Emote

I remember a crappy hotel in Palm Springs almost a year ago. My friend Robert and I were staying on the first floor of the building, so instead of a balcony, we had an extremely small patio facing a wall that was about 5 feet high. Looking over the wall in the late hours of the night, we could see the parking lot of a neighboring hotel. It was brightly lit and totally empty. The medians in the lot were overflowing with grass and bushes.

Remember, this is Palm Springs. If it weren't for my fascination with these kinds of places, I’d have no choice but to call it a disgusting waste of resources. It’s the desert – the following day it would be 105 degrees. As you drive down the long and extremely wide boulevards you pass resort after resort, and every one of them seems to use water as a come-on. Extravagant displays of green landscaping and towering palms line the borders of these huge resorts. The few people you see walking down the enormous blocks are desert rats – the rich kind, but just as sun-fried and leathery as their trailer-living cousins.

But back to that parking lot by our hotel room, lit up at night. I tried to explain to Robert how amazing it looked to me. It was totally artificial and excessive. Lights beamed down on the empty spaces all night long. I don’t mean to make it sound uncommon, in fact that’s why I thought it was so amazing – it was totally common. These are public places, but also very private because there’s no one there.

Part of this comes from the fact that I’ve been living in substantial cities for the last 11 years. Space is precious to me (especially when I’m looking for a parking spot). Wide open suburban spaces tend to spook me a little now.

I also feel like these spaces are a little haunted. How many people have been through them? And now there’s nothing.

An extra little thrill hits me when I think about potential – like it’s haunted by things that have yet to happen, sizzling with static. When I looked out at that lot in Palm Springs, I got goosebumps. No kidding.

I get this feeling in a lot of places. I remember driving around the vacant roads of the San Fernando Valley doing midnight deliveries as a Production Assistant, empty movie theaters in the middle of the day, parking garages in the middle of the night that would be full by 9 the next morning, amusement parks right before they close, casinos in the wee hours...

This emotion, which I’ve done a pretty crappy job of explaining, is often one of things I try to get into my music. Sometimes it’s the only thing. You probably have the same expression Robert had on his face when I told him about it.