Home Life

March 3, 2021 By Phillip Retuta

New Beginnings.

Well, I had to make the bold yet appropriate decision to move into a new apartment — one that has heat, gas, and whose ceiling won’t leak and collapse on me while I sleep. I truly loved that old apartment on Bedford Avenue, thinking that it’d be the last place I lived in New York before leaving the city for good. It was perfect till it wasn’t, and the compounding problems only cascaded into a miserable and potentially life-threatening situation. I had no logical choice but to break a two-year lease that I had signed in August, abandoning the place I called home for the last 4 years. Fingers crossed I get my full deposit back.

Fun fact: according to my neighbors who continued to live in the building, the landlord had the gas and heat restored three days after I officially moved out.

Anyway, let’s move on, shall we?

The new apartment is much better and, of course, much warmer. In fact, it’s so much warmer that there are days I have to open the windows in the middle of winter; it’s such a weird and confusing situation when you compare it to the circumstance surrounding the Bedford apartment. The rent at the new apartment is slightly less than what I paid for at the last place (bonus points, and I’d like to thank my realtor friend Brett who helped me find this place so quickly), is bigger, has better natural lighting, and has a second bedroom that I’d use as an office/Dusty’s own playroom. My TV is even separated from my work area, so I’m not watching as much Cable news (and my friend Brian would say that might be good for my mental health). With the pandemic raging into its first year and a lot of New Yorkers abandoning the city, I got a great deal on an otherwise expensive apartment. They say sticking through the hard times will yield some sort of reward, but holy fuck has it been a craptastic year for me. This new place (along with adopting Dusty) feels like compensation for all the emotional, physical (like freezing my ass off), and financial suffering I went through in 2020.

In regards to COVID-19, I’ve received my first dose of the Pfizer vaccine. With my high blood pressure as a pre-existing condition, I was in one of the early eligible groups to get the shot — or as I call it, a Fauci Ouchie. I suppose my smoking and high stress living/working/money situation grotesquely and morbidly paid off (just thinking about my shitty life a year or even a few months ago and how it is now brings me a sense of relief). I really want to see my parents in California (who’ve been vaccinated for a while), and getting vaccinated myself brings me one step closer to seeing them again.

The shot itself was administered at a local college gym by FEMA soldiers, and it hurt compared to some other vaccines/shots/blood tests I’ve had it the past. I chalked it up to some young, inexperienced kids in uniform as opposed to the gentle touch of a nurse or doctor. As for side effects, my arm is sore, but I haven’t experienced anything else. I can’t wait for the second dose so the Deep State can eventually track me when I go to Taco Bell. At least, I’m sure, my cellphone coverage can handle 5G now by the sheer proximity of my Pfizer-branded microchip.

All in all, 2021 is starting to look positive (and yeah, we got rid of Trump), so cheers to some new beginnings.

January 31, 2021 By Phillip Retuta

Done With This Apartment.

Day 323 of self-isolation and day 184 without gas/heat.

I loved my apartment — at least, until 6 months ago.

The past few days have been the coldest New York has experienced this season, and even with 4 space heaters constantly running, my apartment has dipped to a low of 52 degrees. It’s been very uncomfortable, and I dread leaving the covers of my bed to put on a coat and gloves and do my design job at my work computer. I’m joining Zoom meetings in a trapper hat, and I’m designing email headers with fingerless gloves. My toes are cold even with thermal socks and slippers, so I’m usually standing in front of my computer to keep my blood flowing.

One day, I thought, we’ll have gas again and all will be well and warm and I can use a proper stove.

On Friday, I get a call from my landlord and texts from my remaining neighbors saying that the pipes froze. Luckily, because I’m by the source and near the electric water heater, I still had running water.

Well…

This morning, at 3:30 AM, I was finishing up Spider-Man: Far From Home, when I thought I heard rain outside of my window. I knew NYC was going to be hit with a snowstorm in the next few days, but there was no precipitation on my weather app.

