Geeky Chic

Disclaimer:  It’s 2:31 a.m. and I am slightly inebriated right now.  We all know this means that there will be more candor than usual in this post.  Crap!

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I’ve been in NYC for a little over than 24 hours right now.  I love this city.  I hate that I can’t admit how much I love this place; it’s the only place in the continental U.S. that can compete with Ess Eff for my affection.  One of my biggest regrets is not having had the balls to pick NYU over HLS for law school, for the New York bug would be out of my system by now.  But, I am resigned that I am past the age where I can move here, and either way, I cannnot work the law firm hours that this city requires.  So, I must submit to San Francisco’s beauty.

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Despite my love of this fair city, I know that my beloved Finch feels secure while I am apart from him.  Why?  Because he knows that I cannot get into any trouble eating $19!/plate Mac n’ Cheese with Banana Girl.  Because he knows that my host, the cleanest and frugalest Columbia graduate ever drags me to karaoke and gay bars with his fruity friends.  Because he knows that the charms of guys in private equity pale in comparison to him.  God, but this place has such great eye candy.

It turns out that the New Yorker is a Left Coast publication — it’s circulation is higher in California, than in New York State (not per capita, but by pure numbers).  After NYC, SF and LA come in second and third respectively in terms of readership (Beantown comes in fourth).  If the numbers are so high, perhaps Eggers and crew can churn out something broader than McSweeney’s and the Believer to create a true West Coast counterpart to the NY’er.