As per previous post, I am in DC on business.
As per the title, I am still on California time.
I busted my ass today and my boss let me take the afternoon off. This is good, because I am completely wasted tired. No alcohol, just no sleep. Last night I lay in bed for about 6 hours not quite able to escape consciousness. I watched a reality tv show called HELL'S KITCHEN. It is about all of these up and coming cooks who have to survive underneath this drill sergeant asshole until there is only one standing. That last cook gets a restaurant to run and keep if they make it. The bleeping of profanity and the nonstop verbal abuse that this guy hurls at his victims was really over the top. These guys must really want the prize. I would think that if one of them broke rank and broke that fool's nose with the handle of a knife or grabbed him by the testicles and poured hot grease all over his genitalia, that the signing bonus for the tell-all novel could set them up with an even better restaurant at the end. I was reminded of my struggles in any given kitchen I have slaved in (the man owned them ALL).
I ironed my stuff, made my phonecalls, brushed the choppers and laid down. Nothing. I clicked the tv back on. I watched John Tucker Must Die through my ears and the odd open eye. That PG-13 teen sex comedy was the worst. I hate it in movies when someone says "It was just like in a movie, but real." It makes me want to jump into their real life and beat the hell out of them. I would explain to them with every cheap shot to the nose that their life is a movie and that this *crunch* is a special effect. I would like those two hours back please. I would like to simply exchange them for sleep.
I have been following the rules of travel. Well, the main rule of travel which is to KHTFO. Keep housekeeping the fok out. The second they come in here, they are going to ruin the atmosphere, the vibe, the ill-constructed zen balance of the place. I don't care if I am almost out of toilet tissue.
I am tired because my flight got in at about 11PM on Sunday night. A three hour difference from CA means that it was actually 9. So when I got to my hotel by midnight local time, I was really ready to eat dinner. I made the call and got my Szechuan on. I didn't crash until about two and had to be up by six and on the job for seven. That was yesterday. Completely wasted.
Today I took the subway back by myself (we roll as a team of ripe tourists, waiting for someone to please mug us in the AM). The ride back was really a lot of fun. I was alone with all of these people with all of their problems all within arms length. Breathing, perfuming and swaying bodies, forced together in a metal tube that moves at about 60 mph. All there because we chose to be. All waiting to get away from each other. It was poetry.
I saw a lot of really interesting graffiti. I will film some of it tomorrow on my way in and out. I am impressed by the DC hip-hop heads, they are keeping it real on the walls here.
All of the wires in the air around the metro stations; the cluster of lines and transformers and couplings. It is a spastic grid. I'll capture it tomorrow and post it here, because that too was poetry.
Enclosed are some pics. I'll break them down for you. This cellphone rules the wasteland. There are a lot more, and I will keep them coming.
Bachelor central. This is the bed. I don't make it. Housekeeping better not either. That is the suitcase on the floor. It is sort of a way station for clothes I haven't bothered to put away yet.
This is a shot over the bed at the desk. The desk is where it all goes down. I am there right now, typing this missive. Notice the cute flatscreen tv. I miss the PS2, but it wouldn't work on that thing.
Here is the bathroom sink. You probably can't see the peppering of shaved hairs covering the basin. They will stay, thankyouverymuch, until I leave.
Here is a closer shot of the desk. I am drinking water like a madman. Why? It is record breaking in the heat department this week. The sweltering heat and humidity leaves the edges of all that I see in the distance blurry. It is really quite beautiful It is something that all should see. The visual properties of things change when it gets this hot and humid. The pain that you feel on your head and in your armpits as they weep and mourn the loss of a manageable climate is a necessary evil. A rite of passage. A thing we should all experience, like having your heart broken.
I needed some toothpaste. Homeboy at the desk gave me a grab bag of all sorts of goodies. He then asked me if I needed razors. I declined, happy with the toothpaste. However, I started using this Speed Stick. It is weird, changing deodorants. Every time I lift my arm, I have a strange sensation that someone else is in the room. It is not my smell AT ALL. I wonder how often smell has dictated that sensation for me in the past?
Out my window. It was locked shut, but I popped it open with the quickness. The drop you see from my hand is about 12-15 feet.
Across the way out of my window. There is an Asian guy in that room and he paces back and forth late at night. I know this because he is essentially at the foot of my bed and I am having a hard time sleeping. I am sure he is blogging somewhere about the black guy who stares at him from his bed as he gets his pace on.
This is up above the Asian guy's room. It goes up 12 floors I think.
This is directly above my room. Surreal, que no? Totally boxed in.