Day 14: 25,528 Words, Becoming Fantôme, and Operation Hamster Wheel

I sailed through the writing today, largely because the teachers have to come up with an incredibly complex plan to counteract the administration's tyranny and it required a lot of explanation. I also had some absurd side journeys. I know you will appreciate an outfit description paired smartly with an update on the rewrites for Barnaby's production of Phantom of the Opera:

Gordon was dressed from head-to-toe in white- a sophisticated, expensive look. Anyone with eyes could see that he had put a cool-girl twist on the comfy-chic pants trend that had dominated the fashion world since 2020, when everyone collectively decided that pants with buttons and zippers were for saps. Give me comfort or give me death was the mantra of aficionados of the comfy-chic trend. Gordon had selected a pair of silky white pants with a cool split hem and stretchy waistband (a must to perfect the comfy-chic look), a matching long sleeve top, mesh ballet flats, and a gorgeous silky white ankle length cape that was expertly tailored to move almost as a separate entity from the wearer. 

Windigo emerged from the back room and approached Gordon. While everyone else looked agog at the spectacle that was Gordon, Windigo’s keen eyes were searching for flaws. Finding none, they declared: “It’s perfect for the third act.” The teachers chastised themselves silently for not immediately recognizing the outfit as one of Windigo’s creations (except for Berto, who of course had recognized that immediately). While Windigo greeted the teachers from Barnaby who they had not seen since their firing, Gordon explained to James Van Der Beek, who looked confused.

“Windigo, Roberto, and I have been engaged in significant re-writing of the play ‘Phantom of the Opera,’” Gordon said, using scare quotes around the title. “In our latest rewrite, we have changed the title to Becoming Fantôme: Breaking Through the Paradox of Being Un-Alive and the Internal Panopticon.” Gordon finished, as though that explained everything.

James still looked confused. Perhaps because he was thinking about the 2004 film adaptation of the novel, starring Gerard Butler (best known for being thirsty as fuck, and not in a good way) and Emmy Rossum. “Isn’t that about a guy being shunned by the world and then feeling entitled to stalk and kidnap a young woman?” he asked, not drawing the immediate connection between that and anything that Gordon was wearing or had said.

“Yes, exactly,” Gordon replied. “But in late stage capitalism, have we not all been ‘shunned’ by the world and internalized the panopticon? Endlessly surveilling and controlling ourselves? Have we not stalked and kidnapped ourselves? We think we are hiding behind our masks, but in fact, we have become our masks. In this exploration of the classic themes of alienation and longing, we reject this and become fantôme. And if vampyres explore the nature of ‘being un-dead,’ then does it not stand that humans should explore the nature of ‘being un-alive?’” James had to admit he had a point.

“You have a point,” he said.

A quick excerpt for some much insider EsNoWriMo references:

Cass drew a quick sketch that no one could decipher.

“Is that a dog smoking a joint while drinking a glass of wine on a skateboard?” Berto asked, helpfully.

“Ooooh! I got it! Fainting Goat!” Parm shouted unhelpfully.

All the teachers started to shout guesses, as though this were a rousing round of Pictionary. It was not. James quieted them down, once again demonstrating his excellent facilitation skills. 

“It’s a hamster wheel, I’m not an artist, okay!” she shouted defensively.

Windigo interjected. “Everyone is an artist, my love. Everyone.”

“Or an artiste!” Gordon declared. Cass wondered for a moment if he was flirting with Windigo, as everyone knows that correcting someone is one of the top forms of flirting. People love to be corrected.

Then to close it out, a glimpse of the plan. Lots of fire metaphor here, maybe it will give you some ideas, Katie?

"The administration is lighting all these little fires. Oh, the wifi isn’t working, oh there’s this VIP wifi network that’s password protected and we don’t have the password, oh we don’t have ‘books’ or ‘supplies’ any more, oh, the photocopier’s broken,” she said, in a surprisingly good imitation of the wheedling tone of frustrated teachers everywhere. “We run around like assholes trying to put out all of these little fires, wasting our energy,” (she pointed to her terrible sketch) “going around and around and around. They can do this. All. Day. Meanwhile, we aren’t paying attention to the massive blaze which is our hopes and dreams. Our compelling vision,” she said, pointing to the circle on the chart paper. “Our compelling vision is going up in smoke and we’re arguing about VIP Wifi Networks and Foucauldian Discourse Analysis Aids.” The teachers looked crestfallen. They had been chumps.

“Hey, don’t beat yourselves up!” Cass said, correctly reading the room. “We have been fighting the good fight, but we’ve been fighting on their terms.” The teachers looked at each other and started to squint while nodding vigorously. They were most definitely picking up what Cass was putting down.

“It’s time for us to light some fires of our own,” she said, and she saw smiles spreading across the faces of her colleagues and co-conspirators. 

"We are going to light 100 little fires, so they don’t even notice that while they’ve been running around like assholes, trying to put them out, we have set the biggest fire of all,” she said, pointing to the circle labeled ‘Unbearable Now’. “We light 100 little fires so they don’t notice the big ass fire that’s burning their house down.”