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The Founain By Student Services before/after Ah, yes. That good dark part of the night is on us, and that gentle time of year when there is a federally mandated extra hour of legal bar drinking for all the bar flies and sexual desperates to be on the make. Smell the CK-One mixed with trendy malt ice drinks. Whiff. The smart money slinks in the corner with shots of jack chased with either beer or jack and coke. No I don't miss drinking and drugs. Uh-huh. In lieu of that, we all deserve a nice bedtime story. Gather round, children, I have opened up the vaults, and here is something from one of my earlier preserved journals. I was twenty or something, at college. Acid trip. ...in that state of mind, I went to sit by the fountain. It was just too crowded and I was out of my head to even try to pass. Looking around I found a magnolia tree in full bloom. The sighing breeze tussled the branches causing the blossoms to trickle to the ground, playfully undressing the tree bit by bit like a teasing lover. I gathered one of the flowers in my hand and peered at it. Its glowing opalescent hue of pink and white filled my hand. I was mesmerized. I really don't know how long I sat there and stared. I know it was quite some time. Two girls came along. They got the drop on me. They wanted to talk or flirt or something. I was too fucked up. I was scared. Of what I have no idea. Must've been the hallucinogens. They giggled at my apprehension. I lost their queries as I fled, sent shambling for some kind of sanctuary.
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