mariĥuano
Leah is away at a women's retreat in north New Jersey. I am home alone. Not alone, but I'm with the cats. Friday night was a bit rough because of a seed which was planted in my head. Second or third weekend of February Edna texts me out of the blue asking about the phrase "topping from the bottom". I wake up, find the text, then call her despite it being 11 p.m. or thereabouts. We talk, she brings up her polyamory group and its intersectionality with BDSM culture which is why she was pondering the phrase. I give my two cents and she mentions how after she hugged a friend-friend the thought of me readily came to mind which segued into "We should get together some time, like old times. Sit on the couch together, nap together, etc."
This has been a pebble in my shoe for a month.
Knowing I was going to be home alone this weekend, I was wondering about the possibilities of spending time with Edna. I phoned her on Friday afternoon, "Just called to say 'Hi'" was my only message. At home I paced, I became angry and frustrated projecting many things into the universe. I went to the Chinese buffet to self-medicate with food. When I returned, I brushed my teeth and smoked weed. I smoked to get high, and once I was high I started to smoke some more. As I described the feeling on Twitter, I was skimming the surface tension of an ocean of self-enlightenment which comes from tripping hard on mushrooms and, presumably, other entheogens. I could feel the weight of my body, meandered to the couch, and laid myself out like Ali laid out Joe Frazier in Manila.
In that delicious sub-waking state I felt dreams, I slept without fidgeting, and my mind began aural hallucinations. Edna was still on my mind. I kept chastizing myself for being such an idiot of being hooked on this woman who showed me the love I've been denied for decades and felt like a part of me and now she's withholding everything for whatever unscrutible redheaded reason.
I heard words which were a teardrop. A tear from heartwrenching weeping, and this vocalization was punctuated with my name.
And it was linked to Edna.
Here's the rub. April of 2017 after the end of tax season, Edna came to stay at the house and we got stoned in celebration and the commencement of our bookkeeping enterprise together. We each had an edible and we both agreed we felt a kind of telepathy between us.
Which makes me think that marijuana increases one's psychic capacity.
Or maybe I was just stoned off my ass and I want to feel good about it. But it doesn't change that Edna finally reached out to me, mind you it was over Facebook, and I am happily re-entering this limbo.
This has been a pebble in my shoe for a month.
Knowing I was going to be home alone this weekend, I was wondering about the possibilities of spending time with Edna. I phoned her on Friday afternoon, "Just called to say 'Hi'" was my only message. At home I paced, I became angry and frustrated projecting many things into the universe. I went to the Chinese buffet to self-medicate with food. When I returned, I brushed my teeth and smoked weed. I smoked to get high, and once I was high I started to smoke some more. As I described the feeling on Twitter, I was skimming the surface tension of an ocean of self-enlightenment which comes from tripping hard on mushrooms and, presumably, other entheogens. I could feel the weight of my body, meandered to the couch, and laid myself out like Ali laid out Joe Frazier in Manila.
In that delicious sub-waking state I felt dreams, I slept without fidgeting, and my mind began aural hallucinations. Edna was still on my mind. I kept chastizing myself for being such an idiot of being hooked on this woman who showed me the love I've been denied for decades and felt like a part of me and now she's withholding everything for whatever unscrutible redheaded reason.
I heard words which were a teardrop. A tear from heartwrenching weeping, and this vocalization was punctuated with my name.
And it was linked to Edna.
Here's the rub. April of 2017 after the end of tax season, Edna came to stay at the house and we got stoned in celebration and the commencement of our bookkeeping enterprise together. We each had an edible and we both agreed we felt a kind of telepathy between us.
Which makes me think that marijuana increases one's psychic capacity.
Or maybe I was just stoned off my ass and I want to feel good about it. But it doesn't change that Edna finally reached out to me, mind you it was over Facebook, and I am happily re-entering this limbo.