I’m know I’m not totally bitter, because I got my friends’ wedding invitation tonight, and it made me happy. OK, there’s an open bar, but that’s not why, I swear.
It’s been a good couple days for giving back. Smyres called me tonight and needed a Chicago Manual of Style for a freelancing gig. I have one, so I can help her out. And then we’ll get Mexican food. It’s not much, considering that I slept on her sofa for six months while I was moving to New York, but she was happy, and it was nice to feel like I’d stepped into the breech.
Last night, I met up with a friend of the family who just moved to New York. It hasn’t been that long since I did the same thing, and it’s really familiar territory: fear of failure, financial craziness, unfocused ambition, etc and so on. I almost felt bad. Basically, I’m gonna give this guy a couple of contacts and he’s going to make me feel like a big shot, which I’m clearly not. It’s not an even trade at all.
One of the reasons that this is my favorite city in the world is that the wheel never stops turning here. Less than a year after you arrive, you could be an elder statesman, full of wisdom to share. Or: You could be bankrupt. Either one. Maybe both.
Anyway, my year anniversary, figured by when I signed my first lease, is July 1. Not that far away. It feels like years and years. I have a job I love, and projects I’m interested in. Good friends, and all kinds of adventures. The next year could bring anything. I’ll let you know how it ends.
PS: One of the hundreds of suckers who came to look at my apartment today left his hippie energy drink on my counter. Fuck those people. I hope he takes the place. I’ll leave him a packet of poo.