Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Let Them Bleat Cake

I snuck into the attic tonight. It was quite thrilling.

For those of you who are just now tuning in, I live in a big artist's community that used to be a retirement home. It's a fairly creepy building and they keep the attic locked at all times. When I was moving in, the door to it was left open when I walked past it at one point, but I was too chicken to go up there alone. I'd be lying if I said I haven't been curious about it, though. I mean, it's the attic of an ancient building that is a little reminiscent of "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest." Of course I wanted to see what was up there.

So tonight, when the second floor hipster crowd was walking around the third floor (where I live) looking for secret doors, I gladly showed them the door to the attic.

It was locked, naturally. Luckily, this guy who just moved here from New Jersey was with us. He knew how to pick the lock with a screwdriver. He did it a little too effortlessly, then just kind of shrugged and said, "Hey, I'm from New Jersey."

While Mr. New Jersey was picking the lock, Theater Lover and The Poet walked by and became instantly intrigued by what we were doing. A couple of other people heard us and came out of their rooms to see what was going on. By the time the attic door was open, there was a good group of almost ten people anxious to go inside.

Among those people was the really pretty guy who is potentially a gay porn star. Oh man, he's all kinds of gorgeous. I need to find out if he's actually gay or if he just has impeccable fashion sense. I should also find out if he's actually a porn star or if I just interpreted a conversation wrong. I think I'll be moving that investigation up farther on my priority list.

Anyway, back to the adventure of the evening. It was a pretty great attic - really big, dark, wooden, and creepy. Going up there with all of those people felt like the beginning of a horror film. Fortunately, no one died that I'm aware of. I really want to make a horror film up there, though. Or at least light a bunch of candles and have a poetry slam while sitting cross-legged on the floor. Now that sounds like a good way to burn the place down.

When we were done exploring, we went back into the third floor kitchen to tell Purple Hair and Mr. Syracuse that we had been in the attic. I expected them to be impressed and maybe even a little jealous, but it turns out they had already been up there. The nerve.

Everyone was in a much better mood tonight than last night. The vibe was really off last night. I blame it on the horrific community meeting that took place in the kitchen. It started out as thirty people bitching about things that aren't really that important and slowly evolved into being a meeting about how to have a meeting. It went on for two hours and I kinda felt like walking over to the oven and sticking my head in it.

Afterwards, I ventured into the second floor kitchen. The atmosphere down there is totally different than the cheery, welcoming sanctuary of the third floor kitchen. I've gotten into the habit of referring to the second floor as "Hipsterville." Their kitchen feels like a break room and lacks personality. I've recently befriended a few more of the hipsters down there though. They invited me to come down for dinner. As much as I love my hippy friends, I figure I should at least attempt to hang out with people my age.

It was a good time. And by that, I mean I'm not really sure if I had fun or not. Everything that people cooked was vegan and fairly weird. There was a ton of alcohol but no one really wanted to share with anyone else (this probably isn't that unusual, but I've gotten used to everyone drinking everyone else's wine in the third floor kitchen). There wasn't a ton of conversation, but it was completely acceptable and even expected to mouth the words along to Radiohead songs being played from a MacBook in the corner.

Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little bit. It was definitely a hipster scene, but I did have a good time. Well, I had a good time until Tweaked Out Elvis Costello showed up and spontaneously threw cake against the wall. I think he might have even said something like "LET THEM BLEAT CAKE! BAH!" It was funny, but that was definitely the moment when the party started to go downhill.

The Poet came in the room when Tweaked Out Elvis Costello was attempting to scrub cake off of the radiator. The meeting from earlier came up, specifically the topic of performance spaces in the building. It's petty, political, and probably not the interesting. Though it is an issue that I do have an opinion on and it does affect me, I'll avoid going into it at this time. All you really need to know is that the night ended with The Poet and Tweaked Out Elvis Costello yelling profanities at each other.