Then, the doorway to my bedroom started dripping a lot of water — it looked like it was raining inside. I quickly entered my room, and all the walls were leaking. Every single fucking corner. The sound of water rushing could be heard above me: a pipe had clearly burst.

It’s early in the morning, so I couldn’t reach my landlord. The superintendent picked up eventually, and I called 911 to shut off the water. My super was on his way, but he instructed me to check the two vacant apartments above me for any leakage; there was none, so the water was probably coming from inside the walls (side note: those other two apartment were very small, so I definitely lucked out with this building).

The FDNY quickly came and turned everything off. As the fireman was leaving, he said “You’re not gonna have gas either,” to which I explained we haven’t had gas or heat since August. He shrugged, and left without saying anything else. No advice, no empathy.

The super eventually came and inspected everything, and I apologized for waking him up. He made sure the water was off, and as he looked inside my bedroom, he looked at the wall of all my dog photographs and asked which one passed away. I pointed to the middle one, and my super of four years said “That was a good dog.”

Fortunately for me, I found a new place nearby. Before the pipes froze, I already put in a deposit and am just waiting for the proper documents to break my current two-year lease and a time to sign the new one. Truly, I had so much hope that I could stay. I thought I could wait things out, and the city would turn on our gas and that my landlord would get everything fixed. It was a tough choice to leave, but for my health and sanity, it’s time to close this chapter in my life.

I was sentimental at first, nostalgic over the happy memories I had in my current apartment; it was my home for the past 4 years: I built an amazing home with an amazing backyard. I had amazing rosemary and mint and lavender plants in a garden I tended for years. My climbing rose vines were coming up nicely. I hosted parties where friends would grill, let their dogs run around, and sit beside a firepit.

Then I realized, no — the past two years had horrible memories: my dog died in my arms here. I got furloughed. I got kicked out for 1 month for that facade falling. I’ve cooked on a hot plate since September. I’m freezing in January. And now I can’t even keep warm and sleep in my sopping-wet, water-logged bedroom. I can’t even drink a glass of goddamn water. No, I’m leaving this apartment with bad memories.

Walked Dusty, came back and shelves fell from the walls being soft.

My plan was to completely move out by February 28th and try to appease my current and future landlords by paying rent at both places. After this morning, with everything wet and no water, I’m feeling less than diplomatic.

January 15, 2021 By Phillip Retuta

Thoughts on Dying, Death, and the Leftovers.

Taken in 2008, during a ghost tour in Chicago’s Mt. Carmel Cemetery.

Let me preface this post: I have no intention of dying anytime soon, so don’t worry about me, my physical health, or my state of mind.

I was lying in bed the other day, and I realized that if I were to ever die in my sleep, the medical examiner or coroner would be able to pinpoint the exact time of my death. I wear my Apple Watch to bed every night in order to track my sleep, and the app I use monitors my heartbeat or if I’m wearing my watch at all. I assume that if my heart stopped and I died during my sleep (the best way to go, in my opinion), my watch and the sleep app would record the exact minute I passed on. All the data would then be transferred to my iPhone. Good luck, though, trying to figure out my watch or phone’s passcodes.

I know it’s morbid to think about death, but the thought of it has always been in the back of my mind — especially with my family and friends. Those thoughts are only exasperated at the fact that I lost two good friends in the past 6 months. I worry and dread the day either of my parents pass, and I fear I won’t be able to handle it. My dad just turned 76 and has surpassed my grandfather’s age when he died, so I have slight anxiety about inevitably when it comes to my loved ones. We all know it’s coming for everybody eventually, but are we emotionally and mentally prepared for it?

Me, on the other hand? I think I accept myself dying at anytime. It’s entirely possible I could die tomorrow or next year or 60 years from now. I’m a fairly unhealthy individual (hell, I’m trying to be otherwise), but maybe I’ll be one of those centenarians who’ll tell his great grandchildren the horrors of 2020, of Trump, of 9/11, of AOL, and of how Taco Bell removed potatoes from their menu. It’s hypocritical to worry about others dying but not worrying about the death of oneself, and I know my loved ones want me to live as long as possible. I admit, it’s selfish to hold onto others but have a certain degree of apathy towards oneself.

