Daily Life – Julien Devereux

Published May 17, 2020

Being realistic

Ken Knabb, editor and translator of The Situationist International Anthology, among other works, has posted an interesting essay about the COVID-19 crisis and its effects on us at his website, Bureau of Public Secrets:

We come to realize how much we miss certain things, but also that there are things we don’t miss. Many people have noted (usually with a half-guilty hesitation, since they are of course quite aware of the devastation that is going on in many other people’s lives) that they personally are appreciating the experience in some regards. It’s much quieter, the skies are clearer, there’s scarcely any traffic, fish are returning to formerly polluted waterways, in some cities wild animals are venturing into the empty streets. There has been much joking about how those who like quiet contemplative living are hardly noticing any difference, in contrast to the frustrations and anxieties of those who are used to more gregarious lifestyles. In any case, whether they like it or not, millions of people are getting a crash course in cloistered living, with repeated daily schedules almost like monks in a monastery. They may continue to distract themselves with entertainments, but the reality keeps bringing them back to the present moment.
I suspect that the frantic urgency of various political leaders to get things “back to normal” as soon as possible is not only for the ostensible economic reasons, but also because they dimly sense that the longer this pause goes on, the more people will become detached from the addictive consumer pursuits of their previous lives and the more they will be open to exploring new possibilities.
“Pregnant Pause — Remarks on the Corona Crisis”

I have no idea what will happen next, and make no predictions, but it is remarkable how much of what was “normal” or “common sense” back in early March seems like ancient history—or insanity—now. Even capitalist newspapers like the Financial Times have been talking about establishing universal basic income, a mostly fringe idea back when Occupy Wall Street was happening, nine years ago.

Earlier today I had the thought that the current crisis was making me realize that the punks of my teens and twenties, who were ignored or disdained by “serious” people, had been basically correct about everything: the state is corrupt, corporations are bad, factory farming kills (animals and us), local mutual aid is preferable to international logistics and supply lines, living cheaply and cooperatively can lead to a richer life, etc. Which I guess means it’s time for me, in my late forties, to become a bicycle-riding vegan anarchist, get a part-time job at a co-op, start a ‘zine or a band, serve free food in public parks, etc.!

Published May 7, 2020

Art after COVID-19

Yesterday I went through some of my old composition books after cleaning up my desk, and stumbled across a quote I wrote down in February 2014 and then forgot:

It is not the office of art to spotlight alternatives, but to resist by its form alone the course of the world, which permanently puts a pistol to men’s heads.
Theodor Adorno, “Commitment”

As usual with Adorno, I find it a bit difficult to understand exactly what he means—”resist by its form alone”?—but also intriguing. Art is not just a harmless pastime, a luxury for our “down times”. It’s our ally as we face a world that’s pointing a gun at us.

And although many of us, including me, are so far spending most of our COVID-19 quarantine time in the comfort of our own homes, for “essential” workers—health-care, food service, and grocery store workers—the suddenly unemployed, the people who can’t pay their bills or rent, and more, the world’s gun is at their head.

As a writer (or any other kind of artist), do we have anything to offer them better than a temporary escape? Can we help them resist? Art is not a substitute for providing them material support—honoring strikes, joining in mutual aid efforts, demanding our governments support and protect us—but it’s something worth pondering as we try to make art for others as well as ourselves in a difficult time, under difficult circumstances. Because sooner or later the gun is pointed at all of us.

Published May 5, 2020

A machine for living

France is going to subsidize bicycle repairs nationwide to encourage people to drive less. Up to fifty Euros a person, which sounds like a lot of money, but it’s less than Americans spend on gas every half hour.

I’ve been biking a lot during quarantine, and in addition to feeling good about not polluting the air, saving money, and getting exercise—as the graffiti goes, “a car runs on money and makes you fat, a bike runs on fat and saves you money”—it’s given me more appreciation for the city I live in. When I bike, I see areas of Austin I never see when driving (because I stick to the bigger streets) or when walking (because you can go much further, more quickly, on a bike than on foot).

It’s allowed me to get to know the city better, both the human culture and neighborhoods and the topography. In a car you don’t feel the subtle changes in elevation, but on a bike, since you have to make it go uphill and then feel the rush of coasting downhill, you feel it very concretely.

Whereas I used to think of Austin in terms of neighborhoods and landmarks, etc., I now also think of it as a series of creek bottoms and the hills and plateaus out of which they carved themselves. Biking has made me a better urbanist and a better naturalist.

Anyway, this country is unfortunately a long way from doing something like France’s bicycle repair subsidy, but that shouldn’t stop you from biking, and demanding your city build bike infrastructure. (Austin’s is not bad, but could be better, of course.