The Lost Diary of M by Paul Wolfe

Author:Paul Wolfe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-10-08T00:00:00+00:00

Acid Fragment 1

It is a beautiful Saturday morning. In a blaze of hot sunshine, on a long carpet of white sand, I take 300 micrograms of Heavenly Blue. I can feel the sun radiating its heat into my cells, can feel my body turn into sunshine. I stand up and remove my Catalina bathing suit. I am a creature unburdened with identity, moving slow, slow into wet green liquid, changing composition from sunshine to seawater.

I become an amphibian, propelled with frog legs through lapping waves. I transform into four-legs, a creature of my racial memory treading some dim pool a billion years ago. Legs, eyes, feathers, eggs, placentas, flowers, I metamorphose into a two-legged human being, an upright person leaving the water and returning to sand. I am a sea nymph. I am a goddess, and Tim is there to greet me, smiling. We start kissing. It is effortless, it requires no setup, it is an act of nature no more significant than the sea rolling in, we fall down, gravity sucks us downward onto sand, and we begin making love in the rolling surf. Am I in a famous movie? Do the movies of life simply imitate the movies of cinema?

Suddenly, Prissy Hickock is there. She’s been watching over us. She seems a bird at first, and then I see her as an Aztec statue, and then she is a woman who is upset, and I think she must be joking, all human dramas are clearly a joke to me, but she seems serious. She appears to be overcome with jealousy at Tim and me being together. It seems utterly ridiculous—she is enacting a part—but we disentangle and sit up on the sand as water rolls in over us. “I’m not tripping, now, OK,” Prissy says, “and I know that everything is everything and all that, but you know, it’s not OK with me you’re with her.”

“I’m just dancing with the living situation,” Tim says to her in his melodious voice of quiet authority, and he seems reasonable, but I am naked and a million miles away. I put my bathing suit back on and race into the water, swimming as fast as I can, I don’t know why, and suddenly I don’t know where I am, I am upside down, I am upside up, I’m not sure where the water stops and the air begins, and I decide it is time to panic. And then I am grabbed, lifted up, I am raised by hands of iron. Rolf von Ekkelsberg has picked me up and is carrying me through the water. I feel surely he is a god, I have never met anyone more godlike before, I know it is some version of Valhalla. A part of me knows I might have died then and there, I might have breathed water until I was no longer among the breathing, but I am alive and Rolf is laying me on the sand and covering me with a Mexican blanket. Tim leans over me, looking deeply into my eyes.

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