Reading the New York Time's piece on the McKibbin Lofts today reminded me of my life three years ago. I was new to New York, having transplanted myself from Washington, DC to Bushwick, and living in some sort of industrial demilitarized zone that some silly person had named "East Williamsburg." While I didn't live in either of the twin loft buildings on McKibben Street -- known as The Dorms -- I did live on nearby Varet Street in an old four story building that had been a knitting factory in its former incarnation.
Life in "East Williamsburg" was rough. Paper thin walls afforded marginal privacy and peace of mind. The next door neighbors reckoned they were a band, but couldn't play to save their lives. My lifeline, the L train, was constantly shut down. There was no elevator, so each day was a climb as I ascended four flights of industrial stairs to get back home. There was a basic shortage of services in the neighborhood except for places to get wasted on $2 cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and snakebite shots. Whatever illusion of urban bohemian cool I had quickly evaporated with each insanely high gas and electric bill.
Anyway all this talk of moving lately and my tentative Craigslist searches reminded me of the last time I had to find a new apartment. It wasn't pretty.
1 comment:
i hear you, girl. our lease is up in august, and our landlord is so terrible that we'll be grateful to get out of here, in spite of the low, low rent for such a big place.
last yr was the first in three(!) that i didn't move in the summer -- but i helped mr. man move twice, once to a 4th floor walkup.
here's putting a wish out into the universe that we can all find manageable places--places that treat us good enough that we won't have to move next summer.
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