My god; how can you sleep in a hostel and be so utterly pretentious?
As the summer draws to a close and the weather moves from scorching to freezing, the downtown area is filled up with hikers and tourists on their last trip before they head home. In a burst of insanity, it seems, I checked into a local hostel so see what fresh victims could be found.
To say the least, my weekend was crowded and disgustingly sweaty.
First of all, sleeping six to a room is uncomfortable and wearisome. Stuck in a room full of girls who are either shy and uncomfortable or won’t fucking shut up is a special level of hell I never thought I’d live in. Their ages ranged between barely legal and mid-thirties so the diversity was nice I suppose. Many different lives converging and all that; but I would not give up my privacy for all the victims in the world. And then, we sat around the breakfast table and swapped stories about our summer adventures.
The ego on some of these people.
“I hiked all the way up this mountain and then camped with a family of bears before hitchhiking my way through this area and that area, and oh have ever been to this site? Don’t, it’s rubbish.”
Their conversations alone would have made anyone turn to murder. As it was, I lasted Friday and Saturday night before I took the opportunity to strike out. I offered to show one of the loner girls around the town before she headed home. She was early-twenties, quiet, didn’t known anyone in town.
Too, too easy.
I sometimes worry that I’m setting the women’s movement back by discouraging young women to travel alone. I’d like to think I’d just as easily kill a young male traveller if he crossed my path. We’ll just have to test that theory.
Not at that hostel, though. Never again. I cannot stand the chatter and the crowds. Not in such a closed environment where everyone can notice everything.
I just can’t.
Not for a while anyway, I need some peace and quiet before I head back into the fray. Home is a nice place for that. It’s been quiet for a while. A nice way to close out the summer.
My god, where has the time gone? Seems like yesterday I was in Miami, seducing the pool boy and soaking in the sun.
Looking back on the past few updates, so much has happened and yet so little. Sometimes I seem to just…ramble about nothing.
I started this blog to document my life and my murders and while I still release all that energy on the page and on the streets, I find more comfort in releasing my fears and hopes in my personal life. Do you care about those things, dear readers? Am I writing this for my own amusement?
I wouldn’t care if I was, I could use some amusement but I’d like to know: is it all worth it?
As always, dear readers,