Pink

Color: Pink

Category: Hallucinogens

100. The crew is so anti-establishment that they trip on 4/20.When did the stoner holiday become mainstream?

99. 10 pm. The jackals scraw & creech at the thick-wooden door of my apartment. I watch them from far-behind the peephole too close and they would see the shadow of my (third) eye

98. Polytheleeus, Cincinnatus, Athena (plus all the other fucking demi gods), and Ovid enter the dorm room with the smelly kitchen

97. Pink poesy-pictured blotter paper pushed past liPs. Pineal pumping papillae.

96. 25 minutes in and nothing, “Does this shit even work, bruh” Grumpy says to the group

95. Nervously trying not to go full schizophrenia. This experience was slowly marching forward whether I liked it or not.

94. Invocation of the Mo: Lukey, don’t worry. When in doubt remember the college mid-life crisis. We decided the only solution was to do all of the drugs. Just try not to die before you graduate and we’re good. You bought the ticket, enjoy the ride.

93. We pass the time libidinally invested in watching cops. Grumpy grouches, “I don’t feel anything bruh”. “Shut your salty mouth” I think “just let your back slump and watch 12 arrest this alligator. It will come when it wants to.”

92. An invasive species turns my brain into a bog, not one you would want to walk through in sandals. First the snakes come, then the iguanas (they’re chill). Best to avoid the crocodiles. “Just trying to trim the grass” I tell myself.

91. “It’s a hallucinogen first and foremost” polytheleeus says to me, passing the bong. “Don’t forget to look at things”, advice from a wise man. I’ll just have to keep my eyes open.

90. The bong bubbles and I watch the light navigate twists and turns through the blinds and into the shower’s mist. All while remembering to not move my lips from the mouthpiece.

66. it’s dark outside and I have a hammock wrapped around my neck. I’ll have to remember to undo it before trying to tie it to two trees.

65. My back on the wet grass in the field would normally bother me, but right now I just want to be close to the condensation.

64. “It’s a hallucinogen first and foremost” he repeats.

63. I stare at the trees, the branches are V’s all of them. Every branch is a V. “What does it say about me, that all I can see are vaginas every time I look at a tree?” Mother Nature got me fucked up, but Auntie Moon whispers in my ear something about her craters and I can’t help but feel better.

62. 13 days 16 hours and 37 seconds since I’ve written anything.

61. It’s hard not to feel like you’re swallowing seawater because you were thrown off the boat long ago, and you were all like, “fuck those guys, I’ll just let the tide take me in.” But you can only tread water for so long before you start to slide into the watery abyss where your corpse is feasted upon by sharks. O, fucking Phoenician.

60. At a 45 degree ankle above our heads is a bridge and under the bridge there is a waterfall. It slushes pink water into the bank below. The two of us are crouched down, I don’t know where the rest of the group went I can’t even be sure they were ever with us. It’s a cheap beach-head, plastic bottles are spewn on the ground. Mother Nature has been raped by humanity, but try not to think about it, these thoughts can spiral when your mind is in a state like it is now.

59. “LSD makes it so that I don’t feel temperature” he says wearing flip flops in the wet sand. It is pretty chilly outside and I’m wearing much more clothing than Polytheleeus is”. Athena takes his hand to get him some real shoes. They are going to go have sex, fuck, I can’t worry about being a third wheel while I’m tripping.

58. Alone

57. I put my bare-ass on every stone-bench that hugs the trail to Reynolda Village. The last one is a doozy, lower than the rest. My balls like the cold and damp stone less than my ass does.

56. When I make it back to my apartment Cincinnatus and Grumpy are listening to Pink Floyd. Ovid is staring at the Fear and Loathing poster. He’s been like this for two hours now, everything in the poster starts to move if you stare long enough to really see it.

55. “Fuck. I’m never going to be able to get any sleep bruh” it’s hard to tune out Grumpy when you’re so tuned into the universe. I ignore him nonetheless.

54. “We’ll take turns drawing the bong. That’ll surely keep us grounded”

89. We stand up from the lawn chairs in the bathroom, it smells dank. Maybe we aren’t that anti-establishment after all.

88. “Spray Febreze bruh” Grumpy grizzles. I whisper in polytheleeus’s ear “I’m gonna snap his fucking neck and drink all of his spinal fluid.” “You could use some after all that we’ve lost during the years” he retorts.

87. We leave. His negative behavior runs the risk of causing a full psychotic break.

86. They scout a table above the quad to watch the drunk people in dresses and suits go to parties. I diverge. I have some serious academic-life shit to figure out after all.

