jonberger

The One Percent’s trying to keep me down
by selling my information
to the other One Percenters.
You’d think the evil supervillains
would keep all the data in one big evil database
to share with each other
so they don’t have to bother selling to one another,
but I guess that’s capitalism for you:
insidious to the last drop.

If I could sell the database idea to the One-ers,
I could probably join their sinister club,
but would I really want to do that?
Isn’t it better that I maintain my autonomy
and work against the system from the outside?

Do any of you by chance know the number to the One Percent?

Jim says you gotta keep doing what you’re doing
but he always says this.
You wonder if this is how he talks to everybody
or if this is a personal positivity training he gives only to you.
You kind of doubt it.

He says that your work is special,
that your self-effacement is meaningful,
and that if you keep pushing through,
someone is going to notice.
He doesn’t say who and he doesn’t say how
but he remains optimistic.

He always does.

You don’t know how he does it
or why
but Big Jim always has a smile on his face
– a big dopey smile.
Maybe it’s the dope.
Probably it’s the dope.

Maybe it’s good to talk to Jim.

Jim tells you to keep going.

You do.

My first leather jacket was vinyl.
A bomber, probably inspired by Catch-22,
long before I read it.
Maybe Airplane, now that I think about it.
That makes more sense.

It lasted for about a year and a half.
The jacket got shredded by the environment eventually.
Vinyl doesn’t last, but only petrochemicals died for it,
so there’s that.

After that, I wanted another bombardier jacket,
but this time made of real live suffering animal.
I waited years, and then no longer cared for that style.

It took some more years to find interest
in a biker jacket,
which I got for about thirty dollars
at a point where that was a ridiculously good deal.
It was far too good a deal.

The jacket was leather,
but I wouldn’t dare to wonder what kind of animals it was made from.
Maybe rat skins?
It took longer to fall apart that my original bomber,
but not much.

My second jacket only cost fifty,
but it’s rugged.
It’s got a weird patchwork style
and I suspect it’s been made from bears or something.
Maybe rhinoceri.

I don’t really know much about the tanning industry.

I love the jacket,
even if I don’t feel too good about wearing leather.
Not that I have the courage of my convictions.

You have failed in your mission in a fairly critical way.
You’d like to apologize but you don’t know what to say.
Perhaps you can rectify the situation now
but you can’t complete the project – not in time, anyhow.

If you continue working, maybe you’ll plod through
but the deadline still has passed, no matter what you do.
Still, you might feel better, if you work all through the night.
Is it worth it for the value? You’re not positive. It might…

It is time now for decisions. Choose to give up or go on.
Will you sink into your shame or get off the pot here, Jon?
The answer’s now for making: no time to be a jerk.
If you start up now this minute you just might finish work.

You’re right. I’m sorry.
If I loved you more, I would have made the effort.
If I loved you more, I would have tried harder.
If I loved you more, I would have cried when you cheated, instead of shrugging.
If I loved you more, I wouldn’t have driven you to it.

If I loved you more, we wouldn’t be here, oppositional, I suppose.
We’d be on the same side.
You’ve made your point; you’ve won.
I’m not quite sure if the prize is worth it,
but congratulations.

This night is ours.
We have the whole evening to spend
however we want
to live, to love
to discuss where we are
and what’s gone wrong.

I have my theories, of course,
and you have your silly little hypotheses.
We can hash them out
over wine and withering debate.
My idea of a delightful time.

This used to go so well.
We used to sparkle.
We used to sizzle.
Now, are fractured,
and we don’t know if this can be fixed.

That is, unless you listen
to my very profound theory.
Here we go…

It’s been a while,
but they’re acting up again there
in Squirrel City
and the leaders of the movement
are saying “Nuts to the dogs!
And fuck the red-tailed hawks!”

They’re looking for more acorns,
less child harassment,
and an expansion of Squirrel City’s borders.
The meeting is at night.
If the rangers hear the squeaking meeting
they’ll likely put their feet down
and seek to eradicate the City.

It wouldn’t be their first try.

“We must fight for the rights of Squirrel City!”
Some white maned guy is going,
and everybody roars
– but quietly, so as not to arouse further suspicion.

There’s gonna be some trouble coming soon.
Just you watch.

Hi from me in the future.
I just wanted to reach out to you back then and say,
“You’re really fucking it up.
Don’t do that. The fate of me lies in your hands,
and if you don’t change course,
the universe, too!”

Kidding. Who knows how this time travel stuff works?
I just got this shade wormhole to reach out to me, and I thought I’d give it a shot. Anyhoo…
Maybe thought I could provide some words of wisdom
from some time coming up. You can take it all with a grain of salt.
After all, what do I know? It’s only the goddamn FUTURE, after all!?!

So: Sweat the small stuff. It all counts, and you won’t know what specific issue
is going to prove especially important until it smacks you straight in the gut fifteen hours later.
Remember that thing with the Milk of Magnesia?
Maybe that hasn’t happened yet. Don’t worry about it. Moving on…
Think about your limitations, and be sure to always stay within them.
If you ever seek to stretch, failure is all there is. Trust me: I’ve seen the future
and I know what will be.

Find love wherever you can
but make love only with state-mandated partners.
If that’s not a thing yet, just wait a few weeks. It’ll be coming soon enough.
If you still believe you’re one hundred percent heterosexual,
you might as well start practicing otherwise, for the state-enforced gay stuff.
It’s six months away, tops.

Let’s see… climb every mountain…
look at beautiful paintings in their natural habitat…
only burn them if the voices are insistent…
tofu scrambles on third Sundays can be fatal…
That might be everything!

All right, looks like you’ve got the total download now.
Good luck, me,
Can’t wait to be you
February after next.

I’m not sure you understand.
If I put my phone away
I will not be able to take notes on what happens today.
If I don’t take notes
I won’t be able to write witty things
on the spur of the moment.
Without writing witty things,
what happens to my poetry,
the amazing things
that one and a half people comment on
every month or so?

How could you suggest I let my fan down?

It is thus impossible
that I leave my phone out of my sight.
I need constant access
in case I say something witty
or someone else says something witty
that I might be able to repurpose.

The second is a much more likely circumstance, yes.

Much much more likely.

Eventually, next Summer, I will grow a plant.
Eventually, next Summer, I shall become an emperor.
Eventually, next Summer, California will burn, but I will not be there
to see it.
Eventually, next Summer, my whining will finally seem charming
to someone.
Eventually, next Summer, I will find an ice cream that agrees with me.

Eventually, next Summer, you will agree with me about Palestine.
Eventually, next Summer, I will have a cogent position on Palestine.
Eventually, next Summer, Palestine will be in a safer situation.
Eventually, next Summer, I will meet a girl who calls herself Winter,
and she will not agree to see 500 Days of Summer with me
and that’ll be just fine.

Eventually, next Summer, everything’ll be all right.