The Great Escape, Part 1
Hello Metblogs New York City! You’re all probably wondering who your new writer is.
Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Everett, I’m a twentysomething resident of Bushwick, Brooklyn. I’ve lived in the ‘swick since December of 2006, and before that I was housing myself in a very tiny Williamsburg flat for a few years while I was wrapping up my service to higher education — and racking up semi-large amounts of student loan debt.
I enjoy coffee (especially Intelligentsia — hollah back Chicago), underground (like, in the basement loft) dance parties, vodka tonics at said parties, and more coffee. I bike to work every day, unless I’ve had too many vodka tonics the day before, or at least I will until it gets too cold in New York and my own snot starts to freeze to my face halfway over the Williamsburg bridge. At various points in my life I’ve been or wanted to be a contemporary dancer, journalist, photographer, photo-illustrator, and a photo editor. Right now I like writing short stories; these stories don’t make me money, nor does working at this blog. There’s something about working for free that’s just so much more fulfilling.
I also enjoy trees, nature, sitting in a kayak in the middle of a lake in upper Wisconsin with only the sound of frogs and a lone Loon circling overhead, sleeping on mountain tops upstate with friends, without tents, long hikes in, well, the wilderness with overcast skies and slightly damp earth, sitting on the edge of the ocean, alone or with a friend, and silently contemplating the grains of sand and their relationship with time and space, or the continuous pounding of waves across the shore. And I’m really incredibly upset that McCain’s vice-presidential choice Sarah Palin wants to kill the polar bears. Uh oh, I like things that aren’t concrete and more than twelve stories high! Ahhh!
All of this has lately brought me to this one sad conclusion over the last six or so months: Oh shit, what am I doing in this city? Aren’t I supposed to be rat-racing around with a pitchfork trying to make 60k a year in order to just pay my rent and eat at Moto once in awhile? Working 75 hours a week until my slave driver of choice turns a tidy profit? And breathing in epic amounts of carbon dioxide and other harmful chemicals? Conundrum.
So, I’m leaving this icky/filthy/smoggy city, as soon as I can. And thus I pitched Sean of Metblogs an idea. “Why don’t you let me be that blogger who is leaving?” I say — actually it wasn’t quite like that, but let’s pretend. “I have mad credibility!” I also said, in order to back up my pitch. And he said “that’s a great idea!” And now you have me here now. Theoretically I’ll be transferred the the Metblog in the city that I eventually move to.
Until I leave, I shall blog about the End of Times in New York City.