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June 11, 2017 - 100 words
So many people. Packed. People everywhere. Water bottle in my hand. New friends, old crushes. I always forget how lucid the thing is but we are still so altered. It occurs to me this state is almost divinely unnatural. There’s no room for humor, comedy, or irony… in other words, STYLE. Those require some measure of deception. I don’t think the brain is meant to be unconditionally accepting, but for a couple hours it’s okay. Everyone is on the same page wading in the river of the experience, one sympathetic entity breathing in the breath of enchanted music. Fucking drugs.