Garrett was in Sweden. For two and a half weeks or something like that. Those weeks, I have been drunk 90% of the time. Can't even remember clearly what has happened. Gothenburg and all that... After that time I got shitfaced in the park, I can't really recall what I have been doing. I think I was out clubbing twice the week after that sunday.
Then there was Beerfest. I wasn't drunk at Beerfest. I was drunk the day after. And did some other shit too. Shot race in the night, one of us crashed (not me actually), and I have a vague memory of watching Kick Ass. Which was a really good movie. The day after that I tried to leave the whole time - but ended up by a camp fire grilling big chunks of turkey. And smoking and drinking.
After that weekend my body was going to hell. It was a Tuesday. I felt so weak, lost, confused, torn to pieces. That was when I realized I had to get my shit together. So I read the best book I've read in a long while - Fördjupande studier i katastroffysik - really captivating; and stayed sober for... Was it four days? Maybe it was just three cause I recall drinking that friday, because I was slightly hungover at the wedding the day after...
Saturday I "worked" at a wedding, which included drinking. Didn't get drunk but watched adults getting more and more drunk, more and more loud, and more and more "embarrassing". Sunday I left for Garrett's place.
The last night. 1 hour of sleep. Packing. Not knowing what to say. Going up early, going in to Malmö to fix stuff. Was I going home? No I was following to the airport. Ok, made a stop at Superbrugsen: cider and Smirnoff Ice and hungover pills. Airport, check-in, lunch at Burger King, coffee at Starbucks. Time for goodbyes.
Didn't feel well at all, a pressure on my chest, sadness in my mind. Just wanted to never let go...
Almost started crying when I went back to the others. Tried to cheer up. Somehow we made a big detour to IKEA on the way back, which was fun, got my mind off things.
When I finally came home, I started cleaning. Then crashed. Then woke up still not feeling well. Got dressed, got ready, packed some booze and made for a förfest. Got drunk on "Never have I ever" - and we left for Båten. Danced, got some ciders, got raggade på while up in the lounge smoking, danced some more. When the place closed, most went home. Not me and Molina, we continued the dancing at Étage, one more hour. Got hit on. Danced and danced and danced. Heat, sweat, bodies moving like one.
On the way home we talked to some German guys and pretended to be British. We went on the swings for no reason at all, which was where we decided to do shrooms. Went inside and ate the stuff. After half an hour, everything was breathing: the walls, the couch, my blanket, the bookshelves... My hand was pulsating, I could see all the veins and the blood coursing through them. I was gently rocked from side to side by my chintz; kändes som att fåtöljen var en liten båt som gungade på vågorna. Everything was beautiful; colors and light enhanced. Just lay there snug in my blanket, watching everything move, breathe, shine, shift color, get distorted then turn back to normal. Then I moved into my room and everything went bad. Lying there in my bed, awefully tired, I felt trapped in my own body, I felt like I was under the ground, immersed in earth and green things, feeling the earth breathe in a rainforest like way. Jag var alledeles genomskinlig, men lyste med ett grönt ljus inifrån, och små gröna ådror snirklade sig över hela min pulserande kropp som låg precis under ytan, precis under gräset. My head was really tightly wired and prickling all the time. The leaves outside the window were amazing to watch, but apart from that, it was strange trying to not fall asleep but being so dead tired - I think what I felt then is what sleep paralyzis feels like. Trapped. It was an interesting perspective. I just wish I had done it outside in a green place, and when I was in a better mood. Would have been more awesome then.
