Welcome.

I hope it is not too pretentious for me to proceed with a brief ontology of this paper, spiced with thankyou’s and acknowledgements to those friends and comrades who helped make this project a reality (misshapen though it may be). I justify the ontology not because it’s interesting but to demonstrate how wayward a process writing a thesis is – if I am correct that the only people who will begin to read this are in the business of writing undergraduates theses themselves, then such a point may be well taken. I proceed with the acknowledgements not to acknowledge those who have had a small part in something incredibly beautiful (because, frankly, what proceeds is not something you're likely to find beautiful in many senses of the word), but because I'd merely like to indulge a few of my friends who'd like to see their names in print, and mortify those who do not.

This paper represents one stage in my continuing radicalization, a constant yet punctuated process. I first conceived of it during a directed reading the summer after my sophomore year with Rush, perhaps my first mentor at Stanford, on the history and philosophy of anarchist thought. At that point I would have titled it "The Anarchist Speaks of Love" – I had never even heard of the Situationists. Following that summer, I served my junior year as a College Assistant in the inaugural year of Freshman Sophomore College, where I received much encouragement from all my fellow staff members, particularly Kristin and Pete. I would like to thank them as well. By spring of 2000, I had decided to write a comparative analysis of Situationist theory and its practice by Adbusters Magazine, and had received a URO grant to work with Adbusters the coming summer. Alex, Jean-Marie, and Laura were instrumental in providing with me an introduction to Adbusters, an arsenal of Situationist knowledge, and a Major Grant, respectively. It was that summer, during and after my walks to buy burritos at lunch with James, that I realized I really didn't want to write about Adbusters. During Honors College, I cemented that notion and dropped Adbusters from my thesis proposal, after consultation and encouragement from Zack, Matt, Mi, and Lila. I then proceeded to neglect my thesis for the entirety of autumn quarter, spending the majority of my intellectual capital at EBF happy hours.

It was when John Giuliano welcomed me to the Salvadoran village of Guarjila that I wrote most of what follows. I wrote it in house of Amelia Bonilla, with the companionship of her children, David, Erik, and Yanni. I thank them from the most radically subjective parts of my humanity (you'll have to keep reading to make sense of that joke, I'm afraid).

It became clear to me during that trip, and the months that followed it, that I had entered a stage of my life where I would be learning primarily from people – from professors, priests, chefs, and farmers – rather than books. With that clarity came a corresponding drop in desire to be part of any academic ritual, especially one that undertook academic criticism of philosophers who hated the business of academic criticism. Zack and Matt, once again, kept me going, as did the small number of soon-to-be-disappointed people who lied and said they wanted to read it when done.

Vanessa is my best friend and Matt kept me honest from the beginning.

Last, I would like to recommend an immediate course of action to the reader. There is a book, A General Theory of Love, which you may read. I got it from the Vashon Island public library and so can you. The book is grounded in science, well-written, and organized – none of which I can honestly claim about my own. Nevertheless: I recommended it for its similarities in intent to what I have written below. The doctors who wrote A General Theory of Love never explicitly mention late capitalism and probably will never come across The Revolution of Everyday Life (unless I send them this...). But their point and my own are the same: we live in a culture (the spectacle) where love is lost (to alienation and reification), and we are nothing without it. I, personally, would read their book before my own.

In any case, thank you.

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