Part 5 In Space, No One Can Hear You Scream

That night  l passed  a lone shoe oddly sitting in the middle of the sidewalk on 1st ave.  I stopped and just stared at it and wondered why only one shoe? What happened to the other shoe?  Shoes are supposed to be in pairs.  I truly felt that shoe's loneliness.  And right then and there, I decided to use the image of that lonely size 9  shoe to write a pretentious metaphor.

The first night sleeping in my new apartment was surreal.  It was very Philip Guston.  Philip Guston  started out as an Abstract Expressionist painter who took a sudden turn down a creative path and went from the abstraction of that period to bizarre cartoony images of disembodied heads,  hob nailed shoes, hooded klux klan men painting chomping on a  big cigar or cigarette. The critics hated it.  But, to me, it was a brilliant expression of his own disembodied mind and soul, isolation, and paranoia--that also paralleled  the same disembodied  mind and soul and paranoia that the country was experiencing at the time.  

It was a period in my life of discoveries.  I discovered many things.  I discovered that the fitted sheets I brought from home didn't fit my bed so the ends popped everytime I was on it.  I discovered that some guy named Joey lived in my building because all night his friend kept yelling under my window "Jo-eyyy!  Jo-eyyy!!!! Jo-eyyy,  I got that thing!"  I discovered that to stop the toilet water constantly swirling  I had to jiggle the handle everytime I flushed   I discovered my upstairs neighbor was the worst kind of insomniac.  One who wore dutch clogs.

Laying on my new CB2 modern couch that had all the comfort of a trampoline, the movie of my marriage played in my head.   I couldn't help play over and over again all the mistakes I had made.  My wife was a saint, a good hearted woman and we both worked on trying to keep the marriage together.  But, to be honest, I wasn't the easiest person to get along with.  I was a bit, how shall you say intense.   And there were many incidents that must have been very hard for her. Like that one incident on the plane,  when we went on vacation to Aruba.  I believe after that, it was the beginning of the end.

                                                    

Eventually  the soothing voice of my neighbor wafted through the thin walls  and rocked me to sleep: "I'm not leaving the apartment I lived in for 30 years! You hear me!   I'm not leaving the apartment I lived in for 30 years!   I'm not leaving!  You can throw me out in the street for all you want!  I'm not leaving!"

Part 4 Conquering Space

This is it!  A new beginning.  I've traded the 7:17 from Scarborough Station listening to Andy the death lawyer talking to Jerry the bankruptcy lawyer about  how the  Trump Golf course "is some course, I got to tell you." to taking the 6 train to 51st street listening to a guy with a tattoo on his forehead talking about why Glocks are number one and all that other shit is shit.

Now the hard part.  I had to actually furnish the apartment.


 I thought this was the perfect time to change my style.  To create an entirely new theater where my new life could play out.  That would capture the essence of my reawakened soul.

I thought: what about something that really reflects the wild vibrancy of my creative mind.  Something cool. Modern--and, boy wouldn't it be great to have a bathroom door in the shape of a giant sphere. I would  live out a new theme in my life: Modern Man Living in Apt 6E.

                                                      
I kind of liked the visual in my head, but then it occurred to me.  The giant bathroom door sphere wouldn't fit in the elevator and moving it in the middle of the night when I have to pee would be a pain.  So then I thought, you know, with my head filled with thoughts like a freight train that never seems to end,  why not something minimal, calming.  Zen.  Yeah, zen.  Peaceful.   A place I can go to find peace and serenity.  To reach a state of non being-but with a 46" flat screen and DVR.

                                          

Ah, who am I kidding.  Inner peace would drive me up the wall.  Wait! What about an interior  design that would reflect my softer side.   A Laura Ashley vibe?

                                      
Hmm, not sure if my gap jeans, my  gap shirt with the sleeves too long, my blue Sweat shirt that screams NEW YORK and the kind of fast, neurotic gum chewing style I have would match the pattern and look.

Eventually I finally decided I would order my couch, a white dining room table, rug, and bed from CB2.
It would all be delivered on the same day.  No anxiety.  Simple.

                                        
By 1 PM--boom, I was moved in.  My crib has been created.  I soon discovered one sticking point to this particular interior decorating idea... every time I walked into CB2 the show room floor looked exactly like my apartment.   All I had to do was stand in the middle of  my apartment and say "One minute I will be right with you" and it would me CB2.   But the anxiety of picking myself up from where I lived for 20 years and dropping myself in a new space was pretty fucken heavy.  Note the use of "fucken" to give added weight to the weight I was feeling.  And this was an easy solution.


