sitting nauseous in a Beanery in the delightful, underrated capitol of our delicate, umpteenth-Century state. maybe the worst thing about this sickness is the inability to drink coffee.
it occurs to me that two years ago i was primarily interested intellectually in questions surrounding the idea of “cultural politics,” specifically what it meant to make “political art,” how to qualify artistic or cultural objects as properly “political” or otherwise, etc. these questions still interest me, certainly; indeed, a lot of my favorite art is made by people like Godard and Tim Kinsella who question their own ability to produce “political art” despite leftist intentions, and who thereby produce works that are simultaneously, self-consciously utopian and realist, ideological and sensuously materialistic. these are the matters that moved me most then, grad employee and semi-semi-pro artiste wading into the labor movement’s more academic inlets.
i have different concerns pressing me today. weirdly, and ambiguously, lemme tell you something what’s happened. as of yesterday, there are some institutionalized sisters and brothers who have access to fresh air and sunlight they couldn’t have accessed previously. it’s really nice to say that my scheming and obnoxiousness had a little, teensy bit to do with that. also today i attended the state legislature, digging on all the mental health players and basking in the Marvel Comics-ish universe of heroes, subvillians, gods and demi-demons. what an odd way to make your car payment. what a weird way to answer your own wonderings about what it is exactly that you think you’re doing.