Since I started freelancing in east New Jersey six weeks ago, I haven't found a good way to travel to my office from my apartment.
I live a stone's throw from the East River and for now I'm working a stone's throw from the Hudson. This is too absolute by half, but you can't get there from here.
I remember reading somewhere that the Inca could ascend to Machu Pichuu via the Inca trail quicker in the 15th Century than travelers can today. Much the same thing, I think, could be said about getting across town in Manhattan. I think Lenni Lenape trails probably hied people faster than the M31.
That said, I can't really say anything bad about the formidable building in which I am working. The sun pours in, for an open plan, there are places to go where you can squeeze out ten minutes of quiet, there's a decent cafeteria so you don't have to eat lunch at one of the local businesses (which are mostly car-dealerships or lumberyards) and there's an ambient rooftop that I suppose people who aren't freelancers can take advantage of.
The one thing I really miss in all this, of course, is a neighborhood bookstore. Yes, my office now is strewn with all sorts of books, but there's no place to browse and discover new things. And despite what some may say about the splendors of the internet (and they are many) real live paper books have palpable (and pulpable) advantages that are not to be sneezed at.
No more howling at the moon this morning.
I'm still on the crosstown bus,
And I have only half an hour to go.