Back when I was a teenager one of my favorite words was “cosmic.” It’s kind of embarrassing now, but I’m sure you had your own silly colloquialisms, so no harm done. I remember many “cosmic” moments in the adolescent years: like when Craig and I wandered up to Grand Boulevard and were hammered to the quick by a thought that strikes everyone at one time or another, normally when you’re 16 and a little bit high.
“Hey, when you look at blue and I look at blue, how can we know if we’re seeing the same thing?”
“Well, because… um… yeah, wow. That’s cosmic.”
“Wait, how would you describe red, like, if you couldn’t call it red?”
“It’s hot. Blue’s cold. But still… you could be seeing what I’d call green or purple and still say that. To really know I’d have to be inside your head. Or you’d have to be inside mine.”
“Man, that’s cosmic.”
Or then there was the time that Kathy — after holding a long hit of Leroy St. Purple — exhaled and said, “Infinity is… Incredible.”