Daddy Warbucks is in town. Money is supposed to give people freedom. Which is why it’s such a condemnation that every overly-moneyed faction of society has historically compensated for that freedom by implementing a lot of small but steadfast rules. Throw longevity into the mix and the problem becomes bone-deep and inoperable. Think about the arcane, fetishistic procedure that comes along with being a participating member of a monarchy. Stories that focus on people with lots of money always end up being stories about policing behavior.
The Age of Innocence is about the trap of money, manners and their (intentional) stifling of desire. Daniel Day-Lewis is Newland Archer, a young man at the eve of his engagement to the socially-approved-of Winona Ryder. Archer is, inconveniently, also attracted to social outcast / new-to-town divorcée Michelle Pfeiffer. Newland spends a lot of time rationalizing what he wants, interspersed with flashes of insight into his own hypocrisy and dilettantism. What is he scared of most? Being a social outcast, or the new and un-trod territory of self definition? Ultimately, he decides via non-decision, and even after all threat of financial or social consequence has long faded into the past and he is presented with one, final chance to act on his desires, he can’t do it.
After a while, Newland’s dedication to his own self-restriction begins to the enter the realm of kink. There is a vibe that he’s getting off on it, that the act of not deciding is maybe the whole point. And this is the real gift of money, the one we like to pretend is its curse: money is a limitation. Imagine money’s ideal purpose: to bolster a society by engaging us in social contact via commerce and trade. The problem with money — and Newland’s problem — occurs when one tries to commodify something as intangible and sensitive as human contact. Money is a misunderstanding of desire because it assumes that desire is something that can be contained. What results is a transference and money becomes the object of desire instead.
This week I would encourage all of us to rethink our relationship to capital. Just for fun, make it even more perverse. What would it look like to treat money and your desire for it as a sexual deviancy? Where do you let money restrict you, and how much do you actually love it? What are the stories you tell yourself about money (I don’t have any, I want more, I’ll never have it) and are they erotic? How does it feel to check your bank account now, freak?
Wednesday, February 7
We discuss money as if it were a self-evident fact of the terrain, yet there are very few people who feel shame when someone mentions rocks. It is unnatural to call something natural and then treat it with awe, and even more unnatural to then blame the awe for capital’s refusal to abide by natural laws. Maybe it makes more sense to call money an alien and describe the exchange of currencies as black magick. That way the awe makes sense.
Thursday, February 8
Zap Zap! A series of electric shocks render the body at once incapacitated and energized. There’s so much to see and understand that it overloads and fries your brain out like a switchboard. Write down what you see in the blackout.
Friday, February 9
New Moon in Aquarius. The play is understood at the level of the stage and then the audience leaves. There is a whole other drama unfolding at the wings and in the underbelly of the theater. It’s quiet, dark. Decisions are made quickly, curtains and lights are lifted and set pieces struck by nimble young men in stage blacks. Costumes change, lights go off in dressing rooms, doors open and shut and allow snippets of whispered conversation to escape. A producer is talking about firing the director; an actor’s mother didn’t show. The level of accident and disrepair that happens in the background is what determines the state of what walks onstage, and after that there’s no going back. Run your show right and nobody says anything; run it wrong and everybody finds out.
Saturday, February 10
But maybe delusion is a salve after all. It’ll be interesting to see how you rationalize your way out of this one.
Sunday, February 11
A diorama of your feelings that you dropped at someone’s doorstep; you ring the doorbell and run away.