ORDI NARY AF F ECT S

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acknowledgments ix
Ordinary Affects I
I amgrateful to theNational Endowment for the Humanities for
afellowshipyear at the School of American Researchin Santa Fe;
to the University of California, Irvine, Humanities Institute for
sixmonths in Orange County; and to the University of Texasfor
aDean's Fellowshipand aFaculty ResearchAssignment.
Versionsof varioussmall parts of this book havebeenpublished
elsewhere, as follows: Annual Review of Anthropology 28 (1999);
Intimacy, ed. Lauren Berlant (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 2000); Cultural Studies and Political Theory, ed. J odi Dean
(Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2000); Cross Cultural Poetics 3,
no. 3(2000); Modernism, Inc.: Essays on American Modernity, ed.
J ani Scanduri and Michael Thurston (NewYork: NewYorkUni-
versity Press, 2002); "Public Sentiments: Memory, Trauma, His-
tory, Action," ed. Ann Cvetkovich andAnn Pelegrini, special issue
of Scholar and Feminist Online 2, no. I (2003); Aesthetic Subjects:
Pleasures, Ideologies, and Ethics, ed. Pamela Matthews and David
McWhirter (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2003);
Transparency and Conspiracy: Ethnographies of Suspicion in the
New World Order, ed. Harry G. West and Todd Sanders (Dur-
ham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 2003); Histories of the Future,
ed. Susan Harding and Daniel Rosenberg (Durham, N.C.: Duke
University Press, 2005); Handbook of Qualitative Research, ed.
Norman Denzin and YvonnaLincoln (London: Sage, 2005); and
"Uncharted Territories: An Experiment in Finding Missing Cul-
tural Pieces,"ed. Orvar Lofgren, special issue, Ethnologia Europea:
Journal of European Ethnology I, no. 2(2005).
Many people havereador listened to parts or all of thevarious
versions of this book. I amespeciallygrateful to BegonaAretxaga,
Lauren Berlant, J ames Clifford, Ann Cvetkovitch, Steven Feld,
Donna Haraway, Susan Harding, Mary Hufford, Laura Long,
J ason Pine, Gretchen Ritter, BetsyTaylor, GregUrban, and Scott
Webel. Fromthe start, the lifeand stories of Daniel Webb have
been an inspiration for my work in this volume. Some excel-
lent stories alsocame fromAndrew Causey, who ispermanently
missedintheneighborhood, andonecamefromPennyVanHorn
who isstill anexcellent presenceeventhough I never seeher. My
mother, Claire, and my brothers, Frank and Michael, eachcon-
tributed astory. Other members of my familyalsobuilt, and con-
tinue to build, the affectiveand narrative ground on which this
book roosts. The Public Feelingsgroup at the University of Texas
has been the most intellectually and affectivelystimulating and
supporting academic sceneI haveever been part of I thank Ken
Wissoker for knowing what this project was about long agoand
being there for it, so patient and clear. Ronn Dula, J ohn Dula,
andAriana Stewart havespun around the thing, day to day, with
grace, squeals of laughter and rage, rolled eyes, whispers, head-
aches, distractions, interruptions, and smiling eyes (or knowing
smirks). Thank you for that.
Ordinary Afficts is an experiment, not ajudgment. Committed
not to the demystification and uncovered truths that support a
well-known picture of theworld, but rather to speculation, curi-
osity, and the concrete, it tries to provoke attention to the forces
that comeintoviewashabit or shock, resonanceor impact. Some-
thing throws itself together in amoment asan event and asensa-
tion; asomething both animated and inhabitable.
This book is set in a United States caught in a present that
begansometimeago. But it suggeststhat theterms neoliberalism,
advanced capitalism, and globalization that index this emergent
present, and the fiveor sevenor ten characteristics used to sum-
marize and define it in shorthand, do not in themselves begin
to describe the situation we find ourselves in. The notion of a
totalized system, of which everything isalwaysalready somehow
apart, is not helpful (to say the least) in the effort to approach
aweighted and reelingpresent. This is not to say that the forces
these systems try to name arenot real and literally pressing. On
the contrary, I amtrying to bring them into viewas ascene of
immanent force, rather than leavethemlooking likedead effects
imposed on aninnocent world.
Theordinary isashifting assemblageof practices and practical
knowledges, asceneof both livenessand exhaustion, adreamof
escapeor of thesimplelife.
1
Ordinary affectsarethevaried, surg-
1See Lauren Berlant's essay "Cruel Optimism" (Differences, forth-
coming) for a brilliant discussion of how objects and scenes of desire
matter not just because of their content but because they hold promise
ing capacities to affect and to be affected that give everyday life
the quality of acontinual motion of relations, scenes, contingen-
cies, and emergences.
2
They're things that happen. They happen
in impulses, sensations, expectations, daydreams, encounters, and
habits of relating, in strategies and their failures, in forms of per-
suasion, contagion, and compulsion, in modes of attention, at-
tachment, and agency, and inpublics and social worlds of all kinds
that catch people up in something that feels likesomething.
3
Ordinary affects arepublic feelings that begin and end in broad
circulation, but they're also the stuff that seemingly intimate lives
are made of. They givecircuits and flows the forms of alife. They
can beexperienced asapleasure and ashock, asan empty pause or
adragging undertow, asasensibility that snaps into place or apro-
found disorientation. They can befunny, perturbing, or traumatic.
Rooted not in fixed conditions of possibility but in the actual
lines of potential that asomething coming together calls to mind
and sets in motion, they can beseen asboth the pressure points of
events or banalities suffered and the trajectories that forces might
take if they were to go unchecked. Akin to Raymond Williams's
structures of feeling, they are"social experiences in solution"; they
inthepresent moment of athingencountered andbecauserheybecome
rhemeansof keepingwholeclusrersof affectsmagnetizedtothem.
2 SeeGillesDeleuzeandFelixGuattari, Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and
Schizophrenia, vol. I, trans. BrianMassumi (Minneapolis: Universityof
MinnesotaPress,1983), andA Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizo-
phrenia, vol. 2, trans. Robert Hurley, Mark Seem, and Helen R. Lane
(Minneapolis: Universityof Minnesota Press,1987).
3 SeeLauren Berlant's introduction to Intimacy (Chicago: Univer-
sity of Chicago Press, 2000) and her essays"Nearly Utopian, Nearly
Normal: Post-FordistAffectinRosetta andLa Promesse" (Public Culture,
forthcoming) and "SlowDeath" (Critical Inquiry, forthcoming) for dis-
cussionsof an individual'sabstract yet contingent desireto feel likehe
or sheis"in" somethingor canrecognizesomething.
"do not have to await definition, classification, or rationalization
before they exert palpable pressures."4 Like what Roland Barthes
calls the "third meaning," they areimmanent, obtuse, and erratic,
in contrast to the "obvious meaning" of semantic message and
symbolic signification.
5
They work not through "meanings" per
se, but rather in the way that they pick up density and texture as
they move through bodies, dreams, dramas, and social woddings
of all kinds. Their significance lies in the intensities they build and
in what thoughts and feelings they make possible. The question
they beg is not what they might mean in an order of representa-
tions, or whether they are good or bad in an overarching scheme
of things, but where they might go and what potential modes of
knowing, relating, and attending to things are already somehow
present in them in astate of potentiality and resonance.
Ordinary affects, then, are an animate circuit that conducts
force and maps connections, routes, and disjunctures.
6
They area
kind of contact zonewhere the overdeterminations of circulations,
events, conditions, technologies, and flows of power literally take
place. To attend to ordinary affects is to trace how the potency of
forces lies in their immanence to things that are both flighty and
hardwired, shifty and unsteady but palpable too. At once abstract
and concrete, ordinary affects are more directly compelling than
ideologies, as well as more fractious, multiplicitous, and unpre-
dictable than symbolic meanings. They arenot the kind of analytic
object that can belaid out on asingle, static plane of analysis, and
4SeeRaymondWilliams,Marxism and Literature (NewYork:Oxford
UniversityPress,1977), 133, 132.
5 Roland Barthes, "TheThird Meaning: ResearchNotes on Some
EisensteinStills,"in The Responsibility of Forms: Critical Essays on Music,
Art, and Representation, trans. RichardHoward (Berkeley:Universityof
CaliforniaPress,1985), 318.
6 SeeNigel Thrift, Knowing Capitalism (London: Sage, 2005), for a
discussionof howcapitalismformsan"animatesurface"tolife.
they don't lend themselves to a perfect, three-tiered parallelism
between analytic subject, concept, and world. They are, instead,
aproblem or question emergent in disparate scenesand incom-
mensurate forms and registers; atangle of potential connections.
Literally moving things-things that arein motion and that are
defined by their capacity to affect and to beaffected-they have
tobemapped through different, coexistingforms of composition,
habituation, and event. They can be "seen," obtusely, in circuits
and failed relays, in jumpy moves and the layered textures of a
scene. They surgeor become submerged. They point to thejump
of something coming together for a minute and to the spread-
ing lines of resonance and connection that become possible and
might snapinto senseinsomesharp or vagueway.
Models of thinking that slideover thelivesurfaceof difference
at work in the ordinary tobottom-line arguments about "bigger"
structures and underlying causesobscurethewaysinwhichareel-
ing present is composed out of heterogeneous and noncoherent
singularities. They miss how someone's ordinary can endure or
can sagdefeated; howit canshift in the faceof events likeashift
in the kid's school schedule or the policeat the door. How it can
become avaguebut compelling sensethat something ishappen-
ing, or harden into little mythic kernels. How it can be carefully
maintained asaprizedpossession, or lefttorot. Howit canmorph
into a cold, dark edge, or giveway to something unexpectedly
hopeful.
Thisbook triestoslowthequickjumptorepresentational think-
ingand evaluativecritique longenough tofindwaysof approach-
ingthe complex and uncertain objects that fascinatebecausethey
literallyhit usor exert apull on us. Myeffort hereisnot to finally
"know" them- tocollect theminto agoodenough story of what's
going on- but to fashion some formof address that isadequate
to their form; to find something to sayabout ordinary affectsby
performing some of the intensity and texture that makes them
habitable and animate. Thismeans building anidiosyncratic map
of connections between aseriesof singularities. 7 It means point-
ingalwaysoutward toanordinary worldwhoseforms ofliving are
nowbeingcomposed and suffered, rather than seekingtheclosure
or clarity of abook's interiority or riding agreat rush of signs to
asatisfyingend. In this book I amtrying to createacontact zone
for analysis.
The writing here has been a continuous, often maddening,
effort to approach the intensities of the ordinary through aclose
ethnographic attention to pressurepoints and forms of attention
and attachment. Ordinary Afficts is written as an assemblage of
disparate scenes that pull the course of the book into a tangle
of trajectories, connections, and disjunctures. Each scenebegins
anew the approach to the ordinary from an angle set off by the
scene'saffects. And eachsceneisatangent that performs the sen-
sation that something is happening-something that needs at-
tending to. Fromthe perspective of ordinary affects, thought is
patchy and material. It does not find magical closureor evenseek
it, perhaps only becauseit'stoo busyjust trying to imaginewhat's
going on.
I write not asatrusted guide carefully layingout the links be-
tween theoretical categories and the real world, bur asapoint of
impact, curiosity, and encounter. I call myself "she" to mark the
difference between this writerly identity and the kind of subject
that arisesasadaydreamof simplepresence. "She" isnot somuch
a subject position or an agent in hot pursuit of something de-
finitiveasapoint of contact; instead, shegazes, imagines, senses,
takes on, performs, and asserts not aflat and finished truth but
some possibilities (and threats) that have come into viewin the
effort to become attuned towhat aparticular scenemight offer.
Fromthe perspective of ordinary affects, things like narrative
7 SeeJ ohn Rajchman, The Deleuze Connections (Cambridge,Mass.:
MIT Press,2000), 4-13, for adiscussionof the analysisthat worksto
makeconnections.
and identity become tentative though forceful compositions of
disparate and moving elements: thewatching and waiting for an
event to unfold, the details of scenes, the strange or predictable
progression inwhich onething leadsto another, the still lifethat
givespause, theresonancethat lingers, thelinesalongwhichsigns
rush and form relays, the layering of immanent experience, the
dreams of rest or redemption or revenge. Forms of power and
meaning become circuits lodged in singularities. They haveto be
followed through disparate scenes. They can gather themselves
into what wethink of asstories and selves. But they can alsore-
main, or become again, dispersed, floating, recombining-re-
gardlessof what whole or what relayof rushing signsthey might
find themselvesin for awhile.
Walter Benjamin's 1999 Arcades Project is one model of this
kind of thinking: his nomadic tracing of dreamworlds still reso-
nant in material things; his process of writing captions to found
fragments and snapshots gathered into a loose assemblage; the
way histhought pressescloseto its objects in order to beaffected
by them.
Roland Barthes's S/Z and A Lover's Discourse are models too:
his attunement to the movements, pleasures, and poetics of lan-
guageand things; his senseof the expansive, irreducible nature of
forms of signification; his attention to the fragments that com-
prise things; his notion of thepunctum-the wounding, person-
allytouching detail that establishesadirect contact.
Leslie Stern's The Smoking Book assembles an array of brief
ficto-critical stories united only by some mention of smoking,
embedding theory in the situations encountered. The result is a
mass of resonances linking precise moments and states of desire
through asingle, thin lineof connection. It leavesthe reader with
anembodied senseof theworld asadensenetwork of mostly un-
known links.
Michael Taussig'sMy Cocaine Museum and The Magic of the
State andAlphonso Lingis'sDangerous Emotions andForeign Bodies
alsoservehere asexamples of ficto-critical efforts to performthe
intensity of circuits, surges, and sensations.
D. ]. Waldie's Holy Land: A Suburban Memoir is a surreally
realist chronicle of Lakewood, California, which in the 1950S was
built, overnight, asthe "world'slargest" subdivision. Likethesub-
division grid, Waldie's memoir is constructed out of tiny bits of
personal narrative, hometown tales, and moments in the history
of real estatedevelopment, all held together with the mortar of a
singular though widespread formof ordinariness.
David Searcy'sOrdinary Horror brilliantly performs the attach-
ment to fantasy that arisesout of mundane sights and situations.
Many other novels, suchasEdward J ones's The Known World, Ian
McEwan'sAtonement, or Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner, pro-
ducescenesof aworld saturated byjumpy attunements.
Finally, Lauren Berlant's mode of thinking and writing on the
affectsof the present moment serveshere as adirect inspiration
and source of insight. In her work, the academic concept be-
comes something new and promising. Embedded in the intense
and complex affectiveattunement of her writing, her concepts of
the noncoherent, the incommensurate, and the scenic, aswell as
of attachment, intimacy, exhaustion, and the unlivable but ani-
mating desiresfor rest or for the simplelifehavesent me back to
rethink scenesover and over again.
It'sbeenyearsnowsincewe'vebeenwatching.
Something surges into view likeasnapped livewiresparking
on acoldsuburban street. Youcan stareat it, transfixed byits er-
ratic thrashing. Or you canshakeit off fast and finishyour morn-
ingwalk asplanned, eyeingthe thing asyou passonyour wayto
thedogpark.
At thepark, there istalk, and thedogs run around madly, asif
recharged.
Theflashingup isreal.
It isdelusional.
Thedogstaketosleepinginnervous fitsandstarts. Theythrow
one eye open, raising a single eyebrow in hard surprise. They
cower under legsfor no goodreasonandwhimper at thesound of
branches brushing upagainst thebathroom window inthestill of
thenight. But with asimple, reassuringlook andamurmur inthe
ear, akisson thehead, or theglimpseof atail running by, they're
off again, stretching their legsinsheer pleasure.
Everydaylifeisalifelivedon thelevel of surging affects, impacts
sufferedor barelyavoided. It takeseverything wehave. But it also
spawns aseriesof little somethings dreamed up in the course of
things.
It growswary and excited.
There areall the details of getting the rent money together or
of home remodeling, getting messed up and recovering (or not),
looking for love(or not), trying to get into something, or trying
to get out of something you've gotten yourself into, shopping,
hoping, wishing, regretting, and all the tortures of exclusion and
inclusion, self and other, right andwrong, hereand there.
The ordinary registers intensities-regularly, intermittently,
urgently, or asaslight shudder.
Wewishfor thesimplelifethat winks at usfromsomeone else's
beautiful Rowerbeds. WeRipoff other drivers, eyestrange or de-
licious characters on the subway or the street. Wescan the head-
lines, readtheluscious novelsand sobering memoirs twopagesat
atime beforefallingasleepat night. Welosehours at atime dis-
appeared into somepleasureor obsession, or Rippinghamburgers
or filingcharts all afternoon to thepoint of literal senselessness.
Attention is distracted, pulled away from itself. But the con-
stant pulling alsomakes it wakeful, "at attention." Confused but
attuned.
We'rebusy if we'relucky.
For some, theeverydayisaprocessof goingonuntil something
happens, and then back to thegoing on.
For others, onewrong moveisall it takes.
Worries swirl around thebodies inthedark.
Peoplebottom out watching daytime television.
Schedulesarethrown uplikescaffoldingtohandlework sched-
ulesand soccer practice or ahusband quietly drinking himself to
death inthelivingroom.
We dream of getting by, getting on track, getting away from
it all, getting real, having an edge, beating thesystem, being our-
selves,checking out.
But first wetakethehit, or dodgeit.
Modes of attending toscenesand eventsspawnsocialities, identi-
ties, dreamworlds, bodily statesand public feelingsof all kinds.
,rr: - : _::::_:-into, shopping,
I -:- _~::' of exclusionand
-. = - ~~::;.ndthere.
Diit: - ~= ;: __~>'" intermittently,
-':':,: gening away from
-. = :'_-, ::'Tstem, beingour-
None of this issimply "good" or "bad" but always, first, both
powerful and mixed.
She's in a cafe in a small West Texas town. A place where
ranchers hang out talking seedprices and fertilizer and strangers
passing through town are welcome entertainment. The sun is
going down and she'shalfway through her fresh-killedsteak and
her bakedpotato when abiker couplecomesinlimping. All eyes
rotate towatch themasthey moveto atableand sit down. Their
hair istousled, their clothesrumpled and torn. Theytalk intently,
locking their startled eyes.When shewalkspast their tableonher
wayout, they raisetheir heads to ask if she'sheading out on the
west road and if shecan look for bikeparts. They saythey hit a
deer coming into town anddumped their bike. Thedeer, they say,
faredmuch worse.
The room comes to adead stop. All eyesand ears tune in to
the sentience of the crash still resonating in the bikers' bodies.
Then, slowly,taking their sweet time, peoplebegin to offer ques-
tions fromtheir tables, drawing out thedetails. First there isjust
thesimplewill to knowwhat happened. But thetalk, onceset in
motion, expandsinto athicket of storiesandsocial maneuverings.
Thereistalkof other collisionsandstrangeeventsat that placeon
the west road. Some people make eyecontact across the room.
There are sly smiles of recognition. Little seeds of speculation
begin tosprout. Thesceneintherestaurant becomes anordinary
mazeof inspirations and experiments.
It'sasif thesingularity of theevent hasshakenthings up, light-
ening the load of personal preoccupations and social ruts. As if
everyonewas just waiting for something like this to happen. A
"we"of sorts opens intheroom, charging thesocial with lines of
potential.
As sheleaves, sheimagines how, in the daysto come, people
will keeptheir eyesopen for bikeparts when they travel thewest
road and how therewill bemore talk. Conversations will gather
around theevent and spin off into talk about theoverpopulation
_ =':y:nsomeoneelse's
:~: =::e strangeor de-
:-~:. -Te scanthe head-
_;:~:::-:::Jirstwopagesat
~ y~rsat atime dis-
:~ ~__??ing hamburgers
, : .. :.::::3.1 senselessness.
-: -:-, self But the con-
-:::-,:,,:'In."Confused but
~ ,g:n until something
~
II'-~:'. = :
IIIr: ----~.
r::l~', r, . _. -: :-~~lon.
:1 - ~ :.: ,-~cndlework sched-
cL .. _ ~ -_ . ::':-inkinghimself to
- :, "n socialities, identi-
.!cL. - - ': :'::dingsof all kinds.
of deer or the new law legalizing riding without ahelmet. There
might be talk of what parts would break in aspeeding encounter
with adeer caught in aheadlight, or of who is agood mechanic
and who doesn't know what he's talking about. Or talk might
turn to the image of hitting the open road, or surviving the desert
injured, or to abstract principles like freedom, fate, and reckless-
ness.
But one way or another, the little accident will compel a re-
sponse. It will shift people's life trajectories in some small way,
change them by literally changing their course for aminute or a
day.
The chance event might add a layer of conflict or daydream
to things. It might unearth old resentments, or set off a search
for lessons learned. It might pull the senses into alignment with
simple choices or polemics: good luck and bad, laws and liberties,
wild rides and common sense. But for now, at least, and in some
small way in the future, too, the talk will secretly draw its force
from the event itself resonating in bodies, scenes, and forms of
sociality.
And the habit of watching for something to happen will grow.
It can draw danger.
Or it can dissipate. :~.:.-
She's Vlsltlllg a place _~_
poverty and stereotype' ,:
Strangers passing thrc_;-, '
tight.
Right now, Bobb~' ,.
there's been trouble v , : I,-_
TheWhitakers are'-,,',=-
incarnation of mour:;:-=-~,::
she met them, years ~ e~:::
with a doctor from ::-,:
ker had congestive he-=--::-= -
propped up in abeaI-":,=-:::
boys ran in and out 0:' I,-,: -
Three or four youn~e: :' __
smiling, curious.
Then the mother c~-=--'-,
an old cowboy hat ar:=-.:.::1
sequins and drifted c~
of the others, cashinz = -', = _:
day to the little store,,-: = -', = :
Dongs, coffee, and IiII_= :-= --_
For years now, ne:;~,::
clothing, carrying th~~, :: = -:
frombeing taken b:' t:--,= :' ::
old trailer, now deca','~-=- -=-I =-
cars have piled up a~=- = --:'
Some of them haveb..:_: I'-__'
smallest of tool shed" =- ,_
Theordinary isacircuit that's alwaystuned in to some little some-
thing somewhere.
A mode of attending to the possible and the threatening, it
amasses the resonance in things.
It flowsthrough cliches of the self, agency, home, alife.
It pops up asadream. Or it shows up inthe middle of aderail-
ing. Or in asimple pause.
It can take off in flights of fancy or go limp, tired, done for
now.
It can pool up in little worlds of identity and desire.
It candrawdanger.
Or it candissipate, leavingyou standing.
::: c:c: = ':'1g encounter
~ ~:Jd mechanic
- _: , = ':talk might
-= -- -:'1g thedesert
- :-::: "-,cdreckless-
-__:Dmpel a re-
: =_:: small way,
- -"::.::ninute or a
She's VISItInga place in the mountains where there is abject
povertyandstereotypessostrong theythicken theairlikeastench.
Strangerspassingthrough drop their jawsandlock their car doors
tight.
Right now, Bobby is worried about the Whitakers because
there's been troublewith somerichkids fromtown.
TheWhitakers arewildlooking. Everyonepoints tothemasthe
incarnation of mountain stereotype. Sheremembers thefirst time
she met them, years before, on ahome visit to their tiny shack
with a doctor from the local poor people's clinic. Mrs. Whita-
ker had congestiveheart failure. Shesat with her swollen ankles
propped up in abeat-up recliner whilefour or fivemute teenage
boysran inand out of thehousegesticulating somekind of story.
Three or four younger children sat on a mattress on the floor,
smiling, curious.
Then the mother died. After afewmonths, the father put on
anold cowboy hat and abeautiful redandyellowsatinshirt with
sequins and drifted off. Mary Jo, theoldest, wasableto takecare
of the others, cashing their disability checks and walking every
dayto thelittlestoreat theend of theholler to get weenies, Ding
Dongs, coffee, and littlecansof sweet evaporated milk.
For years now, neighbors have been bringing them food and
clothing, carryingthemtothehospital, andfighting tokeepthem
frombeingtakenbythestateandsplit up. Someonegavetheman
oldtrailer, nowdecayedandcollapsingonthespot. Broken-down
cars have piled up and the Whitaker boys arenow grown men.
Someof themhavebuilt their owntiny shacks, no bigger than the
smallest of tool sheds. Driving past their placeon thenarrow dirt
:-: :: daydream
'::: iJ tt asearch
.:-_~:-_ment with
-'I'_dliberties,
::C,: .:ndinsome
:::3.\\- its force
__ .:-,d forms of
- :=_c: 3. life.
- := . . :. :of aderail-
roadnow, youseeseveral men andwomen standing frozeninthe
yard, watching youpass. If youwave, they'll smileandwaveback.
If youdon't, they'll just stand therewoodenly and stareat you.
Two of thewomen go to the Tommy Creek FreeWill Good
Hope Baptist Church next door. They testify in alanguage the
others can't understand, even though speaking in tongues is a
regular thing. This languageseemslikeaspecial connection with
thedivine.
Thetroublestartedwhen avisitingpreacher fromtown spotted
theWhitakers on hisway to theTommy Creek church and then
went backandtoldhiscongregation. Achurchcommittee brought
food and clothes. Bobby saysthey must haverealizedwhat they
had here, because they came back at Christmas with a camera
and shot avideo to showthe congregation. A group of teenage
boys in the church wereseizedby the images, soone dark night
they surgedtoward theWhitakers's place. Theythrewrocksat the
shacks to drawthemout. A fewweekslater they wereback, and
this time the Whitaker men came out showing guns. Bobby is
afraidthat thenext timetherichkidswill beback shooting.
An escalating exchange is sparked by avisceral encounter of
images. In avideo that blankly recordsanarresting image, young
embodiments of amainstream in the making come faceto face
with an otherness that compels acloser look. Theorder of repre-
sentation giveswayto amoreviolently affectivecontact.
Calling out theWhitakers, thekids fromtown surgetoward a
sceneof their ownconfident force.TheWhitakers learntheir part
in the faceof threat-the headlights shining in their sleepyeyes
and thecrackof hostileshouts.
Thepolitics of orci~-=-:- -
ond when policeCC: ~': : e -
standing in adark.::: :~ ~
moment when some ~__ _
comeinto view. 0c- :
any surgedepends -
playsitself out and ~:-~
Ideologieshappc~ ~: -
trenched. Identities : ~-: e :
at the drop of ahar. :-:. _:- :
quality of asomethir~;: :
Her brother makesforeman at GE after twenty someyearsonthe
line. His first job isto layoff alot of the other guys. Guys with
. ~. :::". wwn spotted
:::_.::-:-.lfchand then
- :. :::".:nitteebrought
: .e~:zed what they
-= -. -'-' \:ith a camera
~.::cup of teenage
:.. :medark night
-= . -. :::\\. rocksat the
= . - = - - . e - '.',ereback, and
= -. ; pns. Bobby is
. = = - '-:~: shooting.
: : : : Jl encounter of
..~::'::=-.gimage, young
-.:: ::>:nefaceto face
-:-= -. '" order of repre-
.:: :ontact.
- .,::'.surgetoward a
. :.:,:::::5 learntheir part
._ their sleepyeyes
twenty or thirty yearsin. It'shorrible (he'sastoryteller). One man
has a heart attack in his office, so he calls the ambulance. He
finds counseling for others who are having anxiety attacks and
severeconfusion. One man needs suicide intervention after his
wifekickshimout of thehouse.
Her brother's stories areshell-shocked and they haveno end-
ings. They leaveyouhanging.
There's astrike over healthcare cuts and job security. He and
the other foremen haveto crossthepicket line. It'shorrible. He's
been a union steward. He's given union speeches. Now things
aregetting ugly. Something powerful and painful flashesthrough
him.
Soon after, there's acall for aone-day national strike. He and
some of the other foremen go to management. They say they're
not comfortable crossing the picket line. They're told they can
takeapersonal day. Luckyfor themit'sonly oneday.
They'reaweak link in the chain of command. They'restrong,
brave, andscared. They'vehit awall inwhat theycanandcan't do.
They'reashort circuit inaflow.They'relucky.
~. '-.=-.S': frozeninthe
-=-._. e::1dwaveback.
:. = -. ::. ,ure at you.
._~.:::ee\'Vill Good
= -. '- language the
__ = . :: .::'c wngues is a
- ... :. ::>"nection with
::::-. 'orneyearson the
: :=-."'I guys. Guys with
Thepolitics of ordinary affect canbeanything fromthesplit sec-
ond when policedecideto shoot someone becausehe'sblack and
standing in adark doorway and has something in his hand, to a
moment when someone fallsinlovewith someone elsewho'sjust
comeinto view. Obviously, thedifferences matter. Thepolitics of
any surgedepends on where it might go. What happens. How it
playsitself our and inwhosehands.
Ideologieshappen. Power snapsinto place. Structures growen-
trenched. Identities takeplace. Waysof knowing becomehabitual
at the drop of ahat. Bur it'sordinary affectsthat givethings the
quality of asomething toinhabit andanimate. Politicsstartsinthe
animated inhabitation of things, not waydownstreaminthevari-
ous dreamboats and horror showsthat get moving. Thefirst step
inthinking about theforceof things istheopen question of what
counts as an event, a movement, an impact, a reason to react.
There'sapolitics to being/feeling connected (or not), to impacts
that areshared (or not), to energies spent worrying or scheming
(or not), to affectivecontagion, and to all the forms of attune-
ment and attachment. There'sapolitics towaysof watching and
waiting for something tohappen andtoformsof agency- tohow
the mirage of astraightforward exerciseof will isaflagwavedin
onesituation and avicious, self-defeatingdeflation inanother (as
when someone of no means has a get-rich-quick daydream-a
daydreamto befreeat last-that ends themup injail). There'sa
politicstodifferenceinitself-the differenceof danger, thediffer-
enceof habit and dull routine, the differenceof everything that
matters.
Thehard, resilient needto react hasbecomeachargedhabit.
For her, it started early. Becauseshewas a girl. Becauseher
family,likeall families, built itsskinaround dramas andluminous
littletaleswith shiny scenesand vibrant characters. And because
the storytellers kept track of what happened to everyone-the
ends they cameto. (Which, of course, werenever good.)
Thesocial and natural worlds could beseenthrough the out-
linesof impacts suffered.
They registered, literally, in a kind of hauntedness, a being
weighed down, apalpablereaction.
::e--:-. ::1 (hevari-
-:: -=-:-:.-: first step
... - =._::'=::':1of what
_ :::-=--,::1 IO react.
.:=. w impacts
.- ..:".:::r scheming
': :'::::::",' of attune-
:--,.-.aching and
:'.:...::::=-:,:\'-to how
. ~-= , ~waved in
_______ L . -::-
- -::",::::. another (as
,=_=:: Ja\'dream-
a
_:-.:".lj). There's a
.:.::."-:".::er, the differ-
:--::'~er:'thing that
For years now her early childhood has been coming back to her as
shocks of beauty, or beautiful shocks.
She remembers her kindergarten class walking back from
Woolworth's, carrying a box of furry yellow chicks. The look of
red tulips standing upright in her mother's garden is married to
the taste of found raspberries and tart rhubarb ripped out of the
ground when no one was looking and eaten with a spoonful of
dirt.
The scene of her mother in abeautiful black dress and red lip-
stick getting ready to go out cuts to the brilliant blood exploding
from the face of the boy next door when he fell from acliff and
landed face down on the cement in front of her. Then the scene
cuts to the rhythm of shocks, dayslater, asher father and the other
men tear the cliff apart boulder by boulder. Each time one hits
the ground it shakes the glassesin the pantry with an impact that
seems transformative.
There is a spectral scene of her little brother hunched over
something in the row of pine trees that hug the house. Shepasses
him on the way to school; on the way back at lunchtime, there is
the sight of the house inflames and the driveway full of firetrucks
with flashing red lights. The phrase "playing with matches" seems
to bewritten across the blue sky in huge, white, cloud letters.
Or there istheday that all of her grandparents come tovisit and
they are floating up the treacherous driveway in abig, wide car.
Then thewheels aresliding off the icyedgeand the big car lurches
to the edge of the cliff and hangs suspended. Thewhite heads in
the back seat sit very still while sheruns, yelling for help.
There areher fingers crushed in the milk door on the landing,
- :. -: Te-edhabit.
',-,- ~.;rl.Because her
'::':e--::as and luminous
.T.::.:.:.==-:rs. And because
- :-:- ::.::.=0everyone- the
,'" - ~-.'ere-ood.)
- - --- t:l
:::::::. c:hroughthe out-
her screamsstifledinapanic to keepthesecret that therearewild
rabbits running around inthe cellar.
Sunday drivesareicecreamconesdripping down stickyfingers
in the back seat and thewordless theft of the baby's cone, silent
tears running down fat cheeks. Thereisthe unspoken agreement
among theolder kids not to alert thefront seat.
There's the dreamy performance at theVFW hall. Her sister is
the "cancan" girl coveredinclanking cans, and she'sthe "balloon
girl" dancing infloating plastic spheres to thelyricsof "Itsy Bitsy
TeenieWeenieYellowPolkaDot Bikini" whileeveryonelaughs.
Later, there are Saturday mornings spent fidgeting at her
grandmother's tablewhile her mother and her aunts tell graphic
stories prompted by the seemingly simplework of remembering
kinship tiesand married names-stories of alcoholism, accidents,
violence, and cancers.
Therearethenights walking thestreetswith her mother, peer-
ing into picture windows to catch adreamy glimpse of scenesat
rest or atelltaledetail out of place. A lamp byareading chair or a
shelf of knickknacks on thewall, achair overturned.
Sostill, likeapostcard.
Ordinary life, too. -= -:-~.
arrest. Stilllifes punc~_~'::
with ribbons andwir:::;:'-:
inthe back seat of d'.::;::.:.c
lake, the collection c , c ' : ' c . c ~:
after ahikein the ffiC_C. ~"- - :
inthe closet, themccc. O:C.
lurch into view wi~:,,-c . ~
out when astrange CC. "--'-- . . O:
perience that pull a~cc -, -. c _ "-
frame.
A still lifeisasta:::c:~.c':
nance. A quivering ;c . ~. -. : : _
givesthe ordinary th:: c c _ , , --';
It istheintensity : c c c . : :
or aglitchintheproi: : c c --: :
alife. Or asimplesw::::._.;:
When astill lifel C~C; : ~::
ashock or as some. ~= . :~. - -
of sheer pleasure-2.r: _ c c _ :
feeling. Or an alibi c 'c c = -- :
insanity folded into c ~_ : : : : : :
can beaflight fromL_ CC. C'. c
strategiesof carrying ' c. "-
It can turn theself :-.~: c
A still isastateof calm, alull intheaction. But it isalsoamachine
hidden in the woods that distills spirits into potency through a
processof slowcondensation.
Inpainting, astill lifeisagenrethat captures thelivenessof in-
animate objects (fruit, flowers, bowls) bysuspending their sensory
beauty inanintimate scenechargedwith thetextures of paint and
desire.
Hitchcock wasamaster of thestill infilmproduction. A simple
pause of the moving camera to focus on a door or a telephone
could produce apowerful suspense.
Therewas atime , , 'le: : c . ~_ -_ 0:
traipsing around sme..:.- = - . - - C.
vation and faded be2.:':"C' -:--.
ornate, stone-cut Gec c c . -'-C. c _
now hosting gift shcF'
"3 '..Itit isalsoamachine
= _:0 potency through a
Ordinary life, too, draws its charge from rhythms of flow and
arrest. 5tilllifes punctuate its significance: the living room strewn
with ribbons and wine glassesafter aparty, the kids or dogs asleep
in the back seat of the car after agreat (or not sogreat) day at the
lake, the collection of sticks and rocks resting on the dashboard
after ahike in the mountains, the old loveletters stuffed in abox
in the closet, the moments of humiliation or shock that suddenly
lurch into view without warning, the odd moments of spacing
out when astrange malaise comes over you, the fragments of ex-
perience that pull at ordinary awareness but rarely come into full
frame.
A still lifeisastatic state filledwith vibratory motion, or reso-
nance. A quivering in the stability of acategory or atrajectory, it
gives the ordinary the charge of an unfolding.
It isthe intensity born of amomentary suspension of narrative,
or aglitch in theprojects wecall things liketheself, agency, home,
alife. Or asimple stopping.
When a still life pops up out of the ordinary, it can come as
a shock or as some kind of wake-up call. Or it can be a scene
of sheer pleasure-an unnamed condensation of thought and
feeling. Or an alibi for all of the violence, inequality and social
insanity folded into the open disguise of ordinary things. Or it
can be aflight from numbing routine and all the self-destructive
strategies of carrying on.
It can turn the self into adreaming scene, if only for aminute.
_- -- ~~--~, that there arewild
~, - - --_'-. . ~
me: :. -:: ::_=_0:: -:lawnsticky fingers
- -----;~ babv's cone, silent
- - ,
-~_~~:lspoken agreement
'1.::: ~ - ~ 0 - := T hall. Her sister is
~_ i she'sthe "balloon
-- : ~ :nics of "Itsy Bitsy
~,~ __:~ 'everyone laughs.
I:,-- '- ':: ~:-Hfidgeting at her
Ii:':_-"--:-:-_:-~_~raunts tell graphic
-:: _0 -,'-,erk of remembering
:::.:c:::oholism,accidents,
l!I: 00:' -<::, her mother, peer-
e: _ ::- ~c--.-_--dimpse of scenes at
1::: - :.--.- ::::"~ areading chair or a
~r:urned.
u- -_-.:. - ::.:.:: :~::eSthe liveness of in-
:: ;~';,ending their sensory
_ - _ =_-_ -=-.-_; textures of paint and
ILL:
=_ ==_rf_ :,roduction. A simple
:: =_ -,--dooror a telephone
There was a time when the two women would go on day trips,
traipsing around small Texas towns in various states of preser-
vation and faded beauty. There were town squares rimmed with
ornate, stone-cut German buildings fromthe nineteenth century,
now hosting gift shops or a local campaign headquarters. There
were serendipitous scenes like the cafe that featured pies piled
highwith whipped creamand butter icingandwherethewaitress
describedeveryingredient insupple, lovingdetail. Or theantique
shopwhereawoman with bighair and abigaccent described the
ancient armoires and gilded birdcages that went for asongat last
night's auction. Peoplecame fromall around and left with their
arms full.
Therewasthe little policestation where the twowomen went
to find apublic bathroom. A group of men in uniform talking
about fishingstopped and staredat themfor alongminute. Then
awoman kindly took thembehind the desk.
There was the weeping icon in a monastery on a dusty hill
where the women had to choose wrap-around skirts and head-
scarvesfromabig box by the door beforethey could beushered
into the chapel.
There was the time they sawtwo teenage girls ride bareback
into town, leavingtheir horses untethered behind the dry goods
storewhilethey got icecreamcones.
Theday-tripping hadstruck other people'sfancytoo. Therewas
adaytrips column intheweeklyentertainment paper. Therewere
local travel books to take along to help recall the name of the
fabulous barbeque placewith thegreat pork chops or theauthen-
tic Mexican cantina tucked awayon asidestreet. TheNew York
Times had started aweeklysection of thepaper called"escapes."
But the two women's traipsing seemed intensely private, and
special. Its concrete pleasures and compulsions held the dream
of being "in" alife- itsrhythms, itsstopping to contemplate still
lifes.Theycould rest their eyeson thescenesthey happened into.
They would pick up little tidbits to bring home: Czech pastries,
some peanut brittle, abutter dish in the shape of asleeping cat.
Cabins coveredin creeping vines took on the solidephemerality
of aninhabited place. Local charactersflickeredinandout of view
likedreamfigures. Thewomen would drift into afeelingof possi-
bility and rest.
Thepotential SIO~C'= _:-
and relays.
Fleetingand alT.,:-~:-:
emergent assemblc.SC' ,~ = -"
Yetit can beas:'c-:c., =
Potentiality is c.,:-'__~
perience and dreae. :,', ':
nary, it engenders c. ':'- = ~
unfolding of thins:s.
People are collec:::-~ ~'
metaphorical side ::: = -. =
,heloop or ha,'e0 e= _ _ = ~
:r'thev arethek
2
'c '2 '.
/ ... ~.. ~--- _._1.
The snatchins ::= c.:- = .
something) wid: :.--:'C' =.'
