Interviewing Flatmates

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My days in the Big Apple are now counted so α² is actively looking for a flatmate to fill in my (Vivienne Westwood) shoes. I assist him with the interviews, he says that I ask good questions. It is true that I am good at breaking the ice and making funny punch lines, but I tend to encourage him to live with crazy entertaining people who will give him headaches very quickly.

He got a reply from a middle-aged lady who moved from Las Vegas because her girlfriend got hired for a show with Cirque du Soleil so she put her stuff in the trunk of her car and came back to New York. I was so enthusiastic about her, I was like “She’s the one!” I really wanted to at least meet her for an interview, but α² didn’t take my advice. He doesn’t like drama.

Yesterday evening, the longest flatmate interview ever made in history took place. J³ is a 23 years old feminist gay guy. He works as the personal assistant of a famous feminist performance artist who was a big hit in the 70s. She’s called Martha Rosler and her success piece was “Semiotics of the Kitchen” (which a lot of people kinda heard of but can’t quite picture what it is). J³ has an intense life story for his young age. His family are Jesus freaks from New Orleans who speak in tongues and moved away after Katrina. He is currently living in a haunted house. I connected with him very much so I spontaneously offered him to have dinner with us. He stayed till almost midnight because I started baking crêpes at 11pm. I am going to proof read the radio play he is writing about the friendships between a lesbian couple and a bunch of guys who share a house. I am the one who should live with him. α² wasn’t so sure.

Today we had another couple of interviews – whiny Canadian architect and dull Mexican filmmaker. Huh & huh. It is so hard to pick the perfect house bitch after me, I mean, who else cooks mind-blowing crêpes whilst simultaneously shaking her booty like Shakira?

The day started in a dramatic way though. A fire broke out in the building across the back yard and we saw the family escaping through the windows with the kids and tons of black smoke. We watched the firemen do an excellent job. α² wanted to open the window and whistle at them, but we didn’t.

On Wednesday very early, I am taking the train to Boston.

Tomorrow morning, α wants to go watch a New York sunrise near the ocean.

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