“Barry,” my cousin Mike said, “I think it’s time.” It was clear that my brother didn’t feel the same way, but he only shrugged, which Mike took as agreement. “Dave,” he said, giving the words as much gravity as he could muster, “Go get the dictionary.” I was nine years old, and a tag-along. I’d walked in on my brother telling a story about how—during school that morning—a girl he knew got her period in the middle of French class. And I laughed like the dickens. And then they called me on it. After I’d lugged the dictionary down from the spare room, Mike told me to look up the word period and read out the definition. “The end of a cycle, a series of events, or a single action?” “Keep going,” he said. “The full pause with which a sentence closes?” “Not that.” “An interval of geologic—“ “Gimme that!” He yanked the book towards him, read down the page, and pointed me towards the definition he’d found. Menstruation: the monthly discharge of blood from the uterus of nonpregnant women from pu...
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Especially for prostitutes.
Time to break out the uncle Karl - he could be talking about you!
[Dave] does not affirm himself in his labor, but rather denies himself; he does not feel happy, but rather unhappy; he does not grow physically or mentally, but rather tortures his body and ruins his mind. The laborer feels himself first to be other than his labor and his labor to be other than himself. ... [Alienated labour's] estranged character becomes obvious when one sees that as soon as there is no physical or other coercion, labor is avoided like the plague. . . . the activity of the laborer is not his own activity. It belongs to someone else, it is the loss of his self.
Jorge, fyi this bit of the economic and philosophic manuscripts of 1844 was translated by Richard Hooker.
This is what we like to see.
Now all you have to do is comment on my blog, and you'll get a free pie!
Mm. Like you have to encourage me.
You just got back from a cruise, with your wife and are back at your well-paid job in your field.
I am single, barren and way unemployed. Yesterday I got three rejections from jobs I thought I was overqualified for -- didn't even make it to the short list.
And you want sympathy?
On another, less antagonistic, note: Dave, please read "Graceland" by Chris Abani immediately. Something tells me you'll really like it.
P.S. Jody you are astounding. And Beth, getting a fellowship to Stanford is just a fancy and fulfilling kind of work...
And thanks for mentioning me in your shoutouts, you bastard.
I'm not barren but I'm a bastard?
And you wonder why you get no shoutouts...
So it doesn't bother me anymore. After all, I come by it honestly.
:-)