2015: The Pleasures of the Flesh

i woke up this morning and, since it's the first cold sharp day of the new year, i made my bed, crisp and clean, and washed all the dishes and hung up my clothes from the night before.

as i stood in front of the white porcelain sink, my feet chilled by the wood floor, i was struck by the pleasure of the warm water on my hands and the steady balance of my legs. i picked up each tea cup one at a time and looked at how beautiful it was. it made me so happy that i stopped and took a deep breath and felt how easily and simply my lungs expanded.

all of sudden, i was filled with such overwhelming gratitude that my eyes filled with tears. not just for my body doing easily what i needed it to do, but for clean running water, for warm water, for the heat and light and space in my home, even for the softness and reliability of my ratty sweatshirt.

i felt so happy i could burst.

at our post-yoga dinner (yes! i did bikram yoga for new year's eve and it was my best new year's eve in years), i was talking with friends about the things i did to survive cancer. my friend susan avery reminded me how we met at a funeral of a friend. she had been going through her cancer at the same time that i was. at the funeral, i said to susan, "that could have been me."

i don't remember because when we think about our pasts, how we see them keeps changing depending on the present.

but this is not a post about being sick.

this morning, struck breathless and almost weeping with gratitude, i changed the water in the flowers on my dining table and i remembered one thing that saved me, that still saves me - impulse and hedonism - or the pleasures of the flesh.

one of the hardest things about a life-threatening illness is when you are in the hospital and your friends leave. because they get to walk out. they get to walk out and take a big breath of fresh air and feel the sun on the tops of their heads and go back to their everyday lives.

http://tomnewyears.tumblr.com/

in the hospital system, you're increasingly cut off from any sensual pleasure. my senses registered pain and nausea from the needles, the drugs and the smells of rubbing alcohol and cleaning fluids. my tastebuds were numbed. my hearing was jumbled and incoherent. my memory was shot. my brain craved sedation.

i couldn't take another minute of it. i felt like i'd rather die than spend one more second looking through the window at life rather than living. (i am a dervish, so i am not scared of death. in my experience, death is liberating and bright.)

if i was going to be alive, i wanted to be immersed in every second of the material world.

so i walked out.

natural medicine gave me a chance to taste, to breathe, exercise, to feel - not that my way is the only way. just that that worked for me.

like most people whose lives are compromised, i learned to be immensely grateful for every pleasure my body and mind offered me.

all those things we do without thinking - letting your tongue roll over something complex and delicious, inhaling the fragile scent of flowers, reading and comprehending rich, intoxicating prose, listening to a song that makes you float, drinking, swimming, bathing, stretching, kissing.

all those things we have but we don't appreciate - clean water, quiet nights, heat, food in the refrigerator, shoes, clothes that protect our skin and keep us warm. a place to keep the objects and, even more importantly, the people we love safe and secure. the ability to pay our bills and keep our electricity and internet and cell phones running.

so for the beginning of 2015,  if you are reading this, i wish you so much love it feels your heart might burst. i wish your eyes, lips, tongue, skin, muscles, tissues, nerves to give you pleasure. i wish you prosperity and safety and security. i wish you a year of days so crystalline and pure in their beauty that you can barely let them end.

i wish you clean air and water and food and week after week where you don't have to worry about your health, your finances, your loved ones. i wish you clean sheets and a bed. i wish you the freedom of forgiving people who have hurt you and i apologize for any way i might have hurt you or made you feel less. i wish i could erase any pain you still carry.

i wish you gratitude and awe and wonder and serenity that life will unfold in a way that supports you and embraces you. i wish you to feel powerful and graceful.

YOU ARE AMAZING.

i love you. i kiss you. i am so grateful for you.

http://tomnewyears.tumblr.com/

please click on the link and keep it open in another window. the music makes all the difference...

The Crying Game: 9 North Moore vs Zach Vella (and Saif Sumaida)

"nothing is what it seems to be."  never play the crying game with a blogger.

talk about constantly shifting identities - the personality-types involved in multimillion dollar deals are the most bizarre in nyc.

admittedly, i'm one of the 99%. don't know lots of those people. except zach vella. 

last summer, zach's a friendly new neighbor i meet on the sidewalk. here's the email he sent me.

From: Zach Vella
Date: June 8, 2012 7:57:44 PM EDT
To: "'ameenameer@gmail.com'"

Good meeting you. If you are interested in speaking about your ground floor space please let me know.

