Agoraphobia and Guitars

I live in an old brick building in Seattle. It was built in 1889, of Japanese brick. The city of Seattle had recently burned clean to the ground, and there were not enough domestic bricks available to rebuild the now wood-shy town. My building was built as a hotel, and began its life housing would-be miners heading to the Klondike gold fields, sailors, lumberjacks and prostitutes. As far as I know, it went downhill from there, and today the Diller Hotel remains home to an ever-changing assortment of fascinating characters. Artists, prostitutes, tech workers, people who puke in the laundry room - they all live more or less harmoniously within the earthquake-addled walls of this place.