I have really let this bad boy go...

Sorry for the lack of posts, but I've been super hectic moving all my crappity to Jarett's house and selling my furniture. I wish I could say I haven't written because nothing has happened, but that would definitely not be true.

This passed weekend was spent taking trips back and forth between the two apartments. I know some close encounters, one Shilpi would love involved Jarett being interrogated in the elevator by Gita, my lovely Indian/Trinidadian neighbor.

Monday, I went home to sell my tables. I was home for literally an hour. In that time, I was cornered by a customer at the Crack Den across the hall....with the man who just purchased my tables waiting diligently by the elevator. The young crackhead kept saying, "what I got to do to get you to stay in touch with me when you move? We gonna be friends?" He's saying all this while trying to back me into a corner. I menacingly pushed my nightstand toward him as though I was about to run him over, which got him out of the way. Then, hunchback told me to come to his apartment because his wife "has something for me" so I can "make a lot of money" - I think he's referring to suing over Caliope's wrongful death. I can't even fathom wanting to do that. I just want to be moved and get the hell out of Dodge.

Yesterday, I went home for a while to do laundry and pack some more. I kept reassuring Kielbasa that tomorrow (today) he would be moving to Jarett's, I think he was excited.
The same crackhead was back, he asked me when I was moving. I said nothing. I'm really worried for my TV. Gita gave me crap in the lobby about moving, again. She said just because "some" of the people are bad here, doesn't mean they all are. I shot her a death look and left the elevator. I also saw that surprise surprise, but the adolescent girl who threatened me and "ain't scared of white people" - is the daughter of the Angry Pantsless Wonder. The whole family was in the elevator, and when they got off it literally shifted up from all the weight. It takes every once of strength I possess NOT to spit in their ugly faces when I see them.

Everyone keep their fingers crossed my dresser fits in Jarett's car, I'm tired of living out of a suitcase and I want my stuff out of that hellhole.

Kielbasa's Bachelor Pad

Tuesday night it became official when I sold my bed. I'm living with Jarett. Right now, though, my stuff is still living with Kielbasa. Who has the apt to himself. I'm hoping he gets all the barking out of his system there so when we officially smuggle him into Jarett's no one notices for awhile. I go home to sell more stuff, feed and love the dog, and then go back to Jarett's.
Yet still, in that time, a woman yelled at me for coming out of the elevator.

And I got a nose bleed...I think there might be some of kind of poison oozing from the walls, Amityville Horror style. We're just getting away with our lives.

15 days until the end of the Crackhouse.

It's getting worse.

I can hardly believe it myself, but it's actually getting WORSE in my building now that it's Winter. There is DEFINITELY a drug operation being run from across the hallway. What this means is that throughout the night various characters of an unsavory nature parade outside the drug den's door. What's really disturbing is that a really large portion of them seem to be really, really young.
While most of the people visiting the REAL crackhouse across the hall don't bother me, a few who apparently recognized me actually gave their condolences when they asked about Caliope. What's scary about the building activity level in the Crackhouse is that last night while going to walk Kielbasa a young man got in the elevator with a gun clearly in his pocket. I have never been so scared, because he was clearly high and clearly an angry high, but I could see the gun in his hoody. Jarett yelled at me for not getting out of the elevator, but I was in the corner and didn't see it until we were both trapped inside. I just tried to not breathe and bolted when the doors opened.

Teenagers were smoking a joint in the elevator. One actually yelled at the main smoker that he should be polite and not smoke in the elevator with the nice white girl. I appreciated his effort.

17 days til moving day!!

The elevator shocked me again this morning.

