Being Sick as Free Time as Work, 2019

Friday night. I am getting very sick. I cannot go to that party in this condition. I stay home, alone. It would be wise to get some rest but I sit down in the sofa, reach at my laptop and start to work instead. I know if I type some notes now, I might be able to come up with a decent text within the next few days. Moreover, when I’m absorbed into my work I smoke less, which is especially positive considering my nasal congestion. Unfortunately I also tend to forget to eat and drink, so I am not sure what is best after all. Anyway, I do like to dedicate time to my work, but I like to sleep too. Such a pity I usually can’t remember my dreams. Actually, in a few occasions I did manage to write down some impressions. Once, I remembered my dream in such details that I could use it as a scenario for a short film, produced in collaboration with a friend of mine. When I am not working nor sleeping I also enjoy books, although I often end up reading stuff related to my work in one way or the other.

Some say that artists are the wet dream of capitalism in its current neoliberal phase. The labour market is shifting toward workers that can provide personal initiative, flexibility and highly-developed social skills, supposed to satisfy the increasing demand of services over production. Even though there might be some truth in it, the vast majority of workers on this planet are still employed in highly repetitive tasks carried out in rather poor conditions, a situation that doesn’t facilitate the nurturing of social relationships. On the other hand, I am far from being a perfect candidate; my flexibility is not unlimited and my social skills are average at best. Concerning the use of social media, I should make sure I maintain a certain level of proficiency, for in the future I want to be able to keep in touch with my daughter’s generation, without being considered a dinosaur.

I like to think that mobile phones have always been unlucky with me, although it is likely that other people have had similar experiences. For instance, one morning I snoozed the alarm clock and put the phone back on the bedside table, right in the tisane cup I didn’t drink the night before. Another time I sent my mobile to the customer service for repair. They replaced some parts before sending it back. When I finally switched it on, it was as malfunctioning as before.

In the dream I mentioned above, I am walking a path through cultivated fields, the whole landscape is bathed in warm light. I dig a hole by a gentle, plowed slope and bury my phone. After a few days I reenacted the oniric burial in front of my friend and its camera, meticulously repeating all the gestures I could remember, the last goodbye to my then latest broken mobile.

Now it is late and I am so tired, I don’t think I’ll have the energy to check my facebook feed tonight. First thing in the morning tomorrow, I have to answer some emails.