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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