Come to me, rest your many heads against my breast, close your bleary eyes—we’re going to get through this shitty-ass economic time together.
We’re about to hold each other in a close embrace…for a long while…probably to the point of awkwardness.
Then, we’ll pop a collective Xanax and once it kicks in we’ll “sack up” and work as waiters and nannies and non-profit canvassers and telemarketers and administrative assistants—it’s what people in our position have always done, even in the days before the free market imploded.
So take that shit job, drink that $2.00 bottle of wine, cling to those you love like an owl grasps a field mouse—really dig your talons in.
Read some David Foster Wallace (or what please you) and keep breathing! Live! LIVE!
P.S. Don’t even think about rejecting that unpaid internship—it’s the only thing that that will keep your brain from atrophying this year.