Dear Marcus,

I like to get high before writing involved letters. And, as I was doing bong hits just now, the eighth one in five minutes (I think), the sucking and gurgling reminded me of snorkeling. I usually call the bong, "The Magic Saxophone," like, I'll be telling someone a story as we're smoking, and I'll pause the talk: 'Hold on, let me play a tune on the magic saxophone.' I'll take in a cylinder of white, then continue my story, with a few more tangents than I intended at the beginning. But yeah, the snorkel: When I was 15, we floated in the pool for days before our vacation to Mexico which is, still, the only time I've left the country. Maureen and I took to snorkels quickly, though the masks squeezed and bruised the bridge of the nose, between the eyes. "You guys have to practice." My dad kept saying, but we immediately knew how. Simple process: breath through the tube, if you dive under, the tube fills with water. If the tube fills with water, conjure the last scraps of air in your lungs, rise to the surface, force the quick mass of air out like a whale. Then collect a fresh breath.

My dad was irritating in his disbelief: "Do you know how to do it?" He asked, every time he joined us at the pool. "Show me." But we'd showed him a couple weeks ago. Taught him actually. But he still doubted us. And when he stopped doubting, the phrase: "Hey! You've gotten really good at that," wanted me to meet it with, "I was good all along. From the first time!"

And when vacation came, and the small boat pulled away into Mexican waters, with two, Spanish-only, 13-year-old-boys at the helm: only I could hang with the kids underwater. Only I could hold my breath long enough to follow the little brown kids down, 25-feet, and linger on the bottom a couple seconds, before racing them to the surface and conjuring the scraps of air, blowing out the access saltwater like second nature.

And before I started this letter, when I was sucking smoke from my gurgling yellow bong, I thought about my success with snorkeling, and I wondered how well I'm succeeding, with whatever it is I'm doing now.

Take care,
commonplace