There's been a lot to say

Hi.

I have lots to tell and say, like how brutal and busy January was without turning into money, except, of course for the text deal. Like Generoso, I have to tell you about Generoso. Like the sale deal in Greenpoint that will not reach the table. But it will. Home Buying for Hipsters 2, how I was totally emo all week over it, then a little down about attendance, although the folks who did come were pretty high quality folks. Then the WSJ called, a week later. Haven't heard back from the reporter, though.

The trip to Florida. There's that. In the shuttle on the way to the airport I wrote a beautiful little couple of paragraphs before a folded my head over to the window and fell asleep for the rest of the ride. Grandma. Alice. Dad's cousins. Sylvia. Tan, or part-of one.

Velvet and the Service Animals. That's what I am calling my latest secret fictional not really joke band. Named after some clients and an agent from another company. I have to tell you about that.

I'll give 'em. Sometime I'll tell you about that too.

More about walking

I like to wander on purpose, but I can't even imagine doing so because you don't know who you are...

Another case for the nightwalk

Poor guy, he should really get a map or some gloves or some courage enough to ask someone where the eff he is!

What I want to do Right Now

What I want to do right now is allow (make) someone to bear witness to my humanity, my life, my events for the past few (unreported) weeks. I think my life looks pretty cool right now. Right Now. It's a cold night out there and I can't think that there is anything better out there than what I am doing. I am sitting at home Right Now, listening to cool-sounding soul 45s (WFMU), drinking Punt E Mes, my new drink, contemplating buying a piece of property with someone I barely know with money that barely exists, working on my script for my event in a week and a half, my book proposal, which also barely exists. Soon I'm gonna start working on my finances. I don't know, I just feel like things look pretty cinematic Right Now, but is it that dumb existential cliche (if a moment is cool and no one is there to see it, feel its coolness, is it still cool?)?? It could just be the soul hits and the apertif talking.

Dear Jesus, What are the rules of punctuation when it comes to parentheses and quotation marks, anyway? I really need to know. Love, your pal.

I tried to ask the dude this question a while back and I felt the answer I received was incomplete and not satisfying. Hmmm, anyone else?

Duh, I would love it if the Mister would call me out of the blue Right Now, confess that he was just afraid of my awesomeness and he's ready Right Now to reconsider things and give the whole go-around another shot. I bet there are a couple of girls who are wishing this. Most notably his Ex. But I really have no idea since he never talked to me about her. Except to say, unconvincingly, that she was super awesome. I don't see any of this happening. Not Right Now, anyway. (Still delusional.)

I had L take out a rental client today, since I was in Greenpoint looking at sale props. He is the guy who put in the Kingman application and then, after a series of events, found himself back in the market. L said today he had some serious remorse about not taking the place on Perry Street for $3600. I'm sorry too, dude. You cost me $3000. Whatever he closes on now, hopefully with me, I have to split with L, since she took him out today. Best case scenario now is about $1500 each. Worst case is obviously a bunch of work for nothing.

Got two decent ad calls today. The people seemed nice, who knows...I think I'm gonna make myself try to take out one of the clients tomorrow, even though I'd rather work from home tomorrow. But I will probably have to take Perry Street out again too.

I really need to make a big chunk of money sometime soon, though ($5000 by noon). I am CONVINCED that if this happens I will be able to finally concentrate on everything I need to do to write that masterpiece, make those two or three WIKIPEDIA entries I have been meaning to do, learn to sing and play the drums and start a band in earnest. Seriously. Plus learn to draw better, read 10 books, go to Brazil to visit my friend, go to Israel to visit my other friend, buy a car, sew myself a dress, mail packages to my cousin's kids, clean behind my bed, design and teach a cooking class at the cook store in Williamsburg, learn enough about graphic design to do all my own work, become a more prolific, more hilarious blogger, improve my vocabulary, both written and spoken, and find a boyfriend. I am officially ready to have my mind blown by someone's incredible awesomeness.

I guess all that healing hasn't really done the trick yet... But I still heart Pnina.

Wburg, partying with children

Barry Manilow

2 suffixes that are over and must never be mentioned again: -tastic, -tacular. Not cool.

K came up with this:
Kitch Punk=Punk with a Gimmick. Punk with Rainbows. Punk with Recorded Beats and matching shirts. Punk rock, I suppose, has designer (dressy) sweatshirts now, references the 80s, looks like it works at a suburban fried chicken place. Yes, I'm talking about Best Fwends, who showed fantastic enthusiasm and put on an all around good show. I guess that's where the 22-year olds are taking things these days. Fun stuff. Oh yeah, and I liked their banner.

Rainbow Brite had some sharp dance moves. Very reminicent of the fence-hopping Coin Co-op/Casa Zimbabwe parties of the late 90s--the sprinkler and the bus driver and all that. I can thank JJ for opening up to me the world or narrated dance moves. Shell necklace and Wrong Crooked Hat had vanished or failed to truly capture my interest by then, so I gave Rainbow Brite my number and said we should hang out in Greenpoint!

Can't a girl eat a deep fried rabbit in peace?

Last night I did a deal via text message. That's pretty hilariously New York City of me, I'd say.

I was at Il Buco tasting some of the new menu and sipping Punt E Mes and a call came in from the Indian banker who has been jerking me around and trying to jack me on the fee. Being in a crowded and bustling restaurant, I didn't answer but instead texted him that I was at dinner and had he made a decision?

Me: at dinner. Are you interested in proceeding w/apt & trying for $2175?
Him: My other broker found another apartment for $2195 (with one month broker fee)-if you can push the broker fee to 10% ill go with you..


(The whole time I am thinking about how you can't close Indians)

Me (to DW):Ny tower dude just texted me that other broker found apt for $2195 w 1 mo fee. Said if we can do 10 percent he'll go w us.
DW: Do the deal @ 10% how early can I see an app?
Me: I texted him w info & fax #. I'll let you know.
Me: he says he just sent bank statement, job lttr and paystub just now. I sais I'll send app in am. Also, will pay 10 perc on 2200 but wants to try for $2175 rent.


(If there is a percent % key on my phone, I can't find it. Also, I cannot find +, which I could really use in humorous text messages..)

Me: ok deal @ 10 percent. Get me paperwork 1st thing in am. Or fax tonight to 212 475 3700 attn e-- l--. Job lttr,bank statement,paystub 2005 taxes etc.
Him: ill fax first thing tomorrow am - I will still pay the 10% on 2200, but would appreciate if you can get the rent to 2175. Appreciate you working with me.
Me: Ok cool. Early as possible!!
Him:Just faxed bank statement, salary info and letter, and paystubs!
Me:Awesme. I'll email fax you app in am.

Now it is the AM and we've all been on the phone a few times. I think it is actually happening!

Genius or a big waste of time?

Probably somewhere in the middle. I can amuse myself on a consistent basis. I amuse others enough of the time so I qualify as a funny person. Anyway, reading old emails, I found this.

New Years

Instant warmth. Right in the vestibule "Ritchie" shook, then slowly, with eerie purpose, kissed my hand. The mom hugged me and introduced herself as "The Mom." DZ, caviar, champagne, 12 foot ceilings, crown moldings, a huge sleigh bed staring at us from the other room. DZ pointed out the gold shoe shoved into the bookcase, next to the "Art of Caring for the Shar-Pei." She said that's why she feels at home.

We took my plastic glass of champagne and braised brussels sprouts/radicchio/leek concocsh downstairs, then I felt at home. Sarah was sitting on the floor fishing candy out of the crevices of the rough-hewn coffee table. They told Robert, a boarder (?) that an elegant young lady was coming to dinner. I met the Shar-pei; she had had an eye lift, since the rolls on her eyelids were causing her to go blind.

Everybody calls "the parents" (as they called themselves) by name, by their first names. In conversation, they are "my mother" and "Ritchie". I like this. My brother and I call our mother by her first name. We used to call our father by his. Now, to me, he is mostly, "my dad". I think that's because I am not around a lot of people who know he was "Harvey".

At one point, "Ritchie" sat down on the barely made king size bed, hit the Bose clock radio, changing the tune from My Sharona to I think I'm Turning Japanese. Of course. Later, DZ and I followed him into the tiny, 80's renovated upstairs kitchen where we cagily watched him almost saw off his thumb with the bread knife. I think he hacked out 4 or 5 pieces before he tired of the project, throwing it all into a colander and handing it over to us. Works.

Over the years, I have gotten more comfortable being in this movie. I used to think I was too boring, or not attractive enough to be IN the scene. I always felt like a watcher. I still feel invisible sometimes, but more and more, I see that people can see me too, participating. It helps when I am on fire, funny-wise. This is a cool movie to be in. COOL! I love cool. It's a huge reason I live in New York.

Also awesome: ManGuy, Sashay, De'ShAUnte, So Be-yoo-ti-ful, Daddy's farts make him cry, lavvy, Jessica, shoot it straight ahead! Tender duck breasts with cherry reducsh, gingerbread house with the rainbow connection and an asshole (butthole?), bathroom photos, muppets, and ManGuy again.

