Monday, March 29, 2010
Well-Loved Yo-Yos
These are the troopers. The guys that take a beating, ask for nothing, and keep on rocking it, day after day. Their home is a pocket full of dagger-like keys, and they vacation on pure asphalt. When they get a burr, they don’t ask for anesthesia – they just grit their teeth as you file it on it down and then go up for another aerial over concrete with a smile. It’s a fantastic feeling to get a ding and think nothing of it – then you have become free to yo-yo in the most fun way possible – worry-free, light-hearted fun. As it should be.
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The production of types of value is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. I think it’s very interesting, and sad, how the monetary value attached to something like a yoyo, which positions it as a commodity and something of an abstracted value, seems to so powerfully dominate the use-value of yoyos … at least that’s the sense I get from all the concerns about dings and scratches and such. In other words, it’s interesting to think about how the value of a thing as a commodity can impede people’s ability to enjoy it.
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