My Blog__ (saleable) Addictions

February 10, 2012 | By

Those days when everything around you is swirling and moving so quickly. And of course you should be fighting to keep pace, accomplishing the minute tasks that amount to a day's work but you can't seem to keep your eyes in front of you. The weight of the world's problems seeps into your person in strange and often unassuming times. The first time I wrote this sentence I wrote, "the weight of the world's problems seep into your person in strange and inconvenient times." But I changed it because the world is never my inconvenience and I hope never to be an inconvenience to the world.

Moving out of a regular non-fiction reading schedule is a good way to allow your own mind to wander from the terrifying and, at times, imperceptible magnitude of economic and physical violence happening around the globe. But as my eyes dash back and forth across images of textiles and thinly framed young men and women (models, not refugees) I receive a phone call from my father--my Canadian tax forms are due and I have forgotten. He is calling from Nigeria. There has been an explosion at one of the rigs there and 4 people were severely burned. All four men are Nigerian and they are currently in a mid-sized hospital in Lagos. I haven't thought about the refineries there in some time.

Where do they go when I am not thinking about them? They stay in Nigeria, of course, but where do they go from my brain when I am not thinking about the refineries? And, in a similar vein, what space does my civil responsibility to pay taxes in two nations occupy when it has been forgotten for the time being? I can't remember, so I'm not sure. I have been thinking about the scheduling conflicts of two full time jobs, a visiting friend who I love dearly, smaller, more isolated tasks mostly relating to Fashion Week or journalistic obligations in some way. And my health always lays there, ever docile at the base of my consciousness.

The colonization of the globe by markets and the colonization of everyday life by markets condition one another, are parasitic with one another indefinitely. But their concurrent infidelity to one another is something I have been thinking about a lot lately. Is it possible that the two do not co-condition one another as directly as I had once thought?

I heard someone say once that our generation's version of the death of god is the death of the subject. But that's not even my generation. Our generation's version of the death of the subject is the death of the everyday. The death of the micro-occurrences and relationships that seems to hold some form of autonomy or self-satiating value. Or maybe it becomes the death of user-generated content. Truly the fitting ideal for our condition of post-irony would be god's rebirth. I commit myself to religious purity and a blind faith in whimsical, magical, mystical and binding powers of which I have no part and to which I choose to submit. Which I will serve. There are elements of that I respect and seek out more than the self-serving nihilism I also find enchanting.

"Naturally the one colonization implied the other: there would have been no Black Atlantic of sugars, alcohols and opiates without the drive to shape subjectivity into a pattern of small (saleable) addictions." - Retort, Afflicted Powers

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