Let's Bring This Back to Livejournal With Some Whining

So I'm listening to Mike Doughty sing about walking along the Williamsburg Bridge, leaning over and thinking 'Hey man, this is Babylon.' I've never walked along the Williamsburg Bridge, for the record. Never walked over any of the Brooklyn-Manhattan bridges, actually. I don't even think calling something 'Babylon' is a compliment. And yet here I am, totally fucking nostalgic and bummed about how my immediate future is not in New York City, a place I spent a solid five years of my life absolutely trashing. I even wrote in some entry on Oh Em Gee that NYC is, and here I quote myself (fun!), "huge, loud, rude, dirty, ugly, and dehumanizing," none of which is exactly untrue (although calling it ugly is unfair; it's really only ugly compared to Montreal. It's better-looking than Philly or Chicago, for sure), but which is definitely a way to hide that I miss that fucking place. I've lived in five cities in the past three years, and NYC was the only place where I quite literally got punched in the face. But NYC was also the last place I lived that really felt like home, felt like me--it's partly a geographic thing, I guess, since the city is only a couple hours from where I grew up, but it's also a cultural thing. I felt like the people I met there, the people I knew there, the things I did there, the work I did there, that's who I am.

Maybe it's also because NYC was the last place I lived while I really felt like my life was going somewhere. I was doing my internship at Gizmodo at the time, just out of school, and things were happening very, very quickly. One day I was smoking pot at noon on a Wednesday while a Montreal blizzard raged outside, and the next I was writing my first feature, working with my first editor, making a difference in the first job I've ever really cared about. And then my internship finished, the world economy collapsed, the publishing industry imploded (selfish bastards), and I moved back to Montreal, dispirited and discouraged. Ever since, I've been employed, but never full time; I've been occupied, but never busy; and everything just felt kind of stagnant. So maybe I'm just longing for that feeling, the feeling of doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing, exactly when and where I'm supposed to be doing it. Maybe I'll get that feeling in San Francisco, too. I mean, I'll be working full time there, with more responsibility than I've ever had before, doing things I've never done before. But I can't seem to shake the feeling, especially after a couple months in Chicago (where I never even began to feel comfortable, not that it's fair to expect such a thing in two months), that goddammit, NYC is where I should be.

This is a whole lot of fucking whining. I really hope nobody remembers this blog exists. In case anybody does actually read this (and I'll be checking StatCounter, just in case), I'm fully aware that I'm being silly. It's a really nasty recession, and I've been offered an awful lot of money to move to California and write, from home, in my undies, pretty much whatever I want, at age 23. It might not be 100% perfect, but I feel like it's way closer than any other job I could get. Other jobs have pants requirements. Other jobs wouldn't let a snotty writer call Steve Jobs a white supremacist because he, and probably nobody else, thinks it's funny. Other jobs don't let employees call in "sick" with a hangover. And more than a few of my friends, people brighter and more ambitious than I, have gotten absolutely fucked over in the last year. Some haven't been employed in months, some since school finished, and others have had to take jobs they hate. I haven't. I've been lucky. I'm a whiner, what can I say.

I'll have fun in California, I'm sure, even if I may have to live in Oakland to avoid the hippies that bothered me so much the last time I was there. I've even possibly lined up an NYC-expat roommate. I hope this comes off as more introspective musing than insufferable whining. It's a fine line with me sometimes, I think. But I'm interested that I'm having such a strong reaction to seeing NYC removed as a possibility, even just for a year. Anyway, I'm going to post this, and check it in the morning. If I'm embarrassed tomorrow, which I kind of think I will be, I'm pulling it.

Is Babylon a compliment? Wikipedia says it means "Gateway of the Gods" but that my people use it to mean "confusing." Mike Doughty probably meant the latter, even though he's a more vocal New Yorker than anyone I know.

