A Capital Proposal

In the last week I saw a lot of students protesting Israeli occupation in the Gaza Strip, but I didn’t hear any real solutions. These kids think a war that has been going on, even before World War II, is going to end because they held a little rally. We need real, concrete solutions for real problems. Not banners and chanting, or whatever they were doing. I’m sure the prime minister of Israel really appreciates the chalk-written messages all over campus, but telling him to get out of Gaza does not persuade.

So I would like to propose a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Casinos. A few months ago, when things were unraveling once again in this region (it only happens every few months), Palestinians were firing rockets into the desert sand. This blatant disregard for prime real estate signifies the true issue at hand. These people are fighting over land when they have no concept of capitalizing on the land they already own. Casinos will bring the two nations together—the Palestinians will have jobs, and the Israelis will have something to do on a Friday night. Plus, all the proceeds can go towards (re)education (camps)! Everyone wins—except the people playing poker, of course. But that’s the whole idea; it’s fun to blow your kid’s college fund (he was going to defect anyway).

The Americans, though, are just as guilty for not taking advantage of foreign markets. Instead of bombing Afghanistan, we could have built casinos there. Under the guise of disenchanted expatriates, American investors could have established a whole new Las Vegas in the middle of an even more desolate dessert. It worked the first time! As opposed to farming opium, the locals could have exciting careers as blackjack dealers and cocktail waitresses.

Casinos have always provided for the United States when our ingenuity has run out. And casinos are that one entity where even when it’s forbidden it’s allowed (the casino boats in St. Louis, for example—can’t be illegal if it’s not on land!). The non-western world could benefit from casinos economically, as well as socially and politically. They could put martyrs’ faces on poker chips. Furthermore, no actual product is necessary. And capital is the easy part. Once Americans buy the dessert real-estate, the Afghans or whoever will have plenty of money for their glorious casino (that vicariously we will own). At least now those big fluorescent pyramids won’t look so out of context.

iPodland is Everywhere "i" Go

Two dramatic things occurred this week for me. I stopped listening, and simultaneously joined society. By that I mean I entered the world of iPod. The lack of emphasis on ‘i’ is interesting. It is as if Steve Jobs knew this invention would cause collectivization on a national scale. The name is interesting in this sense because of its connection to the German signifier; their word for “I” is ich; note the lower case ‘i’. The signified, the subject, me, is suddenly less important than the thing, or the uppercase “Pod.” Oddly enough, it’s the British economist Adam Smith who emphasizes the “product” over the “laborer,” or at least, "labor" over the "laborer" (see the first book of The Wealth of Nations). And Marx, the German economist, prioritizes the reverse.

The real trick here: Making people believe they are more of an individual by owning an iPod. You can personalize it. Choose your own color. Choose your own model. It is as if the music comes second. I especially gave into this (not really because it was a gift, but a gift that I love) with my own particular brand of irony because the back of my “Shuffle” has the inscription, and one of my personal favorite sayings: “I hate your iPod.” Yet I haven’t been able to leave the house without it.

So perhaps I have joined the rest of the group. But the reason I avoided the iPod in the first place has to do with the wall it creates between the listener and the world around her. To walk about with a song in your head, constantly, is to not walk around at all. You (un)become something that’s not really there. Like an apparition. The extra barrier separates the listener from the outside world, as if we weren’t disjointed enough. I have acquiesced, though, and here’s why. When I am at home, I can hear the crazy people of the world as if they were in my apartment with me. So I think it’s only fair that when I step outside into “their” world, I can effectively block them. This small inversion of inside and outside makes me calmer, which means I’m in the real world less—let’s be frank, iPodland is actually Imaginationland—and despite the fact this inversion betrays my usual customs, my resolution for 2009 is to be less real (who needs principles anyway?).

Can one be more detached? Seems paradoxical to me, and there lies the appeal: If I’m going to join the group, I will only commit myself if I am actually less apart of the group. By conforming to the role I should be playing, I have successfully tuned the rest of the population out. When students protested Israeli occupation in the Gaza Strip on Thursday, I didn’t have to hear them. But when I look at their angry, hopeful, energized eyes I think, I’m supposed to be there with them. But I'm not. But I am.


But I'm not.

Man's Search for Meaning

The problem with meaning, or meaningfulness, is it’s already recognized. In one’s search for meaning, the desire itself is meaningful. In the Richard Linklater film A Scanner Darkly (based on the Philip K. Dick novel), Freck decides rather than a cheap wine, to buy a “connoisseur” bottle to aid him in his suicide. He notes the type and the price. Before he swallows the pills and wine, he tries to “think of something meaningful, but could not.” However, Freck already decided on what is meaningful—a tasteful wine over a poor one. In the very act of thinking about what’s meaningful, Freck experiences it. And yet he misses it. His very preference constitutes meaning.

