(no subject)
It is a nice day out. I am sitting in the weird little part-airshaft, part-deck in my apartment. There is a little bit of breeze and a tiny bit of sun. It is really warm in San Francisco this weekend. It's too hot for the locals, I think, but just right for me. It's like those rare late spring days in New York right before the humidity gets stifling.
I'm trying to make use of the good things about this apartment before I leave it for good at the end of May. I will have been here almost a year, which is hard to believe. I like the apartment and I like the neighborhood, but I've let go of a lot of the sadness I had about leaving. It will be nice not to feel anxious about running into Bike Femme or one of her fellow cult members every time I leave the house. It will be nice not to have to go out of my way to avoid her block. And I'm disheartened by the young gentrifier vibe going on here. All these wealthy 25-year-olds with thousand dollar bicycles and little storefronts for skateboards and t-shirts. I don't kid myself that I'm going to escape gentrification; after all, in the zoomed out view, I'm one of them. I think it can be less ridiculous than the Mission, though. This place gives Williamsburg a run for its money.
But speaking of moving, I'm starting to look for real. Just starting. But I think I'm going to look at a place today. I'm not sure what to do about my sad credit and sketchy job sitch, but I'm just going to start trying. I'm going to practice going into housing situations as if I'm a legit human being and not desperate.
In other news, I've been thinking about writing recently. Pretty frequently. But not doing anything about it.
I'm trying to make use of the good things about this apartment before I leave it for good at the end of May. I will have been here almost a year, which is hard to believe. I like the apartment and I like the neighborhood, but I've let go of a lot of the sadness I had about leaving. It will be nice not to feel anxious about running into Bike Femme or one of her fellow cult members every time I leave the house. It will be nice not to have to go out of my way to avoid her block. And I'm disheartened by the young gentrifier vibe going on here. All these wealthy 25-year-olds with thousand dollar bicycles and little storefronts for skateboards and t-shirts. I don't kid myself that I'm going to escape gentrification; after all, in the zoomed out view, I'm one of them. I think it can be less ridiculous than the Mission, though. This place gives Williamsburg a run for its money.
But speaking of moving, I'm starting to look for real. Just starting. But I think I'm going to look at a place today. I'm not sure what to do about my sad credit and sketchy job sitch, but I'm just going to start trying. I'm going to practice going into housing situations as if I'm a legit human being and not desperate.
In other news, I've been thinking about writing recently. Pretty frequently. But not doing anything about it.