all about the benjamins.

JuVo and I didn't get that apartment we wanted. Clearly, you all did not pray hard enough.

When we called the brokers (notice, we had to call them, the injustice never ceases) the reason they gave was that we don't make enough money. This is all well and good, but also untrue: we would have paid exactly the same amount for this apartment as we do for our current one. Probably this excuse was just that: an excuse.

Or, perhaps not. After all, I do spend half of my post-tax income on rent. Isn't there some (cosmic) rule stating that one should not spend more than a third of one's salary on rent? But is salary in this scenario post-tax or pre-tax income? If it's pre-tax income, I'm doing OK. If it's post-tax income, then I should be living with my parents, or in Bushwick/BedStuy/Brighton Beach. I do make more than the average New Yorker, though, and if you combine our salaries, Juvo and I make a whole lot more than the median American household. So how much money does it take to get a decent sized, moderately bright, two bedroom apartment, in a neighborhood where I can walk home alone at night? Am I asking too much? Yes? Well. That sucks.

What's worse, I am not even a struggling artist/musician/free-lance writer. If I were, I could be too poor for that apartment I want now but still dream about The Great Payday (bidding war over manuscript, major record deal, work displayed in Whitney Biennial, etc.) looming on my horizon. As it is, this is all I've got, and it's not likely to change much in the next decade.

To take Keith Gessen slightly out of context: "That should be enough. I hope that's enough."