A few readers have complained that I am not posting quickly enough. There is, at least right now, good reason for that: I recently undertook the nightmarish task known as "moving." First and foremost, it should be stated for the record that after 12 years, 4 months and 21 days of pounding it out in Manhattan, I have left the storied island behind. I am now a resident of Brooklyn, the promised land. More space, better light, fewer socialites. I now live with my girlfriend in a lovely loft in DUMBO.

Moving made me come to the cliched conclusion that despite our opposable thumbs and our ability to create riveting procedural crime dramas, we humans are really nothing more than the sum of the useless crap we sock away in closets and filing cabinets. What we leave behind says a good deal about the contents of our character.

Here, for those who are interested, is a list of media-related items that did not make the cut:

-7 years of back issues of the New Yorker (I had the best of intentions when I saved them, but I think I'll opt for the CD-ROM that has every issue ever printed)

-3 years worth of gifts "from" Graydon Carter, circa the middle Clinton years; Vanity Fair tended to give its staffers elaborate and very Anglophilic holiday gifts (e.g. stationary from Smythson in a personalized, engraved box). Sorry Graydon

-Various letters of rejection from leading magazines and newspapers explaining why my article, despite its obvious merits, was not apppriate for publication

-Various letters of rejection from leading publishing houses explaining why my manuscript, despite its obvious merits, was not suitable for publication

-Various letters of acceptance from Swing, a "magazine" founded by David Lauren (son of Ralph) for articles that were hastily written during lunch breaks.

-A Conde Nast company phone directory from 1997 (this item is referred to in my book, on page 117, if you are cross referencing)

-My first bylined clips from now-defunct publications that were irrelevant even during their existence, such as Speak, Black Book, Seen and Citysearch.com

-A pen given to me by James Truman during a shared elevator ride at 350 Madison Avenue

-A signed copy of Lighting the Corners by beat poet Michael McClure (the book was signed to Wayne Lawson, the literary editor of Vanity Fair, and left in the office freebie pile)

-Old business cards from every publication I've worked for, including the short-lived Drill, which often proved useful for getting into clubs, bars, gallery events and even the odd concert

-Old business cards from friends and acquaintances, mainly from media jobs they've not held for years, including Laurel Touby's "contributing editor" card from Glamour (complete with a handwritten note and her home phone number on the back--this was from the pre-cell phone days)

-A memo that outlined the first issue of George: A Journal of Satire, begun during graduate school (N.B. This journal preceded the creation of George, a journal of dubious political and fashion reporting founded by the late JFK Jr.)

-Boxes full of free products, CDs, books, cosmetics, electronics and various other items that were a) sent to me by ambitious PR people who, for reasons I don't understand, thought I would actually write about these things OR (worse) b) placed in giveaway bags and taken home by me in my drunken carelessness after some such party where cheap but free wine or booze was served

Interested parties are welcome to rummage through the trash bins in front of 354 East 13th street, in the East Village. However, anything I had of value (or use to another human) was donated to the Salvation Army. But even charities and the homeless have their limits.

*The photo above is not actually the items I left behind but rather the only suitable picture I have of my recent move. You'll have to imagine the listed items.

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