Christian: Christian probably best embodied the YM attitude, although sometimes I found myself wishing he’d take a firmer stance on his “image”: Was he the straight-up slacker, or the guy who pretended to be a slacker while actually completing his assignments properly and on time? He cared just the right amount about this internship, but caring less might have been a wiser move—not handing in certain assignments, or disappearing entirely in late July, could’ve made for some interesting reading. He’s also been working (I think) three jobs on top of what has to be the most demanding, cut-throat Tumblr blog internship around, which is admirable.
QED: QED is probably the winner of the YM internship. It was a highly competitive workplace environment—Christian just about broke down after QED’s 9/11 campaign won the YM Intern 9/11 Contest, and QED herself took up drinking as a way to ease the stress. (I was going to link to evidence, but all of her drunk Tumblr posts seem to get deleted.) Yet QED kept her cool throughout, routinely putting us interns to shame with jokes and writing and stuff. My only wish is that she’d gotten drunker—YM could use some more typos. (Then again, it might be hard to get those past YM’s pro-bono copy-and-paste editors.) Good stuff.
Not wanting to give unfair advantage or cause undue hurt feelings, I decided to evaluate my peers using a quiz from the official company handbook, YM Magazine. I determined that both Christian and Daniel are, indeed, “ready for a boyfriend”, if they so choose. In fact, both received the highest rating of “Ms. Well-adjusted McMaturity.” Here are a sampling of their responses. (Take the quiz for yourself here.)
Suddenly your 3 best friends are hooked up, and you’ve noticed a significantly greater number of nights when you have 0 plans. How do you fill the long hours? "Write a lot of terrible blog posts or maybe do push-ups!"
You made amorphous plans for tonight with your friends. When you meet up with them, it turns out they all want to go bowling, which you hate with a passion. What do you do? "These questions seem to be gaining intelligence." "Were you just impressed by the use of ‘amorphous?’ Irrelevant, moving on."
What do you imagine long-term relationships to be like? "I’ve never had a long-term relationship but one time I was talking to my friend Ethan about what I’d done in the last few weeks and he said like ‘You know I can’t really do that—I can’t disappear for days at a time. I kind of have to be accessible.’ But he seemed really happy about that like he was happy to always be accessible."
You started tutoring a 4th grader at the library every Saturday morning. How long do you keep it up? "I figure when the hangover shame happens for the 3rd week in a row I should probably just stop showing up."
QED: I was going to pick a song to represent each of the other interns, but I couldn’t find a song that conveyed “she amused me on GChat when I was bored.” So I dropped that plan. QED was the mysterious intern, with an unknowable life. She had the ability to talk to a statue, and she put enough work into her playlist to make sure they all had the same word in the title. Good work! I don’t honestly remember if anything she wrote annoyed me, but if it did, it wasn’t too badly.
Daniel: I’m hesitant to call any of us over-achievers on this internship, but Daniel was at least an achiever. Certainly compared to me. He got an actual interview! He tried really hard when volunteering! He’s been the most active on the mystery-intern-final-project. I don’t think he disappointed Andrew enough though.
“isWhen I look at people who are stars in the gay world — Margaret Cho or Kathy Griffin or even my most beloved Joan Rivers, who I adore — all these people are always talking about their gays. And gay people accept that? When Kathy Griffin says “my gays” I want to kick in the television. When Margaret Cho says “my gays” I want to take an ax and smash the TV set. When someone positions herself alongside, and not with, I don’t understand that.”—Penny Arcade (via eliotglazer)
Hello. Krucoff has tasked me with seeking out Julia Allison at Burning Man. So you don’t have to. You don’t say no to Krucoff. Well, I mean you can, what’s he gonna do, dude only has 7 fingers. But still. Anyway, I hear there will be internet access this year. I wish that was a joke. However, the upside for you is the possibility of real-time photos of Ms. Allison in full Burning Man regalia (or is that a downside?). I shall do my best to capture the entirety of her plumage. I feel like Margaret Mead, only more feminine.
I met the girl who had had the exact job as me, and in the exact same place, for the first time in her apartment in the Tenderloin. Her buzzer didn’t work either so I texted and she came downstairs to let me in. She had red curly hair. Her apartment was nearly empty; we sat in the kitchen and she smoked a cigarette. We talked for two hours, although we agreed that some things she wouldn’t put in the article because nobody would “get” it. Nobody would ever get it but us.
“Corporations are getting better and better at seducing us into thinking the way they think—of profits as the telos and responsibility as something to be enshrined in symbol and evaded in reality. Cleverness as opposed to wisdom. Wanting and having instead of thinking and making. We cannot stop it. I suspect what’ll happen is that there will be some sort of disaster—depression, hyperinflation—and then it’ll be showtime: We’ll either wake up and retake our freedom or we’ll fall apart utterly. Like Rome—conqueror of its own people.” — David Foster Wallace, The Pale King (via nevver)
Brooklyn residents alongside the Gowanus Canal were staying put this Saturday despite an evacuation order from the City of New York. The Gowanus Canal is a federally registered Superfund cleanup site, considered lethally toxic to humans.
