Los Angeles Dispatch

The below happened at the Hollywood Roosevelt, but I think everyone should know that I’ve officially died and gone to hotel heaven, which for me means: Chateau Marmont.

I am reading Blackout: Remembering the Things I Drank to Forget, by Sarah Hepola, poolside around 4 PM.  Techno is booming.  A pale guy sitting on a lounge chair diagonally across the pool spots my book, and when he catches my glance, says sorry.

Pale Guy: We were just admiring your book!
Me: Oh.  Yeah.  It’s good!
Pale Guy: Is it a galley?
Me: Yep.  Are you in publishing?
Pale Guy: Nope.  But I am an alcoholic.

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