This morning on a drive home I listened to Jefferson Airplane's White Rabbit on high volume, and tried to reimagine the hypnotic power it once held over me, when under the moderate influence of cannabis. As I heard the steady drumbeat, Gracie Slick's almost mesmerizing voice, and the imagery conveyed by the lyrics, I said to myself something like, "I see how it can lead one down a rabbit-hole." And for the first time in all these years, I made the connection between Lewis Carroll's rabbit and the hole Alice fell down, and that common expression of going down a rabbit-hole. Only took me 60 years to make that connection.
I may be slow, but at least I'm cute.
I may be slow, but at least I'm cute.