Man oh man the job search of which you write is weird.
A little bit I don’t know what to write back to that, because it’s a problem I myself have been grappling with in my back-in-NYC life, or was starting to realize I’d eventually have to grapple with, and I more or less bailed on the question.
The dregs of this bullshit croque monsieur (DID THEY EVEN BUTTER THE BREAD??) on the plate in front of me, the eye I’m trying to keep through the front window on Kareem’s ex-boyfriend’s second-string bicycle, lent for the jaunt, the fact that I peed into some body of water from a tree earlier because they were charging €.50 for the WC in the train station: this is me bailing.