I don’t get any hotel death at home. I’ve become closer to my neighbors and people I pick to be with, not people I’m forced to be with. I don’t want to hear Bob’s stories from 1980 about some Pontiac he used to own and how fast he was and how cool he felt for 20hs a week because he can’t get a clue.

I get soul death being prisoner in a fluorescent tube jail that keeps me away from the sun all winter and barely lets me see it during the rest of the year.