Some celebration, or at least a footnote, is in order: It was one year ago today that I alighted for good or ill in the borough of Brooklyn to make my way as a writer/journalist/editor etc. in the city where these fields are still, despite the tectonic shifts in the business, thick with opportunity. The full-time gig has eluded me as yet, but I've managed to piece together a self-employed living as a freelancer and part-time copy editor at many and sundry companies. I still chafe at the schedule but the work has been, for the most part, stimulating and rewarding.
And yes, it was inhumanly hot a year ago, too—a nice introduction to the city, as it served as a kind of index for subsequent days: i.e., this one is better than, as bad as, or worse than that first sweltering day. I've cherished the good ones.
Tonight I'll go hear one of my favorite guitarists, Bill Frisell, accompany some silent films in Prospect Park. Celebrate Brooklyn, indeed.