Getting Involved

OK, I’m a lot calmer now, thanks. No more undignified outbursts for a little while more, at least. (By the way, thanks for all the love, gang. It helped more than you may ever realize.) Yesterday was a pretty damn stressful day, spent worrying and panicking and running around trying to figure out what is going on with this big crackdown on artists’ lofts here in Brooklyn. There was a big community meeting about it last night (which I missed) and another one tonight (which I damn well won’t miss), so people are up in arms and on top of the situation, which is good. The people in my building met last night and we got ourselves organized so we can avert catastrophe by making a preemptive strike at getting things up to snuff around here before any inspectors come by and try to claim it’s not safe here. We even coined a plucky name (EWAC! The East Williamsburg Artists Coalition), set up a web page and an listserv, and started imagining how fun it would be to weld artwork to the outside of the building to baricade ourselves in if the bastards try to kick us out. Never say that activism doesn’t have room for a little goofiness.

The meeting really helped calm me down and realize that there are steps we can take to avert gettin’ the boot. Now that they’ve evacuated a few buildings and created such a fuss, the city agencies involved say that they would only evacuate buildings in imminent danger (a very sketchy evaluation, from the sound of it), and try to fine or warn the rest on the list of 121 targeted loft buildings. Presumably the political pressure now is for them to avoid kicking anyone else out into the streets around Christmas, so we’re counting on the inspectors to look favorably on anyone’s attempts to make sure their buildings comply with the fire code. That’s why we’re springing into action to make sure our building is OK before anyone gets in to look around. My building isn’t as raw as it looks, so things may not be so tenuous. The thing is, we want to know for sure before we take any chances. That’s why we’re all springing into action today — keeping exits clear, getting smoke detectors and fire extinguishers, taking care of any flammable materials we may have around our pads.

These aren’t all temporary measures to avert this catastrophe, even if that’s what has sprung us into action. We want the building to be safe. One of the things you can’t take for granted when you live in an artist’s loft is that everything is safe and honky-dory all the time (especially when the owner is a notorious loft slumlord). Also, we want to pull together as a building and a neighborhood of people with the same concerns about the life we’re trying to carve out here in the hinterlands of Brooklyn. So this organization of ours will hopefully live on past this dilemma and allow us to continue and improve our lot in life. Besides, why waste the snappy acronym?

Also, I’m glad that something has spurred me to getting to know my neighbors after living here for well over a year. One of the problems of life in New York, and this neighborhood in particular, is that it’s really easy to just hole up in your cave and never get many chances to know the people living mere feet away from you. It’s worse around here where there are no public places to congregate and mingle. I’ve said hello to plenty of the folks around here, but I now realize that I actually like everyone. Pretty much everyone in my building is really good-looking and hip, too, so that helps.

And, Dori, this is SO not Bushwick out here. I’ve lived in Bushwick, so trust me. I’m very happy to be on the East Williamsburg side of Flushing Ave., where it’s at least 20 percent less bleak.

Domestic Disturbance

Imminent ThreatHow much god-damned shittiness am I supposed to put up with in one month? I apologize if that’s not the most articulate, informative way to express the extreme aggravation, frustration, loneliness, disappointment, and despair that have been swirling around these last few weeks. Lots of things have sucked — family trauma, financial strains, work nonsense, regular holiday crap, and plenty of guy trouble — and now this fucking article comes along to let me know that I may be suddenly evicted at any point. A threat like this wouldn’t be welcome under the best of circumstances: It really sucks ass right now. It’s not perfect, but I really adore my bachelor pad, and I really don’t wanna get kicked out to the curb just when winter is setting in and my bank account is perpetually overdrawn as I deal with piles of various bills. I can’t even afford to live anywhere but here, much less put together the scratch to actually find a place and haul me and all my crap there.

You know, I was going to write a fun little entry about my sexy new cell phone (’cuz I lost mine this weekend) and how size envy with electronics is all about being small instead of big and what an incredible paradigm shift that is for luxury items. Maybe I was going to gripe a little bit about how demoralizing it is when guys you really like wind up with one another instead of being interested in you, but no. Now this last straw onto the camel’s back is provoking the crying jag that’s been building up the last couple of weeks. So rather than figure out what the fuck I should do right now, I think I’ll go cry myself to sleep like some fucking baby and prepare for the humiliating ritual of tucking my poor, loser tail between my legs and asking my parents for help.

Merry Christmas kids!