Blinkishness

If, as Lacan liked to say, the unconscious is structured like a language, what does that say about work?

And what does that say about the relationship between poetry and project management?

Plastic arts and manufacturing?

Work is designed to feign realishness. For those of us born into a "working class" milieu, we rely on the concretism of work to ward off the threat of annihilation. But this pseudo-modernist, psycho-babble, is just more work desperately trying to justify itself.

It's arguable that work truly doesn't exist at all, only a phantasmal partition among activities, some of which maintain the shadow of scarification rites, stretched out and sanitized over time.

True work is only something that you do. Like standing up and sitting down. Like breathing and shitting and sleeping.