How it is that I ever forget that I am Untermensch? I don't know. But a moment of satori arrives -- like last week's vote on a tentative agreement that is going to spell the end of my bargaining unit's health plan, a vote where the head of my office worker's local stood before us for 60 minutes and basically called us monkeys -- that moment of satori arrives and forgetfulness is forgotten and self-knowledge of one's status as Untermensch returns.
But for this Untermensch there is the ambrosia of music.
On the train ride home tonight two great songs back to back. First, "Safe European Home" from The Clash's second album, Give 'Em Enough Rope (1978):
Yes, indeed. Follow that up with "Safeway Cart" from Neil Young's insufficiently appreciated Sleep with Angels (1994), and Untermensch cracks a smile, finding a little strength to plod forward.
Untermensch is not so miserable after all. And though his load is heavy, it is at least familiar.
Untermensch. The reality of life is that the majority of it is spent at a job that leaves one feeling subhuman. Not all employment; there are always exceptions. But for the most part I think it's an accurate statement to say that worklife leaves one feeling less than whole. The reason? I'd say it's the slavish devotion to rigid hierarchical control -- "I'm on top so by God you're going to feel my cock up your ass on a regular basis."
Theodore White in one of his Making of the President books made the argument that the youth rebellion of the 1960's -- The Making of a Counter Culture, as Theodore Roszak named it -- was owing to the success of the post-secondary educational system. It created leaders. And when these leaders went from the university to the workforce they rebelled because what they found there -- Roszak called it "technocratic society" -- was contrary to what they had been taught. I think that's right.
To block the work week from our thoughts and bring us home on a Friday night here are the Maldives, a fine Seattle band, performing "Blood Relations":
For all my stout philosophizing about the neurotic nature of man-woman relations and my embrace of an ascetic bachelor lifestyle I would toss it all on the dung heap in a jiffy if the right woman crooked her finger at me.
There is such a woman. I pass her almost every day walking to and from work. She is a sprite, a faerie; probably late thirties, could be a little older or a little younger; dresses well -- hip -- without trying too hard. She works at Seattle University I imagine. I've said hello before, last summer I think. I can't say that she reciprocated fulsomely.
I've always been polite. But then a few months ago I felt slighted for some reason; I got the impression that she purposely averted her gaze, like I was an Untouchable, whenever we crossed paths. It could have been entirely imagined on my part, but I don't think it was. I think she was trying to get to work on time or trying to get home at the end of the day and she didn't want to have to deal with this asshole leering at her. So I decided to return the favor and give her a little taste of her own medicine. Whenever she approached on the sidewalk I would turn my head to the side or drop the bill of my Obama '08 baseball cap. She didn't like it. I sensed a little panic, confusion, concern on her part. I did this for about a week. I didn't do it because I was being petulant (but in the end what other explanation is there?); I did it because I was tired of her arrogance.
Soon I returned to my old polite self, smiling broadly, nodding politely; and she seemed happy, relieved, like she was glad things had returned to normal. Now we have a detente. Sometimes she'll have a bad morning and ignore me. I don't reply in kind; I ignore being ignored. And things snap right back the next day or day after with smiles and nods (never any salutations).
Tonight in a light rain near the Eisiminger Fitness Center on 14th Avenue we passed each other and she gave me a really sweet smile. And it made me feel wonderful; that rather than being an Untermensch or Untouchable I was a fully-formed human being worthy of merit and with a soul.
On tonight's run "Look At You Now, You're Crying" by Comet Gain shuffled on my iPod. Our attachment to romantic love dies hard, if ever.
