YouTube: https://youtube.com/watch?v=DD-h7DaDn3k
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View count:13,933
Likes:1,539
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Duration:22:09
Uploaded:2023-09-27
Last sync:2024-12-22 02:00

Citation

Citation formatting is not guaranteed to be accurate.
MLA Full: "pizzamas day 2." YouTube, uploaded by vlogbrothers, 27 September 2023, www.youtube.com/watch?v=DD-h7DaDn3k.
MLA Inline: (vlogbrothers, 2023)
APA Full: vlogbrothers. (2023, September 27). pizzamas day 2 [Video]. YouTube. https://youtube.com/watch?v=DD-h7DaDn3k
APA Inline: (vlogbrothers, 2023)
Chicago Full: vlogbrothers, "pizzamas day 2.", September 27, 2023, YouTube, 22:09,
https://youtube.com/watch?v=DD-h7DaDn3k.
http://pizzamas.com

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Hello.

It may be day 2 of Pizzamas and I may be very tired from having done a gig here at the University of Florida, but I'm not gonna let that stop me from doing my job and keeping my commitment to a Pizzamas video livestream every day. So.

Tonight... This morning I flew down to the University of Florida, and today I have done a college talk. I hope it went okay.

If any of y'all are from the University of Florida, I hope you enjoyed the evening. I certainly did. It was really good, the audience was amazing.

So much depends on the audience with that stuff, and, um, it was great. And now I'm very tired, but I'm keeping my commitment to do a livestream every night until the end of Pizzamas. So, it's been a really good day 2 of Pizzamas, in fact it's been the best day 2 of Pizzamas in the history of Pizzamas.

Um, by a pretty wide margin. So, yesterday we surpassed our best day ever by about, like, 18%, and today we surpassed our best day---our best day 2 ever---by almost 50%, if I'm not mistaken, so, um. Even better today, which speaks to the fact that Hank's video was really good, and also, um, that maybe my video yesterday wasn't that good. [laughs] Is what I would---that's what I would chalk it up to, at any rate.

But yeah, it was a really, really good day today. Um, and...yeah. What are my thoughts on Hank---and maybe it was because Hank had a mustache.

Hold on, I'm gonna come over here, I'm in bed in my hotel room. Um, I thought Hank's mustache was really bad. Yeah.

Um, it looks like Minneapolis-based rapper Prof. I don't know how many of you are familiar with Prof. Rapper from the south side of Minneapolis.

Um, here, I'll put a link in the---the chat to, uh, where's a good Prof song that I could link to that's not too offensive. Um... Prof doesn't really lend himself to safe-for-work kinda stuff.

Here, we'll do this, uh...we'll do this. I mean, I still wouldn't say this is utterly safe-for-work, but it's...it's safer-for-work. So that's Prof, and you can watch that at any time.

I shouldn't probably be, um, advertising other people, I should be advertising Pizzamas. pizzamas.com. But, um, yeah, I thought his mustache looked pretty bad. But not as bad as mine.

That's my review. Um, both of our mustaches are bad. But yeah so it was a long day, and tomorrow I have to make a Pizzamas video which is gonna be about my strange, surreal visit to the United Nations, and I'm gonna get up real early before my flight and make that video, at least get it recorded.

I brought my good microphone to the battle, and so I'm just gonna record it in the morning. This hotel room is extremely echo-y as you might be able to hear, there's like nothing but hard surfaces, the floor is some kind of faux wood, and the walls have nothing on them, so like it's really not a good place to record a video but I also don't have any choice, that's the nature of Pizzamas. And yeah, so I might make a blanket fort and just record it inside the blanket fort.

But it's gonna be about the kind of day leading up to my speech at the United Nations, and then, hopefully it might include the speech itself. "is there a chance that we'll get a Pizzamas video including 'the format'?", oh yeah, probably I think there will be at least one format video from both of us. I'm tempted to make a format video tomorrow, but I'm probably just gonna do this thoughts from places because it'll be... Actually it won't be easier, I was gonna say it'll be easier but it won't be, the format will be easier, but it's just what I'm gonna do.

