What are you going to do with the facts of life?
What are you going to with a fifty-year old serving you and your classmates beer? Or a janitor? Or a billionaire?
What are you going to do with hand-sewn leather slippers and pigeon shit on the bus station hand railing? With coffee stains and bad breath and middle age?
What are you going to do with individual agency and systematic oppression? What are you going to do with how no matter how badly you were wronged, nobody is going to understand or make allowance for your suffering?
What are you going to do after you graduate and get laid? What are you going to do with day after day after day after day after day after after day of after day after day after day of work?
What are you going to do with JFK? With murdered and missing aboriginal women and Pentatangweshe? The Twin Towers and stateless refugees? Western Mustangs and public murals in pick and blue and grey?
What are you going to do?
