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part of the reason marx’s analysis that workers are compensated for the time it takes to produce and reproduce themselves is so brutal is that the weekend feels like just enough time to get back on my feet, but before i can start stretching out and pursuing my own interests, i’m knocked down again
and frustratingly, it instrumentalizes my so called “free time”. i couldn’t tell you why, but my entire life i have been deeply preoccupied with having autonomously determined free time; i have been and continue to be profoundly disquieted by its absence.