Year End List or Cyberlinks, My Love

Cyberwandering yields awesome results, once again!

I have never written a Year End List. But I figure if every jerk on the internet can do one, so can I. And it is an opportunity for shameless self and friend promotion:

Wait, this list is something worth looking at.

Stuff that happened to me in 2006:
Crushed out, fell in L, got crushed.
Found my best friend again, through a series of letters.
Pissed off 500 hippys.
Got my violin back from Bushwick.
Road trip to Maine!
Got a myspace page (it's still ugly so don't friend me).
Other junk I can't remember right now.
In the final hours of 2006, I learned about and subsequently fell in L with a mythical figure by the name of "ManGuy". I still haven't seen his sword, though.

This might be ManGuy, but I am not sure.

Shit. Now I'll have to make this list about 2007. I'm sure I have plenty of opinions about it. I usually do.

Can't send it, part 2

I wrote this one yesterday while distracting myself from not eating and cleaning the house.

Mister,

Part 2 of Blank Realization Day is well under way. It's past 1 and I have only had seltzer. Been able to fend off the restlessness of not eating for this long, hope I make it to midnight.

I have created a huge pile of junk to get rid of. I am listening to old mix tapes. The one on right now is from Mario Hernandez. I am on a couple of his records, clapping and shoo-be-do-wopping. Those were fun times. He turned out to be a lecherous creep in real life but I still liked singing on his recordings. I love visiting the 90s.

There is so much to do, so much to clean. I can't believe I am not allowed to eat. Every few minutes I think,"Hmmm, what should I eat?" Then I remember I am not doing that, in part so I don't get distracted from today's purpose. Getting rid of things is so useful. I like to look at the things and think about who I think I am and why I got the things, why I still have them and if I still need them. Sometimes I keep things.

It's like all day therapy. Awes.

Miss

Again,

Suddenly, my day has shape. The mix tape cleaning has ended, for now. It's not finished but it's over. We took a very large pile of stuff away. Shelf, sweaters, Marc Jacobs jacket, green lamps. Some duds, some gems. Gifts for the pickers.

I was getting so hungry, couldn't think of anything else. Perilously close to caving in. Called DZ. She's still in it. No food, only water. Gave me more resolve. 5:30 is not so bad when I know how I'll spend the next six and a half hours.

I'll type this.
I'll buy pasta.
I'll run.
I'll shower.
I'll catch the bus.
Then it'll be 9.
Movie.
Dinner!

Better get started, or I'll be late.

Can't send it, part 1

I wrote this last night when I got home. I know better than to send it out to the intended recipient, but I have to send it somewhere, so you get it.

Mr.,

Late tonight I dined on Bergen Street for the Feast of the Fatted Salmon. Raw salmon. It was ordered when I showed up at 10:55 pm. I felt cool. We talked about 2006. I didn't finish. After, we went to Freddy's. It was such a watershed moment for me; the beginning of my real friendship with DZ, Tom G., the precursor to me and Tim, the never ending video art from which I could not tear my gaze. All of it was still there, waiting for me since March 1999, the last time I was in that bar.

Earlier today, after my internet burger, cyberwandering and hipster scriptwriting, I admitted the place had bad service and walked up to the counter myself. Asked for a coffee (devil-may-care attitude in tact) and noticed a postcard laying casually on the bar. As I turned it over, 2 things blew my eyes open. 1) Friday, December 29th, 7 pm (TODAY!) 2) Tara Foley (friend from the woods, as she puts it). I went, we exchanged stories, numbers and jokes. Her mom has cancer. I am friend number 5 in NY. She is moving back. Her hot boyfriend from before turned out to be a dud. She's here until the end of January. Her mom's gonna beat it. I hope so.

Yesterday was long. I finished up in the 161 living room eating Thai food and drinking seltzer and the iced tea my favorite cook from there sported me for free, no asking. I spent 4 hours on 125 waiting to see the chocolate dead man, hoping he could breathe some life into my crushed up heart. It turns out I didn't need him or his body. My heart can resuscitate itself, given enough space, time and love. Or no space. I was smashed in with all those black people and it felt great. There have been times in my life I have been a white girl around a lot of black people and now isn't one of those times. I miss it sometimes; I am from Oakland, remember. Being up there made me feel good and happy. I kept my mouth shut. I listened, I smiled. I thought about James Brown. I thought about you.

The day began at 8:30 on my corner in Greenpoint, at the doctor. For $20, I could get my toe fixed up. I could also re-activate my quest for free health insurance provided by the city. Three hours in, a hissy-fit forced its way out and I saw the doctor. She couldn't do anything for me without a liver test. The nice asian guy drew my blood. He must have seen the small tears in the corners of my eyes because he asked me if I was OK. I thought about you, shooting drugs. I thought about the words courage and bravery. I wanted nothing to do with them, the words. I wanted a hug.

I got a call from Jessica at Bellevue. She wanted me to come in and sign more papers. I kinda yelled at her. I was frustrated. No one was listening to me. I am out of practice with bureaucracies. I went to the L train. No service. I took the bus to LIC. Made it to Bellevue, more hissy-fitting. Finally, Norma told me she'd look into my case personally, as if that is supposed to make me feel better. I have enough experience with bureaucratic BS to know that is fairly meaningless. But I was glad for the kindness. I left and went to my office, did one stitch of work.

I should have gone much earlier, because by the time I got up there, it was too late. But we didn't know that yet. I looked for the chaos and stood next to it until they put up the metal barriers next to me; I was in. I emailed and texted from the line. It was fun. They all laughed at the hobo asking for a steak sandwich. He didn't want no muffin. I laughed and smiled at the guy selling dried fruit and bottles of water for a dollar. No one was interested. We all laughed at the guy selling a McDonald's hamburger. It was fun.

Now it is now and I am listening to my soundtrack. Tomorrow is the fast and I clean my house to get ready for 2007. The computer will fun out of juice any minute now. I'll read Madame Bovary until I fall asleep. Salacious!

Ms.

chew off

would chew off a limb for a mcdonald's cheeseburger right now. I'm standing next to it. pray I get in people. pray.

closer

I am getting closer. now I'm on 125 across from pricemart. I see the apollo sign. still doesn't feel like a guarantee but I'm getting very excited.

omgomgomgomg

right now I am in line waiting to see james brown's dead body. it is amazing. I had a long thing all typed out and I just lost it so i'll try to recreate. today was a blur of medic&l bureaucracy, starting at 8:30 this morning on my corner in 6reenpoint and not quite ending in a tiny dingy office at Bellevue with a large woman named Norma telling me she'd personally look into my case because "if you're stressed, I'm stressed." ok so around noon amy's watching NY1 and asks me if I w&nt to go see james brown. I say of course. she promptly backs out but think it's something that is a good idea.

Bigger fan than we thought

You know how you'd be hard pressed to find someone who isn't a James Brown fan? Well, I guess Gerald Ford just didn't want to live in this world without him...

I have an appointment today with the Texas 4-BR dudes. $7000 EV apartment. Wish me luck!

What I think about when I am alone

Urban gymnastics? Wow. This is effing inspirational.

I don't usually think about urban gymnastics, per se, but I do think about extreme exuberance and physical effort and moving with the hand of God supporting you.

I think about being watched. A lot. I should say I think about being admired. For all the little things, like how I hold a teacup, how I move through the crowded subway station, how my eyes betray when I am working things out in my mind. I think about someone noticing that I get my metrocard out before I need it so I can sail through the turnstile without a fuss, and then that I carefully put it back in its place in the front of my little red coin purse. I think about being watched and appreciated as I perform economical yet graceful choreography in the kitchen, one of the only places I can enjoy an almost total lack of self-consciousness.

I think about math, fractions, percentages, graphs. Mostly when I am jogging. The quantifiable effort that goes along with this particular form of exercise is immensely gratifying to me. Measurable accomplishment, quantifiable effort, whatever you want to call it. When you're done, you're done. That's why I always liked math; it's so reliable. This lady is into math too, but hers could be called emotional math. Satisfying, nonetheless.

I have a lot of conversations in my head, where I get to say everything right and whomever I am talking to has all the right reactions, says all the right stuff and sets me up beautifully to show them how awesome and smart I am. Sometimes I forget that these conversations aren't actually happening and I'll say something out loud and/or gesture wildly (to make my point). On the street. Oops. Then I wonder if that guy sitting in the idling van just saw my lips move or my hand move erratically just now. Yikes!

I think about being famous and celebrated. For anything. I guess this goes along with being watched and noticed and admired. I think about being a famous artist or singer or writer or even real estate mogul which, ironically, is probably what will happen first. I think about being on a stage with a room full of people cheering me on while I do whatever awesome thing it is that I do to make them all love me so.

I can almost reach out and touch this feeling sometimes. Living in New York certainly puts you closer to this feeling on a daily basis, I think anyway. It seems so easy, so attainable to become famous here. Aside from the business and the money potential I hope to generate from Home Buying for Hipsters 2, I want this feeling, the stage-cheering one. I really think it's going to work.

Holy Moly!

