Frames /sing

kvond

The Oneirics of Cash

Infinite ThØught wrote:

“Discussing money is like talking about dreams; nauseating and boring in equal measures, because, on many levels, rather important. The very material consequences of the real abstractions of money (and dreams) conflict with our self-perception and those of people around us: ‘I am not the number represented by my bank balance, I am a free man!’ The way money both allows you to do certain things and prevents you from doing others forces us to become certain kinds of people.”

One wonders if capital were taken to be like dreaming, if despite its banality and force it would help us understand its brutality as a function (and not just a reflection). We understand that dreams may help us be, process who we be, but do we understand that money does this as well? The pharmaceutical of cash. I believe Woody Allen said something like, “money just allows you to be yourself, which in most cases is a tragedy” (or if he didn’t say it, he should have). There is a sense in which the approach to capital needs to be one like the approach to dreaming. It varies between the theory of pure neurological randomness, the light-sparks of the day,  to profound structural signification. But neither must we be jabbed awake so as ever to keep our eyes peeled, dreamless, nor should we be remotely artificed into wider and wider thin-scapes of indulged apparition: however canned the laughter and the typescript of our economies, they do wear a grove. If Kapital is brutal and fast, it is then a perfunctory brutality and speed. In depth we must wade down into its waters. Dreaming is an intention, however oblique. A practice. An art. Neither to be abandoned, nor absconded with.

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