Outside and sitting on the back deck already hot cross-legged. Forward chest, deep breaths and closed eyes, hands on my thighs like sieves. Boards of splintered wooden currents and streams laid underneath me as I teetered between thinking and trying not to focus on my painful buttocks.
Spend most of my day sitting. Writing, playing video games, praying, riding a bike, and taking the bus. Shitting.
Enough already. Stood up. Went inside and to the galley to ingest five dried grams of mushrooms.
I don't remember the last time I removed sandwiches from a zip-lock bag. The golden capped, blue and white stemmed fruit lay in the bottom inert but dense with inter-dimensional wisdom. Or, you know. It's a poisonous fungus.
Either way, they smelled like dead leaves and tasted like tree bark, eons old. I sat on the circular table beside the west window, eating slowly. Flowers and pollen. Wind through an autumn grove. Had tried the first day, a week ago, just a few small doses and the psychoactive effects were highly manageable. Rode my bike thirty miles that day.
Changing a routine, for me, means no sleep the first night. Too much anticipation and coffee, with no chiefing or drinking to cheat insomnia. So I paced around, found an unread Travis McGee novel in my laundry basket, laid down my body on the fold-out couchbed.
Cracked that paperback open at midnight and didn't change position for seven hours by lamplight. Took a nap until eight and continued reading all morning.
At the last line of The Turquoise Lament I gasped, tossed the book in the trash by accident, tripped forward from bed onto knees and hands, thrashed the bundled pages out of miscellaneous shreds and clasped it, smacked it atop a stack of more books -- couldn't tell you the title of any except that one, the only one I'd finished.
I patted the turquoise book lightly, staring off. Got dressed in silence.
It was the first book in the series to have an epilogue, and it served only as an after-the-credits where our hero Travis loses the girl after all. As he always does through will or woe. Didn't have the next book, so I checked the lists on my desk.
There was only one. Nice.
My brother had returned in the early morning and still slept, so I crept from the building, carrying car keys.