Regardless, I feel like I should make a living will. I’m not rich enough yet to have my own lawyer or create a will on Legal Zoom, so I’ll state my intentions here. This may not be official official, but here’s where I want everything to stand, and how I want to divide my pitiful estate. Who knows, I could get married and have kids, and this could all change.

In the event of unseen circumstances, this is the will of Phillip Nievera Retuta (well, as it stands like right now):

I do have life insurance from work, and currently my brother is the first benefactor, and then my dad.
I’d want Dusty and Nico’s ashes/paw print and collar given to my parents. They’ll love Dusty as much as I do and would want Nico’s remains.
Electronics, computer equipment, and design/camera/media equipment given to my brother. He’ll need it and want it.
Fish given to my fish enthusiast friend Gino. He’s the most capable of taking care of my aquarium.
Plants to be split up between Morgan, Vi, and Monica. They’re good with plants.
Vinyl records can be split between friends.
Mark can have my sourdough starter.
Cooking equipment given to my mom.
Books to be split up by anyone — first come, first serve.
Any nice clothes can be split up by anyone — first come, first serve.
Dog toys to be split up between Dusty and the rest of the dogs.

I suppose that covers most of my earthly belongings in the unforseen event of my death — but god knows if I’ll buy a car or house next week, win the lottery tomorrow, or suddenly adopt a dozen kittens. It made me realize that when I do make an official last will and testament, this post might cause some conflict: if I die at 107, I don’t want my friends feuding over my LCD Soundsystem records or my copy of David Sedaris’ Me Talk Pretty One Day. Ah well.

Should I end this with a signature to make it more formal?

January 1, 2021 By Phillip Retuta

Thoughts on 2020 and New Years Resolutions.

It feels like each year I reflect on how my year went and how it compares to other years. 2007 was a good year, for instance, while 2005 was an overall shitty year — details I don’t want to exhaust anyone with.

Now that I think about it, both 2019 and 2020 were such awful years. 2019 was when my workplace was going through so many changes with co-workers getting laid off or quitting (hence a fear for my own job security), and let’s not forget losing Nico.

2020 wasn’t any better with the virus, drawing sides along the racial divide, getting furloughed, being financially insecure more than ever, getting kicked out of my apartment, and not having heat or cooking gas into the winter. A total shitstorm that perfectly embodies this year.

Still, despite personal, societal, and political problems, there were some good news to come out of 2020: Biden won and Dusty came into my life.

Coming into 2021, I think I’ll actually pursue some New Year Resolutions: I’ll continue to stop smoking, for one thing. I’ll try to eat a little healthier and lose some more weight, for another. Maybe be more creative and start making dog videos again. Hopefully I can save more money and finally become an adult — like buy a car or buy a home, maybe find a girlfriend. Imagine that? All of this, with the sincerest of desires and a little bit of work, can actually come to pass in 2021 — and I hope this year will be better than the last two.

December 30, 2020 By Phillip Retuta

Ghosts, Gangsters, Vampires, and Weed: Favorite TV Shows of 2020.

During this long-ass duration of self-quarantine, I was able to really get acquainted again with television. I simply have a lot of time being home by myself and not seeing anybody, and the hum of the TV makes me feel a little less lonesome. When I’m not inundating myself with CNN and local news, I love drawn-out narratives, making humor at the expense of our grim reality, and spectacular visuals and cinematography. If anything positive can come out of 2020, it’s good TV.

Like my top 2020 albums post, here are my ten favorite shows of 2020 in no particular order. Keep in mind, I haven’t watched The Crown or The Queen’s Gambit yet, and in my opinion, there were better shows than The Boys Season 2, Killing Eve Season 3, or The Undoing. And I’ll try to be as spoiler-free as possible.

