Unemployment Object Memoirs: A Tribute to Last Thread

I decided to write thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to Last Thread.

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Dear Last Thread,

Last Saturday, after spending 72 hours mourning the death of very promising cure to my unemployment, I decided that my life should take a more spiritual path, and embarked on a soul-searching journey through the mystifying wonders of the world. Last thread, it was beautiful! I saw things I never thought possible: monks dancing in the street, artists debating existentialism, labyrinths of streets containing people from all walks of life, and beautiful views of earth’s greatest waterfronts. Sadly, after running into a fat tourist with a Magnolia cupcake, I realized I had only made it to the West Village.

Dejected, I wandered into a tea shop on 7^th Ave South that only serves coffee, and sat down to ponder the meaning of my existence once more. But this got boring really quickly. As I got up to eat the cupcake I stole from the fat tourist, I heard a voice behind me say something very poignant, “It looks like you’re hanging on by one last thread.” Indeed I was, last thread, indeed I was. I started to explain how my life, like cupcake, had come crumbling down, when the voice (contained in 40 year-old woman), said, “No no. I meant your jeans. It looks like they are hanging on by one last thread.”

That’s when I discovered you, last thread. It appears that since I have been wearing the same pair of jeans every day for the past four months, the entire lining disintegrated into a fine dust, save you. Much like the proverbial last thread holding my brain together, you, last thread, are the only thing holding my pants together. Pants, head. Head, pants. Whilst eating fat tourist’s cupcake, I decided to author this letter, last thread, in an effort to commemorate my spiritual journey through the grandiose depths of Christopher Street by connecting proverb and literal through rhetoric…what the hell am I talking about again?

Anyway last thread, I realize that you have done your job splendidly, and it’s the rest of pants’ fault that everything fell apart. I realize that despite your resolve to work hard, play by the rules, stay current, and plan ahead, pants just crapped out. And now you are literally hanging on by a thread, trying to do the work of an entire failed system. But if you could find it in your heart to push past this overt metaphor comparing pants to a failed capitalist economy, and regenerate a few thousand times, I would greatly appreciate your hard work once more. An NYU undergrad just threw up next to me, and the rent for this booth is $1300 a month, so I need to get out of here like now.

With poorly drawn literary devices,

Mala