::-ippingover aba~;c-'
arehappening too.
c~c ~~e twOwomen went
, : :-:-, = :" in uniform talking
- 0 lono-minute. Then
- - b
It was certainly not small-town values or clean living they were
after, but rather the way that the synesthetic web of fabulated
sights and tastes made scenes and objects resonate. It was as if
they could dwell in the ongoing vibrancy of the ordinary, leaving
out the dullness and possible darkness.
The imaginary still lifes they carried home from their forays
held thesimple but profound promise of c ontac t.
And thecharged partic ularity of theobjec ts, images, and events
encountered framed the importance of making implicit things
matter.
~~'= ::-.lI featured pies piled
!ll-= ~:_:"z lnd whete thewaitress
1C'::'= , . ' _:"Z detail. Or the antique
~... :..--_::. _=_ =,~ig accent described the
0. . :. -= = -=---,_=_~ ;..-entfor asong at last
--'--.::.~:::':ld and left with their
c - ::._-,-,~en- on a dusty hill
lilt --~.::':ld skirts and head-
lil -=~'.~e~-_e;:could be ushered
tn, ::
1:' ::':c.::' , = ' rillcy too. Therewas
~ ,- _- '-,~.::-:lIpaper. Therewere
- ::.::':::-.:::.11 the name of the
, ::.' ~:::hops or the authen-
, ::. = oueet. The New York
11 d
" "
EC - = --, e::.::.:' e: ca e escapes.
-::- ~ i-:'.Ienselyprivate, and
-:: __'i!Jns held the dream
- , : : . ' : : : , -z to contemplate still
e:~;-.::-s~ they happened into.
- : , : : . , z :-.ome: Czech pastries,
i:c: - :.-:: ':-.dpeof asleeping cat.
e ".:"~:lesolid ephemerality
r'c:-: =-=_.:::::-:-ed inand out of view
.. ::. ::.::.~-=-: i:lLOafeeling of possi-
The potential stored in ordinary things is a network of transfers
and relays.
Fleeting and amorphous, it livesasaresidue or resonance in an
emergent assemblage of disparate forms and realms of life.
Yetit can beaspalpable asaphysical trace.
Potentiality is a thing immanent to fragments of sensory ex-
perience and dreams of presence. A layer, or layering to the ordi-
nary, it engenders attachments or systems of investment in the
unfolding of things.
!--;, -::::::. ::.z:::- girls ride bareback
IJC,'=-=--::::e::. :::,::-hindthe dry goods
People are collecting found objects snatched off the literal or
metaphorical side of the road. Things that have dropped out of
theloop or havebeen left sagging somewhere aredragged home as
if they arethe literal residues of past dreaming practices.
The snatching practice mixes a longing for a real world (or
something) with the consumer's little dream of spying agem or
tripping over abargain. And in the mix, all kinds of other things
arehappening too.
Andrew, out scavengingthe neighborhood, finds aletter written
in1914 byanoldwoman to her nephew goingto medical school.
It'slikealetter inabottle. A curiosity piece. Peopleliketolook at
it and hold itsyellowedstationary intheir hands.
Sunday nnd dawned dazzlingly fair but still too coldfor comfort.
However, I braved theblast to giveabirthday greeting to afriend-a
Dutch woman born in Holland, whose cake blazed with one hun-
dred candles. I took as a little offering a pretty birthday card and
abox of orange blossoms. The beautiful sprays were cut from rwo
trees of the Louisiana orange I bought and my daughter Faith and I
planted ourselvesthreeyearsago. Thecoldseemsnot to havetouched
them and I learn that this treewill liveand thrive in atemperature
of eighteen degrees. Well, the lady in attendance on the sweet cente-
narian selectedatiny wreath of the fragrant white buds and blossoms
nestling inthe glossygreenleaves, and pinned it on theblack silkcap
of the old, old lady. The room was crowded-everyone applauded
and the recipient was charmed. The first orange blossoms she had
worn sinceher young girlhood's marriage.
I trust all this doesn't bore your majesty-crowned with the
weighty and mighty honor of rwenty-one years!I'mgladyou haveto
work-a boy isgravelyhandicapped who hasawell-filledpurse. God
speedyou to atrue andworthy success!No matter ifI do believethat
work-honorable work-is the salt that savorslife, had I money I'd
fill your purse, I would. As it is-keep your dawn unsullied-and
work for your purpose.
The strangely vibrant rhetoric of the letter makes it a "some-
thing" in itself, asif it could embody the conventions of apast
timeandyet alsodefYcapture.
Ordinary scenes ca~ ~e::-:::
story let out of the~~; .
Matter can shic:-::.e::c
weight of receivedC~~~~_
Onedayshe's\\'aL=-:_-_:: :.-~
California (where, a' :':--:
the trash cans sit c:-_--
rows"). Shecomesa:::
parked at the curb
door are the word: .~
your-faceattitude. :~ : a:
~.:-_~saletter written
~_;: ~ J' medical schooL
- " ~-~J:,letiketo look at
Her neighbor advertises his moving salein the paper. He's got
quality items: a new couch, oak bookshelves, and major appli-
ances. By sevenAM a hundred people are gathered outside the
gates. It's atense and strangely vital scene as strangers, bent on
getting stuff, half bond and half viefor the best placeto rush the
gateswhen they open. One man goesand getscoffeeand donuts
toshare. A woman andher daughter strategizeabout howto reach
before anyone elseboth the media console sitting at the far end
of the yard and thewashing machine propped up on adolly in
the driveway. A grandmother isahabitual yard-saler. Shelaughs
about howit got sobad shehad to buy apickup truck and build
asecond garageto storeall thestuff.
Nowbodies begintomaneuver andalign. When thegatesopen
at eight they rush in. Byten, everything hasbeen carted away.
~:':'cold for comfort.
- c-oo-;no- to afriend-a
- _. :- - - - - - - - 0
__:: : _:2edwith one hun-
: '::-=-:- birthday card and
: -.:--, ',':erecut from two
: - '::':clghter Faith and I
_ _,~_, :Lotto havetouched
.' :. ~.-.:: __ :e in atemperature
- .. :.:.:-_:::0:1 the sweet cente-
_-._~:: Dudsand blossoms
. - c:' _~Jr, the black silk cap
:.~:.- ::-,-eryoneapplauded
::.'.ze blossoms she had
"-- crowned with the
:-:':' = ':11 glad you have to
. = -- .:-ell-filled purse. God
-:-.:-:-:::: if! do believe that
::'it'<e, had I money I'd
...: '::':"\"nunsullied-and
Ordinary scenes can tempt the passerby with the promise of a
story let out of thebag.
Matter can shimmer with undetermined potential and the
weight of receivedmeaning.
Onedayshe'swalkingthrough thegatedcommunities ofIrvine,
California (where, assomewho can't affordto livethere, say,"All
the trash cans sit on doilies and all the weeds grow in perfect
rows"). Shecomes acrossalate-model, fire-engine-red Fordsedan
parked at the curb on acul-de-sac. Sprawled across the driver's
door are the words "PMS POWERED." A snazzy car with an in-
your-faceattitude, it back talksthesocial snickering of PMS jokes.
: ::-:-:::: makes it a"some-
-.':: :.-':1Yentionsof apast
Sheimagines thecar driving around town asthemovingsceneof
anattitude adjustment.
But when shewalks around the car, she sees that both tires
on that sidearemissing. Thecar isactually listingon onehastily
placedjack left either by thievesinahurry or by theharried car-
owner in the middle of acompound problem. Now the car be-
comes another kind of thing. More complicated. Perchedon the
unpredictable or unimagined edge of the ordinary, it takes on
thefull chargeof potential's two twisted poles-up or down, one
thing or another. It sparks in the tension between drudgery and
routine-the barelyholding on-and theflashof event.
She'sdriving across the TexasPanhandle with a friend. A hotel
risesup out of the cotton fields like amirage in the middle of
nowhere. They stop for the night. There isonly the hotel, agas
station, and atruck stopsurrounded byfieldsandhighwaysasfar
asyoucansee.
Theyfloatinthebigfamilypool inthelobbyatrium. It'sfull of
exoticplants. Twostairwayscascadedown fromthebalconies on
thesecondand third floors. A fewpeopleareeatingintherestau-
rant. Thebar onthesecondfloor isempty. Thesceneisalittleflat,
dead, not quite right. It'slikean imitation mall in aplacewhere
mall culture has not quite taken off yet, eventhough thewhole
thing lookssofiveminutes agorelativeto moreurban-suburban-
exurban places. It's like a partially realized (or, in other words,
failed) miracle. A fantasytentacle floating inthestormy placidity
of the nowhere of dully compelling forcepeppered by dreams of
getting out or something.
Theywalkacrossthestreet totheRipGriffintruck stop. Half a
dozen oldmen aresitting at thecounter tellingstories, bragging,
and making public performances out of teasing each other. She
==0~hat both tires
~~=- _ ~on onehastily
~ =- - =~,,- e harried car-
e- :- _ ~~'- J W the car be-
:c - =~Perched on the
: ~~ lIl- , it takes on
_ - ''':':J or down, one
=0- :- '=:- :1drudgery and
_=_- _ 1friend. A hotel
- ~e- .::::- i:1the middle of
: =- _> the hotel, agas
::..:l..,d highwaysasfar
: ==- - atrium. It'sfull of
- ~::- ::l thebalconies on
- 0~:- inaintherestau-
~- _~l b
- - =- . - :- oceneisalittleflat,
- .- - :=~linaplacewhere
::- =- _ though thewhole
.- - :- ::e urban- suburban-
::::. 'Of. in other words,
~ = _=- =hestormy placidity
. ~ ~ =- =??ered by dreams of
.:- ~~:==~n truck stop. Half a
.- :- :=_:i:1gstories, bragging,
- - ~:,ina each other. She
. - - ~ L:l
imagines their homes in a small town somewhere out of sight
across the fields, and how they must come to sit in this place
because it's connected to "the road" and the real and imagined
modes of traveling that ride its back. The scenehas the moving
stillnessof anapparition of somekind of lifemarked assouthern,
or western, or rural, or small town, or ranch, or something.
Asthetwowomen walk in, theoldmen turn tolook, stopping
in mid sentence. They hold the silent starefor what seemsto her
likeashockingly longtime. Then they return totheir businessbur
they keep shooting looks back at them, obviously awarenot so
much of having an audience, shethinks, asof having somekind
of potential to plumb fromthesceneof thetwowomen traveling
together. As if strangers entering fromthe highway bring some-
thing with them. Or at least "strange" strangers in the middle of
somekind of situation or event.
A fewyears later, shestops again. The truck stop has become
ashiny yellowmini mall with aPizzaHut, aBurger King, and a
southern fast food placecalled Grandy's. It stinks of plastic. The
old men havemigrated to thehotel restaurant, which isnow full
of peopleandloudwith banter. Everyoneissmoking. There'sonly
atiny nonsmoking section tucked awayinanisolated corner.
Thehotel pool isclosedtoguestsbecausethere'sawedding. On
thewayback to her room, shestops towatch. Thebridedescends
the open stairway. The pool has been decorated with tea lights,
soit takes on the glamorous glowof amini Taj Mahal. Themen
inthewedding party all wear black cowboy hats and boots, black
jeans, and white shirts. The ceremony is brief and the reception
that followsconsists of sheet cake, potluck dinner, and nonalco-
holic drinks. It seemsunbelievably subdued for awedding.
When shereturns onelasttimeafewyearslater, thehotel looks
old and rundown. Her roomsmellsof smokeand mold. Theres-
taurant has closed. The hotel manager saysit's too bad but they
just can't keepgoodhelp. "Theygoback onwelfare."
She crossesthe street to the truck stop where an industrious
youngwoman inuniform iswashing thefloorsintheyellowfood
court. The young woman takes the trouble to ask the cook at
the Grandy's to make another steak even though it's technically
closingtime.
Shereadsthelocal paper assheeats. A man isfound not guilty
by reason of insanity in his dad's murder. Turns out he's been
having auditory and visual hallucinations for more than twenty
years. A bridge has collapsed and divers have recovered more
bodies fromthe river. There has been ahead- on collision of two
trains. No one knows how the two trains got on the sametrack.
A bolt of lightning has killedatwelve- year- old boy. A fewof the
high school graduates arereceivingsmall scholarships of $200 or
$300, therearewinning lottery numbers, theauthor of theNancy
Drew detectiveseriesdies at ninety- six, the authorities sayit was
afeud that ledto theslayingof aSouth Texasmanwho had been
shot and dragged by his ankles several blocks behind apick- up
truck. Two men are arrested for stealing street signs after the
police receiveatip, aman reports someone putting water in the
gastank of his vehicle, awoman reports subjects dumping dead
animals and trash intwovacant lots, two gasstation clerksreport
gasdrive- offs intheamounts of $9.30 and $3.00.
Assheleaves, shereadsthe community bulletin boards by the
door. There are people looking for odd jobs. There are ads for
exerciseclasses, diet pills ("I lost 40 pounds in three months!").
Therearealot of adsfor usedcars('84 Lincoln Continental, fully
loaded). Therearepublic serviceannouncements for low- income
services, a domestic abuse hotline, and the Texas runaway hot-
line. There are pictures of missing children. There are legal ads
("trafficticket problems?"), church ads(Full Gospel Holy Temple
Broadcast of Deliverance), adsfor medical insurance, andbaseball
schedules.
Theseareonly glimpses of apublic culture shifting over time.
Partial scenessaturated with expectations, impressions too easily
A world of shared bc.:- _,-
hausting underw\\- ,
picture of staged pc:- :- '= ::. -
senseof shock or re~:,,:'~: :-
A weirdly floati:1[
enters amall, or \Y ::',,:- ,
nds, watching scene, _:- .::
gathered into a narrative of social decline (or whatever). These
Boatingimagesdo not begin to approach what might behappen-
ing to the ordinary in this time or place. It'sjust that the images
strikeher, seemto unfold into apuzzle'spiecesor topromisesome
direct lineinto what'shappening somewhere- in someplace, this
littlecorner inthecotton fields.Y oucould say,of course, that the
imagesthat strikeher inpassinghide asmuch asthey reveal. But
youcouldalsosaythey mean onlyexactlywhat they say- Look at
this! Imagine that! Things happen! Here's something that might
befor you! It'sthepayingattention that matters- akind of atten-
tion immersed in the forms of the ordinary but noticing things
too.
Bynow, RipGriffinhasaWebsitewith theheadline "Afamily
owned and operated business." It's acorporate myth with mean-
ingsthat Bash. "Sincetheearlydaysof the PonyExpressrider ...
evolvedinto modern travel centers ... Rip Griffin started his
corporation with a one- pump gasoline station it has since
grown to a $250 million company ... with Truck and Travel
Centers in Texas, New Mexico, Colorado, California, Arizona,
Wyoming and Arkansas." But no onewho enters the truck stop
for acokeor ameal caresabout theWeb siteor corporate mean-
ingsper se.
:~,~:- ~ [heyellowfood
- ~e::: ask the cook at
~: : - :.- ~:":'=Q it's technically
- - ~.~, ~oundnot guilty
: e' - =- ..:. . r~sout he's been
lII;:,:L!:. - ~': ~ ..- ::- lore than twenty
- ~~~:'recovered more
- :'c':'- ::: collision of two
1lIIi" - ~ :: ::: ~:1[hesametrack.
::- ~- :.: bov. A fewof the
::- ~.- ,- . shipsof $200 or
~- e~..:.:horof theNancy
~- e~":'::1oritiessayit was
- :- :':=- - , ~an who had been
: :::~behind apick- up
h1" ~~_ - ; ::"':'cI signs after the
. - :' - ..- ..:.rring water in the
_.:'ccsdumping dead
; :..: 'c~cionclerksreport
- - ~~~:,dnboards by the
: :c,. There are ads for
- _.::' ~:- .three months!").
- :::.:- ~Continental, fully
_~-:e::::':- ~:stor low- income
- : ~- :' - =- :,:\:a5 runaway hot-
::e:c. - ~lereare legal ads
- ::__~:; ospel Holy Temple
::.'..:. . ance, andbaseball
~_ . _~:'shifting over time.
.:::~?ressions too easily
A world of shared banalities can beabasisof sociality, or an ex-
hausting undertow, or just something to do. It can pop up as a
picture of staged perfection, asamomentary recognition, or asa
senseof shock or relief at being "in" something with others.
A weirdly Boating "we" snaps into a blurry focus when one
enters amall, or when one is Bipping through reality Tv chan-
nels, watching scenesunfold: thesimulated thunderstorms tacked
onto the national map on the weather channel; the bedroom
transformed into anexoticdreamroomontheextreme- makeover
shows; or themeal madelikemagic onthecooking channel.
The animate surfaceof ordinary affectsrests its laurels in the
banality of built environments and corporate cliches.
The "we" incites participation and takes on alifeof its own,
evenreflectingits ownpresence.
8
It'sathing that happens when
e- mailswithjoking commentary showupinyour in- box andyou
passthemon for somereason. Or when intimate public slogans
float into acollectivemode of address: "Knowwhat I'msayin'?"
"That'sjust wrong," "I don't THINK so," "That'swhat I'mtalkin'
about," "I hear you," "It'sall good." Or when bumper stickerstalk
back to eachother asif they can't helpit: "Shit happens," "Magic
happens," "Mychildisanhonor student," "Mychildbeat upyour
honor student," "Just sayno," "Just do it," "VoteBush," "I voted
for Bush and got Dick," "Bush isapunk asschump," "Bushbin
Lyin'."
Wetakeour cuessodirectly fromcirculating forcesthat theterm
"hardwired" hasbecomeshorthand for thestateof things.
Little undulations arefelt as pleasures and warning signs, as
intoxications and repetitions indailyroutine.
In "JulyMountain.
incipient universe.
Weirdlycollectivesensibilitiesseemtopulseinplain sight.
Awoman showsupat her door inthemiddle of theafternoon.
8 SeeMichaelWarner,Publics and Counterpublics (NewY ork:Zone
Books, 1997).
____ , ,ne bedroom
- _-~~::,,; :me- makeover
: ::- ~_~channel.
._ :: _:s laurels in the
She and her husband are thinking of buying the big house across
the street. She wants to know if anyone in the neighborhood uses
chemicals on their lawns, or if anyone uses dryer sheets.
At first, she has to ask the woman what a dryer sheet is. But
then images pop into her head: the sweet smell of dryer sheets
coming in with the breeze on a cloudless day, the bright blue sky
and the flowers in the yards, the little orange flags sticking up out
of the grass at the schoolyard, warning that chemicals have been
sprayed, the ChemLawn trucks parked up on widows' hill in front
of the places with the big lawns.
She mutters ashorthand version of these things to the woman
standing at her door, but really all it takes is alook and the woman
is gone, leaving little seeds of anxiety to sprout.
- -'.~ile of its own,
- ~:- - _- '.:happens when
_, i::l- box and you
, - - _- '.:; : public slogans
'I' . ' " " 1 "
- '- ,_at m saym,
- - - '.:' 'i,- hat I'm talkin'
: - - _"'_:Jer stickers talk
- __: _- _- '.:Jpens,""Magic
_ ::- _ildbeat up your
- ::; : Bush," "I voted
:,_'.:.mp," "Bush bin
" - z ~ : ,:es that the term
- , :- '.::: of things .
.:.".: - ,'.- arning signs, as
The ordinary throws itself together out of forms, flows, powers,
pleasures, encounters, distractions, drudgery, denials, practical
solutions, shape- shifting forms of violence, daydreams, and op-
portunities lost or found.
Or it falters, fails.
But either way we feel its pull.
In "July Mountain," Wallace Stevens describes the poetics of an
incipient universe.
_::_'"plain sight.
.:::'~eof the afternoon.
We livein aconstellation
Of patches and pitches,
Not in asingleworld ...
Theway, when weclimb amountain,
Vermont throws itself together.
The "Vermont" that throws itself together in amoment isal-
ready there as potential. In other words, it's already problema-
tized; already aquestion and asomething waiting to happen. It
exists in the differences and repetitions of a grab bag of quali-
ties and technologies that can be thrown together into an event
and a sensation. It is apotential mapping of disparate and in-
commensurate qualities that do not simply "add up" but instead
link complexly, in difference and through sheer repetition and
not through the enclosures of identity, similarity, or meaning, or
through the logic of code. It is fall colors, maple syrup, tourist
brochures, calendars, snow, country stores; liberalismandyet the
fight over gay marriage; racial homogeneity and yet everywhere
whitelesbiancoupleswith babiesof color; theinflux of NewY ork
wealthlong agorushing into shoreup that certain look of rolling
hills and red barns and yet also the legacyof the dairy industry
written onto thelandscape and property laws; and thequirkiness,
quaintness, dullness, and!or violence of villagelifein this time
and place. The question is not where, exactly, this Vermontness
came from- its "social construction," strictly speaking- but the
moment when a list of incommensurate yet mapped elements
throws itself together into something. Again. One time among
many. An event erupting out of aseriesof connections express-
ingtheabstract idea- Vermontness- through afastsensoryrelay.
Disparate things come together differently in each instance, and
yet therepetition itselfleaves aresiduelikeatrack or ahabit- the
making of alivecliche.
It'san odd scene- c~~- =- ~~
ing about her work=- .:=,:.::
not obsessiveabom:=: " -
pulls out bottles o:',:=- =- - - =- -
of thesewhen I w~:~_: :. 'J
noon. Thesearegooc :':: :::
lotions and rubs the~~~..
He maintains ac-=-:~~_
to begoingwell for ~.~~
A fewminutes lace:
biscuit man, "Of co- .::::
nodding. "Of course, :.
and gravy. His eyes','- =- .:- , :::: ,
therangeof possible:c":: ::'
plateand eats.
Shewonders hO'o- , - .
before Internet dar:L~
local newspaper. i\ k: ~"O'
agedpeopleinthe(,y...:: =-
Just to seewhat ,,'OL.: ,':::
right, eventhough ":, .
Face- to- face interac=:::.
quick relayto floati:::=:::' -
tion that link us.
In LasVegasin r}~e~- =- ==:
adhoc storefront wir~~- =- =. :
with eclecticinexpeLs:: :='
and store areclosed - '~:
usesthespace.
In one meeting a .
Shestops inat acafeon atown squareinOhio.
Two middle- aged people sit awkwardly together at the next
table. A thin, blonde, carefully tanned woman ishaving agrape-
fruit while the heavy- set, pasty man iseating biscuits and gravy.
, ~,~,- '- :noment isal-
",- ~::- - ,- d~' problema-
~_:_~c;TO happen. It
_ :::- - ,- :,bag of quali-
~=~~::- ~into an event
- - - =.- ':Jarateand in-
~~'::''':'F'' but instead
. :=~ rc:petition and
',I'I,r meaning, or
=- '- ; i: : - ,nup, tourist
. ~:- ~:,:n andyet the
- ",- - , ~:.'c:teverywhere
" = , ~ _ = - . . : . s of NewY ork
::'- :- '- ~,look of rolling
- - =_ _ ,:': dairy industry
",- - . ~:hequirkiness,
. . . . =~= .J:~in this time
::,:=~,Vermontness
'- ~:Jina- but the
'_ _- b
.' :- :'- ,- ppedelements
=- " :1C : time among
~.~.c:; ::rions express-
_; . - '-I~'t sensoryrelay.
. ::- - ,- =h instance, and
r- =.::.=,- ~ or ahabit- the
It'san odd scene- clearly their first meeting. Thewoman istalk-
ing about her workout schedule and what sheeats. Shesaysshe's
not obsessiveabout it but shelikesto keepher body inshape. She
pulls out bottles of vitamins and herbal supplements. "I taketwo
of thesewhen I wakeup, thesearewith meals, theseinthe after-
noon. Thesearegoodfor energyif! feel alittlelow."Shetakesout
lotions and rubs theminto her skin.
He maintains acareful look of interest. But things don't seem
to begoingwell for him.
A fewminutes later shehears the grapefruit woman sayto the
biscuit man, "Of course, you'd haveto losethirty pounds." He's
nodding. "Of course, oh yes." He's looking down at his biscuits
and gravy. His eyeswander around the tableat alevel well below
therangeof possibleeyecontact. Then helowershisheadover his
plateand eats.
Shewonders how these two people found each other. This is
before Internet dating, so maybe they used personal ads in the
local newspaper. Maybe they were the only two single, middle-
agedpeople inthecounty. Whatever it was, it wasanexperiment.
Just to seewhat would happen. And things werehappening, all
right, eventhough "it" wasso"not happening."
.::. :zc:.::.her at the next
- ~_ ~,having agrape-
- ; ~is; ::uitsand gravy.
Face- to- face interactions and common encounters jump in a
quick relayto floating sensibilities and the conditions of connec-
tion that link us.
In LasVegasin the late 1980s, apost officeoutpost shares an
adhoc storefront with aflower shop and agift shopsparselyfilled
with eclecticinexpensiveceramics. At noon, when thepost office
and storeareclosed for lunch, acolor therapy group sometimes
usesthespace.
In one meeting a dozen people sit in a circleon gray- metal
folding chairs. One man istalking about arelationship problem
that has something to do with the fact that he's amagenta. The
people in the group respond with intricate discussions of the
shades of color and color combinations that connect different
personal energies and styles. Then ayoung woman begins to talk
about aproblem at work that stems fromher being ayellow.
Nowalternativehealth practitioners andmysticsadvertisecolor
therapy ontheWeb. Theyusecoloredgemstones, candles, wands,
prisms, light bulbs, water, fabrics, bath treatments, and eyewear
tobalancethebody'senergyandstimulate healing. Eachcolor has
avibrational frequency; warmcolors arestimulating; cool colors
arecalming; astrong attraction to certain colors might signal a
particular imbalance.
Youcan playa gamewith color codes if you want to. Red is
active, daring, passionate, and optimistic. Red people arecoura-
geous, confident, humanistic, strong-willed, spontaneous, hon-
est, and extroverted. Purple isgrand, idealistic, and sensitive, but
may lack self-criticism and maturity. Purple people make good
inspirational leaders. Theyarekindly andjust, humanitarian, self-
sacrificing, visionary, creative, and strong mentally. Magenta is
lessaggressiveand more spiritual than red and alsomore practi-
cal than purple. Yellowisintellectual and communicative. Yellow
people are good-humored, optimistic, confident, practical, and
intellectual.
You can imagine yourself through the model of one of the
types. Or against it. Maybe you'd like to be orange. Orange is
moreambitious and self-sufficient than red, but lacksitswarmth.
It has the intelligence of yellow without its loftiness. Orange
people are enthusiastic, happy, sociable, energetic, sporty, self-
assured, and constructive. But then you might think you'reactu-
allyprobably closer to agreen. And that's on agood day. Green
is healing, sympathetic, steadfast, and restrained. Green people
areunderstanding, self-controlled, adaptable, sympathetic, com-
passionate, humble, generous, nature loving, and romantic. You
might beginto pieceto:~~:-~~: :
making things up.
But the people \'vhe ~: ~=;
colorsassymbolsor coC~,.-= -~-:-
colorsand what the\,-G:':-~.~: -:-
They'refooling arounc "-
aremadeof Theywam ~::~ ~
talking things over witt
Meanwhile, down the,,:::~
that thecolor therap:~g:: _~
cal factory explodes ac": :.
Nevada.
The FEMA hearincr, --: c'
t:'~'----::-
Small businesseshave
carrying dangerous ch::-:~~:
of backyards where in= --~:..: ~__~_
bigbusiness operations '_:::: -
of callousdisregard for ~:.~_:: ~
Shestarts talking \,,~: t:-.~~-:~:
owners. He feelssligh'::": ::' _
frontations with local F=~~~~: ~
arefights. They'rediggi= --.; :. ~::
voting hislifetotheC2':": ::-::
distance phone calls :',:'- -
unearth stories: the vo':'= --~~ -..:...
poisonous snakes in i:, :::c "--=
everything in the blast: ~~-~: '~-
looking for peaceor sc:-:~::_-_~
sound of windows and
and the smell of gas.
__- ::-_,~ipproblem
- -=-- :-:'2.genta.The
- = -_:-.:-ssionsof the
- - -:: -_:-_~;::L different
-- :-~~(Tins to talk
_0--- -'-:::-
,- -:~_:-_: 2.nllow.
::' 2.dnrtise color
_, -:2.-1dles, wands,
, - ~:-_:O. and eyewear
,__,-_: Each color has
- _-=--:::-.~:cool colors
::' Tight signal a
might begin to piece together combinations of colors and blends,
making things up.
But the people who are really into color therapy don't read
colors assymbols or codes. They're into the real surface qualities of
colors and what they can do. They don't carewhat colors "mean."
They're fooling around with the forces that be, to seewhat things
aremade of. They want to set things inalchemical motion. They're
talking things over with like-minded people. Younever know.
: _ ".am to. Red is
- _= -~~:ple are coura-
::: :1:aneous, hon-
,- sensitive, but
,. c' : ~y::, le make good
- ~,-.:-~anitarian,self-
... c':-.:jl:-. Magenta is
_~= -':":'50 more practi-
_ :-:'_:-:,'-.:-rricative. Yellow
- ~= -c':_:,practical, and
Meanwhile, down the street, at practically thevery same moment
that the color therapy group ismeeting inthe post office, achemi-
cal factory explodes and blows up half the town of Henderson,
Nevada.
The FEMA hearings drag on for months. There is testimony.
Small businesses have been ruined by the blast. Unmarked trains
carrying dangerous chemicals have been running along the edges
of backyards where innocent children play. There's talk of secret
big business operations supported by the federal government and
of callous disregard for future generations.
Shestarts talking with the defacto leader of the small business
owners. He feels slighted by FEMA. He and the others have con-
frontations with local politicians. There aresinister threats. There
are fights. They're digging for dirt and finding plenty. Bob is de-
voting his lifeto the cause. He spends hundreds of dollars on long
distance phone calls every month. He organizes a campaign to
unearth stories: the young man who was raising tarantulas and
poisonous snakes in his apartment to pay for college and lost
everything in the blast; the retired couple who came to the town
looking for peace or something and who awoke that night to the
sound of windows and glass doors smashing all over the house
and the smell of gas.
-- :::.d of one of the
. ::ange. Orange is
-:..::~acksitswarmth.
:: ~oftiness. Orange
_:-,~: ~c'[ic, sporty, self-
-~:,: chink you're actu-
::-_2.good day. Green
::2.-:lcd.Green people
__ ,-,-mpathetic, com-
_ 2.-1dromantic. You
When Boband theother small businessownersgetno satisfac-
tion fromthe government, they decide to takethings into their
own hands. They comeupwith an ideato start over by building
achemical factory of their own. They alreadyknow plenty about
manufacturing. ThisisAmericaand they cando anything. Some-
onesaysheknows anengineer who'll work with them. Nowthey
just needsomeonewho knows something about chemicals.
Things keepgettingworse. Bobiscallingher everynight. Then
he'spiecing together aconspiracy too big to talk about over the
phone. She meets him in a church parking lot on the edge of
town. Thesunset isspectacular. Bobwants totell her hislifestory:
the big, beautiful, wild Nevada of his childhood; hunting and
fishinginapureland; hisreturn, yearslater, tostart hisownbusi-
ness and raisehis children right; then the explosion, just when
hewasbeginning to get on his feet again. Now there aredayshe
just wants toendit all. Hetakeshissonfishingupat thelakeand
they'refloating in apristine scene. He hashis gun with himand
he'sgoingto blowhisheadoff. Becausehe'sthekind of guywho,
ifhe comestothebottom of amountain, heelimbsit, straight up,
no problem, that's just who heis. But the systemisthrowing up
roadblocks infront of himsohecan't evenget tothemountain to
dighisheelsinand start working.
It's getting dark. He's talking too much about himself. She
saysshe's talked to other people who have experiences like his
and think the way he does. This makes him mad (much to her
surprise). He'sanindividual. There'sno oneintheworldlikehim.
He isn't like anything. He comes on to her. Shegetsout of there
but nowshe'sanxious and her stomach isqueasy. He keeps call-
ing. Shevisits him once more-this time at his house with his
wifeand children. There'sno furniture left inthehouse. Theysit
on the carpet in the empty livingroomand eat pizzaout of the
box. Everyone'sveryquiet. It'sscaryand depressing; there'ssome-
thingjust alittlebit "off' andterriblywrong. Nowhe'smumbling
bitterly about things shecan't quite hear and then shehalf real-
izeshis talk has becoT~ -
happening. Theair gOe'
moving toward the -, -" .
leavesthehouse. He c~.'
to report on the pro:;~~':
himon thephone, no: ~~.::
ingher distance (too l,,-:~
Watching andwaitim: ~.-'-:~..
She'sno different f~c~. -'---
. "p . I" b
mg ayattentIOn.' C::~.:.
idea.
Hypervigilance has :-'--':~--
pulsiveswho keepelm:: :::0:,..
L iketheguy sheheard "-~: .... :.
liferecording everyth:,.~.-.::_'
splashed coldwater 0" .-:: ~:. ....
thebathroom, 6:45 m,,-d~... ::-:.:.
Or there arethose ;:~:~:_~:.
ganwheresheand n\o: :.-.~-:..:
houses. Theneighbor's::'. ~~.
hiswalksin thewoods..-..: . :J .
into Polishfolkdances".-.~:~.
dancefloor together, d-.e~.:.~''::
licchurch intown. Or.:: ;:: - ,
gathered at oneof thei~~.:..:::
of himself walking aroc:..~.:. -- ~
(At the same time he ~':
without explanation. -=:-.~.....-::
haveaniceevening.) _~-=-:~~:..::.
home video. They hear ;-.. _ 0:
-~~:~'get no satisfac-
.~~~-~incrsinto their
~-- -" -0
- -.: .:.~.erby building
~:.:-~ .:.' .. ~plenty about
- ~: -= ..n\L :hing. Some-
~- ~_ ~lem. Now they
-< _ ~:iemicals.
-:--:~:""'0'night. Then
.:.~_-: about over the
-; :.:. :mthe edge of
.:.:_~",rhislifestory:
~-_~.:.::.:hunting and
-~'.:.-= ..:t his own busi-
=::? "~5ion, just when
~: ~.c~::.~erearedays he
-~..:.::' at the lakeand
~..:.nwith him and
-_-: ~;:indof guywho,
= :~~_--:_:'5 it, straight up,
-:.:."':-::-_ isthrowing up
-,.:..:.:~'lemountain to
izeshis talk has become lewd and is directed at her. This can't be
happening. The air goes out of the room. Shestands up and starts
moving toward the door. Shethanks his now wide-eyed wife. She
leaves the house. He calls only once more, acouple of days later,
to report on the progress of his casewith FEMA. She's cool with
him on the phone, not encouraging him to keep in touch. Keep-
ing her distance (too late).
-=-::: y~[ himself. She
:c:riences like his
- ~:-=-i (much to her
- ::.-_C ,,"';oddlikehim.
;:-: gets out of there
.:. _ c -=..5~". He keeps call-
e':' _-_:, house with his
-- :_~:house. They sit
.- _~-.:. :-=-: Dizzaout of the
. h'
_"= ~:c":::lg; teres some-
:- ~".:.'.'.~ he'smumbling
_- ~::-c",nshe half real-
Watching and waiting has become asensory habit.
She's no different from anyone else. All her lifeshe's been yell-
ing "Pay attentionl" but now she's not so sure that's such agood
idea.
Hypervigilance has taken root. There are the obsessive com-
pulsives who keep closetrack of everything because they have to.
L ike the guy sheheard about on the radio who spends his whole
liferecording everything he does. "Got up at 6:30 AM, still dark,
splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, 6:40 went to
the bathroom, 6:45 made tea, birds started in at 6:53 ... "
Or there are those like the neighbor on alittle lake in Michi-
gan where sheand two other anthropologists livein arowoflittle
houses. Theneighbor's hobby isvideo taping everymovehemakes:
his walks in the woods, his rides in his Model T Ford, his forays
into Polish folk dances where oldwomen go round and round the
dance aoor together, the monthly spaghetti suppers at the Catho-
lic church in town. One night when the three anthropologists are
gathered at one of their houses he stops by to givethem avideo
of himself walking around the lake in the winter snow and ice.
(At the same time he also gives them an xxx-rated porn video
without explanation. Then he just leaves, saying he hopes they
have anice evening.) After dinner, they settle down to watch his
home video. They hear his every breath and footstep. There are
somedeer droppings on thepath and somesnowpiles that have
suspicious shapes. Then he'swalking up to Bob andAlice'scabin
(they'rein Florida for thewinter) and he'szooming inon amas-
sivelump pushing out theblack plasticwrapped around thebase
of the house. Uh-oh. Could be icefrom a broken water main.
Maybethewholehouse isfull of ice. Hewonders what will hap-
pen when the (possible) icethaws. Could beareal problem. He
saysmaybehe'll sendacopy of hisvideo to BobandAlicedown
in Florida. Then hemoveson. Back to the breathing, the icicles,
thefootsteps inthesnow.Things are(potentially) happening and
heisin the habit of paying strict visual attention. But heis not
necessarilyin the habit of getting to the bottom of things or of
making adecisionor ajudgment about what todo. He ismaking
arecord of his own ordinary attention to things and it's this-
therecordof hisattention-that heshares, indiscriminately, with
theanthropologists gatherednext door andmaybewith poor Bob
and Alicedown in Florida. Possibilitiesand threats that pop up
in theprocessremain lodged inthe actual look of things and are
preservedassuch. He'sanextremist, pushing things for somerea-
son, but the close, recorded attention to what happens and to
theintense materiality of things makesomekind of senseto alot
of people and not just when they'rewatching America's Funniest
Home Videos or realityTV.
There arethose who giveshape to their everyday by mining
it for something different or special. L ikeher friends, J oyceand
Bob, who livein thewoods inNew Hampshire. He isalumber-
jack. ShecleansthelittleI950S tourist cabinswith nameslikeSwiss
Villageand Shangri-L a. J oycelefther husband and four kidsafter
yearsof livingstraight in aregimeof beatings under the sign of
J esus. Shewent out the back window one day and never looked
back. Then shemet Bobwhen shewastending bar and they took
awalk on the wild side together that lasted for a dozen happy
years (though not without trouble, and plenty of it). Shelet him
havehisdrinking problembecauseheworked hard. Hewould hit
Theanthropologisrs ~:~:=-.:.
poking around. The' ~=-.-,-::,
huts on the frozenl'e-:-::-=---
sit down onthebenc~_-
Not even"Who are-::.
sit together in awile. .:c-'
holeintheiceto the:: ~~=-
asinglequestion that :::~:."
When they take\,.-~~:::-
They are more talL e::--:
anthropologists to kr.: -, :",
some other hunters ""=-: :_
nice. They'vebeentoc: __~::::
~~:~'.piles that have
~~::"-red.L '\lice'scabin
:~_:::_ginon amas-
": ::::.:."-::oundthebase
c ::::: ::::nwater main.
".:.::::, \\-hatwill hap-
_" :::: "-::::J problem. He
:= ::: "--''1d Alicedown
::::::"-~~ing, the icicles,
-~"--_-iappening and
_"::~.:~:::". But he isnot
- ~-:: ~_of things or of
- c-:: 20. Heismaking
-_- __::~:::' and it's this-
::..:.~, :::::minately,with
_~:--:~:c~~~:: \\~ithpoor Bob
":: ~-_:::arsthat pop up
~~__ rhings and are
-;: ~-:~::.:s for somerea-
= ~.:.: iappens and to
-- : ~'=-::-.':of senseto alot
- ".:::_-:'i!{'i'icas Funniest
the bottle when hegot home at night and all weekend long. She
calledhimDaddy eventhough shewasagoodtenyearsolder and
pushing fifty.
They moved from rental cabin to rental cabin in the north
woods. They invited raccoons into their cabin asif theywerepets.
Theygot up at 5AM towriteintheir diaries. When they got home
at night they would read their daily entries out loud and look at
theartsypictures Bobtook of treetops and beenests. Finally, they
wereableto get alow-income loan to buy alittlefixer-upper they
had found in some godforsaken place on the north side of the
lake.
But then acardcamefromJ oycethat saidBobhad left her for
"that floozy"hemet inabar.
Shewonders if J oycestill keeps adiary, if shestill fancies the
serendipitous discoveryof happiness andlooksfor waystodeposit
it in the ordinary, or if something elsehas happened to her ordi-
nary.
