nightmare#1

paranoia!

consider yourself lucky… last night… i almost went insane… because of two measly hits of weed…

i went out with this playa from my work who’s 42… figured i’d watch him, just because… we trundled down to the bar… get outta his car… he busts out a joint, two puffs … the first toke, it felt like there were a thousand tiny hands that’d suddenly latched onto my uvula… we walk on… i’ve never had something which kicked in so fast… i sank in on myself immediately … i listened to borgnine’s (he’s the playa) friend talk to the owner of a cell phone he’d found on the street… and suddenly he vanished, he’d gone to meet the owner who happened to be a block away… 

i stood wobbly, suspicious of the whole thing… borgnine lead me to a curious pier with some boats that people ate, drank, fucked and flirted on… we walked down the concrete pier… and came to a boat, i think he said it’d sunk in the harbor and they raised it… he said, that’s the frying pan… i looked and i said, “that’s… IT…?”… we walked onto it… i was so wobbly… he showed me the outside seating… then he started walking down some steps, into the boat… we walked by a room whose door was open (i think there was a bed in it), i swear he said he’d made out with a girl in there and grabbed some titty… he descended the stairs… 

in my inebriated state, it looked to me like he was going down into the dark… i thought to myself, there’s no way i can find my way around in the dark… and… why does this guy want to head to the dark anyway? fuck that… i ain’t goin… meanwhile he’s standing just outside the darkness, waving his hand as if to say, come this way… i walked off the boat of images of being anally raped flitted through my head… he came back up… asked if i was claustrophobic … i told him i was fucked up… dizzy dizzy dizzy… 

my vision was fucked… and all i could think was, this has just started and it won’t be letting up for quite a while… 

borgnine’s friend returned… they were standing on line… getting themselves something to drink… i had a water… i watched them carefully… wondering if they’d drop anything in my drink… i was insane… i took my water and walked off… and wobbly… stood there for a good long while, staring at the water… wanting to be home… realizing that i’d left my keys in my bag and my bag in borgnine’s car… fuck!… 

instead, i was stuck watching a goof ball in a kayak paddle a volley ball down the hudson… then two more kayakers came down… they stopped in front of me, without taking notice of me… one of them suddenly flips his kayak and keeps himself under water for a minute or so… i stood enrapt… did he do it on purpose, does his friend know his friend’s kayak has flipped… will the guy come back up… he did… i was relieved that i didn’t have to say anything… flipper dips himself three more times… it terrifies me… meanwhile the dude’s friend is entertaining himself by deliberately smacking the water with his paddle… in almost robotic motions… finally flipper gives up… and starts rowing backwards… christ, i thought, is this really happening?… it must be… and what the fuck was that weed laced with anyway?… i don’t think i’ve ever been so frustrated by such an overwhelming sense of isolation… 

my vision started getting frisky… rolling up… trailing as i moved my head… borgnine and his buddy walked around a bit… i felt like i needed to be in light… somehow dusk frightened me… like once the sun went down i wouldn’t have any energy… i wouldn’t be able to stand anymore… 

borgnine invited me to sit with them and watch the sunset… i followed him and began wondering if i was really in manhattan still… i tried to piece together what happened … was it possible that i’d lost time somehow and they’d drug me off to some place else, without my noticing it?… 

i was sitting one seat away from them… watching people… without being too obvious, i hoped… i didn’t trust them… i was suffering from an terribly over-exaggerated sense of paranoia… i think borgnine asked me at some point if what i was going through was spiritual … i told him no, i was just dizzy… i sat there, staring off… while they told jokes and stories … i heard what seemed to be an inordinate amount words, wasted on tales of pursuit… watched borgnine’s friend laugh, slapping his knee… saw people pass by me, very close… wondered why their bodies were so close… i could feel the heat from their pelvises as they walked by… i began to wonder if i was on display… what would these people do to me if i suddenly passed out… i felt exhausted… i was ready to put my head back and go to sleep… i felt like i was supposed to succumb at that moment to my exhaustion… but i didn’t… 

