prelude.
on the 28th of September, I went to see Bony Macaroni at Paradiso. I’m not a fan, it was a friend’s friend’s ticket.
the friend - Ida - told me her friend had cancelled, so we met up and went to the concert together. it was OK 👍
what matters is that on the way back, we saw this:
on the train’s overhead luggage space, we found this awful thing. Ida really liked it though, so we took it with us for the night. and when it was her time to go home, she forgot to take it. thus, me and my roommate had to house it for 2 long and unstylish months.
travel.
Ida invited us over for a party, so we figured we’d bring the cursed artifact. without giving up the exact itinerary and doxing my friend, the trip involved 3 train connections over 3 hours.
I’m proud to say that we carried that inelegant image as far as train connection number 3. I am not so proud to think I probably forgot it in another overhead luggage space - i do think it is funny though
partway through the trip, we had a third partygoer join us. she’s carrying art supplies for some reason, including brushes and paint. when we realize the painting is lost, we figure it could be a fun party activity to try and recreate it.
party.
that doesn’t happen. everyone is very busy drinking and smoking and being gay. nothing could possibly be less interesting, and thus give way to the memory of the banana turd painting. someone sets brushes, paint, pens, markers, and art-grade paper on a coffee table, but the idea of the painting is in a far, far-away place.
at some point, someone started drawing. some kind of interesting-type fish appeared on a sheet of paper, and, being high, this got my attention. I kneeled by the table and picked up a fish-shaped pen. i might have found this detail funny had i not needed to dedicate all of my cognitive bandwidth to the extremely complicated task of uncapping the pen.
i had brought up centipedes earlier. i misremembered some anecdote about buying mealworms, declaring to the room that you could order centipedes in bulk; I confess my sins so that I might later be forgiven
this greatly interests two people across the room - Laika and Lili - who are at this point animatedly searching on their phones to verify my claim. they are disappointed when they realize one can indeed order centipedes online, just not in bulk.
planning, drawing, lettering, accounting for physical space - broadly speaking, focusing - while high is difficult, and results in (more) time dilation. regardless of how utterly pathetic the end result is, it took a lot of patience and focus to finish.
i can’t come up with any more excuses for this. i managed to misspell the word ‘centipede’ twice, the exact same way both times.
fallout.
for some reason everyone found this extremely funny. Line drew a ton of impressive, cool designs on some stickers, all while riffing on this stupid thing. we played some jackbox, and every prompt was plagued by mentions of centipedes.
i should make clear that i don’t relish this sort of attention, especially while high. it doesn’t feel bad, or even good. it feels demanding, because i am just lucid enough to register that i am under a higher amount of scrutiny, but not lucid enough to control myself the way i would if I were sober. it feels like i’ve been handed the controls to a plane
at some point, Laika decides it wants my awful drawing tattooed on its leg. this is the worst possible thing. i am being threatened with partial responsibility for something that will be (sort of) permanently etched on someone’s skin.
Laika and Lili are racing to register the domain on their phones. this makes me panic, but in retrospect it really shouldn’t have. i think it was the urgency of it that really got me! so i get my laptop from my bag and try desperately to do the same thing but faster.
i’ll spare you a more detailed description of the steps needed to do this, the gist is that using a computer in this state is unsurprisingly also hard, and regardless I decided it’d make Laika sad. so I stopped at the finish line.
Lili registered the domain, and even set it up to redirect to a picture of the drawing.
end.
I’m not high anymore. Three hours and three train connections, a bus ride, and I’m back home. I don’t feel responsible for a possible, yet-to-be-seen tattoo of something silly I drew, and mostly I’m just a bit embarassed with how melodramatic my internal monologue became.
It was still fun though, so I made a button. There it is. Thanks for a fun night.
Tuesday 25th November, 2025 • Ada
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