Remind me never to buy a car.
Leo Laporte on the Netscape.com/Digg crap that's been flying around. It's all very LiveJournal.
As I mentioned a couple of weeks ago, I recently switched jobs. This has meant, as it always does, settling into a new commute and a new weekday neighborhood. I was at my last job for about two years, during which time I got to know the Financial District pretty well. The staff at my favorite deli, the nearst Duane Reade, and the Starbucks downstairs all knew me as a regular (or at least knew my taste in coffee and sandwiches), and I was a little sorry to leave that behind and find myself wondering once again where to go for lunch or a drink.
But of course there's a perfectly good deli near my new office (and the inevitable Starbucks and Duane Reade), and when I stopped in this morning for my coffee, the guy at the counter asked me if I wanted my usual. Two weeks in the neighborhood, and I already have a usual - these are the things that make me like living in New York. The guy who makes my coffee probably serves coffee to thousands of people in any given week, and I've only been in there four or five times so far, but New York deli staff seem to have an uncanny ability to recognize a regular in the making.
That doesn't mean the people on the subway are any less obnoxious, though.
It's not even August yet, much less October, but I'm already positively squirming in anticipation of my favorite season. Every morning that I wake up and it's still hot out, I remind myself that July is the worst of it and July is nearly over. The end-of-season summer sales are especially encouraging, as are the fall catalogs that are starting to overwhelm my poor, undersized mailbox. It may be 92 degrees today, but by god fall is coming!
Next month, actually, it will be seven years that I've lived in New York. I moved here in August 1999 to start my freshman year at NYU, and I haven't left for more than a week or so since then. My first semester here I hated it - moving from a town of about 3000 people to a city of 8.1 million was something of a shock. Now, though, it feels like home. There are few neighborhoods in Manhattan I haven't spent considerable time in for one reason or another (work, school, various apartments), although the Village is likely to be my favorite one for the forseeable future. It may be too expensive and not as neat as it used to be, but it's where I've spent the bulk of my time here and I love it more than any other part of the city.
Here's a fun fact: since I moved here, I have not been to the Statue of Liberty. I went once when I was a kid on a trip with my family, but not since then. I don't feel any particular urge to go, either.
Yes, it's true. Check them out right here. Now, there are (as always) a few things to keep in mind: many of the images and pretty much all the internal links are still broken. I'm still tinkering and will have that stuff fixed eventually.
If this is your first trip through the magical journey that is my archives section, be warned. This shit goes back to when I was a mere nineteen years old and is suitably embarrassing, but I keep it available as a historical curiosity nonetheless. I remain glad, however, that the first year or so of the site's existence predates the archives altogether - I don't think you would have wanted to know me in high school.
Recent experience suggests that I need to add to my list of methods for Being a Dick on Public Transportation. This one is pretty straightforward and extremely effective: all you have to do is stumble onto the F-train platform at about 8:15 on a Monday morning, reeking of alcohol and body odor, and stuff yourself into a subway car that's already filled to capacity (and then some). Open a fresh can of Budweiser, dispensing with the usual brown paper bag. Then, as the train begins to move and you fail to find anything to hold onto, fall into the commuters around you and spill your beer all over me. Asshole.