My building's been bought...

And the new owners all have names that end in "Esq.", "berg" or "Jr." That means one thing.



IT'S GOING CO-OP. Even their website has "We Specialize in Condo/Co-Op Management" splashed on every page.



It's only a matter of time, but this fucks me royally since my window is still broken. This would explain why the landlord (or should I say ex-officio?) hasn't returned my calls or even answered the phone. Would the window completely smash if I put the a/c back in? I got through a whole summer and nothing bad happened. Or, I could put it in the other window, although the cord is pretty short and might not reach. Hmmm...it just makes me think and scheme.



I could take the rest of my savings if they offer me the "red herring" and plunk down a few thousand to buy. It's not like I don't know what it is to live paycheck to paycheck. Hell, I might even have some incentive to go out and get a second job. Or, I could see how/when/where I qualify for a mortgage. Like K. said to me this morning, "There is no such thing as 'bad equity'."



I truly and horribly feel for the older tenants, many of them elderly, who lived on fixed incomes. They don't make what a down payment and a closing would cost, who's looking out for them? My building is so small, we don't even have a tenant's association. The majority in the building are blue-collar, middle-class, making under $40,000. We talk about money when we pass in the halls because we don't have much. This is going to be a mass exodus when people start to panic. I really, really liked my landlord, too. We shared stories about old Bensonhurst and our pets (he's got 2 dogs, I have 3 pigeon-marauders.) This just sucks. Just when I think everything's going along smoothly



WHAPPP!



Another brick to my forehead.



What a high and a low yesterday evening was, too. I get on the R train home, and who do I run into? O. Turturro, sister of Aida and John. She still lives near 10th Street in the Village. The famous family curls are gone due to a sleek haircut, but I was truly glad to see her. We met in the hellhole acting school I was in. She also shares my mom's birthday, so I can't forget that. Even she agreed what a Nazi-like place it was. She smiled that famous smile when I said I left 3 years ago. "Good for you!". Yeah, I'll drink to that, too, O.



Then I come home, take out the garbage, and Mary, a dear neighbor with a golden retriever and two blond munchkins tells me my calls about the window are going unanswered because the building's been sold. Well, just when the hell were they going to tell us? I drop a note under the super's door, and I get a letter slipped under about an hour later. The new management's in Long Island with a closing office in NYC. These people are just going to keep this as a rental? In a pig's ass. And who the fuck is our super now? Hugh's been there since 1987. He's great. I liked this place because it was small, they allowed pets, it was rent-stabilized, and the rooms are spacious without being cavernous. What the hell's gonna happen now?



I have nightmarish memories of my previous residence. They didn't even know my name, just took the check and cashed it month after month. Is this my fate once again?



Good grief!