This HuffPo essay is an artifact of such hathotic perfection that I will barely excerpt it, out of respect for its purity. You simply must experience it in all its delectable, Not-The-Onion awfulness. The story: a hipster moves from the Midwest to seek her fortune in New York City, establishes herself as a DJ, but, finding that her choices have failed to make her rich, rails against the Unfairness Of It All. Who, oh who, would have imagined that la vie boheme would fail to result in bourgeois stability for those who choose it?
O Fortuna, I praise thee for delivering this pensee into the Prytania Theater of my mind. Who am I that I have merited reading lines like this?:
This summer I tried to rent an apartment in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. The process sent me into an emotional crisis and awakened me into a whole new realization of our economy, the music industry at large and, more specifically, what it means to be a queer artist in 2011.
Quivering, I am! But wait, there’s more, in her denunciation of the robber baron landlord who judged her a bad tenant risk based on the fact that, well, she has no regular paycheck. She also suspects he’s a homophobe — this, aside from the fact that one is rather unlikely to run across a landlord in NYC’s most hipster-heavy neighborhood who refuses to rent to gay people. Nevertheless, this unnamed cretin is plainly History’s Greatest Monster! Here:
Because when he met me he saw a tattooed gender outlaw who makes “queer electronic punk music” and isn’t sure when the next check is going to come in? Yeah, I don’t blame him. He doesn’t give a shit about how kids email me all the time thanking me for keeping them from committing suicide. It’s not part of his capitalist business practice.
Read the whole thing. The author is honest enough to admit that her parents had a point when “they supported my dreams but continually suggested having other interests or skills,” but ends by saying that her travails are why Wall Street needs to be occupied. Golly. I might need to apologize to Herman Cain after all.
In all seriousness, I am sorry that this young woman is hurting economically, but the idea that the choices she made to enter into a highly unstable artistic career for the sake of having fun and “living activism,” and now finds that she’s insecure, is the fault of capitalism — well, it’s just childish. She was a Romantic; reality, as reality is wont to do, has made her a Realist. Who could have foreseen that it’s rarely possible to live as an artist on society’s radical edge, and get rich (absent an NEA grant, I mean)? Who, oh who? That’s the thing about modern Bohemians: they want the thrill of living like artists and rebels, but not the risk. Adult children, is what they are, and not to be confused with many, many others who took the more responsible route, but are suffering joblessness all the same.
UPDATE: Here is a video of DJ Samson performing with her band. How is it that people who make music like that failed to become rich and successful? I blame homophobic capitalists. And Herman Cain.
UPDATE.2: Will Wilkinson dismisses Steve Jobs’s advice to undergrads to “do what you love.”:
As an undergrad I was an art major. Frankly, few of my fellow art majors were talented enough to make a living at it, even after four (or more!) years of training. Sure they loved art, but in the immortal words of Tina Turner, “What’s love got to do with it?” “Find what you love and never settle for less” is an excellent recipe for frustration and poverty. “Reconcile yourself to the limits of your talent and temperament and find the most satisfactory compromise between what you love to do and what you need to do feed your children” is rather less stirring, but it’s much better advice.
But that’s soooo bourgeois!