014 ☼ Motel Chronicles

Shedding light in a vortex somewhere in Sedona

I once orgasmed in a vortex. I couldn’t tell you what a vortex is but there are three of them in Sedona, Arizona or so say the mystical forums of the internet. I watched a hawk circle me while it happened, my ass pushed up against rocks. A tourist helicopter flew overhead while I pulled up my pants. I'm convinced my body only releases in places it deems worthy; a somatic pretension. Is the energy weird in Sedona because everyone says it is? If I’m standing in a vortex and I don’t feel it, is it still a vortex? Are my crystals receiving energy? Am I unfolding to the promises of the universe properly? Maybe it’s all the bad vibes caught in a psychic net, trapped in the crystal stores helmed by older white women in Polar fleece.

N was on his phone the entire time at the Chapel of the Holy Cross. He'd sent me a map link while I was asleep the morning prior so I put it on our list and drove us there. Way too many people for a pandemic. I found a corner to the south and watched the sun set; that was my version of taking a phone call, of an outside preoccupation. A bumper sticker: Don’t bother me, I’m busy: I’m watching the sunset. My Other Car is a Shooting Star.We vaped in a lot of picturesque places. I tried to engineer our sight-seeing to locations where we didn't have phone service so we could “stay in the present,” but it was hard. I kept taking pictures, he kept making phone calls.

One of those Zoltar-style animatronic fortune teller boxes labeled "Sedona Sam" spit out a yellow paper fortune while N managed a work problem over the phone. He was like a Dad constantly checking his beeper at dinner making promising eye contact and holding my hand while I waited for him to hang up. I spun circles in the parking lot with my little yellow ticket.

On the outdoor restaurant balcony, we saw a twinkle: someone beamed light from an impossibly high butte some 20 miles from us. It was a clean blue light, blinking from the dark indigo outline of the butte while the sun set beyond it. Twilight and the sound of wind. “Should we send for help?” a woman said from her restaurant chair. She laughed, “Anyone know Morse Code?” Ha ha ha. I felt we were either witnessing alien life or an emergency. Stunned but marveling from a safe distance. How'd they get up there?

Earlier in the day, the Bureau of Land Management in Utah discovered a mysterious 12-foot chrome monolith in Red Rock Canyon. “Should we go see it?” N asked. “It’ll be trashed or gone by the time we get there,” I said, which ended up being true. Too many people for the middle of nowhere. The monolith was obnoxious the way Banksy was obnoxious: cool in concept but a gimmick once revealed. The monolith was déclassé. The monolith was full of shit. But now with the flashing light on the butte, the monolith, and Sedona Sam selling me on romance (or friendship??), magic was easier to believe in. N read my fortune to himself while holding my hand to his chin. Big love or big friendship, no clear indication. Sedona made me feel fucking weird either way.

Later we asked the concierge if we could have a room with a hot tub and/or a fireplace, please? I know we used the Priceline deal that allowed the hotel to give us whatever room they had at a comparable price because we're broke and young and going nowhere so why not? We begged like demons with toothy grins: depending on mood or circumstance we each did our best to charm the workers pushing the buttons for us behind the desk for better rooms, discounts, and free stuff. N didn't think she heard us so he kept whispering in my ear to ask her again while she pretended not to hear us. She heard us. We got the jacuzzi and the fireplace, early retirement with smoky mirrors. The cheap honeymoon aesthetics of the hotel made for incongruous vibes. The tub wasn't even big enough for both of us, narrow and Etruscan in depth. Beige plastic lit by a tapered candle from the thrift store. We took turns eating licorice in the jacuzzi tub. We got into a huge fight the next day. Sedona Sam was full of shit.

No review or recommendations this newsletter, just vibes. ☼ I know you don’t think of me as much anymore but I wish the distance made you feel differently. I know you don’t read these. Which lamp was burning? Is it burning now? Write back soon or at all? xxo