Today's Apartment Sadness listing suggests that the market might be getting a little worse for landlords/subletters looking to gouge the desperate and homeless. It's a six-month sublet in Chinatown that has appeared on Craigslist several times in the last week, starting at $2500 a month last week, dropping to $2400 a few days later after some probably tepid response, and as of yesterday the price dropped to $2100. I wonder what the problem could be renting this gem?

Well, first of all, it's a sublet, so nobody is going to be willing to pay top-dollar to live in decidedly not-top-dollar conditions knowing that they have to move again anyway. (The leaseholder, whose name is Will, says he's going to LA "for the next year," and you have the option of either a six-month or a one-year sublet. But given how categorically depressing the apartment is, I have to wonder if Will will ever come back barring some tragedy or terminal illness.)

Then there's the apartment itself. Let's start with the photo above, which gives us the widest angle of what is obviously an incredibly narrow space. It's a studio, and it appears to have a functioning kitchen and bathroom, which is saying a lot for "studios" that appear in this column. It looks like there's a mural you'll have to live with, painted on that wall to the left. Does that say "Hungry" or "Horny" up there at the top? I can't tell.

Next we have the sleeping quarters/desk/dining area, by which I mean this bunk situation. Dinner for one?


It's a rickety little ladder up to what appears to be a 3-inch thick twin mattress where one can comfortably masturbate alone and reflect on the inherent humiliation built in to tenement architecture.

The shitter, which is what I feel compelled to call it in this case, is certainly cozy. Does the cat litter box come ready-to-poop-in in this "furnished" pad? Does the cat come with the apartment? In any event, good luck using that sink without getting a noseful there.


Next we have the kitchen, which indeed has a miniature size but still four-burner range, as well as a microwave and sink. But oh, that's all the space we have. You'll see in the corner of the bunk-bed photo above, the refrigerator has to live outside the kitchen. The exposed water heater, obviously, is a nice touch that reminds everyone who lives here that they are too poor to live anywhere else. Also a nice touch: the dead roses in the Coca-Cola cup.


And finally we have the "living room."


Would you spend north of two grand for a bunk bed, a kitchen where dreams go to die, and a musty dorm futon? Of course not!

One might even offer to pay more, however, to have all of this guy's shit removed and burned.

And I'd like to address the issue of windows. I don't see one, do you? I think there might not be one, though as you can see in the exterior shot below, someone in this building has a window. But this could, for all we know, be a basement or ground floor unit around the back.


As the ad states, the unit is "charming" and "cozy" and "fantastic," while another person might prefer the descriptors "dark" and "cramped" and "nightmare inducing." You probably never want to take hallucinogens here. Also, "just a block from the TransAmerica Pyramid (walk out your door and see world-class landmarks in, like, minutes!)" Way to sell it, Will.

And Will, are you by chance paying something less than a $1000 for this place and looking to bankroll your life in LA by profiting off this deal to the tune of $1100 or more a month? Just curious.

Anyway, your furniture is amazing. But I was hoping for something with a stripper pole.

All previous editions of Apartment Sadness.