#commodityfetish

#ci57 #generalsisters #artandmaterials #commodityfetish #queerart #artandpraxis https://www.instagram.com/p/Bpw3IS0HdsfZVO5KiZOu2aWcFituia060aBhQM0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=12uqa752fr2nn

u wanna play??????????

Noticing that Matthew had a new spring in his step after spending the past few days in California, I asked him how he liked Los Angeles so far. He paused, removed his sunglasses, and looked at the people around us. The sounds of West Coast life -- not unlike those of East Coast life, yet somehow different, more relaxed -- echoed off the cafe walls. He slowly looked at me and, with a face I now know quite well, began to speak.  "Aunt Gabby, the woman to my left is drinking a chia-seed kale juice that cost eight dollars. The gentleman to my left -- the one with the ridiculous colored shorts -- spent twenty-five minutes telling his date about his free-range turkey burger. This city has commodified the act of walking from point A to point B. It's Marxist fetish at its finest. Our concert tickets, stereos, and iPods aren’t sold to help us hear the music; the music is sold to help us buy the tickets, stereos, and iPods. I cringe with every step I take." He looked away, twirling his straw in his glass. "So you're not having any fun at all?" "Well," he began with a smirk. "After all, the department store is the last promenade for the flâneur." He put his glasses back on, finished the rest of his (virgin) martini, and walked away.