Mass. A sea of advertisements, a flood of busy work, a trickle of time to oneself. Such is life the life I see all around me while I'm doped up on the carts.
Public affairs become mere entertainment (as is evidence by the particular usage of the word politics, ex: I was listening to the news on the radio and Desantis' reasoning by for reaching across the aisle was that "this was not a time for politics); private affairs oscillate between stimulation and fatigue as a result of the banality of the working life; the cult of commodity creates a desire whose kernel is characterized as absence.
Life under the rule of mere stuff and things is horrifying in its implications, a satisfaction of this empty desire leads only to its return in the form of boredom. An individual gal is reduced to one more customer amongst billions; why then should she dream of doing things of importance? Now, a disdain for the demos or the masses in favor of individualism would produce an odorous individualism. Crowds are cool, actually. Think of the electric atmosphere that charges thru the weekly gathering of fanatics and casuals alike that occurs in every stadium and every sports bar. Being part of the collective is baller and seeing as there's 7 billion of us, to try and permanently isolate oneself would be foolish and hypocritical: how could you enjoy solitude if you did not know companionship? Indeed, it is paradoxically the rejection of the demos, the universal, the all-in-all that allows women to gain their particularity. An awakening from the dogmatic slumber of a dream imposed on oneself.
