Awefull

Yesterday I'd tried, foolishly, to put into words the experience I had with my hippie comrades. I posted a photo of a painting by Maxfield Parrish called Daybreak that I thought approached describing it. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then a picture of a painting must be worth a few thousand more, right? But still, I find myself wanting to relay the event; even though what I write here still cannot encompass, even partially, what it was like. Here's to trying:

The day started out normally enough, with French toast drenched in maple syrup, music and sunshine. Kim, Simon and I lounged around the apartment, leisurely, considering our options for the day. Blue skies beckoned us from the world outside. I suggested that before we did anything I should take them out into the yard and hit them with the hose: to sanitize them for public consumption. I'm kidding, they aren't dirty hippies - they showered yesterday. Instead, I applied soap and hot water to my own stinking gonads and cleansed my skin for whatever the day had in store. I didn't know it at the time, but I was consecrating my epidermis for an impending religious experience.

When I exited the shower Kim had a cute mischievous look in her eye.

"Is my epididymus showing," I asked.

"I have an idea. It's a beautiful day...let's take acid," she said.

I laughed heartily and was about to dismiss the idea when I saw in her face that she was serious. Really, she said, what better time than now? A bit apprehensively, I told her that I wasn't sure if I was in the best place, emotionally, to embark on such a journey.

"Come here, lie down and let me give you a Reiki temple massage; it'll help you make a decision."

Unable to pass up a massage, I obliged. Shockingly, I felt my anxiety slowly melting away like a stick of butter left out in the sun. I think maybe I could do this, I said to myself.

"Shit! I left the butter on the counter!"

I went and saved the goopy butter from its demise and threw it in the freezer like a carbonite Han Solo. I suggested we go get ice-cream and feel out the day's energy, promising to make my decision once we returned. During our walk, I asked them what their past experiences had been like, having them compare it to other substances to get a sense of it. I got the impression it would be like walking in a waking dream; an adventure with all the childlike awe and magic returned to the world.

When we got back home I crushed up the enchanted breathmint into a fine powder and then separated it into equal pieces. We licked our fingers and pressed them into the plate. Kim revealed some protective crystals she'd had in her bag and said they'd bring us luck. She also removed a large holographic photo of Ganesha, who was to bless our travels. Then she began burning sage and asked me to lift my feet, one at a time, as she swirled the smoke around me. I went and put a condom on my flaccid penis, just for some additional protection...I felt invulnerable.

Soon, I was overtaken by a kind of silliness. I felt giggly and my mind became more fluid. I felt more inventive, like my imagination had been fortified by the rituals I'd undergone. My body was hit with waves of euphoria and a desire to stretch. All of my muscles felt alive; relaxed but ready. I suggested we venture out into Golden Gate and see what mysteries awaited us. As soon as we entered the park we were transported into a sort of fairy tale. Trees shimmered in the sun and danced in the breeze. Time slowed down and we moved carelessly, like turtles. We found a giant tree and the three of us wrapped our arms around it. I knew my transformation was complete: I'd become, quite literally, a tree hugger. A human cock-ring adorning the base of an enormous erect tree.

We continued walking, stopping to stare at leaves and trees, flowers and plants. Kim and Simon began picking plants from the ground and eating them. I warned them to beware, the plants were liable to have been sprinkled with dog urine, or worse, bum-piss. They said it tasted peppery. Yep, it was bum-piss. Next, we moved toward the conservatory of flowers. The scene was like a painting. Little girls in dresses picked flowers in the grass and ran around laughing as they handed them out. The flowers seemed to smile and spread their petals wide, wanting to share an embrace with our eyes. When children ran past you could feel them radiating warmth and beauty; they smelled like sunshine.

We stumbled across a roller rink where a graceful transvestite glided across the pavement as though on ice. I remarked that when I'd woken up this morning if someone had told me I'd be tripping on acid in Golden Gate park watching a transvestite rollerblader, I'd have laughed in their face. Yet, there I was. Suddenly a groundhog burst up from the ground where we sat. Amazed at its boldness we began laughing. Kim and Simon started feeding it the peppery bum-piss flowers they'd picked. We named him Herman. I thought he flashed his anus at us, ready to spray like a skunk, but they told me it was his face, not his anus. I still think Ass-Face might have suited him better than Herman. We laughed and Herman never revealed his face, or ass, again.

We walked to the fountains by the Academy of Sciences and looked at the artwork. A street musician presided over the affair, seeming to orchestrate the entirety of the moment through music. It felt as though without him, all of us would've dissolved and collapsed into dust. There was an oil painting that depicted a hauntingly beautiful view of the pacific from a mud colored jetty. Though they were still, I watched the waves slowly sail into the shore. As we walked toward the stage, the symmetry of the path and pews mesmerized me. The golden sunlight streaming through the porticoes of my mind mirrored those before us and I was struck with the feeling we were inside a painting, lying on the floor of Maxfield Parrish's Daydream.

As we passed the Japanese Tea Garden we were transported to feudal Japan. We saw a reincarnated St. Francis of Assisi communing with an assortment of creatures; squirrels, bluejays, lions, tigers and bears swarmed around him as he threw feed. Then we watched the water rippling on top of Stow Lake, little ducks wading slowly across it, like little transvestite rollerbladers. I cannot relay the sense of connectedness I felt with the duck, or the water. We are water more than anything else.

Then we climbed to the top of a mountain and watched the sun get swallowed by the sea. The last 30 seconds of the sunset were so replete with splendor that I struggled to keep my breath. Awesome, I said. No, awful, Simon replied. What? Awefull. A chemical smile spread across my face. We beheld glory in full technicolor. It was like watching an HD-TV from the future. The clouds were lush and soft, glowing with an almost supernatural vibrance. We marveled at the colors in the sky until the night swept them away and then we began our descent.

A harmonica sounded out in the darkness near the fountain, like a metallic wolf howling at the waning moon. Its beautiful sound of longing drew us in like the tide. We stood rapt, wrapped in radiant awe as the guitar cried out to compliment the harmonica. The music blew on the breeze and nestled against our ears, moving through our skin and resonating in our hearts. As we passed the musician he looked up at us and smiled, his fingers danced across the fretboard creating a beautiful flourish that immortalized us in his song.

We stood and stared at the Sphinx, first at the left side of its face, and then the right. Its face was so faceted, beguilingly so. It inspired the realization that everything else is, too. One side was contemplative and vaguely pained, the other stern and resolute. In front, the two sides merged into one, breathing a lifelike subtly into the solemn stone statue.

We walked home happy in the darkness, blanketed by night's reticent stillness. In the distance we heard the sound of laughter. While traveling at a tortoise's pace, I realized the day was perfect and patient.

A plane bellowed a farewell in the sky above, the wind humming below its great metal wings.