10:35 p.m.
I noticed some mushrooms on the way to the allotment and picked about fifty or so. The last time I took anything like that was about eighteen months ago at New Year when I took these mushrooms my friend had felt unable to resist picking, even just for old time's sake. I don't know many mushrooms were in the tissue paper I swallowed and neither did he. That's the way to do it!
I ate the fifty mushrooms about half an hour ago. I think once I saw my ego go floating by after I'd taken about twenty five, but I can't remember. After eating how many it was about eighteen months ago, I regained a bit of an interest in hallucinogenics.
I did not mention to the Domestic Bliss that I had gathered or gobbled these mushrooms because ... whatever happened to all those nice tolerant drug addled hippy chicks, eh?
When I picked the mushrooms, I thought of the guy who'd given me the mushrooms eighteen months before. Then tonight I heard that he's been given the black spot. Much nicer guy than moi. So I just took the mushrooms. Nothing much happening though. Of course, I had a cannybliss yogurt earlier on because the Pizzaman brought the tiniest bit of pizza and it shows that times are hard out there.
And we're not quaranteed the time, are we, Jack? I think not, Hotboy. I think not.
2 comments:
plot line for next novel: blissheid swallows poison after blogging about it. bliss partner discovers him standing on head in a coma. doctors say he's a goner unless they can identify the poison. partner tries to look up the blog but doesn't know the address. the end.
Albert? I'm trying to give up writing novels. It's bad for you. Hotboy
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