85. Tribble. The side door locks, but if you hit the handicap button it opens anyway, we have the disabled to thank for this epiphenous moment of self-discovery.

84. The door to my British Fiction class is locked

83. The door to my poetry class is locked

82. The door to my Joyce class is locked

81. Tribble A207 is open. The central table is an obelisk. It’s pitch-black except for the steam rising from below the basement. I want to discover its source, but I’m afraid of basements. Not a good basement to explore

80. I sit in the chair I always sit in, and put my forehead on the grey table. Tabletop designs: intricacy for people to not look at. The grey dots in obelisk are like grains on the beach

79. I stare at my wrists for fifteen minutes

78. The painting behind me can’t help but look at my meltdown. I see the disjointed fragments of her face, you can only see them if you look close enough. From afar it just looks a portrait of a girl with some dreads. She is the protector of the file cabinet that she towers above. She tells me she has to protect the document. I tell her that nobody has come for the documents in years and she can let go. She doesn’t have to do it anymore.

77. Mo: Fuck school, it’s not for us. It never will be. Remember back to all those times you tried. Didn’t work out like you thought you would. You’re not dumb but if you give them a good enough view into your head they’re going to institutionalize you. Just imagine the SWAT team coming for you in the middle of class. “GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND! We have your computer! We read all of your files! You sick fuck! They’ll say that while pistol-whipping your teeth out. You can’t explain to them that it’s just creative writing and that you didn’t mean anything by it when your jaw is broken. They kill people like you if they don’t have enough evidence to lock you up. They don’t even have to tell anyone, it’s nothing to cover that shit up. Never forget how much it hurts to fail. Your life is a comma splice, remember? How are you going to get an A on a paper when you can’t even put two independent clauses together the right way? Yeah, semi-colons are so fucking conformist dude, see if the chair of the department is persuaded by that argument as he grades your paper while you are behind Plexiglas windows in a drab-green jumpsuit breathing stale air for the rest of your life. Don’t forget the last time you cared, do you remember that. We were just freshmen then you were afraid you were going to fail everything. All that Adderall made you want to kill yourself, remember? You cried for twelve hours like a little bitch, and then you were too afraid to tell anyone that anything was wrong. You were pathetic so afraid of all those people that you thought you would barf on the first one who spoke to you. But you couldn’t be by yourself, remember? Free Bird was about death, Ronnie Van Zandt told you to kill yourself, you still can’t listen to that song. “Fuck” I breathe the sound through interlaced fingers.

76. I think that I will use my phone to time how long I pee every time I have to go, so when people tell me about the important things they do I can tell them, that I peed for ninety-seven seconds on Tuesday.

75. The hallway is oscillating horizontally and vertically like a rubicks cube. I hold on to the white painted brick-wall to avoid falling overboard. The waves are getting bigger now. I can’t tell if the noises I make are mine or someone else’s. I leave terrified and sprint until I feel the cool night air in my lungs. It sometimes smells like cigarettes after it rains.

74. Cincinnatus, Grumpy, and Ovid and grumpy are sitting in the chairs with the long backs, its 3am in Tribble on a Monday. Time to leave before someone sees us and calls the police. A bunch of drug freaks shouldn’t be in an academic building at this hour.

73. Cincinnatus rides his bike, I sit on the handlebars

39. Lawn poles with yellow string attached protect the baby grass herding undergrads like cattle. People who walk in packs of three are impossible to pass.

52. One of the posters in my apartment has fallen down on one corner, I’ve been too lazy to fix it.

71. I am the barrier that protects the bicyclist from the wind, he’s going too fast because he wants to bother me. I don’t care, he needs me because he can’t see where he’s going. (wall of rocks)

38. I untie the knots that tie the yellow corridor together, soon enough I’ve untied all of the cord and the yellow strings are on the sidewalks. The poles are no longer Curtins (shouts out to Stevinus), but untethered erections

51. I put my knees on the bed pushing the poster putty into the sloppily painted dry-wall. I push my thumbs into the top-right corner until they turn completely white from pressure. I lean back at the waist staring into the eyes of the baby from the Ready to Die album. A real masterpiece, left to fall apart as a poster on some white-college kids wall

70. The handlebars. My thorax is the rock-wall that partitions the ocean. Blocking the big waves from hitting the shore. I could never tell if those rock-walls were man-made or not.

37. I slowly work the garden stake. Moving front to back and then in a clockwise direction. I pull up, taking the stake with me, it cuts my index finger. One down, thirty-seven more poles to go.

