Dear Mt. Vernon,

I’m sure you’ve seen the signs, such as the commitment contracts, faxes from title companies and other paperwork sitting on the dining room table. I’m leaving you soon. As much as I have loved you, I wasn’t able to find equity in you and I have to move on. Trust me, I’ve looked; but your condo fees are as high as rent. It’s time for us to go our separate ways.

I have a few more goodbyes to say.

My non-driving ass. Believe it or not, I’ll miss you. I’ve always hated driving. We actually parted ways a few months ago. Driving has again become a necessity for me. Before I met you, I had access to everywhere. When I met you, I only had easy access to a single place and the neighborhood became more than a place where I slept. Over time, the neighborhood and I became one. I now see layers of the city that I never before realized existed before you.

My half block commute. Who couldn’t love you?

The transvestite prostitutes in front of my building. Bye-bye girls, you were great entertainment. Remember the time you had that huge tranny riot out in front of my building? I turned off the TV that night, made some popcorn, sat in a chair by the window and watched you. You’re better than cable.

The non-tranny male prostitutes roaming around at night. Thanks for that great deal you offered me for fallatio the other day. Although I am most certainly not in the market for your services, I can still respect a businessman who offers reasonable rates. Hats off to you.
I do have one request of you, when you get humped by a John on the hood of my car, could you please throw the offending condom at least 3 feet from the car and not leave it on my windshield? Thanks.

Mugger man, how could I forget you? When I first moved here I was terrified of you. Over time I learned to look out for you … except that one time you snuck up behind me. Do you remember that time? I was carrying a six pack under my arm, pulled one bottle out, smashed it on the pavement and held it to your throat. As scared as I was, I got to watch you run away from me. Aside from that being the most gratifying 5 pack that I ever drank, you gave me a courage that I never before had. Now, there is a part of me that actually enjoys our street crossing game. You know the game, I’m walking down the sidewalk and you cross the street a block ahead of me, then I cross the street and keep an eye on you. Then you half heartedly follow me for half a block or so before I turn around and stare right at you before you decide that I’m more trouble than I’m worth and walk away. I love the fact that you think that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.

Beggar Man. You yell at me when I refuse to engage in conversation with you, and then pretend you weren’t going to ask me for anything and act as though you are offended. Then you start yelling racial epithets at me. I’m actually not going to miss you at all. Fuck you.

My local pub. You’re the only place I know that is equal parts black/white/strait/gay/white collar/blue collar/failed artists/etc. Your demographic matches the neighborhood exactly. No matter who we are, if we live in the neighborhood, we come inside you and enjoy each others company. You rock.

Jane Nolastname. I shouldn’t be saying goodbye to you in public, but we’ve had some good times. Meaningless, but good times nonetheless. We meet each other and chat for an hour or so before leaving the bar. You always live in a well kept efficiency. Obviously you have issues, or you wouldn’t be Jane Nolastname. But I’m a Jack Nolastname, and obviously have issues myself. Perhaps we make each other feel a little less lonely for a couple of hours, or perhaps we’re just bored. I don’t know the answer, but goodbye and good luck.

My apartment. Oh God will I miss you with your ample space, high ceilings and views of the entire city.

To all of you, you’ve given me so much and I’ve given so little in return. Over the years you have molded me into the person that I am today. You are the only place that I have ever lived that had no expectations of me. Consequently, I’ve been free to be who I am. We’re all freaks, every last one of us. We’re certainly stranger than we are hip. I guess you could call us inner city carney folk. I’ve never been happier than the time I spent living with you.

I hate leaving you … love,

ee