We've had four people order Pizzamas in the last minute from Eric, Shara, Gieslle and Kelly, thanks to all of you. Shara bought the most, Shara bought the "He's Just John" shirt which we just released today, the "Eras" shirt, both the pink and the black "He's Just John" shirts, that's a real commitment to Barbie, and the Pizza John scrunchy pack. Thank you so much!

And then since then Kai and Aryan both bought things as well, so thanks for going to Pizzamas.com,raising money to support the independent artists who contribute to Pizzamas but also, most importantly from my perspective, to support better TB diagnostics and treatments in impoverished communities. I've got four Pizzamas videos left so I'm sure I can squeeze in a format at some point.  It was a really lovely day actually. I was a little nervous about having to come down here and speak, and I haven't done a...

You know I haven't done an event like this in years, really, I did one at Brown University maybe a year ago. But this felt different, it was a big room and, just really lovely, lovely people, and really well organized, so very grateful to everybody who was there tonight. I really enjoyed it and I felt like...

Yeah. "What about Sierra Leone?" So, these are the Awesome Socks, and the money from them, and most of DFTBA's profit goes to support maternal health in Sierra Leone, and we think that's enough, we think we have enough to support the MCOE at the level that we need to, and so we're looking to do more, and for Pizzamas this year that means trying to reach a little bit into the world of tuberculosis, but with a lot of the same organizations, and certainly the same overall theory of change, for lack of a better term. We're very bought into, you know, Partners In Health' theory of change, that you have to strengthen the whole system not just make single vertical interventions, but instead invest in the system. Partner deeply with governments, partner deeply with the people who are actually providing care, to make sure that your'e doing a good job.

So that's the focus for us. And with tuberculosis, it's really important because almost all tuberculosis care in impoverished countries comes from governments, it comes from state-run hospitals, and so investing in those systems and investing in those hospitals is really good news because it then becomes a stronger health care system that is held together collectively by the people of that country rather than being held in private hands that are trying to run a parallel system. So that's the theory.

Uhh, every shirt is a TB fighter shirt. But yeah maybe next year we'll have more time to do TB themes. So yeah, how am I doing personally, somebody asked, I'm good, but I'm really tired, it was...

You know, it's really fun, it's so fun to do that kind of thing, I really loved being with that crowd and feeling their energy, and just being, it feels like being with Nerdighteria in real life in some ways, it's really quite thrilling and fulfilling. But at the same time it's a little tiring, so I'm definitely tired too. Jessica says "so go to bed!", no, I'm not ready for bed Jessica, I gotta do my live show.

What did I talk about? I don't know, somebody and people in comments can probably tell you what I talked about, but it was really good, it was good. We talked about uh... all kinds of things.

From mental health, to book writing, to my favorite Taylor Swift song, there were a lot of different topics. So I'm not... Sombody said "you got to recharge your social battery", and that's true.

I do have to recharge my social battery a little bit, but it's not even that, it's also that I was in New York, you know, for like three days for the tuberculosis UN stuff- and my favorite Taylor Swift song is currently "Vigilante Shit"- it's not even that I was currently, it's not even being here, it's that I was just in New York for all the tuberculosis stuff at the United Nations, and that was really fun too, and really fulfilling. So sometimes you stretch yourself out a little bit, this is my experience anyway, socially, but it's worth stretching yourself out a little bit because you get such good, you know, it's so meaningful that, you know, I'll be tired when I get home and it'll be kinda hard to make that video tomorrow, but it worth it because I got a lot of fulfillment out of it. So yeah, definitely, definitely a good day.  "How do you read at the speed of the stream?" I don't know Sadie, I've been doing it for like seventeen years, so I'm pretty good at it now.

People are saying "I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired" so I'm gonna, I'm just gonna tell you to go to Pizzamas.com, Pizzamas.com, Pizzamas.com. Yesterday when I told you to go to Pizzamas.com there was huge boost in sales, so now I believe in my power, the power of the daily live streams, so I'm not gonna, I'm not gonna stop doing it. There are 304 visitors at the Pizzamas.com store right now, that's pretty great.

