The Wikipedia entry for K-hole is in need of some good citations. Claims that a k-hole surfer is interested only in “the shape of [his] hands” and “experienc[es] psychic connections, and shared hallucinations and thoughts with adjacent users” are too subjective, even for the collaborative reference site. How long does it last? Where do you go during it? What parts of the brain would light up, if I had a machine that could light up such things?
Probably the part that deals with when happens when “one’s body is gliding on silk, flying, or has grown very large or distended.”
Why am I reading the Wikipedia entry for K-hole on this crisp Thursday afternoon, you may ask, when outside there are no clouds in the flat sky above and there is a chubby squirrel hanging from the topmost branch of a tree that is swaying in the breeze, and all of this is visible via the skylight in the living room and should be marveled upon for the remaining hours of daylight?
I will tell you, Gentle Reader. My most precious NerdBird pup had to have four teeth extracted today (she never lost her baby teeth–they were “rooted firm,” the vet assured me, making some jerking motion with his wrist) and the cocktail they gave her to alleviate the pain was morphine, valium, and ketamine.
Maybe you will remember ketamine if you ever went to college or a rave party. The guy in the corner who’s rocking back and forth and muttering something about the meat hooks in the ceiling? And drawing a circle with his finger in the air over and over? That’s the guy on ketamine.
When I picked her up at vet, she was crying like the squeaky toy she so often punishes by slamming it against the wall. She was nauseous. And now my innocent Nerd is fascinated with her own paw, whimpering and rubbing it with her nose for the past twenty minutes. Also she’s shivering.
“Normal,” the vet said. And the crying? “Normal.” And the paw-chewing? “Totes normal, for sure.”
And Nerd set her head down on my shoulder with a great amount of Love in her eyes and threw up, down the back of my coat and onto the white tiled floor. I thought, “Oh my, I am just about ready for that baby, aren’t I.”
But I tell you what. When my kids want to get high, I’ll say, “Look at that fat squirrel up there and wonder about where he came from, and what he’s thinking, and also notice how sometimes the sky takes on that particular quality where it feels like walls and a ceiling, and you’re in a big room called Outside, and everybody’s inside this room that you could almost pierce with your finger if you reached far enough.”
That will mess you up enough.