I Went to PRIMARK and a Museum while Tripping on Magic Truffles
It was probably not a good idea
Today I ate two little magic truffle capsules for breakfast with my coffee. I thought I would see it if it helped me crack on with the freelance air-conditioning copy project. I still don’t know how I managed to get the job, considering I was tripping balls in the interview. I’m sure they knew something was up.
Maybe it’s just that no one else wants to write about their air-conditioners? Better to take the woman on mushrooms than no one at all?
Anyway, it could’ve been the magic truffles kicking in, but I sat with why the project feels so dreadful to me and came to the conclusion that it just doesn’t seem very useful.
I guess air-conditioners are useful, what with global warming and all that, but don’t air-conditioners contribute to global warming, too?
What is this paradox I’m tangled in? What am I doing with my life?!
The sun was bright outside the window. The street outside opened its arms and said ‘forget about all that, come out and play!’ So I thought, f**k it, I’ll go out and do something useful.
I never actually thought until my coat was pulled on and I was halfway down the stairs that I should probably stop procrastinating and get on with the work.
Maybe I took too much again?
I pedalled furiously through the park, feeling the microdose flushing my cheeks; the heat of it tingling in waves of wondrous new energy. Damn, this feels goooooood.
‘Don’t drink and drive!’, I wanted to shout. ‘Take magic truffles and fly!’
But that would have been grossly irresponsible, and would likely have gotten me arrested, even though I made the capsules legally myself. So I basked in the silence of Peace and Serenity, lacing like two snakes around my bicycle.
Even an idiot on a skateboard who made me brake too hard didn’t phase me: ‘Today is a magical day!’
I admit the world was a bit squiggly when I returned a skirt to PRIMARK. That’s just how I interpreted useful as I left my apartment. It’s not like I could fly to the Serengeti and pick up trash, I had to meet a friend at 5.
I stood in the doorway and wondered whether this cavernous soup of consumerism and clothing assembled by teenage labourors would dampen my spirits.
It did not.
Swapping the skirt for the exact same one in a rainbow print, I considered that maybe my eyes were seeing the colours a little differently thanks to the magic truffles, but who cares — how it glistened and shone!
While I queued up, an Asian lady was paying at the register, simultaneously snapping photos of the exchange. She’d also picked out the rainbow skirt. Click click click went her phone, while the cashier rang up €210 on the register. Both of them were delighted.
On another day, I might have rolled my eyes and snarled something under my breath about her holding up the queue. But today I was floaty light. PRIMARK is not always an emporium of slavery and future car boot sale items. Sometimes, it’s a wonderland.
I wondered how far this lady had come to buy these clothes. Why did a polka-dot bra and a lip balm and 35 different hair ties mean so much to this woman? Who was she?
As she faffed about and held me up, I thought, you know what would be weird? If I bumped into this lady somewhere and we were wearing the same rainbow skirt, and we became friends because of it. We’d always have this story about how we met in the line at PRIMARK even though we didn’t actually meet.
We could start a charity together and be useful.
At the very least we could share a car boot sale stall sometime and get rid of all this PRIMARK sh*t.
The lady tottered off to the streets of Amsterdam with her shopping bags and all my unrequited friendship goals. The store and the world felt much darker when she left. I thought to myself, maybe I should go to a museum?
Yeah, a museum in the day, that would be fun. What a f***ing great day!
The Stedelijk Museum was packed with everything I didn’t understand. Whereas on another day I might have just done a quick lap to say I’d been there, surely today was the day I would gain a real appreciation of modern art?
I laughed for about ten minutes at a woman’s gnarling facial expression, projected onto the face of a doll. The doll was pinned to the floor by a chair.
I laughed for another five minutes on my own at a giant ant covered in fuzzy felt, and a line of empty cabinets nailed to a wall in a huge empty room.
I don’t even know how long I stared at a psychedelic swirl of 1960s street art; it was calling to me.
I’d love to say I left finally understanding modern art, but even though I read the little info card things, it was still as confusing as the air-conditioning units waiting for me to write about back home. I definitely think I took too much of the magic. But it was a damn good afternoon.
I could feel the microdose wearing off at around 4.30pm. Peace and Serenity slithered off into a canal as I cycled in the cold to the Foodhallen to meet my friend.
The Foodhallen is Dutch for ‘food hall’ (you’re welcome), and it’s rammed with stalls selling everything from sushi to burritos to teeny slices of cake. Everything except magic truffles.
There’s even an indoor roof terrace that boasts an empty swimming pool. People like to sit in it — I don’t know why.
There’s a gin and tonic bar with extortionate prices, and sometimes there’s live music on a stage that looks like it’s been crafted from beer crates. Once you’ve experienced Foodhallen, the fumes of hipster extravagance linger in your clothing for days.
Two women sat at the other end of my bench. One of them was about 25 and obviously well-travelled. I could tell because she had many, many, many bracelets on.
Way too many bracelets — you know when they go right up your forearm? Festivals, concerts, Hindi trinkets, Nepalese love breads, Indian wedding bands…
I imagined them all dipping into pots of leftover pasta, and scraping against public bathroom sinks, and brushing up to water fountains that dogs drink from, too.
She kept jiggling the bench when she talked. I had to bite my cheeks. I had to dig really deep for alignment. I told myself off for thinking she was doing it on purpose… but how dare she bring all those germs in here on her bangles?!
Oh sweet psilocybin, why did you leave me? We were conquering the world together. Everything looked better when you were inside me.
OK, so PRIMARK looked better. And the doll with a chair on its head looked better, but it was a very nice day until miss jiggly-germ-hands here showed up.
I didn’t do much work though.
By the time my friend arrived and we’d queued for our 8 euro hot dogs I was feeling rather guilty about a day spent floating on a lazy-river of refreshing equanimity.
I think next time I only need one magic truffle microdose capsule… which was actually what was recommended. Two was silly. And a bit greedy. Definitely only one for me next time. One might take me to the point of concentration. Two made me dreamy and ditzy and unable to absorb a screen.
And there was a bit of visual distortion in PRIMARK.
But before the magic departed, it was remarkably easy to disassociate with any negative feelings. Any time something vaguely irritating or depressing set in, the notion was off on the wind again before I could dwell on it.
Two (that’s 0.6 grams in total) would definitely be a nice dosage for a nature walk with friends, or something else outdoors away from strangers. You might get some bright ideas, or at least a new appreciation for ugly clothing chains, depending on what you choose to do with your day.
It won’t spark much desire to write about air-conditioning units, though, I can tell you that much for certain.
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