There was an earthquake this morning, around five. I woke up as it rattled everything in the house. It felt good, like the Magic Fingers thing I vaguely remember in skeezy hotel rooms as a kid. Earthquakes, so far, have just been kinda fun thing. There was a 4 point something earthquake one day when I was working at Wired, it was the perfect little way to shake up (sorry, I suck) the routine, like how a fire alarm was in junior high.
So I'm interning right now at a magazine that is, almost assuredly, going under. They're putting out their September issue and shutting down at least the print side, is what I've been hearing. It's too bad -- it seemed like the place where I could've written some longer stuff and also just built up my journo chops a bit more. In the meantime, I'm doing some fact checking for the next couple of weeks and then, I dunno. I feel the worst for the people that have actually worked here a long time -- the ed-in-chief was choked up at the Wednesday morning rundown meeting. It's a bump in the road for me, but the end of an era for others.
I will say that I am absolutely going to miss my view. The offices are in the 29th floor of a building downtown in the Financial District, and while the intern bullpen doesn't have the best view of the bay, I can still sit here in the quiet and watch clouds drape shadows over buildings and seagulls wobbling on the wind currents in between buildings. I've never worked in a skyscraper before, and I can see the appeal. Not so much in the Gordan Gecko-esque sense of like surveying my kingdom, but in the strange, dreamlike sense of being suspended above everything, and how everything looks beautiful from a distance.
I think that's a Bette Midler song. Jesus. Weekend, here I come.