Category Archives: Television

Century of the Self

My argument with so much psychoanalysis is the pre-conception that suffering is a mistake, or a sign of weakness, or a sign even of illness, when in fact possibly the greatest truths we know have come out of people suffering; that the problem is not to undo suffering or to wipe it off the face of the earth but to make it inform our lives instead of trying to cure ourselves of it constantly and avoid it, and avoid anything but that lobotomized sense of what they call happiness. There’s too much of an attempt, it seems to me, to think in terms of controlling man, of defining him rather than letting him go and it’s part of the whole ideology of this age, which is power mad.

– Marilyn Monroe’s ex-husband Aurther Miller on psychotherapy, after her suicide:

The BBC documentary series The Century of the Self talks about the link between consumerism and Freudian psychoanalysis in the US, showing the latter to be a repressive form of societal control. I found the series incredibly informative and learned some new things about two of my favourite topics, societal constructs and consumerism. Filmmaker Adam Curtis has made a ton of other quality docos, too. Next on my list is a series called The Power of Nightmares. Happy watching!

An ill-fated rant (Or: Happy Festivus!)

Sim cards. 3G. India. No.

I don’t even know if I have it in me to write about this. Anger might arise from deep within and hurl itself into the letters I’m typing right now.

I am finding it frustrating in India! I admit! I am. I am. I totally am.

I’m working online here and it truly is how I’m earning my way to pay for this trip. Thus, internet connection = important.

First of all, the word dongle should never have been invented. Who in their right mind thought that was a good name for what should be all intents and purposes be solely referred to as an aircard? My refusal to use the d-word is just the start of the complicated and almost always fruitless talks I get into with the 3G sim card vendors here.

….

Nope, I don’t have it in me. I don’t even have the energy to vent about this.

I’m spent. I am choosing to let this go. I let this go. Breathe.

RrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

That is all the grievance I have in me to air right now. Frank Costanza, I’ll try to do better next time.

Thank you and good night. Try the dal.

PS: Happy Festivus. My favourite holiday of the year because I can relate to it the most. Jesus who? Fuck you!

PPS: Believe it or not, George isn’t at home.. (Seinfeld, you are missing dearly from my existence. 1990’s, come back. All I want for Festivus is youuuu!!)