50. Mid-stare, the right corner of the poster falls down again. It doesn’t pull the whole thing down, just a big enough section to obscure the cross-legged baby

69. “Left. Right. Left again” I scream over my right shoulder to the cyclist. There are no obstacles in our way, I just wanted to swerve

36. I stomp on a green stake bending it at the root

68. When I was younger I put a deck of cards in the spokes of my blue huffy bike, the one that had a bobcat on the plastic cover of a foam roller in between the handlebars. That would have been helpful now, my butt is starting to hurt from sitting on the front of this bike.

35. I flee the scene with a four foot long green and white pole in my left hand dragging it behind me. It will live in our apartment as a trophy.

67. This bike is way more serious than my Huffy was, different gears and two brake pedals. A deck of Bicycle cards would just make it look flimsy even if it did make a cool sound.

34. I’m faced with the realization that my resistance is a petty one and some over-worked and surely underpaid person is going to have to wake up early to clean up my mess. There are tours tomorrow, there’s no way they will let prospective students see this mess

30. 4am, Polytheleeus, Athena, and I are laying under a tree I’m staring at the branches. Athena is on a swing, she has a rule that you cannot be unhappy on a swing. “I’m gonna tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before ”Polytheleeus says to me. I ponder whether if you tell something to yourself it’s considered telling someone. Can someone tell your secrets by reading your face? “I’m afraid of the dark.”He says “Oh shit, me too. I used to sleep with all the lights on.” “What happened”, “I became the darkness” I say in a low voice, but I let out a high pitched chuckle before I can finish. “We have to get you over this fear. We are going to the beach”

29. We walk through the trails to the sacred ganja spot. I consider for the first time that walking to the beach may be the epitome of my college experience, I’ve spent more time there than anywhere else.

28. They walk through the dried up river. I opt to walk across the fallen tree that bisects the mud banks of the dusty streambed

27. I see the face of Zig-zag man with the crazy beard in the dirt. Someone has littered the foil container of a blunt wrap long ago

26. I step off the trail

25. I first met god in the trees, she was everywhere, I was standing in a triangle path, the V’s in the trees were all around me, and it became impossible not to notice

24. I perch myself in the large tree with the sloping branches and watch the litter below. Forgotten potato chip bags and foil juice pouches

23. In the winter this spot becomes bare and attracts attention. In the spring the growth begins and it is nestled far away from the trail protecting the stoners from the joggers and ROTC kids

22. Athena is afraid of snakes, she is seriously freaking

21. Mother Moon

20. Leeus is interviewing a slug on a tree. “What do you think about consciousness loops” he points the invisible microphone at the slug, “what are your opinions about quantum mechanics?” “Is there life on other planets?”, “Oh I forgot you’re just a slug, you don’t have opinions”, “DONT talk to Jeff like that!” I want to scream but speak quietly.

19. Jeff the slug inches through my hands leaving behind a slimy trail on the prints of my fingertips

18. Two green chairs are facing each other

17. I sit in one and Polytheleeus sits in the other. “Well this is it” I say realizing that we have become what we have feared the most, the forest people who walk aimlessly through the woods at weird hours of the night. We have turned from afraid, to the beings to be afraid of, I’m certain that if somebody saw us they would think we are going to murder them, and maybe we would. It’s impossible to tell with these things

16. “I guess this makes me Cranly and you Stephen” he says to me Christly.

15. The green plastic chairs were smuggled in here, they had to have been. They have left imprints in the soft mud from many afternoon bong-sessions and beach-digressions

1.  With our backs on the field a liminal space between the fine arts building and chemistry building as if the two could be any more disparate

2. “Mr. Sun is coming” Polytheleeus shouts in a high pitch. I shiver, it’s fucking cold. I haven’t had sleep in forty hours at this point I can’t tell if I’m tripping on LSD or exhaustion

3. “Mr. Sun is never late for work. He’s got a wife and fucking kids to feed. They rely on him”

4. I stare up at the blank space still seeable before Mr. Sun finishes his commute. I put my arms out and the abyss stares back at me

5. Gravity. This big ball is keeping me from falling through space into the everything. We could be upside down and not even know it. Gravity could stop and my corpse would be flung through space brittle and fragile from absolute zero

6. Pink clouds

7. I see one line of clouds, perfectly arranged. One side is clear and the other is cloudy along this meridian.

8. Another cloud is a hand. It’s the hand of God pulling back the curtain of clouds and letting in the pink sky

9. The disembodied cloud-hand gives me the finger. Thanks god. Asshole

10. I piss on a piece of modern art in the field before tredging to ten hours of well-deserved sleep

By | 2018-05-22T10:35:01+00:00 March 30th, 2018|Writing|0 Comments

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