Too Human for Capitalism
“A bit of grandiose delusional thinking takes one a long way.”
The line appears in a coffee-shop diary scrawl dated 18 November 2015. Our anti-hero—call him the Protomutant—has already missed the morning, already diagnosed himself as “blocked,” yet still reaches for something audacious enough to crack the day open. He is not lazy; he is too human for a machine built to monetize every minute.
1. When the Clock Becomes a Cage
Capitalism presumes that bodies and spirits keep perfect time with production schedules. But the diary mutters back:
“Siihen mennessä kun olen käynyt suihkussa, syömässä ja kaupassa on jo neljä eli työpäivä on ohi.”
(By the time I’ve showered, eaten and shopped it’s four o’clock and the workday is over.)
The Protomutant’s most ordinary acts—bathing, eating, wandering to buy paper—count as mutiny because they refuse the seamless efficiency the market demands. They are proof of digestion, fatigue, distraction: animal truths the spreadsheet cannot parse.
2. Sync or Sink
Unable to trust linear progress, he waits for “synchronicity”—those jolts of cosmic alignment that catapult him ahead faster than any Gantt chart:
“Mä samaistan nää syncit Vekkulan portaisiin: kun oikealla hetkellä astuu portaalle se vie paljon ylöspäin ja nopeasti.”
(I compare these syncs to the fun-house stairs: step on the right one and it lifts you sky-high, fast.)
The market calls this luck, networking, timing. He calls it alchemy—an outlaw logistics that privileges intuition over optimization.
3. Leap—and Refuse the Net of Profit
“Leap and the net will appear.”
The slogan could headline a start-up pitch deck, yet in context it is anti-capitalist. The “net” he trusts is not venture funding but an emergent mesh of fellow edgewalkers, small synchronicities, and the sheer adaptability of flesh. Profit may or may not follow; aliveness comes first.
“Nyt musta tuntuu siltä että olen siirtynyt uuteen vaiheeseen elämässä: elän taiteilijan elämää.”
(I feel I’ve moved into a new phase: I’m living an artist’s life.) 24th November 2015
Tomorrow the clock will glare again, but somewhere a fun-house stair waits to rise beneath your foot. Did you wait for a manifesto of cosmic significance? There is none, just a Protomutant’s Tuesday.
