July 15, 2012 § 2 Comments
The rapidity w/ wh/ any conversation w/ friends turns to exhausted examinations of life-chances, jobs, applications, internships, the rigours of unemployment, the groundnote rising to a swarming host of overtones of We’re fucked, We know why we’re fucked, We’re fucked b/c the whole fucking system’s fucked & the damage is being socialised (except of course for the social betters we never meet), We may yet be tipped into employability but hope isn’t that strong such that seeing friends turns to a task, as it might have felt, he thinks, in the 30s. That “now we know there’s no future” & are forced to the question “what are we going to do about it” isn’t, even for revolutionary Marxists, isn’t a comfort to know. In his dread & misery concerning graduate unemployment, in his last year as an undergraduate, when strikes & police intimidation hadn’t touched his sleepy campus, for wh/ he grew more & more unpopular, he was at least ahead of the curve. He used to prognosticate; now he just drinks.