Hard to complain about that.  I'm gonna read you a chapter of the thing I'm working on. Umm yeah. It's called "The Trauma Plot".

You know how books have those... Your stories have those little quotes at the beginning of them? The quote from the beginning of this one is from Annie Ernaux, one of my favorite, favorite writers.

She wrote in her book

Shamed: "I've always wanted to write this sort of book that I find it impossible to talk about afterwards, the sort of book that makes it impossible for me to withstand the gaze of others". I think I'm probably gonna cut that quote out of the book before it's all said and done, but that's like, my guiding principal for writing this story, trying to write in a way that... Oh Sarah's awake. Let me text her real quick, hold on.

I have to... I'm trying to write a story that, you know, is that story for me, that I find impossible to talk about afterwards, that makes it impossible for me to withstand the gaze of others. I feel like that's a really high bar to set for myself, but that's also what I wanna do, you know, if I'm gonna write another novel I want it to be something like that, something that comes from the way down deep that I can't...

Yeah, that is as vulnerable as I can make myself as, as deep as I can take myself, you know as a.. What did Kafka said? I mean, look I know I'm not Annie or no Kafka but I'm trying to do the best that I can do withing the confines of my own talents and experience.

So anyway this is, well it'll be pretty obvious that it's semi-autobiographical from the first sentence, but it's also written in the second person.


 Reading of John's new work



You wrote the best selling American novel of 2018, but that was some time ago. Now you're sitting on the L, thinking about the other strangeness that you, a scraggly fellow of limited talents, are both physically traceable to the person who wrote that novel and utterly strange to him.

That man, years ago, wanted everything you have, and this man, this present you, wants for nothing except for what that previous man had. "Every tale is of yearning", as you once put it, back when you believed in such broadly declarative sentences. Now you're winding down toward the valley that lies on the other side of good fortune. You've lived the whole lottery plot, and you're only 28.

Everything after will be a coda, crammed into the last paragraph of the obituary. Johnson never matched the traumatized outpouring of his early 20s. He spent his later years in Chicago, where he lived comfortably, and alone, off his royalties.

According to his agent, Johnson's second novel, an account of the artist Andy Warhol's life, entitled "Andy Warhol Never Gets Old", remained unfinished at the time of his death. Or something like that.  An old woman sits in the corner of the train. She wears black orthotic shoes, and the thick hosiery of a generation past.

She hunches forward as if embracing the groceries in her black, two-wheeld cart. Her thin white hair has been recently blow dried. She looks like she used to have money, and can't forget the comfort it brought.

No, that's too pat. What does she look like? She wears a black coat for neck, and a hand knit scarf.

She looks like she stayed at a beach house in the summers when she was younger, for a couple weeks each year. Nantucket, maybe. Picture the room where she slept.

A double bed which she shared with her older sister. A completed jigsaw puzzle of Van Gogh's Sunflowers glued together and hung on the wall. Sea urchin wallpaper.

Now, imagine the worst day of her life. Her husband's death? No, too obvious.

And anyway, why have her defined by her worse day? Hemmed in by that memory. That's exactly what's wrong with your writing.  You keep glancing up at her, trying to turn her from an objects into a person.

No wedding ring, but she wears what looks like an emerald class ring. There are two stones missing from the ring. Her skin is grey and sags off her face.

You imagine that she has perhaps lost weight. You think about how gravity does this, how it pulls us back toward the ground from which we came. But no, you're trying to avoid faux scientific imagery, trying to be a bit harder boiled, shorter sentences.  So okay, she wasn't always thin.

She wears a class ring. Is it her ring? You decide it ought to be, otherwise it'd be the ring of a dead child or lover, and then we've got ourselves a mere trauma plot, which simply won't do.

It's her class ring, she attended her 60th high school anniversary not long ago, she was astonished by how many people she recognized, how many 77 year olds, still looked plausibly like themselves. It could be a marriage plot. Maybe she met an old friend at the reunion, and something sparked.

But can she love love like she used to? It's different when you know the costs. That might be something, if only you knew anything about being old, or for that matter, about being in love.

Suddenly, in real life, the old woman looks up at you. The train is mostly empty. You realize why she's in a corner, her back against two separate walls, she's scared of you.

