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(COMMENT) CLASS IN POSTMODERNISM (LITERATURE)

You know, I don’t read ‘literature’ any longer. I lost it. It’s all nonsense now. I just see structure, intent, character. It all feels tedious and mechanical. Like a lot of work for little reward. When, I can skim five papers on some subject and maybe get a gem out of one of them.

And I’m taking this lovely little class in Postmodernism. Why? Because, honestly, I ‘get it’ in the sense that I understand it’s methods, processes, arguments and consequences.

But I actually don’t ’empathize’ with it. I can’t even begin to have any emotional attachment to it whatsoever. It’s just IMPOSSIBLE to suspend disbelief. It’s worse that reading a trashy horror novel that’s predictable.

It’s like a play written by a narcissist about a tragedy of his own creation.

Experiences aren’t rare or unique except to the solipsist, to whom each of his own experiences is dramatically novel, and needing of expurgation.

Marx does’t tell us anything other than capitalism is so productive that we are each of us almost irrelevant to each other as economic entities. He doesn’t say that this is good, because we get everything so cheaply that the poorest of us lives better than kings of old.

If you want to fix alienation, then just ask, what you do with the time you used to use working and struggling? We freed women from household labor. Wasn’t that enough? Men from physical drudgery. WTF.

SO YOU”RE BORED? SO YOU”RE POOR?

Ok. Well lets fix the fact that you’re bored and poor.

But you have the choice to be bored and poor and fat and comfy and unfulfilled because of capitalism.