Filthy Lucre

Quarter after ten.

I didn’t get a Snapple today. The work crew on Maxwell Road blocked my way to the little market, so I turned around and walked a mile to the grocery store on River Road. I totally forgot about going to the bank until just now. I was so worried about viruses and all that nonsense. The bank is only a stone’s throw from Grocery Outlet and it was after nine o’clock. I guess I don’t believe in psychodynamic theory, which would say that I sabotaged myself deliberately. What I did was an accident, not intentional. I just wanted to get back home in one piece… I think sometimes that everything would be right as rain if I could indulge myself in a drinking spree. But then I couldn’t use my brain to write or read or do anything constructive. You can never have your cake and eat it too. As I was out walking on Silver Lane, I thought the big machine of society is all fake, including the fiction of money and economics. During the stock market crash of the 1930s, I wouldn’t have been one of those brokers throwing themselves out of skyscraper windows. However, much of culture and history is economic. You can’t study history without touching on the role of the economy. Still it seems like such a Western thing, a thing that Native Americans have criticized us for. 


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