deproduction

another month, another day, another week of feeling as though i haven't done enough. the demand to be productive eats into me, and then i rebel by (this week) watching Mad Men into the early hours of most mornings, and then i wake up tired, underslept, and more grumpy about my lack of discipline. my rebellion annoys me, despite such pleasures (i just finished series 4 this morning. so amazingly good).

so anyway, this is an ongoing cycle of 'self-work' that i do, trying to be productive, coming to resent this, eventually abandoning it and giving in to pleasures, and later feeling like a failed citizen. then i pledge to start over again the next day/week/month. it's boring, i know. it's a central contradiction in my current life, this not wanting to embrace neo-liberalism and its slogans of progress, freedom, individuality, etc. yet at the same time getting entrenched in my own lack of progress, my desire for accomplishment that is measurable (in words, chapters, or a tidy database), and not being able to measure the value of my weeks/days/months beyond certain structures of productivity or achievement. and so i continue beating myself over the head and promising a better future, a 'next week' in which i excel, get things done, move forward, etc. and on it goes, repeat until death.

yet, my rebellion does nourish me, and perhaps i need to take note of this. perhaps i can reflect on two hours ago when i sat in the park, in the sunshine, and wrote a postcard to JB. i laid on the grass, re-read his postcard, and wrote with green ink. the ink, the sun, the grass, his words, and my thoughts of him all conspire to make this a beautiful moment. as i'm about to leave the park J calls. i return to sitting in that patch of grass where he tells me of his travels and the books he's read, one of which he will post to me. i ask him what it's like having no fixed address. he sounds happy and this makes me happy.

postcards and phone conversations with faraway lovely people, in the park, in the sun. this is a good day. i should be glad that i'm lazy and 'unproductive'. i should see more merit in this sharing of words and time with those i most care about. why should it be that those relationships are to be fostered in 'down time', when one is not working and producing and participating in a more pervasive and dominant economy? what about economies of friendship, love, and caring? why must they be sidelined, and why do i so often accept this as necessary?

like many, i cast my values outside 'dominant cultures' (for want of a better phrase), yet i guess i don't live up to my ideals as much as i think i might. because i fall back onto a need to control, build, and progress my abilities in ways that make me socially and economically legitimate.

but arguably there is legitimacy in sitting on the grass with postcards and phone calls. when i left the park i felt quite accomplished. i felt grounded, content, and as though i have a right to be here, in a world that i am connected to, through these enduring webs of friendship.

i might do some work this afternoon. or i might pick up that marguerite duras book that i've taken from the shelf. and i'll try not to care that i'll have no visible output from such reading.