I don't really feel better but I am more confused and amazed than I was five minutes ago, because of this.

Still learning. But not today.

Learning is all about repetition. For me it is, anyway. I can get it right once, which creates the possibility for the confidence to continue, but then proceed to get it wrong a hundred times after that. The theory here is that eventually, this wrong/right process leads to learning. The wrong/right ratio starts to get more angled toward right: learned.

Today is all wrong.

This is a cool heart.

This was an old post from a week ago. I must have had an idea I wanted to get down but didn't have time to complete. Oh well, now it is gone.

I'll tell you what else is gone: my positive attitude. Today anyway. After several straight nights of fitful, horrible sleep, a best/worst date on Friday night and a lame/defensive Christmas e-mail from my ex-boyfriend, I just feel ready to throw in the effing towel today. So many awesome and not-so-awesome things have happened (and not happened) lately. It would seem writing about them in this blog would be a good way to exorcise them from my (sorry, California coming up) space, but I can't seem to get the words organized into a witty, tender and insightful couple of paragraphs.

Is it because it is Christmas? Will things be OK in 2 days? Isn't the same thing going to happen next week for New Years? That's another holiday specially designed to make me feel lame and inferior. Hot stuff, right?

It always seems like a good idea to deal with pain by "throwing yourself into work" and right now I have plenty of both, along with an uncharacteristic flair for the dramatic. Is this going to be a moment for me to actually do this work-distraction thing? Or will I just choose instead to suffer and beat myself up with all my effing "feelings"?

I do have a lot to do, work-wise. Learning is also about seeing the new way to do something and choosing it, like right now choosing the work-distraction instead of the wallow. That's how I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, that's how I quit smoking, that's how I started working in real estate, the weirdest and most unstable job I've ever had. So maybe that's how I deal with right now, what's in front of me, which is a big ugly mess of feelings and real possibility.

I love lists!

I guess that's a common thing, loving lists. A year ago, when I was working with the healer, she had me stop making lists. Try to stop making lists. We worked on my letting go of the feelings tied to accomplishing the things on the lists. This is how things would go down: I'd make a to-do list in the AM, bursting at the seams with promise and optimism. By midday I'd feel lazy and lousy. Anything I did from this point on was always tainted with the failure of not getting everything done. This is also common, I imagine.

Pnina had me do energy work where I'd stop beating myself for not doing all the things I wasn't doing, basically working to be OK whether I did all this stuff on the list or not. I worked to see then clear the blocks that were in the way of easily doing all this work on my list. For a brief time, I was freed from making lists. I found myself actually doing some of the things I would have put on my lists, and juts not worrying about the other things.

For now, I am back to the lists. There is something immensely comforting about committing tasks, wants, and needs to paper. I continue to work to let go of the perceived failure of not crossing everything off. It's midday now and I can feel a list coming on, I can feel the lazy and lousy encroaching, but this year I have tools to get free of those feelings and get my stuff done!

The Fruitvale of Greenpoint

I went running on Thanksgiving. Abbreviated because of the rain, only about 2 miles. It was my first time not running on the track; instead I went down by the waterfront, by the warehouse that burned.

Some people see all that desolate, crumbling, abandoned city industrial architecture and get disgusted, think it's an ugly part of town, imagine it's all a sign of a depressed or failing economy.

Developers see the possibility of an invented neighborhood, like the one fake street that sprang up by the IKEA in Emeryville, CA: cleanly paved streets, million-dollar condos with stainless/granite/marble bullshit, city views, J.Crew, Sunglasses Hut, Pizzeria Uno, that type of thing. I think that's what is supposed to happen over there.

Don't get me wrong, I am not into hating on now only to love on yesterday. And I am a real estate agent, so I have to find some way to love what is going to happen in my neighborhood. After all, I am teaching a class about how awesome progress is.

Maybe it's too many years living by the railroad tracks in Fruitvale, staring out my bedroom window at the field, the freeway, feeling my bed rattle and shake when the train went by. I just think all that decrepit falling down building stuff is beautiful.

This just proves it

Yesterday was my birthday. For the first time EVER, I kinda freaked out the week before about the age I was turning. Not a good sign. But I reigned it in by the end of the week. Very me to tamp it down.

My best/worst birthday was 16. It was very popular that year for friends to kidnap one another before school take the celebrated one out to breakfast in pajamas. They also painted my face, but were a little disappointed that I has already woken up and showered by the time they got there. What can I say, grandma called early. We went to Biff's, which is no longer there. Fun.

A week later, I got a surprise party. Also fun. Looking back not too long later, I think everyone must have felt sorry for me because my dad had JUST died two weeks before. I had this dream on my actual birthday that he and I were sitting by a window talking. That was it. My mom said it was him giving me a present. I buy that.

As of late, I have been engaging in some mental mutilations and self-flagellation (doin' the beat-up) where it concerns the dude I was dating. Haven't seen him in forever and making decisions about what it all means. Talking myself out of things, talking myself into things, talk talk talk talk talk. Think think think think think. I am always so effing sure of myself and what I think about something that I often miss the point completely. This can happen in my drawings as well.

Thursday night I decided to text him since I was going to pass through his neighborhood on my way home from drawing class. I looked really cute but felt kind of sweaty from the long day and balmy weather. He texted right back, so I called and went over there when I got out of the train. We enjoyed a nice conversation for an hour or so and then at some point I screwed up my courage and decided to kiss him, which turned out to be a well-received idea.

We had a good time. He said a lot of nice things to me, I started to get a more well-rounded picture of who he is and how he feels about things in general and me in specific. I realized (again) that all the negative shit I think of when we are not hanging out is mostly made up. This whatever it is may not be everything I want right now, but my experience the other night just proves that when I make shit up, I am usually wrong and that really, everything is just fine.

And he's still RAD!

Listening in Secret

I have a complex about music. I think I am supposed to be really good at playing it (really I am mediocre or just average) and I definitely think I am supposed to intimately know all bands seminal and obscure, local and current, hip and underground. I am a hipster, right? This is tough.

I have long been fascinated in how people get their information, especially when it seems like that information is immediately appropriated by said hipster to look like it has been part of his or her catalog of personal taste forever. The way I get my information about music is mostly from other people. I can't really read music reviews or criticism, I find it too dull. I don't read a lot of rock and roll bios, but when I have, I have mostly enjoyed them. No, for me it's all about the mixed tape and the casual conversation. Oh, and now I look at blogs and links pages on the interweb.

Lately, I have been attempting to repair a gaping and embarrassing hole in my musical knowledge by listening to a VERY IMPORTANT indie band from the 80s, 90s and now. I can't say who they are, because I was supposed to love them starting in junior high school, like everyone else. But I didn't. In fact, I never even really heard or listened to their songs until now. Which I am doing in secret, so I can catch up. Embarrassed, but into it. The worst part is that I really like their record that came out this summer. More than the other stuff, which is good too. Not very punk rock of me. I am always behind by a least a couple of years. Late, but not super late, I am lucky I figured out the Pixies early enough (mid-90s) so they didn't fall into secret listening.

I remember my friend Jenny busted me listening to Syd Barrett in secret a number of years ago. I was mortified, but only for a second. Jenny is my friend and will be no matter what I know or don't know. She just laughed at me. I laughed at me. Now Syd is firmly entrenched as part of my catalog of personal taste forever.

The internet is an amazing and dangerous place!

I have a post in draft mode that is about real estate/nostalgia, but it needs to be edited for it to say what I mean and I don't have the patience for that right now. I just had to tell you about this site I just found during some cyberwandering. Del.icio.us is such a logical and cool idea for storing your bookmarks on the internet so they are accessible from anywhere, on any computer. I can barely wrap my head around all these new concepts I have been learning about since giving myself the OK to cyberwander. You all know what cyberwandering is, right?

Dangerous because I write emails late at night that really seem like a good idea at the time...

DZ wants a computer that doesn't have the internet on it. I think it's called paper.

Blogs are for finding stuff out

I have been reading a lot more blogs than normal for me, in an effort to do research for this project awes. biz partner and I are working on. I never really had the patience for them before, but now I seem to be engrossed in one not so peripherally related to someone I know. It's weird reading about someone you don't know but feel like you should, or will, and then finding stuff out about the someone you do know. I've never been a snooper in any other way, but something is propelling me forward through this person's life. Actually backward. In an effort to make things not so easy for myself, I am reading the entries in reverse chronological order, although the way his blog is set up, reading them forwards would be just as easy.

I really like this guy's writing. It gives me a sense of who he is, how he is, or who/how he is in my mind anyway. But it makes me feel like a creep, which I am. DZ told me about a funny experience reading this West Coast group of people's blogs. She was way deep into them (same as me, with anything I consider a TV show, like this guy's blog, which is fucked up because it is his life) and knew who they all were and somehow managed to run into them (ish) at the Whitney Biennial last year (?). I think her face burned a little bit when she realized who this group standing next to her was and why she knew them and why they didn't know her.

I dread this. And it could happen very easily. I also dread people knowing shit about me. So what am I doing writing and posting it on the internet? I like to talk. That's the only way I can explain it. What can you do? It's the internet.

