I have spent the last week stoned, ripped, wasted, lit, and hopped up on Benadryl.
About a month ago I was hiking with a friend; as we strolled along admiring the lush landscape I pontificated on how (I thought) certain plants that hadn’t bloomed in 100 years were about to make their debut. We had finally gotten the rain we needed in Los Angeles, and with it came the mudslides, car accidents, flooded basements, mold…and pollen. I felt vindicated when I heard on the news that the pollen count was higher than it had been in 100 years, but watering eyes, unstoppable sneezing, respiratory issues, an itchy face, and general misery quickly replaced my arrogance.
A light, magical dusting of yellow covers my car, the joy of gardening is over…for now. Normally I actually enjoy the occasional Benadryl. I allow the drug to wash over me, I sit back, wait for it to kick in and enjoy the opiate-like adventure. Yet after being on it for a week, I am beginning to feel different in more ways than one. The fog that surrounds my head is becoming oppressive, the inability to keep my eyes open makes me feel insecure. I need to be getting things done, helping others, make money, exercise, socialize…and TALK! I can’t complete a sentence and when I do, it makes no sense. Perhaps you can tell?
The problem is that I need to take the stuff. It is the only over the counter drug that stops the allergy attack dead. But now it’s no fun having a little scotch and water along with it. I’m a zombie. Oh and I’m a depressed zombie! When I begin to come out of the fog and swear I won’t take another, little ideas begin to spring forth. I actually want to do things! I want to live! Then the familiar itching starts on my forehead…and I know it’s all over.
I attended Mass with my mother last week (I enjoy the Franciscan’s) and half way through I began to feel panicky. My chest tightened and I knew something was up. Wisely my mother said that maybe it was the flowers on the altar. So I scanned the flowers but only saw Hydrangeas and I know I’m not allergic to them. As I scanned once more I saw them. There they were, brazen yet subtle, somewhat hidden by the grandiosity of the Hydrangea- but unable to hide…the Star Gazer Lily. Not only were they liberally spread over the altar; the damn stamens were still attached! Doesn’t everyone know by now that those (I so want to swear) things are notorious pollen spreaders, and they also stain your clothes? I won’t even go into the wretched smell of death they put off.
I made a beeline out of the church and went home to dose myself.
Anyway, I’m stoned and there isn’t much I can do about it. Better stoned than without oxygen. I can admire the flowering trees, and bushes but I can’t linger. Speaking of bushes, it occurs to me that global warming was here before Bush, during Bush and after Bush. Sorry, just watch NOVA, The History Channel, or Nat Geo.
One last thing (before I forget or pass out), do your self a favor and pick up Jazzmatazz Volume 1 by Guru. You may hate hip-hop (and I can relate) but this album will change your mind. We lost Guru to cancer this week at the very young age of 43.
I have to go back to sleep now.
(Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level 6.5) heh heh heh…