Hello Again, Peasants

Editor’s note: This is the third draft of the introduction to “The American Peasant.” It’s much closer to a polished piece of writing worth publishing. But it still has some rough spots (that joke about a “Fraiser” reboot won’t survive). Some sections will seem familiar. Some are completely new. The photos are some of my favorite sewer covers in Cincinnati.

This is a Witches Mark.

This book started with a handful of slimy dirt in an old German farmhouse. The “dirt” was the roots of psilocybin mushrooms that I’d purchased legally in a store in the Netherlands a few hours earlier. It was my first time with any drug stronger than alcohol, so the friendly store clerk guided me to a strain that was good for first-timers. And she gave specific instructions.

Instructions: Don’t eat for four hours beforehand. Eat the mushrooms quickly. Wait for the nausea to pass. Eat something. Then wait….

The roots were bitter, nasty and tasted nothing like mushrooms. I gagged them down and – sure enough – I im…