Note to Self: Don't Die

It's an obscenely chilly 57 degrees in Brooklyn today. I was accustomed to L.A. weather ... even moreso than I thought. I did visit Wisconsin briefly last winter, but it was more of a novelty than a realization that places get that cold. I mean, I knew I was going back to L.A. I knew the negative temperatures were temporary. Temporary temperatures! I'd soon be back to a balmy 60 degrees, donning my unlined wool coat and an umbrella while waiting for the bus to take me to work.

I threw on my denim jacket as a precaution today and find myself clutching it in some desperate manner around my torso in yet another Williamsburg bar with free wifi (so much easier to find than Williamsburg coffee shops with free wifi). I'm losing both confidence and heat rather quickly. I really don't think I ask for a whole lot, and I'm struggling with everything. The haphazard canvas next to my head is apparently going for $600. The windows are foggy. My pint glass is full. The beer flows freely and cheaply. And so I shall press on.