I used to smoke pot in high school and just after, back in the days when it was about a tenth as strong as it is now. I used to enjoy getting high and then sitting and listening to the world around me. I especially used to like listening to dogs barking far away.
I've tried it since, more recently, but it is way too strong now and I just end up feeling anxious and paranoid. And not just a little bit paranoid, but full-on, I should probably be in a padded room kind of paranoid. So I don't do it.
Oh well.
For me, it was just another Wednesday.
My sleep schedule is all messed up again, partly allergies, partly PMS. I couldn't sleep all night but I finally got some sleep in the late morning. That meant that I didn't do much in the afternoon. I'm so behind on my studying that I know I'm going to get slammed for finals next week. (Luckily, I also know how to mitigate that.)
In the late afternoon, I spoke with a few people about a few things. When Dave came home, we went out for pizza.
After dinner, Dave went with my brother to Walmart and I went up to my mother's place. She's been out of town (back tomorrow), so I've been keeping an eye on her apartment, picking up the mail and so on.
I had to pick up Dave from my brother's apartment after running my errand but I was a bit early, so I drove around awhile listening to music. I haven't done that in awhile.
We came home after and I started a homework assignment--my last this semester!--that's due on Thursday.
Here's a poem that I'm pretty sure I don't understand:
In the Corner of a Room Where You Would Never Look
by Mark Bibbins
Warhol was right: he said athletes are fat
in the right places
and they’re young
in the right places. Apparently
the next Godzilla movie has Godzilla
just stomping around eating everyone’s
money and it’s the scariest thing ever—
we can rub bug powder on the national
anthem and run that over the closing credits
as long as the singer manages to sing
I’m in love with everyone but you, almost
convincingly. A production team undoing
one another’s pants
is How We Get Naked Now but tomorrow
morning all the cut-off parts of us are coming
back so get ready. Europe: you swear it exists
because you once had sex in it, and ideas.
Prepositions: that’s where we all get sucked
under. Prepositions: the San Andreas
fault of meaning. Prepositions:
what came dislodged when our parents
hired operatives to kidnap us from cults
and deprogram us in the backs of vans.
Warhol was talking about the ass,
right, which we have come to understand
is the vessel of histories. That effect.
We put everything through
a translation engine
because we wanted to see the world.
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