It’s been way too long since I’ve been in a hotel room. I think the last was The Out in New York, and that was way back in November. In other words, I’m drying to get out and stay somewhere away from home. The heightened hospitality, coupled with the clinical sterility speaks to me in a way that no other juxtaposition can muster. The anonymity is appealing too, the way you can get lost amid the nameless faces and cookie-cutter bodies.
Several fantasies have presented themselves in my head – the first being some secluded wintry get-away at a ski lodge. Not that I’d have anything to do with skiing – I simply want to lounge around by a cozy fireplace, sipping some brown liquor, and wearing a sweater that borders on the ridiculous. The second involves a longer journey – a warm, sunny, secluded beach where the water is turquoise and the cocktails come with colorful umbrellas. The third is even further – the West Coast – somewhere in California, where complaints of a cold-spell mean it went down to fifty degrees at night. It’s been too many years since I was in San Francisco… and San Diego… and I’ve never even been to Los Angeles.
This is how to get through the Winter. Mind games. Daydreaming. Fantastical adventures plotted loosely out, maybe even a look-see on Expedia or Hotwire, even if you know it will never come to anything. Isn’t this how we all survive? Caviar dreams and a lust for the lottery – the Death of a Salesman suddenly not so far off. We try to be so vital to so many, and it’s so easy to fail. For now, though, everything is possible. We’ve already plunged through a full month of the season, and it would be foolish to give up after that. See this one through. Come Fall, we’ll talk again. We’ll dream again. We’ll make it all come true.
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