“You are so good. So good, you’re always feeling so much. And sometimes it feels like you’re gonna bust wide open from all the feeling, don’t it? People like you are the best in the world, but you sure do suffer for it.”
ethical consumption and ethical production are impossible under capitalism. capitalism survives by tricking enough people into thinking either are possible and by creating the illusion that you can “be the change” under its aegis.
“If a female student got drunk and had her car stolen the university would call the police. If she got drunk and had her computer stolen, they would call the police. If she got drunk and had her phone stolen, they would call the police. The fact that she was drunk would not even be factored in when assessing if a crime had been committed. But if she gets drunk and has her body invaded and her humanity stolen, school administrations are perplexed about what to do.”
how do i fix nerd cis man brains so they value the lives and wellbeing of women over video games
a ball peen hammer is probably a good start
I saw a squirrel lying in a broken window of an abandoned house on one of those blocks that someone with power and authority might describe as “blighted” here in the one and only Detroit, Michigan. I really wanted to take a picture of this squirrel lying in a broken window of an abandoned house but did not have on my person my cellular phone, that singular device that now tells me the time and reaches out to my family and records the things that I see and do pictographically. I was sad that I did not have the ability to immortalize and digitize this fleeting moment of meaning for myself, but neither sadness nor frustration nor any other permutation of mood chemicals could do anything about my lack of photographic capabilities, so I kept walking, sucking up that missed moment even after I’d rounded the corner and ascended the stairs and cooked myself some tasty Korean curry ramen. I remembered that someone once told me that a picture was worth a thousand words, and because I’d been robbed of the picture I’d wanted to take, I felt as though I owed the universe a thousand words on the subject, and that’s what brings us together here and now. Of course I may or may not actually physically and really be here now, but you’re reading the words right now that I’m thinking right now, and even though those right nows are most likely not one and the same, they’re still right nows, and that still means something, right? I like that one thing that someone else once told me, that books are proof that time travel exists, and I keep coming back to that idea more often than a millennial mentions constellations in their poetry. Have you mentioned constellations in your poetry? Then you’re part of the problem. Thanks, Obama. Is this a book? I don’t care. I’m still interested in the time travel that words allow, the shifts of place and thought and self that come from interacting linguistically, even if we’ve evolved beyond books, which is probably if you think about it a good thing, because that most notable confluence of word and power that I can think of at this time is the bible, the thought that the word and god and time and goodness are all somehow tied together, that they always have been. What a fucking argument or perhaps more appropriately idea! I wished for a moment that I could write shit like that, but then I realized that it was not the writing that was significant but instead the repeating, the spreading, the codifying and proselytizing and intellectualizing and whatnot, all those things that came after the writing that spread those words farther than earshot, farther than linguistic boundaries, farther than epochs and civilizations and social structures. So it wasn’t the book. Fuck books! We invented time travel and it had something to do with books and then it transcended its medium, its form! And now we live in hyperreality, where meaning is meaningless because its little-d democratic in the sense that everyone’s got it, everyone can write it down, publish it, shout about it, what have you, and I mean of course it isn’t going to reach biblical proportions, but come on! The bible had like, what, a 2000 year head start? Hardly fair if you ask me. So we’ve got the proliferation of the word, it no longer belongs to god or the church or the state, but there are still gods and churches and states that we’ve got to contend with, and I’m not sure that pictures OR thousands of words are the way to do so. I mean throwing bricks and starting fires seems like a pretty good point of departure, but is that was abandoned these houses here in the one and only Detroit, Michigan, where squirrels now sleep in the sills of broken windows? Of course there was a pretty vivid application of those tactics in the race riots of the late 60s, those things that seem so monumental that I still know nothing about despite being a Detroit (as in REAL Detroit, not metro Detroit) resident for a few months now. But that was the 60s, and this is the 00s, and the forces of destruction are much more diffuse than they were then, they’ve been liquidated and optioned and IPO’d and exported and globalized and it isn’t the water man’s fault that he has to come and turn off your water now, it isn’t the fascist emergency manager’s fault we can’t have nice things, they’re just doing their goddamn job, they’re messengers of the powers that be, we can’t shoot them! Because the cops have proven to be more than happy to shoot innocent and unarmed people in the streets of this great country, this city on a hill, this beacon of light to the free world, and a brick thrower or fire starter is just as easily dealt with by the army of the ruling class. So why does neoliberalism turn against itself, and how do we harness that power for our own good? O god, we don’t, we know we have no goddamn conception of the good, and every time we think we do we cause catastrophic social damage. Well, maybe not every time. The civil rights movement was pretty cool. The end of apartheid. The revolutions. We can’t even harness those powers, and they’re more ours than neoliberalism ever was or ever will be! If it’s written in books, it hasn’t been proselytized and codified and intellectualized, hasn’t been flung to the four corners like orthodoxy and normalcy and conservative traditionalism. Where are the apostles and prophets and teachers of the good, the transcenders and bohemes and no, not false idol vessels of capital, consumption, and greed, vessels of community and collective and togetherness, those things that are good, free, shared, tangible and attainable? Not at the end of this 1000 words.
bioshock infinite is a bad game
so i quit my job to finish my blog from my study abroad trip to asia and i’m immediately reminded why this is such a big deal/why this project required the relinquishing of my employment— I have like a billion tabs open relating to what I’m writing about and have a) discovered new music i’m stoked to listen to, b) stumbled across a new philosophical school of thought that i’m stoked to check out, and c) written about two weird paragraphs in this strange voice i’m not entirely familiar with.
"working on this blog" is like 10 to 20% actual writing, and 80 to 90% Other, which some may call procrastination or distraction or any number of things, but i love it and encourage it and grow from it, and am reminded of these weird videos i was watching recently with a friend that somehow like synthesize pop culture and the illuminati and oblique spirituality and claim that people like beyonce are possessed by demons or whatever, and i feel some kinship to that experience, in that i do feel other than myself; i’m following these threads to places i’ve never been before and wouldn’t otherwise reach without putting myself in this state of openness and allowing myself (or perhaps something other than my self) to wander. it reminds me of meditation and makes me think of all those intellectuals who fetishize shamanism and then makes me want to slap myself for wandering into that weird imperialistic territory.
this said friend is also working on a somewhat similar project— she’s helping to rebuild the house that we live in, the house my bougey straight friend jokingly and pejoratively refers to as “the house from fight club,” and she’s talked about how long it takes her to complete these relatively simple projects, and how she has like existential breakdowns and all this Other shit that’s super powerful and totally somehow tied to the simplicity of doing, but is at the same time so much more and different and unknown than that doing. and i still can’t tell if all of this makes me smart or dumb, and i wonder why that binary imposes itself upon me in times like these; am i maladaptive and Bad for doing this existential/spiritual/what-have-you wandering while trying to work? or is the point of the labor not necessarily to complete the labor but instead to grow from the labor in whatever obscure, tangential directions beckon along the way? maybe i am just distracted and all of this is meaningless and i need to “focus” and “work,” and maybe not. maybe my experience is valid and i need to wander through these states and try to bring things back from them to integrate back into normalcy, orthodoxy, reality, whatever you want to call the absence of these experiences, the place that is other than them.