I'm reading a self-help book called The War of Art that applies the principles of Sun Tzu's Art of War to creating art, or say updating The Paper Clip every day. I have never read The Art of War, but when my last relationship began to, what I now call, end, my then boyfriend started comparing our interactions to its principles. He offered tips to be a better fighter, tips to fight him better. I suppose, I should have taken it for the bad sign it was, but what is love's decline without subtle emotional abuse?
Anyway, I just read a part on How to Be Miserable. The best lesson learned in the Marine Corps, says the author, was the importance of being miserable. Thriving on cold food and crappy equipment while enduring high death tolls. And, I couldn't help but think being in the Marines must be a lot like living in Greenpoint on $28,000 a year.
There is an acquired smugness you wear once you accept your utter lack rights. That your Hasidic Jewish landlords do not care that there is no heat or hot water on Friday night (and it's always Friday night). What do you want them to do? Post phone numbers in the lobby in case of an emergency? (Note, actually said to me.)
I cannot fathom why people in other cities, like say San Francisco?, expect something other than a roof in exchange for rent. Once I overhead this girl ask how a landlord call a kitchen full when it was obviously missing a dishwasher? I don't know but my last apartment was called a four bedroom and it lacked interior walls. We took charge. We built the walls. We paid a man to build them.
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