Summer 2008 Timeline

Montreal.
June 3: Take unbelievably anticlimactic last final exam.
June 4-8: Pack up apartment, tearful goodbyes.
Pennsylvania.
June 8: 10-hour drive to PA with the family.
June 9: Eat cheesesteaks, watch MTV.
NYC.
June 10: Train to NYC, get into new apartment in Bed-Stuy at 11 PM.
June 11: First day of work.
June 12-July 3: Work full-time, though mostly from my own bed.
Pennsylvania.
July 4-6: Celebrate America's birthday by watching acquaintances from high school play beer pong. Feel less than thrilled about the Land of the Free.
NYC.
July 7: Mugged. Sucks.
July 11: Move from serious ghetto Bed-Stuy to serious yuppie Brooklyn Heights.
Photographic evidence:

Skyscrapers and Everything

Okay so yeah, there are big changes afoot. A list of things I said I'd never do and have now either done or will do:

1. Move to New York City
2. Buy and/or use a Mac
3. Live in a house without a TV
4. Take a job that requires me to start working at 7 AM
5. A fucking Mac? Really? Who am I?

Even though every one of you jerks that reads this knows what I'm doing, I'll write it out because I'm a writer now and that's what I do. I write. Words.

I'm working for that most bloggish of blogrings, Gawker Media, on one of their more respectable sites, the nerd-fest of electronic gadgetry that is Gizmodo. All the Gawker blogs work out of the same office, a giant loft of exposed brick and chrome and black plastic and glass up in Soho, which I've been assured is a real place. I still have no idea where anything is or what it's called, clearly. More exciting is that I'm living not just in Brooklyn but in Bed-Stuy, birthplace of:

1. Illustrious rappers, including Biggie, GZA, Talib Kweli, Busta Rhymes, Fabolous, and Jay-Z
2. Actors, including Chris Rock, Jackie Gleason, and Vanessa Williams
3. Director Spike Lee
4. Judge Judy.

I haven't gotten shot yet, but, you know, fingers crossed!

New York is okay, I think. It's fucking hot as balls and my apartment doesn't have air conditioning, and it's unmanageably big and rent is retarded and I can't leave my bike locked outside overnight and everyone has this attitude like if you don't live in this city you're some country bumpkin. But on the other hand, it kind of is the center of the universe, which is a fun thing to experience. There are lots of silly hipsters to laugh at, the metro is surprisingly solid, the beer is good and the grocery store around the corner sells sofrito and wooden barrels of live crabs from the ocean.

Enn Why See: B+ after four days.

I'd write more about Gawker, and trust me I already have ridiculous stories after only two and a half days of work, but I think they like firing people for talking shit on personal blogs so I'll hold off. I will, however, take a few pictures tomorrow and post them up, so check back. Bye y'all.

WEEKLY "THE HILLS" UPDATE

A SoCal Christmas!
Heidi is All About Beach Safety
Heidi "Singing" and "Dancing"
With These Clothes and a Few Hundred Headbands, You Can Look Just like LC!

Next week:

The crew goes to Vegas for Brody's birthday in what looks kind of like the house from the Las Vegas Real World season. If I get that right I'll really be more embarrassed than pleased. Expect at least one use of "whatever happens in Vegas..." and probably some great drunken girl-talk between LC and Audrina.

Elodie quits. Heidi seems hurt, although I can't imagine why and it's probably just the editors fucking with me.

LC and Lo don't get along with ol' Jabesy, who's back for another episode (thank god). Audrina then cries about her relationship and defiantly says "I'm done!" just like she did that other time.

And oh shit, the big bombshell of the teaser (that seems to give the entire episode's twist away!): BRODY AND LC BACK TOGETHER! There's some near-autistic dialogue about a birthday kiss and then HOLY FUCK THEY'RE KISSING ON SOME SORT OF DAYBED, OR MAYBE A COUCH WITH LOTS OF PILLOWS OR SOMETHING!

