Continuity. The ability to go on no matter what. This is one of the key factors of human survival. I have noticed that the word survival, is synonymous to my own fucking existence. My name is Lorenzo Basque and my New York story continues… Sometimes, when there’s so much bullshit going on in my life, and I could barely keep up, comes a moment where I question if I should go on or just simply give up. And what about New York? Does the city still give a fuck about me when I’m circled back to my suffering? And surprisingly, the answer is yes. I haven’t written any fiction during the past 8 months of life. Of course I’m still living here in Manhattan. But that all changed, when a turn of events changed for a strange reason. Or maybe, I fragments of me changed to certain degree. But New York City itself – the place where I live and work, is still exactly the same. Which makes me wish that I’m New York, and not a New Yorker. Over the coarse of 10 months, I went through a couple of interesting jobs. The first one which got me hired, was a low level job working for a newsroom called New America Media, a liberal media company headquartered in the Soho District here in Manhattan, that broadcasts its news segments in social media platforms. It’s a pretty interesting job and I did enjoy working there. Until I got a new manager, some blonde haired, and cold blue eyed woman who never displayed any human emotion. She’s pretty much a fucking cyborg. She fired two of my colleagues whom she didn’t like and threatened to fire me if I disagree with her leadership. I stuck around with her draconian management style, which I regret because she made my office life a living hell! She was a total cunt and displayed mannerisms of a deranged psychopath. She has the face of a CIA torturer that you see in movies. There is no “light of life” in her eyes. Just cruelty and nothing else. Then one day out of the blue, I got a phone call from a staffing agency whom I emailed my resume’ years ago, asking me if I’m available and interested to work for Sheppard & Co, an exclusive wealth management firm based in Midtown, near Grand Central Terminal. The position was for General Admin and of course, out of desperate need to get away from my tyrant manager, I said yes. So the interview was set up and of course, the position was offered to me. Little did I know, it’s even more stressful that my job at the newsroom. The only plus is, I don’t have to get coffee or lunch for any of my managers. The managers there treat me decent actually and I do like them, they seem more human. But the workload is fucking stressful. I feel like, I went from one bullshit job to another. Suddenly and suddenly, I found myself in East Village,at a bar called Blue and Gold, on East 7th Street and 1st Avenue. I ran into a charismatic young woman, her name was Diane, I’d say she’s about twenty five years old and I saw her when I walked in of the bar, looking up profiles of random people on Instagram on her phone. Like a desperate and horny caveman, I sat next to her. She’s not extremely beautiful, but you can’t deny the fact that she’s also attractive. Slender figure, honey blonde wavy hair that’s down to her shoulders, and her light brown eyes.

“How’s that stalk session coming along?” I asked with a sneer in my face.

“Not so good, as it turns out these potential clients of mine aren’t who they describe themselves to be.” She replied.

“And what do you do?”

“I’m a saleswoman, I sell apartments here in Manhattan. And what about you, what do you do?”

“I’m not sure if I wanna tell you. It’s pretty mediocre and I’m not really proud of it.”

“Then why don’t you switch jobs?!”

“Easy for you to say!”

“Look, I understand it’s difficult to switch day jobs but somehow, I think if you’re not happy where you are, you might as well leave. It’s not healthy to stick around around to a job that you hate and makes you suffer most of the time. Regardless if it’s emotional or physical. We only live once and for you to spend months or years at a job that where it makes you wanna crawl out of your skin and kill yourself, then leave! It’s not worth it.”

“How about you? Do you like your job?” I asked.

She looked at me straight in the eyes and smiled.

“I love my job. I’m passionate about it, I love waking up in the morning and helping clients find their next home, there’s something special about bringing a new home to someone.”

“You seem very passionate about what you do, that’s something.”

“I know. After all, I grew up homeless. My parents both failed to make money to support us, so we moved from one apartment to another. You name the borough, we lived there. From Queens, Staten Island, Brooklyn, The Bronx, and here in Manhattan as well. They both had jobs but they struggled with drug addiction, so instead of saving their paychecks to pay our rent, their paychecks went straight to their drug dealers.”

I looked at her with sincere sympathy. I was able to relate to her struggle.

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“Thank you. But just because my parents fucked up and died before they reached their 40th birthdays, it doesn’t mean that I’ll end up like them. I wouldn’t allow that to happen to me. Never. By the way, what do you do?”

“I’m an office admin for a wealth management firm in Midtown. It’s not that interesting, believe me.”

“It could be interesting if you actually love your job. That’s the whole point. You know what, why don’t you get into real estate?”

“I never really thought about it. I know I have the salesmanship skills but I’m not so sure about real estate.”

“I think you have potential to succeed in it.”

She looked at me with serious face and belief at the same time.

“Thanks, it’s been a while since someone have faith in me like you do. Sorry, what’s your name?”

“It’s Diane. Diane Michaels. And you are?”

“Lorenzo. Lorenzo Basque. Amazing to meet you Diane.”

Diane then stood up from her chair and gestured that she needs to leave.

“Lorenzo, I would love to stay and chat but I got an early appointment with a client tomorrow morning. I’m showing a townhouse in West Village, it’s a pretty penny and I need to be there one hour early before the client arrives. But here’s my card, call me and you should seriously consider shifting into real estate sales.”

“I will consider it. Thank you.”

“Wait a minute, what is it that you do exactly? You have something creative in you and I’m not sure what it is..”

“Wow, you’re one of the few people who could see that. I’m supposed to be a writer. Fiction and poetry.”

“That is really fascinating! Imagine a money making real estate agent and a writer at the same time!”

“You sound more excited than I am.”

“Maybe I am. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, just make sure you text me back or call me back.”

She laughed softly, then left, I kept her business card with me. As it turns out, she’s a broker for Sotheby’s, a real estate company specializing in the sale of luxury properties. For the first time in a century, I found myself inspired and attracted to someone. So now I know, that she’s not bullshitting me. She’s not broke. She’s actually generating profits. And that’s always a plus. When I looked to my left, my dead psychiatrist, Suzanne, dressed in a 60’s fashion, a headband, and a dark blue silk dress, is smoking a cigarette.

“She’s a keeper, you should pursue her while she’s still available.” She said.

“I see you haven’t changed your dress since 1968!” I replied.

“How’s life?”

“Mundane, but it’s starting to be interesting again. How’s death?”

“It’s not bad, I don’t have to worry about diets or gaining wait. So this slender figure that accentuates this silk dress is forever. Listen, I think you just found the person who can actually rescue you.”

“That’s great, like a sugar mama?”

“Diane Michaels is more than that. Her ability to save you is more than just money and you know that.”

“Save me from what?!”

“From yourself.”

Suzanne then walked away and I went back inside Blue and Gold, to finish my drink.

The very next day, I enrolled at the New York Real Estate Institute on West 36th Street, for the New York State Real State Sales License, I have to say that I’m actually a little excited. My life here in New York City, will continue but will also about to change at the same time. Bad or good, I have no fucking idea.