Everything you wanted
to learn at university
but didn't.

Don’t set your alarm. Plan on sleeping in, as late as possible. “The longer, the better,” you tell yourself as you switch off the lamp on the nightstand, as if it were a question of will. Wake up, nonetheless, after a few short hours, still night. Don’t reach for your phone. Don’t check the hour. If you do, it’s all over. You can forget about falling back asleep. Once your mind is back on the hamster wheel, there will be nothing to stop it from turning, nothing to stop the ax

Don’t just lie there on the cold ground, covered in snow. Roll over onto your side, at least, and, from there, into a sitting position. Notice, as you do so, how it stings, your side, the whole bony mid-hip region. Check, before doing anything else, your glasses. Make sure they are not broken. You can handle bruises, sprains, fractures even, but your glasses? No, not your glasses. They come first. So, tap your temples with a gloved hand to check. Wait, what? They’re not there

Do not try to compose an anthem for your generation. Get that idea out of your head. It is simply not how this works. Don’t worry about your clothes or haircut or any of the songs on the radio or any of your friends ’ bands. Focus instead on breakfast, on getting the temperature of the maté right, on buttering your toast with the correct amount of butter, on standing at the window for a few seconds and trying to get a feel for the weather. There is something in the air, somet

Write a letter, several of them. One to The Big Boss, heavy-handed, full-blooded, yet without misgivings, without grievance, without insouciance, one that enumerates The Reasons in painstaking detail. One to Arturo, more of a manifesto than a letter, one that confirms his worst suspicions, political in nature, concerning my generation’s repetition of his generation’s mistakes. One to Chip, a countercultural Pass-the-Torch letter that bequeaths to her the volumes of subversive