There are very few things that I hate more than yelling. Plus, Tweaked Out Elvis Costello was saying some stuff that was making me angry. It wasn't directed towards me, but some of his "The show in the kitchen was terrible" and "There aren't any good bands in this building" comments were making me feel a little attacked. So I awkwardly excused myself from the room and ran to the safety of the third floor kitchen, where I made a giant cup of Moroccan mint tea in attempts to calm myself down.

Gotta love commune drama. Gah. Most of the time, this place is a bohemian paradise. But every once in awhile, I swear there are cameras hidden somewhere and we're all on reality TV.

And with that, I should go to bed.

Goodnight, amigos. More stories to come, I am sure.


  1. I laughed out loud at your gay porn star comment! And it must be so neat to be able to explore that old building! This past summer my uncle was between houses for about a month, and rented this FABULOUS tiny cottage that attached to a big barn at a bed and breakfast. One day he opened up a door in the kitchen that looked like a closet, and it actually led to the barn, where the owner kept 16 beautiful antique cars! Millions of dollars worth of cars, and he didn't even keep the door locked!

    And I'm sorry about Elvis Costello. :-(

  2. Young Elvis Costello keeps on showing his true colours, eh? Too bad - in the beginning he seemed to have some potential - now he's just a sad and angry hipster.

    Are the kitchens the only common spaces? You don't have a communal living room type place?

    Love these stories - keep them coming :)

  3. I would love to see pictures of all these colorful characters, especially potential gay porn star and young Elvis Costello.

  4. "I should also find out if he's actually a porn star or if I just interpreted a conversation wrong. " Bwahaha!! Classic ;) I want to know:

    - what was the conversation about?
    - Is he a pornstar??!


  5. * I don't *want* people to shout at him, that should have read. I was that upset.

  6. Elvis Costello sounds like a complete nutjob. And I like Old Hippy Poet, I don't people to shout at him.

    Seriously, I need to know more about what happened at the meeting. I'm addicted to this. It's like a soap opera. I wish I was joking, but I'm not. FEED MY ADDICTION WITH MORE COMMUNE GOSSIP!

  7. Lauren - you probably shouldn't take photos of these people and post them on the internet - seems wrong. I kinda like visualizing them on my own anyways. I'm with TbR - these stories are great (but he knows he's privy to extra TASG stories via email...one of the perks to our little group.)

  8. DUDE.

    I want to live in a fucking commune. Where do these places exist!?

  9. Laura Darling - 16 antique cars hiding behind an unlocked closet door? It doesn't get much cooler than that! Exploring the attic was fun but all we found was a cabinet full of dead light fixtures and some old paperwork.

    Allison - Yeah, Young Elvis Costello is losing points with me on a daily basis. I just had a really weird encounter with him in the kitchen in which he said something along the lines of "I didn't know you were going to be in here, if I had known that I wouldn't have come in here." Then he made some bizarre comment about how my face was expressing a lot of emotion and left to go drink coffee in Old Hippy Poet's room (they are friends again). Hipster boys are duuuuuumb. Expect an email later. Haha.
    And right now, yes, the kitchen is the only real common space. The other spaces are still under construction or owned by the restaurant downstairs. It's all a bit controversial.

    Jay - I think Allison's got a good point - putting pictures of these people up here would be over the top. I already feel a little bad writing about them all the time. So I'll just let you imagine them. Thanks for reading, though. :)

    Lady Noix De Coco - I asked him what he does for a living, he said he's an actor, I asked how that's going, he smirked and said "Oh, you know, it pays the bills." That sounds like such a porn star thing to say. He also said a couple of pretty gay sounding things over the course of the conversation that led me to believe he's not that straight. Will keep you updated on his gay pornstar status as I find out more.

    TbR - Hehe. Perhaps I will write an entire post on the specifics of the commune drama. Or maybe I will just type it up and send it to you and Allison. It's pretty petty stuff.

    Matt - They exist in a magical place called Portland, Oregon, my friend!

  10. You're kidding me. I have plans to move there in 2012. Brilliant.

  11. I probably would have punched out Tweaked Out Elvis Costello. But that's just because I totally don't like bashing. Hitting is so much more civilized.


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