August 5th 2014

“I’m moving out.”

I told them.

“Me too.” She said.

“And me too.” Said the last.

Charlie         Harper

Kate                 and I 

Our faces: Charlie, Olive, Kate, Harper.

Sat across           from each other

In our 4 bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. In Manhattan. Verbally agreeing that it was time to move on. To move somewhere else in the city. And start something new.

Just as a general recap.

Fast Forward >>

Just a few months later. And one box led to 2 boxes. Which led to four boxes then to more.

I like what you’ve done with the place…

Our farewell dinner was dined amongst the chaos. Pushing >>> over piles of our belongings and sitting indian style on the floor.

The last supper.

Talking about the good times. The great times. The hard times. And the best.

How in the last 3 years of living in our humble abode, this batshit apartment was the start and end to many adventures      in      between.

Such as:

Befriending a pack of Irishmen on a boat

Discovering a note from my missing friend on our door step

Waking up to a fresh pack of fries…in bed

Waking up next to a complete and utter stranger…in bed

Hiring a magician to perform in our living room recruited from Ninja Castle

Providing ample damage control when a loyal blog follower broke into our apartment

Falling in love with the local pizza employess

Surviving break ups

Having arguments on our rooftop about the single life

And talking about dreams there too

And after that,

We packed up the that things we loved.

All necessities.

And pitched the things we didn’t.

Life savings in exchange for a security deposit and first month’s rent. Bye.

And before we knew it. All the walls were back to white. The floors were swept. The closets were clean. And our belonging were neatly packaged in boxes with sharpied directions of where they go next. And then the 4 of us

sat          in my

empty        bedroom

One last time.

 And really.

That was that.

Until the movers showed up.

And our grand chariots arrived in the form of moving trucks.

Ladddiiesssss

And we promptly shuffled our belongings to << and>> fro. Barely managing to say goodbye. And in a disarray until 10:30 pm. Delusioned and saying things we didn’t mean like:

Oops.

Until alas, we were finally good to go.

Let’s blow this popsicle stand.

And that’s when she said it.

“Go ahead without me.” My continued roommate and exceptional friend Charlie told me. “I’m going to stay behind and clean the apartment, take the movers to to our new place, and I’ll be sure to meet you there.”

To which I relayed a passionate:

Prior to take-off, I inquired with the movers if there…was an extra seat in their truck…and if I could maybe…ride along?

“…Are you asking to ride in the back of the truck in the pitch dark all the way downtown?”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Cool. If that’s what you want. Hop in the back! We’re just going to get some halal first…if that’s okay.”

Totally okay.

Which prompted my touch base responses to Charlie below.

Indeed. Upon Noni and Mohammad’s return to the truck, they were instructed to sit in the back amongst all of our rogue belongings, whilst I took their seat in the front. Hungry, grateful and guilt-ridden (pun intended) that they were forced to eat dinner against my mattress and duffle of socks, I began conversing with the duo whilst we were safely in park mode. We talked about life. They offered me a twinkie and a handful Lays. I said yes. And immediately

                                                                        leaped >>

To the middle of the truck with the most grace of all.

Did someone say chips?

Happy to converse and genuinely motivated by snacks

I suddenly felt something move.

 Vroom Vroom.

Fuck.

The truck was revved up and ready to go.

For a visual.

And there I was.

Lays in one hand. And a lamp in another.

I love lamp.

Trapped in the throws of my bare mattress and wooden planks

Wait why did we pack wooden planks?

And Mohammad and Noni just a box spring of treachery away

Thanks for the Lays.

And after a 45 minute drive in obscure darkness double-fisting lamps in exchange for my life:

A quick visual of Mohammed, Noni and I

We arrived at approximately 11:13 pm, whenst I was finally released from the back of the truck.

IM FREEEEEE

Only to be greeted by

1

2

3

4

5

6…flights of stairs.

Home sweet arthritis.

To our new humble abode.

The

c

            l

                      i

                                 m

                                               b

Was grueling.

Our tip to the movers including a down payment for future back surgeries. But. After copious amounts of hugs and a new place to call home, I opened up my new bedroom window and

>> crawled through>>

C

l

i

m

b

e

d

Up the fire escape

Safe.

And onto a forbidden roof top that led to this:

What an ideal discovery.

And as I sat there on an off-limits roof top that was officially all mine. I remember feeling satisfied. With the encapsulated adventures—written and remembered at my last apartment. And every place before that too. 

A place where I moved in unemployed working an unpaid internship at Calvin Klein. With no promise of success and my dreams on the back burner.

And now. Here I was. Sitting on the same furniture. In the same clothes. In a new place. Fully employed. Still writing in a journal every day. And now blogging my ventures too. Hosting story-telling events in the city. And conversing with vintage friends. As well as the new.

And then I

c

l

i

m

b

e

d

Back down my fire escape that night.

And decided that I wanted to keep my writing addiction and dreams alive. So. I took out a sheet of paper. And wrote down the only thing I could really think to say to you, to myself and especially this damn city. And it said:

Long live adventures, new beginnings, and good people to go with them.

And by good people.

I mean you.