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Rent has been lower lately on the Upper East Side someone tells me. I remembered this from hours of searching StreetEasy and Craigslist lusting over high-ceiling unicorns priced lower than I thought possible. I imagined if I took an apartment there at a low price there would be something deeply wrong with it. Those apartments would have to be haunted or possess some feature too sinister to include in the listing. Apparently not. I don’t want to move already from my new place, but I start fighting fantasies about crown moulding and park views. I’m sure there’s a reason for prices going down. Inflation, deflation, gentrification, becoming less cool. But I like to imagine it’s the ecosystem. Like a coral reef, but one that doesn’t die. There’s no explaining away nature.
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On my first night in my new apartment, I spend an hour trying to resuscitate a ceiling fan. It worked earlier in the day but now doesn’t. The landlord won’t send maintenance unless the floor falls through. This isn’t surprising of course. I do wonder what it would be like to have a responsive landlord. Or if not a responsive landlord, maybe an author for a landlord since Chris Kraus apparently writes leases and novels. At least in this case you’d have a new fun fact for your dating profiles. About the fan, I call my dad and he tells me to push a button on its side. I’m sure it doesn’t exist. If it does, I can’t reach it. The ceilings are tall and the only way I can get to the fan is by I standing treacherously on a very beautiful dresser included in the sublet. I save dying for another day. In the morning, I flip the light switch for a different fixture and the fan begins to spin. The temperature doesn’t change.
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