A friend once said to me “I feel like I’m not actually working at my job because there’s so little to do” and I was like “the way I see it, if you can’t sleep and you can’t jerk off, you’re at work no matter what”.
And I just realized this gives me a new perspective on homelessness. There’s a certain baseline amount of labor you’re expected to do in public, finding places to exist unobtrusively, moving when the cops tell you to. No one is ever truly “off the clock” until they’re in their own home, if they have one.
I’m sure Michel Foucault or somebody wrote about this long before I did.
Or to put it another way, if home is the “first place” and work is the “second place” then the removal of third places from society means that if you don’t have a first place everywhere defaults to being a second place
If existing in public is a job then police are the managers, and calling the cops on someone for sleeping in public is, in effect, snitching on a fellow worker. I guess this functions as an explanation for why police unions “don’t count”.
weirdest part about being an artist (and, to an extent, a writer too) is feeling like. shameful that you aren’t creating massive pieces of art. how dare i not line and color and shade every drawing. how dare i only draw two poses. how dare i only write 1k words. how dare i not write an entire book. how dare i
Verdict on that Kraken movie: they shoulda just made the mermaid and the kraken gay.
i think we need to abolish subscriptions. im tired of remembering passwords and giving out my email. check out as guest, no you may not know my name. die
