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Nutshell Kingdom: A Big Fan of Pretend Experiences
2007
Walking between buildings yesterday at work, I noticed a large shadow pass over the ground in front of me, like an enormous bird - or perhaps a demon. I add that, because looking up, there was nothing in the sky. A quick glance at the magnificent turrets of the National Cathedral, I thought I saw some of the gargoyles and grostesques shifting back into position. Also, I had had lately, a vague feeling of being watched. Nervously, I fingered the small vial of graveyard dirt and beeswax i keep in breast pocket of my sportcoat and hurry back insider to the relative safety of my cubicle.
Maybe my feeling had basis in fact. However, I'm not crazy. I imagine that this is the product of my latest project, which is to survive the increasing drain of the workweek by pretending to be on LSD.
Washington, DC and its outlying suburbs is not exactly an acid-type place. I wouldn't know where to get a hit if I tried. We are a practical and ambitious town and more inclined to binge drinking late night shots with stupid double-entendre names than dropping acid. Plus, I'm older now and watching my grandparents' health decline at a dizzying pace has stemmed my self-desctuctive urges somewhat. Thirdly, if I pretend to take acid, rather than actually doing so, I get all the full effects of a dose and still can be asleep at a reasonable hour.
Oh I am a big fan of pretend experiences.
At work the day just eases by. I put on my headphones and an Espers CD and the my spreadsheets all but come alive. Sometimes, I am preparing a mailing to go out and I will find myself just staring at a random name in our database, looking at the address and finding myself perfectly able to conceptualize that location in time and space. It's like I can actually go to Cape Cod or Brentwood, TN.
Of course, by lunch my jaw has clenched upso tight that I can barely eat. And now there are demon gargoyles haunting my every step when I leave the building. And I worry if the light from the copier is burning secret messages onto my eyelids, encrypted Episcopal dogma like a timestamp on my cerebral cortex.
Yeah, I guess I should quit pretending to do drugs at work. I never thought about like this before. Thanks for listening. You really helped me work this out. You're a good friend.
