It started with me taking a job in California – as a writer or researcher. But my office was too loud or annoying to get any work done, so I went for a walk, looking for a park or somewhere sunny to write.
When I got to the park, the corporation who owned it wouldn’t let me write there, so I kept going and ended up in a corporate complex of some sort, where I just plopped myself down at a desk and started writing.
After a while, I started talking to the people who worked there, who – as it turns out – were being treated no better than slaves. And I started doing research to figure out how much money they were owed.
(Odd interlude of me walking around a deserted, unpaved road with much foliage and bears and little creatures of the forest.)
So, I drew up this list of demands to hand to the boss-man and he read them, then he painted this 60’s flower power sign and painted “NO!” all over it. I asked the workers if they wanted to strike to continue the fight…and they did.
Cut to a house decorated in 70’s kitsch, with all the workers gathered. Jerry Garcia was singing into a phone message machine…something about the time between Halloween and Christmas (oddly enough, when my baby is due). Abby Hoffman was lecturing the workers on the “workers united will never be divided”, and Noam Chomsky was making me a cup of tea.
Ha! Figure that one out Freud!