In trying to accommodate this issue’s “architectural” theme, as you know I have hatched the hair-brained scheme to live at the famous Chateau Marmont hotel for a few days. The initial purpose of this endeavor was to soak up the hotel’s vintage history, its French-inspired style, and to chew on the current brand of wildlife they house with pride. But, as the fan turns, the shit makes its way to it eventually. How naïve of me to imagine a dimension in which they would comp a room for a journalist (especially an unknown one) but they were willing to provide a private tour of the entire hotel by two of its managers. Quickly, and by no fault of their PR woman who has been more than gracious with me, the Hotel has been quick to brand my behind with a white-hot list of guidelines that I am legally obliged to follow.