Tuesday, September 1, 2009

I was raised in the Pro-Jects Roaches and Rats

Good morning all. Its 5AM, Monday morning and I am coming to you from Harlem , USA. I had my topic all picked out for this week but that had to change considering my circumstances. Those of you who know me personally, know that I just made a move to New York City. For the next four months I will be working an unpaid internship in the music industry, however this is not what I am writing to you about today.

I feel the need to discuss my room and its positives and negatives... primarily negatives. So lets go back about 12 hours to Sunday.

My cab pulls up to my place of residence, an older brownstone on 126th street, me; full of energy ready to get into my place and check out my surroundings (I grew up in Jersey and spent a lot of time in NYC so it is more just reacquainting). I call my land lords and they're not there so they have their neighbor let me in. I live on the second floor so after carrying my bags up a stairwell that is precarious at best I finally got to my room. My door was opened and I looked at my domicile for the next few months.

Now immediately that day I came up with a name for my room. If you can glean anything about my room from the name... go ahead and assume it before I tell you. I decided to call this “suite” Guantanamo. … … … … … … …

Done assuming?


The first thing I thought was, “My boys aren't gonna let me hear the end of this...” I am currently living in an 8 by 12 room which means I can stretch my arms out and touch both walls simultaneously. I'm sleeping on an air mattress. You know the term starving artist? Well I'm famished. There is barely enough room for me and my suitcases. I share a bathroom with one other person and do not have any kitchen. (If you live in NYC and will let me use yours I will cook you dinner) But you know what. I was thinking, I'm young, I'm broke and I need a place and I've been a camp counselor in worse conditions than this... whatever. Point is I was fine with my living circumstances.

So my land lords get here and finish preparing my room. Cool. I got ready and went out to grab some dinner (again, I will cook you dinner if you let me use your kitchen), all the mean while calling people to let them know I had made it safely. So I had dinner and drinks, hopped the subway and came back up to Harlem. I came back upstairs to find a padded floor... sweet. Deciding it was time for bed, I went through the evening rituals of brushing my teeth etc. I laid down and let my mind rest, thinking “This isn't bad. It's my own room... the price is absolutely unbeatable and when I get on, my apartment is going to be DOPE... this is just another story for my book.” Then I looked over to my left wall and found a tiny “mite” is what we will call them. Again I thought “I've been dealing with spiders the size of small rodents in Florida, this isn't bad” I killed it and proceeded to drift off to sleep.

Probably about 4AM I awake to a light sensation on my ear. After brushing at that vigorously, I got up to use the bathroom, came back and turned the light on and realized that they had been on a number of things including me. Immediately, I changed my sheets, checked the rest of my body and my suitcases. Finding about five more, a shakedown was a must. I shook down my bags, bed, sheets, the clothes I left on top of my bag and anything else that they may have found their way onto. Sidenote: I don't have internet here either. So since then I have been awake with the light on, talking to you all, listening to Paul Simon, making a shopping list. Feel free to add to it.

Thus far I have:

Black Flag

A trash can

A cooking apparatus of some sort


A pillow

CLOSABLE storage

Now I'm sure you're like why the hell is he still there. My place isn't all bad. The rent is unbeatable for living any where in the tri-state and when I say unbeatable I mean, you'll never find it. I also have a view of 125th from my room and I am a block and a half away from the Apollo. So I am right in the thick of Harlem, a place with so much culture and history that just walking around it makes you proud to be black. This also makes my commute to my internship about a half hour probably 40 minutes during rush hour, which is definitely good too. But this is my life until I get a real job. Then, please believe I will be out! Moving to NJ which is a hell of a lot better than NY. But until then, I call Guantanamo, NYC, NY, home. Any way, I'm gonna continue listening to Queen (I love 80's rock) and figure out other things to do to occupy my time until I can go to the store.

And if you live in the city, I am at Cosi on 37th and 7th often, come hang out.

Much Love to you and yours,

@Dead Mike

PS. If you have a kitchen, I'll cook you good dinner.

Oh btw I'm going to Festivus too this year.


Ashley_Rob said...

i screamed out loud when i read this. NOT MITES EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!! ima say a prayer for u tonight homie

K. Jobe said...

damn homie, life is tough right now. Test of a man comes to mind.

CtotheB said...

Aye bruh that sounds like hard times but it's all fodder for the memoir!