sometime while borgnine’s friend was gone, he managed to tell me for the second time that day, everything he’d told me at the office… chiefly how he’d let mike know that mike was suffering from the seven year itch… and that he had to either find a hole to screw or he had to start appreciating his wife and maybe strike something with her again… i wasn’t very interested the second time around…

in an unusual twist, i became very cold… almost shivering… my muscles began to tense up, just short of shivering… only reinforcing the curiosity of where i was… manhattan… really?… how could i be this cold… i stared off at the sunset and the fish scale sky… the clouds and colors were unbelievable… but i woulda been happier sober… continued to stare off… borgnine said something to me… can i do any cloud/clown impressions or something like that … i ignored him… i told borgnine i needed to go to his car… he said his friend just went to get food, it would probably be about half an hour… and he really didn’t want to lose the seats we had… 

i sat… patiently as i could… mouth and eyes like a desert… waiting… he came back with food… they ate… they grabbed a table… started talking to some women… finished their food… bought a bucket-o-beer… and continued talking about nothing… i felt like i’d been waiting an eternity… and finally got up the nerve to say i needed to go to his car… i knew he was operating on a patient just then… but i needed to get the fuck outta there…

we begin the long haul back to dry land… i keep an eye on the scenery as we walk… making sure i’m comfortable with all that i see… that nothing looks surprisingly different from what i saw on my way in… which is interesting, as far as paranoia goes… because it’s a fucking pier… they can’t very well change the pier… ahh well… borgnine’s got his beer with him… we’re once again paused, outside the frying pan… he asks if i want to go in it… i think to myself, so close to getting outta here and i could still get raped… i tell him no… begin to walk on, he says something about his beer… i look at the bottle… surprised there’s so much foam… it’s in the bottle… what’d he do to it… i didn’t really care… i just wanted him to finish the damned thing… and who brings a beer with them when someone’s trying to exit anyway… he’s seen me mute for two hours now… knows i’m in a state… and i’ve got to waste more time, almost home free, while he downs his shitty beer… two swigs and i’m motioning anxiously as he makes small talk… “all right, all right. i was just trying to …” … i stopped listening… he’s muttering something about how he’s sure that i musta had a good time, somewhat… what with the sunset… and other random things… yeah, i tell him, i had a good time…

on the street… i’m wondering… do i have my wits about me enough to walk the right way… yes!… i manage to start walking south east… scanning for available cabs… after finding one… i feel like he going south west… or like he’s making no effort to make his way east… and running us into the diminishing west end of the island… i try to keep my eye on the meter… but its ticking numbers quickly fail to make much sense to me… we’re on 9th now… ok… 7th… going down bleeker, why?… wait… how’d we pass bleeker again?… hit a snarl of traffic… he says he’s going to turn off the meter, add a buck or two to what ever the total is and end run around the traffic… or… that’s what i hope he’s said… because it’s what i heard him say… suddenly we’re on e broadway… he asks if he can get pitt from there… i tell him yeah, it’s just a few blocks up and e broadway and pitt is fine with me… i’m pretty sure i found a wallet in the back seat… i gave it to him… he seemed reluctant about taking it… saying something about how he’ll have to take it to the precinct… i couldn’t understand what he was saying… and dropped it in the passenger’s seat… it seems to me he said that with anything else he could just get in touch with the person and arrange for them to pick up their belongings… but with wallets, he was obligated to take it to the cops… i’m almost certain that he also told me you should always take a receipt from your taxi driver, because it’s got their medallion number on it and if you’ve lost something you can use that to track them down… of course if you’ve got enough presence of mind to ask for that you’d think you’d have your wits about you enough to grab your shit…

home sweet home… i snacked, watched a terrible movie and was asleep before midnight… back up at 6am…

oh and let’s not forget that at various points through out the evening i got pins and needles… that was very reassuring…

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