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,
Stay Safe
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