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Do What You Love

Do What You Love Do What You Love 3 Jil l Mc D onough Do what you love, they said. The money will follow, they said. They didn’t say what the money should follow, or who. Poor money, lost money: money must have been so much confuse! One money, twice, eleven monies, four: money trying to keep it together, ragged flock of non-native stragglers, lollygaggers, each losing their buddy, special follow-time friend. Money talks, but not like I do. Poor monies, mute ESL-speaking lost souls. Do what you love and the money will follow. Until it gets distracted, follows somebody else! Until love doubles back, shrugs money off its trail. Money follows love like good money after bad. Bad money! Mad money, bad habits, dying hard. Do what you love, they said, but what if what you love is watching Die Hard for the dozenth time? When maybe you can’t sleep? Look at poor Bruce Willis’s poor bloody feet: pause it there, make popcorn with nutritional yeast, talk about how there must be some sneakers somewhere in that building. But no. Alas! There wasn’t any time. No time for shoes? Baby needs a new pair of shoes; mama don’t work for free, Sandra says. Time is money, they said, and you are profligate, spendthrift, a lazy-ass wastrel, leaning in doorways, on bars, leaning back on Wright’s hammock, again and again. Again. Lolling, lollygagging, shrugging when they I know you must be very busy, grinning when they sigh how busy they are. Busy! Not so much! Because you do you, baby; keep doing what you love: nothing. Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is oh, nothing. Nothing much. The Baffler [no.26] ! 85 http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Baffler MIT Press

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Publisher
MIT Press
Copyright
© 2014 Jill McDonough
ISSN
1059-9789
eISSN
2164-926X
DOI
10.1162/BFLR_a_00289
Publisher site
See Article on Publisher Site

Abstract

Do What You Love 3 Jil l Mc D onough Do what you love, they said. The money will follow, they said. They didn’t say what the money should follow, or who. Poor money, lost money: money must have been so much confuse! One money, twice, eleven monies, four: money trying to keep it together, ragged flock of non-native stragglers, lollygaggers, each losing their buddy, special follow-time friend. Money talks, but not like I do. Poor monies, mute ESL-speaking lost souls. Do what you love and the money will follow. Until it gets distracted, follows somebody else! Until love doubles back, shrugs money off its trail. Money follows love like good money after bad. Bad money! Mad money, bad habits, dying hard. Do what you love, they said, but what if what you love is watching Die Hard for the dozenth time? When maybe you can’t sleep? Look at poor Bruce Willis’s poor bloody feet: pause it there, make popcorn with nutritional yeast, talk about how there must be some sneakers somewhere in that building. But no. Alas! There wasn’t any time. No time for shoes? Baby needs a new pair of shoes; mama don’t work for free, Sandra says. Time is money, they said, and you are profligate, spendthrift, a lazy-ass wastrel, leaning in doorways, on bars, leaning back on Wright’s hammock, again and again. Again. Lolling, lollygagging, shrugging when they I know you must be very busy, grinning when they sigh how busy they are. Busy! Not so much! Because you do you, baby; keep doing what you love: nothing. Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is oh, nothing. Nothing much. The Baffler [no.26] ! 85

Journal

The BafflerMIT Press

Published: Jul 1, 2014

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