Sunlight coshed his irises with a hardened leather sunbeam as he staggered out of his front door, groping at his feet for the milk bottle. A sporadic forest of twig like stubble decorated his chin as a testament to sloth, scratching and readjusting himself through his boxers whilst gazing blankly at the world busying itself around his street, Geoffrey knew intrinsically through every fibre of his being that this was not the “right time” to be outside. Outside was festooned with the harsh reality where “normal” people went about their “normal” existences; at the moment he was far from normal, the tell tale after effects of a weekend of drug based debauchery had put “normal” in a corner and proceeded to kick the proverbial shit out of it.
“What was normal anyway? Just a concept that is overused, maligned and undefined. A pox on you Normal!” Geoff mused.
Smiling at how Byron-esque his internal voice sounded he stepped back into the sanctuary of his shared house.
Reasserting that inside was “good” and outside was indeed “bad”, concepts, ideas and forms flowed through the tired recesses of his brain as if the LSD had empowered the flood gates to open in his cranium and release a deluge of arcane truths hidden within. The Stream of Consciousness was now a River of Sub Consciousness assailing his mind with acute observations and obtuse deliberations; in fact they had to have every angle covered with their musings which seemed to square everything. Geoff had never felt so confused but yet so alive before, every bit of wonderment was laced with the crucial fact of the matter that he was at the moment he was bigger than he had ever been before.
Standing in the room surveying the carpet covered with debris and detritus of the weekend, the empty fag packets, filled ashtrays, broken cigarettes, empty skins, burnt roaches, noxiously fumed redundant lager bottles and the ever so suspicious empty plastic baggy which this morning contained the last four blotters of Acid. Geoff was a giant, a huge man of five foot ten inches who felt he had grown to ten foot five inches. If Bigness was a quality that was to be adored and in his own self adulation, Geoff was king.
“My hands are fucking huge, oh no they are small hands.. nope big hands.. oooo hands”.
He spent a good ten minutes moving his hands towards and away from his face, laughing at the changing perspective which was emblazoned in his kaleidoscope cerebellum. Until he noticed just how clown like his feet had become, they were huge canoe size slabs of meat with wiggling sausages for toes. Each sausage moved independently of thought, as all thoughts at the moment had concluded that “Shitting hell, I have sausages for toes. I’m not ham fisted, I’m ham toed!”
Gazing around the room as an escape from the growing freakiness of his big/small appendages, a certain invisible moving object caught his eye as he watched a fish like thingy float from behind the TV, swim around the room several times and come to rest on the shabby orange armchair. If anything only it being out of the ordinary seemed to normalise the situation as Geoff felt much better about the lack of sleep which had invariably turned him into one of the most advanced philosophical thinkers of this century.
“Deep down! I am ME, I am.”
Impressed by his me-ness, he could only conclude that Acid in the morning before work was a good idea and in fact the best one he had ever had.
“Silly Twat” said the fish like thingy.