Places I Have Lived

Our Vanilla-and-Guilt-Flavored Real Estate Fantasies

Fantasies and gratitude for reality aren’t mutually exclusive! Or maybe fantasies distract from gratitude. I don’t know! It’s not greedy! Or is it?

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Why We Live Where We Live

While I was gone, I met a lot of people who live in cities and countries all over the world: Brisbane, Malaysia, Edinburgh, Montreal, Uruguay, Austin, “somewhere in Michigan you’ve never heard of, I bet.” I also met a few nomads—both singles and people with spouses and children who have given up permanent addresses to travel the world and stay in places for just months at a time.

“Why?” is the most obvious question.

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Moving 15 Blocks To My Own Place Cost $2550+ I am THRILLED

+ Portable charger to keep my phone alive during viewings, $35.
+ Bottles of water grabbed between viewings, $3.
+ Emergency granola bar to keep from fainting one day in the August heat, $1.50.

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A Room in an Elderly Stranger’s House, and Other Places I’ve Lived

Besides me, David Sedaris is the only American I know of who spent a big part of his early 20s rooming with an elderly stranger. He describes this time, during which he took up residence in a Chapel Hill boarding house out of some vague, misplaced nostalgia for an erstwhile age, in his 2007 essay “This Old House.” But the four months I spent with C.C. were a little different.

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The Economics of My Hometown: Boothbay Harbor, Maine

Restaurant work is smelly business. Not, however, as smelly as the most iconic of coastal Maine occupations, “lobsturin.”

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Are You My Landlord?

I was living in New England and my landlord had an apartment above me. He would text me and say things like, “There’s a tin of muffins on the bannister.” Pretty halcyon, right? But it made sense for my small New England town where properties were rented on a handshake and a one-page month-to-month sublease. I’d never accept muffins from this landlord for fear of poison.

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When Life Bites You In The Class: Around the World, in Oakland, and on Campus

Is “middle class” a useful appellation when it means such drastically different things in different places? We’re not even talking Pittsburgh vs. Brooklyn here, but, like, Los Angeles vs. Laos:

Middle class is as much a matter of perception as statistics—the number of Americans describing themselves as middle class has remained essentially unchanged in recent years even as their incomes and spending power have eroded. When the same term is used to describe an American household bringing in up to $100,000 per year (according to a recent poll; $250,000 if you’re Mitt Romney) and Laotians living on $2 per day (according to the Asian Development Bank), it may not be a very useful term.

It’s relative, in other words, dependent on context. It means you’re less well-off than the well-off and not as poor as the poor.

Sometimes it means that you’re a white girl in 1990s Oakland whose radical parents could live elsewhere but don’t. In that situation, you identify in key ways with your non-white classmates, neighbors, and fellow members of the local swim team — especially when it comes to trying to finally depose the fancy-pants country club team that shows up with their matching swim suits and their hubcap-size muffins and wins everything. In that case, you want what your team wants: to wrench victory from the soft hands of the enemy, even if only this once. But you also occasionally, guiltily yearn for the pop culture version of white adolescence, where everything is safe and clean, cute and funny:

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Mind the Gap (Year): Taking Time To Tend to a Dying Parent

If you had asked me in the summer of 2011 where I thought I’d be in a year, I would have said living a queer artist’s life in San Francisco, “writing” my dissertation. Instead, I spent the summer of 2012 moving my parents out of their retirement property in South Florida — think Boca but not nearly as bougie — and bringing them back to New York, where my brother and I had grown up.

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Places I’ve Lived: A Dormitory for the Arts, Urban Hilltops, and a Former Department Store

Where have you lived, Marissa Barker?

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A House Owned by a Psy-trance Hippy, an Ex-crack House, and Other Places I’ve Lived

Where have you lived William J. Read?

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Don’t Take Bribes

Perhaps Berlusconi is going to have company emptying bedpans in the Alzheimer’s ward: former Israeli prime minister Ehud Olmert has been convicted of taking bribes while mayor of Jerusalem and sentenced to six years in prison. He has appealed and his lawyers are arguing he should be given community service instead.

In a case that analysts here said vindicated prosecutors whose campaigns against corruption had been criticized as overzealous and expensive, Mr. Olmert was found guilty six weeks after a sweeping, yearslong investigation into the planning process surrounding the hulking, hated apartment complex in southern Jerusalem known as Holyland. A judge in 2010 called it “one of the worst corruption affairs in Israeli history.”

When Olmert was mayor of Jerusalem, he gave a pompous lecture to my high school graduating class (we were spending the second semester of our senior year in Israel as a reward for 13 years of Jewish Day School) in which he said, “We don’t build walls; we tear them down.” Then he was elected Prime Minister and proceeded to build the Security Barrier, which is basically the Great Wall of China winding around the West Bank.

Now he’s going to prison — not for building walls but for taking bribes to help build “Holyland.” Justice is sweet. Remember kids, DON’T TAKE BRIBES.

picture by David King

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