R.I.P. - Caliope Guthrie 2/02 - 11/07

For those of you who don't already know, Caliope lost her brave battle against whatever it was that has been eating her up for the better part of three months.
I don't want to relive the whole thing all over again, but on Friday night I came home from work. She wandered out of the bedroom, and said hello. I picked her up, wrapped her in a blanket and put her on the couch. I called Jarett because I was supposed to be going to his house, and I told him how weak she looked. We talked about maybe putting her to sleep this weekend, because she had to be suffering. I hung up the phone, not wanting to think about it, and went into the bedroom. I came out ten minutes later, and she had passed away on the couch.
Jarett came over, did an examination like a good doctor. She was dead. We wrapped her in her blue blanket, put her in a box, and took her to the AMC. They took her little body, and it was over.

Kielbasa wasn't upset at first, but has gotten more so over the weekend. He was on edge at Jarett's, and seemed a little depressed last night/this morning. Hopefully he'll start to perk up soon with lots of love from Jarett and I.
Thank you so much for all your love and support through all of this, Caliope and I both appreciate it.

Management's Response.

I spoke to my management lady, and believe it or not she was completely receptive. She talked on and on about the sociological impact of me living there, and how fascinating it is. I told her mostly everything, and she laughed, she cried. Then, I asked about my deposit, and she ripped up my rent check for November - so I already have my deposit back. I'm relieved it was so simple, but at the same time I'm totally going to feel dirty when the broker shows the next sap my apartment.

The end is near.

50 Lincoln Rd
Brooklyn, NY 11225

November 1, 2007

Dear Lynn:

This letter is to let you know that I will be moving out of 50 Lincoln Road, as of December 1, 2007. I have tried hard to adjust to life at 50 Lincoln, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for it. I do not feel safe there for the following reasons.

1. People constantly making lewd or threatening remarks in the hallway, lobby and elevator.
2. Parties/gatherings being held in the hallway, which results in a constant amount of litter in the hallway and staircases.
3. Things breaking in the building- i.e. – the front door locked me IN; the elevator was emitting electric shocks when it rained.
4. The police having to be constantly called for noise and drug-related calls. While it’s reassuring to see them in the hallway, since my neighbors think it’s me calling (both Gita and Kelly on my floor have said something to me about MY calling the police on them) they are openly hostile.
5. A letter received last month about thieves and rapists in the building.

I have dates for all these occurrences, and there is more, but the truth is that the building is not a good fit for me. An adolescent girl made it all too clear when she told me she was going to kick my dog, and myself in the elevator because “she ain’t scared of White People.” I hope that my moving out prematurely will not affect my security deposit, since I am moving out because I feel threatened. Please let me know if you need any additional information.

Sincerely,
Stephanie Guthrie

It's amazing how much can happen in an hour.

I've been spending a lot of time with Jarett recently - for those of you who don't already know - yes, we are back together. Probably, we are moving in together, mostly because we want to, but also because my apartment is an abomination.

That being said, I haven't spent much time at home. Yesterday, I just went home long enough to do my laundry. In that time the following things happened:

1. A woman asked where Caliope was. I said, "she's dying and is too weak to go outside." The woman replied, "that's a...(weird pause) shame." What did the poor little dog ever do to her?

2. A man in a neon green Hawaiian shirt, with an Afro (and pic stuck in said Afro) comes out of the crackhouse across the hall from me and says - "beautiful." I assume he's talking about Kielbasa, so I say nothing. He continues. "Please tell me you're not married." I said, "sorry."

3. While in laundromat, alone with attendant, a young man threw himself on the door outside and started banging on it. When I looked, he started screaming at me about how I'm pretty, or something. I say nothing. He says, "WHAT, I don't even get a HELLO!" So much for the Winter will be better because you wear a coat theory!

4. Two teenagers rode in the elevator with me while they blew out their blunt wrapper and talked about all the pot they were going to smoke. Then, went into the aforementioned crack den across the hall.

5. Saw lady smoking outside Super's door.

Do I need to really justify why I want to move?

Just your average day in the Crackhouse.

As I'm walking in the front door of my building last night, the 15 year-old girl who threatened me was standing outside. She amused herself while I played with the lock, by screaming random words in my face. Including "Thank you" and "uh huh" - a pleasant girl that one. Now, do I go knock on Kelly's door...or is this even one of her offspring? Who can say?

