he said:
“so, phil, we’ve got to talk. you’re doing quite a good job here, and you’re with the company for, what, like almost two years now, right?” and he was gazing at what seemed to be my personal file. he didn’t wait for my affirmation of this rather exact estimation.
“the nerds from the tech-dep have sent me the access statistics for your blog and according to these figures you have managed to attract a modest but faithful readership. and what’s more, you have them emotionally involved in the blog. that’s what we like to see here: decent writing with identification value! that’s what the sponsors like. don’t let this get to your head, but your blog is always among the 30 to 35 sample pages that i’m showing the executives when i’m trying to secure a deal with a new advertising partner…”
“i’m glad that my work is useful for the company.” i threw in.
“recently, however, there seems to have been some problems…”
“problems?”
“yes. we have received quite a number of complaints about the blog, mostly criticizing the recent turn of events. here, for example …” and he fished out a handwritten letter “not that this is representative, but it shows you what i’m talking about…” and he read it to me:
“‘dear editor-in-chief of blog.com,
now i ain’t no literally critic, but this 100 plateaus story really sucks.’
or here another reader is commenting:
‘i used to follow this online journal attentively and with great pleasure. but lately the events described seemed to me too far-fetched and made-up…’“. he let the pages slide back into the sea of paper and leaned back. i didn’t really know what to say.

“hey man, i know that you have set up a high standard for your blog. some of your colleagues go the easy way: tits and ass and cheap sex and you can be sure to attract internet traffic. i’m aware that you’re ambitious. and that’s quite alright. but let’s face it : we *have* to think about the company here. the blog’s not there for your own literary aspirations. these you have to realize at home. listen, i know it’s not easy, and when *i* started, i had similar problems to see the work here as a job only. but that’s what one needs to do, and eventually i managed. the trick is to compose the blog according to the company’s policy of writing, and then at night you can write your own great american novel. that’s how i did it, and it turned out okay, both for the job and for the novel. you’ve got to draw a line…” and again he was winking “…a line between your ambition and what the readers can put up with. and, let’s be honest, the last few entries were just a little too arbitrary and … weird.”

and while he said this he was scrolling down the blog on the monitor.
“i mean people’s faces on billboards and the tv, and text messages from ex-girlfriends who you reintroduce out of blue without any contextualizing and without any apparent reason, and swiss-italian filmmakers turning up everywhere. it’s really drifting into a kind of magic realism. and all these little extra projects that the story requires, like that paula blog that you’ve set up…”
“but…” i meant to protest.
“don’t get me wrong : that’s not bad, and i’m all for intertextuality and complex writing, but the blog is not quite the place for that. i *do* have a responsibility towards the company and therefore i have to ask you to tone it down a little. the suits in charge said that we might have to assign you to a different project if you don’t get the hang of it.”

i didn’t really know what to say and there was an awkward pause in which the faint ringing of the secretary’s phone was sounding through the room. finally thomas said:
“now, cheer up, man! just re-read the blog-manual we gave you when you started here : self-pity and juvenile writing, that’s what people want to read. you know, stuff that makes them feel better about their *own* lives!”
“so you mean i should maybe get rid of some of the characters? maybe a car accident. the s. character could have a car accident?”
“no, no, no! you’ve got to do it in a subtle way! an accident would just be another arbitrary turn of the plot. you have to give them a reason why the story changes, why you alter the mood, why you’re writing in a different way!”

“mr. pennypacker from new jersey on line two for you, mr. pynchon!” the secretary announced, leaning in the doorway.
“okay, phil! i’ve got to get back to business now. so you’re promising me to adhere more to the company’s writing policy, will ya?”
“yes, yes, of course!” i said getting up “and i really appreciate your feedback and advice. thanks a lot, sir”
“ah!” he shouted, having halfway picked up the receiver and looking mock frowningly at me.
“i mean, thanks a lot, thomas!”
“that’s better!” and then shouting into the phone:
“pennypacker, you old son of a bitch! how’s life down in vineland?”