Only Me

Song I cannot stop listening to today: Only You by NRBQ, thank you Bronzo. I'm gonna make myself learn it on the guitar.

I have overcast feelings. L just called to say the appointment she had today resulted in a trip to the bank to get certified checks to take the apartment off the market. Should make me happy and it does but I feel so gloomy today. Barf!

Sometimes I LOVE being single. No one has any say over my time or money or success or failure or any of it. Today I hate it. It isn't about the holiday, or I don't think it is. Real estate is a tough business for a single girl. I am a tough girl but not every day. Today, I am just focusing on feeling the feelings. FEEL THE FEELINGS!

On the plus, two friends called to say they are coming to the Milton Center for Spiritual Healing (my house) on Thanksgiving for our own brand of snackplate. One is bringing apple pie!

L just came back from appt. Client freaked out and has to sleep on it. Snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Awesome.

So far, this week sucks more than last week.

I know it has only been one day, but that day was a Monday, and of the SIX applications we put in last week, how many resulted in a close? NONE! I spoke to the gay attorney this afternoon. He found a place on his own on Saturday. Awesome. Korea told me he could wait until the right thing came up. Awesome. I hope rats eat up his designer (dressy) sweatshirts while he's out of town for Thanksgiving and he decides he has to move immediately. Awesome.

Two new clients, one seems promising. The Merrill Lynch investment banker. I'll believe it when the check is in my hand.

Also this weekend, another failed attempt to hang out with the dude. It turns out I wasn't getting his texts for the last few weeks so he thought I was blowing him off. Fuckin' technology. I am about to throw my $600 phone in the river. Don't worry, I'm a Jew, I didn't pay $600.

Gonna try to meditate my ass off to get rid of this bad attitude.

Deals, No Deals and Dressy Sweatshirts

Ughh! What a week. No resolution with either deal. Well, that's not true. The Korean was rejected by a second building. Friday was a bunch of waiting around for the nothing that happened. At the end of the day, we got a new client that seemed promising but totally came unraveled before the Saturday morning appointment. I had to fire them.

Saturday I escaped work after only an hour or so and came home to make brandade. After a delicious Euro lunch with Amy, including special pink wine I have been saving, I braved Beacon's Closet for the first time in probably a year and emerged victorious with a pair of designer jeans and a handbag I can use for work. I killed (with my eyes) 2 or 3 hipster kids who fell into my path to the cash register. Just kidding. It was a rare afternoon when I was not annoyed by but amused by/indifferent to grey ankle boots, dressy sweatshirts, multiple gold necklaces and haircuts. Probably because I have one. A haircut I mean. That and my snobby attitude toward everything are the only things about me that fit in in Williamsburg.

Hipsters don't really wear dressy sweatshirts. That is a phrase borrowed from my description of "Pot Luck Fashion" during the grandma year. You know, Christmas sweatshirts, Halloween sweatshirts, Thanksgiving sweatshirts, puppies, grandchildren's names, plastic jewels and beads? Lace? Maybe a brooch? Hey wait, dressy sweatshirts are ironic in Brooklyn, right? So I guess they do wear dressy sweatshirts. Never mind.

It's back

Insomnia. Last night, up 'til 5, awake again (reluctantly) at 8. Got stuff to do. So beat down by yesterday (emotional rollercoaster) but I want L to be able to stay home today or part of today to work on our project, which is important. This means I have to drag my ass into some cute clothes and onto the B61.

The Korean still needs an apartment. Twice rejected. Dumb reasons. I haven't told him yet. I am afraid of his mom.

The gay attorney put in his FOURTH application last night and I home to JESUS this one works out. Open listing, though.

Tonight, cocktail party at friend's home furnishings store, then off to the EV for the last Basement, which was endless fun last week.
Like I said, emotional rollercoaster, beating me down.

Scramblefuck

Wednesday was weird. Definitely the kind of day people who are not in real estate like to believe we have all day every day. The kind of day that makes people smile, shake their heads and go, "I could never do what you do!" Thursday was more of the same.

The gay attorney vetoed a huge $2000 studio on Lex and 26th, doesn't like the neighborhood and doormen "freak him out." This is fine because that apt is a co-broke so L and I would make about $12 each. Next we go see some places that have everything but are too expensive. A possibility. Last we see a cute studio w/exposed brick and mews views in the EV, also $2K. He likes it and wants to put in the app. Open listing--score! On the way back to the office, another broker calls me offering an appt for a place in the WV. Probably cute and definitely pre-war charm--in the building where that actress was murdered the other week. Co-broke. I tell him I'll call back. In the meantime, we run his app up to the mgmt office, only to find out there's an app ahead of us...FUCK!

Late in the afternoon we went to see the WV studio, which was awesome. EIK, nice bathroom, large bright room facing the back of the building, all rooms off a central hallway that make the apartment feel huge. He puts in the app there as well. When I go to drop it off at the other broker's office, I find out we are second in line--again!! FUCK!

And something else weird happens. The broker, who is very old school and kind of curmudgeonly, and who once, threatened to ban me from 1 University because I didn't follow his protocol. I sat down in his tiny office, waiting for a receipt or something and he actually called me by name (which we know I like) and asked me how it's going?! I have more to say about this subject but this post is already too long. Suffice it to say it was weird.

The sum of this back and forth is that the kid ended up putting in 4 apps on 4 different apartments. First one was with the "grudge" management company and isn't going to work. Second two we were second deal in line, didn't work. The fourth was from last night and I really hope it goes through. He actually said to L last night, "Should I get my hopes up?" SAD....

The other deal we are working on is with this Korean ex-naval academy kid, now going to NYU. His super rich parents live in Southern California and are renting him a place w/a doorman and gym for $3000/mo. The place he applied for was a co-op and turned him down, I just found out this morning. So we had a backup, but it was too expensive. I had the listings manager call to see if they'd take less on the rent. We got the offer down to $3050, AND I said I'd take a point off the fee. No go. Fuckin' people! So L called up the building to try to shake something else out (a big studio, something) and found they had just lowered the rent on another apartment, $2795. Sweet! And it's a straight deal, not a co-broke like the co-op was. He's "racing down here" with his app fees.

Getting the rest of the paperwork from the mom was like pulling teeth. At the end of biz Thursday, we found out they were rejected for some mysterious reason involving whatever they found on the credit reports. It's fucked. But I still have to find him an apartment.

On the plus side, I got a phone call from Metro Plus telling me what paperwork they need to consider giving me FREE HEALTH INSURANCE!!! Rules!

Oy, exhausted!

Crowded spaces, hectic mind

Someone on the train this morning smelled like a combo of Bath & Bodyworks and cats paws. Last night on a crowded bus, I spent a couple of stops nestled in the embrace of a stranger. I never even saw his face. I am lucky it was a he. I wish I could get someone I know to snuggle for a few minutes. My very part-time assistant and future bandmate is writing a song about something that happened to me a few weeks ago. I was riding the 7 train during the morning rush and a big tall man was rubbing his penis on my hip. Difficult to know if this was really happening, due to the crowdedness of the train, but if it was, EWW GROSS. I need another shower.

Letters are the new Blog

I love letters. I love getting letters, duh, who doesn't. But I also love to write letters. It is my favorite way of expressing myself. Even having an 88-hour conversation with a worthy companion doesn't quite match up to a well-crafted piece of personal writing, intended only for the eyes of one other person. When I know they're good, I like to read my letters over and over and imagine how they will be received.

From Sunday:

As far as Sunday night goes, I can relate. I really hated Sundays for
years and years and years. When I was a kid I used to see my dad on
Sundays; it usually involved some kind of confrontation/argument and
maybe tears, then coming home to do homework. Barf! Sometimes I
escape by pretending I am someone else who doesn't get sad and stressed
on Sunday night. Having the job I do now helps, too.

I still hate homework and now I have a ton of it. All for the purpose
of getting rich, though. And famous. But mostly rich. I know you'll
do well on your papers because I can tell you are a good writer and I
already know you are smart. Getting started is easy; just use my
winter motto: FEEL THE FEAR AND DO IT ANYWAY!

From tonight:

I went to yoga for the first time in a few weeks and it was wonderful.
I thought about you while I was there; I think you would have liked
tonight's class. Very spiritual and mellow. Jan even had some new
moves: the balance posture was called dancer; it was cool. I also felt
good because I though I was gonna suck at all of it for not going for
weeks and I didn't. I asked her if she's teaching next Tuesday night
and she said yes. If you'd like to join me next week, that'd be nice.
If not, ok too.

After mellow yoga, K came over to get some info because I am paying
her to do some work for me (I finally have an assistant, which is one
of my dreams, realized!) She brought her laptop to take notes and look
stuff up and then I got my laptop out to show her something then Amy
came in and called us "internet cafe" and asked if she could bring her
laptop too, which she did. K asked how much our croissants cost.
Instead of coffee, though, we are all drinking beers, which is not very
internet cafe of us. Well, maybe in Europe, but I wouldn't really
know.

