Live/Work Art Studio
I'm looking for a new pad a t the moment. Yesterday I went off with visions of a groovy live/work art studio place. It didn't quite work out like I hoped.
The first thing I noticed outside the purple/green/yellow building was the vomit on the sidewalk and about 30 stuffed garbage bags in various stages of decay along the wall. The place was infested with young punk rockers and a capped soda bottle rested on the stairs 3/4 full of urine.
The shared bathroom sink managed to hang from the wall despite the fact that it had been smashed in two. An aging note was taped to edge, 'Out of Order'. The formerly white plastic shower stall was in shades of gray and without a curtain.
The Willy Lowman landlord pushed through the carcass of punkers out front ('carcass' the herd name for punks) to show me the 'studio' for rent inside. One of the guys called out, "Don't kick out Frank' as if I was the landlord's enforcer.
The purple 'studio' had two doorways - without doors - a skylight and those crap 70's office drop ceiling panels half smashed to bits. "So this is it. Except we've gotta put a hallway down this back wall", said the landlord. "I don't trust those guys not to piss in my milk", I say. To which the landlord replies, "You get a bar fridge in your room", he replied. Not that they wouldn't piss in the milk if they had a chance.
I passed.
The first thing I noticed outside the purple/green/yellow building was the vomit on the sidewalk and about 30 stuffed garbage bags in various stages of decay along the wall. The place was infested with young punk rockers and a capped soda bottle rested on the stairs 3/4 full of urine.
The shared bathroom sink managed to hang from the wall despite the fact that it had been smashed in two. An aging note was taped to edge, 'Out of Order'. The formerly white plastic shower stall was in shades of gray and without a curtain.
The Willy Lowman landlord pushed through the carcass of punkers out front ('carcass' the herd name for punks) to show me the 'studio' for rent inside. One of the guys called out, "Don't kick out Frank' as if I was the landlord's enforcer.
The purple 'studio' had two doorways - without doors - a skylight and those crap 70's office drop ceiling panels half smashed to bits. "So this is it. Except we've gotta put a hallway down this back wall", said the landlord. "I don't trust those guys not to piss in my milk", I say. To which the landlord replies, "You get a bar fridge in your room", he replied. Not that they wouldn't piss in the milk if they had a chance.
I passed.
posted by Bill Pocock at 4:43:00 a.m.
1 Comments:
The carcass of punks really limits the curb appeal, don't you think?
good luck in your quest....
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