—Daniel Corrigan, Eddie Potomac. Publicity photos for Warriors: The Musical. 1984.
I don’t know if there’s a way to measure how high you are, but I was super high. I was baked to the point where my brain was running two or three steps behind my tongue. Or maybe it was the other way around. No question about it, though, I was fucking flying, like…like an eagle, I guess.
There was no way I could play Frisbee, and Hacky Sack was likewise out of the question. I was way too high. I could still listen to Bob Marley, though. I could still hear Bob Marley, and it was exactly like I knew what he was singing about, even though I really didn’t. I mean, on some level I like to think I did. Peace and all that, which I agree with.
There was this humongous bonfire –a bunch of guys had thrown some car seats and gasoline on there– and I liked looking at that and thinking about the world, about how fucked up the world was. Or at least rushing out. I was kind of bummed to discover that I’d gotten mud all over my new suede Pumas.
I wished I could get in the backseat of a car with one of the girls –they were all drunk enough that it was maybe even possible– but I was way too baked and hypnotized by the bonfire. I tried to sing along with Bob Marley, but I really didn’t remember the words. I don’t think, actually, that I ever did know the words. It wasn’t even my tape. I knew how the songs went, though, most of them, anyway, but I guess that’s not the same as knowing the words.
At some point I must have gone in the river, because when I woke up in the tent all my clothes were super wet.
Oh, yeah, we also blew up a bunch of shit.
The whole weekend totally kicked ass.
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