The Great absinthe experiment: Part III , the final chapter

Continued from PART II

A second drink in hand, sitting at my computer desk, I felt gypped. Sure, I had a buzz on, but nothing to brag about, let alone claim surreal or metaphysical experiences from. Feeling a little duped, I logged into a game of mini-golf: mindless, and a time-killer, it would let time pass and so let me unwind.

I took a healthy belt of drink Number Two, and proceeded to play said mini-golf game. I had reached the third hole of the game, felt a fit of pique, and backed another healthy belt of my custom-blended beverage.

Another two holes, and it hit me.

I experienced a clarity of thought, a near-alarming self-insight, that was startling in it's intensity. It was as if a door of some sort had opened in my mind, and I could 'see' clearly, as I could never see before. It didn't matter what arena or subject I put my head to, I saw things from a wholly different perspective.

I stood from my post in from of the computer, and noticed an odd tingling running down my legs, something reminiscent of a tequila-drunk of yore. I wanted a cigarette, which stood to reason as I would often smoke more when under the influence of alcohol. Marvelling at the movement of my legs, I descended the seven stairs to the front foyer, and exited the front door.

Decimated hedges, and struggling flower beds, greeted my eyes in the dull of night. I could easily picture what I wanted to see in a few months time from them, as if transported to a future time. As I plunked my bulk down to light a cigarette, I became aware of a transient lidocaine-like feeling through my lips and face.... it wasn't scary, but it did make me wonder. I had brought that second drink with me, having added more ice to it's contents: it was sort of like a licorice-tasting water, very refreshing, and oddly not an imposition on my sensitive guts and reactivity to things alcoholic.

I lit a cigarette, oddly aware of my surroundings: it was as if they could speak to me, but not on a level that could be heard by human ears. That disconcerted me, so I turned my thoughts to another topic. I reflected on my marriage of more than 25 years, where it had taken me, what I had learned (sometimes it took a sledge hammer for me to get the message, I admit that in all candor), why it might have been NECESSARY for some of those experiences to have occurred. The reality of just how much I love that man, and why, was so intense it almost hurt. I reflected, too, upon Estate matters.... o my gosh, that's a very very long tale, but one that, upon reflection, I felt damned good about. I may be a 'bull in a china shop' when it comes to social proprieties, but I'll stand on my track record: it's pretty damned skookum.

I finished that drink, having decamped for the relative safety of the living room and my stereo. A legacy from my father, I have a love of music that defies a definition, and I got lost in guitar acoustics while listening to a Classic Rock Station.

The Hubster came out to inquire of me and my well being.... and what can I say, I was my usual blunt self: ...“ I'm enjoying the difference of perception, and the half-twiddled state that goes with it”. He gave a half-chuckle, and went back to his project-at-hand. I finished that second drink, amazed by the difference in how I perceived the world around me, let alone the people-politics I lived with. Similar to a tequila-drunk, my head was perfectly funtional: in truth, it was so clear in it's perceptions as to be unsettling. My mouth seemed reasonably cooperative, I wasn't slurring my words, albeit I was choosing them very carefully. That lidocaine-like buzz had become transient in both my legs AND my lips.... yet it still didn't put me off or in any way alarm me.

It was bedtime, by now, and I'm a notoriously early-retirer, because I prefer to be up before 0600h as a rule (blame my daughter for that one: she insisted on getting up at 0500h for the first 2 and a half years of her life).... I knew that booze and head-spins are a common occurence with me, and so I was apprehensive as I commanded my now-twiddled being to lumber for the master bedroom and the sanctity of my bed. My head seemed to be functioning on a level removed from my body, and any circumstance I chose to reflect upon left me feeling unsettled: I needed to get away from that, I didn't feel strong enough to endure any resulting epiphanies. T he human ego isn't as tough as some would like to make it out to be, and this was bordering on overload: mistakes and choices of the past came back at me like ghosts and haunted my consciousness.

The sanctity of my bed was found, along with a new determination: I was going to further explore this 'mythical' substance, but I was going to give myself a few days to process and digest the perceptual differences I'd experienced.

I'd also realized that anyone with a penchant for booze would find this stuff “too easy”, and would likely be poor candidates for the “insights” I'd gleaned from my first experience with absinthe. Most booze-hounds drink for a reason, and I could see absinthe opening doors and trains of thought that really need the input of a therapist and not the under-the-influence self! That it seemed to be too easy too drink when 'built' the way that I 'built' a drink of the stuff, and could give the same booze-high as more than twice the same amount of hard spirits, colored it as dangerous to anyone with a taste for booze. Sleep came quickly, easily, without my guts rousting me in the dead of night for relief.

Mich found herself a new bad habit.

I LIKE that sh*t. I like that it doesn't upset my guts in the same way that mixed drinks can, that it lets me 'see' things from a different perspective. I have yet to suffer a hang-over from it, but that may be in part because of how I “prepare” a drink of the stuff. Yes, it's expensive, yes, it's “TOO EASY”.... but I like it. I really, really like it.

Mich's Mumbles © 2011