christ666's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A questionable narrator I opened the curtains to the luminous gray of the Seattle skyline. As I peered through my hotel room's opened patio door and stared out to the buildings beyond, I sensed a tremulous fear rising within my gut at all who could witness my impending crime. But it had been so long, so long indeed since the last imbibing. My cohort for the trip had carried the goods, tucked in a particularly well decorated brown box with a hand painted lily on one corner of the lid. The box itself was enveloped in a red shroud of velvet, as if presented as a gift to royalty. It was a very ceremonial event for something so mundane and illegal. But I wanted it. Needed it. For no other purpose than to experience... a life I ignored for too long. The streets down below were full of lively pedestrians and anxious traffic. Rooms among the other structures were opened, revealing all those who could peer within. But I greeted them with a faux sense of rebellion as she pulled out her pipe, swirls of green in the translucent glass. I sat on the carpet eagerly awaiting. I watched her as she unfolded the red shroud, and immediately the aroma permeated the room, saturating into the fabrics of the linens and wallpaper. I hadn't remembered it being so strong before, and I wouldn't have recognized it had it not been for a stereotypical cloud that would hang over a swell of fans at an outdoor festival. She removed the lid and I saw the wounderous clumps of emerald, one of nature's greatest gifts. My heart was racing with anticipation. I'm staring at a felony... no way this is a misdemeanor amount. The weight had to have been grams over the legal limit. I must smoke this quick, I thought. Her elegant fingers reached into the box and pinched a decent clump and placed it in the bowl of the paraphernalia. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, blue BIC lighter. She handed the contents of her hands to me in offering saying, "The first hit is the most potent." With trembling hands, I took my long awaited moment into my hands and placed the glass to my lips. I ran my thumb along the wheel of the lighter and conjured a wicked orange flame, which I then held over the pungent contents. With a strong inhale, I watched as pure white sifted through the shaft and disappeared behind my upper lip. The fire was turning the green into embers and charing the surface with a well deserved black. After my lung capacity felt satiated, I held my prize for a few seconds, before blowing a delayed cloud out of my mouth. I did so with careful concentration, so as to not cause a sensitive coughing fit. I handed the piece back to the cohort and she accepted graciously. The sensation of it entering my lungs didn't feel as I had remembered. It was as though the nerves in my trachea were supremely hightened to increase any sensation to the maximum level, one which made me feel uncomfortable. But I didn't waste time on the second hit, one that I felt more comfortable about and in turn put me through a lapse of air stability. As I hacked the rest of the smoke out, waiting for the fire to escape my chest... my eyes began to water and the scenery began to shift. The high was kicking in... and I thought I was ready for it. Strange though... how heavy my head was feeling. Really.... really heavy. She was done after her second hit, which I pitied for some reason. I thought she must not enjoy a full vice's temptation. So I kept the rest for myself. Smoking... smoking... I wasn't burning anything anymore, to which she said that the bowl was done. Accomplished, I thought. My vision rotated clockwise and reset itself in quick succession, like my brain and eyes were being shaking in concentrated rhythm. The floor was a magnet, and my head was made of steel, but I resisted the urge. I stood up to change my shirt as we prepared to venture into the unknown. I walked across the room and stared into the city as I buttoned my shirt, counting the beats of my heart... which were fast. And moving faster. What the fuck?.... This is strange. My heart was racing faster than when awaiting the effects of the green prism. I could hear the beats in my head... tribal, it sounded. Pacing to an unspeakable rhythm.... ye Gods! I pulled out my phone an searched through my apps. My eyes could not concentrate from the god damn influence, until finally I found my stopwatch. The sequence of zeroes filled my touchscreen and I immediately put my fingers to my carotid artery, and pressed start. Fuckballs.... I was already at 25 at ten seconds. More... more beats... I couldn't keep up... When I surpassed the minute mark, I counted well over 130. This wasn't right.... it's supposed to soothe you right? I felt it in my chest now, pressure bouncing opposite my sternum. If I hadn't known any better, I was expecting my heart to burst through my chest wall and bounce around the room like some miniaturized dodgeball. Faster still!... I was dying. I was picturing all the heart rhythms I had ever seen in life, movies, television... and imagined the worst of them in my own fucking body. I sat on the edge of the bed, breathing slowly. In and out. In and out.... I could hear her voice, "Ready to go?" "Something's wrong", I said. "My heart's beating too fast. Way too fucking fast." "Don't worry about it." Don't worry about it? I had never experienced a feeling like this! My brain was aswim... rushing through the rapids of some violent river... dizzy. Heart still racing. Fuck... what's gonna happen. "Lie down, if you need to," she said. "This isn't right." I look up and am amazed at what I find. My friend had no longer appeared what I remembered her as. She was cool, calm, collect. As if her mind and spirit had taken a vacation, and had instead been replaced by Samuel L. Jackson. She was a smooth mother fucker. Had this transformation happened in the bathroom? She sat with her legs crossed, leaning back against the wall, one arm resting on the side of a chair, playing with her smart phone. Her eyes were half open and a smile was on her face. "You're being paranoid", she said. "It's not paranoia. I know I'm gonna be fine... I just... this has never happened. I'm not doing okay." "Sounds like you're being paranoid." "I'm not paranoid!" I tried lying down, but my mind was still speeding through a violent tunnel with no sign of slowing. And the spinning! Blast