Pete came over around 9pm to discuss his stint on Millionaire. He's so famous I can't even take it. When he got off the elevator, Banshee and her little brother were there. And apparently the little boy spoke to Pete in a really friendly, albeit loud way. Until Banshee ran over and pulled him away. I'm almost 100% convinced not one of the children goes to school on my floor. They are in the hallway until midnight easily, and none are up when I'm up in the morning. Do they have a truancy officer in my neighborhood? Doubt it.

Decided I'm moving into Jarett's whether Management Company loves Kielbasa or not. Can't take this anymore. Already packing in head.

Nervous.

This weekend did not disappoint.

Friday -

Made a new friend, I'm standing by the elevator with my hands full of crap to take to Jarett's house. Banshee and assorted young siblings are running in circles in the hallway. Surprise! Surprise! There's actually an adult in the hallways with them this time. She gives me a medium snotty look, then starts to talk to me. She said the management company called her and apparently talked to her about everyone complaining about her. She said she has a plan to fix the situation by knocking on everyone's door to "talk to them" about the noise. "If anyone's got a problem round here...they talk to ME." I said, that's fine. Who are you and where do you live? She pauses, and considers this. Finally, she tells me her name is Kelly and she lives in the apartment to the left of the elevator. I think Banshee is her daughter, because the whole time Banshee keeps telling me how pretty I am and asking where the dogs are...tricksy little thing. Kelly then mentions how often the police are being called, giving me an accusatory glance. I said, well I haven't called them except for the time you had the party in the hallway. This is the best part, she tells me "that was a funeral for my brother." I said, "there were balloons." She says, "I don't know what you're talking about." I assured her I'd come to her the next time one of the beasts causes a problem, but really how is that going to solve ANYTHING. I don't even know which child is connected to which apartment, let alone who's cooking their BBQ chicken?

Saturday -

I'm in the nail salon across the street getting a manicure. There's this large Black lady getting a pedicure, who is literally screaming and cursing and mocking the Asian woman doing her toes. I can't really repeat what she was saying without feeling a little bit ill, so I won't. But she was literally banging the arms of the chair like she was having a seizure, and threatening to kill this young woman because "she don't know shit about shape." Apparently, referring to the shape of her TOENAILS. This, is why even if my hallways transforms into Eden - I can't live here.

Sunday -

The Trinidadian woman across from the elevator's name is Gita. She was asking about Caliope, who is officially too sick to go outside. She was kind of guilting me about not putting the dog to sleep, and while she's probably right I didn't want to discuss this with Gita. She then tells me her niece is over with a 1 year-old. But she assured me she wouldn't let the kids out because "SOMEONE" (knowing look to me) will call the police.

Monday -

This morning, there were children's party cups littering the entire hallway and at least a dozen of them on the stairs. Guess keeping the kids inside didn't work, unless they just decided to throw their paper cups out the front door whenever they finished with them.

Today, Jarett's asking his management company if Kielbasa and I are allowed to move in. Keep your fingers crossed, there might be a crack free Christmas after all!

Nice little Thursday planned

I didn't get home until a little late last night - talking to Kevin Sheldon, who's a total pimp now! I get in and Caliope is soooo skinny, and looking pretty unhappy. I feel almost guilty bringing her outside now because she doesn't like it and she doesn't do anything except shiver, even though she has her little red coat on. On the way outside, Kielbasa barked at an extremely butch looking lesbian. (Note - Jarett asked me how I knew this girl was a lesbian, trying to find out if I'd made out with her on the way out. I did not, so I guess I don't actually KNOW she's a lesbian. She just LOOKED like a lesbian. I'm sorry if this is politically incorrect of me.) I wondered if maybe I could just be her friend, so she can protect me in the hallways.
As I was walking the dogs, kids across the street were playing "Is that a puppy, or a sick dog?" watching Caliope walk down the street. I think sick dog won.

Then, some angry woman tried to run her over with her crazy cart.