I have always wanted to make a living writing letters and it seems, in
a convoluted way, I am getting my wish. So now I have to go do more
homework which, thankfully, is sort of about writing letters.

Newsflash, these are emails to the dude. I can't help it. It's who I am. I'm trying to learn how not to punish myself for being who I am. Plus I know, whether he writes me back or not, he appreciates my written word. I know I do.

San Francisco and the City Fatigue

My dry cough will be the end of me. I sound sicker than I am but maybe I am sicker than I sound. My voice is hoarse but not cool sounding yet. But Two Hearts in Love, which I like to play on the guitar when I wake up and when I get home, now being sung in my almost raspy, almost breaking voice, is starting to sound more believable.

I am in San Francisco again today, waiting for lunch in the cafe, tapping out these important insights as they occur, on my Mactop. The scene is complete with the dread-locked dude sitting across the garage sale end table from me reading Dumas, twirling the hairs of his soul patch.

Correction: San Francisco in the 90s. I love it.

Also in attendance? Shaggy-haired men and ladies wearing tiny pink and pilled Fair Isle sweaters, skinny pants, casually eating depressed sandwiches. Hipsters do everything casually. Just walked in: black hipster cowboy, ordering latte; sport-ass wearing baggy 501s and a Mets cap, looking lost and stressed; heavily made up pair of girls, dressed in well-cut all-black rags, palming cell phones.

I have a battle going on right now. Sometimes I find myself in the middle of a personal cinematic moment, meaning the sound track is just right (I have been so obsessed with my new boyfriend Doug Sahm, I forgot about my old boyfriend Gram Parsons, who is singing over the speakers in the cafe right now), the extras are roaming in and out of the frame at a well-choreographed rate, my internal monologue feels razor sharp. The battle is about not writing a funny, "exquisite", carefully edited slice of my day/life email to the dude. It's rough, because I like to share these moments, I like this kind of writing (like a good postcard), and I like the sometimes volley that happens as a result. But when the volley doesn't happen, I feel bad and I don't wanna feel bad.

Yesterday, late in the afternoon, right about when it started to feel like midnight but the clock only read 5:15, I came down with City Fatigue. You know it. I felt like everyone was going out of their way to knock into me, trucks and cars were making a point of hissing and honking right into my ear, subway cars screeched on purpose. In Chelsea, some big burly man smashed right into me and didn't even look back. What a dick. All that, plus aching feet, vague hunger, aforementioned dry cough, erupting at any moment, and a general feeling of being run down by life=City Fatigue.

I had been out the day before in the pouring rain, showing a building I know to be good but not better than 1 University. The client was an overly intense financial consultant who makes six figures and travels quite a bit. Not funny, asking me dumb questions, thinks the unreasonably high app fees have something to do with his income. Should put in the app but won't because he thinks there is something better out there, which there isn't. And he doesn't HAVE to move, which means he won't. Dumb dummy.

I have the sweet, young, gay corporate attorney who wants the studio apartment belonging to the brother of YWM (Young Wacky and Married). He (the brother) reminds me of Greg Moore so much I can't stand it, except the brother is painfully shy and Greg Moore has the voice of an angel. Getting the attorney into this apartment should be easy except the landlord for the apartment used to be the landlord for my company and as DW says, "there's a grudge." This means we cannot go directly to management but instead have to go through the tenant, which means we lose control. Not ideal. Well, we will do what we can, and in the mean time I continue to show apartments to the attorney, which I did for an hour or so yesterday. Tiring, but necessary.

I just lost the battle. What can I say, something just happened I HAD to share with the dude. Oh well. Dumb dummy.

Back to the blog trenches. I am working with a Korean kid just out of Naval Academy in Maryland, transferred to NYU, living in a Jakobson. His parents have given him the OK to move ASAP, but have restricted his budget almost prohibitively. He needs a doorman--rather, his parents need a doorman one bedroom for $2800 or less. Unfortunately, this is the price of a studio apartment anywhere that matters. I (actually awesome biz partner sent the email) have asked for the paperwork required by most NYC landlords in hopes of eking out a decision and the response was favorable, but since I am not in the office today, I don't know if they have followed through. It was during my late afternoon tour with him that the City Fatigue really came on strong.

I almost didn't make it to my drawing class, but I powered through, with excellent and relaxed results. At least I can get lost once a week now.

New Posts from the Now Period

Hi. Just to clarify, because a friend told me it might be confusing, my new posts from this now period start with a post called "The five points" and include emails I sent to friends over the summer. The post dates should help. These emails were loosely edited for content and appropriateness, but many people know that editing isn't my strongest point, so if anyone is confused or wants more information about something I talk about, post a comment!

Maybe dumb, maybe brilliant?

For the past 2 or 3 days, I have been obsessed with the Burg, an internet sitcom about Williamsburg. I thing it is really well done and super genius. I have been sending the link to all my friends insisting they watch it immediately, if not sooner. That kind of bossery is nothing new from me, but I digress.

This morning it occurred to me that maybe Home Buying for Hipsters<©> and the Burg could do some sort of coolaboration (no, that is not a typo. I found out today that irony is out and lame puns--wait, is that a pun?-- are IN!) for our event in January. I was so excited thinking about it today. Haven't figured out what exactly I imagine would work or be right, but I know something will bubble to the surface.

The next two months will be a lot of work for me. I have a lot to do and it will prove over and over I am sure, that I need to FEEL THE FEAR AND DO IT ANYWAY. This is my winter motto. I want to try to put in the work, even though I am afraid of both the work and the results, positive and negative.

Also, FEEL THE COLD AND DO IT ANYWAY, since I am prone to getting cold and wanting to sit on the couch and watch TV for hours. In the last few months, I have started some habits I am proud of and would like to continue. Things like cooking dinner a lot, writing, practicing the guitar and drums, running and other exercising, nightwalk, and especially not watching TV most nights. Some of these came about as a result of dating the dude, but they must have been things I wanted anyway because he isn't around much anymore but the good habits still are. That makes me feel pretty good.

November, finally all caught up.

There was a lot of stuff I missed and plenty I chose to leave out, but I am more or less all caught up telling you what has happened in the last five months of my real estate life. Now seems to be the best and most exciting time I have had in real estate. I am on the cusp, on the verge of seeing what I want come to be. It is terrifying and wonderful.

This blog site dates the posts based on when they were originated not when they are released from draft mode and actually published, so this all is a little misleading. Today, the day I am typing these words, is November 6th, 2006. The emails below are from the past week.

To the dude, on November 1st, a day I decided to work from home:

I am living in San Francisco today. The weather is gray and not too hot or cold, seems like rain but can't really get there. I spent the morning writing at home and fielding ad calls. Will spend the afternoon the same way, but in the Greenpoint Coffee Shop, listening to pretty indie rock recordings, contemplating what is means to be a hipster. I may throw up on myself, but that would be nothing new.

Heard from summer biz partner, finally. Home Buying for Hipsters<©> is on the "Approval Matrix" in this week's New York Magazine. We truly are living in strange times. I think they just want to have their bases covered in case it turns into something big, or big-ish.

To awes. biz partner:

Miss, Let's definitely get it together for our meeting Saturday w/WV. We can do it!! Also, I said I'd go to a show at Irving Plaza w/ DZ tomorrow night so no Basement.

Is this right? Tomorrow we have:
N, J, J, no L necessarily because 2 out of 3 apts don't take dogs
I'm feeling the fear but trying to do it anyway!
In Solidarity,
E

Here is the email we sent out following the NYPOST article:

Hello All of You!

L and I just wanted to share this story in today's New York Post with you and let you all know our first Home Buying for Hipsters<©> event was a big success. Thanks to Black Betty, our presenters Douglas Wagner (president of Benjamin James Associates), Lee Hamway (Pan Am Mortgage) and Scott Eisenberg (Real estate attorney).

For our information, please respond to the following:
How did you hear about Home Buying for Hipsters<©>?
Are you preparing to enter the market or already looking for property to purchase?
What has been your experience with New York City real estate/real estate professionals?
If you attended, was the presentation helpful? How?
Would you come to another free event and/or would you send friends?

We appreciate your feedback and look forward to working with any and all of you. We will be sure to let you know of future Hipster Real Estate events!

HIPSTER HANDBOOK
By ADAM BONISLAWSKI

NY Post article
Cheers,
E

Just before my meeting w/WV, I got really freaked out and decided to write emails in the middle of the night:

Do you have that fear of failure/fear of success thing too? I sure do. It extends to any creative or uncreative endeavor in my life. It causes paralysis and extreme guilt/shame for the paralysis. Cool, right? The only thing not susceptible to this intensely irritating concept is cooking.

I have this meeting with WV to show him our ideas (which I have never done and have barely know anything about!) which I had to change from Friday afternoon to Saturday morning and he seems a little pre-miffed. Somehow I see him as the gatekeeper of this thing. I totally don't have enough time to prepare in the way I want to because it turns out tomorrow should be a super busy day with appointments and maybe an application from these wacky young married kids + brother involving too much talking and guarantors in Florida. My cut would be about $2K.