When Hurricane Irene hits the New York area on Sunday, the neighborhoods surrounding the Gowanus Canal are in for a literal shitstorm — and that may be the least of their problems.
The latest projections anticipate a storm surge of 7 to 15 feet in New York Harbor on Sunday. Adome of water would travel from Upper New York Bay, through Gowanus Harbor, and into the 1.5 mile-long Gowanus Canal near Smith and 9th St. Once in the canal, it could stir up a heady mix of pollutants — essentially oil, heavy metals, and human excrement — and distribute it throughout the slowly gentrifying area that sits among some of Brownstone Brooklyn’s priciest neighborhoods.
At this time no precautions seem to have been taken to ensure the safety of local residents.
This afternoon I posted a photoset showing the Union Street Bridge was still open to traffic, that minimal preparations had been made against flooding, and that residents weren’t going anywhere. In particular, I expressed concerned for the residents of the Gowanus Houses – a NYCHA housing project one block west of the canal – who were not evacuated.
Though Mayor Mike Bloomberg explained in a press conference this afternoon that the city would be shutting off power and water to NYCHA properties in Zone A, and providing bus service to residents to help them relocate to shelters, no such buses were seen and residents seemed unaware as to any evacuation order or that their electricity and water was to be shut off.
At my Twitter behest, the NY Times’s Michael Barbaro kindly asked Bloomberg about Gowanus in what became the last question of this evening’s mayoral press conference. Bloomberg wasn’t sure whether Gowanus was under evacuation order but said it was “hard to believe” and “unfair” to say that no one told residents of effected areas to evacuate.
By email NYC Councilmember Steve Levin, in whose district the Gowanus Canal resides, said, “Although they are on the border of the zones, the Gowanus Houses are in Zone B and were not under the mandatory evacuation order.”
The Gowanus Houses are nevertheless directly across the street from Zone A, and again, only one block west of the canal.
Far left, the Gowanus Houses. Far right, at end of street, the Gowanus Canal. Picture via Google Street View.
“My office has been in contact with residents there and have impressed upon them that they should take all precautions necessary,” Levin said.
Levin’s remarks don’t account for the lack of a police presence in the area, alerting and assisting Zone A residents to evacuate, as was seen in more well-to-do areas, such as Battery Park City.
With the known presence of toxic waste in the water, it’s all the more troubling. One resident, squarely within Zone A, told me he “hadn’t heard a thing” about evacuation. “I’ve lived here since 1938,” he said, the same year the New England hurricane severely flooded New York. “I’ve seen it all. I’m not going anywhere.”
“My biggest concern with this storm is that we’ll have flooding problems around the Gowanus Canal and Newtown Creek — also a Superfund site,” said Levin. “I have reached out to DEP, OEM and the Mayor’s Office to express my concerns about flooding around both Superfund sites.”
We’ll find out tomorrow if the city’s taking those concerns seriously.
For the first time in four days I stopped thinking of Miranda. Her absent notch in my spine filled with curiosity and I stood up straight with hope and thought. For some reason my head throbbed with ideas of murder. I was jilted, sure, but I wasn’t thinking of ending the life of anyone involved in our shipwreck. I thought of murder because I thought of evidence and I thought of myself no longer existing and I thought of crematoriums. Which lead me to believe that maybe, in some unknown reality, I really did die. I figured detectives from the downtown division would arrive shortly. On the patio they’d find many empty bottles and cigarette butts and the lone boarding pass holder. How wild it is that they would assume this as a clue. The Frontier Airlines boarding pass holder which slipped from my inebriated hands at five thirty some morning, once hugged so lovingly between pages of Eggers’ short stories.
I’d hate to look back on this as something terribly important. I’d like to think that I should be doing something that I’d like to see in a documentary on myself decades later. Some generations are lucky enough to have been a part of something that felt larger than they were. Or made them so. Being a part of the punk movement or the Lost generation, etc. And what do so many of us define ourselves with? Our blogs. Our internet tendencies.
Then she moved and part of me stayed on that bed forever. I never told her that I wanted to turn her on like Timothy Leary like Carl Sagan like satin-wrapped baseball bats. She must have known. She let me in to her bedroom.
Wrapped in soaked sheets, clawing our way through yet another Indian summer, pressing our skin to each other’s skin, as if we were trying to make copies of our pores, pushing inside one another, her legs trembling with each thrust, I nestled my mouth in the bay of her ear and whispered: tell me when to go.