I can't wait to move.

Happy Halloweener Dog

Found bloody rag in the hallway.

Good intentions

Last night, I got home vaguely late. I take the pups outside. And I'm waiting for the elevator, when lo and behold Banshee starts TALKING to me. No yells. Just a cute little girl, asking me about the dogs. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone.

She asked what their names are, and what kind of dogs they are. She even came really close to petting Kielbasa - who to his credit didn't bark at all, and was being very sweet to her. She said she's going to get a little white dog for Christmas.

Then, her monster older sibling, or at least one of the unruly teenagers who live in the building slams open the elevator door, making Kielbasa bark, which makes him look at me, and at the dog and start screaming in both our horrified faces, "What the FUCK? What the FUCK?"

For every step forward, we take one mile back.

Threatened by adolescent

This was a doozy of a weekend. Saturday morning, the elevator was shocking everyone who had the nerve to hit floor buttons. I believe it's because it was raining, but I can't be sure.

Then, a girl in the elevator was totally fucking with me, and trying to hold a conversation with me in Haitian. I also figured out my neighbor who I like is Trinidadian - not Dominican. Whoops. She came downstairs Saturday morning, and she was screaming because someone had put their garbage in the elevator. I can see her frustration. Apparently, she used to clean the building not too long ago, but stopped because it was like trying to sweep sand off a beach.

The ultimate battle royale of the weekend though, was being accosted by a 15-year-old GIRL! Banshee and her older sister - we'll call her Ugly-Fat-Monster-Who-Will-Die-Alone or (UFMWWDA). They are arguing on the 4th floor about whether or not to get in the elevator, and I'm standing there staring with the dogs. Finally, I say "can you guys just decide" and this starts UFMWWDA off on a rant, about how they are going in and going up. I said, "Well, I'm going down." She then throws banshee into the elevator and starts blabbering about how if my dogs or I come near her, she's going to kick us. I'm gripping Kielbasa's leash so hard to prevent myself from slapping her ugly, little mouth that my hands turning white. I say, "if you kick my dog, I'm going to call the police." She says, eloquently, "I ain't scared of the poh-lease. And I ain't scared of white people." The latter, became like a chant. So there I am, her screaming about us Whities, and Banshee screaming and Kielbasa barking at the mayhem.
I had to call my aunt and ask if I should genuinely call the police, which was an awesomely awkward call. We decided UFMWWDA has enough awfulness heading her way in life, and to add to it would be unnecessary.

Soooooo close.

Last night, I came home with all my groceries. And this young kid, who apparently lives on my floor though I've never seen him, actually helped me carry my bags into the elevator. I was in shock. So much so, that I didn't tell him I'm super strong and don't need help carrying groceries. I was in awe so much that I almost ran upstairs and wrote about how wrong I've been all along, because the nice boy was willing to carry my groceries for me.

And then....

10:30pm: I go outside to walk the dogs, and there are 15 people sitting in the hallway circling the elevator like a campfire eating BBQ Chicken. What in the holy hell is wrong with these people? Why would you ever WANT to EAT YOUR DINNER IN THE HALLWAY!?!?!?!?!?!?! And also, which came first the stereotype or these monsters living the stereotype? If you are one of my good friends, you got a picture this morning of the plates of filth LEFT IN THE HALLWAY outside my door.
I was talking to someone about this Wednesday, that this is how racism is propagated. Not to get too preachy, but my neighbors hated me the minute I moved in. Because I looked like someone that was probably an ahole to them at some other point. So, they treat me like garbage. This makes me wish they would all die an agonizing death. Someday I will move away, and I will have to UNlearn this hatred for people who look like them. But, what about the people like me who move (and there are others, I see their terrified faces in the lobby) and don't stop hating the people who look and behave like our neighbors?

This morning the front door was locked from the outside. So a handful of my neighbors and I were actually trapped on the inside. We had to bang on the door until some guy let us out. I wish I could describe that particular kind of panic.