I AM1 that which Communism and Capitalism competed for. I am that which the worker, especially the worker who "can't stop" working or is "workaholic" works for. That the worker who worked and died worked and died for. That the soldier who fought and died fought and died for.

I AM (of) the supplement2 of all that amassed capital. I am the neglected, unacknowledged ludic duty of the post-Calvinist billionaire.

I AM Money: a medium of exchange--alchemical, metaphorical, expressive.

Individualistic. Between metaphier and metaphrand.

I AM the gratuity, the (meristematic) tip, a promise that there is enough love in the world, and this is a factotem.

I AM luxury: surplus base. Or shit.

I AM a higher order of money. And shit.

I AM a human dividend.

I MYSELF AM a kind of thumb: a single opposing digit on the Invisible Hand of the Market . Or is it a hand of the invisible market?3 Or is it coming out of hiding, with the trend of "outing?" Is it a handout? Or am I coming out of a hiding, the heavy hand of my father? The visible hand of the market, what sort of hand is it? Is its "owner," the rest of its person, benign?4

I AM the meaning of the Industrial System.

I AM the Quality of the Industrial System.

I WENT FORTH. Strode, rode, worked, played in my Democracy.

I AM "the"/a Son of Man5.

I AM, then, a/"the" living jewel in our Precious Setting, this awesome Industrial Enframing in successive re-framings, re-vampings.

I AM the quiddity, the "variation and ornament" Beethoven called "the essence of composing."

I AM NOT interested in changing my genus to that of the "industropods."