Scanning the headlines, dread rises in my gut my eyes cross the saliva thickens in my mouth I make an ugly, guttural noise that frightens my dogs off the couch. I don’t like writing words like “moreover,” or rehashing cold, harsh facts of “reality.” I don’t particularly enjoy reading them, either. Moreover, simulated desire is the fuel of consumerism, the Western economy, the way of life that our planet will not be able to sustain for much longer.
Rather than anticipating our desires, branding and advertising agencies fabricate them, creating visual stories that inspire the feeling of a lack, of a need, of a desire for this thing we just found out exists. It’s a child in a department store, touching everything in every dimension: furniture, the color red, when this is all over, each other, clarity, a lost feeling, freedoms we have never tasted, tools that do not yet exist.ĭesire is fluid, and neoliberal American capitalism thrives on our being disconnected from its depth and dynamism. It receives its shape, morphing across cultures, across bodies, across single moments in time.
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