Boulderado adventures
Parties are SO fucking boring. I swear. Especially when there isn't even any free food. There was a SWP party after the last reading today at the Hotel Boulderado bar, but it was just people standing around, drinking, and talking! Or sitting at tables, drinking, and talking! Or at the bar drinking and talking? About nothing! Because who on earth can talk about something with so many people around, so congested. What the fuck? I wanted to just take some food from Amiri Baraka's plate, since he had this huge plate of food but wasn't eating any of it, made me think that maybe it was just a plate for everybody and he was just sitting there, but I was afraid because if it was his food, he would've totally kicked my ass, verbally. He's an intimidating little old guy.
I walked around the Boulderado a bit inside. It's a really creepy place, the hallways are slanted funny, they're really thin, and how the pipes hum. Somber saxophone music, you can hear it faintly throughout the hotel, and when you're walking and all of a sudden you're in a dead sound zone and can't hear it. It's supposed to be haunted. I explored some of the floors, the second and third, but didn't want to explore any more after that. I don't know, there was something about being alone there, and the thin hallways, antique Victorian designs, the oldness and richness and silence that was paralyzing, somehow. I wonder why? Probably because it's haunted. I'm most scared of mirrors in haunted places because I'm afraid there'll be something in the mirror that isn't in real life, or that my face will be somehow warped, either like in The Ring or else gone, or else black splotches all over or whatever. I'm freaking myself out imagining things right now.
I wish there had been someone else who looked as bored as I felt though! I would've explored the place more if I'd had a friend, but I guess it's for the better that I came home so I could get some sleep.
On the way back I ran into Ruthie, a girl who looks like a boy with really long thick straight black hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in awhile, who I met at the SWP who's a jerk, who I kind of like and wanted to be friends with, but when I asked "how've you liked the writing program?" on Friday in between lectures she just leaned back all annoyed, said in this superiorily frustrated, "I just can't deal with that shit any more...questions like that, you know? I just don't do them any more. Sorry." I responded that I felt the same, but wasn't aware if she had too so I asked anyway, and then just shut up and languidly fumed while she gathered up her stuff and left. She was on her bike tonight and seemed friendly, asked where the Boulderado was, and I was all cold and told her. She said she was glad to have met me at the Summer Writing Program, something like that, something about leaving soon, she seemed genuinely friendly and kind, sorry that she had to leave, and I waved and smiled and put on my distant air, said goodbye.
That jerk. I bet she would've explored the Boulderado with me though. Oh well, oh well. Potential friendship is so complicated.
I walked around the Boulderado a bit inside. It's a really creepy place, the hallways are slanted funny, they're really thin, and how the pipes hum. Somber saxophone music, you can hear it faintly throughout the hotel, and when you're walking and all of a sudden you're in a dead sound zone and can't hear it. It's supposed to be haunted. I explored some of the floors, the second and third, but didn't want to explore any more after that. I don't know, there was something about being alone there, and the thin hallways, antique Victorian designs, the oldness and richness and silence that was paralyzing, somehow. I wonder why? Probably because it's haunted. I'm most scared of mirrors in haunted places because I'm afraid there'll be something in the mirror that isn't in real life, or that my face will be somehow warped, either like in The Ring or else gone, or else black splotches all over or whatever. I'm freaking myself out imagining things right now.
I wish there had been someone else who looked as bored as I felt though! I would've explored the place more if I'd had a friend, but I guess it's for the better that I came home so I could get some sleep.
On the way back I ran into Ruthie, a girl who looks like a boy with really long thick straight black hair that looks like it hasn't been washed in awhile, who I met at the SWP who's a jerk, who I kind of like and wanted to be friends with, but when I asked "how've you liked the writing program?" on Friday in between lectures she just leaned back all annoyed, said in this superiorily frustrated, "I just can't deal with that shit any more...questions like that, you know? I just don't do them any more. Sorry." I responded that I felt the same, but wasn't aware if she had too so I asked anyway, and then just shut up and languidly fumed while she gathered up her stuff and left. She was on her bike tonight and seemed friendly, asked where the Boulderado was, and I was all cold and told her. She said she was glad to have met me at the Summer Writing Program, something like that, something about leaving soon, she seemed genuinely friendly and kind, sorry that she had to leave, and I waved and smiled and put on my distant air, said goodbye.
That jerk. I bet she would've explored the Boulderado with me though. Oh well, oh well. Potential friendship is so complicated.