Ceci n'est pas une maison
Beware, NYC housing. It's almost inconceivable how many bad things can happen, and I'm exploring all of them. We've been kicked out or three apartments in two weeks: Gentrification, reneging on a contract, and illegal subletting of commercial space which we shouldn't be trying to live in anyhow (they let us move in today and then took the keys away from us). Well, that's that. I think that last one will actually work out tomorrow, but it sure is complicated. All this with everybody being fairly honest, even.

Living in a space where your stuff is inaccessible is a surprisingly reflective experience. Jlx and I are sleeping in our empty ISP factory with bare walls and one lamp and a towering bamboo plant, drinking white tea out of paper cups and hijacking someone's wireless network. The subway's ambient roars and flickering lights on the manhattan bridge come through every few minutes, the smokestacks out the windows exhale heavy plumes in sulfur lights. I can feel my inner 16 year old trent reznor wannabe leap for joy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must go find my vinyl pants and chain up a pig's head out in the hall.

bon nuit