Joy (cithra) wrote,

as usual

The minute I say I'm doing something, I find myself doing something else. No tornados after all, but grocery shopping, key collection, and wrestling with a recalcitrant writing project. Tis Potlatch this weekend, and I shall have houseguests. I have no idea what the schedule is like, yet.

I've this funny, odd claustrophobic feeling in my head when I think about the upcoming weekend, and I think I've finally figured it out. Last time I attended a convention in a smallish hotel in this particular part of town was a Rustycon circa 1985 or so. I stayed in a friend's camper with a couple three other cash-poor college folk.

I think the dark closed-in feeling comes from remembering staying up all hours of the night in those cramped confines, under the anemic light of the overhead bulb that never quite lit up the corners, small though the space may have been. It was one of those not-exactly-unpleasant, but yet not-terribly-pleasant-either situations, so the memories have a tang to them - like milk that hasn't quite gone off yet. And there it goes...

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