Best,

Zach Vella
212 686 2500

after sandy, after his development floods my apartment, he's the invisible man. not returning my phone calls, emails, not even the notes i leave with his doorman when i see him encased in black spandex, heading off for a run.

a freezing winter morning, after i write a blogpost about what a nightmare my life is - he's bristling mad that i had dared to write about him.  i figure, he's on the million dollar listing on bravo, he isn't publicity-shy. (on the street, he keeps murmuring about a woman whose wall he put a nail through. he offered to repair the wall but she sued him for all this money and, of course, she lost everything. he looks at me pointedly as he says this, though i miss the implication.)

a month later, i get a phone call, "hey, it's zach!" like we are best friends and i've been expecting his call all day. "are you still interested in renting your place? i just wanted to let you know i spoke to the partners and we are serious."

april 2 (day AFTER april fool's day, when i should have been wiser), zach came to the storefront to talk about how bad he felt about everything that happened. he was so sorry, he really just wanted to help me. the chain of command being what it was, he couldn't pay me himself, but he would be willing to give me a personal loan, out of his own pocket, until the insurance paid for the repairs. (i had actually emailed him the claim denials of all three insurance companies already.)

then, he said he had an idea that would be great for both of us. the development company would rent the entire space for a year, do a renovation that would repair all the apartment damage and pay me upfront for the stuff i lost. then they could use my space as a sales office and model apartment for their new development.

i am blown away. a perfect solution. "that is so kind of you, i would happy to do that," i said. "just so i can figure out my kids and my adjust my schedule - what's your time frame for that?"

zach said, "a month, a month-and-a-half at most."

i changed my mind about him. he was trying to do his best in a difficult situation.

a couple of artists planned a show of paintings and sculptures in the storefront in may. we'd been discussing it since last year. i cancelled the show.

out of courtesy, i didn't write any more blogposts because i knew it made him uncomfortable. i would wait til it was resolved and write something kind. (though the one about zach got over 1500 hits).

our emails:
  
From: Ameena Meer [mailto:ameenameer@gmail.com]
Sent: Tuesday, April 02, 2013 08:20 PM
To: Zach Vella
Subject: thank you

it was great talking to you tonight.

i really appreciate your taking the time to address the issue.

i'm looking at the options - can you give me an idea of what you think the rent would be for a space like this?

thanks again,
ameena

On Apr 3, 2013, at 8:51 AM, Zach Vella wrote:

I will ask our broker but I think you should ask a couple yourself so we you are comfortable with the number

april 17: i put my apartment on the market to give him a number to work with.

ok weird.

may: he finally contacted my broker. he was traveling in africa. obviously doing good works in the developing world, he just wanted to be sure i wasn't going to write anything about him. in the meantime, no further offer of the loan either.

june 6, i'm fed up. nice and patient isn't working. send him a text saying that if he doesn't want me to write about his presence in my life, he needs to get this over with. (don't want to talk because obviously he's only good for what he puts in writing - plus my life is insane.)

he accuses me of extortion.

at this point, i don't care what he thinks. also, i cannot remove my blog as it provides important information for people with cancer.

he says: send me the damages.

for the 10th time, i send him the list - it consists of the destroyed stuff, the plumbing and electrical repairs, and last year's bills for the mold clean-up (subtracting the cost of the upstairs) and the re-build. being a good neighbor, i don't ask him for relocation costs while the work is done.

On Jun 10, 2013, at 11:17 AM, "Ameena Meer" wrote:

hi zach -

as per our conversation on saturday, here is the cost of the repairs.

as we spoke at the beginning of april, the flood happened in november of last year, i feel i've been quite patient.

i would appreciate some response within 24 hours.

i am forwarding you the same email my real estate sent you last week.

thank you,
ameena

On Jun 10, 2013, at 12:23 PM, Zach Vella wrote:

Received

24 hours x 4, no response.  i text again.

bizarrely, he forwards a release. it holds him and his company blameless for everything and i can never write about him or them again. the place for the number is left blank.

this morning, he calls the broker to tell him that his own basement flooded, it was cheap and easy to have it all repaired - my costs are way too high. zach offers me "a loan" for $14,000 - a little over a quarter of the cost of the damages. (in return, i have to delete my blog - which is usually used as an clearing house for alternative cancer information).

i should add that given this drama - my second major flood in two years - means that no insurance carrier will give me coverage for the next three years.

oh, one of the brokers on the million dollar listing is being investigated by the f.b.i. and had been photoshopping new kitchens and floors into his apartment listings.

oh so that's how it works.

want a writer to stop writing? you have to take off the costume.

UPDATE: for everyone who's asking. i decided to stop trying to mr. vella and his business to court. it wasn't worth the time, attention or the money. i sold my place and moved away from rat-infested tribeca. now it's his karma to live with. i wish him all the best.

