Hot February Morn

Sam woke me, I was very groggy. Big night, I could hear Shane saying. I could see sunshine and bright light. He bought Buddy upstairs. I could feel the heat of the day all ready and I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tossed and I turned, but no.

So Buddy, and I, headed down stairs.

I finished the coffee beans yesterday, so I have to go to the supermarket, before I do anything else. Bugger! I was still feeling some what bonged over, on just a slight tilt. The world was bright beyond the house. I still didn’t want to walk to the supermarket.

I rolled a joint and sat at the coffee table. Buddy was straight underneath and he was snoring in no time.

It was quite, but my ears might be blocked. Does the planet have that natural ringing sound?

I rolled another joint.

But I needed coffee, was strong enough to pick me up off the lounge room floor and propel me up the stairs to the shower. But I needed coffee was enough to dress my and propel me out the front door.


Oh Good, your talking to me again , if that is what it takes then ....

I was only attempting to protect the innocent from a mind filled with clutter. A(ntony)


11.07.

The world has been restored, I am sitting here with a cup of coffee by my side. I can’t tell you it was easy. A straight line was hard to work. I was hoping that the shadows would still be cool, but the sun had risen just a little too much in the sky.


I’d had 4 joints, by the time I went to Woolies. I’m not pretending that I didn’t find that difficult. Oops. Not so much against my capabilities, but way past my comfort level. It is all quite doable, in fact, it is kind of nice just floating along, the only thing you have to remember is to put one foot in front of the other, and look both ways, carefully.

Then you are right.

I tried to walk as close as I could to the fences. Come to think of it, that would have looked kinda mad, staggering just every so often.

My mouth went almost completely dry half way to Woolies. I wasn’t at all sure if I’d be able to speak, if required to do so. But the whole experience is surreal and funny and I giggled, at just the slightest thing, even a stumble could produce mirth.

Self service is a godsend. I press each button as carefully as I could. As long as I was careful, there would be no requirement to speak to anyone.


As I walked up the back stairs of Woolies, a handsome black man in a suit, stopped me and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but notice you are staggering a bit.” He smiled, his white teeth were dazzling, his eyes were big and brown. The sides of his eyes creased. He smiled. He did that short exhale thing. “A lot.” He tilted his head. “Are you okay?”

I turned to him and his earnest demeanour nearly set off a fresh round of giggles in me. I said. “I am staggering just a little.” I felt a chill run up my spine at how much I was sounding like Frank Thring.

“It is just that last week end, I was learning about the signs of strokes in people…:

“But.” My voice raised an octave. “I’m fine, I can assure you… thank you for asking, though.”

“Are you sure?”

I laughed at the ridiculousness at having to come clean to a total stranger about my bad behaviour. “I had a joint just before I left home… that is all.” I smiled.

There was a moments hesitation, as he digested the fact that what he was hearing was, actually, what I was actually saying. Then he smiled. “Well.” He smiled again, as if at the same ridiculousness of confession. “I’d be lucky to make it to the supermarket at all… if I’d had a joint.”

We both smiled. He was lovely. He kind of nodded. We kept walking in our opposite directions.

Just the one? I thought, as I walked away. He never would have even seen me stagger, if I’d had just the one.

The sun was hot. The shadows were now not long enough across the footpath, to shield my head from the sun. So I was even stooped, and cursing every time the already hot sun hit the crown of my head.

Terrace houses are always cooler inside.

The bulldog snores. The air is hot.

David rang me five joints in, lazing back on the couch, momentarily exhausted from a burst of creativity. He’s on an unnatural high, thanks to signing the lease to his latest cohabitation… and, then by natural extension, his immanent wedding.

“I’m fabulous, actually” I laughed. “I got a bag of pot.” I laughed again. “How are you?”

“OMG! That is never good,” said David. “Why?”

The rest of the conversation consisted of many giggles emanating from me. I gave into hopelessness, completely. The heaviness had swelled in my eyelids and I was rapidly heading towards not caring if I kept my eyes open, or not. That was the heaviness of the absurd that is the best part about being stoned.

Matt sends me a dance track, which seems kind of cool in the beginning, but at mid day on a stoner day, it just kind of felt interminable in the end, half way through.

By 1pm, it is time for a nap on the couch. 

But, I felt restless, like I should do something, for an hour at least each day.

I picked Amy Winehouse and lamented my loss of the main disk, only now having the bonus CD. And Luke took my Lionheart, which I must get back. Poor Amy should be better represented. I could at least fix that today.

I walked into Collins Place. Instead of lamenting the loss of Any Winehouse's Back to Black, I decided to go to the cheap CD shop and purchase a new copy. It was exercise, so I decided that I would just do it and not think any more about it. It is hot, over thirty. The sun burns down fierce and dry. I used to be able to walk to Collins Street in relative shade, but they have removed so many trees there are now huge sections where I am now subject to the burning sun. I was sweating profusely when I got back. Not to mention the CD shop has sold out of all Amy Winehouse. 

I came home and eat ice cream.