CAPTAIN’S FOG

Part journal. Part alibi.
All that remains of a better memory.

4/19/08

Dear Fog,

5:45AM. Worrying about the airport security anal cavity search that didn’t happen caused more stress than if it had.

1:02PM Met a super cool babe. Call Penny when we get there—720-867-5309.

9:23PM The crew and I got baked. Ordered pizza. Rented P.S. I Love You. We cried, we laughed… then cried some more.

After midnight: No joke. As I sit here, pen in hand, murderous screams from the bathroom.

There’s another.

Dare I investigate? Nah. If it’s my time, I’d rather go snug in bed. Besides, I’m down to my briefs and the room is chilly. I don’t need anyone thinking I ain’t packin’ heat.

Because I am.

W.O.B.M.

Goodnight, world.

4/21/08

Dear Fog,

4:31AM Airports feel less like locations and more like suspended accountability.

4:32AM So happy Penny didn’t pick up. I may have never met the most beautiful woman in the world.

4:33AM If Verity tells me to marry her, I will say “yes—Yes—YES!”

2:02PM Home S’weed Home. Really want a joint. Gave Verity my word.

2:03PM Juliee, Rich, and Todd threatened sanctions for violating code.

Article I: Member Conduct

Section I: THC Compliance

Part I: All Day Every Day

Paragraph I: Active members shall consume THC all day, every day, no matter what. Members who fail to comply shall receive the silent treatment. And so shall they forfeit their access to shelf-stable, refrigerated, and frozen munchies—no exceptions.

2:05PM Note: Remember to draft and propose an amendment at the next safety meeting.

The fog thickens…

7/11/99

Dear Fog,

11:16PM Afternoon Recap. You won’t believe this.

I was on my two favorite bowls: Spaceship Earth—and the one I poop in. I took six power taps and called it cashed. I tapped my bowl on the sill and blew the remnants outside.

Then I let loose.

I remember looking at the scale thinking:

I’ll be right there.

I reached for T.P. and peeled off the last piece not large enough to wipe hamster ass. Really? Who leaves someone in a vulnerable position like this?

Then it occurred to me.

My friends.

The linen closet hovered in my peripheral. I was 99.9% sure it lacked another roll. Toiletries were my turn. Still, I held onto that 0.1% like a ripcord at a thousand feet.

With a deep breath, I slapped my knees and tried to stand. The indica locked me in place like an astronaut on takeoff.

I screamed for help. My plea went unanswered, but everyone came running when I yelled “FIRE!”—the entire block and all three emergency services.

Between a dry spell and my neighbor’s environmental stance, the shrubs dividing our properties were dying of thirst—basically begging to combust. Working theory—spontaneous combustion. To be fair, the ember from my bowl could’ve sparked the two-alarm blaze.

No one’s come knocking so I consider myself cleared of wrongdoing—arson, what have you.

Cleared—officially.

Unofficially—definitely not.

Until the fog lifts.

7/12/99

Dear Fog,

8:27AM The taste of freedom really hit home last night. It was so invigorating I’m going to spoil myself today.

11:03AM Purchased inline skates with all the accessories.

Stay foggy.

11/19/02

Dear Fog,

Ally’s Allegory

A pompous nose above steadfast toes twirls across the night
Fluid in motion, she pierces the sky for her own delight
And so, with greed indeed, she will not seed an empty hole in sight
Instead, she pinches the cold dusty moon and uncoils your shadow’s light.

MEMORY SUBJECT TO REVISION