The Art of Living Famous

By James Altucher

Everything started when I personally saved the entire global economy in March, 2009. I was living on Wall Street. Directly across the street from the New York Stock Exchange. Everytime I walked out of my building I’d see the enormous flag of the New York Stock Exchange, then I would see hundreds of tourists taking pictures, then I would see Federal Hall, where George Washington was sworn in as the country’s first President. I felt famous for living on such a famous corner.

Before that, just like in the 90s, I lived in the Chelsea Hotel. I moved there after I separated from my now ex-wife. But I dated one girl who asked to see where I lived. She saw it and then left. A few days later she told me she had to discuss with her therapist about what she saw there. She, herself, was a therapist but I guess therapists have to see therapists. Else how could they make a living?

She said, “My therapist says you have committment issues because you live in a hotel.”

“She doesn’t know me though.”

“It’s the hotel thing. What kind of man lives in hotels?” She looked at me and then answered her question, ”Someone who can’t stay grounded and make a home.”

“But with me it’s the exact opposite. I actually moved BACK home when I moved here. This is where I lived before I was married. Now this is where I live AFTER. I actually went to the one place where I had made home in the city. I lived here for three years before I got married. This place is my roots.”

“Plus,” she said, “it’s disgusting in there.”

So I had to move.

But I like living in BIG places. Not big in terms of spaciousness, although that’s nice if you can get it. But BIG in terms of, “I live HERE!” The Chelsea Hotel felt special like that. And this one building on Wall Street (actually, 15 Broad Street but right on the corner) was calling to me. I had heard about the place from a friend (thanks Marissa C!) and then it was the only place I wanted to live.

I told the girl I was dating where I was going to move. She said, “don’t expect me to go down there all the time. I work up on the Upper East Side.” No problem. She said, “And if you buy any furniture from Ikea, we are breaking up.” I didn’t own any furniture because I had been living in a hotel.

I didn’t know what she meant. I looked at some places on the web that had nice beds that she pointed me to. The beds were $20,000 or more. I saw perfectly fine beds at furniture stores for about $1000. “What’s the difference?” I asked her. “I don’t know but trust me there’s a big difference.”

We broke up.

I moved in.

I loved it. Sometimes I had to go on CNBC and I would just go downstairs, across the street, and go into the CNBC studio inside the Exchange. Every morning, at that time , I was doing videos for thestreet.com. The video guy would meet me right outside my building, we’d do a video for five minutes, and then I’d go back upstairs. I was fired a month later. But still, it was great for that month.

One time in early March, 2009 I decided to have some fun. I was sick of the market going down so I decided to stop it.

The market was at it’s low point. The S&P even hit the Satanic number of 666. Everyone walking on my block was depressed. I was living dead center in the middle of a global heart attack.

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