"From that point onward I never worked a regular office job again, solely writing for a living, something that would have been impossible if New York hadn’t been a city of low rents and crappy expectations that didn’t require a trust fund or a six figure income for the privilege of watching everything fall apart before your eyes…At that age apartments were just places to stay, temporary launchpads or secluded cubbyholes, not outward constructs of your identity that required Hamlet-style agonizing for fear that at the root of your being, you might not be an “uptown person."
—
Lucking Out, James Wolcott (via ferrrn)
A great book published in 2011. Read Matt Haber’s review at Capital.