I am keeping in communication with my fave sale client, but nothing is really happening there right now:

We are in agreement about real estate for the moment. A colleague and I are working on a book proposal for Home Buying for Hipsters<©>. We meet with my friend's dad tomorrow morning to share our ideas and get some further direction. I worried myself into a poor night's sleep last night but know that ultimately, whatever happens is ok.

The dude is around, marginally. We communicate sporadically, which is just fine for now. I feel busy lately (with rentals and other stuff) and, though not quite ready to let go of it all, I am a lot less attached to all of it with him. We ran into each other on the street last weekend, which was nice. Hopped a fence together. He made us hot chocolate. Fun.

(These are the things I said, and I meant them when I said them, but also I want to mean them probably more than I do. The real way I feel is that it is hard, I miss the fun and I just want to be loved and included. I am happy and living productively and enjoying every day and taking care of myself and all the other good stuff too, but it doesn't mean I am not subject to moods about dudes.)

This exuberant validation came from my friend, neighbor, fan and cheerleader (and nightwalk partner):

...the article is FANTASTIC!!! The best part is where they quoted you as saying, "...these are my people." You're like the Empress of Real Estate. FANTASTIC!!! I love that the article is pretty much just about you.

yay!

She called me the Empress of Real Estate, cute.

October

October. I am really on my way now. Rentals with new biz partner are a dream. Going really well. Two sale clients and I really feel like I am getting the hang of everything and doing it with grace. I am exercising a lot and lost 10 lbs without trying. Had to get all my pants altered. I feel good. I am sleeping better. I am drinking, which is confusing but I am trying not to judge myself, which is hard. Home Buying for Hipsters<©> is firmly in place and as soon as we have the flyer we can start to advertise. This ends up coming together at the last minute, but in the most spectacular way. We are on several Manhattan media/gossip blogs, ripping us to shreds, of course, for our amateurish presentation, but what the hell? The word hipster seems to have lit a fire, which is cool. I really feel on the verge of something great--if I can massage it into place.

Communication and dates with the dude are sporadic and confusing. I can't figure things out. The dates are always fun, but I can't relate to how he feels about things and I can't tell if we're allowed to talk about it or if that makes things too heavy. Something doesn't feel right. Mid-month I send him a long long long note firing him from dating me. Later that same night we slept together, which was super fun. Oops. Like I said, I can't figure things out. I've resolved to stop trying, which is pretty hard.

Some emails:

The meeting with L and father went well. There were awkward parts but I really tried not to (incorrectly) answer questions I am not sure about. There are lots of them. I invited dad to Home Buying for Hipsters<©> as a place where he can get a lot of him questions answered by longtime professionals of the industry. We ended up seeing 5 properties, only one of which was new to L and me--hideous. I now have to send him a bunch of spreadsheets and apt. info sheets because not only do I think they are helpful but he seems to need some paper to make it all real. The afternoon was long and tiring, but seemed very productive. Tomorrow afternoon and Monday evening I have the girl who wants to move soon. I don't know how people juggle having multiple sale clients. I suppose I will figure it out pretty soon, since that is where I am aiming myself.

I just almost threw up in a limo as it was driving in front of your house. Seriously. No, it isn't what you think. Hipster Seminar partner and I got picked up almost an hour late in front of our office by this limo to go to a broker event at the E (around the corner from your house) that was supposed to be from 2-4. I think we got there at about 3:20 after the longest, traffickiest, jerkiest, car sickest, uncool limo ride EVER! It stopped being hilarious at about 14th street and 4th Ave. I still feel sick, but maybe that's because I didn't eat lunch, trying to get all my work done in a hurry since I was supposed to go to this stupid thing and the manager was 2 hours late opening up the office. !! I was going out to Jackson Heights tonight to show property (spent all morning arranging) but then, on the walk over the P. Bridge, it started raining. A lot. Clop clop clop in my dumb heels. Who is a professional now? I can't do it and rescheduled for Sunday, which I was going to take off. I am laughing at my day, though, keeping a good attitude.

Aforementioned drinking loosened up my skillz in Spanish:

Ustedes van a venir a mi clase Home Buying para los Hipsters<©>? Especiales de bebidas, come on!! Nacho, debes decir a tu esposa que muchacha hilariosa soy. Yo quisiera pasar una noche o un dia con ustedes muy soon. Okay? Dime cuando y yo vengo.

Real estate is going well now that I ditched the not-so-hot business partner I had and got an awesome one. We are on our second deal together and have a home buying seminar planned for Tuesday. I think I sent you the flyer.

New York is cool. I saw H last week for my haircut, which was fun. Her brother is having a baby. M comes back soon from her month long trip to Europe. G should also be getting back from her trip to Japan. Where have I been? Florida and Maine. That's it. Oh, and Queens. And Staten Island.
Miss you miss,
PS. I'm YOUR biggest fan, jerk!

I forgot to call you back. I think I sent you the link to the 10/23 gawker.com story and also there should be a link to 10/23 curbed.com. The NY Post interviewed my boss and wants to meet us and is coming tomorrow night. Muy exciting!

The New York Post is coming to Home Buying for Hipsters<©>--wants to meet us. Yesterday afternoon we were on Curbed and Gawker, being ripped to shreds for the clunky flyer but hey, publicity is publicity, especially when it is free. I just hope people show up. L and I did get a few inquiries from people we didn't know. I think we actually put "look cute" on our to do list.

Friday I had a lease signing and today I am meeting with my client and the owner of a building to try to get him approved. He has bad credit. I continue to pursue my $2300 from the last old biz partner deal. If all goes well, I'll have a great month, which I need and deserve. Thanks for the vote of encouragement. I am drunk on success and my impending tiny paragraph in Thursday's Post. SO EXCITED!
People who showed up weren't snarky.

My Home Buying for Hipsters<©> was a big success. On Monday afternoon we were on www.curbed.com and www.gawker.com (you can look it up and read people's snarky comments!) and then the NY Post called my boss and he gave an interview. About 30 people showed up to Black Betty, including a reporter and photographer from the Post. I gave a clumsy interview (I was way nervous) but relaxed once the guy put him notebook away. I hope I made a good impression. If it is going in the paper, it will be Thursday. I think we will schedule another one soon and try to capitalize on our little media buzz, which is SO EXCITING!!

Well, well, well. More snarky comments on curbed.com TODAY! 10/26. I have to say, I am thrilled. I never expected the word hipster to garner such attention in the "over it" world of New York City. Just wait until I break out the word hipsterati!

More bitchy comments TODAY on curbed! Can you say, "15 minute media buzz"?

From Hipster Partner:

Milan/Bad Credit called me at 7am and asked if we could meet at 4 instead. He just finished his workday and was delirious. So he'll be coming to the office with check
around 4-4:30.

Wacky, Young and Married emailed that she wants to go for the apartment. I followed up with all the details she needs to provide, including the deposit and all, and I haven't heard back yet. Hopefully, we'll have news by mid-afternoon. And hopefully, it's not gone.

I'll be in the office by 10:30 or so. See you later.

I am practicing the guitar. I expect myself to come in by 11 or 12 but will definitely be reachable on the telephone.

Depending on what else your day entails, maybe we can go somewhere and brainstorm/take notes for our meeting. Naturally I am including you, but please let me know at any time if this is something you aren't interested in pursuing or whatever else. I think it could be good.

OK, Bad Credit, Wacky, HOT STUFF!!! She won't materialize until after 12, right? Let's get her $1000!

October closed with another couple of deals under the belt, a very successful first try at Home Buying for Hipsters<©>, a thus far a very functional partnership and lots of hope and positive energy in the job zone for me. The two sale clients are fading for now, but not gone. I am not worried about it, focusing on rentals and side projects for now.

The dude remains a marginal figure. When I stop and think about it, it makes me feel sad and a little rejected, but as Amy says, life is long and lots of things happen, you never know. Just give it air. So that's what I'm doing, giving it air.

September

September starts, I am on top of the Moon. It has been ages since I really liked someone and felt like I knew what I was doing in life. Now, I have both. I really felt on the cusp of getting it right in rental world and didn't feel to alien in the Brooklyn sale market either. I am starting to really KNOW the property in the city, GET when customers are real and when they're not, feel easy talking to them because I actually know what I am talking about. My first Home Buying for Hipsters<©> is a mere weeks away and it couldn't have come together in an easier way. I am thrilled that I am following through on something I dreamed up months ago. That never seemed to happen before.

And this hamburger. I am going to have to find a new name because that one is only fitting for the last guy. He is so great, so cool, so nice and smart and funny, I can barely handle it. Everything that comes out of his mouth makes pinch myself to see if it is all real. He likes all the same stuff I do, goes to the same school I did, studies the same thing I majored in. Stupid stuff, like drinking seltzer and doing yoga and liking Frank Black. Important stuff like going to therapy and exercising and eating right and boundaries and working toward goals. His voice, I like his voice. And he's tall enough and has a nice smile and big hands and dresses well and wears shoes, not sneakers, but shoes. And he calls me by my name. Important. A turn-on.

