A New York State of Mind

Ah yes, here we are: early June. It’s certainly been a while since my last entry, and I’m sure hundreds of some people who are actually spambots that fill my comment cue with solicitations for knock-off Viagra have wondered what became of me. Well, to be succinct, I did it. I made it to New York and I’m a writer on the  account at Razorfish. On top of that, I have a fantastic apartment in Battery Park City with an unobstructed water view of the mouth of the Hudson River, Ellis Island, and the Communipaw Terminal. Even as I write this, I’m perched high above the water, watching cruise ships, sailboats, and immodestly sized private yachts glide on by.

You might wonder about the “” in the previous paragraph. That, of course, is due to the 87 different nondisclosure forms I signed upon being hired at Razorfish. Social media being what it is and me being among the gearhead-ier users of social media, it’s best that the opinions I express online not be directly linked back to the client, who happens to be one of the world’s leading automotive manufacturers—which is all I can say, really. That said, I’d never disparage  one way or the other now that I’m working on their behalf, but that’s not to say that I might not utter something nice about a company other than  every once in a while.

Ah, but it’s ok. In spite of my not being able to mention  in print, I’m in a very, very good spot. I get up at 5:30 in the morning, eager to go to work. I spend my day espousing on the auto industry, channeling the emotional aspects of what it means to take pleasure in the act of driving, and being gently made fun of for (as my boss, Reid, puts it) my “impossibly literate entrees into tales of Cape Cod exploits.” When I get home, I sit on my porch, watching the sun set over the Hudson from the comfort of my rocking chair.

I’m in a good place these days, and if you’re not in the same spot yourself, hang in there—we’ll see each other soon.