My Enthusiasm Is Curbed
I would be in dereliction of duty if I didn't congratulate Lockhart on Curbed's one year anniversary. So I'll do it in the only way I know how...
Honestly, real estate bores me to tears and I could count the number of times I've read the site on one preoccupied hand. I think for the first couple of years you live in NYC, maybe 3, real estate is the all-consuming preoccupation of your daily thoughts. Everything revolves around it because it's such a huge drain on your monthly expenses even though you spend most of your time trying not to be in your apartment. You become a prisoner in this new and strange world of:
(sing to the tune of "It's the End of Rent Stabilization As We Know It (And I Feel Fucked))
Broker fees, no-fee apt lists, Craigslist, nightmare stories of finding a place to live and staying on friends' couches, all-encompassing bad roommate situations (deserves its own list), six story walk-ups, the luxury of an elevator and maybe a doorman, converted 1-2-3 bdrms for 2-3-4 or more people, looking at a fuse box that pre-dates the Statute of Electricity, experiments in dry wall and shelving, broken toilets, showering at the gym during week long hot water boiler repairs, clumps of ceiling that fall due to bathroom leaks from apt above, floors with the topography of a golf course, lazy or nowhere-to-be-found supers, taking landlords to court...even for attempted murder, convincing yourself that you can actually throw a party in your tiny studio, heating and cooling your giant loft deal of the century, bedroom views of brick walls, no kitchen, half a kitchen, bathrooms in kitchens, six apartments in six years, worries of that new trendy grocery or bars will raise the rents, subway line considerations, making comments like:
"should I finally move to Brooklyn?", "Astoria can't be that bad, right?", "I would never live above 14th Street", "I'm all for/against gentrification", "SAY NO TO GREEDY DEVELOPERS WITH NO COMMUNITY TIES!", "whoa, are you sure it was a rat?", "I really really wish I never signed that lease", "now this is an awesome roof, I bet you could sleep out here during the summer", "yeah but think of the all money you're gonna spend taking taxis on weekend nights", "that's too too far out on the L", "the commute is really not bad, it's on the F line", "I would love to live in this place...if I had a million dollars", "what the hell goes on up there? do they rearrange their fuckin' furniture every goddamn night?", "how do I measure square footage with this stupid thing sticking out all crazy-like?", "whoever designed this was a real asshole"
hearing neighbors have sex, never knowing your neighbors but still trying to figure out the coitus-in-stereous couple through your door's peephole the next day, passive-aggressive notes left above mailboxes or on front door like "PLEASE be a good neighbor and make sure you shut the door securely or we will all be victims of ass-rape" and "To whoever keeps taking my New York Times, you're invited over for brunch every Sunday, Apt 6W. Bring some reading material!", and neighbors who complain about your party at 2am on a Saturday night and finding yourself screaming at this douchebag in the hallway, "I don't give a FUCK what kind of doctor you are!!"
Of course these lists could go on forever but I ask, does it ever really get old? Hold that thought, you're wrong. The answer is absolutely yes, it really does get older than the 400 year old ladies you see in Chinatown. I would address commercial real estate but I have even less of an opinion on that. New buildings go up, groups of people always try to fight it, they lose. Protests surrounded the construction of the Chrysler Building as well as the original World Trade Center to no avail, this will go on and on forever with every new project.
Real estate is the cocktail conversation topic that barely manages a pulse and every attempt to escape its death sentence should be made. It's worse than bringing up religion or politics. At least with those...shit, I'm coming up empty on an intelligent "at least with those" remark with worldly insight. I dunno, I'm sure it has something to do with people, money, and assholes. That said, there's a huge and limitless audience for this stuff. Never underestimate the depravity of human interaction.
So I offer sincere congrats to Lock on a fantastic year that brought many tk, tk, tk that are accomplishments any blogger would be proud to own and I hope you have many more. You run a class operation and the only thing holding you back now is the Gawker Media plank walk of death you're on. It's gonna drown your superior name in a sea of editorial mediocrity. Ditch that sinking pontoon and set Curbed's course for Sag Harbor. Home, James!
