What do you do with a drunken sailor?

So, I got fired. A month ago, but I'm only really gathering the steam to be truly, deeply pissed about it now that I'm back from holiday and looking for a new job.
The reasons given me when I got fired were almost verbatim the reasons I was told I was hired for three months before that.

Thinking outside the box.

A fresh take.

Passionate.

A little bit tongue-in-cheek.

Had become:

Too far outside the box.

Not on the same page.

Argumentative.

Cynical and patronising.

The steel they sought me out for turned into the sword I was to fall on.

Of course politics played its part too - whenever a superior repeatedly calls you 'bolshie' and 'cocky' without a trace of endearment, something is clearly rotten in the state of Denmark. But I digress...
I am now more pissed than ever before because I'm facing the very sobering prospect of returning to retail work. Or worse still (god help me) hospitality. I was dumped with no warning, and before I'd been at this monolith long enough to have a showstopping resume or the contacts to nepotise (?) my way into another gig.
But I've had the taste now, and the only work I ever want to do again is writing. Like half of the rest of the Western world. But I've had a taste dammnit! A taste!
Ah well, what do you do with a drunken sailor, eh?