I am in a hotel in Marshall, Texas, now, and I do not think there is anything better than being by yourself in a hotel room in a strange town where you don't know anyone and aren't going to be staying long.

Two of the best days I ever had were in hotel rooms. When I was about 18 I started taking the Greyhound bus on long trips, back when you could travel anywhere in the country for $68. Once I took it from Pennsylvania to San Francisco, and stopped for a night in Denver. 100% because of Jack Kerouac. Anyway, I stayed in this rundown old man hotel downtown and was just there for one day, and I thought it was sheer bliss, a feeling of complete freedom, and I wandered around the city all afternoon and actually ended up having this amazing one night affair with this beautiful boy who was painting a railing near my hotel. We talked for hours and hours and he tried to convince me to stay in Denver and I said no. I think the next year I took the bus from Pennsylvania to Olympia, Washington, and stayed for a night in Billings, Montana. I almost didn't stop because I had spent two days on the bus talking to this really cool old man who lived in Juneau and loved Herman Hesse (which I did, back then) and said things like he didn't believe in evil because there is no such thing as a negative apple. But I stopped anyway and it was Valentine's Day and I wandered around Billings a bit, but the city was covered in snow and ice and no one was around and so I just went to my hotel room and lay on the bed and watched movies and ordered in pizza and it was the best day ever. The end.