To my roommate while she was away:

I think I totally almost have a summer boyfriend, now that the summer is over. But it hasn't reached beyond the friend realm, technically, of my own design, because when you get physical, things get weird fast, so I'm not doing anything until I want to or am ready to. Plus I am not sure about a couple of things, like stuff he told me about himself. This afternoon we went to PS1 to view art, walked around the neighborhood, went to the park on the water and laid on the grass, sat in the other park and drank seltzer and ate raisins while he told he used to use do drugs (quit 5 years ago, supposedly). Later we came over to Greenpoint and bought groceries and made the hippy meal. He went home at 11:30. Perfect.

To the dude:

I guess I am really not cool AT ALL and am just a big prude. My biz partner told me she has a commercial client who wants to put a STRIP BAR in Prime Williamsburg and asked me to help her and I said no, I wasn't interested at all. I don't want that shit in my neighborhood. She asked me if I wanted his money (he can put a million down). I said no. Because I am still left with the consequences of the deal. I am not cool. But it feels so right! Ha ha ha..

About the dude to a friend in SF:

Your style of restraint kind of failed me in the grossest way--I emotionally barfed all over that dude that I am getting to know. It was mortifying and cringey, but I think ultimately did no harm. Ultimately. We had this too long, too intense conversation about how we liked each other and how he is not into a girlfriend (yawn) because he is all messed up over his ex. It was like all the words jumped out of my mouth and I couldn't get them back. GROSS! I realized, I think, that the intensity of the conversation was misplaced, meant for ones I never could have with the ex, but of course not about either man. Ultimately. We are going out tomorrow night again. To the opera in Central Park.

An exchange with a pop star friend who contacted me about finding them a place to buy in Brooklyn then disappeared for months, as yet not resurfaced:

Hey E,
How's the biz. What if we could scrounge 150-200K for downpayment and afford 2K/month payments? Could we get something in nyc, brooklyn, queens, anywhere? Hope all is well....

J
P.s. What's your phone number?
Sent wirelessly via BlackBerry from T-Mobile.

J,
I am sorry we haven't been able to connect just yet. I just looked at your tour schedule for this month and it looks intense! I do see that you'll be in the city at the end of the month so I am totally available and willing to get together and talk or even show you some apartments! I recommend your talking to a mortgage broker to get a clear idea of what you can afford and hopefully even get your pre-approval. I have some names if you need them.

Keep in touch as you are able, I hope to see you soon.
E

Again:

Hey J,

I'd love to see you guys at the end of the month and start up with all this house/apartment stuff if you're up for it! I am perpetually around and as of right now, don't have any trips planned. I wish you had been here last night because we had a Home Buying 101 meeting given by me and my boss. We also had a mortgage broker on hand to talk about his part in the process. It was kind of a mini version off what I want to do in Brooklyn for the hipsters. There is another event next week on Thursday but I think yous are still playing shows. You might even think about meeting with a mortgage broker to get a good idea of your finances in these terms.

Call me when you're in town,
E

Back to the email volley with the dude:

If I complete these 2 sales this year with these friends of friends people and continue to do rentals also, I should make at least what you make this year. Right now I don't quite make that.

Pesky Korean should be bring $500 to the open house I am meeting him at this afternoon. ABC! (reference to Glengarry Glen Ross, which I JUST SAW in August).

Yes, I want to have dinner later.

Him:

Just woke up. Sheesh.

Re: strip bar
I think you're nuts and entirely agree with biz partner. A strip bar is not equal to a child labor camp in Calcutta. While there may be some issues about the objectification of/compromising the woman to the male gaze (blah blah blah), the bottom line is the American greenback dollar! I appreciate your values but I'd like you better if you had a million bucks.

A.B.C.

Me:

I would like me better with a million dollars, too.

To the Bone:

Things are good in Evel's world. I have 2-3 possible sale clients, which rules. I think they will be loyal too, which is just what I need. My hair is looking awesome these days, which is also just what I need. I drink a little, about 2 drinks a week. I was having really terrible insomnia for a week so when I went to visit my grandma in Florida I quit coffee, which was easier than I thought, but I love that stuff and miss it terribly, for the taste and the ritual, not the caffeine. I am hoping to get my Hollywood Grill look (white teeth) going now that all the things that stain your teeth have been eliminated from my life. My grandma gave me some Crest Whitestrips. They are gross.

I hope this is all making you chuckle. I am having lipgloss for breakfast. Hey, it tastes like strawberries! Tell me of your adventures and insights!

To the dude:

I am at work today, supposedly I have some appointments. I look like a closer today. Still no coffee, though. More computering and looking for all cash places in G-Point. I have to go home by 5:30 so I can meet Y for extreme suffering at the YMCA. Oh, and I am bringing you the sandwich for lunch. Exciting, right?

I have my first real sale client this weekend. She is from an extended friend group. I was totally honest with her about my skills, experience and commitment. She's into it. We are going to see stuff in Greenpoint this weekend. !

To a friend in SF:

Real estate is going ok. I spent part of the summer working with this girl I don't totally love working with but we were so busy it seemed like a good idea. I am thinking it is time to start to go our separate ways, business-wise, but it is a little complicated since we sit next to one another. I have an awesome sale customer I just started working with in GREENPOINT, which is fun. I hope to have another coming soon, my pop star friends. We seem to have trouble connecting on the phone or the email in a timely fashion.

More emails to the dude:

Why? Wide awake, not tired, stuff to do tomorrow. French girls' apartment not secure, 2nd deal up, French lawyer at 10:45, no social security number, but getting picky. Only West Village, budget went up $300. Why? New client, from Sweden, works at UN, diplomat? If so, problems. Why?

These French people will be my end. Two deals pending, but no feelings of security at all.

Tonight I have a home buying meeting at my office for an hour or hour and a half. I don't know where you are as far as your houseguests, your cold, your busyness, but if you want to hang out with me you can come get me at the office when you are finished with your class.

(No dice, a sign of things to come).

I think this was a note I wrote to my cousin:

I am in NYC for the foreseeable future, no plans right now to go out there, sorry. I am trying to focus on my job/career in real estate. I spent the last year mostly doing rentals (as you know from my blog--I have been quite errant in my entries, but truth be told I got a little bored!) and am now moving slowly into sales. Tonight, in fact, I have a home buying 101 meeting at my office with some of my boss' girlfriend's friends (all women in their 30s) about the process of buying a home in New York. He will do the talking and I will be standing by ready to become their agent!

More:

90% closed a deal today, lease signing on Monday. Fingers crossed it works. After work in Madison Park listening to jazz trio and brass pops orchestra. My friend plays trumpet. Fun. I saw another broker there but chose not to say hi, even though I like him.

This Thursday, Sept 28th, there is a home buying class from 6-8 in the city. Please feel free to come. I'll send you the invite when I get it. Also, we scheduled Home Buying for Hipsters<©> for October 24th at Black Betty in Williamsburg! The planning isn't done, but so far it has been easy and natural in the way it has come together. I hope you guys can come to one or the other and when I send the email invites you should feel free to invite any and everyone. The event is not exactly how I envisioned it, but pretty close and MUCH easier. Cool, huh?

September ended and so did my partnership with the biz partner. She got a job doing something else then promptly fell of the face of the Earth. Sometimes things just take care of themselves. I had been to Michigan with my mom to a visit relatives and return grandma's old Buick to my uncle, since it seemed like it was time to retire it. I was sad about giving up the car and mourned its absence for a few weeks.

I also started to freak out about how things were going with the dude because it didn't seem as smooth and fun as it had been when we first started kissing. And it seemed too early for anything to be weird or hard or anything but great and all permanent smiles. I hated the idea that this guy I had decided was so perfect for me might not feel the same or just might not be in the same place. FUCK!!!

August

August was a weird and long month. Money was still tight but it seemed like it was only a matter of time until the deals started flowing in as promised all winter. I had a lot of action in August, but not much came to fruition. Still, though, sometime in this month, I really felt myself grow as a real estate professional; I felt the shift.

Here are more excerpts from friend emails:

Things are starting to go well in real estate land. I have merged all my biz with the girl next to me. In just over a week, we are turning in a second application, this morning. Although she can be a little hard to deal with sometimes (as can I be, I am sure, though I don't really believe this) it is nice having another person to work with. She does the stuff I don't want to do and I do the stuff she doesn't want to do. We just need to hone the communication between ourselves a bit. Sometimes I don't know what she's done or wants me to do and vice versa. Plus she is verrrrry messy. But all that is getting ironed out.

(The seeds of dissent and mistrust are already there, IN THE SECOND WEEK.)

It's hot, my feet are tired and did I mention it is hot? I have 3 or more appointments today so wish me luck in the heat!

I closed a deal today...woooohooooo!!!

And some doorman at a hotel on 32nd street asked me out on a date. I said OK. Free dinner. (He never called me). Also got another application started too...

