and back, again.

I’ve contained a bubbling tirade for weeks, one where I justify removing a huge chunk of my Facebook friends list, rant endlessly about privacy and the illusion of our enclosed, social dam(n)s which have actually sprung dozens and dozens of information leaks to a wide sea of hungry life-as-comparison fish.  Not to mention the NSA-as-fisherman.  Did you see the latest privacy revision?  The one where anyone can find you by your name?  Stalkers, rejoyce!

TLDR: if we’re friendly and previously co-workers you should add me on LinkedIn.  I’ll write the best god damn recommendation you’ve ever seen.  If we were tight friends we’d probably be talking outside of Facebook on a regular basis, no?

AND BACK, AGAIN is what I titled this entry.  I'm back in New York.  Back in one of my best of friend's place... this time, without him.  It's odd because he's still here, and just beyond his musk is his entire point of reference - him living here for years numbering at LEAST I-can't-remember.  And me watering his plants.  (Probably too much.)

The device on her hip tells us we've walked 18,440 steps today, and I believe.  Leaning into the loud roar of this city has given me some needed short-term purpose, something to keep up with.  New York has no patience for patients.

This is my home, my new place to work for the next month.  This trip marks a certain responsible return to the workplace of the free - said without irony, even.  I've realized that my dream gig allows me to spend quality time with the latest of my sick newborns, and that any amount of brick-meets-headwound is absolutely worth being light on my feet.  It's harder to see when you're trapped in the undertow of "being the new guy".

TLDT: Marketing is everything, kids.  I've had dreams of YouTube, of angles and hooks and minimizing blood loss.  The cold reality of capitalism is that the sale has far more meaning than the meaning itself.  If I am to become successful I've got to make the people see what I see.