My pursuit to avoid any honest work (by which I don’t mean that I am a denizen on the wrong side of the law, but rather something more romantic like I don’t want to work a shitty job my whole life to pay for all the shitty things I’ve acquired just to feel a little bit of agency when really I’d be just a pig tied to a stick) has most recently lead me to slinging vintage for minimum wage in San Francisco’s Mission District. This is good because I have had the opportunity to meet just about every wingnut this side of Market street, and also because I have an appreciation for well-made things. Plus this will directly fund some adventures and stave off the wonderful people at Sally Mae.


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