Here’s the best apartment-seeker we’ve seen all month [UPDATE]

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Looking for an apartment is hard work, and is also usually never any fun. And sometimes you find shit that’s just too crazy to be believed. You can have fun with it though, as this poem, found tacked up on a pole in Cobble Hill on Court Street by the Wall Street Journal‘s Andrew Grossman proves. With any luck, this actually gets the writer an apartment, not just internet fame. UPDATE: We heard from James, who gave us the scoop on how things came to this, and how the search is going so far.

James told us in an email that he’s lived in Carroll Gardens for two years now, having moved in to a one-bedroom with this then-girlfriend. Even in that case, he said he lucked into the place, since they ended up with the apartment because a friend was moving out. If you’d like to put him up, Carpenter said he’s looking for a place anywhere from the Red Hook waterfront to Prospect Park West, and he comes with a “very sweet” black and white cat named Hardy.

Carpenter also said he didn’t put the poster up to show off his poetry skills, but because while searching on his own, he started feeling a sense of isolation. But, he says posting his flier has reduced his isolation, bringing people out the woodwork to help, who he didn’t even know existed. Carpenter told us he’s gotten words of encouragement, but also a few leads on landlords to talk to. Surprisingly, he’s only been hit with one prank lead, but it was a strange one.

“I got a call from [an old lady] the day after I’d put up my first bunch of flyers; she said her name was Lillian and that she had an apartment for me to check out…I went around the place at the appointed time, and nobody was there; none of the buzzers seemed to work, so I stood there for a couple of minutes, knocking at the gate and hollering ‘Lillian’ at the windows like a fool. [The next day] I got another call from a restricted number and it was her again–only this time she was pretending to be someone else with an apartment at another address for me to visit “before 9 that morning.”  I asked for her number and Googled it; it was the number of a dentist with an office across the street from the address she’d given me, and a signboard hanging in the street with the number printed on it! “

So, maybe let’s have one thing go right this week and help Jim get an apartment?

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