Ranciere writes in the preface to his Nights of Labor that “[t]he topic of this book is, first of all, the history of those nights snatched from the normal round of work and repose. A harmless and imperceptible interruption of the normal round, one might say, in which our characters prepare and dream and already live the impossible: the suspension of the ancestral hierarchy subordinating those dedicated to manual labor to those who have been given the privilege of thinking. Nights of studying, nights of boozing.” (viii)
He continues, “night belongs to those who order the labors of the day (…) the ‘brutalizing night of sleep’ that the joiner Gauny sees approaching,” and against which Ranciere poses “our night, the kingdom of shadows and appearances reserved for those who can stay awake instead of sleeping.” (16)
One can see here a re-reading of Hegel’s dictum, though inverted. ‘The owl of Minerva flies at night’ not as an a priori condition for production of knowledge - the relation of nightly reflection upon the day’s action, but rather as an aspiration, to make one’s nights productive of a moment of that which is preemptively stolen during the working day. It is worth being tired and dragging during the workday, since the workday is ultimately lost time anyway. Those types of sentiments are not the least of the reasons that I have so much affection for Midnight Notes. This is also the best use of sick days, for those who get them: go to work sick if at all possible (since work itself is illness) and take sick days during times of health, to really enjoy the free time.
Baudelaire, “At One O’Clock In The Morning”:
“Annoyed with everyone and annoyed with myself I long to redeem myself and to bolster my pride a bit in the silence and solitude of the night. Souls of those I have loved, souls of those I have sung, fortify me, sustain me, remove from me untruth and the worlds corrupting fumes. And you, Lord my God! Grant me the grace to produce a few beautiful verses to prove to myself that I am not the lowest of men, that I am not inferior to those I despise!” (The Parisian Prowler, 17)
Another dash of Baudelaire, one along these same lines, another just cuz I like it.
“Night, which puts its darkness into their minds, illumines mine; and, although it is not unusual to see the same cause beget two opposite effects, it always intrigues and alarms me. O night! O refreshing darkness! For me you signal an inward celebration, you are the liberation from anguish! In the solitude of the plains, amidst the stony labyrinths of a capital, sparkling with stars, explosion of street lamps, you are the fireworks of the goddess Liberty! (…) the trembling gold and silver stars (…) represent those fires of fantasy which ignite well only under the deep mourning of the Night.” (51) Weekends and Saint Monday are even cooler…
“It is never excusable to be mean, but there is some merit in knowing that you are; and the most irreparable of vices is to do evil through stupidity.” (70)
Comment by Nate — December 15, 2005 @ 6:24 am
Doesn’t the owl of Minerva fly at dusk? Which would presumably imply it isn’t around at night, but rather is off somewhere hunting mice.
Comment by mark — December 16, 2005 @ 8:50 pm
more from the Dustbin of History department, thing I wrote at the old blog, posted here so I don’t forget it…
http://info.interactivist.net/~Nate/journal/507
06:42 PM prophetic J Church
There’s a punk band I quite like, called J Church. They have a song which includes the line “even my dreams these days have work related scenes”. Ouch. At the last organizer job I had I started having work related dreams. Awful.
My new job is more of a 40 hour a week thing, with normal daytime hours. Less hours but still tiring, especially since I’m an insomniac used to staying up and getting up late. Anyway, I stayed up super late downloading music Friday night, and at 7:20am saturday, four or so hours after turning in, I jolted awake, convinced I had slept through my alarm. I jumped out of bed, then realized it was Saturday. Like in that one Franca Rame monologue. It’s really funny, unless one thinks much about it. Then it’s awful.
In the intro to Nights of Labor, Ranciere writes about some workers in 19th century France - “What they found intolerable was not exactly the poverty, the low wages, the uncomfortable housing, or the ever-present specter of hunger. It was something more basic: the anguish of time shot every day working up wood or iron, sewing clothes, or stitching footwear, for no other reason than to maintain indefinitely the forces of servitude with those of domination; the humiliating absurdity of having to go out begging, day after day, for this labor in which one’s life was lost.”
He goes on to talk about the workers’ “nights of studying, nights of boozing”, as part of “other forms of existence beyond death, which may be beginning at this very moment in the attempt to put off as long as possible the entry into sleep, which will repair the powers of the servile machine.” Reminds me of a quote by US punk icon Aaron Cometbus, talking about his time in high school. Having been told that he and his friends would be the building blocks of future society, Cometbus and his punk pals decided to fuck themselves up so badly that they could be the building blocks for nothing, nothing would be built on/out of them. I’ll have to remember that the next time I can’t sleep, it’s somatic class war.
I wonder about that, actually. My new job is a proper office job, tie and everything. I have to shave every morning, and had to buy new dress pants, dress shirt, and dress shoes (got a good deal on second hand stuff, outfitted myself completely for less than $100 including new shoes, in large part due to some creative - and time intensive - ebay searching by my partner). This is a cost of time, and of money. It means the wages are effectively less and/or it’s additional unpaid work time. Housework? Maybe. Certainly reproductive labor, and makes it clear that reproductive labor is not the generic maintenance of bodies and making of new ones, but is reproduction of labor power in the specific form required for its sale in particular instances - clean shaven well groomed labor power with a tie at my newest place, labor power that is pursuing a Masters degree in education for one of my friends.
Off to bed now, have to repair the commodity for its sale tomorrow morning, and its malcontent fantasizing tomorrow evening.
Comment by Nate — January 9, 2006 @ 6:30 am