Open the ring and take one in and kiss them when you get them in

[sovay]

I aten't dead; I'm in Providence. I have been put up in a room at the Graduate (formerly and existentially still the Biltmore) that is spatially swanky and furnished in an extreme hipster style that at the moment I am finding congenial, if a little bewildering. There is a still life of donuts on the wall next to the walk-in closet. There is a portrait of a parakeet and a painting of a heroic football bronze on the far side of the couch. The living room light fixture resembles a giant clam shell. Actually I like that a lot. I wish the wallpaper with a pattern of bookshelves were real bookshelves; I could be reading Lovecraft and Caitlín right now. Getting to the train station this afternoon was an unexpected headache and the train itself turned out to contain a small child whose parents should really not have given it a noisemaking toy for the duration of the trip, but I was met at the station by Niels-Viggo Hobbs and I had dinner at Sura with Merlin Cunniff and afterward we caught a short film by Daphne Gem and Xander Marro, themed around the Victorian language of flowers, as the opening act of a show at the Dirt Palace; then I ran entirely out of stamina and Merlin saw me back to the hotel. I unpacked my clothes experimentally into the dresser, since I'll be here for five days. Tomorrow, NecronomiCon proper begins. So far it has been quite nice and I am not getting up in the morning until I have to.

Comments

[selkie]

What have they done to the Biltmore.

[sovay]

What have they done to the Biltmore.

The Art Deco and the hipster are fighting it out to the death. I'm honestly not sure who's going to win.

[selkie]

I want you to have a swanky stay in a posh hotel! But -- my dear! -- promise you'll check your trouser length. If you wake up and they've gone above your ankles, and all your socks are gone, run. Run before all your shirts turn plaid.

[sovay]

If you wake up and they've gone above your ankles, and all your socks are gone, run. Run before all your shirts turn plaid.

You won't see me for dust. I like my socks.