You are currently browsing stories tagged with “Moving.”
In 1991, Joe Chinnici, my landlord, offered me a cash deal if I would decline to renew my lease. The top-floor apartment at the corner of Bleecker Street and the Bowery had been my home for 13 years, the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere, before or since. In retrospect, I like to think that it was my true childhood home; [...]
I’ve spent time in over 20 countries and at least 40 US states. In my travels, many people have told me that though New York City might be a nice place to visit, it’s certainly not a place for a person to live. But thank God there is a New York. One of the best life decisions I made was [...]
As the wheels hit the ground and the pilot stopped the airplane at Newark airport, I felt right at home. I was landing in the city that was going to be my new home, at least for a couple of years. People had always told me that I should live in New York once, but leave before the city made me [...]
Lola is whining. I open the door to the dark hallway so she'll stop, so she'll know I'm here. The sunlight reveals a brown present she's left already, its odor mixing in with the faint smell of cigarettes. It’s hardening. I'm not going to clean it up. She's not my puppy. The open bedroom door illuminates the Husky’s crystal- blue [...]
Affordable housing. For most New Yorkers the term is an oxymoron. Niklas and I moved to the West Village when we got married a few years ago, a romantic notion if not an especially realistic one. In the beginning we joked that we could live on love. But a sandwich is also nice sometimes. As freelancers living in an overpriced, [...]
Before I came to a stop at Bedford and Broadway the workers were attempting to flag me down like I was piloting a rescue helicopter. I’d asked Rob to translate for me in order to get the best guy for the job. Two young men approached the passenger side with hopeful expressions. “You speak English?” Rob asked, forgoing the translation. [...]
The Doctor and I weren't hung-over, since we were still drunk from the night before. That morning we ventured out to the western fringe of Park Slope to view this mysterious townhouse that Anya had bought. Along with Harris, friend and fellow casualty of the previous evening, we staggered down 4th Avenue under the steely reproach of a grey sky. [...]
