Finally, some practical advice

As someone who first attended college during the panic of 1857, attempted grad school during the panic of 1873, considered PhD programs amid the Great Depression, wrote an unpublished dissertation on “How solipsism helps others” as the 1973 oil crisis reached its refined apex, and ultimately earned a BA in 2008, I know a thing or two about catastrophes. These were all similar times of consternation and disquietude. So I understandably want to impart some universal advice to the young people entering the real world following another global economic calamity. These aren’t just random moments in my life that might be helpful either. They are unquestioned and undisputed lessons that apply to everyone in every single situation.

Stop and smell the roses. But when you do, watch out for pollinators and rabid “mad dogs”, ready to pounce and destroy your delicate olfactory system.

Buy a pair of used rollerblades. Disinfect them, but not too much. You wouldn’t want them to lose that unspoken quality of blended foot funk and life experience. And when you lace them up (unless they’re Velcro), feel free to crowd the bike lane.

Learn the cello instead of the violin, take baths instead of showers. Why stand when you can sit?

Compare every smell you encounter with that of freshly cut grass.

Spot a rat scurrying across the subway tracks, deftly avoiding the notorious third nail. Name that rat, something short like Ned or Sal. Once you’ve got a name that rolls of the tongue like an overly pungent cheese, chase that same rat through an abandoned subway tunnel. Don’t stop until you come across the men and women who call these subterranean passageways home. Adapt to their way of life, learn their customs, critique their method of government. Go days without daylight.

Start a cult, join a cult, do something with cults.

Do the bare minimum whether in relationships, crossing the street or cleaning your apartment.

Clear your Internet history.

Provoke others by saying things like, "Shakespeare is so overrated," "The Beatles? Thanks, but no thanks," and "Nikola Tesla isn't really my cup of tea." 

Learn curse words in a few different foreign languages.

Eat an ice cream cone by biting off the bottom part and draining out the remaining melted liquid. Like life, it’s both weird and messy.

Line your shelves with canonical books you have no intention of reading.

Turn innocuous, borderline-meaningless phrases into useful barbs e.g. “Kiss a dancer”

Live off your trust fund for a while. Remember: you’re a member of New York City’s moneyed elite. A blue-blooded Knickerbocker with the pressed pantaloons to boot. Burn your savings until a Great-Uncle Reston, someone you’ve never met or heard of, shows up on your doorstep to give you a stern talking to.

Forget the past, ignore the present, avoid the future.

Any questions?