Every New Yorker's worst nightmare. Again.

I need to move.

This realization came to a head as I came home last night to the shrieking sounds of really bad jazz music emanating from apartment 1F at concert volume. As I checked my mail a dude banged on the front door and yelled for me to let him in. By New York standards that isn't so bad, but on top of the neglectful management, lazy (and insane) super, bug sightings and disrespectful tenants it really got to me. I pretended not to hear him and shuffled upstairs and home. I greeted the cats with, "Okay, number one, number two... It's time to go."

So I'm looking into a new place, and this time I'm ready to sacrifice creature comforts like living alone for more important features, like safety and a building that doesn't make me feel like it's a disaster waiting to happen. $2000 buys a lot more for two than $1000 does for one.

On craigslist there seem to be some reasonable options in decent neighborhoods...the main thing is having the time to go check them out. This is the suckiest part about living in New York, to me, finding an apartment. It's not really that difficult to find a place (as evidenced by me winding up in Lefferts), it's just difficult to find THE place, the one that makes you happy to hang your hat there.

Other people I know pay a lot more for their Manhattan abodes. $1200 seems to be the low, with Cousin JM topping the list at $2250 for her West Village cubby hole.

If not for Penny and Lu, I might consider a tiny cubby of my own somewhere in Harlem or on the Upper East Side. I could do it, with a roommate or four. I could make something work for $1000 a month. I might even be able to live further downtown than that. Would I be happy though?

I actually think I would. I probably wouldn't ever be home anyway...I'm not now. I'd probably spend less time commuting and more time running home to change before going out. I might not have a couch, but at least I'd have the City That Doesn't Sleep as my front yard.

The main reason I can see to stay in Brooklyn is more space for less dough. But I didn't move to New York City to be a farmer, I moved here to be where the action is and to experience the craziness of the big city. I don't want to schlep home late on a Saturday night for three hours on the train, I want to take a cab for ten bucks and be there in fifteen minutes. I want to meet up with friends in neighborhood bars. I want to the sirens and traffic to sing me to sleep.

I want this very badly. But $650 a week (before taxes) is just not enough for that.

Someday... Until I can count on $1500 a month for rent though I will continue to count my blessings. I have a good job on a good show with great people. I have some really sweet friends. And of course I have my lover, New York City.