i’ve spoken recently of several changes that have taken place in my life over the course of the last 3 weeks. to name a few: i turned 30 years old; someone i thought was a close friend cut me out of his life unexpectedly, and for no good reason; and most significant, i vacated my precious apartment, bungalow 425. with the exception of hitting the milestone of turning 30, these life-altering changes have shaken me to my core. losing smokestack as a friend and having to find a new apartment were things that i did not at all see coming (although i probably could have called them had i stepped out of my reverie and focused on reality a bit more); but they were both very necessary in terms of my progression and re-invention.

i won’t recount what happened with smokestack (it’s all here), but i will add that his dismissing me has had a greater effect on me than i anticipated. i miss him! i miss talking to him, laughing with him, and the companionship we shared. i think about him all the time. admittedly, many of the these thoughts are more sexual than friendly; but more than anything, and despite all his fuckery, i miss having him around; and i wonder if he thinks about, or even misses me at all. i know that time heals all wounds, and that this too shall pass, but no longer having such a close friend in my life– having to turn all the time, effort and attention i spent on him to myself– is proving to be difficult to handle. i feel incredibly lonely, but i’m grateful for the lesson learned and am overcoming the disappointment and angst more and more as each day passes.

as for bungalow 425, that was more of a mutually agreed upon separation. being unemployed, i could not afford the incredibly high price of rent; and while my landlord was quite understanding and lenient, it was only a matter of time before my partial rent payments would not have mattered at all in comparison to the total cost of living in such an affluent building and neighborhood. so i had to pack up and leave. for the first time in six and a half years, i needed to find a place to live– one that would fit within my strict and tiny budget. it was an incredibly daunting task. i’d become so accustomed to living in abundance, and the idea that my life and lifestyle was about to change dramatically was almost too much to bear. i had two weeks to find and secure a new place of residence and, being the booshie and mildly naive person that i am, i broke down on a few occasions perusing through the numerous west bubble-fuck nowhere-located craigslist ads of apartments i could afford, and viewing the “my bed won’t even fit in here” studio apartments in neighborhoods i had come to know and was comfortable with. by the end of week one, i was a “whoa is me” facebook and twitter status, pseudo-suicidal mess! but God is good, and he had a plan…

late one night, i came across an ad for a “spacious studio” apartment in the stuyvesant heights area of bed stuy. the apartment wasn’t too far from where bungalow 425 is located, my “new york mom” had just moved to the area, and a good friend of mine, big brother, also lived a just few blocks away. the description of the apartment, including the words “approx. 800 square feet” looked very promising, so i immediately called the broker (broker? ugh) and scheduled a time to see the place.

it’s funny how the universe works. as i started to settle into the fact that i’d be moving into a studio apartment, i drew a picture of the kind of space i wanted– dimensions, furniture settings, appliances and all– and posted it on my vision board. imagine my surprise when i walked into the stuyvesant heights apartment and viewed an almost identical space to the studio i had drawn just a couple of nights before:

i almost lost my damn mind when i saw this place. it looked to be the perfect little space for me to begin the next era of my life. located on the ground floor of a three-story brownstone (just 2 steps down from street-level), it seemingly had all the space i’d need, a larger kitchen than bungalow 425, new, stainless steel appliances, and access to the backyard. the landlord was a middle-aged and dred-locked black woman who owns and lives on the top 2 floors of the home. i viewed the apartment for about 10 minutes, and before i left, had claimed it as MINE.

the next week was a scramble and mixture of filling out applications, selling belongings to pay for the rent, biting my nails waiting for approval, and all the general nervousness that comes with starting a new life. i jumped for joy and thanked the heavens after getting approved to move in, but struggled with coming up with the money for the broker’s fee (12% of the annual rent– have you lost your mind?). i was able to get the broker down to 10%, and by the grace of God, was given the money i needed from two very good and amazing friends of mine who i love and appreciate dearly! everything came together, and the apartment officially became mine on june 1st.

i cannot tell you how ecstatic i am right now. i feel like a new man…seriously! an individual re-ignited with vigor, joy and new life. i walk around this apartment unable to keep a smile off my face and contain my excitement. i thank God for it and everything in it– the walls, the floors, the appliances, the space. it’s perfect for will 2.0– the name a friend and i have given this new era of my life. unlike bungalow 425, terrace 367 has more of a modern feel to it, and, complete with half the furnishings of my old apartment, is a true bachelor’s pad as opposed to the extension of my college dorm room that was my old living space. you can see my growth as an individual from the moment you walk into the apartment, and you can sense my progression as you walk about the room.

i can’t wait to see what i create, and who i become as a result of living here. terrace 367 is the new bungalow 425, and will 2.0 is the next evolution of a man. God is so good! let’s go!