Thurston Moore waxes poetic

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thurston_moore

Joey Ramone collage by Thurston Moore from the New Museum.

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I was listening to NPR and there was a segment on how the twenty-something folk are currently coping with the nation’s economic slump and lack of job security (and jobs in general). An unemployed Midwest-transplant/Brooklyn-newbie was interviewed about her “situation” and addressed all the fears that resonate in my mind and in the minds of my peers. How does one pursue ones dream without having even the most basic sustenance aka food or a home, met? Understandably, generations before have endured similar hardships, but this notion that “we’ll pull through like our forefathers”, feels pretty moot when one bill after another is thrusted in your face like Pennysavers. Even so, it’s comforting to know that we don’t necessarily have to put our plans and lofty aspirations on hold, that we just have to learn to budget better and to cut out excess. In NYMAG’s Intelligencer this week, Thurston Moore is was asked how poor he was “as a young artist”, and he said, “’I was living on onions and peanut butter and cigarettes. Cigarettes were a luxury. So was Ovaltine. Ramen didn’t exist in my day.’”

Damn, no ramen? That means, no Sriracha either. I guess things could be worse.

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