And just in case you're scared of links,

L'SHANA TOVAH

Welcome to the new year, Jews and others! For Rosh Hashanah I mostly got drunk and went through my list of Hebrew phrases to yell at gentiles. It didn't take very long, so by about 9 PM I was just counting from 1 to 10 over and over. Then yesterday I half-fasted (halfasted? halfsted?) by getting drunk AGAIN and then apologizing to G-d for, among other things, dating a Catholic girl and forgetting to floss every day. He says we're cool and that beer doesn't count when you're fasting because it makes you hungrier, thus increasing suffering and making me a really great Jew overall. Then we high-fived in spirit and I watched the hockey game.

I watched the Battlestar Galactica finale with Mollie the other day and really liked it, but I seriously don't know how much more nerditude I can handle before I explode in a flash of pocket protectors and snort-laughs. All the casual drug use and knowledge of gangsta-rap in the world won't help me be cool if I'm talking about the mythology of the final five cylons and their relation to the first cylon-human war on the planet Caprica. Then I push my glasses up my nose and talk about Linux.

I have become functionally illiterate, thanks to my English lit degree. I know some people may think that just because I'm best fucking friends with literary superstars and I talk nonsense about wanting to work in editing that I can or do actually read, but it's not true. I've spent the last three months reading fifty pages of the new Michael Chabon book, which I actually really like but every time I pick it up I just think about how much I'd rather be watching the Hills. Then usually I put it down and watch the Hills. LC, why won't you come to Montreal and fall immediately in love with me?! I can spike my hair in stupid ways and shave my beard into an ugly chinstrap if that's what you want!

I'm gonna start doing a "LINKS!!!!!!" section on here because my life is really not that interesting. So let me direct you to things that are!

LINKS!!!!!!

http://www.avclub.com/content/feature/primer_canadian_indie_rock
http://www.avclub.com/content/hater/mary_kate_olsens_voice_is_almost
http://www.mountain-goats.com/forums/read.php?2,11195
http://indieguitartabs.com/

And for fuck's sake, if you're not Mollie, Carolyn, or Byron, click on their links up at the top there.

Things I Like

So I'm going to turn this blog from an account of my political summer into more standard bloggy territory: an account of things I like! This is partly due to my dishonorable discharge from the employ of not one but TWO liberal political entities, and partly due to my being stuck down here in the deep south. Did I mention that my life in Montreal has caused me to view everything further south than Boston as a disgusting melange of lynchings, white people, fanny packs, and chicken-fried steak?

I've made it my mission to do as many ultra-Amurrican things as I can while I'm here. This includes smoking seriously the most godawful cigarettes I've ever dreamt of in my darkest nightmares, because they cost about three bucks and are covered with American symbols. Flags? Eagles? Minimal health warnings? They're USA brand and they feel like I'm inhaling poisonous, deadly freedom. I should mention that Canadian cigarettes cost as much as a compact car and are plastered with warnings like "THIS PRODUCT WILL KILL YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN AS SOON AS POSSIBLE," followed by a picture of some malnutritioned Mexican babies. My USA brand cigarettes don't have any of that bullshit, only some tiny print saying "uhhh, hey dude, if you're pregnant, the surgeon general thinks maybe you shouldn't smoke these." Luckily for me, my womb is baby-free and so my lungs are full of nicotine and tar!

Other things I like: watching some TV series I've already seen and spoiling it for other viewers by quoting inane trivia at them until they beg for mercy. Sorry, friends, but the fact that Rob Lowe is first in the West Wing credits because he was originally supposed to be the main character is TOO IMPORTANT to keep secret any longer! I must divulge this information and distract you from whatever banal plot developments are transpiring!

