Thu, 19 May 2005

millstones
2004.

On the last night I worked at the graveyard I took the last of my LSD. I don’t know why I did this; I was saving it for a special occasion, but it seemed like I wouldn’t have any special occasions this year, so I thought I should make the most of my opportunity. By this time I worked three nights a week by myself, and this was one of those nights. I had one grave to dig, and after that I was night watchman until four am. I didn’t really want to run the backhoe while tripping, so I didn’t actually drop until the hole was dug, when all I had to do was clean up the sides a bit with my shovel, and after that I sat down and rested for a little while. When I climbed out of the hole I scared the holy hell out of a gaggle of drunk mall goths who ran as fast as their clunky platform boots would carry them. In reality, that’s where that confrontation ended, but in my head I thought about what I’d say if they actually stayed and talked, and so I walked around and kept an eye on things and went over the conversation in my head, and I realized I wasn’t actually talking to a gang of faceless teenagers, I was talking to you, and so I started embellishing things, adding in state department necromancers and giant speakers in the trees droning ghul-repelling harmonics, and I thought about heading across the street to call you from the payphone at the gas station, but it was two am and I knew you’d be long asleep and the charm of my late-night calls wore off nearly a decade ago, so instead I walked around for a couple more hours, stuck in my memory.
(12:24.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #