living in the Non-Revolution (Spahr)

1. I see Kat at work and we wonder if what the three of us are talking about "is," indeed "fashion" . . . or are we simply talking about looking or about getting dressed? Is that Fashion?

2. I am shivering cold on a weekend afternoon and use time I don't really have to make a hot bath full of cinnamon tea bags and read this book: Experiments in Imagining Otherwise by Lola Olufemi — Hajar Press. I think: maybe this is--the bath and the nudity and the Radical imagining of what could happen in a different Reality, after all--Fashion (?).

3. Is the inducing of/orchestrating of cinematic experiences/affects around oneself Fashion? Yes? I think so?

4. Emily writes a fictional scene that tinkers with Affect and Dark Academia and her own ambivalences around it. Is this Conceptual Writing? Is this Fashion? Could we enact this scene on film or on a stage? 

5. This morning with my coffee and quiet, I read the Editorial note to the new issue of Parapraxis, and it's all about notions of the wish (Freud, dreams) and of course Late Stage Capitalism and lack: 

    Though there are good reasons we don’t allow ourselves to wish, psychoanalysis cannot begin without someone bringing their dreams to someone else. If the wish is foreclosed, if people do not bring their dreams, the analytic encounter itself is impossible. Without the analytic exchange, the unsayable becomes entombed, condemned to the netherworld of the totally repressed; dream analysis requires us to tarry with antagonism. We must look to what is unsaid and unsayable, distorted, remaindered.

6. This causes me to wonder about what we're doing here: inscription, description, wish, looking. Is our work here psychoanalysis? Is Fashion psychoanalysis? Is our work to look at the unsaid, unsayable, distorted, remaindered?

7. I cannot unbind my Reading and my Looking.

8. I cannot unbind my Reading and the pleasure I take from walking from the train to work and listening to music.

9. I cannot unbind my outfits and the feeling of doing a flip turn while swimming laps and my outfits and writing to a student I don't know in a school in Canada that I must simply sometimes look away, with grimness, because I cannot possibly countenance all of the horror.