Forest Hermit

I found an old glass coke bottle today on top of a roof. By it was an empty mickey of vodka. It seems as though they had a party on the roof back in the 80’s and that fun was harnessed in the bottles and the atmosphere. The atmosphere fun has long since been converted to rain, probably, but the bottle fun has been lying dormant for me to collect and rekindle. I have planned on filling it with one part oat brush and five parts water, leaving it in the sun and making a sun decoction to drink on the darker nights when my mind has decided to wander. I could visit Sphen, the forest hermit, and ask his advice on my future. He would probably mumble something about a hive being an animal, but he makes a good fire. To add to the merriment we could eat some mushrooms and increase our transcendence. 

Have you ever had a dream, partook in activities in the dream, and then tuckered, found yourself a bed and gone asleep in the dream only to wake up where things are weird squared. Well, that’s what mushrooms would be like with my friend the forest hermit. He would say manzer, and I could not stop myself from laughing. You wouldn’t understand the funny of it. Other words would be equally funny, but also unsurpassably horrible. His advice about the hive being an animal, no longer word twinkies, but now acting as gong and vibrating your mind with the universe. From there his words would be incantations: “The goose flies at midnight” and “Tree bark. Salad Fingers.” I wouldn’t be surprised if I started levitating.

If you see a wild haired man, with a soft, pillowy beard relaxing and humming through the air do not panic. Simply smile, and remember: “The hive is an animal.”