One of my favorite places is hotel rooms, these empty boxes with a symbolic bed and desk and chair and whatever makes it looks like a room, when it’s actually never a room but just a temporary container for whatever mood that’s the fashion of the day. To go into a hotel room is like entering a neutral state, a place where I’m neither happy or unhappy. It’s just a vessel for the I and not the Me, because the Me is whatever everyone else thinks about me and the I is who I really am, without interference with someone or something else.
It’s like I’m entering this place filled with emotions and shit and crap and everything else in-between and leaves it clean and pure. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but I’m getting closer to what I truly am in this cloister cell because I can exist without pretending.
An hotel room is like a room directly taken from my Ideaspace, a place so generic and so whatever it’s doesn't offer any distractions. If I visualize, without putting so much attention to it, a hotel room in my mind this is what it is: a bed, a desk, a chair, a closet and the door into the bathroom. This is what a writer need and I am a writer.
My favorite pre-credit sequence as a kid was the one to The Ray Bradbury Theater, one of my favorite TV-productions (and authors of course), and the reason was that it began with the always elderly (was he ever young?) Bradbury sitting in his office, which probably was carefully designed set, packed with inspirational memorabilia; antiques, stuffed animals, strange boxes, weird art, old furniture and so on. It looks amazing, for you who haven’t seen it, and my dream was to have an office like that.
But something went wrong, or what I’m gonna call it, during the years, and I noticed that chaos around me just reflected some kind of depression. I still like a lot of stuff around me, but as long it had some kind of organized feeling to it and not the chaos I always visualized as a kid when hearing the sound of Ray Bradbury’s theater starting on the TV. When it came to writing I always felt that an empty room, or a room with as few distracting things as possible, was the best. Instead of inspiring stuff around me makes me confused, it makes me less focused, it just makes the paths in my mind go in even wider and fractured directions - which also causes my mood to drop and my creativity to be weaker.
So now I’m sitting here once again, at a low rent hotel somewhere in Sweden. The bed was better than usual but the room itself is quite uncomfortable in its colors and general interior design. I prefer it darker, less classroom-ish, with the desk set in front of the window so I can see the morning grow outside or the night lay its hands upon us the evening before. It’s a calming thing, to either see the world wake up or fall asleep, because it makes me feel all alone in the world, in a very pleasant way.
In a moment I will do my morning Tarot, then take a shower. Breakfast is waiting, colleagues is waiting. It’s time to be that responsible producer, it’s time to be that Me and not the I.
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