“Everything I had built in the past 15 years just went up in smoke. It’s gone. I mean, what the fuck do I do now?”

My friend had gone through one of those tribulations that involved losing status within the community of artists he was a part of, losing his job on top of that, and flailing his now beaten down limbs in search of what he was supposed to do, who he was supposed to be, after the dust had settled.

I understood the feeling.

I'd argue this shift in perspective of a critical mass of people is the tipping point of true change in paradigm. The most effective form of protest is not marching in the streets en masse (which is great for visibility of the cause but traditionally pretty lousy at changing things) but simply opting out of a system you find objectionable.

Fuck your resume
Fuck what's gone
before

…that like a character in an improvised scene, a job should be treated like a lightly worn hat, instantly removed to reveal the true self whenever necessary.

…that there is a disconnect between the culture of #MeToo and the culture of bikini model influencers and I’d elucidate but my brain is addled by all the boooooooobs…

...that nothing is more desolate than an empty casino; nothing is more exciting than a full one. A whole room full of people buying bits of hope is a gas.

Are you Heller's Bob Slocum or Melville's Bartleby? Or someone in between the dismal acceptance of the grind and the refusal to comply with the demands that your existence is owed to the labor for something without regard for you?

I get it. Most of capitalism is driven by sales. Most sales are made by people selling things and ideas. The time-share thing here in Vegas. The guy on the street-corner with the spinning arrow sign trying to get you to come into the third-tier mobile phone store. The kid with the box of candy to raise money for his basketball team. All some variation on the theme of non-stop, unwavering sales.

The pursuit of happiness is inextricably wrapped up in the inevitable that sometimes you will fail in your pursuit. The pursuit of happiness often comes with great sadness and obstacles you encounter trying to attain your dream. But as Americans, we are at least given the hope that we can pursue something resembling happiness. It is so engrained in the fabric of our country that we mostly take for granted our freedom to make these choices. 

There is a sense of frustration and despair in the faces I see across tables in cafes and restaurants. A feeling of just keeping heads slightly above the encroaching tide. I believe that this sort of non-stop anxiety is incredibly unhealthy. I believe that swimming in it is a choice. As Sam Harris likes to say "Reframe." And as I like to say, "If you hate spending eight hours a day doing something that causes you to feel small or stupid or worthless, get the fuck outta there, bub!"

In the end, work is work. You sacrifice a piece of yourself to make enough dough to live. The question is how much of yourself do you give and for what return?