VI

Hello, friend. Hey, looking good! Have you lost some weight? I’m working hard at losing some weight myself. College-aged me would kick the shit out of me right now, quite literally. My son is only four years old, and I refuse to stay in the class of “Dad Bod” any longer. I’ll have plenty of time for that later. Speaking of time, the time has sure flown on by since our last correspondence. How have you been? Yeah, I’m doing pretty well. Still hard at work on planning out my road trip.

Speaking of trips – I’ve been thinking a lot about my last trip. Man, what a fucking trip that was. Shit. I was up in the mountains at a music festival, and I was floating above everyone. The colors and sounds were so beautiful. Walking through the ski lodge, everything came to life. All the posters, signs, and people. Damn. The posters became animated with snowboarders and skiers leaping right off of the page. The signs all became 3-D neon fixtures as though I was walking along the Vegas strip. And the people. Man, the people. Well, they became almost caricatures of themselves. With whatever emotion they were exasperating became ultra-evident engaging with them. It was an almost Reptilian experience. Or at least what I would imagine one to be. It was all great until we had to cross the road to get to our car. Fuck, that’s where it all went wrong. Suddenly this rural road became a real-life version of Frogger. And the same caricature-like appearances the people had, the cars, trucks, and SUV’s received the same treatment. As I was making my way across the road, my legs began sinking in the asphalt, naturally. Add this with those grills that look like they’re smiling at you, and when fear factors in, suddenly these smiles turn into evil grins as they speed up trying to FUCKING TAKE YOU OUT, like the frogger bitch that you are! Couple this with the drivers now violently yelling at you to the point of fire and steam coming out of their ears. That country road quickly became my trip to hell. I’m fairly certain Hitler passed me.

Well, thank the universe that we’re not stuck in some Groundhog Day version of our lives. Unless of course, you’re stuck in some bad acid trip??? I’ve had a few close calls myself, damn. Shit man, I can’t imagine how fucked up my life would be if I hadn’t crawled back out of the rabbit hole on that last one. IX-tip – you only need one strip if they’re double-dipped. And don’t be one of only a few people tripping out of your mind at a cocaine and alcohol-fueled festival. It’s just not gonna end well – for anyone. See you in seven. -IX