hello dear readers, and happy bloody Sunday! big shout out to my dear Mother and Pops in England, just gotten off a pretty deep YIM conversation. always good to talk.
so the laundry’s done, it’s 1:30 in the post-meridian and I’m wondering if it’s worthwhile me venturing out on the old Cannondale for a 10-mile ride in the park - however, it looks like rain is beckoning, and it’s making me feel like a kid about to jump into an already up-and-running double dutch skipping fest, building up the rhythm preparing to jump in… in, out, in, out… waiting for that right rise and fall of the skipping rope… [looks over shoulder out the window at the grey sky] - ah bugger it, I’ll pick up a book instead.
before the Jackson 5, Michael was a mean Double Dutch rope spinner
some of you may know I’m looking for a new abode by the end of this month, and what fun it’s proving to be - way beyond my expectations of pains in the arsal area! I’ve seen two places so far this month, and I can only say that New York has to be one of the hardest places to find something that “fits”. take my current place, for example - I love it here - my two roomies, who I shall call Mandy and Mark are the best. one a punky skateboarder and the other a not-for-profit executive assistant - a lot of fun to be around, and very very nice people… I lucked out, that’s without a fact, this feels like home. unfortunately for me, I came here with the sole intention of returning “home” to my beau in September, however that looks bleak - so I’m on the hunt for another flat to hang my thomas pink work shirts. one flat was in brooklyn heights, 3 doors down from the famed promenade, with probably the best views of downtown manhattan around. now, don’t get me wrong, we all have those “messy”, or “not-as-tidy-as-yesterday” days, but this flat was without question the diviest hole I’d seen. however, the current tenant, the owner, was a 50-something arthritic, which broke my heart - I almost hugged the guy on my way out to wish him luck in finding someone - he’s been looking for 6 months apparently. I’m tempted to call him next weekend and offer to lend him a hand tidying the place, purely so he can rent the space. poor man.
and here we have the “just robbed” look, very art nouveau
the other place I saw, yesterday, was a new thing for me - “railroad apartment”… now come on my dear american global domination alies, I know you give normal day-to-day things cutesy names (onesies for example, which is a one-piece thing for babies), but where the bloody hell did you get “railroad apartment” from? let’s be honest, it’s an open plan flat, with “separate” rooms being occupied by more than one tenant. the typical new york city landlord way of doing business… “now, how can I squeeze 4 people into this box?” I’m sure is the common question local property owners ask themselves. the answer is the railroad flat. basically, the flat’s ONLY entrance opens into what would have been my room, then next to me, is another tenant, separated only by a makeshift double swing door thing (homemade), and beyond that, another room, with no door. bear with me, it gets better - all the doors stay open in the summer as there’s only one air conditioning unit - in my room! ah yes, there’s more… yonder that, is the kitchen and bathroom… so now you have that image in your mind, let’s run a typical weekly morning scenario… I wake up, fire off the morning pant rattler (come on, I’m a bloke for crying out loud - tell me you don’t, go on), walk through two other bedrooms looking like nick nolte on crack, into the shower, back through two other bedrooms, and then proceeding to dress, precariously trying to hide my boys from the view of my female neighbor - oh what fun!
good morning neighbor, don’t mind me, I just need a shit
so there you have it, my fun weekend thus far, and it’s only going to get better as I try and swat the now appearing baby mozzies trying to suck my madcow-riddled blood.now where’s that book…
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