:~::::-dayby mining
~-::: ~::::nds,J oyceand
::"_.:::. He isalumber-
_:!" :lameslikeSwiss
- ..".:."--= ,_d four kidsafter
::-;o_:lder the sign of
-: ::.:- ':'L dnever looked
- = _= ;::a and they took
~::.:.::-:':a dozen happy
- _" =-~:::- ir). Shelet him
:.:._-_ad.Hewould hit
The anthropologists keep doing the fun things they do together,
poking around. They knock on the doors of the littlefishermen's
huts on the frozen lake. They invite themselves in for avisit and
sit down on thebench inside. But thefishermen don't sayathing.
Not even"Who areyou?" or "What areyou doing here?" Sothey
sit together in awild, awkward silencestaring down through the
holeinthe iceto thedeep, dark waters below. Theycan't think of
asinglequestion that makes any senseat all.
When they takewalksinthewoods, they comeacrosshunters.
They are more talkative than the icefishermen. They want the
anthropologists to know that they aren't "Bambi killers." Maybe
some other hunters are, but not them, the new breed. They're
nice. They'vebeen to collegeand havethings to sayabout politics
and the environment and the state. Most of the time there's a
woman inthegroup. They'reteaching her to hunt.
The gamewardens are the bad guys. Everyone cowers when
they come around abend looking for poachers. They drivepost-
apocalyptic carswith burned paint that havebeenspeciallyoutfit-
tedwith giant guns and spotlights mounted on thehood. Rogue,
mean-looking guys, they fixhard stares on you and you can see
the muscles jump under their camouflage suits. These guys are
J umpy.
In Austin, joggers passing over the high bridge on the river stop
to stretch their hamstrings on themetal rails.Theexpansivescene
fromthe bridge suspends elements together in astill life: fisher-
men sit upright in flat-bottomed boats; giant blue herons perch
ondrowned cottonwoods; limestone mansions onthecliffsabove
throwreflectionshalfwayacrosstheriver.Crewboatsglidesilently
over thewater. A riverboat thrusts itself slowlyuptheriver, dredg-
ingthehard massof thewater up and over itswheel.
At times, the bridge isastagefor human dramas of intimacy,
rage, quiet desperation, or simplepleasure.
One morning acrude sign is taped to the railing. At the top
of thesign, two names, ANGEL A AND J ERRY, areslashedthrough
with big black Xs. Belowthe names, the sign reads: REL ATION-
SHIP DESTROYED, WITH MAL ICE, BY FEDERAL AGENTS &A.P.D.
[AustinPoliceDepartment] FOR BEL IEFS GUARANTEED UNDER
U.S. CONSTITUTIONAL BIL L OF RIGHTS. I MISS YOU ANGEL A,
J ESSICA, &FURRY DOG REEF. It'ssignedAL WAYS, J ERRY. Below
the signature, the words YANKEE GIRL are encased in apierced
heart and thewords PL EASE COME BACK arehighlighted with a
thick black border. At thebottom of thepage, thesigncontinues:
::- ::.,;: time there's a
~_-':'~lt.
- = = --.Y:le cowers when
: _:~_= :'.They drive post-
= ::' eenspecially outfit-
_- -= ::.:~_:he hood. Rogue,
- --:~and you can see
- ;-':'::5. These guys are
ANGEL A, J ESSICA AND FURRY DOG REEF ... I MISS YOU. MAY
GOD HAVE MERCY ON THE SOUL S OF THE HATEFUL , VINDIC-
TIVE PEOPL E WHO CONSPIRED TO TAKE YOU FROM ME, AND
DID SO WITH SUCCESS. ANGEL A, I WIL L L OVE YOU AL WAYS
AND FOREVER. I MISS YOU BABE, J ERRY. Then another pierced
heart memorializes YANKEE GIRL . On the ground beneath the
sign there isashrine of yellow ribbons and aSacred Heart of J esus
votive candle with half-burned sticks of incense stuck into the
:.. :: ::.~eon the river stop
-= -:.,;: expansive scene
::'c -.' ":: _::. astill life: fisher-
::..:....-_: ~lue herons perch
. : ~.S on the cliffsabove
=:e ~oats glidesilently
.. _--'",p the river, dredg-
= : .:' ",.-heel.
. -.:....:_:::amas of intimacy,
wax.
The sign isboth cryptic and crystal clear. Its fury quivers in its
wavering letters. It does not ask to beinterpreted, but heaves itself
at the world, slashing at it like the self-slashing of people who cut
themselves to feel alive. This isapoetics ascommon asit isstrik-
ing. It's the kind of thing you seeeveryday in the graffiti written
on train trestles, or in the signs the homeless hold on the side of
the road, in the wild talk of AM radio talk shows, in road rage,
in letters to the editor, or in the barely contained resentments of
workplaces and intimate spaces.
This isthe ordinary affect in the textured, roughened surface of
the everyday. It permeates politics of all kinds with the demand
that some kind of intimate public of onlookers recognize some-
thing in aspace of shared impact.
9
If only for aminute .
People might be touched by it, or hardened to its obnoxious
demands. But either way, a charge passes through the body and
lingers for a little while as an irritation, confusion, judgment,
thrill, or musing. However it strikes us, its significance jumps.
Its visceral force keys asearch to make sense of it, to incorporate
it into an order of meaning. But it lives first as an actual charge
immanent to acts and scenes- arelay.
::.-. :.:_erailing. At the top
_ C c, dIe slashed through
_::.~_ reads: REL ATION-
::.::. :::c_'-.::. .-\GENTS & A.P.D.
:;- -\R--\NTEED UNDER
: '.ass YOU ANGEL A,
. ::.<.T-\YS, J ERRY. Below
: _ :..:=encased in a pierced
.:..:ehighlighted with a
. c : :..~e.the sign continues:
9 For a discussion of "intimate publics," seeL auren Berlant, The
Queen of America Goes to "WashingtonCity: Essays on Sex and Citizenship.
Durham, N.C.: DukeUniversityPress,1997.
Affects arenot somuch forms of signification, or units of knowl-
edge, as they are expressions of ideas or problems performed as
a kind of involuntary and powerful learning and participation.
Alphonso L ingis noted the jump of affect in his description
of touring a mine at the Arctic Circle: "The young miner who
showed me the mine put out every cigarette he smoked on his
hand, which was covered with scar tissue. Then I saw the other
young miners all had the backs of their hands covered with scar
tissue.... when my eyefell on them it Binched, seeing the burn-
ing cigarette being crushed and sensing the pain.... The eyedoes
not read the meaning in a sign; it jumps from the mark to the
pain and the burning cigarette, and then jumps to the fraternity
signaled by the burning cigarettes."lo
Here, the abstracted sign of collective identity-the scar tissue
on the back of everyone's hands-not only retains its tie to the
problems of sense and sociality but demonstrates, or proposes,
an extreme trajectory. It shows where things can go, taking off in
their own little worlds, when something throws itself together.
Ordinary affects highlight the question of the intimate im-
pacts of forces in circulation. They're not exactly "personal" but
they surecan pull the subject into places it didn't exactly "intend"
to go.
Positions aretaken, l:>c~_~:
wounded.
And just about e'.e-:-:-
everyday lifeto get \\'~.c.~.
She thinks it's son:: -
facetension of some ~::..:.c.::. :.:
cipient vitality lodgec :C. ::..----= -.,
And nimble. If YOL :e
10 Alphonso L ingis, "The Society of Dismembered Body Parts," in
Deleuze and the Theatre of Philosophy, ed. Constantin Boundas and
Dorothea Olkowski (New York: Routledge, 1993), 296.
There aregames vou cc.:-: :_..c
/ -
L ike the game of c_:~: .;
about to change lane,. ::::::--:_
about this. They can te::
driver isn't signaling 0: ~.'.e:.c.:-
the edge of the lane 0: c.:~._-;
Or there's the game:': ~-:-.=-
in aglance. This one', C.c.:::::
woman have coupon,: -:--.c'
one looks like a talke:. -:-:: ':
gencies. Even a brilli2.'-~:.=
dreaded price check c: c.-:;
you've made your cho:::e
Stuck in afast lane;: c.: :
perate for something:: ::.:
alist in your head, ge: ~: -
the surrounding bodie' c.c::, .
-, :: units of knowl-
: _= = -::15 performed as
IIm
r1
:
L
--~; .'.--:.dparticipation.
j l l m : J r - , : - ,= -_his description
1 ..,' I ~ 0 ',',"una miner who
!l'-- - b
.e,~'" :::= = -_=smoked on his
ifB;:;.c _: -:-:_= = -: I saw the other
~",jJ ( - ,.:-_ = -0:oyered with scar
i
":-n - -:-= = -, seeing the burn-
~,':T'_ --: :-.'.-= -" , , .The eyedoes
~,,- ~-:= -::: L hemark to the
~j_ _-= -,-::'0 La the fraternity
1 - '
Positions aretaken, habits loved and hated, dreams launched and
wounded.
And just about everyone is part of the secret conspiracy of
everyday lifeto get what you can out of it.
She thinks it'ssort of likebeing awater bug, living on the sur-
facetension of some kind ofliquid. Seduced bythe senseof an in-
cipient vitality lodged in things, but keeping oneself afloat, too.
And nimble. If you're lucky.
= -, c,:-:-,= :,ered Body Parts," in
=,= -",antin Boundas and
:=-: .296.
There aregames you can play.
L ike the game of noticing when the car up ahead in traffic is
about to change lanes. Some people have developed asixth sense
about this. They can tell when alane change iscoming even if the
driver isn't signaling or the car itself isn't surreptitiously leaning to
the edgeof the lane or acting nervous.
Or there's the game of trying to pick the quickest checkout lane
in aglance. This one's harder. How fast isthat cashier? Does that
woman have coupons? That one looks like a check writer. That
one looks like a talker. There are so many variables and contin-
gencies. Even a brilliant choice can be instantly defeated by the
dreaded price check or a register running out of tape. And once
you've made your choice, you're stuck with it.
Stuck in afast lanegone bad, you might start to feel alittle des-
perate for something to do. But you can make aphone call, make
alist in your head, get to work on your palm pilot. Youcan scan
the surrounding bodies and tabloid headlines for aquick thrill or
jD!',,::_:- :. =C"_:: C''- - the scar tissue
~ := :ains its tie to the
~; c - : :_,::ates, or proposes,
~'l",c:::-: -, - z: :C-ll go, taking off in
-',,: ',,- ~: ',''-< l'L selftogether.
.",:::-'::T, _ ,,_ -
- - :,:' the intimate im-
1 " 1 "b
- -: = -':",Ct v persona ut
- - :._~n'rexactly "intend"
aninner smirk. Or you canjust checkyourself out with acopy of
House and Garden or Glamour or Esquire. Picture-perfect scenes
flashup and snap into sense.Youcanrelaxinto theauraof tactile
bodies, living rooms, and gardens jumping fromfantasy to flesh
and back againright beforeyour eyes.Theglossyimagesoffer not
so much ablueprint of how to look and liveas the much more
profound experienceof watching imagestouch matter. Thejump
of things becoming sensateiswhat meaning hasbecome.
Stress is the lingua t:- ~~::
wear that showsthar '.~~_:: :
busy, multitasking, ill -=-:-: c~::
against being OVenYOi~~:':' _
system, or subject to.:.~:-~: :::-=:
Stress can motiY2.ec~~:_
alone in times of e'.:.~~:_:::_ ~
ambient fear.
It can tell the sIO'.~
or marginality. Bmie'
stemsnot fromamea:-_~:-~c:: ::
culations through forcc' :.:-.:.
ture, thepower of rhe:.:.-_~.
indifference, political':':~':e
of countless intricare> .:.::~
social injuries or im~e::. '.-: ::
Stressisatransper5::-~-'--"
A thing likestressc . ::. . :- ~ _ _- ~
flowout of ahouseho:.:.-. _--,::'
onewho has been ur:.c::.:.:::.-
Any job.
Sensory games spread fast, animating the pleasures and compul-
sionsof beingattuned to somekind of acommon world of banal
yet unspoken, or evenocculted, sensibilities.
Shifting forms of commonality and differencearewedged into
daily interactions. Therearehard lines of connection and discon-
nection and lighter, momentary affinities and differences. L ittle
worldsproliferate around everything andanything at all: mall cul-
ture, car culture, subwayculture, TV culture, shopping culture, all
the teams and clubs and organizations (sports teams, dog breed-
ing clubs, scrapbooking clubs, historical re-creation societies,
homing pigeon societies, off-roadvehicleusersclubs, book clubs,
collecting clubs, fan clubs, country clubs, professional organiza-
tions, walking clubs, home schooling groups, ethnic organiza-
tions, adoption groups, sexgroups, writers groups, neighborhood
hangouts, coffeedrinkers), addictions of all kinds (drugs, alcohol,
sex, overeating, undereating, cutting, kleptomania), diseases of
all kinds, crimes, grief of all kinds, mistakes, wacky ideas. There
are scenes of shared experience-of tourists, or of locals versus
newcomers, or of people of color walking on awhite street, or of
peoplewaiting all dayat thefoodstamp office.Therearecommon
attachments to musical genresor to dreams of earlyretirement.
But everyoneknows there'ssomething not quite right.
Thiskind of thing is:-~~, :-:.
Tom L utz'sAmei'i.~~: ':
traceshowneurasther..i: :: ~
at the beginning of rhc :--:-
--: ..:~\'.ithacopy of
- -- --~-nerfect scenes
- - - - - ' - t
- ::: ~;::aura of tactile
- ::.-::::-:-_iamasy to flesh
_ ::,- :cnagesoffer not
: -'--' ~hemuch more
-__:_-.:-:-_luer.Thejump
Stress is the lingua franca of the day. It can be the badge you
wear that shows that you're afloat and part of what's happening-
busy, multitasking, in the know. Or it can beavisceral complaint
against being overworked, underpaid, abandoned by the medical
system, or subject to constant racist undertows.
Stress can motivate you, or it can puncture you, leaving you
alone in times of exhaustion, claustrophobia, resentment, and
ambient fear.
It can tell the story of inclusion or exclusion, mainstreaming
or marginality. But its widespread power to articulate something
stems not fromameaning it harbors inside but fromits actual cir-
culations through forces and trajectories of all kinds: self-help cul-
ture, the power of the drug industry and direct advertising, social
indifference, political depression, road rage, or the proliferation
of countless intricately detailed little worlds built around major
social injuries or inventive forms of recreation or reaction.
Stress isatranspersonal bodily state that registers intensities.
A thing likestress can linger and do real damage. Or it can also
flowout of ahousehold likewater down the drain, aswhen some-
one who has been unemployed for far too long finally gets ajob.
Any job.
:::-,--,-..:r;::s and compul-
_,_--:-.:'D world of banal
-o:::"_:c:arewedged into
.::"_:".c::rion and discon-
-'-----_::. differences. L ittle
--_::1eT at all: mall cul-
- -- ---:0
- -: ':"_::ppingculture, all
:~:: [c:ams, dog breed-
_ :::-creation societies,
- _:::' :lubs, book clubs,
::: :::'c:ssionalorganiza-
::-: .::::. ethnic organiza-
- :::-::.:.ps,neighborhood
- ~_-::...:::.ds (drugs, alcohol,
:::::::':-:lania), diseases of
-'-'~::''.,,-ackyideas. There
.-_:::'_ or of locals versus
- :: .:"_awhite street, or of
= :c:. Therearecommon
___ --_.:::- early retirement.
__ ::: quite right.
This kind of thing isnot exactly new.
Tom L utz's American Nervousness, I903: An Anecdotal History
traces how neurasthenia, or "nerveweakness," snapped into place
at the beginning of the twentieth century asawidely experienced
mix of symptoms-insomnia, lethargy, depression, hypochon-
dria, hysteria, hot and coldBashes,asthma, hay fever, "sickhead-
ache," and"brain collapse."L utz describesthephenomenon asthe
embodied sensibility of an excitablesubject adrift in aworld of
large-scalemodernist social transformations. He alsodescribesit
asanunsteady andfraught structure of feelingthat mixedagothic
imaginary of hidden threats and unseen forceswith theoptimism
of thenewconsumerist-therapeutic ethos of self-realization, per-
sonal magnetism, and corporate charisma. Its hegemony spread
not through the power of amaster narrative to gather upwidely
disparate identities and conditions of lifebut becauseit literally
articulated competing and conBicting forces of science, tech-
nology and medicine, religion and ethics, psychoanalysis, gender
and sexuality,health and disease, classand race, art andpolitics.
L ikestressnow, it wasaweird super-sign of differenceturned
onthebody. And likestressnowit couldonlybeseenthrough its
singularities: it had to betold asan anecdotal history in order to
seehow its elements kept throwing themselves together through
differenceand event.
tall tales, circuits of dc:c.~= -~~
themost ordinary for::- ~' :::
It's the 4th of J uly a:-:.~~~- ':
works.
Her friend Danm~c-r. ~ -
they notice that the:..:.~'=--=--:
loseit. He backs up 2...' ::~c..: ~.
then surgesforward C'':-' ~~-~~ .:-:
opensinfront of him. = ~-_-
moves into slowmor~c:. -.:--:
he can and then purs ~:_=-~ ~:
hard. He pulls his car ::~:- :...:
Theylook at eachorhc:::-r ~
car again, this timeric:r~; _=-
hood. HiswheelsspinC. r~~
and then hejust sitsr~~c::::::
on the Boor of the G. r :- :~~ ~-=
staringat theguybur -
goesoverandtellsthec: ~C. r"
Boor. Hepoints out tl-~c.: ::~~:::
walk. Danny seesthe:: ::
guyout of thecar. He:: ::.= -_;:
him.
Rogueintensities roamthestreetsof theordinary.
Thereareall thelived, yet unassimilated, impacts of things, all
thefragments of experienceleft hanging.
Everything left unframed by the stories of what makes alife
pulsesat theedgesof things.
All the excessesand extra effects unwittingly propagated by
plans and projects and routines of all kinds surge, experiment,
and meander.
Theypull things intheir wake.
They incite truth claims, confusions, acceptance, endurance,
The cultural landscarc
sensed.
,e::l __-~ ~~:~e'ssion,hypochon-
___ -= --- feyer, "sickhead-
- ~-_~::~_e'nomenonasthe
_~~-= -i.-iii: in aworld of
:-Ie'alsodescribes it
pw:T '-:: - ~~~car mixedagothic
~~~,,.'.-~ththeoptimism
~-''''~--realization,per-
:~, :,egemony spread
~ ~=, gather upwidely
-" =-.:.~ ':ecause it literally
~~",'of science, tech-
: .--::coanalysis, gender
_- ~~-= -~'" art and politics.
,::- = ~- differenceturned
= _-- :e seenthrough its
_~_~"-:-jstory inorder to
- :-"', ~ogetherthrough
tall tales, circuits of deadness and desire, dull or riskymoves, and
themost ordinary forms of watchfulness.
It's the 4th of J uly and the roads are gridlocked after the fire-
works.
Her friend Danny and his girlfriend arestuck in traffic. Then
they notice that the guy in the car in front of them isstarting to
loseit. He backs up asfar ashecan, touching their bumper, and
then surges forward to the car in front of him. Then abig space
opens infront of him. Danny andhisgirlfriendwatch asthescene
moves into slowmotion. The guy pulls his car forward asfar as
he can and then puts it in reverseand floors it, ramming them
hard. He pulls his car forward again and throws it into reverse.
They look at eachother andjump out of their car. He rams their
car again, this timeriding up right over thebumper and onto the
hood. Hiswheelsspinandsmokewhen hetriesto dislodgehiscar
and then hejust sits there. Danny seeshim reach for something
on the floor of the car and imagines agun. A traffic cop isnow
staringat theguybut hedoesn't makeamovetoward him. Danny
goesoverandtellsthecopabout thesomething reachedfor onthe
floor. Hepoints out that thereareall kinds of people ontheside-
walk. Danny seesthecopisafraid. Danny goesover andpulls the
guyout of thecar. Hebrings himover to thecop. Thecoparrests
him.
~_= _~>propagated by
-, <rge, experiment,
The cultural landscape vibrates with surface tensions spied or
sensed.
She gets called to jury duty. A young African American man is
facing fiveyears minimum sentence for breaking and entering. At
the jury selection, the lawyers ask a room of four hundred people
if anyone has a problem with that. She says she does. She objects
to automatic sentencing. She wants to know the circumstances.
And not just dead circumstances, but the live events. She tells
hypothetical stories of injustice (what if he was stealing a loaf of
bread for his children?). The lawyers are dead bored and openly
rude. Mter dismissing a few other objections, they focus their at-
tention on the only four black people in the room, all women.
They prompt them. They ask them questions. They listen carefully
to the brief, dignified answers they get.
When the crowd is dismissed for the day, she falls into step on
the sidewalk behind the four women. They're much more ani-
mated now. They're saying they have no problem with punish-
ment. If this man did what they say he did, he should be pun-
ished. But it isn't their place to judge. That's the L ord's place. The
next morning, the four women go up to talk to the judge. He dis-
misses them from the jury selection. Then the defendant's lawyers
immediately enter a guilty plea. The man gets twenty-five years
because it's arepeat offense. She's amazed at the whole thing.
Sunday mornings, homeless men line up for breakfast at the
J ehovah's Witness church down the street. Men of all colors, but
this is no utopia of racial mixing. They look hot, tired, sour, and
out of place. L ike stick figures of abjection and wildness, they
come on buses or walk across town carrying all their belongings
in dirty backpacks. Then they make the trek back again. You can
tell they hate this particular moment in their week.
She knows awoman in her forties who has never married and
lives alone. Her life is full of work, good friends, and family, all
kinds of passions and forms of self-knowledge. But it's like there's
no frame to announce that her life has begun. She knows this is
ridiculous, but she swims against a constant undertow.
She hears of asuici~~ -:..-
who rented acute lic:~ ,~::-_
used to be parties (b~:-::~-
broken up with hilT.
reach him. She asked :-,.' :-_~.
hanging in the kitchc :': - :
the state and loaded ~:-=-.,
over it as if that were ,,-_-:"', ~
his motorcycle. The,' .= .:.:::_<
someone found it P"-:::~':'
must have put it there.
Unwanted intensities s_= -= - ..--= _
And then atiny act: ~. --:
sardonic humor in p:.::_,::
of human contact rel~,,-,_ ~
She pulls up to a tC__:'::
says the guy in the ca: ,:- ::::
line. That's her. It takes ,',~::.= .
Oh! They both gaze a:: :::-~:::
She and Ariana ar~
woman, brown bab,'. s:= -= - ~,
boys dressed tough, S:-,: _. ':
one of the boys sa)' :':D :.:=-, ~ -
see that cute baby?"
She's driving omo :.: "----=-:: _
front of her stops in :::-.~:-:'_':'
set woman cross the s:::~~: ~
Then she looks back. ~:: ~~.
big smile, vaguely'y.= .' "-
- .-_-= -.:::~ican man is
;~.i entering. At
_~.-..:.:".dredpeople
::.::::s.Sheobjects
~.-. = ::~cumstances.
: :::::1[5. She tells
'-' :~:::jing aloaf of
.::. ~:~:::dand openly
. = - ~ocustheir at-
.. :-::=. all women.
-:-:.:-.::srell carefully
Shehears of asuicide intheneighborhood. A man inhisthirties
who rented acute little stone house with agreat yard where there
used to be parties (before he moved in). His girlfriend had just
broken up with him. Then she got worried when she couldn't
reach him. Sheaskedhis neighbor to go in and look. He had been
hanging in the kitchen for days. His relatives came from around
the state and loaded up his stuff on trucks. They were fighting
over it asif that were all they cared about. They were looking for
his motorcycle. They accused the girlfriend of stealing it. Then
someone found it parked in a neighbor's front yard; someone
must haveput it there.
-: ~'~_s into step on
.: ~..:.chmore ani-
.. ~. -==,,.,-irhpunish-
_ _-.= '~.ould be pun-
= -":= -:~d'splace. The
.: = -".::: judge. He dis-
. : ::':~::::"idant's lawyers
::. ...-.,.-:::nty-five years
..... ': '~lole thing.
. :: ~:creakfast at the
.:.- :~.all colors, but
- :~. [ired, sour, and
. ~.i \vildness, they
-; .:....~:leirbelongings
::. ::.::~again. Youcan
Unwanted intensities simmer up at the least provocation.
And then atiny act of human kindness, or amoment of shared
sardonic humor in public, can set things right again asif any sign
of human contact releases an unwanted tension .
She pulls up to atollbooth in New Hampshire. The attendant
saysthe guy in the car in front of her has paid for the next car in
line. That's her. It takes her aminute to process what she'shearing.
Oh!They both gazeat the car up ahead pulling into traffic.
She and Ariana are out walking in the neighborhood: white
woman, brown baby. Some teenagers pass them, scowling; brown
boys dressed tough, showing attitude. But as they pass she hears
one of the boys say to the others in asweet boy's voice "Did you
seethat cute baby?"
She's driving onto campus early one morning. The pickup in
front of her stops in the middle of the road to let an older, heavy-
set woman cross the street. Thewoman scampers across, too fast.
Then shelooks back, first at the man and then all around, with a
big smile, vaguely waving. Too grateful.
::.::".:::'.-er married and
. ~-=.-is. and family, all
: _~= 3u.r it'slikethere's
-::_=-. Sie knows this is
arereleasedinto the c.i~,= ~
up inanout-of-this-v"= ~.~.-,,
Disappearance has :..,"-=
masses. Wearegifted c = - '- - - - = - :
capture the slip, if or:>' ~
surface.
Blankness has blc.I'.::-::= ~
through the comfonc.~= __=
communities, and the':~c.-.
stores for everycorner: ~._~~'-:
bedand bath, pizza, t2.:=
Banality isthevital::- :: = =
placeswhereit'sondi'?-= '
feelingdisconnected ;-~= ~ -=:_:
L ittle fantasies pop up. L ike the one in the car ad where two
hip young white people are driving through the streets of New
Orleans listening toapleasantly funky soundtrack. Suddenly they
realizethat thevital sceneof African American street lifeoutside
the car has come into synchwith the music inside. They look at
eachother and shrug their shoulders inthe pleasureof asurprise
event. It's unbelievable but they can takeit in stride. Keep mov-
ing. They (or you, theviewer, or the couple form, or whiteness,
or hipness, or something) aresutured to apretty picturewith sur-
round sound. They canjust drift for awhile.
A sensory dreamof seamlessencounter floatsover the currents
of racial fear, rage, segregation, discrimination, violence, and ex-
haustion.
Thisisnot just ideologybut anevent, however fleetingor insig-
nificant it seemstobe, andwhatever purpose or underlying causes
it canbeslotted into.
It'soneof themany littlesomethings worth noting inthedirect
composition of theordinary.
Everyoneknowsthere', ': - -"-
sprawl: the deserts of?'~'
getting fat eatingPOt;;,:,::.-.:'
of the affordable dre2L -,: .-:
plans no matter where~'
But the houses are: ,Z :':
expected to have. :\Ie:e ::.='-.=
into amodel home. I: ~"= = _-,
isset upfor theperfee: ~'-=- --=-~_
baby'sroomall read,' >= ::.--"
in." It makes it look 5[' =::..:-~
She visits a maSter-: ,~__ -
plane outside of to\\T. -= -,-,-:~-:
tion, adaycare, andc.;~-:-:-~,
treesaround yet and ::-,=,-,:_,
Ecstatic littleforms of disappearance havebudded up. Wedream
the dream of a finished life. The dreamjob or the dream body
settlesinto aperfect form.
Or wedreamof the kind of magic that comes in aflash. The
sweepstakes cameras appear at your door when you are still in
your housedress, and big bunches of balloons in primary colors
: ~~ .::.dwhere two
~_-_= ,~:-eetsof New
_--~~~~Suddenly they
..__ -_<:-= o:~lifeoutside
-. -c:. They look at
----- ;
~:.::..~:-eof asurprise
- :~~~ie.Keep moy-
: :: :-:-:~. or whiteness,
- - c-' :-~.::mrewith sur-
are released into the air. Or UFOS come in the night and lift you
up in an out-of-this-world levitation trick.
Disappearance has always been the genius of the so-called
masses. We aregifted dreamers of getting away from it all, giving
capture the slip, if only by slipping into the cocoon of a blank
surface.
Blankness has blanketed the country, spreading smoothly
through the comfortable uniformity of theme parks and gated
communities, and the sprawling new shopping meccas of big-box
stores for every corner oflife - home, pets, coffee, books, garden,
bed and bath, pizza, tacos, hamburgers, toys, babies, office.
Banality isthevitality of the times. Youcan slip into any of the
places where it'son display and check out for awhile without ever
feeling disconnected for asecond.
:'.'O:[ the currents
--:<J lo:nce, and ex-
- c::- --= .eetingor insig-
:.::_:"'_derlyingcauses
Everyone knows there's something not quite right about suburban
sprawl: the deserts of plywood spreading over hayfields; the kids
getting fat eating potato chips in front of the TY; the creeping lure
of the affordable dream house that comes in the same four basic
plans no matter where you are.
But the houses are big, beautiful, white, more than you ever
expected to have. More than you can resist. One day you walk
into amodel home. It feelslikewalking into adream. Everything
isset up for the perfect family: the boy'sroom, the girl'sroom, the
baby's room all ready like they're saying "Come on, family, move
in." It makes it look soeasy. So over and done with.
She visits a master-planned community built on an empty
plane outside of town. There's afirestation, aschool, apolice sta-
tion, aday care, and agreen belt with running paths. There areno
trees around yet and the house siding isstill unmarred plastic.
- _::..iedup. We dream
:r the dream body
~: ::-:10:5 in aflash. The
--,-_enYOU are still in
:'.' in primary colors
She stops at aconvenience store built to look like asouthern
country store. The sales officenext to it isacute little bungalow.
Two men wearing pressed shirts are playing horseshoes on the
lawn. They waveat her, bigsmiles. They yell, "Hey, neighbor!" She
realizes these guys must bethe realtors staging ascene. But this is
obvious. It's as if it's not nostalgia for asmall town that is being
offered but the fabulousness of the built environment itself. It'sas
if thevalue of the new and emergent-the up-and-coming mode
of community itself-is embodied in ashared dream of finished
surfaces. It's a game of living lite. A value that only goes so far.
Maybe it's not only the dream house (the more-house-for-your-
money) that people areafter when they buy ahouse here, but also
the move to bepart of what's happening and to bepart of the light
inevitability of it all, too, the seamlessness.
Theair isfull of sneering stereotypes about gated communities.
There are cartoons about it all over the place, like the one about
the older couple sitting in their living room complaining that
that dead body is still out there on the lawn next door. But the
sneering at cliches of conformity and isolation doesn't really get at
what's going on. There's alsosomething more basic about how the
dream world isdesirable precisely because it only goes sofar. And
something abour how that dream wants to besutured to the mo-
ment when things snap together. It's like flexing one's watching
and waiting muscles, keeping them limber. And it'sjust asattuned
to the possibility that things will fall apart, the elements dissipat-
ing or recombining into something else. Not exactly "passive," it's
hypervigilant and always building itself up to the intensity where
action can become reaction.
back. Everything is
mostly couples, mos:>~
have bumper stickers : ~.c:-::
"On the road and of- ~,= ~:~:
beginning. If you dOL : ':' ~
and drive away. The:' :~_.c:':<
They visit war monu:-::-_= :-~- _
and Clark Trail. Or d-_= '~
hunt treasure with ill:::-= -: :,-,
They seek out beautif~: '::= -:':
gazebos.
They usethe natioL -= -~.
their itineraries. The- ':= = :: ..
day of driving, the:' cc.:-_,~~~..
back out to the parkiL ~.::: -:
awalkie-talkie set so ::-~= ' ::~.:
meet other Rversin (h:: :::c..:.' __-:'
Wal-Mart isbad for ~;~c._:- ;~:
without competition: -=--:-.:'
what can you do? Ib:;::: ::: .;;=
The objects of mass
itself-travel, instam
lureof newlifestyles Fc.::::-~= :"
into scenes of apossil:<= ._::~:
The experience of 2::::-.; .=
sory experience oflitcc....' :" -
happening.
But nothing too h::c.-
Three million retirees live in upscale RVSfully loaded with
kitchens, bathrooms, marble countertops, and TVSfront and
. : : =; like asouthern
__ .::.::little bungalow.
. -;:: :-_= rseshoeson the
.:-:::~,," neighbor!" She
-r.;:: c.scene. But this is
IF -:-.:... ::.::.",'.n that isbeing
.r: :-.:-:lentitself. It's as
jllw":~ . ~-':"cd-coming mode
1Iir~1 -cC:: '::'reamof finished
~. 0- __ : ::,,-.c.::' only goes so far.
jiml:IL" .'.~.: r::-house-for-your-
~ . _ ::..yc:.sehere, but also
.m"r:::~L :-:- _' ::.::.:r,c part of thelight
p.n:c:" .
""f"-~: .::. ;::c.::.cd communities.
~""'::' - c::' = .:l",ethe one about
I-' :-: .:-r. complaining that
~ r. r.clI door. But the
E= :cc -~~~:~::~:lr~~~~
t-. ::. = s..lmredto the mo-
= = = :':'rlgone's watching
, :---=- . .::.:I"S just asattuned
::"'.:: elements dissipat-
. I"" . ,
:::.:::,:c.CI y paSSIve, Its
_r ::.:::.~-:.e intensity where
back. Everything is built in, tucked away, clever. The retirees are
mostly couples, mostly white. They wear matching T-shirts and
have bumper stickers that read "Home is where you park it" or
"On the road and off the record." For them, every day is a new
beginning. If you don't like where you're at, you can just get in
and drive away. They havepets and projects. They're history buffs.
They visit war monuments and ghost towns or follow the L ewis
and Clark Trail. Or they visit theme parks all over the country. Or
hunt treasure with metal detectors or prospect for gold nuggets.
They seek out beautiful scenery or little New England towns with
gazebos.
They usethe national Wal-Mart atlas of store locations to plan
their itineraries. They sleepinWal-Mart parking lots. After ahard
day of driving, they can shop for whatever they need and then go
back out to the parking lot to make supper. They buy gadgets like
awalkie-talkie set so they can find each other in the store. They
meet other Rversinthe parking lot and tour their rigs. They know
Wal-Mart isbad for Main Street but where would this country be
without competition? They saysocial inequality isafact oflife-
what can you do? Their biggest problem isthe price of gas.
ll
The objects of mass desire enact the dream of sheer circulation
itself-travel, instant communication, movies, catalogues, the
lureof newlifestylespatched together fromcommodities gathered
into scenes of apossible life.
The experience of being "in the mainstream" isaconcrete sen-
sory experience ofliterally being in tune with a"something" that's
happening.
But nothing too heavy or sustained.
~J llv loaded with
.:..-.i TVSfront and
It'sbeingintunewithout gettinginvolved. A light contact zone
that restsonathin layerof sharedpublic experiences.
A fantasy that lifecan besomehow seamlessand that we'rein
the know, in the loop, not duped. That nothing will happen to
us, andnothing wedowill havereal consequences- nothing that
can't befixed, anyway.
Theexperienceof being "in themainstream" islikeaflotation
device.
But its very surgeto enter lifeliteleavesin its wakeavague
senseof all thecircuitsthat givethings acharge.
catastrophe, isolation. ~:-. ~:..
beaten to death in tic.: .'.
worker; men who bur,: .:-': -,
them and their new .~,
after theneighbors he~: ::-~"
Newsof theweirdfeaL":':~:.: -
middle-class couple v.':-.:
behind ahundred ca" -; -
inthewalls.
Home iswheretheheart is.Youcanget insideandslamthedoor.
Wedreamof thebig, beautiful, sensatecommodity-to-live-in, the
bathroom done in thetextures of old stoneand precious metals,
autopia of colorful decor. But thesynaesthesiaof being at home
is always already afloat in the circuits of the prevailing public
winds- privatization, sensible accumulation, family values, or
somekind of identity or lifestyleor something.
The American dream takes the form of a still life: the little
family stands besidethe suv in the driveway, looking up, stock
portfolios inhand, everythinginsured, payments uptodate, yards
kept trimand tended, fat-freediet under their belts, community
watch systemsin place. Martha Stewart offersadviceon the fin-
ishingtouches.
But then the little disappearing acts start coming up right in
the middle of home's retreat, adding adifferent chargeto things.
There are times when it seems as if everything the heart drags
home ispeppered with ahint of addiction, aloneness, something
rotten or worthless.
Horror stories leak in over the airwaves. Seemingly ordinary
intimate spaces are revealedto be scenes of hidden corruption,
Sylvie'sneighbor Torr:.r:-.'.'.~:
bottom of the hill. He .-.~~c;
drinker. Shesitsinfror.: ::' - = - ' : :
Sylviehas seenher dm":-.:.'= - ~
languageyou'veeverhc~:~ = = :
to sendJuanita dov;nt':-.~:e.
down there, Tomm\'
andhewassmashin'(Th~- '~:. ,
takehimaway.Andbth:~----- -'
Sylviesaidyou'd onh- .~c.'~.
Tommy and theWO~2:-. :__~ .:...
shehoped they did, bu: ::-~ ::C'
littlegirl. Juanita took ::-.~;:. -
tain until things settle2:.:
InLasVegas,shesuspec:~~:" -
family. Shewould he~:-:='z',: c:
the trailer. He'dyell, ,0:::' ;: ..._' ~
catastrophe, isolation, and crime. There are children on welfare
beaten to death in their homes between visits from the social
worker; men who burst into their exgirlfriends' trailers, shooting
them and their new lovers in their beds; bodies discovered only
after the neighbors hear the dog barking in there for days on end.
News of theweird feature stories likethe one about the educated,
middle-class couple who calmly goes away on vacation, leaving
behind ahundred cats- some dead, some alive, wild ones living
in thewalls.
c - ~L ~iCTht contact zone
- - ~ ;: ,
_:::~::~:ences.
--:-~::"and that we're in
- ~_:~':-":::lgwill happen to
_~..:.::.:-_ces-nothingthat
1 : ~c ~ _ . : - _ ' : : ' e and slamthe door.
.me:- ~::: ~_:11Odity-to-live-in,the
:. :~:.:-_:: and precious metals,
- -a::'~~,::siaof being at home
_ ~: :~,he prevailing public
.., --:- __a::on, family values, or
It: -::-:::~l.:ng.
a still life: the little
J[[ :: ::.:_ -::-:.-a;.', looking up, stock
ilL :. ::-a:-::nentsup to date, yards
_.:-::.::~Theirbelts, community
IllL - : - ~~Jtfers advice on the fin-
Sylvie's neighbor Tommy has been "into it" in his house at the
bottom of the hill. He has awoman in there with him. She's a
drinker. Shesitsinfront of the tube and never sticks her head out.
Sylviehas seen her down there drunk in the yard and the foulest
language you've ever heard. One time it got sobad that Sylviehad
to send Juanita down there to seeabout them. When Juanita got
down there, Tommy had this woman handcuffed to the radiator
and hewas smashing her head against the floor. The police had to
take him away. And then, of course, shewent right back to him.
Sylviesaid you'd only have to beat up on her once. Juanita told
Tommy and the woman she didn't care if they killed each other,
shehoped they did, but they better not do it in front of Tommy's
little girl. Juanita took the girl to stay with her up on the moun-
tain until things settled down.
- ~ a:~' s~art coming up right in
1iIl: _>~ a:.::tferentcharge to things.
:It - - ::-ernhing the heart drags
c _:._ :~:o~, aloneness, something
_ :...::--aves.Seemingly ordinary
ill : : : : ~e:lesof hidden corruption,
In LasVegas, shesuspected that the guy next door was beating his
family. Shewould hear fights at night through the thin walls of
the trailer. He'd yell, something would go thud against the walls,
thewoman would scream, teenagers would skulk out of the trailer
and hang around outside, despondent. Then one day the guy was
having a cigarette on the little porch. The railing broke and he
fell face down in the gravel expanse that serves as the yard. He
lay there facedown without moving. His wife and kids came out
slowly, carefully; they peered at him from a good twenty yards
away. ''Areyou ok?" Long pause. "No. I'M NOT OK." But they
kept their distance, frozen in avignette.
Not long after that, the family was gone. No moving vans or
waves good-bye, just there one day and gone the next. Then she
realized that the guy was still in there. One night she heard him
laughing maniacally. Full beer cans thudded against the walls.
