...a Carpeted Hallway in a Madison

The Best Western is a comfortable enough place to be ill. Soft sheets, cable television (no Comedy Central somehow...) and free breakfast (not that I woke up anywhere near early enough to partake). I spent most of the day in bed avoiding the daylight behind the curtains. The room stayed in twilight till about 2 in the afternoon when I finally left for a bit of air and a bite to eat.

I walked to the Panera to get a salad for lunch. For some reason, I donned a Scottish accent when the lady asked me what I wanted. It's my way of not dealing with people when I'm not in the mood. I pretend I have a much better goal in life at the moment, an import Scottish goal that I will be dealing with just as soon as I pick up my salad and leave this place. I don't obviously, so when I leave I walk along the road for 25 minutes aimlessly.

This floor is a dreadful deep green with a pattern of dirty red and yellow flowers streaking down the hallway. I wonder who chooses these patterns? It makes me think of Casinos--how they purposefully design the places, the lighting, the music, whatever, just to put people in a gambling state of mind. What then is this dreary pattern meant to pull me towards? Suicide? I guess not... it's really just peculiar enough to notice but not special enough to remember. It's background... or I suppose... just ground.

Hotels are fascinating places. No matter what, they have this fantastical element to them. To some, they are an escape, to others, a chore, and yet there are still others who come to work at hotels everyday.

I wonder what it's like to be one of the million hotel staff that work every day in this country. I suppose I could imagine working at the front desk. It's not dissimilar to my work at the restaurant... greeting people, dealing with their arrival, their needs. Fine. I could perhaps see myself as a busboy. But only for the stories... I imagine that busboys have the advantage of really seeing the hidden world of these places... they know the regulars, they know who takes towels, who doesn't tip... busboys learn how to size up other people fairly readily. Then, of course, we have the housekeepers. This is a job beyond my own imagination. I can't believe anybody would choose to do such a job. I understand the propensity towards keeping your area clean, I live with Kat Barnes... this goes without saying, but I don't understand how you could make a living cleaning up other peoples messes for a living. Part of the joy of living is making messes, and it makes cleaning a little less strenuous... knowing that at least it was fun at the time, it was worth the repair. I understand that people need to scratch out a living, and there are far worse ways to earn a living... I would just never choose to be a housekeeper.

I've made a small mountain out of balled up tissues on my nightstand... Mt.Killamanslowly. It hurts less to cough tonight than it did this morning, but i don't see much hope for improvement very soon.

Side note, I've figured out the source material for my upcoming project which is exciting. I'll slowly be telling the relevant parties, but I won't be going public with it until the project is in some sort of viable stage. This is both for reasons of keeping it secure, also avoiding any potential legal issues before securing the rights, and also to ensure the creative integrity of the process. Sorry guys, but you'll just have to find out with everyone else. If you're involved in the project, though, you'll be informed when we meet.

That's all for now.