REARVIEW 2007
Here, in no particular order, is a view from the last 365 + or so as seen in reverse reflection from a speeding car.
Ahem.
818 Revisited
The numbers of my address, having worn on me for a year now, seem symbolic. Mystically the numbers have to do with success and resurrection.
The building is about 80 years old. The water pressure is practically non-existent. The bathroom sink and the shower have stopped up a number of times. If the link trap in the sink where the washing machine drains isn't cleanned regularly the sink will overflow. It's happened four times now.
Of the four units in the building, we occupy the lower left. Just outside the windows that run along the North side of the unit is a long driveway leading to the garage in the back - a concrete canyon that broadcasts, like a speaker tube, any and every sound coming from within our apartment. Our neighbors upstairs and in the building next door are privy to our conversations, music, and the television we choose to watch. There have been a few complaints after nights when we've drunk wine and talk loudly into the early hours. I've never felt more exposed as an apartment tenant.
The on-site manager is an elderly German woman named Helga. She's lived in the same unit ever since her and her late husband moved in the place in 1976. Her blunt accent and manner can be charming when it doesn't feel aggressive. She seems to lay out a new rule for the place weekly and she's nosy. I want to like her. I've tried, but whatever social headway is made by small talk and small neighborly favors is somehow negated when a new rule is laid down or an established rule is broken.
The guy upstairs is an interior designer. He and Helga are very close. We have heard of his complaints about noise through her several times. Our upstairs neighbors name is Sal and Sal is very West Hollywood. Great body, good job, snooty and gossipy. The noise from us below and from him above have helped to set a coolness between us. The jury is still out on Sal. He actually seems like a nice guy and I hear his place is to die for. Maybe I'll see it one day.
Two very sweet gay guys were in the fourth unit above Helga when we moved in. There were also the most infrequently seen of the neighbors. Jessie and Karl came to our housewarming and have always been very friendly when encountered in the hallway or drive way or even in the produce aisle at the local grocer. We even got a Christmas card from Karl, who, unfortunately moved out a few weeks ago. I think everyone in the building was sad to see the nicest guy in the place abandon us.
It bothers me that in a building with four units there can't be more friendliness. But it is LA.
For all the complaints listed above, we do have a great deal in terms of price, location and amenities. It's not perfect and half the time I find myself longing for a place of my own in a building where I can exercise some anonymity, but as a first place in a new city I could have done a whole lot worse. I looked at worse before getting the lead on this place and worse was very much worst by comparison.
The owner of our building died in August. The building is now in the hands of her lawyer. We have yet to hear what they may be planning; a sale, a renovation to condominiums, a hike in the rent. It's lawyers, so who knows. For now I will beat my time out in 818 and try not to do so too loudly.
Ahem.
818 Revisited
The numbers of my address, having worn on me for a year now, seem symbolic. Mystically the numbers have to do with success and resurrection.
The building is about 80 years old. The water pressure is practically non-existent. The bathroom sink and the shower have stopped up a number of times. If the link trap in the sink where the washing machine drains isn't cleanned regularly the sink will overflow. It's happened four times now.
Of the four units in the building, we occupy the lower left. Just outside the windows that run along the North side of the unit is a long driveway leading to the garage in the back - a concrete canyon that broadcasts, like a speaker tube, any and every sound coming from within our apartment. Our neighbors upstairs and in the building next door are privy to our conversations, music, and the television we choose to watch. There have been a few complaints after nights when we've drunk wine and talk loudly into the early hours. I've never felt more exposed as an apartment tenant.
The on-site manager is an elderly German woman named Helga. She's lived in the same unit ever since her and her late husband moved in the place in 1976. Her blunt accent and manner can be charming when it doesn't feel aggressive. She seems to lay out a new rule for the place weekly and she's nosy. I want to like her. I've tried, but whatever social headway is made by small talk and small neighborly favors is somehow negated when a new rule is laid down or an established rule is broken.
The guy upstairs is an interior designer. He and Helga are very close. We have heard of his complaints about noise through her several times. Our upstairs neighbors name is Sal and Sal is very West Hollywood. Great body, good job, snooty and gossipy. The noise from us below and from him above have helped to set a coolness between us. The jury is still out on Sal. He actually seems like a nice guy and I hear his place is to die for. Maybe I'll see it one day.
Two very sweet gay guys were in the fourth unit above Helga when we moved in. There were also the most infrequently seen of the neighbors. Jessie and Karl came to our housewarming and have always been very friendly when encountered in the hallway or drive way or even in the produce aisle at the local grocer. We even got a Christmas card from Karl, who, unfortunately moved out a few weeks ago. I think everyone in the building was sad to see the nicest guy in the place abandon us.
It bothers me that in a building with four units there can't be more friendliness. But it is LA.
For all the complaints listed above, we do have a great deal in terms of price, location and amenities. It's not perfect and half the time I find myself longing for a place of my own in a building where I can exercise some anonymity, but as a first place in a new city I could have done a whole lot worse. I looked at worse before getting the lead on this place and worse was very much worst by comparison.
The owner of our building died in August. The building is now in the hands of her lawyer. We have yet to hear what they may be planning; a sale, a renovation to condominiums, a hike in the rent. It's lawyers, so who knows. For now I will beat my time out in 818 and try not to do so too loudly.
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