It hurts, it lingers

Exactly 6 months have passed since I, too, slept no more.

Realising that I will only ever once set foot in the smoky shadows of the Mckittrick is poetic, sure, but also ever so depressing; I only got to grasp a flicker of the sun.

Punchdrunk and the all-devouring magnetic stories they create, have changed the course of my life drastically, and have rekindled my passion for the creation of stories. I will never be the same. I am, truly, reborn.

Sleep No More,

Punchdrunk,

Thank you for everything. I love you.

May 20, 2024
I can’t express

If I could, I would tirelessly write a damn novel about what the McKittrick means to me. But all I have to say is this. Thank you for the tears, the laughter, the dark halls, the flashing strobe lights, the dust up on my forearm and between my fingers, the dances with a witch, the […]

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May 11, 2024
Still Not Sure

I still don’t know how I got home after Halloween in 2012. The pair of glasses I lost must have been a sacrifice to Hecate. But I know the hotel did help me find correspondence with Sondheim. And assist me in meeting, falling in love with, and proposing to my wife. So feel free to […]

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Apr 30, 2024
The Hotel knows.

The Hotel knows. Lavender scented breath is exhaled onto 27th. You are ushered into its darkened maw. For this edifice, another morsel, swollen with hubris of past experience. Crisp-edged Ace, deftly dealt – guarantor of swift passage through the carmine hued liminal space. Consumed quickly by the elevator, James doses you with familiar words, release […]

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I can’t express

Still Not Sure

The Hotel knows.