4/20 was so fucked up: 22 de abril de 2014
4/20 was so fucked up, in a good way. Sonja, Agustín, and I smoked a joint in Agustín’s room and listened to music. We talked about so many beautiful things. I was astounded because I realized they are both very smart people who challenge the way I think and perceive the world around me, and I didn’t like either of them when I first met them!
Sonja is very smart, with history, factual info, the mechanics. How things are put together to function as one unit. She sees language as music, the words as lyrics to a song. She can speak a bit of French, German, Russian, Spanish, and is fluent in English, obviously. It’s interesting to me because I can definitely see a part of her that’s trying to be accepted into a crowd she views as cooler than the rest.
I think she wants to talk about boys, in the way that I don’t care about boys, or sex. I think she’s a very serious person. I could get so deep with both of them. She asked good questions about my mind, about the “why’s.” When I said, “Whatever, I’m just high,” she said, “It’s still valid, though!”
I understood so much Spanish! I understood what Agustín said in Spanish and what he was trying to say in English. I was doing my half mind-reading thing where I reply before the person finishes the question. So many times Sonja didn’t know what we were talking about. And so many times Agustín didn’t know what Sonja and I were talking about.
I felt like we were Harry, Ron, and Hermione. I felt like we connected so fucking hard. I felt understood, deeply, deeper than I have in months. The deepest I have felt in South America. What a fucking beautiful surprise, to experience what one is supposed to experience in life. And what I want is that, every day, every night, every moment.
Weed unites people. I know it’s true. Why can’t we all get together and smoke a joint and talk intensely about the things that matter? Why don’t we do this more often? I think it’s so important. We opened up, we may have revealed our insecurities. I think I felt anxious and I’m unsure if this was because of the weed, my own insecurity, or a combo of both. Obviously a combo of both.
Sometimes I feel that relationships, or talking with other people, is a game of not revealing your insecurities first. It feels like that with Sonja, like how I said it seems she’s competing with me. But I want to be a person that can talk about my insecurities openly and with a weird confident self-awareness. I think people have always made me feel a little twitchy and uncomfortable, and I want to be able to talk openly and honestly without feeling uncomfortable. I think that’s a good goal for the future.
buenas ondas: cigarette, coffee, black ink pen, shorts, Birks, fall colours, a dirty white shirt, a plaid camiseta with white paint drops everywhere, a mechanic’s blue-gray light jacket, the soft blues. A Hello Kitty trucker hat, Amelia’s voice singing as her hands tap and strum and pluck away, the music a harmonious overtone to the squabbling chickens, roosters, geese.
My gray, skinny kitty eats from a pile of cat chow on the cement path on the side of the casita, under my window. Braided, white-blonde hair with the roots finally becoming something more than just roots. Amelia’s voice, “Ana! I go toilet caca!” from behind the screen of the window to the left, and my cackling laugh, bouncy, high, ridiculous.