I'm listening to 80's music

I'd have to say that my favorite light is down by the beach. Specifically, the sunlight that peaks through periods of cloudiness, like today. I wish I could justify and explain why, but I don't really think I can. Anyhow, I realize that writing is probably one of my favorite things to do, so you just might be hearing more from me. 
        I just finished watching Adventureland and I quite enjoyed it. Any movie that can enjoy it's own company and jives with the music is a friend of mine. What does that mean? Muhurerh (that sound that means I don't know). I thought I'd share this passing mood of carefreeness that I'm so enjoying right now. I'm almost positive it's this light. I'll enjoy it while I can. I'd like to share a little thing I wrote back in argentina about this very curious hostel that I'll never forget.

        My backpack is heavy. Although I haven't weighed it, I'm confident it weighs over sixty pounds. Despite it's weight, I've been adamant about not taking taxis. One of my codes. I am eager to get off the streets though. Usually I don't mind walking, but this city has a certain eerie charmlessness and I've just finished a somewhat grueling bus ride. There it is. The hostel is painted baby blue and has giant block lettering on the side spelling out it's name. 

As I approach the building, the smell of gas suggests itself and becomes ever more present as I near the front door. The entrance is set in somewhat of an alcove, set back from the rubble-strewn street. There's a generous amount of unfinished construction jobs in this neighborhood. I enter the tunnel-like entryway and ring the doorbell. The door opens and I am immediately consumed by a warm cloud of pungent gas/air which rushes from the doorway. I am overwhelmed. After a few breaths, I eventually realize there is a man holding the door open for me. He ushers me into the stifling warmth of the lobby which smells strongly of gas. Or you could say the gas smelled faintly of air. There is a desk to my right and I sit across from the proprietor to sign in. The form is thorough, asking my country of birth, next destination and age. He guesses all them correctly with an appropriate amount of smugness. He gets up to lead me to my room. The lobby is small and narrow. Most of the light enters from the front window, leaving the kitchen in the back dimly lit by cold, florescent bulbs. The walls are painted a pepto bismol pink and adorned with strange framed pictures, the kind of pictures that don't really deserve frames. I follow the man up a flight of stairs to the rooms. I am shown to my room at the end of a short pink hallway. There are four beds in the form of bunk beds. The room is clean and I'm happy. I open the window for some air and receive a look from the man. I'm handed a key attached to a large wooden apple. Whatever. He leaves and I'm already face down on the bed. I decide it's time for a shower and whoa. This bathroom is blue. Not tinged, but inundated. Somehow this hotbox doesn't have hot water or any water pressure for that matter. I try the other bathroom. This one is as pink as the last one was blue. I have a sudden craving for cotton candy. Not really. The End.