the spinning! I was going to fall off the bed. My breathing wasn't helping, but I suppose Lamaze was better meant for childbirth. I was so entrapt by the violent turn of events that I didn't even notice my friend's ninja like reflexes in leaving and returning with a glass of tap water. Still and placid, it stared back at me from the glass... mocking. Laughing at my face. You pitiful shit... can't even handle a bowl o' weed... you pussy. NOOOOO!!, I will not be bested by liquid! "Okay", I said. "Let's go." "You sure?" "Yeah... I think I just need to... walk around. That'll help." "Okay." She still had that smile on her face. I had summoned the powers of Hiro Nakamura and mastered the art of space and time manipulation, because no sooner did I say let's go did I find myself in the elevator already on the first floor. How did we get here? I thought. I was just in the room. Traveling had apparently happened in segments, much like my speech. Sentences had formed, but I forgot their purpose quickly and therefore left them unfinished. Daylight... clouds... We were on the street. And it was cruel indeed. I was not ready for the sky... it was far too big. The buildings... far too tall. They would step on me, for true. It was only a matter of time. Walking followed. I stepped in the exact same footsteps as her so as to not disrupt the fabric of cohesion. She said something. I didn't hear. She repeated. "Muffin store?" "Okay." I looked up and saw the outline of a quaint little shop, adorned with pictures of muffins. It was across the street however, and I wasn't sure how I felt about getting to the other side. But before I knew it, she was opening the door for me, and I saw the bran and carbs behind the glass. I stared at the floor which looked wooden. It made have been tile, but my focus was worthless. She looked back at me. "What do you want?" She asked. "Nothing." "What?" "Nothing." "Why did we come in here?" "Cuz you said, 'Muffin Shop?'" She laughed at this, amused at the mess trailing her. She looked for a few seconds longer and opted out of the treats. Following her out, we continued to follow the sidewalks adjacent to the terrifying traffic. Walking was not helping... outside was not working. It was hurting. It was worse... Heart beat still pounding, speeding like the drums to a Ramones song. We found a pizza joint unlike any I had ever seen before. We agreed to give it a try. Walking through the entrance, we are greeted by the hostess who is eyeing me. I could feel her judgement... calling me a hipster with her eyes... hipster with your ironic fashion and cynical judgement. She seats us and asks about beverages and I immediately ask for water. Cottonmouth setting in... dry as a troll's scrotum. I'm wary of the couple seated next to us. Like a soldier in Viet Cong territory, I'm awaiting the sudden pounce, the ambush by Charlie with their pointing and laughing. And that's when I have a thought... and breakdown. Guffawing away, she looks at me with wonderment. I can't breathe between the laughing and I feel tears rolling down my cheeks. After finally finding pauses to gasp, I tell her. "I was just thinking..." I start, "... I thought... this feels awful... this isn't good. This is what meningitis feels like!" She bursts into laughter and we continue for a few minutes. "I keep thinking... I know it's going to be okay... but my heart is giving me meningitis!" The laughing becomes unstoppable as I ramble about my concerns contradicting my cool. The irony of tachycardia of excitement and the tachycardia of utter doom. The green that was to be my gem, turned into the green that was my kryptonite! This goes on for well over ten minutes before we order pizza, a red potato and sausage for me, and basil and tomato for her. An amazing meal. I devoured the plate laid before me and finished multiple waters. My mind was still crazed, and my heart was still beating. I wasn't sure what would happen next, but I was in no shape to continue in a position of comfort. I was high as a mother fucker, and paranoid beyond belief. "Do you wanna go back to the hotel?" she asked. I gave this some thought, and carefully laid out my options. After careful consideration, I retorted... "The realist inside me wants to lie down and wait this fuckery out... but the idealist inside... wants to continue on this adventure." It was decided. We would make our way to the mall in downtown, one that wasn't too far a distance. I didn't have much cash on me, hoping to save out for gas and food on the way home, so I was just out for the experience... traveling the city under complete mania. The streets still moved with a vigilant menace, but I felt a little braver about the situation. My heart felt a little calmer, but my senses and fear were on edge. Fear of what? I wasn't sure. I wasn't afraid of being arrested, and there were no villains in sight. Before too long, we had made it in the large center of commerce where my greatest challenge faced me. After eyeing chocolates and sweets at the Godiva shop, we made our way to some sort of novelty shop that was beyond imagination. There were trinkets and baubles hanging from the ceiling, small toy animals displayed in mass quantity, and illuminating pens and jewelry everywhere. Every color of light was displayed in magnificence and I still don't understand what the store's motif was. With the shine and shimmer and color all around me, I wasn't in a store... I was in a fucking kaleidoscope. "I can't be in here. This place is evil." She did not take me seriously. She giggled as she continued to window shop. The strange and peculiar all around me, I was unsettled. I walked through an open archway and found myself in some clothing store... as if the two shared a wormhole between universes. A women said hello behind the cashier. "Hello" I said back, wanting to tell her I was on drugs. High. Hiiiiiiiigh..... Before long, we left. And it was here that the story ends.... getting lost in the streets of Seattle, the insanity faded away in time for a delicious italian cuisine and the meeting of a dear friend. But I never forgot the bane of my ego... that devilish plant for which all fantasies come to life. The natural, earth giving plant whose coumpounds made you feel the effects of meningitis. Fascinating. 4:46 a.m. - 2011-11-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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