you don't know me, i am an introvert, an excavator. i'm duckin' out for now, a face in dodgy elevators.

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bitch post.


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What a joke Manhattan real estate is.

what a joke


what a joke


what a joke.

i'd like to point out, that in the first link there, you are paying 2,700 a month for FOUR HUNDRED SQUARE FEET. That's

32 400

a year.

...

for 400 sq. feet.

...

i mean... they're not even full bedrooms. YOU DON'T EVEN GET WALLS. all that money, and ya gonna have to spend like another 300 bucks, cause you're gonna have to get two of these just so you're not eye to eye with your stove every night. that, or so you can sleep separately from your three roomates, whom you will need if you'd like to ever eat again, because you will have no money for your groceries. and you're gonna need to eat, because you can't afford to pay for heating so FATTEN up or you won't be able to keep warm in winter. not too fat though, or gawker will find you and kick you out of new york.

i just honestly can't imagine when i would ever have enough money that i would be willing to piss it away living like a gerbil just to be "in the heart of it all". i say this with loving affection, because truly new york is amazing. just... not with all the people in it. maybe a little more "I Am Legend", and a little less i-hope-you-didn't-really-need-that-kidney-because-the-black-market-pays-better-than-retail. good-luck-with-the-meatpacking-district. do you like furniture? too bad.

maybe i'm mad because i'm jealous. maybe its a bitter dosage of reality. a reality of my little kid fantasy coming craaaashing down like a ton of bricks on my lower spine.
when i was little, my dad would drop us off for thanksgiving dinner literally ON my aunt claudia's front step, literally pull up ONTO the curb to drop us off, because down in soho back then there were still strippers with day jobs as muggers, and they were probably hiding around every corner to kill us dead and steal our clothes and jewelry as we bled out on the sidewalk.

i mean maybe not that bad, but it was still plenty seedy. and that was only 15, 20ish years ago, and *still* with my father erecting a fence around us just to bring us inside my aunt's apartment, i had this vague feeling that ny city was where it was AT. women with fur stoles and very long legs were smoking ciggarettes and talking about dylan and drank espresso for every meal, and they lived in new york and didn't wash off their eyeliner at night but still woke up looking french. at six, i didn't neccesarily want to *be* them, per se, but i knew that the seemingly effortless bohemian thing had some sort of culture around it that appealed to me. my mom took me to the Met and i used to look up at these gigantic towering white brick buildings that had the balconies on top, and all around the baconies, up in the sky, you could see the tops of the trees growing on the terraces. i knew i wanted to have a life where i could wake up, lean over the railing on my terrace, and look down at a city coming alive; wake up and look down and know it was all HERE. all a finger's width away from me. new york was loud and argumentative and edgy and exciting.

and now... its not.

or maybe it was something different then. lots of buildings look tall when you're only three feet tall. and fur is gross and in reality, smoking is too, and i'm way too control-freak-type-A to ever sleep with eyeliner on. most of the time, girls like that annoy me -- and who knows whats going on underneath.

i'll never really have enough money to have a lifestyle where i'm not worried about spending. so blowing 32 grand a year to live like a pauper... well if i ever have 32,000 dollars, i'm certainly not going to spend it living in one room. i guess at some point, you have to acknowledge the cards you were handed, in life, and also acknowledge who you really are.

they say you can have whatever you want in life, if you want it bad enough. what they don't say is that wanting it bad enough usually means giving up a whole lot of something else: money, space, time, friends, dignity...
when you finally get older and understand the reality of what you want entails, sometimes you realize that the weight of what you would give up means you don't really want that thing at all, anymore. sometimes you still do. and sometimes its a little sad, to finally acknowledge that reality -- to realize that even though you still will want it, will always want it... you don't want it bad enough to give everything else up.




like walls. and groceries. and not living like a gerbil in a wheel.

but ya know, whatever.