The young (ish) man, stealing glances at her. "Sorry," you mumble. You wonder how to communicate to her that you are utterly ineffectual and impotent. "I'm a writer," you blurt out. And this woman on the train smiles.

You're between stops, sunshine streaming in through the south-facing windows, rumbling past the apartments of Lincoln Square. She's still staring, still smiling, small gray teeth drifting apart from each other, like siblings in adulthood. God no, no more cheap fucking similes. "I know who you are, Mr.

Johnson," she says. That stopped you short. The chief pleasure of having once been a famous author is no one knows what you look like.

Because to them, you're mostly made out of text. "Well, hello then," you say. You stand up and walk over to her, reach out a hand. "I'm Mark Johnson," you say. The train sways, and you nearly lunge into her lap, but manage to catch one of the chrome poles in the middle of the empty train car. "You know Takiarkas Makapolis (?) ," she says. "Taxi?" you say.

He was a friend in college. Not quite a friend, actually. "Yeah of course, I remember Taxi, are you...? Yes, I am his friend.

I am his dear friend. That is what he calls me. Dear." She says Taksi's name correctly, like tock-see, whereas you always said it like taxicab.

Now, at last, she brings her hand toward yours. And as you shake, you feel the limp dry hand within yours and glance down at the yellowing nail beds with deep vertical ridges. You're surprised by a stigmatic prick in the center of your palm.

You snatch your hand away, wondering if you both were bit by a jolt of static electricity. This is wintertime Chicago, after all. But within a second, your face warms, blushing.

You're stoned. Something opiate-ish, spreading fast. A great calm branches through your chest, and you sit down on the sticky, filthy, gray-black floor of the train car.

You know this is a negative development in your life, but you've always enjoyed anesthesia. Now, you lie back. Best to.

You're going to sleep soon. Mind swimming. Nothing to think about, except it feels good.

Your face gets slapped, hard, bright, but you don't mind much. Still, you open your eyes and squint them into focus. The old lady, who now does not seem so old, stares down at you. "When you wake up, let Taksi know that Dearest needs to speak with him. You won't want to call anyone but Taksi. He'll know what to do. You sleep now. You sleep, you wake up, you find Taksi, you give him your phone, tell him Dearest needs him. Dearest, yes? Dearest."

You fight to stay conscious. Not so much because of Taxi, or the old woman, or fear, but because of the euphoric wave cresting over you. There will be another wave behind. If only you can stay awake for it.

You only ever think in words, not images, even the things you see are made out of words. When "Schooled" was first published, so many people wrote to you asking how you could have words for their experiences, how you could find language for it. But language is all you've ever been able to find.

You can only think of how to write things, not how they are. Christ, you're still thinking of him. Even now, as you feel yourself pulled under. He's been dead for years, and he still has his hands all over you. If you're not careful, your last thought will be devoted to him.

As you drift down, the words give way at last, and there is finally something to see. White ghoulish wisps slither into your nose. How can you see them with your eyes closed? You see them because you can see all of you. Because you are distant from you. An observer at last, seeing yourself as others see you. Look at you, a man in sweatpants and a plaid button-down, a black puffy coat that has never been warm enough. 

You're sprawled out on the floor of the brown line train in the city you love. It'll be over soon now. All the worry and ambition ends here. The race is run.

You watch as the woman inserts an old flip phone into your coat pocket and then zips the pocket up. How can you be seeing this? Now, the woman is walking away. The train is slowing. She timed this.

You don't feel like yourself. The image is going grayscale. Pointilist. But, you can still see yourself, almost. Look at you. Jaw agape, muscles slack. You used to be so young. 


 End reading (21:14)



Alright, that's my reading for tonight. 

Thanks for uh, letting me read just the beginning there of a little something that I've been working on. Don't be afraid to go to Pizzamas.com. I'm gonna go ahead and go to bed. But yeah, that's my spy grandma story. We don't have enough grandma spies in this world, you know? So. Long way to go. But that was fun. Y'all are the best, I'm gonna go call my spouse and go to bed. Goodnight friends, DFTBA. [end]