Slow news day.

So, I have really been shitting the bed on this blog lately, and I apologize. My hate mail has tripled in the past two weeks, people demanding their money back and some even offering me money if I just stop ejaculating this crap on the tits of the internet.

Well, I refuse to cease. As a writer, and a badass, I know that sometimes you must fight through the shit to get to the toilet paper. So here goes.

Since nothing super awesome has happened recently, I have decided to regale you with a tale of yesteryear, when I was younger, dumber and equally handsome. This tale is set in the late 1990's, a time before the internet, cell phones, or that little ring contraceptive device that no one told me about, until I encountered it in the field (that's another story for later, when the kids go to bed).

I was a lad of no more than 19 or 20 years, cocksure and abound with potential and angst. Things were hard for me at this time, working 3 jobs, going to school, and trying to balance a budding alcholic habit with the trials of a newly independent life. It was a fun time, though, and many exciting things were happening to me.

This story is not about any of them, unfortunately. This story is about the time I decided to take 2 geltabs of LSD and go about my day, just to see what a normal day in the life of a Daub would be like while hallucinating and sweating profusely. I remember it as if it was filmed and the footage was recorded on my DNA, a sort of inherited memory that came from an ancestor. I cannot recount the entire 16 hour adventure in this limited tome, but this I think is the most salient and interesting of the experiences (a close second was fucking the blonde hippie girl that lived in the dorms downstairs from me, her name was an "A" name... Anne? I dunno, she was clean for a hippie and had blonde pubic hair, a novelty for sure, though any pubic hair on chicks nowadays is a novelty. Not all change is bad.

I had just left my symbolic logic class, my mind blown away by the concept of changing life into math. It is a fairly "out there" concept even when sober, but we do it on a daily basis, and don't even know it, though most people cheat and have beliefs that are the logical equivalent of 2+4=7. I was leaving the Hellems building and was walking toward the UMC, my eyes shifting under my sunglasses, taking in an incalculable amount of stimuli. I remember thinking that most of our lives we were tripping on something and acid was the antidote, everything seemed so much more real to me, I could see the way the world really was, I realized that day that I was God, I determined reality, my perception was truth, my truth, and in that way I was divine. In the 100 or so feet to the UMC, I also wrote the entire plot and premise of the movie "Tank Girl," as well as finally figured out why rich Dads always have hot daughters (that mental debacle had been plaguing me years, and the answer was so simple).

At this point, I am, of course, just standing stupidly, staring off into space, people milling around me, unaware that the slightest nudge could send me into a rant about the apocalypse building in my mind.

That's when Kelly happened by. Kelly was this cute Japanese Lacrosse player that I met...somewhere, I went to some sorority party with her because she hated all the girls in the thing (her mother had been a DG, so she was supposed to be, that dinner is another nail biting tail, maybe later) and she wanted someone to have fun with. Awesome girl.

"Daub, what's up? What're you doing?" she said.

I remember thinking that I was imagining things, I didn't expect to see anyone I knew, and i was about 3 hour deep in chemical inebriation. The idea that there was a girl's voice in my head was not too hard to fathom. Kelly was pretty short, and I thought she was an elf or some sort of cartoon character, it took me a while to recognize her, but my clouded synapses, running at the speed of light, so quickly that thoughts were thought and forgotten in milliseconds, finally recognized her face and set into motion...a reaction.

"Kelly, I'm glad I ran into you, I need you to hold onto this until tomorrow," I handed her the pen I had in my hand, she took the pen, I didn't see her face I was staring at her feet for some reason, and I walked past her, confident that my actions were justified and completely suited to the encounter.

"Uh, thanks...I guess, are you ok?" she asked.

I had almost escaped, I turned around. Now I wondered why I had wanted to get away so badly, now I wanted to stay, "Hey let's go get a beer," I said.

"I have class," she said.

"So do I," my drug addled memory somehow yanked a fact from the aether, I always passed Kelly at this time, I knew where she was going, "besides, isn't you class that stupid writing class you hate so much? What do you call it? Writing for retards...or..."

She smile, "Basic concepts of essay writing."

"Yeah, fuck it, let's go. I'll teach you everything you need to know about writing an essay. And Step one is beer, or maybe vodka. You may not be ready for the advanced concepts, but I think you'll get a hold of it pretty quick. Besides if you don't come with me, you could get hit by a bus, well you could get hit by a bus either way, but would you rather your last moments on earth be with me and some alcohol, or a bunch of idiots trying to form a coherent thought in written form without colloquialisms."

"I don't have a fake ID."

" I know where we can go. Come on, you owe me for that fucking sorority dance."

"You had fun, you just won't admit it."

"That is a lie, come on, let's go."

She looked at me strangely then, her tiny asian face seemed so far away from my lofty corn fed height, and for just a second I thought she could read my mind, so I stopped thinking about her naked and, grasping at any other thought that I could formulate, I settled on wiener dogs, they’re like little people. People that eat their own poo. If she could read my mind, well I’d be ok. If she did not have that power I would also enjoy thinking about tiny hotdog shaped dogs. Win, win.

“I really have to go to class today, it’s my day to have those retards read one of my papers and tell me what they think, while I pretend to care. These fucking required classes suck.”

They do bark a lot though, seemingly at everything, even at themselves when they chance upon their reflection. How strange it must be to come face to face with yourself, but being too stupid to understand the concept of “I” you think that your image is another “thing like me but not me…somehow.” I suddenly realized that I was just standing there, lost in my own bullshit. I settled on a de facto response that would later in life serve me with such distinction.

“Sure.”

“I’ll call you when I’m done, though, I think drinking sounds like a good idea.”

“Ok, have a good time with the bastards.”

“Bye.”

This would have been great news if the cell phone had been invented already, but alas, in those dark times one would have to literally wait by the phone when one was expecting a call, and I wasn’t exactly sure where my phone was at the moment.

What happened next is why this was the first and last time I did LSD in a public, daylight setting.

end transmission.