wherein we spent weeks in NYC and then returned...
[S] was in an undisclosed super top secret location over the summer somewhere in fly-over country. I missed her terribly and despite the huge paychecks, I was bored to tears. To state the obvious, relationships are difficult and complicating [ironic sic].
[S]’s arrival in the city happily bifurcated the summer. The roommate came home early from visiting family and created an awkward moment. I can't help but think there are few contextual positives for us. The perpetual background drone is that I'm leaving California in a year.
I went to work most days; the commute from the lower east side involves a 40-minute trip to law-firm row along 6th Ave. Needless to say, I wander past some rather hipster-infested bars on the way home.
I was happy to be informed over the summer of what must be the most classy line uttered by a summer to a senior associate the night before having his office cleaned out in a decidedly ceremonious firing: You don't fucking know me; I'll fucking stab you!
By all accounts, the poor chap had spent the evening getting drunk and carrying on loudly about all the nasty things he wanted to do to the associate's attractive fiancée.
I spent a good deal of time on self-guided walking tours of real estate hot spots. Turns out, there’s not much I can afford even with a proper pay check. It must be hell to be poor in this city. I guess I’ll be back in a year in a part-time vaguely bohemian bourgeois incarnation.
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