Sunday, April 03, 2005


I just purchased the latest CD by Moby, entitled "Hotel". In the liner notes, he explains why he entitled the album this way: "Hotels fascinate me in that they're incredibly intimate spaces that are scoured every 24 hours and made to look completely anonymous. People sleep in hotel rooms and cry in hotel rooms and bathe in hotel rooms and have sex in hotel rooms and start relationships in hotel rooms and end relationships in hotel rooms and etc and etc, but yet every time we check into a hotel room we feel as if we're the first guest...we enter a hotel room and it becomes our biological home for a while and the we leave. In some ways it's similar to the human condition. We exist and we strive and we love and we cry and we laugh and we run around and we sleep as we build things and we have sex and then we die and, not to sound too depressing, the world is wiped clean of our biological presence." He's right, you know. This life is only a hotel. But one day, I'm going home.


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