I have been so freakin' busy in real estate world, doing sorta well, but then things unravel. I think this week I (with a partner) put in about 5 or 6 applications for rentals. About 3 or 4 of them either are falling apart or have already fallen apart. There was this one guy we called Little Rich Little, even though he wasn't little or like Rich Little in any way other than his name was Rich. He and I sweat it out in the August afternoon sun and came back to the office to fill out 2 (!) applications, both of which fell through for reasons beyond my control. FAH-HUCK!! And I just discovered that this rail thin loud tall redheaded girl who works for my company in another office was a model on that reality TV show Project Runway, which I call Project Oneway. DUH!

Time to find some coffee. Brooklyn says HI!

Real estate is going pretty well, I guess.. I feel like I am not new anymore, which is interesting. And weird. Last week, Biz Partner and I put in/collected from the clients 5 or 6 applications. Several of them are not happening or have had a bumpy journey to closing, but just putting them in is a great step for me (and her). A couple of them are going to close early this week (fingers crossed) and there are another two (groups) for whom we still have to find apartments, but we already have the paperwork. And then there are always the new people--I have 3 or 4 appointments today. ? The way we get paid works out to be the Wednesday after the people take possession (move into) the apartment, so I hope to have a great September, but for now, I am stressed because I haven't paid my rent yet. I keep expecting money to come in that isn't here yet (from catering, from reimbursements, from helping colleagues with clients) but I am still waiting.

I am having salsa salad for lunch. It is messed up and delicious all at the same time. Then I get to go to the Upper East Side to show apartments.

New York has had some really nice weather after those dastardly heat waves. Those melted the brain. Real estate is going pretty well. I started to work with this girl who sits next to me. M, you would hate her, but she would love you. She is messy and kinda sloppy and always having problems. She and I just had a big talk the other day after I had a big talk with my boss about the whole thing. Some parts of the partnership work very well, some not at all. We are trying to iron it out. All in all I am doing more business now that I have a partner, but I just have to figure out a way to keep it together once the customer puts in the application. Blah blah blah.

(Right around in here I reconnected with someone I met years ago through my ex-boyfriend. We kinda hit it off, if you know what I mean. I wrote this to a peripheral friend in Europe who knows the first hamburger well.)

I think I may have a new hamburger, which is terrifying. But not that terrifying, because it is just chopped meat. I am not sure exactly how we/I define hamburger in this instance, like is it a like or is it a bummer? Do you even know what I am talking about? I guess I think of a hamburger as a crush or an interest. Anyway I have a hamburger, a little wrong, friends with (sort of) my ex-boyfriend. Are you in Sweden? Fun times? Hamburgers? Meatballs? What's the update? Awake and confused, trying to digest more than the hamburger I ate for late dinner. Love, E

(It was then, mid-August, I started emailing the new hamburger my real estate dailys, since we had a constant email volley going.)

Followingly, I picked up checks on the deal for 50th and 1st (yes!), met with the hot business pilot who screwed himself by leaving town for the last two weeks (no place to live now), but they can extend their move in date. I want to make him happy not only because he is attractive and a pleasure to work with AND has a pilot's license AND a plane, but because if we put him into a good apartment now, he will use us again and send friends our way.

Just after that, some faxing, phone calling and a frantic man who needs a $1600 studio. I have one for $1400 on 11th and 1st. Let's meet in 20 minutes. Okay. He didn't show up and his phone didn't work. At least the landlord was in a good mood and told me the story of how he met his new live-in girlfriend via a Craigslist ad for freight shipping from San Diego to New York. I wanted to die the entire time he was talking. Please, let my phone ring NOW NOW NOW!!! Next I am off to 20th and 5th to get the rent stabilized leases for 50th and 1st. Still have to get them up to her. What else. There's a bunch of to do items that didn't get done. Fail City.

At least I am wearing sneakers today. I saw a woman on the subway wearing a shirt that said, "Hey: I am the SHIT!" she didn't look like the shit. I wish I were better at meditating so I could get the instant relaxation from that instead of drinking. FUCK!!! Guess I should meditate on that.

Sleep? Horribly. It's going to be a crab attack pretty soon unless I sleep well. The morning is gorgeous, though, and I'd like another day off to wander around and sit on grass and benches drinking seltzer. I am wearing a cute outfit and having a good hair day, so I feel I may be unstoppable, even with the handicap of another poor night's sleep. (Flirting).

I have to get that Pfizer exec her blank lease and try to pin her own to a schedule so I can arrange the lease signing for tomorrow afternoon. Seems like a headache, but it has to be done. OK, I just took care of some of it. Now I have to take care of my Florida plans, letting my cousin know when I am showing up. More phone and email.

I have insomnia this week. It is a drag. I have trouble falling asleep and then I wake up at 2 or 3 for a little while. In the morning when I have to get up, it's hard, but not horrible. Today I totally crashed at around 4:30 pm, but could not get myself into a situation where I could rest so I missed my window then was awake later.

Real estate is fine, moving. I had a lease signing this afternoon, which was great but took too long. I think my partner is setting up a bunch of appointments for tomorrow. Friday I am going to Ft. Lauderdale to surprise my grandma for her birthday. I'll be down there until Tuesday morning. Hope I can sleep there! No email!

The Russian is always saying "You can't close Indians."

Work is super dead. I was so bored yesterday I just wasted time chatting and window shopping with two other agents until I felt like I could go home at 4:30. I was supposed to have 4 appointments but nothing materialized. At least today I have two tasks that are real and have to get done.

August ended with a real estate fizzle but September promised much, much more. I had met my first real sale client, a peer, a new friend, someone I could be honest with and learn along the way to getting her an apartment. I was thinking of ways to get out of things with the Biz Partner since I realized that things weren't really working between us. I was DATING SOMEONE SUPER AWESOME!

Catch Up in June and July

I went to California for the entire month of May and felt a lot of pressure when I came back to New York to have a busy, productive and lucrative summer in real estate.

Things didn't exactly unfold as I might have expected and there were lean times in the hot weather. I tried to stave off the feelings of incompetence and failure, because that shit never helps. I did notice some sad and depressed feelings hanging around in my space, probably leftover energy from last summer, which was such a sad time for me. Despite all of the doubts and insecurity, I managed to stop feeling like a new real estate agent sometime around July.

The paragraphs and entries that follow are edited versions of emails I sent to friends in the last few months, chronicling my attitudes and experiences.

Real estate is going ok. I am trying not to get beat out of $1000 by some shady agents in my office and also trying to stay positive and look forward. I expect paperwork from a Russian guy for his daughter by tomorrow morning, and I have a showing at 11. I think the guy should take the apartment because it has what he describes he wants. I have to get back on my ads, which have slid in the last two weeks. This morning a client stood me up at 8:15 in the morning on the upper west side. Who does that? Lame, but moving on.

(I got my $1000--actually it was more like $1200--because I stood up for myself. The Russian daughter flaked and took a sublet from a friend. She contacted me through an ad a few weeks ago but then never responded to my email. The stand-up guy was actually very nice. He also called me a week or two after he stood me up and we saw three or four apartments together. It seemed like he was on the verge of renting this place I showed him in Williamsburg but then he went MIA again.)

I understand the wall of work. I, too, have been embedded in one since I got back. It has been a challenge to find time for myself, especially time to take care of my body. The South American is driving me up a wall (of work) with his prissy self. He needs closets. He somehow manages, without a social security number, to get a New York City landlord to agree to rent to him, and now he wants closets too? I am trying really hard to just let go of the whole thing (that sounds like a paradox), since it has been nothing but a headache from the beginning. Did I mention I will probably only get about $900 for 2 months of work with them? If that. I am venting. I am really tired. In fact, I am engaging in some childish pretend time management mishapping to get out of someone's birthday drinks on the Upper West Side. The whole thing makes me want to burst into tears, which is just fine, since I have the house to myself tonight. It's all too much to even blog about.

I just learned a new way of updating my ads that I hope is real, because it is waaay less work than the other way, which makes me want to run screaming from the computer or at least play solitaire for 5 hours. I had a good month of July, but I still have to fight for some money which should be coming my way but I don't totally expect it--long story...

(This next one was to some friend of a friend who has some mysterious Williamsburg real estate connection--a developer or something. I am still waiting to hear more..)

Sorry it took so long for me to email you after our rainy encounter. I am officially contacting you to learn more about the real estate biznesse situation we talked briefly about. I'd like to know more and if there is a way I can participate. Maybe there's a way I can integrate what you've got going into my plan??

My deal is this: I work Manhattan rentals for now, but I'm planning with a few colleagues to write and teach a free class in Brooklyn/Williamsburg about home buying, mortgages, etc, tenancy in common, forming small co-ops, etc. to buy property. I call it Home Buying for Hipsters <©>. After the awesome and dynamic presentation, there's a rock show! Bands to be determined. The idea here is to present myself in a positive, professional light, counteracting the automatic feelings of mistrust most people have for real estate agents by first giving away something for free, then associating myself with coolness. Get it? What's your deal?

(This was right as I started working with biz partner #1)

Summer is hot and kinda fun, not wildly fun. Real estate is tiring but hopefully becoming more lucrative, now that I am working with a friend at work. She's a little spazzy and messy but will do some of the things I don't like to do and vice versa. We shall see...