You know what I did? Ate a fucking pot brownie for the first time. I didn’t feel it for like an hour and a half, then I felt high. Then we watched Scream 4 which wasn’t scary but got to me later.
When I had to leave.
I go out to my car, it’s cold and I’m paranoid-high. Literally check my backseat for killers. None found.
Type in my home address to my phone’s navigator. Not the route I took to get to this place, but it’ll do I guess. Whoops, as I’m about to exit this neighborhood, I almost missed my turn, so I had to reverse and then make my turn. Checked my rear view mirror and saw a cop car. Terrified. Think I hear a horn. Nope, Morgan, you’re fucking high.
But then I follow the GPS, and it takes me to a DEAD END. WITH SCHOOL BUSES. JUST LIKE A HORROR FILM. “Rerouting…”
Then I am tense for the remaining 35 minutes of my drive. Think I nearly had TWO heart attacks. I thought, “Is this what it’s like to have stroke?” Every pair of headlights I see behind me, I assume, are cops.
All the way ‘til I get to my part of town. “What if I don’t get pulled over til RIGHT NOW? FUCK.”
Then I think I’m in the clear and as I’m passing the neighborhood before mine, I see a bewildered drunk man. But this comes off to me as murderer behavior and I yell, “OH GREAT.”
Then I park my car. Get out, go to my door, look left and right 5 times before getting into my apartment.
“I keep a file of pick-up lines. Your smile
is bright enough to launch a thousand ships.
Hey, Cleo, you’re my lily of the Nile.
Where do you keep the winder for those hips?
Your ankles are so slender I could cry
or kiss your feet, or fall at them for life.
The literary one: When small birds sigh…
The honest one: Distract me from my wife.
And weighing in at worst, I think, Your tits
are dynamite. To that, I’m proud to say
(precocious, seventeen, I took no shit)
I said, Watch out; they’ll blow up in your face.
Take note, my dears, who are so very clever:
I want to fall in love, but not forever.”—Moira Egan, from Bar Napkin Sonnets (via grammatolatry)