After that, shebegan to notice the TV turned up loud at night, its
blue light flashing in the darkened trailer, and him laughing loud
at the wrong moments. One night she caught him standing at
his living roomwindow staring out at her. Shegot heavy curtains
and kept them closed. Then shewould notice the top of his head
peering out of one of the three little window panels on his living
room door. Shepictured himstanding on his tiptoes. Shethought
hemust becompletely deranged by now, if hehadn't alwaysbeen.
Every once in awhile at night shewould take aquick scan to see
if the top of his head was there at the little window.
Years later, a friend living in Austin told her the same story.
There was some weird guy next door in there alone after the
woman left him. He was throwing beer cans against the walls in
the dark and laughing at thewrong times to theflashing blue light
of the TV.
working when he was "-~~~:
had his jaws locked 0r: ~-.: ;'_
Luckily, the guy had h:, ~:. . ".
and killed the dog. Yr. : : : . : ;
pairman was avictim c. . ,- . : : ' C . . " . :
When she heard th:,
from an acquaintanc: . ,-"
quirky stories:
A homemaker's c>.
man. Sinceshehad c: ::: .
leavethekeyunder ::.: - ::.'
thecounter, andI'll :-:::.c... _ -.:1
about myDoberm2.': .
do NOT under A:':Y c.::_:: .~'_
pairmanarrivedatt'-l:r.:
thebiggestandme"-.-.:':.
just asshehad said, :r.: ::"~
therepairmengo2.':X..::.
him nuts the \vhoL: c.::.:
name-calling. , ,Fir. . : . . . . _. _
anylonger and)'elL:':::
replied, "GET HL\f,~" -
Home is where the h:.:..-~
and things get sketch" :.:.: -
or the sudden rino- 0" _. c _.
t : ' -- - - _--
canny resemblance b:.-:~ - ":
cocooning weno\,; Cd...-.: -:
The home cocoon ::
nerable, and jump:',
Her brother's cable is out. When the repairman arrives he says,
"Do you know who I am?" It turns out that he'sbeen on the news.
He went into ahouse to repair aTV. He was down on his knees
_.:. :~~.:.lk out of thetrailer
~.::~..'l.edaytheguywas
-.:: :i.ling broke and he
,==,.'e5asthe yard. He
.:eand kidscameout
.:.good twenty yards
:--;OT OK." But they
_" _ );'0 moving vans or
tilL . ~ ;: : l.e[henext. Then she
ill . ~' : - . : : :light sheheard him
II' ..:::.c: .. _.:. .:ed against the walls.
uploud at night, its
::. -'.:'.d himlaughing loud
.:: :.:..:.ght him standing at
I' 1~ = .. :,::: Sie got heavycurtains
lit _' : ' . . : :::e thetop of hishead
II: : ~C " ,: -. . : . ' . \' panels on hisliving
1ISl: . _. . : ;: : : - . ::.istiptoes. Shethought
III . . ~ie hadn't alwaysbeen.
tiir~ '_,: :akeaquick scanto see
f" 0 .. -::..=\yindow.
in. -_. - :.dher the same story.
~.: .:.: .l. there alone after the
IIIlFt...:: =:::::2J15against thewalls in
1IIf: ,. < . . . . . . =':0theflashingbluelight
.. =:epairman arrives he says,
: ... : :~,-at he'sbeenonthenews.
:-Iewasdown on his knees
working when hewas attacked by the family'spit bull. The dog
had hisjawslocked on the guy'slegand the familyjust laughed.
Luckily, theguyhad histool belt on, sohegrabbed ascrewdriver
and killed the dog. The dog's owners wereoutraged. But the re-
pairman wasavictimand ahero on thelocal news.
When sheheard this story, sheremembered an e-mail shegot
from an acquaintance who liked to send her stupid jokes and
quirky stories:
A homemaker's dishwasher quit working so she called a repair-
man. Since she had to go to work the next day, she told him, "I'll
leavethe key under the mat ... Fix the dishwasher, leavethe bill on
the counter, and I'll mail you the check ... By the way, don't worry
about my Doberman ... He won't bother you, but whatever you do,
do NOT under ANY circumstances talk to my parrot!" When the re-
pairman arrived at the homemaker's place the next day, hediscovered
the biggest and meanest looking Doberman hehad ever seen ... But
just as she had said, the dog just lay there on the carpet, watching
the repairmen go about his business ... However, the parrot drove
him nuts the whole time with his incessant yelling, cursing, and
name-calling ... Finally the repairman could not contain himself
any longer and yelled, "Shut up, you stupid, ugly bird!!" The parrot
replied, "GET HIM, Spike!"
Home iswhere the heart is. But take one foot out of the frame
and things get sketchy fast. At the unwanted knock on the door,
or the sudden ring of the phone at night, you can feel the un-
canny resemblance between the dazed state of trauma and the
cocooning wenowcall home.
The home cocoon livesin avital state-open, emergent, vul-
nerable, andjumpy.
It livesasapracticed possibility, emergent inprojects likehome
remodeling, shopping, straightening up the house, rearranging
furniture, making lists, keeping adiary, daydreaming, or buying
lottery tickets.
Practices that stage the jump from ideal to matter and back
again can fuse a dream world to the world of ordinary things.
Objects settle into scenes of lifeand stand astraces of apast still
resonant in things; on a dresser top are loose change, pens, re-
ceipts, books, scattered jewelry, knickknacks, akid's drawing, and
along-discarded list of urgent things to do. A small wooden table
arranged byawindow holds the promise of aprofoundly secluded
interior.
But the dream of approaching the ordinary lives only in the
moment of itssurge- in the resonance of the still lifeor theprac-
tice of the perfectly manicured lawn. Left to its own devices, it
undoes itself through its own excesses. It drifts off in a flight of
fancy, leaps into awild plan of action, and overextends itself. It
grows wild tendrils that harden into nodules of paranoia, perfec-
tionism, or private dysfunction. It tries to fixitself into acode as~
if it could imprint itself on the world -like magic. In the gated
community the rules of community order soon reach atottering
point open to parody and endless legal contestation: garage doors
have to bekept shut at all times, drapes must bein neutral colors
only, no digging in the yard without permission, no clotheslines
in theyard, no pickup trucks inthe driveway, no planting without
permission, no grandchildren visiting in asenior compound. No
exceptions.
the late leader of the :'~.:. ~. -
nization. The book is .:.::~:_ _,
on racial genocide. 1L" ,~~ ~'-:
invented past when go': :::-. - ,,- -
tore apart seemingl.v 5::<_ ..
rested hordes of peop:: :::_::= -
gin trauma incites aIT':~:::':'=
through the details of.:. r .1
"how-to" manual for r:c::~-~ ~~~-.::
- ~
ists, and it has been ere: .. _~=..
homa City bombing. S: =." = -
description at the end:: ~~-:::.:
the Pentagon and the 2.::::-_-,-- . -:.~1.
2001. In the book, SC:::~==:::-::
nization" carries OUt2.r~~.:: _-
date isalsoWilliam L:~-.::,::~::'-::
strange and floating L-_:~... -~- -
But what ismost 5:"::::: = . : _= ,- .3
mestic scenes and the:::::. -.:..-
offers arenot just aboL~.-.:
but also how to set L: : : : . . - _
underground. The her::: ::..:.... =
bravery and camarader:: r _~:: :
shooting, sexual perfo=-=.:.:-::::,:..~
It's arecipe book to: : : : . - : - . : : : :
A little world comes ~:-. ~:
model of communir. .:.r..
with the textures and '::-. . __
world.
This lived, affecti',-: :::r- __~.
make the book not iL' : : : . . r~ -
is) but also ascene o::~~.::~= - -
sions, and hoped-for 5:~
The Turner Diaries isaracist, fascist novel from1996written under
a pseudonym (Andrew MacDonald) by William Luther Pierce,
-..::- -~_ ?rojects like home
- --:: ~_:use, rearranging
--=-~::-,-~ing, or buying
the late leader of the National Alliance, a white separatist orga-
nization. The book is a prophesy of a new world order founded
on racial genocide. The story begins with "the terrible day" in an
invented past when government thugs broke into citizens' houses,
tore apart seemingly solid walls to unearth hidden guns, and ar-
rested hordes of people, rounding them up like cattle. This ori-
gin trauma incites amilitia movement, which the book imagines
through the details of apostapocalyptic "ordinary." It reads like a
"how-to" manual for right wing conspiracy theorists and survival-
ists, and it has been credited with inspiring, in detail, the Okla-
homa City bombing. Some also draw uncanny links between the
description at the end of the book of asuicide mission to bomb
the Pentagon and the actual attack that occurred on September II,
2001. In the book, September II is also the date that "the Orga-
nization" carries out an assault on the city of Houston (and the
date isalsoWilliam Luther Pierce's birthday). Such isthe world of
strange and floating links that The Turner Diaries comes from.
But what is most surprising about the book is its focus on do-
mestic scenes and the ordinary details of everyday life. The tips it
offers are not just about how to organize armies and make bombs
but also how to set up cozy shelters and keep house while living
underground. The heroes distinguish themselves not by acts of
bravery and camaraderie but by honing their skills in engineering,
shooting, sexual performance, and housekeeping.
It's arecipe book for domestic competence.
A little world comes into view. It isaworld based on amilitary
model of community and skill, but it is one that is filled, too,
with the textures and sensory details needed to imagine a dream
world.
This lived, affective constellation of practices and sensibilities
make the book not just an ideological diatribe (which it certainly
is) but also a scene of life filled with worries, fetishes, compul-
sions, and hoped-for satisfactions.
:: :natter and back
-:- ordinary things.
:: -,-cesof apast still
: ':: change, pens, re-
.c~id's drawing, and
-_;:-:18-11 wooden table
- ~:-- -::oundly secluded
--=-_-~- hes only in the
--:: ;:Jllife or the prac-
-- :: ::s own devices, it
::.: _:=-:' off in a flight of
:-:::extends itself. It
_ ::: ::- paranoia, perfec-
_:,;:1finto acode as
_::"_-'-gic. In the gated
: :~_:each atottering
- -:::-,-:ion: garage doors
: c ein neutral colors
<:1. no clotheslines
_ ~_c planting without
=~_:J[ compound. No
-- -_.-_=996written under
__:-,-m Luther Pierce,
It ispossibletoimaginehow, for thosereaderswhofIndit com-
pelling but arenot about to build bombs, it's akind of self-help
book. Self-helpracism.
For the uninducted reader, on theother hand, reading it isan
eerieexperiencehaunted bywhat seemat fIrst to bebizarrelinks
between aracist rageat disorder, contamination, and decay and
an appreciation for the well-tended suburban lawn, the Martha
Stewart-inspired interest ininterior design, and thefantasygame
of reading catalogues to imagine oneself in that dress, with that
face, or holding that particular gun.
knowthemall, indul=:c.;.
tohelpthemifhe co--.:: .:..;_
But then they woulc: '~
starting thecat-and-c. _: :- -
But at exactly4.. IX' - .. . - :
liedown on the floor ~.
Hesaidheguessedc,'c- ~. _.
weird, though, hO\\-ic
TheaffectivesubjeCI ;, ~~ -
can recognize it thro.:;.- ...
unsteadily in thelight: .~.~': ~_
candle. Or project it cc_
it asapattern you h;.: . -
there'snothing you c" - c.
Youcan comfon ic. .-
track, evenfor amirL ~c
Out there on its c' c - -
nudge it into being. I~... _. .
up, tofreeitself, tob: . rc -
None of this iseas'-.~~~, _
thinking claims thar
asif all themessybL':,:
abad habit or ahan=c-:r ~_..
making projects pro:ic'c'~.: _.
demics of addictions ,,- c. o . - :
The fIgureof abecc'cc-_ c _ : -
for all kinds of strarez:
reinvention, redempt:cc ,-:
rests on agency's shoc.o:
that.
Theself isno match for all of this.
It'sadreamy, hovering, not-quite-there thing.
A fabulation that enfoldstheintensities it fIndsitself in. It fash-
ions itself out of movements and situations that aresurprising,
compelled bysomething new, or buried inlayersof habit.
It can become hyperresponsive-touchy, volatile, and tuned
in-or it cangrowdull with anxiety. It gets caught in the quick,
repetitive cyclesof ups and downs-the flights of fancy followed
bydisappointments, satisfactions, rages, or dreams of rest.
It exists, obliquely, in dreams of disappearing, of winning or
being donewith it all. Forms of attention and attachment keepit
moving: the hypervigilance, the denial, the distraction, the sen-
sory gamesof all sorts, thevaguelyfelt promise that something is
happening, theconstant half-searching for anescaperoute.
Her friend Danny worked night shift on the suicide prevention
hotline for awhile. He saidthe borderline personalities werethe
worst. They kept calling back, looking for attention. He got to
': ~:ders who find it com-
E - -, i:'s akind of self-help
know them all, indulging them intheir tiresome games and trying
to help them if hecould figure out when they werebeing straight.
But then they would slip out of reach and then call back later,
starting the cat-and-mouse game again.
But at exactly 4AM all the callswould stop dead and hewould
liedown on the floor to sleep for the last two hours of his shift.
He said heguessed even borderlines had to sleepsometime. It was
weird, though, how it was likeclockwork.
I " ' ' : : ~iand, reading it isan
. ~: :=Istto bebizarre links
J. ' .~-:',.~2.tion,and decay and
!IlL::"', _: _~::-2.nlawn, the Martha
go ,~.:,' and the fantasy game
It " ,~ ;:hat dress, with that
, :rc suicide prevention
-: ::-C:Isonalitieswere the
, . : 2.;:;:ention.He got to
The affectivesubject isacollection of trajectories and circuits. You
can recognize it through fragments of past moments glimpsed
unsteadily in the light of the present like the flickering light of a
candle. Or project it onto somekind of track to follow. Or inhabit
it asapattern you find yourself already caught up in (again) and
there's nothing you can do about it now.
You can comfort it, like a child. Or punish it for getting off
track, even for aminute.
Out there on its own, it seeks out scenes and little worlds to
nudge it into being. It wants to be somebody. It tries to lighten
up, to freeitself, to learn to beitself, to loseitself.
None of this iseasy. Straight talk about willpower and positive
thinking claims that agency isjust amatter of getting on track,
asif all the messy business of real selvescould beleft behind like
abad habit or ahangover. But things arealways backfiring. Self-
making projects proliferate at exactly the same rate as the epi-
demics of addictions and the self-help shelves at the bookstore.
The figure of abeefed-up agency becomes abreeding ground
for all kinds of strategies of complaint, self-destruction, flight,
reinvention, redemption, and experimentation. As if everything
rests on agency's shoulders. But there's always more to it than
that.
p: ,: r _,~~_~- ' - - : ~_-jng.
;:ri.ndsitself in. It fash-
II!- .. ,' :,5 that are surprising,
" ' ~:2"ers of habit.
_:r.:', volatile, and tuned
B,- . ~::'.::aughtin the quick,
Il!Ii2 - : .::~:~:sof fancy followed
III" : :Icams of rest.
., c ~~ :2=-ing,of winning or
, :..:.2attachment keep it
I: :-:.: iisuaction, the sen-
.'1 . ,~.~::sethat something is
1liii!' . ' : 2.c-, escaperoute.
At odd moments in the course of the day, you might raiseyour
headinsurpriseor alarmattheuncanny sensationof ahalf-known
influence.
Thestreetsarelittered with half-written signsof personal/pub-
licdisasters. Thedailysightings of thehomelesshaunt thesolidity
of things with theshock of something awful. They hold up signs
whilepuppies playat their feet: "Hungry," "Will work for food,"
"God blessyou." Thesignhits thesenseswith amesmerizing and
repellent force. It pleads to be recognized, if only in passing. It
gesturestoward anideological center that claimsthevalueof will-
power ("Will work for food") and it voices a simple dream of
redemption ("God blessyou"). But it'stoo sad. It offersno affect
tomime, no sceneof common desire, no lineof vitality tofollow,
no intimate secret to plumb, no tips to imbibe for safetyor good
health.
There is no social recipe in circulation for what to do about
homelessness, or evenwhat todowithyour eyeswhen confronted
with it facetoface.
Theeyeglancesoff thegraphic lettering of thehomelesssignas
something to avoidliketheplague. But thesignalsoprompts the
surgeof affecttoward aprofound scene.
A dollar bill stuck out of acar window getsaquick surgefor-
ward and the heightened, unassimilated, affect of arawcontact.
"God blessyou."
Things havestarted to: = : : -
It'sasif thesolidg::-':._:- _
tender cocoons susperr::,,::. -
and possibilities of a: i: . " . - . : : - : . = "
Wenotice our com;::::-_. : : . . ' . _- = .
mity in it. WeknO\\ i>: . _~: : ;
meltdowns asbysmoo:.- :-
abuoyancy too. Ayib:-'.:-.::
and shopping malls.
Weshop.
Sometimes, or all d-." :._-=-"
Toomuch or nor er: . : . ;: :
With flareor with,~.-'.-:"
For necessities, fo: ::-."::':
At Dollar Storeor ~~e. : : - : . : :
We shop at the me~- ' . ' - . - : . : : - . - ,
nient and everyvvhere-'.:-_:: :.-::- :.c -'
weirdly upbeat sloga,':=
aHero" giveshoppir:.~-'.
pricing cardsstick oc:.:.c-.- :::-. _:
missthesaleitems.
If youhaveplenn- '-.-:- ::. -.-
haveno money at aL :::-.-
If the money is ti;:--.-
numbing, penny-pine:-_.:-.;:.~--
. :...:.might raiseyour
- ':'~~:'=1ofahalf-known
;~_' of personal/pub-
- ~:" iaunt the solidity
..:__-=-_"1-=:" hold up signs
:~:':lwork for food,"
~_-, ~mesmerizing and
. in passing. It
- ~"--:-::~sthevalue of will-
_:: .:.simple dream of
.:.~_It offers no affect
- : : i \-itality to follow,
- : ,:" [or safety or good
- :':__'.\-hat to do about
___:-':5\vhen confronted
,~. ~. : ~i - =homeless sign as
--" _;=1alsoprompts the
;:~' aquick surge for-
.~--:-:tof araw contact.
Things havestarted to float.
It's asif the solid ground has givenway, leaving ushanging like
tender cocoons suspended in adream world. As if the conditions
and possibilities of alifehavethemselves begun to float.
We notice our common drifting and the isolation and confor-
mity in it. We know it's fueled as much by circuit overloads and
meltdowns asbysmooth sailing. But there's no denying that it has
abuoyancy too. A vibrancy alivewith gamblers, hoarders, addicts,
and shopping malls.
We shop.
Sometimes, or all the time.
Too much or not enough.
With flareor with shame.
For necessities, for therapy, on vacation.
At Dollar Store or Neiman Marcus or Sears, depending.
We shop at the megastores because they're cheap and conve-
nient and everywhere and because they'rewhat's happening. Their
weirdly upbeat slogans like "Getting It Together" and "Go Home
aHero" giveshopping aslightly surreal charge. Day-glow orange
pricing cards stick out at right angles fromthe shelvessoyou can't
miss the saleitems.
If you haveplenty of disposable income, that's one thing. If you
have no money at all, that's another thing.
If the money is tight, you're supposed to shop with mind-
numbing, penny-pinching care. All those coupons. All those cata-
logs, the fantasies, the games of imagining having this thing or
that andwhat youwould dowith it. Thenthesplurgesonatub of
icecreamor thesuicidal squandering of atrip to LasVegas.
Sheshops with Ariana at supermarkets that play loud music.
Sheruns up and down theaislesto makeher laugh. Peoplesmile
or comeover and saysomething. One dayagroup of kids follow
themaround thestore, bouncing in singlefileand making peek-
a-boo facesfor the baby. Another day aman next to themin an
aislestarts making birdcalls. Ariana snaps her head to attention
andstaresat hismouth, amazed, whileheruns through dozensof
expert imitations.
One dayinWalgreenssheseesahandsome young manwaiting
in line. Hewears amechanic's uniform with his name stenciled
onthepocket. When hetalksor smilesheholds hishand upover
hismouth but everyonestaresanyway. His teeth aregrosslymis-
shapen. A fewstick straight out of his mouth. There's adouble
rowononeside. Likehe'snever beento adentist-not asachild,
not now.
Sometimes sheshops at Foodland-a poor people'ssupermar-
ket that everyonecallsFood-stamps-Iand. Themusic ismorerau-
cous than at the other stores. It smells of disinfectant and the
cashiers wear layers of thick gold chains around their necks or
thick baby-blue eyeshadow. Homeless peoplewalk up fromthe
river for cheapbeer and bread. Peopleliveincarsandvansinthe
parking lot. She begins to notice awoman who liveswith her
two kids in atruck. Shehaslong, black hair and there's alwaysa
bigcircleof white on the crown of her head. One night there's a
jumpy, red-facedman with her. He runs up toher, excitedbyhis
discoverythat theyhavesix-packsfor twodollars. Shegiveshima
hard stare. Hesays"What? Coke! I'mtalking about coke!I found
agooddeal oncokefor thekids!"Hetriestoact outraged, asifhe
thinks he'sanunsung hero, but it'slikehe'snot quiteupfor it.
A fewdayslater, sheseesthejumpy, red-facedman oncampus.
He's on foot, crossingthe street at the entrance to campus with
three other men- n'.~,:= - ~ - .
arecarrying bigyelle"!
ing, "Isn't thisgreat: y:~.~- ~.::
fast, nervous and ex::::~~~_~
sidewalk they hesita::e.~~-- :'
sayssomething aboL: c ~:: _~ -
SHIT!" A copcar pd' _::-- -
man bravely goes m~e:~::: .::'
thered-facedguysh,,~~ _ _ __.
campus morethan SiT:- ~.
Theordinary canhapFe: : ~- ':'
ences of shock, recog:~~::.:-
most ordinary practi:e
c
~_- :: -
to catch upwith \\~he:~~.~_ :~
In Target the casr_:e~
she'sbuying arefor. "':". ~::
asking. Maybevacuur:.::~e~- :- :
thing. The cashier 5a~c
shejust throws it a\\~8.~~.
they made bagsfor \8.:__: _
they makedisposablc~: ~~- . ':
that's what the you:,; ::e~::_ .
alarmed. Or disorieme:. -
One day in PetS'T~::: '.
talking to aclerk in r:- ~:~:: - ~- ..
wanders fromtank te ::.=.:.:::
There'sawall of aqucr.=.:~:-:- .:
orange. Shehasthe se:;~:: ~
before, if only inadre~:~
Intheearly19905 c..':~::
r - .' - - ~- ..:.::--.g this thing or
~ - : - - = - = = - . : . - . = o?lurgesonatubof
iErlJ ~' : . ' . : . :,:? toLasVegas.
F.---.. '.-2t play loud music.
, - = , laugh. Peoplesmile
J > . : . ;roup of kids follow
IIl: ;: ~: = and making peek-
ia r L - . - ' - - - . next to them in an
~. - . - . = : head to attention
~;ciL.:: ': , _:--.0 through dozens of
three other men-two Latinos and oneAfrican American. They
arecarrying bigyellowstreet signs, and the red-faced guy issay-
ing, "Isn't this great?What didI tell you? MAN!" Theyaremoving
fast, nervous and excited. But the minute they hit the campus
sidewalk they hesitate, gathering inaloosecircle. Theblack man
sayssomething about security ... thecops. "What thefuck! Oh,
SHIT!" A copcar pulls up to thecurb infront of them. Theblack
man bravely goes over and sticks his head in thewindow. Then
thered-facedguyslowlysidlesuptothecar.Theyhaven't been on
campus morethan sixtyseconds.
lIIa : . . - - : : - . = ~.'oungmanwaiting
. II'. ,. - . ~~ :-Cis name stenciled
"'IlL". '. - :.::ishishand upover
~i ,: = = : h aregrosslymis-
"6IT." - _':~.. There's adouble
~~;" ' ! = . - : ~_:~st: - not as a child,
!
!
I'
- :: . :, ?cople's supermar-
_=-.= .-:lusicismorerau-
- ::..oinJectantand the
c::..:.ndtheir necks or
. =-= -.-.,alk up fromthe
-. :~:sandvansinthe
-no liveswith her
. . -'--cdthere's alwaysa
, . c:: IJI1enight there's a
_ =- ':: her, excitedbyhis
= : _ ~rs. Shegiveshima
-:: ~::,outcoke! I found
- -. ~:: outraged, asifhe
: = - ,: ' : quiteup for it.
k' ' " >-:.::::. man oncampus.
.-:: ':':-- ..:eto campus with
Theordinary canhappen beforethemind canthink. Littleexperi-
ences of shock, recognition, confusion, and dejavu pepper the
most ordinary practices and moves. Sometimes you havetopause
tocatch upwith whereyou alreadyare.
In Target the cashier asks her what the vacuum cleaner bags
she'sbuying arefor. "What?" Shedoesn't understand what she's
asking. Maybevacuum cleaner bagshavegone defunct or some-
thing. The cashier sayswhen her vacuum cleaner stops working
shejust throws it away. "What?" Thecashier saysshedidn't know
they made bagsfor vacuum cleaners. "What?" Shethinks maybe
theymakedisposablevacuumcleanersnow, or something. Maybe
that's what the young people use. Whatever. But she's a little
alarmed. Or disoriented. Or something.
One day in PetSmart she has dejavu. Her partner, Ronn, is
talking to aclerk in front of thebank of fishtanks, whileAriana
wanders fromtank to tank, pressingher faceupagainst theglass.
There'sawall of aquamarine bluewater with shimmering flecksof
orange. Shehas thesensation that she'sbeen inexactlythis scene
before, if only inadream.
Intheearly1990S astapler built into acopy machine takesher
aback. It'sthelastweekof afellowshipattheHumanities Research
Institute inIrvine. She'sfrantically copyingjournal articlestotake
home with her. One of theother researchfellowswalksin, sticks
somepapers into aslot onthesideof themachine, andpullsthem
out stapled. She feels a slight shock at the discovery that copy
machines now have staplers built into them. A senseof unease
spreadsthrough her inatangleof thoughts. What elsedoesn't she
know about? Why doesn't shehear about these things? Shefeels
her mother's anxiety about answeringmachines, cell phones, self-
servegaspumps, andATM machines. It'sthefear of being caught
up insomething you can't master, of being found out. A kind of
illiteracy.
Sheuses eBayto buy crib sheets and Teletubbie videos. One
day shegets an e-mail with acolorful certihcate of achievement.
"Congratulations on your success!You'reA Rising Star at eBay!"
She'searned ayellowstar for getting agood feedback rating from
eBaysellers.She'savaluedmember of theeBaycommunity. "Keep
shooting for the stars!" She feels slightly depressed, or slightly
stunned.
Her friendAndrew comesback totheneighborhood for avisit
after being awayfor ayear and ahalf Hesaysit'sgreat tobeback
but unnerving ("Have I been away?"). So many things are the
same, and then everyonceinawhilethere'ssomething reallydif-
ferent that comes asashock, likeahouse all of asudden where
there used to be an empty lot or an open field. How did it get
there? Who arethose people inside, and how did they get the
basketball trophies uponthewall sofast?
and then morph into ': :-'.:-- -
tories takeroot and Lt.o::-. : . ~=
Ian Hacking's Rei,. . : :
Sciences of Memol)' ([2.~0:' .-.:
daIs morphed into Io:~
extremetrajectories L:o:. _~rl
Satanic Ritual Abuse ~~_"
Day carewas (anci:, :c::: . <
work, gender, class, r2.~: - = - - : Ii
mother had adrinki:-.~:::: I: : :
that was articulated ,,'.:_-.- = - - :
situation-the guilt. :.-.c::~=
andsexual abusewere::- ~- - -
her small child relate~:c:.-
dream world blosson~~~: = = ~ I- ~
cases, convictions lie
care, women pulled 0''':': :: . .
of thepicture permar-.o::-.:.
Mass-market books ~r _.: :
vided the prototypes :: f __ - =
abuse. Then therapis:; __0: f_r
multiple personalin' ': f. c
patients, asking theIT.::
symptoms and cause',
sonality disorder b:
presenting symptoms :c:-. r.-:~-:
dard quickly shifted r~:r:-.-:' _
over ahundred, and ::--.0: -=--C-c:I'
ingto reintegrate the?o:: .
logingthe "multiples.
Conflicts bet'iveeE --
trauma culture and [2.::::- .
ries of these moveme.:':
Bigsocial shifts float by on distant, cloudy discourses and scan-
dals. The conditions of lifeassemblethemselves into something
.: ~-.=:=.'rhoodfor avisit
.=, great to beback
:-=-.:-:=' .. things are the
::-=-.erhingreally dif-
~ =.:.asudden where
~e.='. How did it get
r - .. iid they get the
and then morph into something else. Sometimes extreme trajec-
tories take root and then take off with alifeof their own.
Ian Hacking's Rewriting the Soul: Multiple Personality and the
Sciences of Memory traces how the 1980sday care (sexabuse) scan-
dals morphed into recovered memory syndrome and then into
extreme trajectories likeMultiple Personality Disorder (MPD) and
Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA).
Day carewas (and is) atense issuerooted in the conditions of
work, gender, class, race, the family, and the state. One working
mother had a drinking problem that led to aworking problem
that was articulated with the mass of public feelings about this
situation - the guilt, the stress, the rage. Stories of child abuse
and sexual abusewerebeginning to circulate with force. Somehow
her small child related astory of sexual abuse at day care and a
dream world blossomed. Beforeweall woke up, there were court
cases, convictions (all later overturned), kids pulled out of day
care, women pulled out of work, male daycareworkers pulled out
of the picture permanently.
Mass-market books and thepopular movies they spawned pro-
vided the prototypes for the extreme trajectories of trauma and
abuse. Then therapists helped their patients write the original
multiple personality stories and suggested the disorder to other
patients, asking them to identity with a compelling narrative of
symptoms and causes. Talk shows spectacularized multiple per-
sonality disorder by showcasing victims with ever more elaborate
presenting symptoms and more and more personalities. The stan-
dard quickly shifted from having sixteen personalities to having
over ahundred, and the therapeutic aimshifted from one of try-
ing to reintegrate the personalities to one of identitying and cata-
loging the "multiples."
Conflicts between believers and disbelievers, and between
trauma culture and rationalism, also fueled the extreme trajecto-
ries of these movements. A professional couple whose daughter
Il.[~ -- -:~_~_;.nities Research
articles to take
.,., \yalks in, sticks
- c: -:-e. and pulls them
.':' ::"O:iJ\'erythat copy
. , : = - = - . .:c. ,ense of unease
---:-,:-t elsedoesn't she
II _' . - : ' etiings? She feels
iim!s;: r._,t.-e' :ell phones, self-
R " : :'e:-:of being caught
:: ..:.:-.ci out. A kind of
_ -:-:e:..:.=: bie videos. One
. : L. C - - ::-==of achievement.
. -:: .'::1g Star at eBay!"
. =.tee='::<ack rating from
- . " K
_ - - c =. ::t:1mumty. eep
=. e=::essed, or slightly
. = - . ' =.oursesand scan-
-:' .=s into something
had recoveredmemories of child abusefounded the FalseMem-
ory Syndrome Foundation - ahighly focused and sophisticated
pressure group that was eventually ableto shift the blame from
parents committing child abuse to therapists and their troubled
patients producing anabusehysteria. Peoplewithmultipleperson-
alitydisorder founded asocietyof their ownthat celebratedrather
than pathologized their symptoms, thereby turning the"disorder"
into aliberation movement. They began to usethe term"alters,"
articulating with thediffuseNewAgecelebration of alteredstates
of consciousness to experiencespiritual energies. Rationalists at-
tacked the "pseudoscience" of the movement as asymptomatic
diseaseinitself Strands of feminismpromoting therecognition of
child abuse contributed to counterattacks. Some therapists who
had become activistsfor their patients accusedskeptics of being a
support group for child abusers.
Then even more extreme trajectories took off. Increasingly
bizarre events wererecalled and accusations took astrange turn
into the highly scripted story of Satanic Ritual Abuse. A radi-
cal wing of the movement came to believethat patients suffer-
ing fromdissociativedisorders had been ritualistically abused by
sataniccultsrun bytheir parents andfeaturing thebloody sacrifice
of babies. Policeand social workers developed elaborate listsand
maps of the elements and scenes of Satanic Ritual Abuse, using
themasdiagnostic toolsandstandards of evidenceinhundreds of
court cases.Theopposing sideargued that thetherapeutic move-
ment itself had practices that wereverymuch likecult initiation,
including hypnosis and suggestion.
Such trajectories and metamorphoses arenot just dead social
constructions that wecantrack back toasimpleorigin, but forms
of contagion, persuasion, andsocial worlding.
Flash mobs are lea2~~::
e-mail, and the\i7eb. - = - - - : :
onstrating only that e.: = ~ - - _: : - _.
At aToys'R Us, aid' .-
saurus rex, and ther: ~'::._
of hands beforequick'> :.. ~:
sembled at thefood cc_:- -
nizers(identifiablek:::'
they wereholding) :c':: .
what to do next. Sr"c~._
suddenly assembled 0::-_ . -:: '. = =
next to Grand CemL_ ~.~-
onds, then left.
When Howard Dee.:: .
comic strip calledfor d: : - = .
September 13, IO:35 _".'_ = _. .
Link arms in an eno.:: _. _-:
"TheDoctor isin:" D:,..-::: ::
Howard Dean's "Get 1... : '--
Another Bashmob .:.:::'
puter to compete \\'it:_.'.:: -' -
intheworld bybring:::-_;:. ~.
tion, networking thee ::::--:'
major scientificproblc: = - : . , '
- =- ~::. ,he FalseMem-
e=--,-::cdsophisticated
-__~,he blame from
- - -,-=-_d their troubled
.,=-:J1Ultipleperson-
- ,_-.o, celebrated rather
-_=-=-_::cg the "disorder"
_,~,:,e term "alters,"
Flash mobs are leaderless gatherings organized by cell phone,
e-mail, and the Web. The mobs usually do something silly, dem-
onstrating only that afloating connection can flash into flesh.
At aToys'R Us, aflashmob stared at an animatronic Tyranno-
saurus rex, and then fell to the floor with screams and waving
of hands before quickly dispersing. In New York, participants as-
sembled at the food court in Grand Central Station, where orga-
nizers (identifiable bythe copies of theNewYorkReviewof Books
they were holding) gave mobbers printed instructions regarding
what to do next. Shortly after 7 PM about two hundred people
suddenly assembled on the mezzanine of the Grand Hyatt Hotel
next to Grand Central Station, applauded loudly for fifteen sec-
onds, then left.
When Howard Dean was running for president, aDoonesbury
comic strip called for aHoward Dean flashmob. Time: Saturday,
September 13, IO:35 AM. Place: Foot of Space Needle. Activity:
Link arms in an enormous circle, hop up and down chanting
"The Doctor is in!" Disperse. The idea immediately appeared on
Howard Dean's "Get Local" Web siteasan action tool.
Another flash mob tried to produce amomentary supercom-
puter to compete with the fastest and most expensive computers
in theworld by bringing conventional computers to asingleloca-
tion, networking them together and putting them to work on a
major scientific problem. It didn't work, but it almost did.
- -_-.: ::cof altered states
:-:: :.~'. Rationalists at-
: - , . os a symptomatic
- =-;,:,erecognition of
: :::cetherapists who
-:-=- '~,eptics of being a
:,: off. Increasingly
- ,::'-"'-astrange turn
---- _,_~Abuse. A radi-
: ,_-.-'-, patients suffer-
- _-'---:5 Iically abused by
- ; , ebloody sacrifice
:-e=-e:aborate lists and
-: ;~wal Abuse, using
- : _=-c::cce in hundreds of
- :_-_c,herapeutic move-
_:_-::kecult initiation,
I: : =-_JIjust dead social
- - . = : : : : origin, but forms
of O. J. playing go~i . : - .= - .
skyrocketing. \'\Te,T,:, ~:- ~ ,,",
dal spreads throug:~, .:.< ~ - ,: :
thong panties, the ~.:.::- e ~: J
a sensory imagina T: ~: - . ~- '::-'1
Scenes of public .:. ~~e- - -:
cial news into eccc.~~ :.1
killing spree. Afte: .:.~'e
of his love life, his ~~_~~_~. - -'~
into alife of its 0\\':-. ,:-, - _ - = - : : - 11'
run. Someone spc'~' .-..t::- -
Mercedes Benz \T,:~:-.::.
with money. The r:~~:-e'
clothes like a [\\' : 5: : : : = ~' -
the king offash:c:-.. : = _. ~. " J
or something. Th::~=-. ._
exactly, such thing:' .:.~e
Things flash up-little worlds, bad impulses, events alive with
some kind of charge.
Sudden eruptions are fascinating beyond all reason, as if they're
divining rods articulating something. But what?
Scenes of impact catch the senses: LA in flames, atrailer wrapped
in crime scene tape, the memorial ribbons and stuffed animals
lying at the feet of a still-smoking building. The plots become
so familiar we can list them in shorthand: disgruntled workers
going postal; jilted lovers and kids with guns opening fire in pub-
lic; orderly men who keep too much to themselves revealed to
be serial killers butying bodies in their backyards; the black men
beaten, raped, and killed by cops; homegrown militias whipped
into rage at the sight of unmarked helicopters and the stench of
lost freedoms; messages coming through the mail as literal letter
bombs or with anthrax in white powder or in a brown sandlike
substance.
These scenes have an afterlife; it isn't like you can put astop to
them. Following the details of a breaking event is as compelling
as doing acrossword puzzle; once you get into it you have to stick
with it so you can get to the end and get out. One day there is
the amazing scene of O. J. Simpson's white Ford Bronco traveling
down an L.A. freeway, and before you know it you are into the
glove, the blood stains, the barking dog, the racist words of the
detective, the verdict, the reactions. Later, there are the sightings
Jokes circulate abc .:~-
directly to semar:.:-. ~_~
together.
One day, shon:" .:.~e
the neighborhooc .. -.
on quirky characr:::' ~. . - TIc:
fabricated on dro-.','-- :..- .
of o. J. playing golf inFlorida and the salesof white Ford Broncos
skyrocketing. Wewatch, amazed, as the Clinton-Lewinsky scan-
dal spreads through astring of serial fetishes: thestained dress, the
thong panties, the tapes, the neckties, the cigar. The details incite
asensory imagination that spirals off, following leads.
Scenes of public attention routinely drift over the fence of offi-
cial news into eccentric circulation. Andrew Cunanan goes on a
killing spree. After afewdays of trying to track the traveling clues
of his lovelife, his friendships, and his murders, the story flashes
into alifeof itsown in multiple sightings of theactual man on the
run. Someone spots him in Lebanon, New Hampshire, in agray
Mercedes Benz with Florida license plates and his pockets stuffed
with money. The money isfalling out of cracks and crevicesin his
clothes like atwisted fashion statement from the guy who killed
the king of fashion. But all that turns out to bejust apparitions
or something. There is never any real effort to determine what,
exactly, such things are.
-'-~::-ailer wrapped
- c~::. '::--"ttedanimals
- : : . - = - : - . " dots become
~ z::-'-":-:ded workers
- . b
~,,=-.::-.~hre lil pu -
'-.:-=-.'''.cs revealed to
~::.' ~:lCblack men
= - . : - : - : : :ias 'whipped
::- '::. ~.~ ~:lestench of
- ' : - = - . : . . . . -=..s literal letter
. - -'-::' ::-,w.-nsandlike
. _ ::.:...-:. Flit astop to
IIE:JL:":: . : = - . : . ' 2.S compelling
::-" iave to stick
_: = :-.Cday there is
- :::.:3 ::-:,:-:cotraveling
::---::"-"are into the
::-:'::'.'~\\'ords of the
:.' ::~~" the sightings
Jokes circulate about how we might as well just wire ourselves
directly to sensation buttons and skip the step of content al-
together.
One day, shortly after 9/n, shegets an e-mail from afriend in
the neighborhood who likes to keep up arunning commentary
on quirky characters and scenes spied fromher studio windows or
fabricated on drowsy afternoon walks. Her friend writes:
Here's agood story wewould have had afewyuks about during
coffee club. A friend of mine works @ St. Luke's Roosevelt hospital
in a building that housed several psychology and psychiatry offices.
Of course, it's not the big money areaand the building isvery rinky-
dink and tenament-ish, not a big target for anthrax, let's just put it
that way. She works with mothers who have drug abuse problems,
and the office downstairs treats juvie-delinquent adolescent types.
