Limited, Inc.

  For some time, a group has been waging a graffiti campaign against femicide and other violence against women in France. I saw some graffitis in Montpellier this summer. I think, however, that the largest wing of the campaign is taking place in Paris. This morning, there was a slogan on our building: “I am not free until all women are free.” A supposed quote from a famous writer. This bugged me. I’ve thought most of the grafittis were good – some of them were long narratives, some were stats, some were cries of rage. But this graffiti struck me as, forgive me, typical neoliberal leftism. Let’s take it for a moment that the slogan is true. If so, one has to ask what “not being free” has actually meant to this famous writer. Is she in chains? Is she out of work? Is she beaten every night? Or does she appear at conferences? Are her words printed in mainstream journals and newspapers? Does she have an academic position, a good retirement lined up, and investments? If the latter is t

  In the pool at Aquaboulevard the swimmers bob in the denatured wave for five minutes every hour.   I check the affiche for the slides which grades them for difficulty and age. Adam wants to do them all.   Here’s the mangrove hot tub! Here’s the 20 person jacuzzi! The naiads are all dead.   Poor dears, they lived fearful lives singing the blues under crystalline rivulets. I do not think they will sing for us.   We invented fun in the headlong 20 th century grading our sensations accordingly.   Screaming down the intestinal turns of the Aquaraft I forgot my connection to the greater whole.