Honestly, real estate bores me to tears and I could count the number of times I've read the site on one preoccupied hand. I think for the first couple of years you live in NYC, maybe 3, real estate is the all-consuming preoccupation of your daily thoughts. Everything revolves around it because it's such a huge drain on your monthly expenses even though you spend most of your time trying not to be in your apartment. You become a prisoner in this new and strange world of:
(sing to the tune of "It's the End of Rent Stabilization As We Know It (And I Feel Fucked))
Broker fees, no-fee apt lists, Craigslist, nightmare stories of finding a place to live and staying on friends' couches, all-encompassing bad roommate situations (deserves its own list), six story walk-ups, the luxury of an elevator and maybe a doorman, converted 1-2-3 bdrms for 2-3-4 or more people, looking at a fuse box that pre-dates the Statute of Electricity, experiments in dry wall and shelving, broken toilets, showering at the gym during week long hot water boiler repairs, clumps of ceiling that fall due to bathroom leaks from apt above, floors with the topography of a golf course, lazy or nowhere-to-be-found supers, taking landlords to court...even for attempted murder, convincing yourself that you can actually throw a party in your tiny studio, heating and cooling your giant loft deal of the century, bedroom views of brick walls, no kitchen, half a kitchen, bathrooms in kitchens, six apartments in six years, worries of that new trendy grocery or bars will raise the rents, subway line considerations, making comments like:
"should I finally move to Brooklyn?", "Astoria can't be that bad, right?", "I would never live above 14th Street", "I'm all for/against gentrification", "SAY NO TO GREEDY DEVELOPERS WITH NO COMMUNITY TIES!", "whoa, are you sure it was a rat?", "I really really wish I never signed that lease", "now this is an awesome roof, I bet you could sleep out here during the summer", "yeah but think of the all money you're gonna spend taking taxis on weekend nights", "that's too too far out on the L", "the commute is really not bad, it's on the F line", "I would love to live in this place...if I had a million dollars", "what the hell goes on up there? do they rearrange their fuckin' furniture every goddamn night?", "how do I measure square footage with this stupid thing sticking out all crazy-like?", "whoever designed this was a real asshole"
hearing neighbors have sex, never knowing your neighbors but still trying to figure out the coitus-in-stereous couple through your door's peephole the next day, passive-aggressive notes left above mailboxes or on front door like "PLEASE be a good neighbor and make sure you shut the door securely or we will all be victims of ass-rape" and "To whoever keeps taking my New York Times, you're invited over for brunch every Sunday, Apt 6W. Bring some reading material!", and neighbors who complain about your party at 2am on a Saturday night and finding yourself screaming at this douchebag in the hallway, "I don't give a FUCK what kind of doctor you are!!"
Of course these lists could go on forever but I ask, does it ever really get old? Hold that thought, you're wrong. The answer is absolutely yes, it really does get older than the 400 year old ladies you see in Chinatown. I would address commercial real estate but I have even less of an opinion on that. New buildings go up, groups of people always try to fight it, they lose. Protests surrounded the construction of the Chrysler Building as well as the original World Trade Center to no avail, this will go on and on forever with every new project.
Real estate is the cocktail conversation topic that barely manages a pulse and every attempt to escape its death sentence should be made. It's worse than bringing up religion or politics. At least with those...shit, I'm coming up empty on an intelligent "at least with those" remark with worldly insight. I dunno, I'm sure it has something to do with people, money, and assholes. That said, there's a huge and limitless audience for this stuff. Never underestimate the depravity of human interaction.
So I offer sincere congrats to Lock on a fantastic year that brought many tk, tk, tk that are accomplishments any blogger would be proud to own and I hope you have many more. You run a class operation and the only thing holding you back now is the Gawker Media plank walk of death you're on. It's gonna drown your superior name in a sea of editorial mediocrity. Ditch that sinking pontoon and set Curbed's course for Sag Harbor. Home, James!
Comments:
I'm searching for my fifth apartment in about as many years right now, and I have to thank you for making me smile.
Looking back over the years (2 in Manhattan, 3 in Brooklyn), I quickly added:
...pretending you're not having sex behind the curtain in your railroad apartment as two strangers walk by, ear-piercing catfights on the fire escape, knocking over -- and shattering -- your new craigslist roommate's four-foot bong, getting excited about the installation of *new* bars on your windows, wincing as the strange polish man in the basement wields a crowbar to "help you out" with the busted washing machine, stamping your feet to frighten away the rats as you near your home...
it's time i had some time alone
it's time i had some time alone
it's time i had some time alone
pigeonsmaking loud love on your airconditioner....
Julie
Wrong. Real etate right now is utterly fascinating, because it is shaping up to be the new Nasdaq 5000, which, if you remember, quickly turned into the Nasdaq 1400 (and is still now at around 2000).
The dotcom bust hit guys like us, and the rest of Amerika (the same Amerika that then went on to vote for Dubya) sneered and laughed at our misfortune.
Unlike the Nasdaq bust, the real estate collapse will crush the kind of cherub-faced flag-waving heartland types who took such pleasure in the fall of Silicon Valley.
I, for one, want to have front-row seats at the bloodbath. I will drink of their patriotic tears, and their wailing as their American Dream dies will be the gentle lullaby that puts me to sleep every night.
Let them choke on their greed.
I apologize for my previous comment. It was written in a moment of anger.
It should read "Real estate", not "Real etate".
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