Apparently, afewweeks ago one of the women who work in the office
downstairs turns on the ale (window unit) for a little conditioning
action and awhite dust sprays out all over her. Yikes! They call the
Center for Disease Control and men in white suits and gas masks
invade. My friend who is working upstairs is dubious-and so the
people in her office just stay and work while the downstairs is cor-
doned off and investigated. They rush the substance off to the lab and
put everyone who was in the office on Cipro. Then the test results
come back. Low and behold, the substance tests positive for cocaine!
So good, isn't it? They think one of the juvies hid their stash in the
ale when he was afraid of being searched. Ithink it's a brilliant idea
to start pumping cocaine into the workplace. No need for caffeine
anymore, let's just move right on up to the next level of productivity
inspiration. Whadaya say?
She's living in a tra::::~~' J
Vegas. Her place is 2":'~;",-'' , .:
brick through awinc.~
less old stereo, and 5':::,:': :' '.
large pair of scissors. -::-',::' . '.C
the police. "Kids," ti,,::,:: ~- =
at all the stuff pulIce ': _.: . : ':,':,
ready to go. She sho'." :.',:- ::J
look at it and then c.~~ ,
black-and-white pho.:: ;~:~'_
"Did they stick the':: _~ -
at her.
She calls the ma:" '::::-.:..'
can't get a piece of .
her computer over ':0 '
tells her he came hon',:: ,,': Cc
had emptied the pIa::: c...' .:
kids with her. And
five-piece blue veh-e.:
for the kids in the \'8.: C'
rough, handmade ch::~:
of the three bears: a :-:=:~'':
He had been planni:-:;, ~':' ;,:
girlfriend is calling -', c -
great the sex is with h:: ~:-,:
over to fix their toilet ":-,: ' '::'
Out of the blue he .:..<.:' ='
she's alone. They cou.~ :,: ~
We will follow any hint of energy, at least for a little while.
When something happens, we swarm toward it, gaze at it, sniff
it, absorb its force, pour over its details, make fun of it, hide from
it, spit it out, or develop a taste for it. We complain about the
compulsion to participate. We deny its pull. We blame it on the
suburbs and TV and ourselves. Bur we desire it too, and the cure is
usually another kind of swarming, this time under the sign of re-
demption: a mobilization for justice, a neighborhood watch com
mittee, some way of keeping our collective eyes open. Something
to do.
,~_' .:. -'-- ..::''1r~x,let's just put it
. ': ::.~ugabuse problems,
III: _. - r ::':::'.:adolescent types.
-'::. "'::'0\Yorkin the office
11:;;, _: . :':::. :inle conditioning
':r 'likes! They call the
lIIIi::' , ... :: ';lits and gas masks
=-_Jious-and so the
c :.-.: jo\Ynstairs is cor-
_= ::.=::.=off to the lab and
-=-:-.=:1 the test results
'. :=:,::.' iLi,'efor cocaine!
, :-,::' :ieir stash in the
. -"':-..::::', a brilliant idea
- ~,~:::, :1~ed for caffeine
'c' .:-=1 of productivity
She'sliving in a trailer park outside Nellis Air Force Basein Las
Vegas. Her placeisburglarized inplain daylight. Someone hurls a
brick through awindow, riflesthrough everything, stealsaworth-
lessold stereo, and sticks anote onto the livingroomwall with a
largepair of scissors.The note says, simply, "Yeah, boy." Shecalls
thepolice. "Kids," they say.They roamthrough therooms looking
at all thestuff pulled out of drawers, thecomputer unplugged and
ready to go. Sheshows themthe note stuck in thewall. Their eyes
look at it and then drift over the walls, skimming the dozens of
black-and-white photographs of weathered characters tacked up.
"Did they stick these up too?" "No, those aremine." They look
at her.
She calls the maintenance man to come fix the window. He
can't get apieceof plywood until thenext morning, soshecarries
her computer over to his trailer. His living room is empty. He
tellsher he came home theweek beforeto find that his girlfriend
had emptied the place and left, just likethat. Shetook her three
kids with her. And she took the only thing he had ever won-a
five-piecebluevelvet living room suite. He had built aplayscape
for thekids in theyard: awooden bridge over alittle plastic pool;
rough, handmade chairslined up against thetrailer likethechairs
of the three bears; amachine of some sort coveredwith stickers.
He had been planning to get goldfish for the pond. Now the old
girlfriend iscallinghiminthemiddle of thenight to tell himhow
great thesexiswith her newboyfriend, and oneday heevenwent
over to fixtheir toilet while they stood watching him.
Out of the blue he asksher to marry him sincehe'salone and
she's alone. They could help each other. Shesaysno thanks. The
~ . ':' __:c[c: while.
~::. ::. gazeat it, sniff
- c..: =_== of it, hide from
=: =-=-,=,lain about ~he
= _, --:: dame it on the
"= ,= ==c ! . and thecureis
- = _=.-=-::r thesignof re-
'= :':' =,=:--.oodwatch com-
: ~'::'=!pen. Something
next day he helps her move to a single-wide trailer three streets
over. He won't take any money so she takes him out to dinner.
He wants to use a coupon awoman gavehim in lieu of a day's
pay for helping her move her office. He doesn't know where the
placeis, though, soshegetsthename and address off thecoupon.
Dean's Roadside Cafe. Shedrives up and down along road lined
with strip malls. Sheaskshimifhe canseetheplace. "What letter
does it start with?" She looks at him: "aD." Minutes pass. She
askshimagain if hecan seeit. He admits he doesn't know what a
"D" lookslike. Shefinds theplace-a sport's bar-and they order
sandwiches. Nervously, he givesthe waitress the coupon and ex-
plains that someone gaveit to him. Thewaitress staresat the little
pieceof paper, scowling. "What's this supposed to be?" "Shesaid
it was acoupon to get one free." "No, you can't usethis here. It's
been whited out." Shelooks at himlikehe'sacriminal.
On the way home, they have to stop at a casino. He insists
they usevalet parking. Then herushes in, changes atwenty dollar
bill, and losesit in aslot machine in lessthan aminute. Shecan't
believehowperfunctory it is-like blowing your noseor going to
the bathroom or something. They leaveimmediately. He sayshe
never brings more than twenty dollars.
A fewdays later he leaveson amidnight bus to Houston. He
asksher if sheknows where the bus station is and how he might
get there. Then he'sjust gone. He doesn't saygoodbye to anyone.
He doesn't let his boss know he's leaving because he's afraid he'll
bemad and won't let himgo. Shefinds out the manager has only
been payinghimenough for somefood and letting himstayinhis
trailer. Now he's off, looking for alife. He's got an old girlfriend
inHouston. She'smarried now, soshe'sout, but her daughter had
acrush on himwhen shewas kid. She'saparaplegic now from a
car wreck. He'shoping hecangothereand takecareof her and be
her man. That's his plan. He sellseverything he can to get ahun-
dred dollars for abus ticket. Somehow he getshimself to the bus
station and he slips c.'c.
him.
The park manager f-'--. :(
that all the break-ins "'fce
pened. A lineofbulb.-. '~ce~r'
the back wall of the Q..:: r::' , .
to the other. Thev m":ffr._~
onceand for all. One ':~. ~.:-. ce- ...i
can't quite read.
Then peoplestan r'.: ~.:~.; '- .
jeep patrolling up an.~..::
with itsheadlights 06.=r:: ';::
of it slowlypassing. s:-::..
or five men hanging l~ ~- -=-_-~: .J
guns and spotlights ir'. ~':-.:.. ..: ..:..:
f
" .". .. "
o commulllty ane c.:~.:r.. ::
if they'vebeen taken i:: ..~-::~c...'
tions of reality TV CO?'.-: -.
over somelineintOds~"'~::
surreal scenes of SUdC:: :,
silently in the nighL.
She and some or ~.-. ce
meeting to get these ;_'
teenager.
Thesoldiers do\';:l.c.~~,-.
The nightly ne,vs re?: r-:.'
popping under pres,_::
canes. Then areco'.-o.:--fr.:
stop watching the no.".
.::. =~~ailerthree streets
II1U : .~':=.-.:0 out to dinner.
1iL,,~:.' "'.~. :n lieu of a day's
-: ::..",:-.'~lillowwhere the
11111 ' ::. c::' ::.~= 's off the coupon.
'ili':-. along road lined
It :-" :.'.=-::ace. "What letter
'. ::nures pass. She
t".,,:-. .,,::.:",m'tknow what a
t- _., ~-'.: - and they order
~__ .'" coupon and ex-
I.. ::=;; staresat thelittle
;ildIJ =~~obe?" "Shesaid
"~"i : ~. ~.lse this here. It's
IIIlE ::. : ::oinal.
~,. ::.:asino. He insists
IIIIIIli . :...-.~=s atwenty dollar
~tlIT ::.:::. __. ::. 8:nute. Shecan't
It ::..: ::.~noseor going to
, . - -:-=::.:ately. He sayshe
station and he slips away. Shenever hears anything more about
him.
The park manager calls acommunity meeting. He announces
that all the break-ins areover. Shepoints our that hers just hap-
pened. A lineof bulky, stern-looking, air forceguysleaning against
the back wall of the Quonset hut shift their weight fromone foot
to the other. They murmur something about putting astop to it
onceand for all. One of themcatches her eyewith ahard look she
can't quite read.
Then peoplestart noticing alate-model, brightly colored, party
jeep patrolling up and down the streets at all hours of the night
with itsheadlights off. One night, when shewakesupto thesound
of it slowlypassing, shelooks our and seesthe dark shapesof four
or fivemen hanging off the sides of thejeep with semiautomatic
guns and spotlights in their hands. It's asif some floating images
of "community" and "action" havesuddenly become visceral. As
if they'vebeen taken too literally, merging with thegraphic repeti,
tions of reality TV cop shows. Asif "community" itself has drifted
over somelineinto astate of free-fall, scripting the everydaywith
surreal scenes of strange community meetings and jeeps passing
silently in the night.
She and some of the others have to call another emergency
meeting to get these guys to stop before they shoot someone's
teenager.
Thesoldiers dowhat they'retold.
~;101 _: ... ~_' ~oHouston. He
a__ ~dhow he might
~iillli ~:~,dbyeto anyone.
. ,,:::.::.:'" he'safraid he'll
, . ::.:.=::lanager has only
.=:-:::::ghimstayinhis
:I - : ~: ~an old girlfriend
I _. ::. _~her daughter had
l '::. ::..:-a?:egic now froma
, ::.:.c.::=::.areof her and be
~'i,., .... _" ' ; .'.'" can to get ahun-
IIfrr .: ::':mselfto the bus
.
The nightly news reports an endless seriesof incidents of people
popping under pressure or getting hit by stray bullets and hurri-
canes. Then arecovery-movement guru recommends that wejust
stop watching the news, listing it asone of the fivemajor sources
of stress today. And, for asecond, there's apause in the flowasif
westop towonder if this isthelittle bit of advicethat will finally
reachuslikeafortune cookieshot straight fromthefactory to our
personal plate to spawn aquiet moment of clear thinking.
Too clear, maybe.
meets resistance, g:::~'~~.~ _-
thing it can't get oc ::-
It gyratesto mo:c _:.::
along. The fast, cd; :-
something to do: ~~::: c~
redwineaday (or Li:: :::~~_~
oil; don't eat carbs :..:'-_
fromyour arteries: ::~~
lesterol; try antio:\::c~:-~
Against this tenc::-:-
into afictional sac::='c: -:
pacts onto stages. R:: _.-
ing both practical t:: c-:::
hitting, lived recog::'..~ ~_:-
compulsions perm:::..~:: :::::..
to get freeof them (,:-~ c: :...-:..- I
We look for a lesson in Columbine and its offshoots; or for a
glaring cause like bad parenting (too much parenting? too little
parenting? What kind of parenting?); or for some suddenly rec-
ognizable copycat phenomenon coming from something in our
"society."It'sasif somequick knowing of why bad things happen
would be a sign that we care, or notice things, if only in retro-
spect.
But the kids, or the records they leavebehind, tell stories that
havetheir own complex trajectories: they'recaught inanobsessive
focus on the details of a BIG scenario; they're surging to escape
a trapped life; they're dangerously depressed; they're alone with
their cadre and their plan. Thesestories don't end in amoral but
areleft to resonatewith all the other waysthat intensities riseout
of theordinary and then linger, unresolved, until memory dims or
some neweruption catches our attention.
The intensity of erupting events draws attention to the more
ordinary disturbances of everyday life. Or it distracts us from
them. Or both. It's asif the news of theweird shows what could
happen if half-known pressure points, in thewrong hands, were
cooked down to somebasiccrazinessand pushed to aviolent end.
And we'releft with thevisiblesignsof relayswecan't name or pre-
dict and don't know what to do with.
Benny has been Str:..:;:-_~ :
awild Pentecostal :~~_::.
Christ church of
Benny has avisior:.
that. They'll ride ir:. -
12 SeeE veKosofsi: ~:-:..:-
(Durham, N.C.: Dei:: ._- :
~_,:-::-:.the flow as if
~1. - c -::- ~:-:'at will finally
:_-_~:_:-tacrory to our
- _ :-"'-: ~_-_::1king.
.=,_-_::,Qts; or for a
- ~"'-~:-:_ ~:D.g?roo litde
. ~
:-:-:-suddenly rec-
::1~:-thingin our
~"'-=- ~bngs happen
.~-:':1lvin retro-
~:-llsrories that
_ : c _~:_ ~ ::' an obsessive
_ -= ..:.~:i:1g ro escape
_:. -=--_:---.~-: alone with
- :::_~::-:.amoral but
- c -:_~:-=-_,i[iesrise out
-.~_.=_"':TIorvdims or
-- =.-. ~.:..-:. to the more
.- =--,~~acrsus from
:::. ,_-_:-: .., what could
.:::-:.g hands, were
-.:-=-~J aviolent end.
:-:.:-=-_ r name or pre-
The body hums along, rages up, or deflates. It goes with the flow,
meets resistance, gets attacked, or finds itself caught up in some-
thing it can't get out of.
It gyrates to mold itself to every new techno-gadget that comes
along. The fast, edgy corrections of self-help regimens give it
something to do: take an aspirin a day (or not); drink a glass of
red wine aday (or not); eat butter, or low-fat margarine, or canola
oil; don't eat carbs at all; eat oatmeal to strip the bad cholesterol
from your arteries; eat wild Alaskan salmon to add the good cho-
lesterol; try antioxidants or kavakava or melatonin.
Against this tendency, aspate of memoirs works the lone self
into afictional sacrifice powerful enough to drag the world's im-
pacts onto stages. Recovery groups add density to the mix, offer-
ing both practical recipes for self-redeeming action and a hard-
hitting, lived recognition of the twisted, all-pervasive ways that
compulsions permeate freedoms and are reborn in the very surge
to get freeof them once and for all.
12
Benny has been straight for ayear and ahalf. He starts going to
a wild Pentecostal church. Then he decides to start a Bikers for
Christ church of his own. The members go to prisons, visiting.
Benny has avision of a big trip to Huntsville or someplace like
that. They'll ride in on, like, 150Harleys and go up the aisles in
12 SeeE veKosofsky Sedgwick, "E pidemics of the Will," in Tendencies
(Durham, N.C.: Duke University Press, 1993).
front of all the cages. He can hear the roar of the engines. He sees
the bikes and muscled bodies following him in. He feels the eyes
of the prisoners on him. He says it'll givethem athrill.
An old friend, Joyce, calls her with horror stories of trying to save
her daughter Lilly from a bad addiction. She says it's like Lilly's
in adream world and shejust doesn't care. Joyce realizes how bad
things are when she goes to bail Lilly out of jail one night but
Lilly refuses to leave her girlfriend and her girlfriend's baby. She
demands that her mother go get diapers for the baby as if that's
the only thing that matters.
Now Lilly's back staying with Joyce and working at Wendy's.
She's saying she wants to get straight so she and her girlfriend
and the baby can get a place of their own. Her license has been
revoked, soJoyce isspending four hours aday driving her over the
mountain to work and picking her up at midnight.
The road is bad, especially at night, and twice this week Joyce
has been followed by the same truck and car. The first time they
were shooting and she didn't know if they were shooting at her,
at each other, or at the road signs. But they finally passed her. The
other time they appeared out of the fogright behind her, but after
awhile they just cut out their lights and disappeared.
One day Joyce called one of the hospitals that advertise addic-
tion programs. They told her it would cost four hundred dollars
a day. She said ''Areyou crazy?" She said, "Those ads are wrong
that say if you need help you can get it. The rich people can help
their kids but not the poor people. Now if I thought I could get
off cigarettes I'd stand naked in the four-lane to town. But now
wait 'til you have kids; you can just kiss your mind goodbye."
ing" is something cce-'.:-:'
hindsight. But it's 1,C ~ _< ~, I
an actual fold or Ie-';~~;c
There are man\' c;;:'-; ,-'
work better than c~:-, c:-
Some can be prolc:-,;c ~
and have to be co:-,'~-'.:-.~.
The difference ofcer:~c-; c- ~
work with.
But even thosecc,:-:',c
behind them are s:i~~~. - ~'"
and they still make r:~:' -
not the smartest lhi:-::
that's not always Ihe ':-:-,~;::
the possibilities e\'C::-, :: "C ~_- ci
Sometimes the scel,C
figure on the horizcl=-_ -
suspended in the a:r -, -
out of place can be -'.;c ~.-'-: ,
Or just funny, quir~-:-.-'.:-:
simultaneously to ,:--,C ':"-", '-=-- =:=
nary affects that anic-'.;c .~-'--~
Her mother's p2.i:-..;::-;
says it really is, becc... 'c ~,-:;: .3
- ~- .:::--_:: ::ngines. He sees
IN'i _- - _::-_,:-Ie feelsthe eyes
: ~-_::::-::-_ .:.::hrill.
,_::' of trying to save
-:: ,.:.~,-sit's like Lilly's
::: r::alizeshowbad
one night but
- .::-,:,"'=-imd's baby. She
- , ~-_:: babv as if that's
/
Theclosureof "theself" or "community" or somekind of "mean-
ing" is something dreamy that happens in amoment of hope or
hindsight. But it'snot just ideology or irrelevant fancy, but rather
an actual fold or texture inthe composition of things.
There aremany compositions of subjects and meanings. Some
work better than others. Some are smoother, more consistent.
Some can be prolonged. Others operate clumsily, break down,
and have to be constantly rethought. They can lead to trouble.
The difference often depends on what material a person has to
work with.
But even those compositions with all the weight of theworld
behind them are still live. They still get hit by forces that shock
and they still make moves to leavethemselves behind, evenif it's
not the smartest thing in theworld to do. Or they get stuck and
that's not alwaysthe smartest thing either. Weremain alert to all
the possibilities evenif wethink weknow it all.
c, : ,::.:ingat Wendy's.
-:: .:.:-:.dher girlfriend
-- ::-::::, :icensehas been
_::~---=-:-i':ing her over the
~T ~::: --::::: this week Joyce
~, _,C _ ::..: ~_:: first time they
.;: -::,:: shooting at her,
.iH =::-_.:.:_~,-passedher. The
~ - -- - ,:::--.indher, but after
ll-., _::- , c:: -:::2Ied.
i!i) ::"'-.:.:: advertiseaddic-
.IJ 1LL: - --..:., hundred dollars
-=-_-_:s:: ads arewrong
- -: ,::-: people can help
- : :",_,:mght I could get
__- -::::0 town. But now
goodbye."
Sometimes the scene of a finished life appears like a beautiful
figure on the horizon. For a minute, it's like a snapshot hangs
suspended in theair whilewewatch, wide-eyed. But alittle detail
out of place can be a telltale sign of something terribly wrong.
Or just funny, quirky, aboink in the perfect scene. We'redrawn
simultaneously to the amazing bubble image and to all the ordi-
nary affectsthat animate it and pull it apart.
Her mother's painting classhas become asupport group. She
saysit really is, because there are interesting people in it, mean-
ing they haveinteresting lives, meaning they all havetheir prob-
lems-something to talk about and something to hide, too.
Mary isthe quiet onewho never saysaword and everything is
alwaysfinewith her. But one day sheletssomething slipabout a
first husband and they're all over it. To make along story short,
shemarried the guy who helped her get awayfromher first hus-
band and now they'reso happy they eat low-fat vegetarian food,
take all kinds of pills, and measure and weigh everything sothey
cangoon livingforever.
Sue'sfirst husband was cheap. Hewouldn't spend adime. He
took to his bed on their wedding dayand never got up again. He
finallycommitted suicideon the day of her second marriage. The
others notice that shetalks fast and never seemsto sit down.
They suspect Betty comes frommoney. She'smore of the gar-
den club crowd. But her family isn't exactlywhat you'd call good
to her and she lost her only son in a car wreck. She paints too
fast; she'sjust happy to get onething done and get on to the next
one. Her husband makes thelittle boxesand plaques sheneeds to
keepher busy. She'snicetalkingbut onceinawhileshe'll swear-
"That son of abitch."
Carol's husband quit working because he couldn't take the
stress. He roamed around thehouse all day.Then hedecided that
most of hisstresscamefromher. Hestarted followingher around
the house, writing down in alittle leather notebook everything
shedid that stressedhimout.
Donna's husband left her and their four kids for a younger
woman. Shefinallyfound another man but the others aresuspi-
cious of him becausehe told Donna that shewas50000 beautiful
and he said that shewas going to turn his lifearound. (Theeyes
roll). Shehas his ring and he'smoved in with her and right away
he's quit his job and hewants her to sell her house and buy an-
other one becausehedoesn't want to haveto bereminded of her
former husband. And it looks like he drinks. She's counting. It
looks likeit'sfour cocktails anight, at least.
Her mother, Claire
her problems. So the ::: ~.
life.When shegave::--.~:-: . .:.... ~:
novel The Notebook, :.'~ c.
husband werelike, 0:-.=c:
awoman who did soc=:.__~'- :...:
do that, but I bet C::
Likealivewire, ,he '.: =:. c..::;
in the process of its
agulation of intensit:e;
pressions, it'sathins .=.". .
eventsit traversesor ::-..'.:: .'
Things happen, ~'.~~: -
someplaceit didn't e,::::.
A cheerful e-mail.=c:-:'.=
When he lived in r~~~ ~_~_- _':
hewould stop b:, 2:-;:-; ~__
the streets, or dolls 0: -::..- - -
objects, real or imag::-.~c
sional phone calL
Mike was here ~:: :.' .
around, and then :-~'c ' _
awonderful week cr.C . :. ~ ~.
toWisconsin, no::: :~.
rather, it turns ou:. ::
;ml- c-_:,aye their prob-
I. - :: :: hide, too.
z' ' ~::c-;deverything is
,',~:.';r1gslip about a
m :. - - c.c::: :: .::::1gstory short,
Ir' _ ,~ ::-:1her first hus-
l"" .~::: '"~getarian food,
~;al _ c:. - ::':::::-::::hing so they
Her mother, Claire, is the good listener. She doesn't like to air
her problems. So the others think she's the one with the perfect
life. When she gavethem all acopy of Nicholas Sparks's romantic
novel The Notebook, they decided that was what Claire and her
husband were like. One day when one of them was talking abour
awoman who did something daring shesaid, "Well I would never
do that, bur I bet Claire would."
_:- ':::::::1d a dime. He
., _ ::~;:: up again. He
lilt -:-.::' :narriage. The
:: ';Idown.
II[ . ~: ~~::reof the gar-
1'-::: ,--ou"dcall good
III : :':. S~e paints too
115 = - _.-:: ::::::: on to the next
::::::::, sheneeds to
f'r ., __::c ,he'll swear-
Like a livewire, the subject channels what's going on around it
in the process of its own self-composition. Formed by the co-
agulation of intensities, surfaces, sensations, perceptions, and ex-
pressions, it's athing composed of encounters and the spaces and
events it traverses or inhabits.
Things happen. The self moves to react, often pulling itself
someplace it didn't exactly intend to go.
:: ::dn't take the
I: "'. -.:--:::- :-_~decided that
it: " : -<~g her around
- J~ everything
- ror a younger
'1lIJ - - _ - ":: : :::ers are suspi-
iii ,.'::.' ,")1)00 beautiful
IllEr' ::: :.l::1d. (The eyes
c::: ---.::: ,:'::1dright away
iI[J . ::~.: :'::c and buy an-
1m ::::: :::::mindedof her
~.-.::c', counting. It
A cheerful e-mail comes from her friend Andrew in Chicago.
When he lived in his tiny little house down the street from her,
he would stop by, bringing acorns that had dropped in piles on
the streets, or dolls or paintings he had made, or stories of found
objects, real or imagined. Now it's e-mails coming in and an occa-
sional phone call.
Mikewas herefor theweek, and it's alwaysso fun to havehim
around, andthen hehastogo, andI getalittleblue. 0, well,wehad
awonderful weekand did all sortsof funthings. Yesterdaywedrove
toWisconsin, not to get apples, though weintended to do that, but
rather, it turns out, to snoop on Kenoshaand Racine. In Kenosha,
which was ascute asabug, and just about assmall, wesawasign that
said "E state Sale" ... oh; you can imagine me salivating at that can't
you? An estate salein Sneekcraggle, Wisconsin?! Let's go!
Sowe do. It's down aregular street of suburban homes. And then
down a road that's narrower and the houses smaller, then down a
gravel path to homes that are E ASILY half the size of my house in
Austin! Really! It's like miniature people live on this street. All sorts
of trees and bushes separate the homes and the grass is mowed "up
to a certain point" and then it's just weeds. The garage with the sale
is about six inches below ground level and is filled with the most
charming display of things and more things. And it's all half off. I get
a cluster of old rusty knives and forks taped together with the price
"$I.48for ALL (8)," and Mike gets two crimson sateen brocade pil-
lows that looked like they areinspired by the Ali Baba-in-the-Harem
look. Inside, I can't pass up the crocheted carnations, which you are
supposed to use as pulls for your window shades! So many other
wonders that we can't or won't buy but it is alovely dream. And the
sellers! Mike and I are ready to move in just to hang out with them.
All of them very Wisconsiny, lots of O's and gee-whizzes. There is a
room full of Betty Whites! All trying to help us figure out the half
price. She keeps saying "0, gee. This is a hard one! One forty-eight!
ogee, what would that be, then? Wow, well let's go on to this one,
half of twenty-five, well, let's call it twelve cents, ok?" and on like
that. I am totally cuted our because they are all over seventy and are
wearing Bulls parkas. The day is like that. No apples, bur lots of yel-
low and butterscotch and red trees. Just calming to drive through.
dumfounded. \'('112,' ,~c-
gats! Fuck you fagge,'
There's a sad siJ,::-.-=-:'
"But how did dre-
"Hellooooo~
enjoying themsek:,
"Oh."
Then another e-mail comes from Andrew about a trip through
Virginia. He and Mike are stopped at a traffic light. A gang of
punks parades across the street wearing black clothes, safety pins,
day-glow hair, and piercings. Andrew beams at them, following
their progress with pleasure until one of the women starts point-
ing at them, screaming something. Andrew stares at her mouth,
E ncounters can hacC' ::-. ,--"','1
ones, either.
One day the \yc:-:-..=....' ,
turns and stares 2I ~.:, ;:,--=- _".J
spreading over her '2:-.-=-: ,_
She smiles bac~~2, ~-:
ment of locked ga.=> '
young woman nod, e':: .J
"Well I live in Ihe :-:e~- _ . --
so)." The woman ::-2':-:.'
lips as if to say, "He":'. :-c.:-.
her eyes are gleam::-:~
She slides her IT." -=-. e ,-
"Ok, then. Bye-ke, . _
sees her come OUI 2":-.= ~:-
She tells the SIC:-- 2, '
course the woma:-: -'2,
thing.
Oh. Yea. I guess,:
But the smiling ::-:-.2~:
l''''' _ ~ ~~ :-:-~~:, \\~esawasignthat
C::' - -, ='~:',~dtingat that can't
lif - - =-=t'S go!
~ _ = _ : . - : ~ - ~ homes. And then
It: _ .:-:-.2.11er,then down a
"" . --=<:c", of my house in
III!I = .~, ~:-.:ssrreet.All sorts
l1li::, _ -- =~~dSSismowed "up
~, ~- =~2rdgewith the sale
!i'i." =='--:",d with the most
-.-.:.:~'sall half off. I get
ill: ~=~:-'",r with the price
1IJi"" .. ~ '2~eenbrocade pil-
i -."-..32ba-in-the-Harem
_ .~2~.=':1S,whichyou are
.E _-2~=S: SO many other
illLr ~=>dream. And the
dumfounded. What's that she's saying? "Look at the fucking fag-
gots! Fuck you faggots! Fuck you!"
There's asad silence in the car.
"But how did they know, Mike?"
"Hellooooo! Two men driving in a car together ... clearly
enjoying themselves ... wearing sweaters.... "
"Oh."
rn :. ~-~-'--1.g out with them.
_.- = ~==-~',~hizzes. Thereisa
!! ."...' :=gureout the half
i ~'':' :... :< Oneforty-eight!
=. =~,go onto this one,
_ =:... ~" ok?" and on like
s:: ~c .... ~=~,~er seventyand are
m_ 2Z? les, but lotsof yel-
fit" _ ... - ~; ~odrivethrough.
E ncounters can happen anywhere. And not the just sad and scary
ones, either.
One day the woman in front of her at the convenience store
turns and stares at her, grinning, a look of dawning recognition
spreading over her tanned young face. Her eyesareecstatic.
She smiles back at the young woman. Then, after a long mo-
ment of locked gazes, she says, "You think you know me." The
young woman nods ever so slightly and heaves asigh of pleasure.
"Well I livein the neighborhood. Maybe we met through (soand
so)." The woman barely shrugs and slowly puts afinger up to her
lips asif to say, "Hush (little baby, don't you cry)." Shesighs again;
her eyesare gleaming.
Sheslides her money past the young woman to pay the cashier.
"Ok, then. Bye-bye." As she is pulling out of the parking lot she
seesher come out and get on her bike.
She tells the story at home that night and it's decided that of
course the woman was on something-acid or ecstasy or some-
thing.
Oh. Yea. I guess so.
But the smiling image stays with her for aday or two.
_ . ~.~ZJut atrip through
I _ .. :.....:.:.:. light. A gang of
- ~=::.:.:othes,safety pins,
rJ'lV" : =~~.' 2t them, following
lit _. - :,'.' Jmen starts point-
".~ .L,;'~,__ _ ~-':2.resat her mouth,
The labor of looking has been retooled and upgraded sowe can
cut back and forth between the images popping up in the living
roomand some kind of real world out there.
America's Most V01nted airs photos of bank robbers with and
without beards soyou can scan the facesat the 7-II for amatch.
Mimicking the moves of surveillance technologies, the citizenry
now practices self-discipline on the level of abodily impulse. Of
coursethere arerefusalstoo, and all kinds of ambivalence, hesita-
tions, and sidesteps. Practicesgathered under thesignof discipline
actually havetendrils spreading out to complex and shifting states
of attraction and distraction, pleasureand sadness, belonging and
longing. Littlehalf-lived gameslikescanning the facesat the 7-II
arenot just amatter of festering alienation or amean-spirited will
to bend others to the rule of law.There is also the simple seduc-
tion of the gameof recognition itself. Or the fascination with the
moment when something snaps into a frame to become more
real, or at least more particular. E xcessesof all kinds draw special
attention-successes and failure, surgesof action, wildtrajectories
that leadsomewhere.
There aresocialities of thewatching. In the convenience store,
there is an aggressivelycasual, noncommittal noticing-half fur-
tive, half bored. If there's a checkout line, it's loose; people mill
around waiting. They buy lottery tickets, cigarettes, junk food,
and beer. There are those who buy a single giant can of cheap
beer early in the morning. There are those who have a habit of
two or more trips to the "rip store" a day. There are those who
build aroutine of going once aday just to get out of the house;
to havethe transaction of buying something; to make brief, light
talk. There arethosewho only stop in occasionally for aquart of
milk or anewspapc '~' ~~c _ -
things together.
Differences of at ~=--
tion, sometimes aIT.-':;~:-:': _.
interest insomethi,.Z ;.
aredisplaysofkiI~d:-.~
can benoted asa .~
Sheand the bab:' :~~c-
port there are ba:1:2'
hotel shuttles. It's :::. .:..-:. ~_
room, but then a :-~~-==: __ -_ :I
Suites. He saysit's~'-.~-: . ~c.:::
sive. It'sright dO\\:-.~=-.=
The place issc:.:-.~~ ~.
calm, and next to c.-.~~~'
casesstocked wid:. _~:. =- .. ..
The suites arehu::::':':-. _ .- .
ately brings up a :~i~:.~
sheets and abab,.-':-:.:.:-.:~'
They go do\\-n c.: c.' ~
bar has been set L:- c.:-.:' :. .
pizzaand talking a:~: :
five-dollar bill. Th::::-.:.~~ =. :. c' ~
yourself to some pi.:.:.:
people gathered ar:'-'::'.:.
eating together in s:~~~ "I.
The hotel is 0\',:-. ~:.
everyone, except le:. c. := ..:!
color. It'slikeaset:': ~ .: _' = -
differently. A nene ~~. -'-::. -
.' _ - ~_:,zraded so we can
~-~~:-.; up in the living
milk or anewspaper because it's efficient and they're busy holding
things together.
Differences of all kinds arenoted automatically. There is irrita-
tion, sometimes amusement, or ahard-boiled, hard-hearted lack of
interest in something someone elseisdoing. And sometimes there
aredisplays of kindness-brief, Bickering, half-made gestures that
can be noted as abright moment in the day, or ignored.
II, : -:: ~:,bbers with and
~ _- =.-.=--II for amatch .
1.. - _.: ;:;:5, the citizenry
If . ~~-2il.','impulse. Of
I :- ':':--.::'inlence, hesita-
B:"'.~_.- :: - :_-=,ign of discipline
.' - ~=.:.:-:cd shifting states
.1' ::'-_='S. belonging and
I" . -~=:-.=~acesatthe7-II
lID. - -::. :i-;:an-spirited will
::';: simple seduc-
E '_-: :':'.':::1ation with the
luLl, _.:' =- become more
1::: - _ .:.-.:-.ds draw special
_::- ":ild trajectories
:: =-.-:eniencestore,
IiJ I - - __ :-.: ::cing- half fur-
.' ,:: se; people mill
. ::::.~=::es,junk food,
' ~: ;.:.::: can of cheap
-.: :'w'e a habit of
I: ~- =:0': are those who
p ;:=: -..::of the house;
1lIl!T' =: :i-:.akebrief, light
, :-.:..>- for aquart of
She and the baby get stuck overnight in Atlanta. Outside the air-
port there are banks of phones and a whole parking lot full of
hotel shuttles. It's cold and gray. She starts randomly calling for a
room, but then anice shuttle driver gets them one at the Ameri-
Suites. He saysit's the best place in town, anyway, and not expen-
sive. It's right down the street.
The place is strangely gracious and homey. The clerks arevery
calm, and next to the front desk there are freezer and refrigerated
cases stocked with ordinary frozen dinners, ice cream, and fruit.
The suites are huge and they have full kitchens. A man immedi-
ately brings up a crib for the baby and sets it up, complete with
sheets and ababy blanket. (This never happens in hotels.)
They go down to the lobby to roam around. An impromptu
bar has been set up and people are sitting here and there, eating
pizza and talking across tables. She asks for abeer and holds out a
five-dollar bill. The bartender says "What's that for? It's free. Help
yourself to some pizza." In the morning the same room is full of
people gathered around a full complementary breakfast buffet,
eating together in sleepy intimacy.
The hotel is owned and staffed by African Americans, and
everyone, except for a few stragglers like herself, is a person of
color. It's like ascene of unexpected hope. A way of doing things
differently. A nerve relaxed. A sense of learning. Because for once
killing neighborhooc :~~ ~.. :
The grassgrows to tc _I I::
trailer in the from ',"T':' ~ -. .::;
and starts ramming ~: ~:,: .. =:
they'reevicted. The:~=- -=-- =
thewhite people arenot in chargeof some kind of sensory alarm
system.
Power isathing of the senses. It livesasacapacity, or ayearning,
or afestering resentment. It can besensualized in night rages.
It can begin asasecret kept or asagesture glimpsed in ahall-
way.
It can beleaked or harvested for future reference.
It can spread likewildflower seeds randomly tossed on asub-
urban lawn.
Wedo things with power, and to it. Therearepalpable pleasures
and acid stomachs in questioning it, spying on it, digging it up,
callingit out, evadingit, ingratiating oneself to it, sacrificingone-
self on itsaltar, putting something overon it, or somehow coming
to rest outside itswhirlpool even for aminute.
Down the street thc:~: ~' c~
He's inhis forties\"+.~=-. ,.:
house next to her t~ic:=-.':'-~=-.-:1ii
livedbeforethat.
At first, heand _~~::'
.
and talking about :".': _ _ _
goesout to get hise-'---. .
pointedly and snee:', ..::
talk to Andrew at
Sometimes \"her. 'T.: :".'
guy out in his fron=~:.:.
raged if someone cr>,,: :
foul languageat the=::: =: .
sayshe'snever hea=- ~---=--. -.::
The guy becoIT,c:' -
attic. He starts talL::.:: ~=
the niceties of tran~: -:' : - .
J:--'r --:- ~,- -
Andrew comes haec: ~-: .::-_
shocked. All hesa',', :' -
inhis attic again, at-:c:::::= - ..
just lost it. Hegot a,,:--. =~:- _,.. _. :
ceiling. Blood and ~:...=' :.. ..'
white carpet.
Now he'sstandins: .=-. =. __:
Theyoung woman who livesnext door starts to pour agallonjug
of Round-Up around atree in her front yard so she can plant a
decorative lawn cover there. Danny runs over to tell the woman
she'll kill the trees and poison everything with that stuff. He says
it's reallyjust Agent Orange in an over-the-counter jug. He says
hedoesn't think thewoman's all there. A year or two later, shedies
in a car accident. Her husband is screaming and smashing walls
in the house. Hordes of men move in with him. They hang out
on the front porch, drinking beer and heckling women walking
by on the street. They get puppies and then neglect them. Sothe
puppies howl all day in the backyard or escapeand run around
~. '~:-.::' .~. rsensoryalarm
killing neighborhood cats. Themen start to fight with eachother.
The grass grows to four feet tall and they park alargeboat on a
trailer in the front yard. One day one of them gets in his truck
and starts ramming all the other trucks parked over there. Finally,
they're evicted. Thelandlord callsthemhippies.
,:':: _ ' ,~:: ::.:~-.:c,'.or ayearning,
._::.~::..:-:night rages.
~.;j _ '_=~~:~:npsedin ahall-
Down the street there's aVietnam vet with a temper problem.
He's inhis forties when hemarries thewoman who owns the tiny
house next to her friend Andrew's place. No one knows where he
livedbeforethat.
At first, he andAndrew get alongwell asmen borrowing tools
and talking about lawns and fences. But then one day Andrew
goesout to get hismail wearing asarong and theguystaresat him
pointedly and sneers, "Nice SKIRT." Mter that he doesn't want to
talk to Andrew at all, or evenlook at him.
Sometimes when she drives by on her way home she seesthe
guy out in his front yard yelling at cars. Andrew sayshe gets en-
raged if someone drives by too fast or something, and he spews
foul languageat thetop of hislungs for afull ten minutes. Andrew
sayshe'snever heard anything likeit-not evenclose.
The guy becomes obsessed with raccoons getting into his
attic. He starts talking to Andrew again in order to discuss all
the niceties of trapping and killing raccoons. Then one day when
Andrew comeshome theguy isstanding inhisyard looking shell-
shocked. All hesaysis"Oh! It'sbad! It'sbad!" He heard thecoons
inhis attic again, after months of coon-proofing strategies, and he
just lost it. He got ashotgun and shot bigholes inthelivingroom
ceiling. Blood and guts dropped out and fell onto his wife'snew
white carpet.
Now he'sstanding in theyard, coveredwith blood, panicked.