Fargo Season 4, FX
I love Noah Hawley’s take on the Coen Brother’s movie. With an all-star cast and a story centering on race, ethnicity, and what it is to be an American, this season of Fargo is so much better than the last. And I love Jessie Buckley’s character of Oraetta Mayflower.

Lovecraft Country, HBO
There was a lot of hype for this show, and it’s well-deserved. The visuals and effects alone are reasons enough to watch each episodic vignette of late-Jim Crow Era Chicago, but the way it subverts HP Lovecraft’s own racism is powerful in itself. Plus, Jurnee Smollett gives a great performance — and she’s a photographer who gets to hang out with ghosts and Shoggoth.

The Mandalorian Season 2, Disney+
I was a little apprehensive to finish season 1, but that’s because I didn’t want to use my friends’ Disney+ account; I didn’t want to feel like a leech or somehow interrupt them watching something. With the quarantine, however, I was desperate and binge-watched the rest of the first season and immediately caught up with the second. Hooked on Baby Yoda and cowboy gun-slinger Mando (call me a fan of Pedro Pascal), I waited every week to watch each release. I also kept referring back to Wookipedia and messaging my friend Brian to keep up with the Star Wars lore beyond the movies.

The Haunting of Bly Manor, Netflix
I’ll admit it’s not as great and mind-bending as its predecessor, The Haunting of Hill House, but Bly Manor holds its own. Great set design and cinematography. This season’s overall message about grief and loss and love hits you in the gut, and the show is more about yearning and relationships than scary-ass ghosts.

Schitt’s Creek Final Season, Pop TV
One show I binge-watched while banned from my home, starting from season two to its finale, was Schitt’s Creek. Maybe I was apprehensive trying to get deep into another series. Of course, after watching everything, it was worth my time and the cast’s and show’s Emmys were well-deserved. It was a happy ending for the Rose family, and 6 seasons of bougie disfunction were wrapped up so nicely. Lastly, the over-the-top characters of Moira and David are still making me search YouTube video compilations of them.

Doom Patrol Season 2, HBO Max
I love quirky programs like Doctor Who, but with that show off this season Doom Patrol filled that void. It has a serialized narrative, awesome visuals and effects, and seeing Brendan Fraser as a short-tempered, swearing robot is worth watching.

Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, HBO
Of course, one way to stay up-to-date with the news and current events is to watch CNN, but to stay up-to-date with a comedic twist? Watch John Oliver. Him and his show will always be my favorite way to spend a Sunday night, but with the absolute shitshow 2020 was, you need someone like John Oliver for a good laugh and a good, angry “fuck off” to this year.

What We Do In The Shadows Season 2, FX
This show about New York City (well, Staten Island) vampires keeps on getting better and better and demonstrates that even supernatural entities are as human as you and me. With appearances from Mark Hamill and Nick Kroll and spoofs of Williamsburg, office life, and Gen Z culture, I felt compelled to tune in every Wednesday night to catch What We Do In Shadows.

High Maintenance Season 6, HBO
Speaking of unsettlingly true vignettes of Brooklyn/NYC culture, the sixth season of High Maintenance was underrated by everyone but still so very good and very awesome. Each episode made me think, “yeah, that’s what living in NYC is like” — even against the background premise of purchasing weed from The Guy. What I loved more about this season, though, is that we get to know more about The Guy than ever before. It’s a very sentimental season.

How To With John Wilson, HBO
And more everyday vignettes of NYC living. How To With John Wilson is so subtle and so hilarious, and I’m more than impressed by the amount of footage he continuously shot. John Wilson’s observations and his way to take his footage into a larger, moral lesson is funny and inspirational to me to keep on documenting everything. Seriously, after watching the season, I really want to become John Wilson’s friend. It sucks that there are only a handful of episodes (you’ll see why), but here’s hoping he makes more.

Oh, I forgot to mention Tiger King, but everyone knows about that. I guess that’s number 11?