And We’re Back

June 13th, 2007

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I’ve only been back in NYC for a few days and already I’m elbowing old ladies in the head. No joke. Nailed this old bag right in noggin yesterday. I didn’t mean to, but to be honest, I enjoyed it. I think she’s okay. She seemed stunned, but then regained composure and waddled out of the subway car, marginally disoriented.

But that’s just the icing on the cake, Charlie. The real news: I’m moving. Why, you ask. Because I was unintentionally tricked into it. While back in Philly these past weeks I received an auspicious phone call from H. Apparently our lease was up and we’d have to move up from subletters to just straight-up-letters, roping us into another year in the DMZ known as Bushwick. On top of that: H might be moving out anyway. What was I to do? Especially from Philly/San Fransico. Well, I ignored the problem. No use letting it sit in my mind while I was relaxing. But the day I got back I knew I’d better figure out my plan. Apartment hunting in NYC may be the most demoralizing activity I can think of, it makes you feel completely inadequate on many accounts, whether it’s not enough money or not enough street cred or not enough vaginas (people prefer female roommates, and I can respect that). Conveniently, the day I returned, G put out a notice for an open room in her place, which happens to be in one of my favorite areas of Brooklyn: Boerum/Cobble Hill. Before I had time to talk with my roomies, I checked it out. Appraisal: amazing. So far so good, yeah? Found an apartment on the first try… well, not quite. As it turns out, I found out only after seeing G’s place, that I wouldn’t have to sign the lease nor was H moving out. But nonetheless, I’d found a place that is much like the one I envision myself living in within a year. But! Now I’d be abandoning my roomies whom I’m quite fond of and my room itself which is huge by any city’s standards.

Hard decisions, friend. Last night it toiled over it for hours. Should I stay or should I go? One place has a bigger room, the other a nicer neighborhood. Both have excellent people. Both have similar atmospheres. Maybe just stay, don’t rock any boats… but maybe, jazz things up, start the next phase. As you already know I decided to move. I figured two things, one: why not just say yes to change, shake things up, take a chance, move forward. And: when I finally do want to move I may not be able to find a place as nice as this, especially without a broker’s fee.

Sorry, I’ve got nothing on my trip.  I’ll just sum it up with the enclosed photo of me holding an ice cream cone on the porch of the house where Jack Kerouac wrote most of his work.


post scriptum: Also this.