Also liked (by me): defiantly pronouncing the letter Z as "zed." Yeah, I thought at first that this was one more piece of evidence that the Canadians will never tire of sucking the Queen's cock, but it's grown on me. I attribute this growth to the problem of the last letter of my last name. When pronounced in the proper fashion (zee), Canadians think my name is Nosowitc. I've gotten so much fucking mail addressed to Daniel Nosowitc. Who the balls looks at that and thinks it's a real name? So I'm forced to believe that our not-so-tolerant northern neighbors are pressuring me into changing the singsong way I pronounce my name! The most basic parts of me are being taken over by a snowy menace from above! So now, Pennsylvanians give me that look I've grown so used to lately: the "hmm... you ain't from around these parts, is ya?" look of disdain and curiosity. But mostly disdain. Contributing to this problem is the fact that I don't dress like Pennsylvanian college students (no Abercrombie or Hollister? No running shoes? No cargo shorts? WHO IS THIS GUY AND WHAT PLANET DID HE FLY IN FROM?!). The clerk at Trader Joe's asked me my zip code and I said my Canadian one, just for fun (H2X 3H7). She started typing it, then realized that something's odd about it. "Where are you from?" she suspiciously asked. "Oh, um, Montreal," I replied. "Oh. Well, I'll give you a local zip code, okay hun?" she responded. THANK YOU FOR YOUR GENEROSITY MISS USA!

Honestly though, the Main Line is a pretty attractive place. I'll throw up some pictures to give you guys an idea of the deep-green semi-southern lushness of this humble 'burb. Just as soon as I figure out how to post pictures in this damn adult bloggin-program.

This first picture is taken from the driveway of some woman I canvassed, about ten minutes from my house.


This next one is part of my backyard, taken over by my dad's botanical experiments. That chair is my book-readin' area.


And here are some goddamn fucking deer, or as we salt-of-the-earth folks call them, "overgrown rats." They are a menace to society. I'm not joking about this at all, deer are legitimate man-killing traffic accidents waiting to happen and all my tree-hugging liberalism doesn't stop me from supporting anything that could wipe the furry bastards off the face of the earth.


Click all the pictures to enlarge, and I'd really recommend clicking on the deer picture. That's not bad photography skills that made those deer eyes glow, that's their EVIL INNER NATURE SHINING THROUGH.

I Can Abbreviate "Main Line" With my Fingers

It's four in the morning and frankly, you people haven't left enough comments to warrant much of an update. You understand that I measure your love for me in number of comments left, right?

I had a pretty Main Line day, including a game of beer pong while Dispatch played in the background, those tree-hugging honky-ass hippies. I found myself mired in the same drama I remember from high school, only now it seems hilarious and not CRUSHINGLY LIFE-CHANGING IMPORTANT ARRRR. Something about the birthday boy doesn't want me at his party, and that I apparently am kind of a cock sometimes. Also everyone thought I had long been hooking up with this friend of mine, which makes me think maybe I could/should have been doing so. And then, in the middle of all this high school nonsense, I met this girl who wanted to talk to me about Don DeLillo and how Invisible Man is seriously fucking awesome and who displayed a proper level of awe when somehow (don't ask me!), McSweeney's came into the discussion. It was an odd little juxtaposition of where I'm at now compared with where I was.

I like myself a lot better now.



I really hope nobody was expecting an in-depth examination of my work field a la Graeme or Mike Dineen. Not that I've been intentionally leaving things out, but because I don't have any insight on the American political/electoral system that I didn't have before. I got called a commie for saying that maybe God wouldn't hate universal health care, and called in sick two days in a row. I wish I was getting my hands dirty dealing with real issues, but that's really not what campaigning's about. It seems so far to be about money above all else, not that I'm idealistic enough to be surprised or offended by that. I got promoted to Field Manager already, which means my pay is slightly less shitty and I have to lead someone even less experienced than myself around some days. I'm really digging for work-related stuff to talk about but it's really not that interesting. If anybody wants to COMMENT and ask a QUESTION because I haven't even really explained what I do all day, I'll answer.

PS: Who else thinks Nithya needs a goddamn blog right now?