I guess I keep going back to Critical Theory not necessarily because I'm searching for a way to view the world but because a lot of it echoes reflex feelings I have always had and it sort of feels like a warm hug when I'm stressed out over overpriced donuts and check-out drones. At first, anyways. If you hang out with guys like Marcuse and Adorno and especially Foucault too long, if starts to feel like you've gone too long hanging out with your loser friends from high school who just wanna smoke and play video games all night and bitch about how everything sucks. I still have a lot of optimism about things, I guess.
And as for Circle K, I guess I keep going back because I'm working up the courage to ask one of the employees, "Do you know when the Mongols ruled China?"
I'm being a little harsh, I do enjoy Roland Barthes works, and consider him and many other CT writers to be important to my understanding of our reality. Another lesser known I reccomend is Eccentric Spaces by Robert Harbison (1977). He sees gardens, buildings, novels, and maps as texts to decode with poetic reflections that remind me of Barthes’ semiotic lens cranked up with a touch of surreal whimsy
Mike, Foucault is the ultimate Debbie Downer. There are no answers for anything in Critical Theory. Critical theory is just "compare and contrast" academic masterbation and navel gazing.
God, how I remember friends having his picture as well as bumper stickers reading, I "heart" Adorno, on their old Volvos in the late 80's. I'll take Marxist losers for $2000 Alex.
Circle K has become as depressing as a communist grocery store in 1980's Siberia. The bathrooms are broke, the soda machine is out of order, Jazzy Jones behind the counter is ingnoring the automated check-out customers and loudly threatening to cut some bitches throat on her cell phone. Meanwhile, we are attempting to pay for a $3 stale donut filled with JFK's nightmares.
I know, I know. About all of it, I know. 🤲
I guess I keep going back to Critical Theory not necessarily because I'm searching for a way to view the world but because a lot of it echoes reflex feelings I have always had and it sort of feels like a warm hug when I'm stressed out over overpriced donuts and check-out drones. At first, anyways. If you hang out with guys like Marcuse and Adorno and especially Foucault too long, if starts to feel like you've gone too long hanging out with your loser friends from high school who just wanna smoke and play video games all night and bitch about how everything sucks. I still have a lot of optimism about things, I guess.
And as for Circle K, I guess I keep going back because I'm working up the courage to ask one of the employees, "Do you know when the Mongols ruled China?"
I'm being a little harsh, I do enjoy Roland Barthes works, and consider him and many other CT writers to be important to my understanding of our reality. Another lesser known I reccomend is Eccentric Spaces by Robert Harbison (1977). He sees gardens, buildings, novels, and maps as texts to decode with poetic reflections that remind me of Barthes’ semiotic lens cranked up with a touch of surreal whimsy
Mike, Foucault is the ultimate Debbie Downer. There are no answers for anything in Critical Theory. Critical theory is just "compare and contrast" academic masterbation and navel gazing.
God, how I remember friends having his picture as well as bumper stickers reading, I "heart" Adorno, on their old Volvos in the late 80's. I'll take Marxist losers for $2000 Alex.
Circle K has become as depressing as a communist grocery store in 1980's Siberia. The bathrooms are broke, the soda machine is out of order, Jazzy Jones behind the counter is ingnoring the automated check-out customers and loudly threatening to cut some bitches throat on her cell phone. Meanwhile, we are attempting to pay for a $3 stale donut filled with JFK's nightmares.