The first night alone in the city, single, living apart from my family, was really hard.   Man, it was lonely.
And being in the middle of hundreds of people who appeared to be living happy lives, can be even lonelier.  The only human interaction I had that night,  was with a homeless guy who said I looked like Grizzly a guy he use to hang with and drink pints of Thunderbird in front of the kitchen supply store on Bowery.


Homeless Guy:  Nah, you ain't Grizzly.  Sorry, man, if you were I would have said you owe me a pint cause that last sip wuz suppose to go to me."


You may have noticed there is a running theme through this, or an emerging theme.  That is, there are moments where I see my life as  scenes of all the movies and all the art that affected me.

                  

But there was one saving grace that night.  As I walked down 14th Street,  I heard a young girl about 16   screaming wildly into her phone at someone.  Full tilt violent angry screaming.

Girl: "You better listen to me, Bitch!  You listening to me, Bitch!  Bitch, you don't talk to me like that.  I'll come down there and slap your ass around!  You hear me, Bitch!  Bitch, don't you hang up.  You better not hang up, Bitch."

She was screaming like a wild girl  from Union Square straight down to 1st Avenue where I lived.

As I followed her, recording dialogue  any writer would dream to write, she screamed for the entire world to hear:

Girl:  Suck my dick!  You hear me, bitch, suck my...

Right then she paused.  Thought for a second  about what she was saying.  And quickly corrected herself.

Girl:   Suck my son's dick, Bitch!  Bitch, you hearin' me?  Suck my son's dick!

 A thread of sunshine broke through the dark clouds.

I was home.  I'm back home where I belong.

                                        

                        

Part 3 Space Travel

I decided to rent an apartment in Stuyvesant Town.  Stuy Town was a middle class housing development  built for returning veterans and their families.  For decades, the rents  were low and stabilized.  Until a real estate company bought it and thought they could make a mint if they got  rid of the tenants who are paying something like $1,200 for a two bedroom,  and then jack up the rents to the usual "holy shit!"prices of a luxury apartment building. What a brilliant idea: let's turn a new york city housing project  into Trump Plaza!

But my first ten years on this earth were spent in the ny housing projects.  So in an odd, maybe sad, and ironic way, I have come full circle. So I felt quite at home with puke in the hallway on Friday nights, broken elevators, maintenance guys who interned at Riker's Island and look in your closets when they fix the toilets when you're not at home.  When I first went to see the apartment, I met the neighbor right across from me.  First I heard the peep hole on the door open and saw an eyeball going back and forth like a scene out of a Wes Craven movie.   Then the door opened a crack and my neighbor  -who I'm sure has the number of the funeral home and directions to her grave site  tacked on the bulletin board  - peeked out. I found her to be a very delightful woman who truly had a gift for making people feel quite at ease.

Me:   Hi, I'm your next door neighbor.

She stood there without saying a word.

                                          


Me:  Hi.   Moving in next week.  Just separated from my wife.

No response.  I just stood there, me looking at her, she looking at me.

                                    
 Finally, she said something.

Woman:  You're a Jew?

Me:  Well, yeah, I was born Jewish--but not really a practicing Jew.

                                        

Woman:  A lot of Jews lived here.

Me:  Really.  What a coincidence.

Woman:  The real estate company wants me out.

Me:  Who?

Woman:  The real estate company who bought it.  They want me out because I'm paying $600 a month rent.  And they want to raise the rents.  How much is your rent?

Me:  Well, it could be a bit more than you're paying.

Woman:  They want to toss me out of the apartment I lived in for over thirty years!
But I'm not going!  You hear me!  I'm not leaving the apartment I lived in for over thirty years!

Me:  Well, it was really nice talking to you, uh, hope to see you around.  If you need anything, I'm right here.

                                        
She stared at me for a good two minutes.  And then slowly shut the door.  I then heard six door locks being locked one after another.


I opened the door to my new apartment.  It was a nice apartment!  Very spacious.  I have a view of the Empire State Building.   Good size bedroom.  And for a quick second, I was excited to be in the city, and in a new life.  I shouted for joy.  My words echoing in the empty space.

 Me: "Wow, what a space (space, space, space....)

Now I had to fill the space up.  Both the space in my apartment and- to be totally truthful - the space in my heart.

I felt at the moment I was living inside the last ten minutes of Antonioni's L'Elcipse.  A  film about the emptiness of modern day life.

Part 2 Connecting to the New Life.

