looking for apartments really made me realize how fucking good our apartment is. the first broker who showed us around? was out of his fucking mind. the places he showed us were in such fucking squallor? i mean, the first one was on this filthy little street, & was such a fucking joke? so i figured he was, you know, show shit first, then show the good stuff, to make the second showing look even better? man his second showing was berserk! the stairs up to it were as crooked as a david lynch movie, & the doorframes were so low that i had to duck. the front door was literally so low that i had to bow at the waist to get out. what the fuck. so i started freaking out a little bit then. because, uh, those places suuuuuucked. then the next guy, john burke? was a much hepper cat. the first place he showed us, whatever, was basically some grandma's basement. but i wasn't counting that. the second apartment he showed us? was actually really great! it had its own kitchen too. but it was out near mike. which, okay, isn't the end of the world completely, but is contrasted to park slope, or if you want to ride the 2 train to work. which i do. my plan was to just walk the entire length of prospect park every day if we moved there. so that place was okay, other than location. it was right on martak's block. given how much i complain about the blistering walk to his apartment during the summer, i'm kind of glad to dodge it. anyhow, the third he showed us was this enormous two bedroom for 1.7k. i liked it alot as well, but that is too much money. anyhow, i saw some other places in the ass-end of prospect heights the next day. rennovated hostels for the criminally insane! but the broker only had tiny places & huge places, & the huges were not all that huge either.
all while this was going on, brokers kept bringing big groups of people to look at our apartment. then they would oh & ah like it was the fourth of july fireworks in there. & to be fair, we do have a nice place, on our decorating mojo alone. big book cases, for one thing. we have nice stuff! anyhow, they'd come & snap pictures & call their signifigant others to see hurry & come see the place. we were in demand! i hated it. hated it. get out get out mine mine mine! fuck everyone who saw my apartment. i live here! yuck. slowly it dawned on jenny & me that maybe? we were over-reacting to the rent hike. i mean, heck, we lived in it for 3 years at the price we paid for it when we moved in. rent go up in a gentrified/ing 'hood! so now maybe the moral of the story is to appreciate our apartment more. also, to redecorate.
also, mark danielewski's new book, only revolutions? fucking blows. i mean, i'm about 100 pages in (48/48). the gimmick of flipping the book over to read the other point of view (in this case of similar, circular events)? is cute. but the coloured text? & side bar of annotations? been tired, as black francis would say. you played that hand of cards, mark! what the hell is this stream of conciousness zuihitsu ugly poetry? am i interpreting the rumors i hear correctly? are all the bold words put there from words that people on a message board suggested to you? are you kidding me with this? did i pour a bucket of H2SO4 on my head & am maybe hallucinating it to block out the pain? such rubbish. what poe is to music, it is to books. i wanna go home, sloop mark z. let me go home. don't you understand that i could be reading more gene wolfe? at least monster nation came out to distract me.