so , to pay the rent for my pitiable one- room apartment ( new yorkers settle for so little in the way of comfort , the city itself , supposedly , redressing the imbalance by its sizzle ) i took up a jobwhere else ? in a bookstore in the village , a squatty , dark , dank little dungeon where used books mixed with a random , arbitrary sampling of some of the newer offerings by our contemporary geniuses .