The Seeker

A Meta-Cognitive Journal About Writing… Plus Other Stuff

Back to School– Day 11

with 2 comments

We’re about to turn over more than half the writers attending the institute.  Tomorrow will end the second week and thus the first session; those of us who are holding on for both sessions will dig in deeper here in the dorms and await the arrival of new writers and new friends.

Some folks are ready to leave.  Two weeks away from home is enough even in a luxury resort; it ain’t so glamorous here at Weicking Hall.  My friend is as ready to leave as anybody.  She’s from Brooklyn and commented to me yesterday that she misses her family the most, but also the hyperkineticism of the borough.  Oddly, she lamented missing the smell of piss on the subway and the plenitude of New York City swearing.  Always one to help out a friend, I offered for her to spend some time in Satan’s Porcelain Palace next door (see Day 8).  Said I’d hold the door open for her and spew a stream of profanity, Chicago-style.  What I had in mind was something like, “What the %$&* are you doing in my mother%$&*ing bathroom, $#!^&?  I swear to God I’ll kick somebody’s %&& if they don’t stop %$&*ing bumping in to me.  And you, $#!^&, I asked what the %$&* you doing over there?  $*&#.  Had me enough of this %$&*ing $*&#.”  That was just a rough draft.  I’m sure I could up my game if I shaped and polished it some more.

Me?  I miss my cat.

Welcome to Satan's Porcelain Palace. Notice if you "go towards the light," you're actually sinking deeper into this hell. Dante would love that.

How to Tell You’re Living in The Dorms

1.  You see lots of various grafitti, most of which is obscure but certainly insinuative.

It's not a real castle. I Googled it.

2.  Your neighbors have large caches of stuff lifted from dining service.  A few of my fellow writers have smuggled so much fruit that Cesar Chavez has contacted the dean of Skidmore about them.  I’ve kept my theft down to napkins and peanut butter, though there is a flash fryer back in the kitchen I’ve had my eye on.  I’ll have to find a way to get it up to my room in time for the Hot Wings Party I’ve been advertising.

3.  Don’t even think about a complete night’s sleep.  There’s no shortness of slamming doors or 2AM conversations down the hall.  I woke up at 3:13AM Saturday to the sound of someone wailing out a song while jamming on an acoustic guitar.

4.  Modesty?  What do you mean, modesty?  It’s a co-ed dorm.  If you haven’t seen your neighbors in their pajamas (or less), you haven’t been trying hard enough.

5.  You run across anonymous, unclaimed underwear in the laundry room.

Do these belong to a poet? A fiction writer? A non-fiction writer? Sounds like a great premise for a game show!

6.  You wonder how you’re going to get any work done with the constant flow of traffic in and around your door, your floor, and the hall in general.  Somebody is always doing something or stopping by.  How are you supposed to focus?  It was this very inability to focus and find a place to study that resulted in 6 of my closest neighbors and my roommate ending up on academic probation after the first semester at Ball State back in ’88.  I somehow found my focus, thus avoiding the dual falling axes:  the university’s, and my dad’s.

Working on my own writing has been the last thing I’ve done these past two weeks.  I’m going to have to refind that focus mojo.  It’s been gone so long I’m not sure where to look.

7.  Your neighbors have scarfed most of your food.  In this case, it’s those damn poets!  They strictly adhere to that Bohemian ideal of bare minimum existence.  They stow themselves away in tiny rooms with barely more than pencils and notebooks.  Knowledge and enlightenment are their sustenance, until about eleven o’clock each night.  And it’s just like your parents told you about stray animals around the neighborhood–once you feed them, they keep coming back.

8.  You use your fan to dry your clothes.  Hey–I ain’t too proud!

It was either this, or surrender them to the dryer and pull them out two sizes smaller.

9.  You find your neighbor washing his socks in the kitchen sink.  The poets, again.

Written by seeker70

July 14, 2011 at 5:00 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

2 Responses

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. Your cat? You miss your cat? How about missing the most important EVENT of the summer? The 2nd Annual Summer Pub Crawl (for anyone reading this comment) which is this Saturday, July 16, 2011 from Noon until ? Eight bars…great people…great fun. Interested? Email me

    I’m done hijacking your blog.


    Cory Fosco

    July 14, 2011 at 5:16 pm

    • Your license to hijack my blog is still in full standing, Cory. You’ve earned the priviledge. And please make sure that SOMEBODY finishes your pub crawl this year since I’m not going to be there to see to it myself. Good luck… I’m hating that I’ll be missing it.


      July 14, 2011 at 6:59 pm

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: