OCCUPATION: Grad student, copywriter, lyrical composer, assistant to the stars, product developer for Pagrafe Purse Hooks and forthcoming travel memoir author. Jack of all trades, master of some…
LOCATION: Los Angeles by way of Seattle.
WHAT’S YOUR HUSTLE: My hustle begins around the year 1572, in Renaissance France, with the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew. I read Calvinist treatises. I get off hustling to the “total depravity of man.” When my graduate stipends run out, I write copy for luxury beauty brands and coordinate the lives of others with the help of Google Calendar. I love tall grass, cedar trees and furry woodland creatures. I dream of tide pools and microcosm. I like all things small: tadpoles, sunflower seeds and Micro Machines. Tiny bottles of perfume, marbles, dollhouses and molecules.
WHAT DOES YOUR HUSTLE MEAN TO YOU: My hustle exists at the atomic level. I’ve stolen so many electrons, that most of the time, I can hardly remember who I am. I write it all down in my notebook, and sometimes a comic or a memoir manifests from the pieces. I love particles! (But not particle pollution). My favorite grammatical structure is currently the “partitive,” although the universe is expanding, so that may change.
IF YOU COULD HAVE ONLY THREE TOOLS FOR YOUR HUSTLE, WHAT WOULD THEY BE: Jean Calvin, the French poet Pierre de Ronsard, and that hot boy that inspired a hundred folk songs (he’s like the tree that just keeps giving–endless fodder for creative works).
A WORD OF ADVICE TO WANNABE HUSTLERS IN YOUR FIELD: Start by reading, “Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature,” by Erich Auerbach. Then apply to grad school in French, Philosophy or Comparative Literature. With a Master’s degree, you (nearly) have the credentials to be a personal assistant (just takes some fudging on your résumé). It’s perfectly normal to end up in a psychiatric holding facility along the way. If you find yourself in a verisimilar situation, and must read something to pass the time, steer clear of André Breton’s “Nadja,” or any of the Surrealist manifestos. Reach for a sexy Cosmo mag, if they have one, take your medicine and watch a little t.v. You probably should have just done this in the first place.