Not so fast, Seniormole.
Alicia Angel (is that her real name?) is a porcine 32 year-old who writes songs for Nickelodeon. Now, since she gets paid every time some shitty "Dora the Explorer" song is on TV, she isn't quite as bad off as songwriters who lose royalties via piracy.
Still, instead of living in some ritzy building, she's in a fairly crappy part of Manhattan in "a building where tenants are paying bargain rents that are heavily subsidized by federal mortgages and/or rent subsidies." Yes, there actually are a few subsidized-housing high-rises that cater to "artists." Very few. Most of them are around 42nd Street way over on 9th or 10th avenue. They look like "projects," the same shoddily constructed but modern-looking buildings erected for minorities to live in.
To get in, you have to prove you're a struggling actor, musician or singer, wait and wait, and MAYBE you get in. And gee, sometimes you are still put in a situation where you have to SHARE your apartment.
In this case, Alicia is sharing her space with a black potheaded stripper. Just how a stripper qualifies as an "artist" I have no idea, but she IS black, so that makes a difference. "Ah, a minority, well she most definitely should get subsidized housing. She's black."
No, not as impressive as it might look. For one thing, the Chelsea part of town is pretty boring. It's within walking distance of more interesting places, but it doesn't have that many good supermarkets, is fairly close to a Latino-dominated slab of subsidized housing, and I'm sure the walls are paper thin, and a lot of the tenants are NOT sensitive artists of any kind, but noisy obnoxious clods. And yes, some tenants are likely to be utterly despicable street bitches who either do drugs or turn tricks. Others could be hip-hop loudmouths, Banksy-type maniacs, or other deadbeats and con-artists and drama queens.
IF I'M BEING HONEST, I wouldn't want either of these bitches for neighbors. The black twat is a drug-addled pot-smoking dirty girl, and the Nickelodeon slob who writes melodies for "Dora the Explorer" cartoons, or whatever, is a fatso who probably blasts her piano for hours and hours, and might even bellow along as she struggles to find a rhyme for BLUNT or RUNT or PUNT.
So there you are. Songwriting is a dismal profession. You either starve because your royalties are stolen and are miserable because you have a day job you hate...or you barely get by on what the union forces broadcasters to pay, and are lucky to live in subsidized housing with a load of monkeys.
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