Greetings, my droogies. I write to you now via the blogger email portal,
on my trusty Treo 680. I’m lying in a terribly scuzzy (and yet still
pricey) Manhattan Day’s Inn. You know the type: stains on the wall, odd
characters in the hallway and the ubiquitous stink of pesticide.
There’s no internet access here, so those of you who have been fiercely
facebooking me will have to wait for your responses.
One of the joys of Manhattan is the plentiful food. Tonight I opted to
avoid the many pizza choices and instead bought a $6 salad from the grocery
store along with a $4 tank of iced green tea. If I’m going to suck back
insecticide, I may as well not compound matters by eating crap.
What to do tonight? Well, where better to start writing my next book than
in a stank hotel room in Manhattan?