Sirens in the District

I know it’s becoming a bit cliché to describe modern life within the context of colorful mythology. But the Cohen Brothers didn’t trademark it… and I think it’s the best way to aggrandize the pseudo-adventures of a somewhat ambitious college grad.
……….
“Have you heard of Sisyphus before?”
“Umm… Yeah. I mean, I went to the orientation presentation about practicing safe sex and all.. but what does that have to do with this?”
“Not syphilis… Sisyphus. He was this guy that got sentenced to rolling a boulder up a mountain, and it just keeps falling to the other side after he gets to the top. He has to keep doing it over and over again.”
“Man… That sounds absolutely awful. Did he have a lawyer? That’s definitely against his 8th amendment rights.”
“It’s ancient Greek.”
“Oh….”
“Look, Mark, my point is after a while, you gotta just say ‘forget about it.”
This was, more or less, the conversation I had with my academic advisor after failing multiple midterms during my freshman year at Duke. I’m still not sure if he was telling me to “forget about” the boulder and drop out of school, or just realize the futility of my efforts and keep on keeping on. I figured it was the latter or else he probably wouldn’t have been employed by the university.
………..
After graduating in May I’ve been in midst of a hardcore job search. With each cover letter and resume sent out, the ancient mythology of Sisyphus seemed more and more modern. The process started to feel pointless because inevitably I would get automatic replies from companies that basically said: “Are you serious? Do you think we’re actually hiring? Look at the Business section of the newspaper, dumbass. The economy sucks. Oh, and only use one tense in your resume”.
….
“Other than that, Icarus, how was the flight?”…
I keep wondering if the ‘outrageous ambition’ I learned at Duke is going to be my downfall, continuously giving me false hopes of landing a dream job.
At a recent job interview with one of the leading Democratic media firms in the country, I was told by my potential boss, “You picked just about the worst freaking time to ask for a job in history. I wish I could help you out. Hmm… Do you have any painting experience? Cuz I have a big house in Potomac and the walls could use some touching up.”
“Sir, I could easily change my resume to say that I have painting experience. I’d do it in a second if afterwards I can tell people that I performed an ‘internship’ with your company”.
“You’ve got a deal kid. And if you screw up the paint job, I’ll just throw you in the Potomac River and tell the authorities it was a drug deal gone bad. With your age and all, they’d believe me too!”
I laughed to keep from crying, and to prevent a trip down the river Styx. (Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto?).
……
When I recently sent an email to somebody to find out more info about a Focus Group that pays money to find out people’s opinions about Fast Food, I somehow accidentally signed up for a daily junk email. It’s always just a stream of random words. I guess it’s to fool any SPAM-filter on my computer. It always makes me laugh out loud. Here’s the most recent one:
strategic deborah butyl ingrown parolee pease adenosine carl appendix metallurgic pollution mommy preferential vouch earthquake candide wherein trajectory cupid coinage gallup menopause inversion atkinson unanimity acquaintance possessive .
……
Orpheus walks the streets of the District of Columbia:
“It’s Blelvis man!”
“What’s up yo?”
“It’s me, Blelvis. The Black Elvis! Blelvis!”
“I don’t know you bro.”
“Damn. Look yo, Elvis has over 1,079 songs in his catalog. I happen to know every single one of them by heart. If you will kindly request one I shall sing it for you”.
“Umm. That’s ok bro. I don’t need any Elvis in my life right at this moment. Maybe later though.”
“If you can’t think of a song title, volunteer a word and I will do free association and sing you a song that references the word you choose”….
It took every ounce of restraint in my body to keep from saying to Blelvis, “Ok, I’d love to hear a song about: ’strategic deborah butyl ingrown parolee….”
I didn’t though. I thanked Blelvis and walked away.
I heard Sirens in the District and continued into the night….