I woke up this morning, noon, after having gotten home from the theater at 3 a.m. alone. I took glycine supplements and had vivid though undramatic dreams. It was as if I was reliving ordinary moments from the past of no particular significance except that I had forgotten them.
I moved to New York not knowing what else to do, but with the expectation that special things would happen. People I met saw me somewhat as God's fool. Romantic, unrealistic. I resisted becoming realistic for a long time—maybe too long.
Notes from Sartre. Between 18481 and 1914, the bourgeoisie had the grim task of consolidating the power it gained after the failed revolutions of 1848. A ruler is often a screen for a ruling class. Rulers are ruled. In 1848, it was the removal of the monarchy which revealed the growing hegemony of the bourgeoisie.2 =
Whoever speaks for humanity usually is speaking for themselves, legitimizing and naturalizing their own interests.
I read recently that Instagram produces the same effect in the brain as cocaine, the same amount of dopamine. As someone who's never used Instagram, I will occasionally look at my friends. This is not surprising to me. If you don't use the app and then scroll for a few minutes, it's hard to stop. It really does feel like you're on a drug. I think this is incredibly sad: the possibility that more than 100 million active users are pruning