My life in Denmark has become very peaceful and happy. I bought my first home a few months ago, a rooftop loft with slanted walls, lots of light and huge views of Christiania, the wooded hippie commune across the street. Above it is a huge swath of blue sky, and the distance I can see tiny planes taking off and landing at Kastrup Airport.
I still work at Danske Bank, and enjoy my job; I translate documents and have started to do more journalism for in-house publications. Remarkably, I really do care that new EU regulations introduced on July 1 will demand parity in fees between cross-border and domestic interbank transfers, and am perfectly happy to be writing a story about it.
Ex boyfriends and other assorted busybodies will be interested to know that I am still not married, although I am busily dating every idiot in Copenhagen the way I once managed to dig up every idiot in New York. One recent guy kept talking about how incredibly attractive he was to the opposite sex - "I'm wading in women," he said - although none of these women were attractive enough for him. "They have to learn to play in their league," he said. Another laughed uproariously, for reasons that still aren't clear, when I told him my house had burned down in 1995.
I still do plenty of writing, including regular features for BT, Denmark's largest tabloid, dance criticism for the local English-language paper, the Copenhagen Post, and the Copenhagen city guide for RedHot, the Virgin Express Airlines magazine. As promised in my last missive, I have also translated Joel Fauré, the Melancholy Male Model into Danish, but since there aren't many male models here, he has instead become Morten, den Melankolsk Morganvært. ("Morten, the melancholy morning TV host.")
The old site is fun to look at, and brings me back to a time when this website was the most important thing in my life. It was three-and-a-half years ago, but that seems like a very, very long time.