Fortress Invasion

Tuesday afternoon, the apartment I've affectionately come to refer to as the "Fortress of Solitude 2.0" these past four years will be getting a visit from the building's broker. I remember meeting her back when I moved in. What a bittersweet yet hopeful time that was!

I've spoken with her a few times on the telly-phone these past few weeks and she seems sympathetic, understanding the place will probably look chaotic.

I've been steadily getting rid of things and dealing with the chaos of packing in a small space. It's all got to get a lot messier before it gets organized: basic fact. This axiom compounded by the dearth of square footage I'm working with.

So yes, much as I've done thus far, the Fortress is a bit of a fright. Hopefully she'll understand and won't throw a fit. I'll do my song and dance about how much I hate to leave this place. The tiniest violin will play mournfully in the background.
Not to bitch but trying to land a writing gig—or any paid gig—in the same time frame as moving is really effin insane.

So much about right now sucks. I really can't wait for things to start to look up again for me. Packing forces you to look through a lot of old shit and it's reminded me of some really good stretches I've enjoyed here. In this space. 2006 was probably my banner year. That's where it started. Taking it to the next level has just been more of a challenge than I'd hoped.

Just the Universe's way of making me earn it all harder. (Said the atheist.)

I remember having dinner at an Indian restaurant with my friends Lane and Chris shortly after I'd moved here. (This was back when my friends lived on the Upper West Side!) At some point, Lane said something to the effect of "Welcome to the neighborhood" and that felt completely reassuring. I'd been through HELL but I was entering a far better community. It's the strangest sensation, to be nostalgic about something that was just FOUR YEARS AGO...

And now... all that's done with...