Mrs Morrison's Hotel

The 100% personal official blog for Patricia Kennealy Morrison, author, Celtic priestess, retired rock critic, wife of Jim

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Location: New York, New York, United States

I was, wait, sorry, that's "David Copperfield". Anyway, I was born in Brooklyn, grew up on Long Island, went to school in upstate NY and came straight back to Manhattan to live. Never lived anywhere else. Never wanted to. Got a job as a rock journalist, in the course of which I met and married a rock star (yeah, yeah, conflict of interest, who cares). Became a priestess in a Celtic Pagan tradition, and (based on sheer longevity) one of the most senior Witches around. Began writing my Keltiad series. Wrote a memoir of my time with my beloved consort (Strange Days: My Life With and Without Jim Morrison). See Favorite Books below for a big announcement...The Rennie Stride Mysteries. "There is no trick or cunning, no art or recipe, by which you can have in your writing that which you do not possess in yourself." ---Walt Whitman (Also @ and

Saturday, January 05, 2008

A Winter's Tale

It has been absolutely FREEZING here for the last two nights. Well, actually, it left freezing behind about twenty degrees ago. And the wind was ferocious---I had to duct-tape plastic over the a/c window and hang blankets in front of the others. I like it cold, as you may know, but this was ridiculous.

Itemization of items on Patricia's bed:
regular sheets and five foam or down pillows;
flannel sheet;
four (4) homemade afghans ("affagans", as my grandma, who made them, called them);
sweatshirt-fleece St Bonaventure blanket;
big damask comforter and matching long shams filled with down pillows;
shearling coverlet (ten squares need replacing, must send back to place in Pennsylvania that made it, once cold weather is over);
Jim's shearling coat (now Turk's);
my big heavy pale gold fox coat (makes me look like a giant palomino-colored refrigerator when I wear it, but I don't care, it's WAAAAAAARM);
red fox coat given me by Kathleen Quinlan and used as throw on bed;
fox/mink/lynx throw;
I think that's about it.

Itemization of items on Patricia:
warm fuzzy nightgown;
dark purple cashmere socks;
sheepskin slippers from L.L. Bean's, best slippers in the world;
warm fuzzy pink dressing gown (makes me think of Hermione Granger's in HP&TSS);
big rectangular fox wrap sewn to chenille scarf.

Itemization of items in bed:
warm and nummy, Cadbury's Drinking Chocolate in oversized pottery cup with lizard on;
copy of "Ungrateful Dead";
copy of HP&TDH;
copy of "The Little White Horse" by Elizabeth Goudge (one of my alltime fave comfort reads);
laptop, for communication and as heating device;
copy of "Sister to the Rain" by Melisa Michaels (one of the funniest books I ever read, along with its predecessor "Cold Iron", both out of print, go find them on or in the modern world, and in a ROCK GROUP, absolutely hilarious, even if she does take a swipe at Jim);
beading board and assorted beads and tools---taking a leaf from Tansy Belladonna, I'm making some new necklaces (made FIVE: big rough ametrine chunks; egg-sized turquoise flat ovals; green pearls strung with a cream and green cameo of Dionysus, in I think bakelite; gold rutilated quartz; long bloodstone curved ones with a giant clear moss agate centerpiece);
there's probably more stuff around in the general vicinity, including stray beads that made a break for freedom, but I'm too tired to look.
Oh, and a little plate of butter cookies from the local bakery: apricot jam-filled crescents dipped in dark chocolate. So, crumbs.

It's warmer tonight, which means low 30's...positively balmy. So I took down the window plastic. But the rest stays.

I wish it would snow. We've had hardly any all winter so far, and now the sun is setting later, and already I feel the relentless creep of spring...nooooooooo! Not ready! Not enough winter!
I see where California is getting clobbered by two storms in succession: FIVE FEET OF SNOW in the High Sierra. I am sooooo envious.

Not writing at the moment. Spent the past week clearing out the place: gave two violins and a lap harp to the Third Street Music School Settlement (on Eleventh Street, of course). Tons of clothes to charity and tons of books to the Housing Works.

So I think I've earned the cocoa and cookies...

Oh, and just one thing: I've been getting emails on LJ and MySpace from people who claim to have read the blogs and my books as well, and STILL feel the need to ask "Is this really you, Patricia?"

Yeesh. Can't they kind of, you know, TELL? From the sheer crankiness as well as from the writing style and the advance book information and secret Jim things? If you don't believe it's really me, maybe you shouldn't be hanging around here.

Back to the cocoa. Go forth and do thou likewise. You know you want to!


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