hotel-song

Southwestern Gothic

- you’re on a lonely stretch of the freeway and running out of gas. you come up on a small town and exit. you spend an hour looking for a gas station. there are homes, a grocery store, a dentist, but no gas station.

- you’re ten miles out of a sizable town. you drive around a bend in the mountain and come upon a row of stalls. you walk up to one. behind a table covered in intricate beaded jewelry and beautiful stones sits a smiling Navajo woman. you comment on her work. she nods but doesn’t speak.

- you’re hiking. the sun is baking the back of your neck, and the ground beneath your feet slowly changes from brown to yellow to red and back again. you feel thirsty constantly, and every thirty or so feet a tower of perfectly stacked sandstone rocks tells you you’re going in the right direction.

- it’s night, and you’ve been dragged by your friends to a place the locals call “the narrows”, a slit in a canyon barely wide enough to walk through, horizontally. there’s a rock wall pressed to your back, sandstone beneath your cheek, and air leaving your lungs.
you look up at the sliver of black speckled sky and breath.

- you’ve been driving for three hours and have three to go. you don’t expect to see anything for miles, but you come up over a hill and out of nowhere a town appears. you pass old rusty trucks, a church with a crumbling marque, stores with broken windows, and houses with doors that move with the wind. a ghost town is being born.

- the air is hot, the skies are a stormy gray, and rain would feel cleansing to the dry ground beneath your feet. but it’s not going to rain. you know it’s not. To your west the mountain flickers red and orange, clouds rising from the wreckage into the swirling sky.

- you’re standing just in the shadow of a cliff, eyes glued to the structure in front of you. it’s a building, moulded like pottery from clay clinging to the cliff face. they’ve been her for centuries, weathering the desert, abandoned, and they still don’t know why.

- someone needs to pee. you all pile out of the car, and move the the edge of the road. you stare nervously at the sparse but paradoxically thick grass. Anything could be in there. gophers, lizards, crickets, rattlesnakes… you watch your friend anxiously as they step into the brush, then glance at your feet, praying you don’t learn what’s out there.

- it’s late, you’ve got fast food wrappers in your lap and the air outside is finally cooling. you’re driving out of the city, prepared for the next leg of your journey. you see a motel, the vacancy sign flickering, the song hotel california playing on the radio. you speed away.

- the air is different. you can feel the change in pressure. you watch the skies anxious, ready to smell the rain, and the desert when it rains. clouds roll in. the sky is black. but something is wrong. the air is too tense, charged, not rain you realize. lightning crashes on the mountains, thunder seconds behind, and the around you crackles.

- they call it goblin valley. hundreds of “hoodoos” cover the valley floor in different shapes and sizes. during the day it’s like a playground. but you came at night. it has one of the darkest night skies in the world. you stare up at hundreds of thousands of stars, but it always feels like there is someone watching you.

yo i hella want to do a mumu or a small rp (like 6x6) about a band going on its first tour ever like small venues and cheap hotels, but being so eager to finally be doing their thing for a living. parties on college campuses and sketchy bars after shows, staying up all night on their bus running on pure adrenaline from a hyped up crowd, singing along as the guitar player does acoustic versions of every song they grew up listening to. the crew being made up of friends they’ve known since high school and a couple people they met in college. the band being up and coming and going absolutely mental when they’re driving in the middle of nowhere and some random radio station in indiana plays their song on the radio for the first time ever. a manager who isn’t much older than the band members, laying their career on the line but not caring because they believe in this band wholeheartedly. the fearless photographer who can’t do the college thing to save their life, but is one hell of a shot with a good lens and low light. the stage manager who plays a parent role because they’re the only person holding these shows together. light & sound techs who are best buds and love playing pranks on stage manager just to get a reaction. the solo opening act who could do stand up comedy with the way they keep everyone laughing. the roadies who constantly hot box the entire fucking tour bus but always have grilled cheese ready when the band + crew get back. writing songs on hotel balconies and using sketchy hotel closets as makeshift recording studios. messy intercrew relationships and hateships. adventuring in famous cities and small towns on days off. working their asses off to get their career up and running. a band on the cusp of fame. i just!! want a really tight knit group who travel the country and make musical magic almost every night and yes ok pls lmk if this interests you