Coming to You Live

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Coming to you live from a cheap motel in big, hot Babylon…

This is the first post I’ve written in a long time that went up as soon as I was finished writing it. Lately, I schedule posts when I’m done writing them, and you might not see a post until weeks after it is written.

I did something a little different this week. I needed to write part 2 of a two parter I’d started in April before I left the city. Whenever I tried to work on it in a coffee shop, I was too distracted, and I couldn’t seem to force myself to make any progress. So I decided this week on my days off, I would go to big, hot Babylon and splurge on a room at a Motel 6 with internet and finish the post. I met my goal; the post is done, along with seven others, all ready to come at you in the next few weeks.

It’s 6am now. I’d only planned to sleep for about six hours anyway, but I think I got less than that. There was a lot of noisy stomping, interspersed with some yelling, past my door last night. My room is on a corner, next to a staircase, so I guess many people walked by. You’d think folks would know that a person in a motel room might be trying to sleep in the middle of the night, but maybe I expect too much from people.

The Motel 6 is not bad. I got many good things for my money, including check-in before 8am (which means I’m getting 27 hours in the room), a flush toilet, running water to wash my hands, unlimited hot showers, cold air blowing from the A/C, a fast internet connection at no extra charge, electrical outlets, free coffee in the morning (I’m sipping from a cup now), a double bed, free ice.

It was still a sketchy cheap motel. I ventured out at dusk to get some ice. My room faces a sort of courtyard where the pool is. I had to walk down a long outdoor corridor, then descend a flight of outdoor stairs to get to the ice machine next to the office. There were a bunch of dudes milling around, in the swimming pool, hanging out on the balconies. Also, people had not only their curtains but the doors to their rooms open. In a past life on the streets, I learned that when you leave your cheap motel room door open, you are inviting others to come over to see what you have to offer, so you can see what others have to offer. I wasn’t afraid because none of these people look at me and think I have anything to offer them, or at least I hope not. I hope I don’t look like a mark. I’m going to keep on thinking I don’t, since none of the people out there (including the woman standing outside the office who was so pregnant she might have actually been in labor) tried to talk to me.

My ice mission was thwarted because there was no ice in the machine (probably because some butt wipe had taken everything to fill a cooler), so I went back to my room and didn’t poke my head out again until just before six this morning. As I was walking to the office to get coffee, I saw eight or ten empty Modelo cans lined up on the outdoor part of the A/C until a few doors down. There were already dudes milling around outside, and I witnessed paranoid peeping from the corner of a curtain in a room across the way. My door is locked, bolted, and latched, and I don’t plan to walk outside again until 10:58. (Check-out time is eleven o’clock.)

When I leave this motel, I have to do a load of laundry, then maybe take a look at the nearby Goodwill. From there I’ll make a quick stop at Stuff-Mart, then on to Trader Joe’s. Then I’ll head back up the mountain.

My plan is to get the supplies I need (butane for the stove, food for my belly, clean clothes) to last me two weeks and just stay up on the mountain. It’s too hot to sleep in my van in the flat lands, and the only thing I really like about Babylon if I’m not staying in a motel is internet access at coffee shops. So I might as well stay up where it’s cool and beautiful. (If there were a place to do my laundry on the mountain, I would stay up there for a month.)

I found out last week that my campground doesn’t officially close until the middle of October. Of course the actual closing of the campground depends on weather and all other acts of nature and humankind, but I’m planning on being up there until well into autumn. It’s good news in that it’s a steady pay check.

After that? Stay tuned.

About Blaize Sun

My name is Blaize Sun. Maybe that's the name my family gave me; maybe it's not. In any case, that's the name I'm using here and now. I've been a rubber tramp for nearly a decade.I like to see places I've never seen before, and I like to visit the places I love again and again. For most of my years on the road, my primary residence was my van. For almost half of the time I was a van dweller, I was going it alone. Now my (male) partner and I (a woman) have a travel trailer we can pull with our truck. We have a little piece of property, and when we're not traveling, we park our little camper there. I was a work camper in a remote National Forest recreation area on a mountain for four seasons. I was a camp host and parking lot attendant for two seasons and wrote a book about my experiences called Confessions of a Work Camper: Tales from the Woods. During the last two seasons as a work camper on that mountain, I was a clerk in a campground store. I'm also a house and pet sitter, and I pick up odd jobs when I can. I'm primarily a writer, but I also create beautiful little collages; hand make hemp jewelry and warm, colorful winter hats; and use my creative and artistic skills to decorate my life and brighten the lives of others. My goal (for my writing and my life) is to be real. I don't like fake, and I don't want to share fake. I want to share my authentic thoughts and feelings. I want to give others space and permission to share their authentic selves. Sometimes I think the best way to support others is to leave them alone and allow them to be. I am more than just a rubber tramp artist. I'm fat. I'm funny. I'm flawed. I try to be kind. I'm often grouchy. I am awed by the stars in the dark desert night. I hope my writing moves people. If my writing makes someone laugh or cry or feel angry or happy or troubled or comforted, I have done my job. If my writing makes someone think and question and try a little harder, I've done my job. If my writing opens a door for someone, changes a life, I have done my job well. I hope you enjoy my blog posts, my word and pictures, the work I've done to express myself in a way others will understand. I hope you appreciate the time and energy I put into each post. I hope you will click the like button each time you like what you have read. I hope you will share posts with the people in your life. I hope you'll leave a comment and share your authentic self with me and this blog's other readers. Thank you for reading.  A writer without readers is very sad indeed.

2 Responses »

  1. Ah…. Motel 6, my go-to place for overnight stays while I’m on the road without a home behind/with me. It’s been my go-to place for many years because I’ve always had pets and they are the only hotel/motel option that doesn’t charge for pets.

    I stayed in one last week on my way through No. Cal. – this one had something I’ve not seen at Motel 6 before: a 100% zero-tolerance quiet zone, meaning no noise AT ALL would be tolerated and I was instructed to call the front desk immediately if I heard a peep from anyone. It was awesome 😀

    Sounds like you had a nice stay and got some things done. Awesome! Feels good, doesn’t it?

    By the way, I tried finding Babylon, CA on Google maps and it doesn’t show any place called that. Is it really called Babylon or is that just what you call it? Just curious – if it has a T. Joe’s, it has to be fairly good-sized.

    • Zero Tolerance quiet zone sounds great! Was that in the whole Motel 6 or just in one wing? I’ve never heard of that before in a business of any kind, but have often thought it a good idea. I wish more places had that sort of set up. (Can we get that in a public library, PLEASE!?) I wonder what happens if someone does make noise in the quiet zone. I guess one couldn’t complain about getting kicked out if one made noise in what one knew was a no tolerance quiet zone.

      The name of the town is not really Babylon. It would be really funny if it were. I just don’t like broadcasting where I am on the internet. Although, I’m not totally undercover. I bet a detective with time and inclination could figure it out.

      Anyway, at Rainbow Gatherings, “Babylon” is what some folks call any civilization outside the woods. I’ve picked up the habit of using that term.

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