We spend so much time in houses, in our domestic setting, wallowing in these shells. I’m so bored of houses, we have no choice. This is the illusion of choice in capitalism: You can live in any type of house! There are so many innovations! So many styles in the Ikea catalogue! And so many other catalogues! The sheer variety of catalogues is so overwhelming, don’t you see how many options you have!
This is the array of choice you have, from a thousand different toothpastes to a long Google search for the best kitchen unit carcasses (that’s apparently what a kitchen unit with out a door is called, go ahead and click the link and check it out, it’s a carcass). What kitchen unit carcass will best express your domestic identity? Which one will tell the story you want your kitchen to tell about you and your family and your life? Which microwave best expresses the narrative you have around your families journey?
‘I just feel it really gets across where we want to be in ten years…’
But you don’t have actual choice, you can only really live the one type of life the one which is forced at us from every angle, from every billboard and every magazine, from every television screen, from every bloody screen! Every tweet and every instagram account, it’s all screaming one world into your raw heart, and it’s a world that needs you but doesn’t care about you. It wants your involvement, it wants your energy, it wants your life, but it doesn’t care about your happiness, it doesn’t care about your love, it doesn’t care about the type of world that you want. It just wants you to buy in and spend, to through yourself away. That’s all it needs, are you going to give the machine what it needs?
Will it be worth it?…