I've been bouncing around between relationships lately. It is not positive. It is not by choice. I kind of like the idea of a cozy domestic life with a committed partner but I seem to be attracting younger, fun, but, ultimately, flakey women. I can't bitch too hard though. I have to admit that this particular flavor of female attention is flattering for me. Maybe I'm too hard on myself but, aside from having nice eyes, I always thought I was a little chubby and somewhat "frumpy."
Anyway, I was, until recently, dating a beautiful, swarthy, mostly Spanish speaking, Mexican girl named Nancy and I have been and intend to continue taking an inordinate amount of psilocybin mushrooms but the two are not related; or are they? I had been rather hurt by my last breakup. Things became extremely toxic. I threatened to out Ashley for her relationship with me to her husband to whom she had returned after we split up and he threatened to out me for my cannabis use (they are still not cool with it, sadly). I was in a bad place. A dark cloud hung over my life, so to speak, but then I began taking high dose mushroom trips (I'm talking five or more grams of cubensis) three to four times a month over the last three months and I found that it chilled me out a lot, made me more confident, and more open to interacting with others and I credit that for allowing me to draw in a girl almost ten years my junior (I'm thirty-five, by the way).
Nancy was very attractive but also kind of a nightmare to be with and, ultimately, gave me the impression that she was untrustworthy. I don't mean to be mean but, holy fucking shit, that chick sucked really hard and not in the good kind of way (I mean, she did actually but that is aside from the point). She was demanding, judgmental of my weed smoking and therapeutic mushroom use. Several times she bitched that she never saw me not at least a little influenced by weed. I tried to explain that, for better or worse, weed makes me a million times cooler person and that I don't want to subject the world to the angsty cuntyness that "sober" me seems to generate in abundance. She rolled her eyes and offered me disgusting green apple whisky as though it was a healthier vice. She always wanted to go out to trendy bars and ask me to overpay for way too sweet mixed drinks while a weird mix of off-putting hipsters and twenty-three year old fuckboys sloppily hit on every booty shorts wearing chick within ass-grabbing-reach. I up with that, though. The sex was good and frequent and she cooked me dinner after work but I had suspicions about her that tainted the relationship.
I can't prove that anything happened between her and someone else but there was a lot of weirdness going on and some weak and inconsistent explanations given for it so I chose to walk away from her and into the loving embrace of five gram mushroom trip. Some would say that this was risky. I could go down some teenage "I'm sad about my girlfriend" rabbit hole and have a bad trip but I went ahead without fear. The mushrooms have been gentle enough with me lately so I thought it would be okay and it absolutely was. It felt great, actually, and I spent a lot of time thinking about this weird thought that keeps occurring to me during my trips and persists afterword.
It occurred to me, one mushroomy night, that the universe is made of words. That sounds silly, I know. It's made of matter, in fact, plus some other shit. I'm not a scientist. I'm a guy who talks to fungus on his nights off. Stop judging me. Anyway, matter is made of atoms and molecules and they are formed in such a way so as to function as a word. That is to say, each can be interpreted as a code made of three parts that can be charged positively, negatively, or not charged at all. The numbers of these particles determine what a substance is. Hydrogen has one of each, for example. The substance itself functions as the matter and the word for the matter. Sometimes these words combine and form new compound words and new substances at the same time. Arranged in the correct way, like a sentence or a paragraph, these words can form all the complex objects that we see around us. Its like that little pebble on the ground or the coffee table are novels made of countless little words. I am agnostic, I am not religious, and I certainty wouldn't call myself Christian but I was raised in that culture and I could not help but recall that, in the Bible, God does fucking speak this bitch of a universe into existence. I'm not ready to fall on my knees and repent for my sinful lifestyle but I have to wonder if the originators of that story were on to more than I have previously given them credit for.
Peace.
The images in this post are sourced from unsplash.com.