-': ' =::.:: ?alpable pleasures
'':: :~. it. digging it up,
: : ::.:~:.sacrificingone-
, ' :::.somehowcoming
II c.:-:: ::'.Jpour agallonjug
~. ::c.: ~ so shecan plant a
~i "':::: to tell the woman
~-:"",:: .::.:-: that stuff. He says
,::<Junter jug. He says
1
1Ihe :"'" ' =::c.:.x tWOlater, shedies
.i'.,=,:~=_. :-.':: md smashing walls
"ii' ""..iim. They hang out
i.:. " :::c::'::ngwomen walking
lIB: ::. "".:::-. :1eglectthem. Sothe
kT::' : ::<ape and run around
stant clashof people: _:- -; _=;
consuming dream0=' =,Z,-,. _ J
To saythat athi:':_~:~ . :::':]
saythat it'slikeab2.~:::c:.., - ,~
can talk people ou=:::=-:. - -:
holds things toged'.:::". :: --::.J
beliefs, networks, :e:~.:-: ~
and events.
It can take mane,'
lute rage, ahabit 0=' o~,:-::
will, a body in a s=:=~
thrashing around 2.=-:- _ - . -_I
road rage, or parer.=,","__=::. __1:
children, or drug a::C:.:= ',:J
spiral out of it. Ther::'.:- c
it plays itself Out, .~:,==~::::
dreams popping up~, . __. __
in workplaces ane ::-.=.r='::': .
her children to sa',:: =~~:- .- -
Junta-the "hockc:' ::::: -
the ice. Or Juma's: r::=,", ~:: _-:::
and battery with a 'C-d ;:: _ ::
at aBest Buy emplc:'c~
receipt.
Agency can be strange, twisted, caught up in things, passive, or
exhausted. Not the way we like to think about it. Not usually a
simpleprojection toward afuture.
It's what we mean by "having a life" (as in "get a life"). But
it's caught up in things. Circuits, bodies, moves, connections. It
takes unpredictable and counterintuitive forms. It'slivedthrough
a series of dilemmas: that action is always a reaction; that the
potential to act alwaysincludes thepotential to beacted on, or to
submit; that the moveto gather aself to act isalsoamove to lose
the self; that one choice precludes others; that actions can have
unintended and disastrous consequences; and that all agency is
frustrated and unstable and attracted to the potential in things.
It'snot reallyabout willpower but rather something much more
complicated and much more rooted in things.
Redemption: Therecoveryof something pawned or mortgaged. A
second chanceborn of sufferingand still resonant with loss.
Thedreamof redemptive violencehasbecome theready matter
of commonplace dreams. Dramas of a clarifYingsurge of action
saturate ordinary life, macho movies, laws, publics, institutions,
and diffuse, existential dilemmas of personhood and power.
Mythic heroes sacrifice themselves to rebirth the world. Tight
little circles of religion wrap themselves in apocalyptic dreams.
The nation-state gets tough on crime on behalf of family values.
The death penalty comes to stand for the execution of evil itself,
one individual at a time. And everyday lifeis hot with the con-
Something huge aIl~.:- ~~.
mysteriously intimc.-::::- ~~.=.~__i~~
concrete, it's both 2. :>=.:-"- -,
claustrophobicall:~-=~;=~:: ~~: -
stuck in acustomer ,~:- ,::: --
to get to the bottoD ::=' ::,-. .
~.:-_::,gs, passive, or
-~. -:\ot usually a
~~: a life"). But
~'. ;:onnections. It
=~'5 liyedthrough
_ -:c:-'.;:,ion; that the
~ ~- T';" a;:tedon, or to
~; :'2. moveto lose
~_-_.:. ~-'.;:,ionscan have
- :. ~_-_2.t all agency is
- - = :: : ~c:=-_:ial in things.
-- ~-:... inamuch more
- - - - - - - ;:,
__ __ ::_~::.J:: mortgaged. A
:=-_~: \yith loss.
:-_":~eready matter
.:.:~=-_~surgeof action
:: --,-"=, L;:s,institutions,
-::': :=- __ _:.oodand power.
-:'-: :~_ Theworld. Tight
- ':'?~Kal:rpticdreams.
- : ~::_2.::- of family values.
-_- = ~:" :-,,:ionof evil itself,
: _' hot with the con-
stant clashof peoplebutting up against eachother followedbythe
consuming dreamof righteous revenge.
To saythat athing likeredemptive violence isamyth isnot to
saythat it'slikeabad dreamyou canwakeup fromor anideayou
can talk people out of. It's more likeastrand in the netting that
holds things together. A conduit for bits and pieces of political
beliefs, networks, technologies, affinities, dreamed-of possibilities
and events.
It can take many forms. It can be a mean pettiness, a disso-
lute rage, ahabit of self-destruction, an overcharged and swollen
will, a body in a state of alarm. It can be a derailed sensibility
thrashing around at full throttle. Or something really small. It's
road rage, or parents whipped into violent deeds to protect their
children, or drug addicts slashing at theAmerican dreamasthey
spiral out of it. There's alwayssomething alittle "off" in the way
it plays itself out. A little sad. It's the teenagers who kill, the pipe
dreams popping up all over theplace, thesmoldering resentments
in workplaces and intimate spaces. It's Andrea Yates drowning
her children to savethem from eternal damnation. Or Thomas
Junta-the "hockey dad" -killing his son's coach in a fight on
the ice. Or Junta's brother, arrested shortly thereafter for assault
and battery with adangerous weapon when hethrew acell phone
at aBest Buy employeewho wouldn't let him return it without a
receipt.
Something huge and impersonal runs through things, but it'salso
mysteriously intimate and close at hand. At once abstract and
concrete, it's both a distant, untouchable order of things and a
claustrophobically closepresence, like the experience of getting
stuck in acustomer serviceinformation loop every time you try
to get to thebottom of things.
It's as if a net has grown around a mutating gelatinous sub-
stance.
It'salsoasif thenet isfull of holes, sothat littlepiecesor whole
blobs of things arealwaysfalling out of it and starting up some
new thing on their own.
It harbors fantasies and fears.
It spawns trajectories.
It setsup aquick relaybetween things.
It induces both rage and the softly positive sense of being
connected and so somehow safe (or not, but at least "in it
together") .
There's a promise of losing oneself in the flowof things. But
the promise jumps in aquick relay to the sobering threats of big
business, global warming, the big-box corporate landscape, the
master-planned community, the daily structural violence of in-
equalities of all kinds, the lost potentials, the livesnot lived, the
hopes still quietly harbored or suddenly whipped into afrenzy.
E ither that, or the promise of losing yourself in the flow be-
comes adull, empty drifting that you can't get yourself out of
an act of vengeance 2~-'--:- .. ,
emerge on the parai.::. ~:..;~
into place: the h:Te::- .; ..~"
bottomless rageagai,,-,: :" .
signs of what "the::' "-:~_: .
action asaspectacle: ~:- :,....0
But there's more :: .: :.'~: -
theory. An intima:e ~::-.:'
activities, and little:: ..c.,..
"they" aredoing. __ ,
tices, the indeterm::-.c.:~::. ::-
panics, the dream :: : :?: .:;
kind of final truth (': ': .
what this isall abo..::
Conspiracy the:::- :-.J
routes, articulating 2--.:'::: ':.:.;I
byanall-pervasi\';::,'::-:.::::.'-~. 1
that bearefuncrio:-.-,--,.:::.
isstructural, and t:-.2:::
intentional, and o :=:--:--=-_ -~ - -
alwaysalready m::,:;:::..: -
areversal or aretL::-.2' .': . :e.:
around or some::,-::-.:::
Investigative reports, talk shows, TV series, movies, novels, and
textbooks present adiffuse, sometimes panicked, senseof struggle
against unknown forces-a deep worry that normality isn't nor-
mal anymore, that somebody has done something to the way
things usedto be, that wehavelost something, that wehavebeen
changed.
Conspiracy theory follows power's secret moves through the
telltalesignsinscribed on banal surfaces. It takesthevaguelylived
sense that something isn't quite right and then snaps it into a
puzzleform, asearch for underlying causes. It dreams of areturn
to apristine past and the redemption of ahuman agency born in
She'sflyingback :'-,::-::.': 'c::-~a
Near theend of tr.:c=-=-. z . " -. . - = :1
heavy rain in the H :_: _ =,,,-
hasflooded (there' "-~..~ ._
the airport. Her -;:2:-.:::
Bythetime the:'
But then by the ti:-::~:'. -C-.J
~:cc sense of being
='-J.rat least "in it
an act of vengeance against the actual state of things. E xtremists
emerge on the paranoid edge. A profile of the loner/loser snaps
into place: the hypervigilant over-the-edge look in his eye; the
bottomless rageagainst the system; the obsessivecompilation of
signs of what "they" are up to; the guy free-falling into violent
action asaspectacleof somekind of crisisof agency.
But there's more to it than this. There's pleasure in conspiracy
theory. An intimate knowledge of secret collusions, clandestine
activities, and little collaborative worlds of an "us" tracking what
"they" aredoing. There arethe small, inventive interpretive prac-
tices, the indeterminate trajectories of where things might go, the
panics, the dream of popping up into the limelight with some
kind of final truth or something, themoment of the "Ahha! That's
what this isall about!"
Conspiracy theory travels through divergent and conflicting
routes, articulating awidely shared sensibility of being controlled
byanall-pervasivesomething. It takesfor granted that thepowers
that bearefunctionaries of the opposing camp; that the problem
isstructural, and that social structures aremysterious, motivated,
intentional, and often malevolent. It nods to an ordinary that is
alwaysalready mixed up in all of this, and yet it also beckons to
areversal or areturn asif asudden magical jolt could turn things
around or something.
~c-c~ ~c_-:-dcpiecesor whole
c c':""-c:' srarting up some
- ~c:-:='o w of things. But
- :::-;:ringthreats of big
c:-::-:::-dlelandscape, the
~~. _:~-_rJ violence of in-
~-c:-~i';esnot lived, the
. ::-?cdinto afrenzy.
: _..-,elfin the flow be-
.
- ~:::-~-,'ourselfout of.
rrlovies, novels, and
- ~..::~;:d,senseof struggle
,- ~..-'-~rlormality isn't nor-
:...-:'.ethingto the way
- ::~c-c. .,=. that wehavebeen
_i::'.- :-:::-~ moves through the
.r:,__ :: ~i.--;.cs thevaguelylived
~_.:.~ien snaps it into a
liB' -< I~dreams of areturn
p' . ~.:- ..:.managency born in
She'sflyingback fromGuatemala enroute toAustin viaHouston.
Near theend of the flight thepilot announces that therehas been
heavy rain in the Houston area. The new air traffic control tower
hasflooded (there'saflawinthedesign), and they haveshut down
the airport. Her plane isshort on fuel, so it's diverted to Austin.
Bythetime they land thirty minutes later, Houston hasreopened.
But then by the time they refuel Houston has shut down again.
Thepilot announces that there isno plan. No one can get off the
plane sincethere isno immigration officeinAustin. They wait on
therunway for nine hours. They run out of water and toilet paper.
One man in awheelchair has to betaken off the plane.
They fly back to Houston, but they havejust missed the last
plane back to Austin. They'regivenvouchers for adiscount on a
hotel and are assigned to flights in the morning. It's 2 AM when
they get checked inat thehotel and set off on foot acrossanurban
expanseof highways to find an all-night diner.
Thenext morning at 6, thelinesstretch hundreds of yards out-
sidethe terminal. Inside, three lines snake around the lobby fill-
ing every inch of it with bodies pressed together. Sometimes the
linescrossor mergebut no oneknows which oneisbest, or which
one they aresupposed to bein, or where the lines aregoing. She
endures alongwith the rest of thepassengers. Occasionally anair-
line employee dressed in red moves through the crowd, drawing
frantic questions. But the employees don't know anything. The
monitors are dead. At IO she makes it to a ticket counter and is
told that her 9 o'clock flight has long been canceled. The agent
saysshecan book her on aflight the next afternoon. Shesaysno
way. Somehow shegetson standby on aflight that might leavein
four hours.
Inside the terminal, the working monitors show all flights as
"delayed." Hers doesn't show up at all. Shewanders around until
she finds a gate with a mob of people trying to get to Austin.
Later, she gets on a flight. The next morning the news reports
that Houston airport isback to normal, and wetry to forget, asif
nothing happened. Just moveon.
tisegainpurchase ie c.'.~::~, ,.
eratein theverydFo::-,,:
She'sin LasVega'. ~:
partment of E nerg:.- ::.._
pository in the desc': ::-:.,.
ings. Theformat is21''-':-' '.' c
saythat sciencecae :-,':'::-.::"':: :.,::
only incites reactio:1.=-:::::: ,:: C..L...
scenarios of what cce.:..::. ' ':::1
country from a hLL'::':::::' '
gency cleanup cre\,'s"
spill. Or they come '_? "
could dowith the sc.:.:=:: '
ocean floor.
Sometimes the D::::' ,. ',--
the opposite of whc.: ':.::' :: "-='
geology is not aprec:c':.'~ . =:
happen to plutonic:...-c.:_--c_
years.
One day at a he.:..c::::.;-- ."'
wastetransportation c.:..: .': .
themselves. Thev
very systematic-Iook:::-.=
irrational public fec.c-. =.- c
feet high with barrels: ".-._~::__ ,'
entrance to a Ke\y ",:: = - -.:
hanging over their :e.:.:::,: .:..':::
abridge clearance s;;:::, :.c.~'
has fallen off the cc:.c:: ::""::'
tunnel. It's the mor:-.~:::.:
"Go for id" The DOE -.:-'
technology to circu.-:::::.'.-
control systems. Ar c':::.~::
his hand on the nud::.:..':' ::...-:: :.;;:
There are uncertainties (to say the least) in the links between
human action and complex systems. Notions of truth and exper-
j;]n ' ~:Jne can get off the
m r - _~_.~_;.:.s,in. Theywait on
mur _ - : :"'.o:er and toilet paper.
Ill:: - - : -::: : eplane.
1I[- ..oe.1S' missed the last
eI _--e:' Toradiscount on a
!i1I'1 - : :- __ng. It's 2 AM when
Ii[ . ~::_:-ootacrossanurban
I: _:- _-_ .1.-:.dreds of yards out-
D::: ~:e .o:'Jundthe lobby fill-
-=- .: .::e:l-cer. Sometimes the
liT','" - ::_ ,Jneisbest, or which
IF _ -" : e~inesaregoing. She
:-_;e:,. Occasionally anair-
1Ir: -- - . _;.- Thecrowd, drawing
lilII'i:" -=- :._: ~-:-,owanything. The
i1ic - -. -=- ::cket counter and is
I::: : ee._canceled. The agent
_::=:ernoon. Shesaysno
~ _ =-_;:c: rhat might leavein
.'::: - . :.:s show all flights as
1Il1:_ :-_ e--anders around until
:: ::--::1g to get to Austin.
.e:- -: .:__ ng the news reports
IIJ ,- -=-=-_-=- '.\-etry to forget, asif
I1II 0. _ _=: :n the links between
III -: ._.,_5 of truth and exper-
tisegainpurchase in thegap, but sketchy connections alsoprolif-
eratein theveryeffort to solidifYsomekind of order.
She'sin LasVegas, following the conflict over whether the De-
partment of E nergy (DOE ) will build anational nuclear waste re-
pository in the desert north of the city. There are regular hear-
ings. Theformat isalwaysthesame. E xperts deployed by the DOE
saythat sciencecan handle the nuclear waste. But this statement
only incites reaction. Peoplecall themliarsand then offer detailed
scenarios of what could happen to nuclear waste trucked cross-
country from a hundred sites on back roads where local emer-
gency cleanup crewswon't haveacluewhat to do with anuclear
spill. Or they come up with bright ideas about what elsethe DOE
could dowith thestuff, likeshoot it to themoon or bury it in the
ocean floor.
Sometimes the DOE scientists, put on the spot, end up saying
the opposite of what they'vebeen brought there to say.They say
geology is not apredictive science; there's no sayingwhat might
happen to plutonium buried underground for ten thousand
years.
One day at a hearing in a casino, the DOE displays a nuclear
wastetransportation casksothat people canseeit and touch it for
themselves. They showcharts of the DOE chain of command (it's
very systematic-looking). Then they show cartoons that parody
irrational public fears. One is of a pickup truck piled fourteen-
feet high with barrels of nuclear waste. Thetruck isstopped at the
entrance to a New York City tunnel. Workers with beer bellies
hanging over their jeans arestanding around in traffic looking at
abridge clearance sign that says"elevenfeet." One of the barrels
has fallen off the truck and is rolling down the ramp into the
tunnel. It's the moment of decision. One of the men is saying,
"Go for it!" The DOE saystheir systemisnot likethis. They have
technology to circumvent the human factor. They have quality
control systems. At one point the DOE general manager places
his hand on the nuclear wastecask for afull minute to showthat
abody doesn't blow up on contact with nuclear waste (of course
the cask hehas his hand on isempty). Then he invites the public
to the parking lot outside to seethe cask that has just made the
first dry run across the country in an eighteen-wheeler. They go
inside the trailer to touch the cask and listen to the loud hum of
its "containment systems." It has alot of flashinglights.
Then shegoesup and talksto thetruck driver sitting inthecab.
He'swearing acut-off Harley Davidson T-shirt and hehasseveral
earrings in one ear. Hewants to talk about his high-level security
clearance-a Gclearance, which isbetter eventhan aC clearance.
Sheaskshimabout the computer keyboard sitting on the passen-
ger seat. He tellsher astory. Ashewasdriving awayfromthe ori-
ginpoint inNewJersey, they told himto logineveryfifteenmin-
utes sothey'd know where hewas at all times. He had never used
acomputer before, soheresponded asif it wereajoke: "Yeahsure,
I'll call you when I get there." But the keyboard turned out to be
easy to use-nothing to it. E xcept that the first time he logged
on, the people reading the satellite that was tracking himsent an
urgent messageaskingif hehad been rerouted. When hepunched
inthat thiswastheroute he'dbeen given, hereceivedanalert that
hewas on thewrong route, which was accompanied by asecond
urgent request that hespecifYif hehad been rerouted. Soheshut
off thecomputer becauseifhe'd had real nuclear material onboard
hecertainly wasn't going to listen to thesepeople. Anybody could
havegotten control of thesatellite-terrorists or nuts. Therewere
terrorists out therewho'd loveto get their hands on this stuff.
He ended up driving cross-country with no system tracking
hislocation, following theroute he'dbeen givenbyhisdispatcher.
For three days hewas off the grid and they had no ideawhere he
was. Or at least that washisstory. And shewashappier ending her
own day'sstory there rather than insidewith the DOE 'S claimto
the banality of business asusual.
The 0rdinary is a IT.:'.__~:~-~
senseof, but aset or 'e:__ .: ~- -
The possibility tb: ': :-:-::'~:_.:
untapped.
We struggle to rr::':e : :
boards on the side0:' :...:: : .
We track it thro'J~:-. :::. -
versa!, or flight.
We signal its force ::-.'. _
drifting, running in :<':'~e:
It can betraced iL C:. -=-.' -
built environments.
Or in the direct ccc::-' .
Or in theway th2.::__ .e: ::. _
Or you can find :: .__ . .:.--. :"_
thestressregistered ir. __ .::::: - _,
spring up likeblades::' ;:-'-:
dreamy surges.
The ordinary mOYe' .__ . -
faireattitudes with tl'.e.:.:: :"-.':,
raceand class. Or in :~.::__:.." ,
isgiveninthegame0:' ::::~:
choices now.
TheAmerican dreamc: :-:-. :
There areonly "WiLc.e:: ~ _
~~~=-_-...:.clear waste (of course
~r:- -=-:-~::l he invites the public
~. :'--:~::har has just made the
[ ~~::_~.-:.:een-wheeler. They go
: ~- :- ~;:eE IO the loud hum of
- _:.==_,--,iing lights.
It:~-_ ::: :-::,,-ersitting in the cab.
!!l.:- _ - -=-:~-:.:nand hehas several
: _: ~-:.:s high-level security
,:-:~::: ::-~E rhan aC clearance.
-.: ~:- ,:ning on the passen-
~_:-.:=-.~away from the ori-
:: .:;:n every fifteen min-
.[ _. :~:'--_::', He had never used
III ~-_: -"~:eajoke: "Yeahsure,
E -": :: -: : ~d turned out to be
pr -.~:=.:..-.::irsI time he logged
: c.' :.-acking him sent an
m :;::r _ ::::" \\nen hepunched
II - __ .::.-eceivedan alert that
I ::::.--.?aniedby asecond
I: ::::.--_.-erouted. So he shut
_ -:_ - _:.::.::I material onboard
::~::?le. Anybody could
11: : - ' . : : ' .Jr nuts. There were
-.. _.--_,--=-_:: on this stuff.
IIWJ I...-:---. ::10 system tracking
iI:"~.::' ;.'::=-.by his dispatcher.
. c.: no idea where he
'--'iappier ending her
-:=-_ :he DOE 'S claim to
The ordinary is a moving target. Not first something to make
sense of, but aset of sensations that incite.
The possibility that something will snap into sense or drift by
untapped.
We struggle to trace it with big stories thrown up like bill-
boards on the side of the road.
We track it through projects and lines of progress, failure, re-
versal, or flight.
We signal its force through dull routine and trouble, through
drifting, running in place, and downtime.
It can be traced in conditions like speedup and the banality of
built environments.
Or in the direct commodification of the senses.
Or in the way that the consumer is now the citizen.
Or you can find it in all the drugs, or the prison buildup, or
the stress registered in neck muscles, or in the little lifeworlds that
spring up like blades of grass around the body's compulsions and
dreamy surges.
The ordinary moves in the articulations of who cares /laissez-
faire attitudes with the apartheidesque hardenings of the lines of
race and class. Or in the harsh responsibilities that the individual
isgiven in the game of becoming awinner or aloser. The only two
choices now.
The American dream comes into asharp-edged focus.
There areonly winners and losers now.
Dream meets nightmare in the flick of an eye.
Haunted sensibilities track unwanted influences and veiled
threats in idioms of addiction, dead ends, and conspiracy, while
dreams of transcendence and recluse set afloat reckless hopes of
winning or escape.
Anxiety ranges without object. But so does the sense of poten-
tial.
We lurch between ups and downs as overwrought dreams flop
to earth, only to rise up again, inexplicably revitalized, like the
monster in a horror movie or the fool who keeps coming back for
more.
Lines of flight are fascinating too: the rocketing fortunes of the
rich and famous, the dream of a perfect getaway cottage, or the
modest success stories of people getting their lives together again.
Free-floating affects lodge in the surface tensions of low-level
stress, loneliness, dread, yearning, asense of innocence, backed up
anger, the ins and outs of love.
vacation to liven L::- ~
the busy work of c: =-~:-'---_ -"~
a starting point.
There's the dre",---:~~ :: :~~:_,:.J
Or the dream 0:' ~:':-:-::.-= ::!
The ordinary is a 2.::=:.=-;-:-::.""1
something to pop ''::=-
An experimem. S: =-=- :':::.: __=,=
sight.
Carrie is a selfs:-~.:,:.:
black hair belo\\~b::: ~,~.
not quite making "'=- ..:: =-=- :':-='- -
a free in-house per-'.=-=-=-;
from house-sit to ~.: _:':- -
friends.
She's both reeL",,,
ness with the precis:: =-.
she risked evernh:.:-.~ : =-.:
and stranded her tl-."'::': -
learned she had a :~",=-.: :.: =LJ
playing cards to bL~~=-.:'::-
dollars left over to C'~- , - ,-~ .
: : - ' - ~- - - -,.- - _...
Now she takes OL::c: :.:-: -
~ ~
casino on the borde:. -=-.-::: '--
the casino and imc", -=--:::: .. ~
the time isn't righr. ': - i..J
part of a James BO:1~=-=- -]
back to check the c.=.: __ ._=-=.:J
with the woman aT ,~.:': =- .~
bar, drifts by the mc.:- - - _'-__0
Some sink; others claim they can rise above the flow, walk on
water.
Some wear their irony like a badge.
There's pleasure in a clever or funny image, or in being able to
see right through things.
Or in holing up to watch your favorite bad TV show, or spin-
ning classes at the gym, or singing along to loud music in the
car.
Or the drugs of all kinds.
There's the grim pleasure of a meal at ashelter, or afree bus ride
because it's an ozone action day, or a whole box of donuts in the
dumpster, or aplace to sleep on a church floor because it's freezing
tonight. But these, of course, are not the same as a little sensory
-~_~':'~Qces and veiled
'--~. ~:onspiracy, while
:-::= : '--: recklesshopes of
vacation to liven up your day. More likeforced treading water-
the busywork of constantly repeating the unsupported searchfor
astarting point.
There'sthe dreamof checking out for good.
Or the dreamof getting something for nothing.
III: ~ =:-:C-::Jught dreams flop
iIII=::' __ ~:. . -::',i talized, like the
Ill", . ,:==="coming back for
The ordinary is adrifting immersion that watches and waits for
something to pop up.
An experiment. Something worth trying that's hiding in plain
sight.
Carrie is aself-styledwitch and gypsy. Four feet ten with jet-
black hair below her waist, shedoes clerical work at auniversity,
not quite making ends meet. To get out of paying rent, she runs
afreein-house pet-sitting servicefor traveling faculty. Shemoves
from house-sit to house-sit. In the down times she stays with
friends.
She's both reckless and hyperorganized. She runs her busi-
nesswith the precision of acorporate middle manager, but once
she risked everything on a love affair that took her to Australia
and stranded her there when things went badly. In Australia, she
learned shehad atalent for gambling. Shemade enough money
playing cards to buy her ticket home and have a few thousand
dollars left over to get situated back in the states.
Now shetakesquick trips toNevada, stopping at thefirstcheap
casino on the border. There arealwaysstories ... Shewalks into
the casino and immediately spots a machine with an aura. But
the time isn't right, so she waits it out. She checks in, watches
part of aJames Bond movie on TV in her room, and then goes
back to check the machine. The time is almost right. She chats
with thewoman at the next machine, listens to the band in the
bar, drifts by the machine again, watches another TV show, and
--, .: =..::::ingfortunes of the
... ~=:-'.."Q:' cottage, or the
F:L':: :.::=.::i-,estogether again.
II: __ :-".:.:=:::Dsionsof low-level
Ijll : :.. -.:lOcence,backed up
. -:=:,;.d TV show, or spin-
~ :_':::J loud music in the
1IIIl:::~L - .:. ' __.=::er,or afreebus ride
____ :.=box of donuts in the
L-::I~: :-. =- :Jr becauseit'sfreezing
~] .. - ='-'-''TIe asalittle sensory
finally returns to the machine. It's after midnight. Shesitsdown
at themachine and concentrates. Thewoman at thenext machine
(who isstill there) stands behind her to cheer her on. Sheplaysa
couple of dollar slotsand hits thejackpot. Shegivestheneighbor
acut becauseshefiguresher cheering helped and it'sgood karma
anyway. Later that night, shereturns to the samemachine and it
paysoff again.
Carrie saysit'shard to explainhowsheknowswhen amachine
isright; it'sjust afeeling. Some machines arejust for fun, some
areserious, but they all hold some promise of apayoff. Her tal-
ent for spotting the promise in amachine lends substance to the
dreamof beating theodds, and it turns thevaguebut compelling
hope of "coming out awinner" into thesensory practice of keep-
ingher eyeson the prizethrough the din and the Bashinglights.
Her gambling isnot just the residueor symptom of distantly de-
termining forces but an actual instance of affectiveand material
emergence-a singularity that literally catches her attention and
holds it longenough for her to do something with it.
There'stheston', fc~.=-.
who thwacked off r":' :
every time hewas si.:~::: . ::'...i:
finger left and could=-. ~.. :
snake" outside Aus,:=-.
ingheslipped on abc....-'--..c -::1
tally shot himself i~~.-. ~ :: ..
wasdrinking hard. T.-.",:~:
cowboy who injures :-'--".:' -
losesatoeor cu,s a,. -'-~~~ - ..
just puts onhisboo~c....-.::. .::.:""
Bythe time he geLS~: -""::1
blood ispouring oc:~'.'~'::' .
Thesestories ,ak", ~.-. ~_.c
at work to an end ::: .=-.:.
awaywith things. ==-- :..- ~- ..
of agency and trieL .--.::.
parts become aClL~.::.:'_ -= ::.J I
modest cashpa:"me,.~' .=-c ~ " -
They say La\yre:-:.:~
capital of the s,a~e.-_'- .
grandmother who '.'..:.':
in adeliberate hec.:'-: =-. -". ", :::1
driverswerechar:;e:' .
andthen steer ,her:::~: :..-:
thepersonal injuf': ~"'?. ~
Theeffort to ge~.:' .:.:.'
dent, especially\,-r.C'" ? ~: ~
One day,when she'slivinginatrailer park inLasVegas,shemeets
ayoung man in the community hot tub. He's just moved from
the Midwest. He can stay herewith family for alittlewhile, but
he's already found ajob humping tires for minimum wage. He
showsher amissing finger lost at work the first week on thejob.
Hetalksabout it asif it werelikelosingafingernail or something.
Something to beexpected fromayoung man'swork.
Thisreminds her of storiesabout peoplewho injurethemselves
for cash. Stories that turn aroutine desperation into an odd mo-
ment fueledbyacharacter, Storiesthat addaweirdformof agency
or life(or something) to the hard coreof desperation, adding up
to something likedesperation plus.
Therearebodies O'..:~.- .:
Thereareplenr: ..:~. ~~:..
.:-. ::"2 5 Vegas,shemeets
- :-:.c:,just moved from
.. ~'::, r alittlewhile, but
-. ~::-::-.inimumwage. He
-- " '=~,tweek on thejob.
'=:-;c:rnailor something.
iii" _.::'.~ .-".-'.:-.', work.
- .:-:0 injurethemselves
1II':r _ .. ::'''::'-'.::':In into anodd mo-
. ::'::' -'.":eirdformof agency
::'==,?eration, adding up
There'sthestory, for instance, of theoldminer inWestVirginia
who thwacked off his own fingers for workman's compensation
every time hewas sick or needed money until he only had one
finger left and couldn't work at all anymore. Or there's the "lake
snake" outside Austin who collected insurance money by claim-
ingheslipped onabanana inthesupermarket. Later, heacciden-
tally shot himself in the leg, becoming completely disabled. He
wasdrinking hard. There'sastory genreincowboypoetry about a
cowboy who injures himself in anaccident out on the range. He
losesatoeor cuts anartery inhisleg.There'slotsof blood, but he
just puts onhisboot anddriveshimself alongdistanceinto town.
Bythe time he gets to the hospital he'sbarely conscious and the
blood ispouring out of thetop of hisboot.
Thesestories takethe trajectory of expected or accepted injury
at work to an end point outside ordinary rationales. They run
awaywith things. In them, anything's possible and weird forms
of agency and tricky moves become real in twisted bodies. Body
parts become actual commodities that can be converted into
modest cashpayments inapinch.
They say Lawrence, Massachusetts, is the insurance fraud
capital of the state. An insurance fraud was uncovered when a
grandmother who wassitting in the back seat of acar waskilled
in adeliberate head-on high-speed crashwith another car. Both
driverswerecharged with fraud. Runners would find the drivers
and then steer themtothelawyersanddoctors whowould fill out
thepersonal injury reports for acut.
The effort to get by can quickly become aself-defeating acci-
dent, especiallywhen people arepushing it (but not only then).
_-C' ::-::- .. .:..:-.:;ht.Shesits down
...... -'.:-.3., thenext machine
r- ==~ier on. Sheplaysa
. ~:-.C giYestheneighbor
e:rr .. C r==,,--,-'1d it'sgood karma
H ."'""'. . -.-. ='-'.rnemachine and it
,_...- .',':' when amachine
m~". - ~=J USt for fun, some
lit ~ =.::,'apayoff. Her tal-
. IL., __ .==" .=:-.2 ,substance to the
"""" .:..;uebut compelling
lB" . ,::.-.:. rc: practiceof keep-
~'II: .:..:-~.2 ::,heflashinglights.
1tI;: '~.:-::'J m of distantly de-
.::,.c.: ::,. ,,--,-"::-'cctiye and material
1 :::.--'. .c-r.-.=' her attention and
III . :-.: ,,'.ithit.
Therearebodies out of place.
Thereareplenty of people infreefall.
TherearepeoplewhoseAmerican dreaming isliterallyadream-
ingcut off fromanyactual potential. But that doesn't stopit-far
fromit.
This situation isn't exactly functional but it's not necessarily
"bad" either. Though it canbe.
Shehears aston- o~'~~
barely twenty, haH' :C":.- - '~~c:
try to get work be ~:-:'
driver's license or ~~=.:-=-
down, their tweke:': ..~
.
all day at the food ~-=:-~-_ ~ -- _'_
that onedaythe,d! ~:
thing and shoot tt.e~.=:- ~. >::
alwaystalkingaboL~: - : ' . c . . : : " . - = - '~~i:
cially if they eyer r~:-.I'-=-
worldwascoming C~ ' : : - : ' ,. ~: _ r~
would, and it'sasit'::. :='::.'
streets and into the :.:-:I, : :":' '
kind of real ending~:.: ':
Bur these tvm', ":.I'.:: ~. d
easydesperateplar: ~: ..:': .
andtriedtorobacC.::I'.: - .: '::1
caught thembefore~'.: ::' . - ::
She remembers a night in West Virginia. A group of striking
miners sitswaiting to seethe doctor in the poor people's health
clinic. Their bodies arehuddled together, their eyesarefocused
on the dark looming hills outside, they talk in aslow, intimate
rhythm of story and ruminative pause. It'stheend of alongcon
tract strikeand it'ssuddenly clear that thestrikewill fail spectacu-
larly. Everyone is saying that the union is dead, that the mines
areclosing down for good this time, that the miners havebeen
reduced to "company sucks." Youcanfeel themantra of stunned
defeat settleon theroom. Heavy talk giveswayto evenweightier
pauses filledonly with theshallow, suffocating breathing of men
with blacklung disease.
ThenJ ohnny Cadlestarts in on anelaboratefantasy. Someday
they will scalethebigbrick wallsof Governor Rockefeller'sman-
sionandloot it for all it'sworth. Theothers drawtheir focustothe
story. Power growspalpablein theimageof high brick wallsthat
canbebreachedbyapotent, collective, working-classmasculinity,
and then broken up, asif tactile, and dispersedlikeloot.
Thestory lurches up and passesin an odd moment. It works
not asarepresentation of areal possibility or amodel for action,
but instead asaliveevent-a fleetingconduit between the lived
and the potential hidden in it (or hidden from it). Potentiality
resonates in its scene. It's an experiment compelled by the drag
of affect in the room, and when it'sover the men just sit calmly
together, asif something hashappened.
no money, noparo.e, .:-.:' :-,'-'
their heads. That's.:::,:-,.
WHEATON, ILL. -.~_ .-:-
prison for killing ~.:' :::: ': ." _
"It: :..-'::~--:._.~.~ isliterallyadream-
r.:;:L ~_ ~~-.-'.~doesn't stop it-far
_ .-\ group of striking
i::' . ~-.:: ?oor people's health
;:l[.:':::~_~::~~~.cireyesare focused
Ie. .':0 ~-=-~~in aslow, intimate
'. ~.-_:: end of along con-
. ~'.:::~~:kewill fail spectacu-
- . ::'::ad,that the mines
i!n: .. .:.~.:.ie miners havebeen
[ _.~~ :-:::: . .:..,,-e mantra of stunned
;-::; .~.a:' to evenweightier
lllii -=. ':'':'~:I1 gbreathing of men
She hears astory of abotched robbery. Two young street guys,
barely twenty, havebeen on their own now for some time. They
try to get work but they have no car, no ID. They try to get a
driver's license or food stamps, but their borrowed car breaks
down, their twelvedollars getsstolen, and they can't stand to sit
all day at the food stamp officegetting jerked around. They brag
that onedaythey'll goout inablaze.They'll robabank or some-
thing and shoot the rich people. Theolder guyson the street are
alwaystalking about making their bigexit inaviolent flash, espe-
cially if they ever found out they had cancer or the end of the
world wascoming or something. Theysaythey'ddo it, they really
would, and it'sasif aflashof agencywould catapult themoff the
streets and into the limelight. Or at least it would provide some
kind of real ending to alife. Or something.
But these two young guys actually tried to bring their little
easy-desperateplan to life. One day they just walked up the road
andtriedtorobaconveniencestorewith abaseball bat. Thepolice
caught thembeforethey got fiveblocksaway.Theywent tojail-
no money, noparole. Theygot twenty-fiveyears.Theothers shake
their heads. That'sstupid. ThisisTexas.
II! _ : :0.':':.' ~.:.atefantasy. Someday
. : : ' : ' = - . 0[ Rockefeller'sman-
~..::~;iraw their focustothe
~ .. ::;:: ~~. high brick wallsthat
iIl:::::: .:.',;ing-class masculinity,
41-':: ::.... -::.:.sed likeloot.
E:: . ~. ~.jdmoment. It works
- ....--or amodel for action,
r:-,.:: .:..=-.::. uit between the lived
, .::.::::=-. Irom it). Potentiality
- .=-.~::J mpelled by the drag
::~~ie men just sit calmly
LifeSentence IsImposed in 3 Kidnapping Killings
WHEATON, IL L .-Ajury on Monday sentenced a man to life in
prison for killing his pregnant exgirlfriend and two of her children,
and kidnapping hisnearlyfull-termsonfromher womb. Theman,
LavernWard, 2 6, denied takingpart in thekillings. Mr. Ward had
been found guiltyof the1995 slayingsof DebraEvans, 2 6, and her
daughter, Samantha, 10, and her son, J oshua, 7. Hewas alsocon-
victedof kidnapping thebaby,who survivedand isbeingcaredfor
byMs. Evans'sfather.
She offered to gin'
towait with the:w.. "':-,;~~ :. ... c. _;':
in their bus tickets. -=-:-. ~:-
They soon found he-: :.: - -"
As it turned out. th:o -, ::l
for child abduetioL
These are not t~,-=
dream. Stories like t:-. - ,
The story takes her back to avisit with friends in the country.
Fivewomen in a kitchen are trying to piece together the details
of the murders. A man and his new girlfriend cut the baby right
out of his ex-girlfriend's belly! What in the world! Then the new
girlfriend took the baby home like it was her own, like no one
would notice! The women arepuzzling this over. Maybe shejust
wanted ababy, or not ababy, exactly, but the little fame of instant
motherhood.
Shethinks it must have been likeaweirdly literal surge to have
a picture-perfect life. It's as if, in the act of turning image into
matter, things got out of hand.
The women imagine it must have been like being in a dream
you can't wake up from, but it's not real.
Then the weird murder story prompts the memory of another
story about the guy down the road who stole from his father so
his father sent him to the pen. When he got out, he killed his
father and chopped him up in twenty-some pieces. He raped his
stepmother and took her and the car. Shegot away fromhim and
called the police.
Thewomen talk about drugs and demons. They saynothing in
this world would make any of them do athing like that.
Later, there's another story in the paper about a toddler kid-
napped from agreyhound bus station in Chicago on Christmas
Eve. The kidnapper had told her boyfriend in prison that shehad
had his baby. Sowhen hewas getting out she had to make good
on her claim. Shehung out at the bus station. Shestruck up acon-
versation with ayoung woman traveling with two small children.
Stories are leakin~
night to prevent e:c,?::'~= .- " _
shelves on the o\'e:-,: Z. ' : . : _~
when an electron:c ::-.:: .::. .. '
ankle. There vvaslee ~'..:..'~Z= -
workers had been t, .:::: : .. ~ .J
for any reason mhe-: :__ .~-. _ ",.
get therewhile), 1r.:? ~.::.: : _ _ ,
dog in the street:'
In other lock-ir.o :.
stocker in Savanr:.i-,.=-~:
,
icscouldn'tgetin: :-':-._:~.:'::'':: .. II
and women ha\'~.=-, - - ~ -, .J .:!
'- ::- - - - ~~~-
Some workers reci.: ~.:'.'~:::=-
could not physical> .::~:.::= ,_
if the fire alarm ve:~. : : ~. z: : : :
chained shut.
Wal-Mart officii.o ;:. -- ,
thirty-five hundrec '::~: ~
not something \,\'al- '. :.:-: -
that much.
Wal-Mart proh:~::c .::_:
Sheofferedto givethemaridehome to Milwaukee. Sheoffered
towait with theyounger daughter whilethewoman went to cash
intheir bus tickets. Then shetook off running with thelittlegirl.
They soon found her at homewith thelittle girl inanother state.
