Well, as some of you know by now, I am absolutely opposed to everything police state that's been done in the name of 'public health'. Anyway, what I'm about to ramble on about isn't relevant to a specific book, it's observations inspired by going to a local diner for breakfast this morning.
During the beginning of the lockdown, one acquaintance of mine, who was once a Socialist but had started identifying more with the Situationists, & another friend of mine & I went out together. I was curious about his, the Situ-sympathizer, take on the quarantine. He was absolutely uncritical of it, happy to be able to stay home & collect unemployment instead of working a low-paying job. I was very disappointed. To my mind, he was very easily bought off.
More than a year later, the restaurants that weren't economically destroyed have reopened & masks are no longer required. When this phase started a month or so ago there were very few workers, it was hard to find anyone who wanted a job because they'd generally had it easier during the lockdown. The local diner that I go to was a case in point - they were consistently understaffed. Now, in the last week or so, they have a substantial new staff.
Last week, there was a young hostess, maybe in her early 20s or even late teens, & I felt depressed at seeing her there. I'm sure the job doesn't pay well & after all the grief of the last 16 months it was saddening to see people forced back into the marketplace, taking jobs that're mind-numbing & underpaid - dead ends.
Today felt like a whopping reminder of working-class doom: there're plenty of new workers but they're mostly pretty scattered-brained & probably over-extended. Almost EVERY CUSTOMER, similarly working-class, IS CRIPPLED IN SOME WAY. One regular has obviously had a stroke & is paralyzed on his left side. Most of the men walk with a limp. Being there is like being in some casualty ward but everyone seems to be a casualty just as a result of their class-induced life conditions.
I suppose what I'm getting at is: that regardless of how much I've hated & continue to hate the lockdown there was at least some relief for some people from being fed into the grinder. Now that that relief is mostly over it's even more striking to see business back to usual again with the cripples going out to eat & being served by mostly friendly but definitely psychologically injured people. & there I was, as usual, right in the midst of it - wondering how much longer I can hold on before I just don't care anymore whether I drop dead tomorrow.
During the beginning of the lockdown, one acquaintance of mine, who was once a Socialist but had started identifying more with the Situationists, & another friend of mine & I went out together. I was curious about his, the Situ-sympathizer, take on the quarantine. He was absolutely uncritical of it, happy to be able to stay home & collect unemployment instead of working a low-paying job. I was very disappointed. To my mind, he was very easily bought off.
More than a year later, the restaurants that weren't economically destroyed have reopened & masks are no longer required. When this phase started a month or so ago there were very few workers, it was hard to find anyone who wanted a job because they'd generally had it easier during the lockdown. The local diner that I go to was a case in point - they were consistently understaffed. Now, in the last week or so, they have a substantial new staff.
Last week, there was a young hostess, maybe in her early 20s or even late teens, & I felt depressed at seeing her there. I'm sure the job doesn't pay well & after all the grief of the last 16 months it was saddening to see people forced back into the marketplace, taking jobs that're mind-numbing & underpaid - dead ends.
Today felt like a whopping reminder of working-class doom: there're plenty of new workers but they're mostly pretty scattered-brained & probably over-extended. Almost EVERY CUSTOMER, similarly working-class, IS CRIPPLED IN SOME WAY. One regular has obviously had a stroke & is paralyzed on his left side. Most of the men walk with a limp. Being there is like being in some casualty ward but everyone seems to be a casualty just as a result of their class-induced life conditions.
I suppose what I'm getting at is: that regardless of how much I've hated & continue to hate the lockdown there was at least some relief for some people from being fed into the grinder. Now that that relief is mostly over it's even more striking to see business back to usual again with the cripples going out to eat & being served by mostly friendly but definitely psychologically injured people. & there I was, as usual, right in the midst of it - wondering how much longer I can hold on before I just don't care anymore whether I drop dead tomorrow.