While we’re out there buying books about finding meaning (well, not me of course), the answer is in our hand at the bookstore. The meaning is in the act. Because I shop for books about “finding” meaning, the pursuit itself is something I value as meaningful. The book, then, is superfluous. That means more money for a cappuccino!

After Freck’s “death” he is forced to listen to his sins read out loud for an eternity. He remains thankful that he purchased a good wine. Because of his desire, the choice has meaning, it becomes memory—whereas the list of sins he has committed do not interest him. Although Freck’s previous sins may have been the results of desires, they lack meaning now. Meaning changes for the subject. What possessed meaning ten years ago—my favorite toy perhaps (okay, fifteen years ago), lacks meaning now. Meaning matures with us, and that’s one of the main reasons why we don’t see it. In other words, we live the meaningful everyday by our choices, our desires—except when we can’t afford them. As Freck lies in bed sighing at the sound of his sins, his “last” thought to himself is, “at least I got a good wine.”

Evening Out

McCarran International Airport, Las Vegas. I paid eleven dollars for a ham sandwich and a bottle of water at Starbucks. After my sandwich, I put a dollar in a slot machine and won nine more. I’m going to say that’s breaking even because I actually won eleven dollars, but in the end I pushed my luck. Ten felt satisfactory. Something was truly accomplished in winning ten dollars (even though it was nine). A round number. It’s symmetrical. It looks good on paper. And that’s despite the fact Starbucks charged me a gratuitous amount for a ham sandwich.

Despite the fact? I often do.

A week ago I saw the “Action/Abstraction” show at the St. Louis Art Museum. The exhibit focuses on Pollack, de Kooning, etc. Adam Roberts talked me into going, and into standing in line. Our friend Kate and Adam’s sister came along, which made it better for me because then I had a reason to be charming. Adam’s seen my charm—it’s not so charming after 12 years.

Inside the exhibit, paint filled canvases denying the viewer’s entrance. My entrance. These were not landscapes, or at least, not picturesque landscapes. There was no nostalgia here. Something as alienating as abstract art is inherently anti-democratic. It’s tyrannical. Yet abstract provokes. It’s compelling. Landscape painting, in general, is sublime but without sublimity. Landscapes, even large “scary” mountainscapes remain within a frame work. They are too still to really move, or to move reality. However, a large scale canvas, all black with no frame, rebels against boundaries. The abstraction makes the brain jealous and angry, whereas the landscape “soothes.” The inclusiveness of landscape art and its boring qualities point to the same nature of democracy; whereas the abstraction’s exclusivity implies the interestingness of tyranny.

But you already know that, devoted internet user. Loyal limit transgressor. The “web-browser” is part of a generation growing up without boundaries, and a government, an old government, that insists on establishing them (you don’t have to look so far as the Middle East when people want to build a wall between the US and Mexico). These two things run contrary to each other, but we could not have one without the other—no? Isn’t the internet going to bring democracy to oppressive states? And aren’t oppressive states going to influence the “free world” the more the two interact. Why build a wall between Mexico and America—for the most part, the two nations possess very similar values. Despite what I think of China personally, the US and China have historically opposed each other religiously, economically and politically. Yet, this is the nation we’ve sold ourselves to. I would say God Bless America, but I don’t think the Chinese would approve (of the traditional Judeo-Christian God or of my irony).

It will even out though (let’s be optimistic—it’s the New Year). We might lose a dollar here and there, but who’s counting? We might give out several billion dollars to “stimulate” the economy, but we can always round up the results. It does not matter that government handouts and capitalism sound discordant because the more “liberal” we become the more we become “communists.” And the terms don’t matter because the actions don’t. If de Kooning makes a whirling black mess on a canvass and I don’t get it the consequence is zero because the landscape artist will just give it to me. He gives it away like a cheap consolation prize. For free. But both pieces are art, right? Am I less sophisticated if I hang a John Martin painting on my wall instead of a Pollack? Let’s be honest, if you from the bourgeoisie and you have any paintings on your wall, you’re doing better than your peers (so long as you did not purchase it at a mall). And this paragraph in general, is not cohesive, and I never really develop an idea. I think the point is, I don’t have to because on the obverse side of my life, someone is counteracting my actions, finishing my statements, losing while I’m winning, and eating while I’m going hungry. Eventually we’ll switch.

So I’m going to spend everything. Whatever anyone can give me. Today I bought plants, nails, a skillet, some doll rods, hangers (plastic not wire), and a spicy polish with everything. I might have to pay it back in one fashion or another, but somebody’s sucking on the ones sucking on me. As I’m giving out, someone’s taking-in. Who’s in the middle might be constant, but then what is? In the end, it might be me wiping the excess from the corners of my mouth. Instead of buying dinner with a Mastercard, perhaps one night I’ll be eating Mastercard. I know these metaphors are silly and confuse the matter at hand, but isn’t that the point of tyranny? Isn’t that the point of this?

I mean, after all, this is a democracy.



At least I wrote it out. I could have painted a big black mess.