Back in the Saddle

Dear Readers,

A thousand million apologies for the dereliction of duty here at the Hotel Idiotica over the past few weeks. I know it's been slim pickin's as far as posts are concerned. Part of that is due to a yawn-inducing tale of intrigue and deception and one young person's quest for meaning that combines the absolute worst of Le Carre, Richard Bach, and Office Space. Also, there was something of a pregnancy scare. But all that in good time.

But the heart of the matter, and this is not very hard at all for me to say, is that I'm just not very dependable. And while it's true, and I hope this is the case with me, that artists are moody and temperamental and can't really be counted on, these qualities apply equally to malingers and general layabouts. Basically, I'm saying that this is the kind of behavior you should expect from a feckless human who refuses to bow before the twin idols of Morgan Stanley and Teach for America. And I'm not gonna apologize for it (except for the thousand million above). Basically, I occupy my time about as well as the United States occupies Iraq, and unfortunately I don't expect that to change until well into the next presidential term.

But that doesn't mean I can just pack up and go home. I'm here and I have a job to do. I have a mission to bring you all the banal zaniness that the Hotel Idiotica is known for. And can you imagine the carnage that would ensue if this blog were absent from your lives?

So we'll be coming at you, live, raw, and totally insensitively, building up to a BIG ANNOUNCEMENT in about two weeks. What could it be? More staff here at the Idioteque? The grand opening of the Idiexotica, the official brothel of the Hotel Idiotica? And how could I be pregnant? All will be revealed, TWO WEEKENDS post-hence. In the meantime, bite down on your pillows.