11 N Moore St - Zach Vella and Saif Sumaida Update

i don't have money or influence, but at least i can write (or type into my laptop)! thanks to tribeca citizen and curbedny, my blogpost about having my kids' bedrooms flooded by a developer got real attention.

i discovered this when i ran into zach vella on my street last saturday.

it was one of those hideous, freezing weekend mornings (rara had had a sleepover the night before and no one got any sleep). i'd gone out to walk the dog in uggs with polar fleece over my pajamas, eyes puffy, coconut oil slathered on my face and my big furry hat to hide under. convinced myself i'd dash in and out without seeing anyone.

of course, zach was out too. i contemplated running inside and putting on mascara, especially since i heard he was a reality real estate tv star, on the million dollar listing. (on the trailer says, a broker says, "zach vella is great, great developer!")

"hi... zach!" i said.

zach glared at me, "you have some nerve! all that stuff you wrote on your blog about me and my kid - now you're talking to me?"

i felt guilty because it's not fair to blame the entire debacle on zach vella. it's just that it's his project and he lives right next door so i thought i could actually talk to him. i figured he was the boss.

me: actually, i didn't write anything terrible about you personally. i just wondered why you didn't return my phone calls or my emails. your construction crew flooded my apartment and then you guys disappeared.

zv: look, i'm not trying to pass the buck, but it's not my problem. i mean, i hired a construction company and it's really their job to deal with it.

me: but it is your project, isn't it? you're the boss.

zv: of course, i'm the boss. but it's not appropriate for me to deal with it... you're ruining my life with your blog. i mean, i have to live here. 

i guess it's like blaming the social security administration on the president. he's the boss but he's not the guy who writes the checks, i think that's what he was saying.


he was unshaven and wearing a sleek black nylon jacket with lots of zippers and kept putting his hands in and out of the pockets. (if it had been another moment, i would have asked where he bought it). i hate confrontation anyway and he looked so unhappy. there was a big black SUV parked across the street waiting for him and the woman who was in the car kept yelling for him to hurry up.

me: i have to live here too. i am a single mother, recovering from cancer, all i'm asking is for you to do the right thing... like return my calls or my emails... or the notes i've left with your doorman. i am supersensitive to mold.

zv: you know, i spoke to my lawyers...

i thought he'd spoken to his lawyers about how to resolve it, but he went on to say that he'd spoken to his lawyers about suing me for defamation of character.

he added that he didn't think it was legal for me to live there anyway.

then he tapped on the window of another enormous SUV. "excuse me, why are you parked here?" the driver assured him he was just waiting for someone in the building.

me: you can't sue me for defamation - i didn't write anything negative about you. i just said, you looked perfectly nice and then you didn't respond.

(wait - was his idea that if he could prove my living conditions were illegal, he could destroy them with impunity? i was trying desperately not to be judgemental.)


zv: well, there are a lot of people who don't like me for different reasons. i mean, i had a business partner and it didn't work out and we parted ways and he's not happy with the way it went, and then i got divorced... people use the opportunity to post comments about me.

me: that's just the nature of the internet. people use the anonymity to say things that they'd be embarrassed to say themselves*.

(the really funny thing is that now zach - or one of his friends - now posts DAILY anonymous posts on my blog about my divorce debacle or my being a muslim. i smile every time. i was deleting them but i'm getting tired of it.)

anyway, the conversation ended with zach taking my cell phone number and promising to call saif sumaida, his muslim contractor.

on wednesday, when i hadn't heard anything, i emailed zach and saif myself. i said how relieved i was to talk to zach in person and that i hoped we could resolve it.

saif sumaida emailed immediately. he said he hadn't heard a word from zach. he sounded sincere in wanting to resolve the issue. he asked me for the list of the damages.

i told him i greatly appreciated his having sent me a check for a little over $3,000 but the costs were more like $40,000 if we did a professional mold removal and then a re-build.

which we JUST did less than a year ago.


he told me he wanted to help me. he told me to be patient because the insurance company was handling it. "these things take time..."

when i explained that, during that time (three months and counting), three girls had to live there,
he kindly offered to give me a check for a few of the damages. he said the best he could do was $5,000 out of his own pocket, if i would just sign a small release that held him and his company blameless for all past and future damage.

saif said he'd come over and inspect the place himself. 

the release was a little odd because he sent it along with a copy of my itemized list of damages, slightly improved on a little excell spreadsheet.

honestly, i'd  be thrilled to meet him but i asked what he wanted to see in the apartment since i was running around last week.

i said, i can't sign that release. i guess i'll just have to sue you for the costs. my apartment is getting moldy.

(i guess i'll keep calling the dept of buildings. every week, the DoB sends a person out who looks around, tells me that the contractors have filed a claim with their insurance so there's nothing more to be done and writes ME a violation for my apartment being moldy.)

saif sumaida emailed back: Good Luck.

on friday, more water poured in to the basement of our building... the power of my pen seems to have been short lived.

wonder what happened next? not at all what i expected, the crying game