cimorene

i didn't realize it'd be like that. somehow it was really much worse than the last bowling alley i've been to.

the cosmic bowling in the third chapter of delirium is based on tuscaloosa's other bowling alley (yes, it is a two-bowling-alley town)--one

guinevere33 will recognize there because our 10th grade and 8th grade p.e. classes used to go there once a week, and we once got a girl scout badge partly for cosmic bowling.*

so tonight we go to the OTHER bowling alley.

first off, the reek. you can smell it before you've really stepped into the crack of the door, as soon as you pull the handle back. cigarette smoke, the stale kind.

the music was exactly what they played at my junior prom, only LOUDER**. that's spring 2000, people. we're talking 3LW's 'i do,' bloodhound gang's 'the bad touch,' eminem's 'the real slim shady,' and that awful discoey song about butterflies, and, mixed in, what was apparently the entire soundtrack of space jam***.

it was noisy, noisome, dark, and filled with half-overheard conversation. i just can't deal with this. it's overstimulation. i was trying to re-read fellowship at first, but i didn't even get through concerning hobbits before i had to devote myself full-time to pressing my hands and the collar of my sweater over my ears, meanwhile burying my face in it too. the smell wasn't really blocked and the noise wasn't blocked enough for comfort. soon enough i was huddling over my book on the table crying. finally i took refuge in the car. the remnants of the anxiety are still around. my stomach feels like shit.

*you think i'm making this up but i seriously am not.

**nope, not making that up either.

***featuring the inspired# rap song 'gettin' jiggy with it.' that's probably what em is talking about when he says 'will smith don't gotta cuss in his raps to sell records but i do.'

#ahah. ahahahah.