“Is the cement moving now?” “No. It’s not.” From there you go, to you’re going to be okay, to you probably should never do acid again,
Sam went on to explain what she called “the trance.” The trance happens when you don’t focus on anything,
and the whole big picture swallows and moves around you. She said it was usually metaphoric, but for people who should never do acid again, it was literal.
That’s when I started laughing. I was so relieved. And Sam and Patrick smiled.
I was glad they started smiling, too, because I couldn’t stand their looking so worried.
Things have stopped moving for the most part ever since. I haven’t skipped another class.
And I guess now I don’t feel like a big faker for trying to put my life back together.
Bill thought my paper on The Catcher in the Rye (which I wrote on my new old typewriter!) was my best one yet.
He said I was “developing” at a rapid pace and gave me a different kind of book as “a reward.”
It’s On the Road by Jack Kerouac. I’m now up to about ten cigarettes a day.
Love always, Charlie
January 25, 1992
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