This does not bode well

Our first encounter with our lovely neighbors came when we were wrapping up construction of our lofts. We put our leftover wood outside in the hallway for a few days, and were met with warmth and grace:


No your eyes do not deceive you, that is in fact graffiti scribbled into the side of our loft. I'll spare you the crude rendition of the a bedbug drunkenly smeared on the floor, as well as the hilarious and touching "thanks for the free wood" graffiti, but suffice it to say I am pretty guarded when dealing with any of our neighbors. Except for the family with a baby next to us. And the girl who lives down the hall. Unless she did it. In which case I hate her.

Then I googled "250 Moore Brooklyn" and the first thing that came up is this, which actually makes our insane neighbors 4% justified.

Grrr.

But we're having our party in less a month! Not grrr!

Tightness Now

It's a loft? No. It's a 9 Star Hotel and here's mutherfuckin' why:


Work stations! This where Woodson and I spend hours illustrating, After Effectsing, designing, and editing. Not Bluetoothing text documents to one another. Definitely not e-mailing each other.

DJ Booth!

Living Room! Note the twin televisions, twin coffee tables, and twin embarrassing DVD collections. Dealing with our redundancies doesn't make any sense. There is a tentative plan to put one TV on top of the fridge, which DOES make sense. Also... for real, does anyone want a coffee table?

What? You don't have a walk-in closet? No? Not even underneath your bed? That's funny. I got this one but it's like sort of whatever. p.s. twin ACs.

Oh, but shit. The Scarlet Letter of Bushwick. Thanks for the house-warming note, anonymous neighbors. Honeymoon over? (yes)

Loftecles

A video tour of our loft, unconsciously conducted while walking around and talking to C-Town on the phone. Also, I make tea at one point.

Welcome Home, Bitches!

This is what building a loft inside of a loft looks like. Two, actually.


Check out this sweet B-Boy space pre-loftification.

Woody already had his walls up when I decided I wanted a second window on mine.

There's mine. Our closets are underneath.

Woody's treehouse.


In the span of a week, we took one room and made it three! And by we, I mean two guys both named Jeff. Now the only things standing in our way are the billions of tiny plaster dust particles that settle in our lungs every night as we sleep in our new tiny rooms within a room. That and a lack of eating tools...