Hosannas! It is, more or less, the one-year anniversary of this blog. The celebration would have passed unrecognized had not it come up during a conversation with my Birthday Twin last night. Constant Reader, have you been here since the beginning? I thank you.
The Brooklyn Bachelor is doing well. I still have all my teeth. My ass is still a wonder to behold. I am still far from enlightenment, and have miles to go before… &c. Two things notably different from one year ago: I am employed, tenuously to be sure (but then aren’t we all?); I am dating someone (as opposed to just dating; our vocabulary is rather limited in this context, isn’t it?)
But be assured, Faithful Reader, that I am still a bachelor and still living in Brooklyn. And the purpose of this blog remains as vague as ever, neither micro nor macro, but just right. It is a mixture of diary, journal, & broadsheet, although I try to keep my rants on the side.
Gentle Reader, all half dozen of you, this is the pride of my small vintage paperback collection:
I tried to rotate it 90 but it didn't take.