I was now a bachelor!   No more nodding to Mr. Rogan my next door neighbor who for some strange reason sat on a red white and blue lawn chair sunbathing  in the middle of his drive way listening to Pavarotti sing Pagliacci.  Or go over to the Bluestone's and talk for four hours about the new lawn chairs they put  around the pool.


 None of this happy normal shit for me.    No, man, there's still hair on my head, I have six pack abs. And I can see the kind of life that's just waiting for me out there!!!

First I needed to find that cool bachelor pad where  women will know the second they step into the pad that the Gap Shirt Circa 1995 I wear is a ruse.  I did up a sketch for the  kind of pad I was looking for.

Shouldn't be a problem.  Next day, I went on Craigslist.   After scrolling down the romance section and saying that would have to wait I clicked on the Apts/Housing.  And boom.  I found it.  One of a Kind Apartment!

$2350  - One Of A KIND! VERY COZY-- NO FEE -

Immediately I found something that interested me.  A one-of-a-kind apartment.   That's what I want  Something no one else has.  Something that is not two of a kind, but one of a kind. And it was cozy.  The ad said no broker fee. So I called the number and got someone  named Ari.  He had an accent that I sensed was Israeli.   Israeli and no-fee.  Hmm, didn't seem to go together.

I called Ari.  It sounded like his office was in the middle of the FDR Highway.
He answered the phone.

Me:  Hello.

Ari:  Hold on, please.   (He yells to someone else)  Fuck you, too!  (He then speaks to me).  Yes.  Hello. Elegante' Real Estate.  Ari speaking

Me:   Yeah, I'm interested in that ad I saw in Craigslist,.  One of a kind apartment.

Ari:  Which one of a kind apartment?  We have lots of one of a kind apartments.

Me:  $2350.  Cozy.  No Fee.

Ari:   Oh, that apartment.  Yes.  Still available.   But you better hurry--a very nice couple may put in bid today.

Me:  Location says it's in Gramercy.  Very cool neighborhood.

Ari:  Yes.  Very cool. Nice neighborhood.    Better hurry, just got e mail from guy who wants to put a bid on it today.

Me:  What's the address?

Ari:  431 East 19th St.

Me:  431 East 19th St.  That's not Gramercy.

Ari:  It's East Gramercy.  Better hurry, just got an e mail from a Doctor who wants to put a bid on it today.

I ran down to East 431 East 19th St.

I spotted Ari right away.  He was the guy who had greasy flammable hair,    We walked up five flights of stairs.

Me:  Five flight walk up.  Whew.

Ari:  That's another reason why this is a beautiful apartment.  You don't need to pay for gym membership.  Do cardio every day.  You're going to love.  Big love.  Everyone wants this one.

He open the door.

Ari:    Watch your head.

Sure enough, it was one of a kind.   Actually it was half-of-a-kind.

Me:  Hmm, not sure how I can place my rotating round bed, surround sound system, 50 inch flat screen plasma, my hot tub, my red lights for that special moment, my sub zero fridge stacked with Crystal Champagne.

Ari:  No problem.    Just be  creative.

I repeated the same experience with guys named Uri, another Ari and Schlomo.  It seems the Israeli's cornered the shit apartment market in ny.  Every apartment I saw was Film Noir.  Swinging bare light bulb swiping ominous shadows on the wall.  You could hear the voices of ghosts of plain joes sweating the dog day ny heat in wife beater tee shirts, waiting for the hit man to knock on the door and finish the contract.

I began to learn apartment hunting language:  cozy meant  it was the size of a postage stamp.
Quaint meant the walls had vines growing on it.  A steal is exactly that.  They want to steal your money.
Northwest light mean the light fixtures were on the other side of the apartment.  A Jr. One bedroom meant it was actually a studio apartment with a wall and the bedroom was a perfect size for Jr.
And almost half of the ads had one photo.  The lobby.  No photos of the apartment.  That was a strong sign.  And almost every apartment seemed to be over three thousand dollars!   For lots and lots of money you get an apartment so small, the only thing that will fit would be an ottoman.

$2950 / 2br - *Alluring Newly Reno. 2Br Or 1Br W/Lrg Home Office* NO FEE* - Alluring means once you get there they tell you the apartment is sold then show you some hole for a thousand dollars more.

$2300 / 1br - ✭W 80's*SSTL APP*Huge LR*Open City Views!! - (if you lean your entire body outside the window with your feet holding onto the window sill.

$1700 / 2br - CALL RIGHT NOW....VERY BRAND NEW! 2BR/FULL BATH - (EASTWILLIAMSBURG- (East Williamsburg.  Which basically means some godforsaken place  in Brooklyn where you can buy a balloon of heroin with the brand name: The Death Machine.