Asit turned out, thiswasnot thefirst timeshehad been arrested
for child abduction.
These are not the only stories of people lurching toward a
dream. Storieslikethis pop up all over theplace.
- - ~.~killings.Mr. Wardhad
~F:~c ' ='~braEvans,2 6, andher
' . -. ..".3.. 7. Hewasalsocon-
-~:i andisbeingcaredfor
""0 ~_-. ~:-:endsinthe country.
':lIT'': ~~':::.: together the details
Ie" ;- -.~~.o:ndcut the baby right
... -. ::':-.0: world! Then the new
. --c.s :"1erown, like no one
"'--.~.~-:"-.:' over. Maybe shejust
~_~~.-.elittlefameof instant
!il'.':: ':::='.~::-,S. Theysaynothing in
? " _ . .:: ~::-jnglikethat.
--: .::'::::-o:r about atoddler kid-
; ; ; : c : - . : : - . Chicago on Christmas
;'" -':~o:::-.:' inprison that shehad
=-~: ..:.~ shehad to make good
;' _ :~c. ~:Dn.Shestruck upacon-
.,..' :..::-;:"'i rhtwo small children.
Stories are leaking out about Wal-Mart locking in workers at
night toprevent employeetheft. Michael Rodriquez wasstocking
shelvesontheovernight shift at theSam'sClub inCorpus Christi
when an electronic cart driven byanother employeesmashed his
ankle. Therewas no manager with akey to let him out, and the
workershadbeentoldthey would befiredif they usedthefireexit
for any reasonother than afire. It took anhour for amanager to
get therewhileMr. Rodriquez hopped around yelling, "likeahurt
doginthestreet."
Inother lock-ins, aworker inIndiana sufferedaheart attack; a
stocker inSavannah, Georgia, collapsedand diedwhen paramed-
icscouldn't get in; ahurricane inFlorida nearly destroyed astore;
and women havegone into labor in stores all over the country.
Someworkers recall management telling themthat thefiredoors
could not physicallybeopened, but theywould open, likemagic,
if the firealarmweretriggered. Some recall firedoors that were
chained shut.
Wal-Mart officialssaythey areaverylargecompany with over
thirty-five hundred stores. They saylocking people iniscertainly
not something Wal-Mart condones. It'snot policy, they cantell us
that much.
Wal-Mart prohibits paid overtime work. So night-shift em-
k ~.:- :,>,-literalsurgetohave
.::~==, f turning image into
IT - ~~' .::r:.e memory of another
;;., L -.: '~olefromhis father so
1 ;", -'. :- .. -.0: got out, he killed his
~:::~ -.: ~==epieces. He raped his
':'_' ~'-.0: ~ot awayfromhimand
ployees clock out at the fortieth hour on the fifth night of the
week, usually around I AM.Then they sit around napping, playing
cards, or watching television until amanager arrives at 6AMto let
them out.
Seven prisoners C'CC:::" ~", ,
find the escape l:C.lC:~,:- c '::,3
the surveillance cae e:-.:., '
prisoners then rob 0:::0:':': . '.a
Lodge under aSSUIT.C':' :-C:.-' ,
man's sporting goo~, ::::'c
local police officer. -=-:.. " . C -~,c
offered. Stories circ'..:.:c:c"~'. -,
run from the la\\', c: . ~,
who evaded the Tey:, :: ,"C'
-~-- ~-_ .. ~.-
over the state. AI C:-oC::: ' .... ::j
Oklahoma, bur pec,::.~:~' c,"
Texas state policec~~'" ,.: '.:::
Some say the Te:,:""- . __: ,'.
prison guards duriClz C, ', ::. c: .c":
They love their \\i-,~, ~':' '..I
and cop killers. PL':::.C 2
th
' l'
eyreeven caugm, :: ::~':'
the effects of the pc:'
in the prisons.
The owner of an :C,"
Wanted and thinks ::'c :-::':~.'_
one of his trailers. B..:.:: .',"
in. He's not sure if" ~..
with his wife.
Meanwhile, one
leaving the trailer L O Z: :::
church. He's the one~...:: :.:..' .::
park decides to turn C..":-: '
Whirl-Marters aretheculture jammers of shopping. Likehoaxing,
hacking, and billboard banditry, whirl-marting is an immanent
critique that immerses itself inmedia machines and built environ-
ments to leavesome kind of mark that givespause, or to stick to a
slippery surface where critiques launched from afull-blown order
of right and wrong, true and false, might just slide off.
Whirl-Marters go on nonshopping sprees. They push empty
carts around the store in a procession, wearing identical Whirl-
Mart T-shirts. Surveillance cameras in the ceiling watch their
strange progress through the store. But Whirl-Marters make their
own videos of getting thrown out or of store managers screaming
at them: "If you're gonna spend somuch time in here, pick up an
application!!" "The customers like our store!" "Number one, man,
on the fortune fivehundred. WE'RENUMBERONE!"
Once some Whirl- Marters alerted the media that they were
going to bring a live chicken into a store to barter for an item
of clothing made in a third world sweatshop. Police and man-
agers formed a human wall to block the chicken's entrance. So
the Whirlers got in their cars and drove around the parking lot
playing an antiWal-Mart polka cranked up high on their stereos.
Then they put thewhole scene up on the Web.
;~_~~~_e fifth night of the
m~ - .:.-: =-.:-ndnapping, playing
iI._ -~e: arrivesat 6AM to let
or _;'_-=?ping. Likehoaxing,
j, - - ..-:__a:-~ingis an immanent
E:~-. - =_-__ ,_esandbuilt environ-
II - ::_-e'Dause,or to stick to a
- ~
Iw..~_ ::. ~:-=,mafull-blown order
IIlI: - - - ~~S( slideoff.
~~-;= :-ees.They push empty
_~: -ineridentical Whirl-
--- --- b
II!IE'-. - ~_ -_ " ceiling watch their
lIE- :: _ --~ :rl-:\1artersmaketheir
Ill[ -; - ~= :-emanagers screamlllg
!!II, ; - _ :-:_ ~.=:1e inhere, pick up an
~ ,_--;:-e:"" "Number one, man,
l'L, -__ :=:::RONE!"
1Ii!t: : : : - " : . ~_-e=nediathat they were
iI!J IJ J nJ ~;:-" ~obarter for an item
IIir :. e,:,-~'hop. Police and man-
:::r ~-_echicken's entrance. SO
IB, . =;;e .i.:-oundthe parking lot
!~_---,;::' -~"J high on their stereos.
&[.- - -.-_e \~\eb.
Seven prisoners escape from a south Texas prison. The police
find the escape truck in a nearby Wal-Mart parking lot, where
the surveillance cameras havecaptured the escapeeson film. The
prisoners then rob aRadio Shack, and they check into an Econo
Lodgeunder assumednames. On Christmas Evethey robanOsh-
man's sporting goods store, steal acache of weapons, and kill a
local policeofficer.They remain at largefor amonth. A reward is
offered. Storiescirculate. They'relikeoutlaws inthemoviesonthe
run fromthe law. Or likethe banditos ofTex-Mex conido fame
who evadedtheTexasRangers on horseback andwerespotted all
over thestate. At onepoint therearesnowstorms inArkansas and
Oklahoma, but people can't buy chains for their tiresbecausethe
Texasstatepolicecamethrough and bought themall.
SomesaytheTexas7 areniceguys. They didn't kill any of the
prison guards during their escape. They'refriends, human beings.
They lovetheir wives. The police say they're hardened criminals
and cop killers. Prosecutors ask for the death penalty before
they'reevencaught. Sothen there's talk of the death penalty and
the effectsof the prison buildup, the unbelievable overcrowding
intheprisons.
The owner of an RV park in Colorado watches America's Most
"Wanted and thinks herecognizestheTexas7asthe men livingin
oneof histrailers. But heisn't sure. At first, hedoesn't turn them
in. He's not sureit's his place to do so anyway. He talks it over
with hiswife.
Meanwhile, one of the men joins a local church and starts
leavingthetrailer to gotoservices. Peopleseehimseveral times at
church. He'stheonetheycandefinitely identify. Theowner of the
park decidesto turn themin.
They stayed together (amistake) because they were friends and
because they had to get IDS and jobs before they could split up.
When the police arrive, they find three of the men in aJ eep
Cherokee parked outside the trailer. Two more men are inside;
one surrenders peacefully but the other commits suicide with a
pistol. They discover the last two acouple of days later, hiding out
in anearby Holiday Inn. Before they're arrested, they make some
liveradio broadcasts denouncing the state's justice system, adding
at the end that "the systemisascorrupt asweare."
Details continue to circulate about the livesof these men, espe-
ciallythe "ringleader," George Rivas. He's very intelligent. Born in
EI Paso, raised by his grandparents after the divorce of hisparents,
he dreamed of being apolice officer. But he didn't participate in
high school activities. He named his dogs Ruger and Baretta, after
guns. A year after graduating from high school he committed his
first robbery and burglary, for which hewas sentenced to ten years
of probation. He enrolled as ageneral studies major at the Uni-
versity of Texas at EI Paso, but two years later he started astring
of robberies: a Radio Shack, an Oshman's sporting goods store,
a Toys 'R Us. In prison he made trustee status and worked in
the prison's maintenance department, one of the best duty assign-
ments. He became disillusioned (hehad been sentenced to lifein
prison). He spent his nights confined to an austere eight-by-eight
foot cell equipped with only abunk, awash basin, and atoilet ...
hewas sick of the lousy food ... hewas tired of hearing the metal
doors slideshut when he returned to his cell at lockdown.
When he's captured, his own words areabout justice and rage.
He's very articulate.
world. Publicly cir.::..:_.:. - - ;-_
neously snap into F:':''::~_ ~-
Public specters - ,-.
lined up on the talk ,~_ _ -=J
monstrous act. Or :~~~~:.... - -,
on intimate dramas :~-
right out of the can. -~~~.=
gallon-sized lids of :-=--::-_: .::~-
carpet. Then the cC.n~=~.:. .= :...-
ents, and even the >=_ = ~:..._
cheeks and chins L.::::- ': = , _ _ '.
Trauma TV mo===
Vicious spectacles c,=-~-=--=
thirty-second theE~=_:_.: _-~
tense encounter \';~:i_.
wereach the satura::~:-. =_=. 2 J
One day there ~, -=--=_ :.::'
talk show. The tea=s=..:=::.
in 1976. His old b::.~--=--
old daughter alone. -~:' __~_. -,
daughter, who ispla~-:::-.;. - =-::
acan of kerosene ::-:.:.:.:.:-=c-c:.
His story launches ::-_c: __ .
car in the drive\\-c.',-.-.O_::.~_ - =1;
has been revoked =c,.=e:..-
just puts the bab,- i=:.= ~.:.:..= _ ~I;
town, the traffic's b-=--.::~::::. _,= :.=;
red light. He's screc.=_~; ~ : 1
kerosene! I'vegot to ;::-:.-.:~- -=
and someone hits h:=:.= __-.:..=::. _c,e:.
get there, they take :i_::- .= .:..=
aging to screamab0;':': : ~
her. They take him 0=::
they get the little gi=:::
Public and private spheres are drawn into a tight circuit, giving
the ordinary the fantasy quality of aprivate lifewrit large on the
,_ ::~-_:::',- werefriends and
IIDI:' - C- . ~:: ~.-.:Tcouldsplit up.
:~-,he men in aJ eep
~~:'Ie men are inside;
:- :: ~-~its suicidewith a
_- :::: .::..::.~-s later, hiding out
" .:.:~::;~::::.. [heymakesome
,:,'~icesystem, adding
world. Publiclycirculating styles, sensibilities, andaffectssimulta-
neously snap into placeinhearts all over the country.
Public specters have grown intimate. There areall the bodies
lined upon thetalk shows, outing their lovedonesfor thisor that
monstrous act. Or therealityTV showswherethecamerabusts in
on intimate dramas of whole families addicted to sniffing paint
right out of thecan. Wezoomintolinger, almost lovingly, onthe
gallon-sizedlidsof paint cansscattered around onthelivingroom
carpet. Then thecamerapans out to focusonthefacesof thepar-
ents, and eventhe littlekids, with rings of white paint encircling
cheeksand chins likesomekind of self-inflicted stigmata.
Trauma TV morphs into split, schizophrenic trajectories.
Vicious spectacles of pain and dysfunction are followed by the
thirty-second therapeutic sound-bite. We dive back into an in-
tenseencounter with something, no matter how fabricated. Then
wereachthesaturation point and stopwatching.
One day there isan old man in awheelchair on an afternoon
talk show.Thetearsrun down hisfaceashetellsthestory of aday
in 1976. His old lady has left him and he's raising his two-year-
old daughter alone. When hegets up to go to the bathroom, his
daughter, who isplayingon theporch, goesover and drinks from
acan of kerosene that aneighbor had left for himthat morning.
His story launches into graphic details: he has a broken-down
car in the driveway, with no plates on it, and his driver's license
has been revoked for drunk driving. But it's an emergency sohe
just puts thebaby inthe car and takesoff flying. When hegetsto
town, thetraffic'sbacked upandpeoplewon't let himthrough the
redlight. He'sscreaming: "I'vegot ababy inhereand she'sdrunk
kerosene! I'vegot to get her to thehospital!" Heruns theredlight
and someone hits himhard and breakshisneck. When thepolice
get there, they takethebabyto thehospital becausehe'sstill man-
agingtoscreamabout thekerosene, but theydon't let himgowith
her. They takehimoff to jail for driving without alicense. When
they get thelittlegirl to thehospital, they seethat shehasscrapes
.T--- -- ---:::.::.re.
h!1 :::' :):- [hesemen, espe-
:::- imelligent. Bornin
1 Ii.r --:: .::.:--mce of hisparents,
11::::- := .. '-:: :'idn't participate in
_ :::.:.::::,andBaretta, after
l1li) :. _ : : hecommitted his
iiL:r _ :::=-_ Lencedtotenyears
J Uc:-'- - ..=--:::' major at the Uni-
111"1: ~:::=- ie started astring
:-:: ::ring goods store,
II: --~.::.~-.:.sand worked in
De1 ' : : ~=-_ ::: best duty assign-
1J lm:: ::.: :'::::=-- '::ntenced to lifein
rim:_.. - .:.:.'~::reeight-by-eight
.,. ~. =- -,-,in.andatoilet ...
lht '.", _ -':::. ::- hearing themetal
II ~:: _ _.::.~ lockdown.
111'11 ' ,: : -.:.rjusticeand rage.
-.: .: ~ightcircuit, giving
III!iF -, ~:: .::~ writ largeon the
on her knees fromplaying on the cement porch, and they decide
to takeher awayfromhim. Thelast timeheseesher isonJ uly 6th
in thewelfareofficeby the elevators. She'scrying frantically. He
tellsher, "Don't cry,poodle doggie, daddy'sgonna comeback and
get you some day."And that's the last day heseesher. He's been
looking for her ever since.
On the talk show, father and daughter arereunited. They hug
and kiss.Then helooks at hisdaughter, hismouth trembling and
the tears pouring down hisface, and says, "I wanted you, poodle
dog, I wanted to keep you, I always wantedyou, honey!"
The nightmarish realities on display in the scene of public
viewing are unthinkable, ridiculous, and ritually replayed with
only slight variations. It's not likethe scenes aresupposed to be
idealsor warning signs. Theycapture ahaunted potential. Things
go off on trajectories. They'repushing something. "Pushing the
envelope" isalight, popular phrase but it might not capture the
stateof things.
One day Sissy'shcF:'"-:-_ ~ ~__
smart guy who tolc ~__~- -- _ -=
thing about hO\\ l+e ~:::
haveto print up a"-~_:.:
Budthinks that meC.~_' ~-c - - -:
Sissythinks the gu:.-' ~c...":'-". ,~,
"Butwho cares?~h- ~__.-:
They say thevalue =~~_~
Peoplesaythey're,i:: .-:: ~ - _
of 60 Minutes on -
tel and jewelers c;:.r.'~~:' _ --: .:
diamonds, anywa,-,_- _ ~-- --'
I could bank on m'.- _
Theordinary canturn onyou.
Lodged inhabits, conceits, and thelovingand deadly contacts
of everyday sociality, it can catch you up in something bad. Or
good.
Or it can start out asone thing and then flipinto something
elsealtogether.
One thing leads to another. An expectation is dashed or ful-
filled. An ordinary floating state of things goessour or takes off
into something amazing and good. Either way, things turn out to
benot what you thought they were.
Racismcan bealiy:: ~:_-_:c -
candreams of racia.:_:~:.-
Peopleof color of:::~_::---
market. Theystrike..:? .-:- _
A tension seemsto:.-e:::"-::, _ -
provides anopenin:: .-~_ ~
Other times, the- ~:~- _ _
taurants or at swim,,-:._.-_~ .-
who it will be. SorH:_~-.:
it. It'sademandin.:.? e>
you'redoing?" or "\':-~_:.:.-
public likethis." It c.,,-_ c.:::
- _:~~_,and they decide
=::' :eer is on J uly 6th
::--_=-_frantically. He
::: ~_=-_a come back and
':: '::=s her. He's been
...:::~::--..:.nited. They hug
-- : ~:h trembling and
._.':ired you, poodle
~ , "
, noney.
, :,-_=scene of public
. ~: :-~~h- replayed with
c -::. :c.:e supposed to be
.: ::::. potential. Things
. "P h' h
-:--_:::,-::ng, us mg t e
, -:- __~:--_r not capture the
One day Sissy's husband, Bud, came home talking about a real
smart guy who told him that the economy is going bust. Some-
thing about how the price of gold would go way up and they'd
have to print up a whole different kind of money-red money .
Bud thinks that means that the color of the money will be red, but
Sissy thinks the guy's talking about communist money somehow.
"But who cares? My money isn't worth anything anyway," she says.
They say the value of gold is all imaginary-and diamonds too.
People say they're the best investment, but she just saw an episode
of 60Minutes on how the diamond mines are controlled by acar-
tel and jewelers can't tell the difference between zirconium and
diamonds, anyway. "J ust my luck," she thinks. "I always thought
I could bank on my wedding rings,"
lIB : ::':':_In is dashed or ful-
. ;:: =s sour or takes off
-
Ii :c.'.-, rhings turn out to
ID~:
Racism can be a live texture in the composition of a subject. So
can dreams of racial utopia.
People of color often smile at her and her daughter in the super-
market. They strike up conversations. They say the baby is so cute.
A tension seems to release, as if awhite woman with abrown baby
provides an opening for public encounter.
Other times, they get vicious stares from white people in res-
taurants or at swimming pools. You can't tell by looking at people
who it will be. Sometimes it's young, hip-looking women who do
it. It's ademanding, persistent stare that says, "What do you think
you're doing?" or "Who do you think you are, parading around in
public like this." It amazes her. She get tense, enraged. She stares
I:; :c.Eddeadly contacts
~ _ _ ::_ something bad. Or
II: '-.' :::- :=jp into something
them down. "Who are these people?" "Who do they think they
are?"
She wonders what they've been reading and what church they
go to or what it is, exactly, that animates them and this trouble.
ture because the- _
final boarding caL :)~__- : __
their cell phones :O.~_::. ~ - -- . .
ing video games.
Thursday nigh~
which isattendee.. :~;::-
are evident in fee.:~~_ ~. .1
talism, sex eduG~:_::-_
sexuality throug!:1 ~:-_:
duced ludicrous
sense. Christians
computer might ,:..,;:~:-
the story of Peter :0.::-_::' ~.:
species. A person -'-_~__ . ::---:~
son with AIDScar.::-_::: :. -:
want to ban ton ~:-_-'-: : :. -=,
shouting match '."-: ~~--
to control us. The :?' _-=- -=- :~L '
accounts. Thev're :.:....-=-.::- ::.
. -
new fiber and the ~::~- -:---
pay your taxes bee-,-.': ~.::..-
The Calvary Chapel church emerged during the J esus movement
of the I970s. It drew converts through Christian rock festivals,
go-go clubs, love-ins, coffeehouses, surfer clubs, baptisms in the
ocean, and hotlines for kids on bad trips, including athirty-second
cure for heroine addiction. Now it's morphed into ahuge network
of suburban evangelical megachurches that mix hyperconserva-
tive apocalypticism with a hip style-or, rather, a multicultural
mall style.
The church hosts weekly meetings of the Working Women's
J oyful Life Bible Study, Proverbs Class for Men, High School
Mothers' Prayer Meeting, New Spirit Alcohol and Drug Recovery,
Singles' Group, Prison Fellowship, and the Physically Disabled
Fellowship. Its bookstores offer books on the end-times symptoms
of liberal humanism and Christian self-help books. The world is
in asteady moral decline. Kids who spend all their time on com-
puter games no longer play kick-the-can and hide-and-seek. The
storytellers are no longer the parents and teachers; instead, the
huge media conglomerates have taken on the role. But the pastor
offers practical tips on how to be aChristian in the end times: try
talking to non-Christians at holiday parties, do lunch with aco-
worker or invite neighbors for dinner, invite non-Christian men
to watch the game with you, make contacts when you're working
out or at kids' events, contact people you used to know ("Though
some, it's better not to look 'em up, know what I'm sayin'?").
Wednesday is movie night at the church. Christian horror
movies show scenes of teenagers who miss the plane to the rap-
Anyone can fine. ~-_:~;:: :c_!:'J
, -
later, everyone de:, ;:.- :-:.:._._,
yourself participa~:::-_~__-.:: c::J
She takes up B- c:. ..
them, it's ajoke.
something to a he:: ::~__ :-:
effort.
Body for Life i, -'-_ _ : -. -,
before-and-after Fi:~_~:
ture because they are too distracted by aWalkman to hear the
final boarding call. Businessmenmisstheflight becausethey'reon
their cell phones and portable computers doing business or play-
ingvideo games.
Thursday night is the Christian Prophecy Update Meeting,
which isattended, it seems, bythechurch'sextremists. Evil forces
are evident in federal gun control, unisex bibles, environmen-
talism, sex education in the schools, and the spread of homo-
sexuality through the media. Falseknowledge systemshavepro-
ducedludicrous claimsposingasmainstreamvaluesandcommon
sense. Christians haveto learnto readbetween thelines. A man's
computer might suggest that he call his wife his "spouse," and
the story of Peter and theWolf issuddenly about an endangered
species. A person with measlescan bequarantined, while aper-
sonwithAIDS cannot evenbelegallyidentified. Gun-control nuts
want to ban toys that evenresembleguns. It's acrimeto havea
shouting match withyour wife.Thewar ondrugsisjust anexcuse
to control us. TheIRS suddenly has the right to accessour bank
accounts. They'rebuilding up the backbone of the Internet with
newfiber and thegovernment can't control it. But don't bother to
payyour taxesbecausetheLordiscoming soon.
~; ~.:. ,. hat church they
Iiim._ .= . - ~=-=-. :endthistrouble.
F:: -.. --; ~--.;:' J esusmovement
Iar".L '::'- = .- ~:,~ianrock festivals,
.._.-=~ ~_~,_baptisms in the
~._-=-:'~gathirty-second
fif:' II' ;-:-- :::.._ =--~:oa huge network
.- ~- ~'.:.\:hyperconserva-
- ~~~_o_;:,r.amulticultural
- -_-.~\\~orkingWomen's
IIIi - ~>i;:,n, High School
;KI! -.. - . :..-.dDrug Recovery,
ip .::.-: ~~:YsicallyDisabled
w~,c -0-: ::_i-times symptoms
-. - = .:: :- :-,oks.Theworld is
.:: '--. :t_eirtimeon com-
-__- c-:' :-:'ide-and-seek.The
- .::~:::e:hers;instead, the
1liIIlI!<:::-' - -. __ :: :ole. But thepastor
_.~__.... theendtimes: try
':'0 lunch with aco-
- ~: ~on-Christian men
=.:~'-t.en you'reworking
__:: i :0know("Though
___ :e~I'm sayin'?").
~- .: '::.0.. Christian horror
~:o.;:' plane to the rap-
Anyone can find herself caught up in a little world. Sooner or
later, everyone does. Something comes into view and you find
yourself participating intheapparatus that madeit.
Shetakes up Body for Life on the adviceof afriend. Between
them, it'sajoke. Theycall it their cult. But they alsoknowthere's
something to alittle extreme self-transformation, or at least the
effort.
Body for Life is a best-selling bodybuilder's book with glossy
before-and-after pictures on the covers. "Twelveweeksto mental
and physical strength." It's achallenge to put down the beer and
chips and start loving life, not just living it; thriving, not just
surviving.
Sheisn't at all taken with the oiled, muscle-man and muscle-
woman pictures, but thelittlegameof moving back andforth be-
tween the before-and-after shots literally catches her eye. Theeye
jumps fromthe fat and paleto the tanned and muscled. Peek-a-
boo. All thebodiesarewhite. Theyremind her of thebody displays
shewasalwaysrunning into in LasVegasat the post office, or at
the drive-in movie theater, or whilewaiting in line to get anew
driver's license. The half-naked bodybuilders with wet-skinned
snakes draped around their necks, or amonkey on aleash, or a
stars-and-stripes halter top and permed blonde hair.
Her friend callsthe people in the pictures "beef cakes." Class
seemsto besomehow involved in all this (but if you ask anyone
they swear up and down that the people into Body for Life come
from all walks of life). A "mainstream" emerges out of it as the
will to change and the game of imagining the fruits of success.
In this mainstream-a spaceof promise-it's asif people can be
catapulted out of the back seat of lifeand flighty, self-defeating
dreams can bemadevital, generativeflesh. There aretestimonies
of the breakthroughs that happened when people were looking
at the pictures, or watching the inspirational video you get for
afifteen-dollar donation to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Sud-
denly releasedfromsluggishbanality and the feelingof being all
alone, people begin to cravethe twelve-weekprogram evenmore
than they craveicecream, chocolate, chips, and beer.
There'snothing weirdabout howthis happens. It'slaidout like
a twelve-step program in which spiritual transformation flows
directly through the flesh. First you ask yourself hard questions
and write down the answers. Youcreatetwelveweekly goalsand
voicethemwith mimicked confidence every morning and night
until theconfidence isreal. Youcreatefivedailyhabits. Youcom-
mit. Youfocus. Yousurrender the negative emotions that hold
everyoneback; Hlc:. ;~c:-
the twelve-week c:-_~,:-
:-
gazing approving,~c-~,
you. Yourealize:,':''':' '
Sheisn't intere'~e::.
actually reads rhe:: '
after photos and =:-_e::- ~,
at the end of rhe '::-:.
of the charts so s:-.e= c-::- -
memorizes theacce~~c:
-
meal and gleefull~'"c-~
theweek, asinsL:'L:~"':' -
bars. She experic,,-~: ':'-J
shaketastelikea~.:.:- c--c
limepie. ShegeLS:::-.": :- _ _
comeapieceof r.e: --::--::-..' -
theslidinginanc=_ : :: .:
she reduces the
-
exerciseand\\"h", :: "c-~
Later, sheSL Ue ~:" :
work of dozens c:' ::,c- ~
that makeBo~).;r( _,> ": ' c:e:l
... those who ._ ,
abundant life,,'e:-.c-'e:, _' : -
freedom." Others.:.:" -_
sonal adswith pic,..:.::
Inthe char rooc' :- - ~:-
fessesthat shecael.':C'.: ":
inthebowl ofHaL:::e- - '"
support in capilal :,,::::
A man happily _ ,_,
favoriteischocolale ~..:." - -"-
of icefromthe RL::-:::.__' c,:
thejar and then pc, ..:.: :-:
m.e- ': :: _ ~down the beer and
ill -~> thriving, not just
everyoneback; youstart looking forward. Everyonewho takesup
the twelve-week challengeisawinner. Youimagine other people
gazing approvingly at your new body until that image becomes
you. Yourealizeyouwill never againget sidetracked.
Sheisn't interested in the inspirational business and shenever
actually reads the book. She plays the game of the before-and-
after photos and then goesdirectly to thefoodand exercisecharts
at the end of the book. She gets organized. She makes copies
of the charts so shecan fill them out everyday likeadiary. She
memorizes theacceptablefoods andstocks up. Sheritualizes each
meal and gleefullyeatswhatever shewants on the seventh day of
theweek, asinstructed. Sheorders boxesof theshakesandpower
bars. She experiments with the recipes that make the chocolate
shaketastelikeabanana split and thevanillashaketastelikekey
limepie. Shegets the picture. Shefeelsthe surge. Shelets it be-
comeapieceof her. Then therearetheinevitable ups and downs,
theslidinginand out of Body for Life' s partial cocoon. Over time,
she reduces the program to afewnew prejudices about how to
exerciseandwhat to eat.
Later, shestumbles on Body for LifeCommunity.com-a net-
work of dozens of chat rooms. Some are Christian fellowships
that makeBody for Life their gospel: "Carry themessageor wither
... those who haven't been given the truth may not know the
abundant lifewehavefound-a wayout, into life, areal lifewith
freedom." Others areorganized byareaand look exactlylikeper-
sonal adswith pictures.
Inthechat rooms, things get reallyconcrete. Onewoman con-
fessesthat shecansmell thechocolate right through thewrappers
inthebowl of Halloween candy bythedoor, andsomeone shouts
support in capital letters: HANG IN THERE! YOU CAN DO IT!!!
A man happily obsesses about how to prepare his shakes. "My
favoriteischocolate and to prepare theshakeI alwaysuse3 cubes
of icefromthe Rubbermaid mold, put them (without water) in
thejar and then pour thewater in. Usetwelveand ahalf ounces
- _':,=-man and muscle-
1 1 :=---'::: back andforth be-
lIE-_ : ~~::-,c:sher eye. Theeye
I: muscled. Peek-a-
IE:T: ::':: of thebodydisplays
Ii ::::_ _~~:ic: post office, or at
III:: ~=-=--_ ~ ::1 lineto get anew
1111': - _ ::::s with wet-skinned
,- -' -- ,-~\-on aleash or a
r.- - ~~-~\... '
.I: _ : _ :=-_=-= hair.
- =-_::' --beefcakes." Class
: ...:.~ if you ask anyone
- . _=-: Body for Life come
IIE:::J .= :=.:::c:sout of it as the
..... ::.-~_:: ::,=fruits of success.
IllmTI:: - _: sasif people can be
I -:: "':',:ghty, self-defeating
Ill! -. ~--:1J .c:re aretestimonies
lIIlt:~ :=-.?cople were looking
- c - . = - . 2 i video you get for
ta.... - Foundation. Sud-
.11- _-:: :.' =teelingof being all
Pi: :::: programevenmore
lilt - ~( .,-ndbeer.
IIlii -~:,=,cns.It'slaidout like
...'_~ ::ansformation flows
-:...:.rselfhard questions
~- ': :--'=h"c: weekly goalsand
.: ::=-:. morning and night
~.' -: =-c.ilyhabits. Youcorn-
Ia: ' ~_ _. : c:motions that hold
and I centimeter, then blend for about fifty-fiveseconds. Yougot
to useastopwatch! I think this iswhy I loveMyoplex, becauseI
blend it for moreseconds and I drink it cool without milk or ba-
in themirror. 1t.e::- ~: '
thepalpableproT:':: ~'~. -:2 --:
world can bemac:: ::-~:_.
tingontrackisno~~:-.::
atightrope from-.--.'.,
or an"epidemic O~ ~:-,::'
decision, thebod\ ~::~_~' - ";
" nanas.
Connections between people areimportant: "Good morning
to everyone. Beenoff for afewdays. Lizzy- sorry to hear about
your migraine-scary! J im-it's true-your pictures don't do
you justice! Abs-I loveyour philosophy! It's true-we become
what we think about. Deb-Congratulations! Good luck with
your photos-can't wait to seeyour progress! If you find some-
thing that covers bruises, let me know- I bruise just thinking
about bumping into something. Can't wait to seeyou all at the
upcoming events!"
There are support groups for the dieting and for ongoing
troubles and tragedies.
The public face of Body for Lift is made of excessiveself-
expressions that proclaim, confess, obsess, and gush. Not be-
causethe body reallydoes just get on track and stay there, but
because it slumps and gets sidetracked and rejoins its Body for
Lift self. It wants and it doesn't want; it might do one thing or
another. It noses its way along the track its on until it comes
across asomething. The half-formed trajectories arealwaysthe
most compelling. It'swhen the body isin apartly unactualized
state and unanchored that it feelsmost intimate, familiar, and
alive. When the body is beside itself, it pulses in the mutual
impact of dream and matter, hesitation and forward thrust. It
wants to bepart of the flow. It wants to beintouch. It wants to
betouched. It flexesitsmuscles inastateof readiness, hums like
asecret battery kept charged, registers stressin aback spasmor
aweak limb.
Body for Lift saysturning fleetingfantasies into avital forceis
about making a decision, but making a decision is itself about
playing games, looking at pictures, followingrecipes, mimicking
desiredstates, inventing social imaginaries, andtalkingtoyourself
Thebody surges. = ,_j
Lifestylesand ::-, .=. _ _ ~--, '..1
makeof the,Ya,' :~~.-,~,
Thewayit bu::c' ,~,
Thewaythe
carried away. It s~.-"-:- __
drifts downstrear.__,,::
Agencylodgec i:- ~:-::~. -
tal. It no sooner S~-'-~~: , J ]
and then holes , _~ li
together or pull c. . "., ~ ':
redolent with sme:~' ,,',
firesburrowed i:D~"
andheavythings :. ~,~:.'
tojolt it to atten::.:-
Thebody kno-.',' i~:--~
exhaustion, and rc.""-"-
It canbealert ' Cc : : - . : :
air or to amovem,,:-.::: '
It canbeponde: ... ' "
emptiness. Asane'," ,
:: 5 C'conds.Yougot
:-oplex, because I
_~~-:.out milk or ba-
in the mirror. The proliferating cultures of the body spin around
the palpable promise that fears and pleasures and forays into the
world can be made productive, all-consuming passions. But get-
ting on track isnot thesimple, sober choice of alifetime but rather
atightrope from which you can topple into ordinary sloppiness
or an "epidemic of thewill" likeobsessivedieting.
13
And after any
decision, the body returns to its ordinary buzz.
1:':1: --:~.:: ..Good morning
L _.==- . : ::-'.' to hear about
Rt: - ::-:c~ures don't do
1liIiI:-:-- ~:J .C'-we become
i-::;'oodluck with
=~-':ou find some-
. :":'.'C'just thinking
''::: YOU all at the
_c_ ~oavital force is
:. ':1 is itself about
.:= :::cipes, mimicking
~_ ::.~':":'kingtoyourself
The body surges. Out of necessity, or for the loveof movement.
Lifestyles and industries pulse around it, groping for what to
make of theway it throws itself at objects of round perfection.
Theway it builds its substance out of layers of sensory impact.
Theway the body issubmerged in aflowand both buoyed and
carried away. It strains against recalcitrant or alien forces, or it
drifts downstream, eyestrained on thewatery clouds overhead.
Agency lodged inthebody isliteral, immanent, and experimen-
tal. It no sooner starts out than it gets sidetracked or hits awall
and then holes up, bulks up, wraps itself up. It might pull itself
together or pull aveil around itself, build anest of worn clothing
redolent with smells of sweat, or cheap perfume, or smoky wood
firesburrowed into wool. If it gets sluggish, it might call for sweet
and heavy things to match itsinner weight, or for salt and caffeine
to jolt it to attention.
Thebody knows itself asstates of vitality, immersion, isolation,
exhaustion, and renewal.
It can bealert to the smell of something sweet or rancid in the
air or to amovement too quick, agesture that's alittle off.
It can beponderous, too, gazing on its own formwith azenlike
emptiness. As anew lover, it dotes on revealed scars and zones in
- =:~-excessive self-
:c_::'gush. Not be-
:c_::'stay there, but
::: :,ins its Body for
- ;"_: ::'0 one thing or
:c. until it comes
. :::: ::::5 are always the
- c : ::.=-~>.- unactualized
. ""_::'~C'. familiar, and
: __ ':5 in the mutual
"::.:-:::\Yardthrust. It
-: "~:..:.ch. It wants to
. :::::.::'i:1ess, hums like
_c_::.back spasm or
She scans her dr;:"-L-,
what might be c.:.::: - :.
smellsofkumqu,,-: ::". ~- - -,
mourning dows '"~,: ::::- : c,
and nowbreediL :_-".. ::
Sheknows \\+- :_-: -.
out on the tracL::.: -
had been dmvn c.:::: ::
event for the Stf;:;:: ::::. :::
gesture, awide-cl?":
startled amplirucc:
the housed on a c_.:.
party host, maLL; "-:: ~-.:]
There arecrashe' :.:.:
thestage, thevoc.:.:.;
tonight. Therearc:==-;--
ThatnightBo::-:: c :":J
alone. Hefolh"c: c:-" -. _ - -=
story,Bobbysat'".::-.:::::-_'
moment of rep:i;:" ~. .:.-
high, lonesome ': _:::. -
thepenny laidOL :-" . _
power. He la:- de,--':. c:':'
thelong train p."::'; -. -__,'
hehadn't, the tL::.
cansleepwith a::,,-_:-
Sometimes L C.- - -
for the train to :::,.:..':
grantsdrifted
their ownwelcor:';: :: .- .. -
on frecklesand moles and earlobes. Asoneof the anxious aging,
it'sdrawn tothesight of newjowlsand mutant hairsandmottled
skininthebathroom mirror.
Thebody isboth thepersistent siteof self-recognition and the
thing that alwaysbetraysus. It dreamsof redemption bur it knows
better than that too.
It lovesand dreads theencounters that makeit. It latches onto
aborrowed intimacy or aplan of somesort.
Layersof invented lifeformaround the body's dreamy surges
liketendons or fat.
She'sat aLaurieAnderson showat the Soho Guggenheim. The
showiscalled"Your Fortune, $1." A white plastic owl isperched
on astool in adarkened corner spewing our astreamof two-bit
advice, trenchant commentary, andstrayadvertisinglingo. Itsme-
chanical yet sensuouslygrainyvoicedrones onandon, transfixing
her in aflood of Hallmark greeting card schlock. But somehow
the owl's simple repetitions intensifY the ordinary background
noiseof slogansand criesof alarm, givingit asensorytexturethat
isat oncedeadening andweirdlyponderous.
Then the owl sayssomething sheswearsshewasjust uncon-
sciouslychanting toherself: "Sometimes when youhear someone
screamit goesin one ear and out the other. Sometimes it passes
right into themiddle of your brain and getsstuck there."
A train wails in the still of the night. It often wakes her. Or it
lodges in her sleep, reemerging asatactile anxiety in the dawn.
into amemon 0: :.-.:.'
the coal trains \\.,.'_..:..:.
of town. People-.-,:_,.:.~_-
',-,"wasjust uncon-
',~:-_-.-ouhear someone
~J metimes it passes
,~'.:.;:kthere."
She scans her dreamy brain for what might have happened or
what might be coming. The morning air is saturated with the
smellsof kumquat treesand mimosa blossoms and thesounds of
mourning dovesandpet parrots that longagoescapedtheir cages
and nowbreedinthetrees.
Sheknows why the train cries. Danny's friend Bobby passed
out on the tracks one night and waskilled. He and his old lady
had been down at the freeconcert on the river. This isacharged
event for the street people. Therearegraceful moments: adance
gesture, awide-open smile, asudden upsurge of generosity, the
startled amplitude of pariahs suddenly rubbing shoulders with
the housed on apublic stage, perhaps even playing the role of
party host, making announcements or givingdirections or advice.
Therearecrashestoo: the people fallingdown drunk in front of
thestage, thevomiting, amanhuddled andpale, too sicktoparty
tonight. Therearefights.
That night Bobbyhad afightwith hisoldladyandstomped off
alone. Hefollowedthetrain trackstothecamp. Then, inDanny's
story, Bobbysataloneonthetracks, takingstockinabooze-soaked
moment of reprieve. Bobby loved the romance of the train: the
high, lonesome sound in the distance, the childhood memory of
thepenny laidonthetracks, thepromise of movement, thesheer
power. He laydown and closedhis eyes.Then, in the middle of
thelong train passing, heraisedhis head, awakening. They sayif
hehadn't, the train would havepassed right over him. But who
cansleepwith atrain passingbyoverhead?