$2595 Furnished Large Alcove Studio for Rent - 49th / 2nd Ave - Alcove studio means there's a big wall in the middle of the apartment and you can forget getting that 50" HD LCD tv.

$3000 / 1br - **PARK AVE**Massive**No Fee**750+SF**New Reno**Pre War Doorman** - (Upper East Side)--The Pre War Doorman means the doorman is about 95 years old, was too young to fight in World War I, and it will take him fifteen minutes for him to walk to the door as he keeps saying.  "Hold on, hold on, hold on..."

$775 / 1br - great condition safe area. 5 min walk to BC, #2,5,Target. Furnished -Furnished generally means there's bed bugs.  And of course the big selling part is you're  near Target.  

$1000 / 1br - Duplex One Bedroom, Free Dish, Free Alarm, All New! - The Free Dish is exactly that

A  dinner plate left over from the tenants that left.  The free alarm means the next door neighbor will wake you up with his smoker's cough every morning at 4AM.

 I was lost.  Completely lost.   What am I going to do?  How am i going to find an apartment?  I barely can find two socks that match.


I had no home, no family, no dogs, no hair.   And I  noticed  right away I had  the first symptoms of depression and dark  despair.  I began to understand Sartre.

I

Part 1 Glad you stopped by

 I am creating a blog about being separated and being single again.  Oh, sure, there would be a lot of other blogs I would like to create.  Like being separated and having a girlfriend  who is much younger than I am and is killing me with her sexual demands.

   Feeling isolated from the world, my family, and someone I've been connected to  for over 20 years is an unfortunate and sad by product of separation. But, being separated or divorced in 2011 is not the same as it once was. The social network has changed even the  emotional landscape of separation. I  now have a large family.  A family of millions.

You.

The back story:  I was born in Brooklyn.  In Apt 6F.  We then moved to Queens.  Apt 2H.  Then I moved into the Manhattan at age 21--apartment 5B. I began to work in advertising, went through a lot of drugs and one night stands and hard core new york city night life partying.  Then I met my wife, got married and went from this:

To this:

 

  We moved to a big house with a lawn and the only people you see are women in pink jogging outfits power walking and talking about how Laurie Kulman is screwing the tennis pro at Club Fit.  I would also like to point out here the name of the gym in the town is called Club Fit.

I suddenly found trapped  in a house in the suburbs.   I was like Gus  the neurotic polar bear at the Central Park Zoo.

Gus the neurotic bear - polar bear in New York City Central Park Zoo

He doesn't want to be here anymore. He wants to be set free," says a mother to her child as they watch in an aquarium window. 

Eventually freedom came.

 One night, while I was watching Goodfellas on TV. my wife stood in front of the television.

The dialogue from Goodfellas suddenly became a bizarre soundtrack over the movie called My Life.

Henry: You're a pistol! You're really funny. You're really funny!

Tommy: What do you mean I'm funny?

Henry: It's funny, you know. It's a good story, it's funny, you're a funny guy!

Tommy: [dangerously] What do you mean? You mean the way I talk?

[Everyone becomes quiet]

Henry: It's just, you know, you're just funny. It's funny, the way you tell the story and everything.

Tommy: Funny how? What's funny about it?

Anthony: Tommy, no, you got it all wrong —

Tommy: Oh, no, Anthony. He's a big boy, he knows what he said. [to Henry] What did ya say? Funny how?

Henry: Just —

Tommy: What?

Henry: Just, ya know, you're funny.

Tommy: You mean, let me understand this, 'cause, ya know maybe it's me, I'm a little fucked up maybe, but I'm funny how? I mean funny like I'm a clown? I amuse you? I make you laugh, I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean funny? Funny how? How am I funny?

"I'm done!.  It's over!  I want you out!"

Tommy: No, no, I don't know. You said it! How do I know? You said I'm funny. How the fuck am I funny? What the fuck is so funny aboutme?! Tell me, tell me what's funny!

[Long pause]

"Did you hear me!  I want you
out!"

Henry: Just... you know, how you tell the story, y'know —

Tommy: No, no, I don't know. You said it! How do I know? You said I'm funny. How the fuck am I funny? What the fuck is so funny aboutme?! Tell me, tell me what's funny!

[Long pause]

I said: "Honey, you're blocking the tv.  I can't see."


And that was that.   The next day I began looking for apartments in the city.

The changes at this point in my life are very profound.

I am now me.  Not us.   I am now "my ex".

And I am hoping to connect.  To someone special.  To new friends.  To another life.













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