Sometimes nowshegetsstuck at the railroad crossingwaiting
for the train to pass. One day, a boxcar full of Mexican immi-
grantsdrifted slowlyby,wavingandsmilingasif theywerestaging
their ownwelcometotheUnited States. Another timeshedrifted
into amemory of the coal mining camps inWest Virginiawhere
the coal trains would block for hours the only road in and out
of town. Peoplewould get out and lean on their trucks to talk.
~'" ~~~heanxious aging,
-- _-:...:-_ ~:l.airsand mottled
- :,<~:ognition and the
lID -:.::.~,,~:,~ionbutitknows
a Guggenheim. The
-~~-,-,~i;:owl isperched
_: -'-sueamof two-bit
_ :.::.~,:i,inglingo. Itsme-
It ~- - : -, -'-:1don, transfixing
II'! ~. ~-, -~' :k. But somehow
.}~ :,-=.i:1arybackground
.: :..,,,mory texturethat
: -=-:~"'wakesher. Or it
: -,---jetyin the dawn.
Once a quiet claimbegan to circulate that someday somebody
wasgoingget apileof dynamite, blowthetrain inhalf, and clear
theroad for good.
The train shapes astory of abjection mixed with vital hopes.
Something in the exuberant waving of the new immigrants, the
explosiveclaimsinthecoal camps, or Bobby'slyingdown tosleep
on the tracks, suggestsan intoxicated confidence that surges be-
tween lifeand dream. It'sasif the train sparksweighted promises
and threats and incites arecklessdaydreamof beingincluded ina
world.
Thisisthe daydreamof asubject whoseonly antidote to struc-
tural disenfranchisement isaliteral surgeof vitality and mobility.
A subject whose extremevulnerability isrooted in the sadaffect
of being out of place, out ofluck, or caught between arock and a
hard place, andwho makes apassionate moveto connect to alife
when mainstream strategieslikeself-disciplineor thegathering of
resourceslikeafortressaround thefrail body arenot anoption. A
subject who isliterally touched byaforceand tries to takeit on,
to let it puncture and possessone, to make oneself its object, if
only inpassing. A subject for whomanunattainable hope canbe-
comethetunnel visiononeneeds to believeinaworld that could
include one.
14
Thiskind of thing happens all thetime. It'sanexperiment that
startswith sheer intensity and then triesto findroutes into a"we"
that isnot yet there but maybecould be. It'safacilitywith imag-
ining thepotential inthings that comes to people not despitethe
fact that it'sunlikely anything goodwill comeof it but rather be-
causeof that fact.
It's asif the subject of extremevulnerability turns adream of
possiblelivesinto ordinary affectssoreal they become paths one
canactually travel on.
Abject and un::' ~~.
thinkable. They::
thenecessaryor -.
Somewho live0C ~.'. ~ .::.=, _ ,cUll
very much nose~i:~.', = -:
wolvesat bay.
Thewild ones ,~
sufferingthe cons:::.. =' : .
use themselves as ~:''" lJ I"l
world.
They build th::~
push things to see'. ,.
Danny grew '-"? .
young men earnec ~':-.:'
names- "Dannl' -':i:'~~:
14 SeeRajchman, lhe Deleuze Connections, 140-44, foradiscussion
of howall "beliefintheworld"islodgedinsensation.
andskill andacac:: .~'= "'':J J 1
Likethe time Da::.::. : . _
poleinalightnic; ,~~.- : __"L n
thrown open, ane :.'.:'::.- ,"
to thebeer storec:~'~ ::,::.
drovestraight thrc.:;'
through thecrops. -=-.'~" ":::i
evenafter theo\\T;: ~:.' ., , _ 12
Dannyhasstori:;.:;'" ::llt:
andviolentimpac' '_ -=-:", - -~11
somehow radicaliz: :,',~ , _ :1
One Christmas. ".'. =' ': .. '.. ~
heavilyall day, the' -=~: -=.:: 2
Claus propped up::, :' :'
grabbed a meat c:~~~. _' :'..lJ
:.... cday somebody
- _ =-" half, and clear
Abject and unlivablebodies don't just become "other" and un-
thinkable. They goon living, animated bypossibilities at work in
thenecessaryor theserendipitous.
- 0 .:.:'.ilh vital hopes.
1- - ~-- i:nmigrants, the
_-:=-.gdowntosleep
lid. _ .-=.:.::=-.~~Ihat surges be-
- _.::c -'cighted promises
- -.--~:n(J includedina
- - -~~;:,
:-'-:>44, for a discussion
. ::_<.:ion.
Somewho liveontheedgeclaimacertain craziness; for others it's
very much nose to the grindstone, running in placeto keep the
wolvesat bay.
Thewild ones saythey'rewideopen and they spend their lives
suffering the consequences. It'slikethey never learn; it'slikethey
use themselves as testing grounds for the forces at play in the
world.
They build their identities out of impacts and escapes. They
push things to seewherethey'll go.
Danny grew up in a place in rural North Carolina where
young men earned the honorific titleof being calledby their full
names- "Danny Webb" - by doing crazythings that took nerve
andskill andacomplete disregardforwhat couldhappen tothem.
Likethe time Danny climbed, drunk, to the top of atelephone
poleinalightning storm, balanced precariously on the top, arms
thrown open, and then fell. Or the timehewasin ahurry to get
to thebeer storebeforeit closed, soinstead of taking theroad, he
drovestraight through amileof tobacco fields, tearing up apath
through thecrops. Then heusedthepath whenever heneeded to,
evenafter theowner of thefieldstried to shoot him.
Danny hasstories. Storiesfilledwith mad, momentary victories
andviolent impacts suffered. And storiesfilledwith wildsurgesto
somehow radicalizetheworld through sacrifice.
One Christmas, when heand somefriends had been drinking
heavilyall day, they decided to attack thelife-sizedwooden Santa
Claus propped up inthe livingroom. After afewrounds, Danny
grabbed a meat cleaver and ran across the room, plunging the
--_- midote to struc-
:~iIY and mobility.
Irr ::~in the sadaffect
II!".::L _ ':':- : ~..-.'.-c:en arock anda
~; D: : - . ~: : connect to alife
f..D. : _ .:_ ~::-thegathering of
'.:.: :~not anoption. A
,-.: ~:_.:.: ::-iesto takeit on,
: ::-..eselfits object, if
__::::"::-..ablehopecanbe-
~_:.world that could
lilt =: ' nexperiment that
1 ::- .- :_ :.-:'. routes into a"we"
m~: =:' :acilitywith imag-
I!'I:T= :: ~J plenot despitethe
IIIl : : ;-_c ;f it but rather be-
t L :::::: :=.fY turns adream of
l':~ :_-.c'.- become paths one
knife deep into thewood. His hand sliddown the blade, leaving
two fingers cut to the bone and one hanging off. But the high
point of hisstory isthesceneof getting pulled over byacopwhile
heand hisfriends werespeeding down thehighway to thehospi-
tal in an old pickup in the middle of the night. Still drunk, they
told the cop it wasan emergency and hetold them to get out of
thetruck. Danny said, "No, really,"and opened thetowel pressed
around his wound. The blood gushed out, spurting all over the
windows to the rhythm of his heartbeat. Some of the blood hit
the cop'sface. His facewent white and hewavedthemon, shout-
o "G IG I"
mg, o. o.
Danny and hisfriends havebigparties out inthe country or at
"thecompound," wherehehasfinallysettled down inahard and
sweet utopia/hell down by the tracks. They play music all night
and the music resonates in their bodies: Matt becomes fiddle,
Danny becomes guitar, Rebeccabecomes mandolin. They build a
bonfire, smokesomeribs, tell stories.
Sometimes they perform an attack on the American dream,
likesmashing atelevisionset and throwing thepiecesonthebon-
firewhilethey dancearound it.
They cherish derelict spaces.They occupy azoneof indetermi-
nacy.They'reslippery.
They livethe lifeof a sheer collaboration produced through
circuits of debts, gifts, affects, andhard necessities. If oneof them
findswork, hewill cut the others in. When they work, they work
hardandfast.Theybuild fencesandfurniture andsheds, cut down
massivetrees, xeriscapeBowerbeds, haul brush, run electricity or
plumbing. Theygear upfor abigjob and then knock it out. Then
they party whilethey'restill sweaty, exhausted, satisfied, together.
Inthedown times, therearelong daysof hanging out inliving
rooms set up in the fields beside their shacks. Days of peace or
helpless despair. There are art projects built out of rusted metal
and agedwood. Thereareloveaffairs. Therearerages, fights, ad-
dictions, hunger
who comeunhi::.z::~."
desireto realin', -=-"-.::', _ :.2 1!1
sad, exhausted, e:-:'. ~- ,
servativepreside: c,' :':n
with you onyoe '
Theyarelivir.; :..-. ,. -, 'II
out of an even'co.'
ties of all kinds. ~,
act but morelikeo...-
subject into the ::... ::~=
One thanksg::,:-:- .:: '
people on abus" :::=='
zoneof contact :::.',' =
Another time.'. ::
at theVA hospiIe:..: ....
havetheir ownF: : :.: : , '
he found aMr. '::;~:. ,
donated ahuge.....'::~
three burners. =!:':-.'
maker, droveiI :':.::'
Therewasalot c... ' ~ ~
seeif it waswor:,::::;:
useit becauseiI
couldn't useit t,:: .
making callsage.::-. :
wanted to dona:e .. ,
wasgoingon. 11:, ,
"Trust is abreak. : '. ':u
probabilities. The ,'. ' =
and deliberation, .'
its own momen' .... :-.' ' .... u
fromalock, swe:>;: =1
dictions, hunger, sickness, withdrawal, suicide. There are those
who come unhinged at times. Thosewho Boat, unable to connect
desire to reality. There aredays, or weeks, or months, or years, of
sad, exhausted, emptiness. There iscrazy talk about shooting con-
servative presidents and robbing banks, taking afew rich people
with you on your way out.
They areliving the rhythm of astruggle towrest a"something"
out of an everyday lifesaturated with dragging, isolating intensi-
ties of all kinds. More often than not, this is not really awillful
act but more likean undoing or awilling mutation that draws the
subject into the prepersonal zone of affect.
One thanksgiving, Danny spent hours handing out Bowers to
people on abusy street. It was like hewas trying to jump start a
zone of contact in the world.
Another time, he tried to get acommercial coffeepot installed
at the VA hospital for the guys in long-term rehab, so they could
havetheir own pot and aplaceto gather. Hecalled businesses until
he found aMr. Garcia who was very happy to help. Mr. Garcia
donated ahuge, used, stainless steel, commercial coffeemaker with
three burners. Danny borrowed a truck, picked up the coffee-
maker, drove it the ninety miles to the hospital and installed it.
There was alot of paperwork. He called acouple of weeks later to
seeif it wasworking out. A clerk said they weren't letting patients
useit because it was aused machine. He saidwell, if the patients
couldn't use it he was going to come pick it up. Then he started
making callsagain to seeif hecould find anew machine someone
wanted to donate. He was careful to let Mr. Garcia know what
wasgoing on. This isthekind of thing Alphonso Lingis callstrust.
"Trust is a break, a cut in the extending map of certainties and
probabilities. The force that breaks with the cohesions of doubts
and deliberations isan upsurge, abirth, acommencement. It has
its own momentum, and builds on itself ... like ariver released
from alock, swelling one's mind and launching one on the way.
- -_-_:: "=,~-,-de, leaving
::- -;: : =- But the high
- -:::::,- acopwhile
- ;:-_'e---:O the hospi-
-_;:-: S::~~drunk, they
~~-_:::-: __to get out of
- ::::':- :::-_:: :owel pressed
- _:::::g all over the
- - _ ~ _ _ =:':- ,he blood hit
:-:: ~::-:emon, shout-
- _: _:-_:ie country or at
: -:_ :::- ~:'.'.Tc in ahard and
- -:: :-:e-'-music all night
: ~=:~becomes fiddle,
=- _ _=-_::olin,They build a
::-_::_-\merican dream,
;:::-_:: vieces on the bon-
_____ produced through
--~-:::::<sities.If one of them
-:::-_:he:; work, they work
_::0: and sheds, cut down
It- _ : :-~sh, run electricity or
- _ :~,e:nknock it out. Then
1rC- __ -=>:ed, satisfied, together.
I'lII_=~ :,:- hanging out in living
f _ _ - '_-_dcks.Days of peace or
1 ": - : ..:.ih out of rusted metal
--:-_-_::re are rages, fights, ad-
... Tohaveput trust in ... (someone) isto haveto put still fur-
ther trust inhim. Once trust takeshold, it compounds itself."15
Livinginthestateof being"wideopen," theseguyscantakeon
all thegood and badintheworld at onetimeor another. But this
isnot astateof chaos or sheer negation. It's more likeawork of
initiating, calling out, instigating, inciting. J ust to seewhat hap-
pens. Evenif it'snot much.
tures in motherl2 -:-~
trips thrown togC"~:-~ ~~ -
domgathered UD~~~ ~_-:
without irony. C;:- ~: I]
Graham on viti:-:-
quickening that :, ~~- _lJ
there is only ODe ::~~ J J I
. .. It isnot you: = _ -
valuableit is, nor :-~: ~ ;:-TID
do not even hF:: ~: -
to keep open an~__
... Thereisno':~~::c_ - Til1.
queer, divinedi,, __ ~~:c~
ingand makes u, :-:-~: -
The surge that starts things. A cracking open, like akernel that
splitsand becomes fecund. A crackling. A flashingup.
Durability. Theproperty of being ableto surviveand grow.
AustinMama.com isanaward-winning Internet zinefor hard-
working, sacrilegiousmothers. Itsart, poetry, andstoriesperform
parenting asan affectivechargethat pulls people into placesand
forms that arefar frompredictable intheideological standards of
"good" and "bad" parenting.
AustinMama.com isfunny andintimate. It sponsors gatherings
likeaMother's Day spent sitting onlawnchairsintheparking lot
of ahip storedrinking cocktails andwatching Mommie Dearest.
It drifts into identity practices- the naming and demonstrat-
ingof what it isto be"amother." But then it breaksup "mother-
hood" into splintering affinitiesand differences (acommon taste
inbooks, ashareddistancefrommother-culture norms, apropen-
sity for patience or rage). Then it drifts back into alooser, more
affective, formof "mother" closure-an instance of hope, afeel-
ing of connection to something big running through things. Or
frantic depression or burnout.
Thejournal iseclectic. Its sensibilities rangefromwild adven-
After 9/n the fi~_:: 1
firefighters' bod:C",~-: :TJ ::l
and letters. The,~-':: - _ It
women flockedte:-: -=- :.
Theywent throu;:_ ~_ c
to marry other i: ~: = ; - - : -,"Ii
stress syndrome c-:-.,= , -
plained about thC":~:: - :::::]
just doing their :::: -: TJ "
fromthe twenn--:=:- -- -u
thelobby for ano:_-~:~-- ':Ill
they heard thebL:_~_:~ _ ::L :ll
onds beforeit feL. ::-~: _
15 AlphonsoLingis, Trust (Minneapolis: Universityof Minnesota
Press,2 004), 65 .
16 AgnesDel\L:~-
335
tures in motherland (kids vomiting all over you all night, road
trips thrown together on awhim) to inspirational words of wis-
dom gathered under the sign of "the mother," though not exactly
without irony. Once, for instance, someone quoted Martha
Graham on vitality: "There is avitality, a lifeforce, an energy, a
quickening that istranslated through you into action and because
there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique
... It isnot your business to determine how good it is, nor how
valuable it is, nor how it compares with other expressions.... You
do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have
to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you.
. . . There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There isonly a
queer, divine dissatisfaction, ablessed unrest that keeps us march-
ing and makes us more alive.
16
-:: :'=, Jut still fur-
:-:~.-=-= ''':':C cisitself."15
-=-~,-::'-:: ~'..:.~.~s cantake on
-=-.-. -:: :: -=--=-.cIher. But this
: :; :C'. =:-:: :ike awork of
~_': :C' see what hap-
. '. C.-'-':CT,g up.
E .,== :: "..:.,:,.-i\'e and grow.
:r::::.~:c.:ernet zine for hard-
Ie" = :':-. -,-ndstories perform
' _: c-::cpIeinto places and
.~:' .'::'-::J logicalstandards of
.,:.::':':-:: :, sponsors gatherings
II[ - cc.-,-irsin the parking lot
II[ .~. -:::la }dommie Dearest.
----~~~
_ ,~" -; -' ina and demonstrat-
.. , -~" t>
. -=-'-:::c it breaks up "mother-
B: -=---::=:'-:::-::Eces (acommon taste
Er::: :=-:..:.::urenorms, apropen-
,.::-:c: c-,-ckinto alooser, more
r, - ~-,::l5 lanceof hope, afeel-
!lie _:-:-jngthrough things. Or
After 9/II the figure of the firefighter became a vital one. The
firefighters' bodies held acharge. They were inundated with gifts
and letters. They went on "Thank You, America" bike tours, and
women flocked to malls and parking lotsjust toget alook at them.
They went through divorces, drugs, suicides. Some left their wives
to marry other firefighters' widows. They suffered post-traumatic
stress syndrome and World Trade Center syndrome. They com-
plained about thestressof their mythic status. They saidthey were
just doing their jobs. One man said he got the call to evacuate
from the twenty-first floor, but he and other firefighters stayed in
thelobby for another thirty minutes, helping people get out, until
they heard the building coming down and jumped out thirty sec-
onds before it fell. He said it was horrible, all the bodies falling.
16 AgnesDeMille, Dance to the Piper (Boston: Little, Brown, 195 2 ),
335
He had no ideawhether any of the others who had been in the
lobbysurvived. Hesaidthat theonlyperson hesavedthat daywas
himself and hedid it byrunning likehell.
Later, shevisit, ~~... _
perched onthee~~~.- -
ders down to his . =- : - ~:
time. Then the
slumps wayinto ~:.~:
sucked our of hi, ~: ::.
Theysit, suspc.::.~::.
sheturns to star;::. _~-- _
Thenext day ~ -
inghas comean~~: -
Sometimes you canseedeath coming. There'sasadslackening of
fleshandbone. Thebody shimmers asif shrouded. Asif anenergy
that's moving through it isstill vibrant but passing.
One day her father sayshewants to talk to her. He's seventy-
three and still working. It's the boom years of the stock market
and he's been investing all of his income for retirement for the
past fewyears. Suddenly there'smoney! It'sasif hehassomekind
of secretgeniustosmell our what'shappening. He'sbeenwatching
the stock market channel. He's taken wild chances. (Her mother,
on the other hand, remembers aspectacular failure or two. She
worries that he'll gocrazyand loseeverything.)
Now there'smoney! Shedoesn't react much to this news. She's
not surewhat to sayand shedoesn't knowthat this isthe moment
for congratulations and good-byes.
Her father sayshefinallyhasall hispapers inorder. Something
about atrust. Hesayshe'sbeentired thelast coupleof days.Then
the sadslackening comes. Suddenly hisbody issmaller, looser. It
seemsblurred, asif she'sseeinghimthrough water. Shewants to
shakeher head and turn on more lights in the room asif there's
something wrong with her eyes.
The next day hestays up late at the Christmas Eveparty and
then diesinhissleepon thelivingroompullout couch.
A blanket fallsover everything. A massiveicestorm kills half
thetreesonher father'sbelovedmountain. Themen intheneigh-
borhood murmur about how the trees snapping off in rapid fire
all over thehillsreminded themof enemy fireinVietnam.
Sheremembers ~:~
shewaswalking c'-'~: - -: - : : . . - =~
the barbed wire:'::::.:- _. _':~
ment at the borc~: :. j
their children ,HS....:z .-- -
young man dove::. :- ~
out across the ,\'i~~~-.- _
before he turned -:c.:.
breezewas bIO\\'i..-:c: ~.-~
thebank.
Then shesa,\, c..c::: . ~
and draw togethc .: c : _. :1
thecenterstarted~: -.-'~:_- _..',:
others joined in. T:.~' ~
what they weresiL~.~:
WalkingoverIi;::: ~- ::.c:
belowwerelikea..-:--.. ~.
- , = ~"ldbeen in the
- ~ ~,::;l--;:i ,hat daywas
- ' C 1,1~;~lckeningof
= _~C: ~ . . -"cs if anenergy
Later, shevisitsafriend who hasjust quit drinking again. He's
perched ontheedgeof anoldcouch, hanging hishead andshoul-
ders down to hisknees. He sayshejust can't start over again this
time. Then the slackening comes. Theedgesof his body blur. He
slumps wayinto thecouch, asif half thewater hassuddenly been
sucked out of hisbody.
Theysit, suspended, for alongtime. Thenhecloseshiseyesand
sheturns to stareout thewindow.
Thenext dayhe'sback. Miserableand scared. But theslacken-
inghas comeand gone.
!i . ~_- : : = ~c:. He's seventy-
til'C . , . : : : h;: stock market
Hi- - : : ~': ~ :c,i:ement for the
iI[;c :-5:: ~,e~,assomekind
I:iiCC ~ : '_~;: -:-ie',lx:enwatching
....., _::.=~.l-.ces. Her mother,
. __1= ~l:lureor two. She
::-._;'--.,0,his news. She's
: . ', 1: :his isthe moment
Sheremembers the oddly vital sceneat the border one daywhen
shewaswalking over thebridgeinto Nuevo Laredo. Sheexpected
the barbed wirefencing all along the bridge and the gruff treat-
ment at the border crossing. But asceneof ayoung couple and
their children washing their clothes inthe river surprised her. The
young man dovein. Heswamdown totheriver bottom and then
out across the wide expanse of water, halfway to the U.S. bank
before he turned back. Thewater was sparkling in the sun. The
breezewas blowing the clothes dry on the one scragglybush on
the bank.
Then shesawagroup of about thirty men gather on the bank
and draw together in asemi-circle around aspeaker. Theman in
thecenter started topreach, cheering and clapping hishands. The
others joined in. They all started to sing. Shecouldn't quite hear
what they weresinging but it wasclearlyinspirational.
Walking overthebridgetomaketheborder crossing, thescenes
belowwerelikeamirage. But real too.
~~:::~,:~order. Something
,~.. . ":,,,':':Juple of days.Then
= : : : . " issmaller, looser. It
__;:~_-.yater.Shewants to
. -' :he roomasif there's
'::~.::stmasEveparty and
-_ :::.":our couch.
-:...~':--eicestorm killshalf
t: . : =- ~__-=nemen intheneigh-
~,l::>pingoff in rapid fire
. =: : ' - i.IeinVietnam.
something had SL?: :'-
long time. It's nc,-:,:~
new. Here was f: - - , : : ~ __'
sleep. Then the -
taryand brash f: : : : ': :
to innocent slue,:::: ~
an undercurren-: :: '-~:_,-
beached.
Shewalked cC'. " : '
paper and rub
national "we."T',:: C_'
Marfa is a small west Texas town filled with (mostly white)
ranchers, poor MexicanAmerican farmworkers, artists, and bor-
der patrol. Sheissitting inaMexican restaurant, listening to two
older rancher couples talking about ranching troubles when three
border patrolmen come in and sit down at the tablenext to her.
Thereareborder stories innational circulation about immigrants
dying of thirst trying to crossthe long, desolatestretch of desert
that theseguyspatrol everyday. But theseguysspend their lunch
hour today swapping sweet, redemptive stories of rescuing wild
animals on their patrol. Detailed, innocent stories. At first, she
thinks this issomekind of crazycamouflage appliqued onto the
surfaceof the things theseguysmust do and seein the courseof
their day on border patrol. But then sherealizesthat the stories
they'retelling areabout the animals they rescuedthat verydayor
earlier in theweek, asif this iswhat they actually spend alot of
their daydoing. Sheknows thereareeccentric characters inMarfa
whoselivesrevolvearound sheltering rescuedanimals-there's the
turtle manandthehawkwoman andsheissurethereareothers-
all with their trailers and yards and heads stuffed to overflowing
with injured animals of that onekind. And listening to theborder
patrolmen tell their animal rescuestories adds anodd and simple
excessto the heavilyscripted imageof the militarized border full
of atrocities.
eyesandthenei~:--,:_.'
her inner ear.1:1:: ::: , : ::1'11
fleshy.Their eye, ":::" _': : : : : ll
She chained :',:::" ' -
out to beanobs::':'
friend werefigh-:::,z
~ .
cut off her frieD"'-','.
emphasis. Pay e.-:::::' .
fieldandher hee.",- -
up out of the gL _:-=-
moving back aI'-e: :. - ..-''']
She took ade.' -:::
bration. Fieldsc':, -
horses were fran:::"'- - : _
pueblo was full::' :-'
cloths and bod, -:=, ''
fromthe native', ': : : C
kidnapped babies. - =- : - =-
water of theriver.,-
who then lurchec ~- =- :
tically giggling a:,c::- -
to haveto knoweL::' _
business.
On 9/II shewas living in Santa Fe. The talking heads weresay-
ing that everything had changed. But to her it seemed more like
=- -- C~~~:i::1gheads were say-
:. _-_=~ :, seemed more like
something had snapped into place that had been building for a
long time. It's not like the shock in the ordinary was anything
new. Here was the same rude awakening from an already fitful
sleep. Then the double-barreled reactions of ponderous commen-
tary and brash reaction. Then the dream of some kind of return
to innocent slumber. Everyone was on alert. But there was also
an undercurrent of deflation, like something buoyant had been
beached.
Shewalked down to the neighborhood coffee shop to get the
paper and rub shoulders with strangers in the intimate public of a
national "we." The brilliant yellow daisies and blue asters hurt her
eyesand the neighborhood stilllifes blurred against the buzzing of
her inner ear. The people at the coffeeshop looked more tenderly
fleshy. Their eyeswere stunned, their cheeks puBY and pink.
She chained herself to the grid. But staying tuned in turned
out to be an obsession shadowing her. She dreamed. She and her
friend were fighting soldiers in abig field. Suddenly one of them
cut off her friend's head. The dream action froze into ascene for
emphasis. Pay attention! Her friend's body was standing in the
fieldand her head wason theground next to her asif it had grown
up out of the ground like apumpkin. The eyesin the head were
moving back and forth, surprised and confused.
She took a day trip to Taos Pueblo's annual Saint's Day cele-
bration. Fields of high grasses blew softly in the breeze. Dogs and
horses were framed in quiet poses against blue mountains. The
pueblo was full of grinning visitors. Native men wearing loin-
cloths and body paint were running around snatching things
from the native vendors' tables. They ran into the pueblo houses,
kidnapped babies, and swung them, squealing, through the cold
water of the river. With buckets of water they splashed spectators,
who then lurched back into the crowd when they came near, fran-
tically giggling and trying to avoid eye contact. It felt good not
to have to know exactly what was happening. It was secret. Their
business.
I - ,,=--, ~~i mostly white)
:.r-- ~:~=~s. anists, and bor-
a: -:"~'-":'::-'-::1L. listening to two
" ':~- . -.. " ':-z ~~oubleswhen three
n. .,.._'-~~-:.=,able next to her.
__~_.'-~__,..."jO;E immigrants
CIC':: =-=".",e streIch of desert
!- - :cc ;-":'~'sspend their lunch
L c .~.~:es of rescuing wild
- .=,...~"ories. At first, she
ilC ~c..:;e,,??lic,ued onto the
~'C=-. -'-.-._=_ seein the course of
: == - c ~e~~=es,hat the stories
i: -- =- '-='::-..:.ed thaI yery day or
;r. . c- .--' . spend alot of
I: : __ '="'.:~.'-.-:-:'aractersinMarfa
l!! __, , = s-.iT"als-there's the
i: _.''':'::-=,he,..eareothers-
It - . ~=- ':..:.~ed: 0m'erflowing
rl': - " . . _, :. . ,:er-,ingto theborder
!iii, . - _ '-=_=_, ,,::1odd and simple
::: - -.... _= .:..:::arizedborder full
Insidethe ceremonial circle, the religiousleaderswerewaiting.
It was beginning to storm. There was thunder and lightning, a
coldrainand afiercewind. Twostrong men madetheclimb up a
sixty-foot poleinthemiddle of thecircle.At thetopwasaslaugh-
tered sheepand two big, brilliantly coloredsacksfull of offerings.
One of themen stood precariously on thetop of thepole, untied
anAmerican flagfromtheback of hisloincloth and held it inthe
wind over his head for along moment, lightning flashing in the
skyaround him. It was amazing. Then hedropped the flag. One
of thereligiousspecialistssnatched it out of thewind beforeit hit
theground. Who knewwhat it all "meant," but it wascertainly an
event initself
A fantasy crossedher mind of staying here; of being whatever
this placewasabout. A mystery chargedwith potential.
Theordinary isa,:-,;: ~.c' -J;
It'salsoasenso:-c':: , - :.
And aworld 0:- :.':::"-
movesof intensie:: :.:::
She walks th.: '.:'.;:.-.: - '- : 1
morning, layingc:', ~.;-.,~
Theyards are'.-":'.'.::~: : -
The mist ris.:s.,. ~.
ues of giant bu:l:'," :~:: - c.' I.
doingwith all d-:.esc:~:._,
around themasi:':: :::.~. -::I
Up thestreet. :.:.:;::
Thebird cries~c;;:.:-
Arianasnatc:'1c-=-:.
Thevagueness:: ::: .- - -
somuch adeficic::.:-c
still moving e\'er. :.-,:_;-
seemsto bepleLe::::,~:'
Thisisno mo:::::..'.':. '- :'A
berealized, bma:-:-.:::.::- c- . , 'j
something not q'-.:i:::..::~_ .,~
A fewweeks later, shewent to the big annual dance at Jemez
pueblo. At the entrance to the plaza, three weathered-looking
white men were running an Osama bin Laden dart game. They
weresellingto teenagenativegirlsthe chance to shoot darts into
bin Laden'sface. Threedarts for two dollars. Theywereshouting,
"Everyone'sawinner!" Theywerehanding out American flags.
Shewatched. They watched her watching. Then shestarted to
sidleup to ask themwhat this was all about. Their facestwisted
like they were used to trouble. She slid back away from them
without finishing her question and moved on, ttoubled in many
directions at once.
17Thenotion 0:' : : . = . ' - -
isfrom Rajchmarc. ::-, ~
~;:s.'='ers werewaiting.
'" - =- - _::-~.=.::::- and lightning, a
:c_ - ;:::-~ :-:~adeIheclimb up a
~~_~~ieLOp wasaslaugh-
.~_ . full of offerings.
. ' ~~~ ~ ~: ?:yc~,he pole, untied
and held it in the
!It: - ~ ;: : - ~~::-~:"'lgtiashing in the
- ~~c:?pec ,he flag. One
- -~~~-:.c: .. xd before it hit
;r: : - - ~ : : - . : ~ : L. .ascertainly an
iJC '':: s.::-.::- . .:cl dance at Jemez
LC- : . ~~c::::'.<.-ealhered-Iooking
r;.c . - _a'::'::::1dan game. They
_.: :.-..:.::-.:e~oshoot darts into
!I'": .. ~, -::I:.e~: \wre shouting,
ti-~=- : : - . ; : . : ~ _-unericanflags.
_ , ..::-~,::. -=t,enshestarted to
.- : .:~.-::heir taces twisted
.:. .-.:.:i 2.\':a\ from them
it - ~. : . : : : - . . uoubled in many
The ordinary isathing that has to beimagined and inhabited .
It's alsoasensory connection. A jump.
And a world of affinities and impacts that take place in the
moves of intensity across things that seemsolid and dead.
She walks the neighborhood with Ariana in the very early
morning, laying down imaginaries.
Theyards arevulnerable in the predawn.
The mist rises in ayard full of playful and scary cement stat-
ues of giant bunny rabbits and gargoyles. What are these people
doing with all thesestatues?They've built an ugly aluminum fence
around them asif to protect them from theft. Or something.
Up the street, alargeplastic ball islodged in atree.
The bird cries begin.
Ariana snatches flowers off bushes and drops them in her lap.
The vagueness or the unfinished quality of the ordinary is not
so much adeficiency asaresource, like afog of immanent forces
still moving even though somuch has already happened and there
seems to beplenty that's set in stoneY
This isno utopia. Not achallenge to beachieved or an ideal to
berealized, but amode of attunement, acontinuous responding to
something not quite already given and yet somehow happening .
: ;;c. - . : : ~- ~: : : : : : IJ r' ;"eingwhatever
::.:. ... ~:-, ::'c~e2~ial.
17Thenotion of the unfinished quality of theordinary asaresource
isfromRajchman, The Deleuze Connections.
People are
they mean istha~~::-~::
know where to ,~.:.~~:
a beginning dc~o:: "
tangles of assoc:.:.~~:~,
passing, gestura.. :~-,--~
inchoate bm .:::~ :=-'--
ways of attend:-.; :: :- -
gestures not tc",~':':~:"-. _. L. - r
of knowina \\- ..:-. -
o' . ~. . , . . ,
question; an ct: : : ~:
Ariana isto. . . : : ~, :
"My turn! J{: ~...:::-
won't giveher : : - . = ::.L.~:o
theeat'slitter:::
Shehas no id::.:.
that she's tr<:-.Z :
series of smi: ::::'.
self withom ~=- - : " " : " .
This book is abom how moving forces are immanent in scenes,
subjects, and encounters, or in blocked opportunities or the ba-
nality of built environments.
It's also about the need for aspeculative and concrete attune-
ment. It suggests that thought isnot the kind of thing that flows
inevitably from agiven "way of life," but rather something that
takes off with the potential trajectories in which it finds itself in
the middle.
It doesn't mean to come to afinish. It wants to spread out into
too many possible scenes with too many real links between them.
It leaves me-my experiment-with asense of force and texture
and the sure knowledge that every scene I can spy has tendrils
stretching into things I can barely, or not quite, imagine. But I al-
ready knew that. Theworld isstill tentative, charged, overwhelm-
ing, and alive. This isnot agood thing or abad thing. It isnot my
view that things aregoing well but that they are going. I'vetried
to let goof pat answers I never exactly believed anyway inaneffort
to stay in the middle of things.
Ordinary affect is asurging, a rubbing, aconnection of some
kind that has an impact.
18
It's transpersonal or prepersonal- not
about one person's feelings becoming another's but about bodies
literally affecting one another and generating intensities: human
bodies, discursive bodies, bodies of thought, bodies of water. 19
18AnnaTsing'sFriction: An Ethnography of Global Connection (Prince-
ton, N. ]. : Princeton University Press, 2005) arguesthat the awkward,
messy,unequal, unstable, surprising, and creativequalities of encoun-
tersandinterconnection acrossdifferenceshouldinformour modelsof
cultural production.
19 SeeDeleuzeandGuattari, A Thousand Plateaus.
intensity, and :-.z = ~ .. -':1J
solutions ha::: :: ::
but there's .. _. : .. UJ
An impulse ~':'.~.,:,: ~~ .- :.lliE
These imy..:.:o=: - - _" -
impulses to\~.'.:.: ~:,-.:- , =: - _~1G
beginning, iu': ': =~. : - -
an ordinary S2. ~" ': =~: =;:
:'C:. ~:: ~mmanent in scenes,
lC' . .:. . ::,::,onunitiesor the ba-
Peoplearealwayssayingto me, "I could write abook." What
theymeanisthat theycouldn't andtheywouldn't want to.Wouldn't
knowwheretostart or howtostop. Thephraseisagesturetoward
a beginning dense with potential. They have stories, substories,
tangles of association, accrued layersof impact and reaction. The
passing, gestural claimof "I could write a book" points to the
inchoate but very real sense of the sensibilities, socialities, and
waysof attending to things that giveevents their significance. It
gestures not toward the clarity of answersbut toward the texture
of knowing. What alifeadds up to isstill aproblem and anopen
question; anobject of curiosity.
Arianaisfour now. Shewants to dothings for herself Sheyells
"My turn! My turn! Not-you-only-ME" when she'safraid that I
won't giveher the chance to try to readabook herself or to clean
theeat'slitterbox.Then sheshiftsinto focuswith adrylittlecough.
Shehas no ideawhether shecan do it, or evenwhat it is, exactly,
that she'strying to do. My mother, Claire, is recovering froma
seriesof small strokes. She, too, setsoff to do something for her-
self without knowing whether shecan. Simple things take time,
intensity, and ingenuity. Somethings haveto besidestepped. Or
solutions have to be invented. There are deadening frustrations
but there's alsoacentral, palpable pleasure in the stateof trying.
An impulse toward potentiality.
These impulses-Ariana's and Claire's-to "do it myself" are
impulses toward the speculative. Like this book, they're only a
beginning, just scratching the surface. But that's what matters in
anordinary saturated with affect'slinesof promise and threat.
e.:-_:':.':: and concrete attune-
CT ":: of thing that flows
l: = _~ =-lther something that
:,- .~_,~'hichit finds itself in
" ': '~IS Laspreadout into
t: C. , ' : : : ~ linksbetween them.
C::~':: of forceand texture
'lr : : ~, : : I can spy has tendrils
:: .:.:,.:ile, imagine. But I al-
11::: :~:."::. charged, overwhelm-
ll=~ , : .:.::,adthing. It isnot my
r __...'.:.: :l-:.e-.- are going. I'vetried
:::. :.:..e'-edanywayinaneffort
t_: .,~.:',aconnection of some
E;': ' : : ', - or prepersonal-not
, ilL': : '- - - . : . :ner'sbut about bodies
:-,' :::.:.:ingintensities: human
.. _:.l-:.cbodies ofwater.
19
!;t, - ' ~.-7bal Connection (Prince
. : :' 2.:guesthat theawkward,
:~:lIi\-equalitiesof encoun-
E'. : : ,~:.lidinformour modelsof
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and La p;.;;.
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"Ordinary Afficts isan extraordinary work of finely observed aspecrs of everyday lifeincontem-
porary America. It is abeauriful book about waking life, being awakened to life, and the fear
and desire rippling on the surface of people's ordinary movements through space. Radical yet
familiar, it isaprofoundly pedagogical book." - LAU R E N B E R LAN T, author of me Queen of
America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship
"Full of resonating stories, encounters quirky in their unapologetic ordinariness, and murmur-
ing objects, this book takes me into the thick world of the everyday in the U.S.A. Intent on
critique or explanation, too many scholars hardly know how to experience, much less think,
such worlds, and so regularly givethem BigNames like Capitalism and Modernity and Neo-
liberalism. Ordinary Afficts sounds the depths and shallows of intimate, particular worlds cru-
cial to finding our way in the tidal basin of contemporary culture. Here areaccounts of livesin
plain sight, but only if wecultivate the deceptively hard pracrices of slowlooking and off-stage
hearing. Kathleen Stewart touches the marrow of things by nurturing an oblique and unrushed
sort of attention, one alert to the bio-luminescence generated inordinary living taken seriously,
without which wearein the dark in politics, philosophy, and cultural theory."
- D 0N N A HA RAW A Y, University of California, Santa Cruz
''Anything but ordinary, this book rewrites the social sciences from top to bottom through its
bleak and beautiful honesty asto the human condition and the conditional nature of our lan-
guage and concepts. How the author has been able to step outside of the bubble wecall reality
so asto render reality isamiracle, yet one wemight all aspire to on reading this."
- MI C H A E L TAU S S I G, Columbia University
Ordinary Afficts isasingular argument for attention to the affective dimensions of everyday life
and the potential that animates the ordinary. Known for her focus on the poetics and politics
oflanguage and landscape, the anthropologist Kathleen Stewart ponders how ordinary impacts
create the subject asacapacity to affect and beaffected. In aseries of brief vignettes combining
storytelling, close ethnographic detail, and critical analysis, Stewart relates the intensities and
banalities of common experiences and strange encounters, half-spied scenes and the lingering
resonance of passing events. While most of the instances rendered arefrom Stewart's own life,
shewrites in the third person in order to reflect on how intimate experiences of emotion, the
body, other people, and rime inextricably link us to the outside world. Stewart refrains from
positing an overarching system-whether it's called globalization or neoliberalism or capital-
ism-to describe the ways that economic, political, and social forces shape individual lives.
Instead, shebegins with the disparate, fragmented, and seemingly inconsequential experiences
of everyday lifeto bring attention to the ordinary asan integral siteof cultural politics.
KAT H LEE N ST E WAR T isAssociate Professor of Anthropology and Director of the Americo
Paredes Center for Cultural Studies at the University of Texas, Austin.
cover photo: Nic Nicosia, Real Pictures #II, 1988.
Courtesy the artist and Dunn and Brown Contemporary, Dallas, TX.