stoned; ramblings; fucked;
the other night during a conversation, a good friend of mine who doesn’t take pills asked me why i took ecstasy. i plainly struggled to articulate my emotions, without it sounding like a glowing info-mercial or a guilty justification of ecstasy. which frustrated and intrigued me nonetheless.
which logically led me to ponder for myself the reason(s) i do take e. this line of thought is not new to me, i have been flicking it around my drug use for years like a cat with a dead mouse. It has been a progression of analyses of what really makes me tick. after all, taking drugs usually strikes at the heart of what makes us happy, sad, laugh and cry pretty quickly. it is the stimulus to a response. it’s the reason and the answer and the problem.
i’ve come to realise that for me e is a release (an escape?).
what about me? educated, rewarded, rounded, secure, sated. but occasionally i take e to get away from it.
so why?
well, that’s a bit harder isn’t it. i am a firm believer in what the dalai llama says about happiness, in that if you compare yourself to other people you will never truly be happy. that’s not to say we don’t all do it in some small way or another (consciously ot otherwise), but hanging your self image in direct competition to what the world puts on display in the shop window is a dangerous process. so, i don’t take e to improve my self image, happiness, confidence or other. but that’s not to say i don’t enjoy the leg up it gives me in these areas at the same time.
reverting to old tricks (something i ALWAYS do to prospective girlfriends), i looked at my bookshelf at home and wrote down the books i’ve loved the most, and it doesn’t take sigmund freud to start to join the dots. a selection of faves?- hunter s thompson, kesey, kerouac. what made their stories affecting, intoxicating, and liberating for me? it was their very prescence, which naturally disagreed with everything society threw at them as important at the time. morals, possessions, authority didn’t add up for these guys. they weren’t born with these attitudes, but they were forced to rail against them by the very unique nature of the blood in their veins. you see it’s that unintentional inability to fit "into the programming" (apologies vietvet) which holds me fascinated. certain people walk to a completely different remix than most. the anti-norm. counter-conformist. weird fuckers
just to qualify that i’m not comparing myself to these people, just what attracts me to their persona’s.
so it’s this freedom that these guys seems to capture (although at the time i’m sure middle america considered them mad). but freedom from what? i’m not oppressed. i’m as apathetic as the next australian (sorry, the oz tourism commission likes to call it "laid back ocker charm"). i’m not trapped by a mortgage or relationship or contract. i’m educated and empowered to excercise free will. i’m financially secure, enough to pack up and travel for a couple of years. i choose to do the work i do. i choose to stay on the left hand side of the road. friend or not, my choice. eat that meat pie, toss a coin. another beer, think i will.
so where am i escaping to? well, it’s like a void really. a place with no noise. just me. selfish i know. you must know it too. the feeling when you are on the dancefloor, with the music and lasers and people just going nuts until it almost gets too much and you clench your eyes shut. youve lost identity, and purposeful consciousness. you notice your scalp is sweating. That helps, and you relax. with your eyes closed you suddenly really notice the bass. fluffy and edible. and the bass melts into vibrations which buzz your skin like the fluttering of millions of little bee wings. you could be anywhere. you probably are. then you don’t notice the bass but now your tuned to that irregular snare roll that hits on the left and slides to the right. it sounds wide. that’s gone too and your left with the synthesised beats, which clamour for a moment within chaos before your brain grabs the snapping hose. now you’ve got the irregular bleeps and bleats syncopating until they fade out. and all that goes and it’s just quiet. spooky, brilliant quiet. a cocoon, a womb. you can still feel the music and energy but they are less a reality than the void now in which is your primary environment. your mind is unrestrained but it doesn’t want to go anywhere...
your own little world. fortress, whatever. it’s a curious place, and i’m getting better at finding with all sorts of drugs and exploring. i’m finding out alot about myself in the process, some good some bad. i may have my head up my arse literally but at least i understand and control the process.
so yeah, for me i think it’s about the quiet. the freedom and the escape. a state i’m learning to find with meditation rather than drugs, but certainly a place i don’t think i would have found without drugs. ive always experimented in moderation with drugs. "breadth not depth" is a quote my mate always uses to define my drugtaking resume. so it looks like my drug taking is becoming more introverted. less time running around massaging strangers and asking them questions, more time massaging my own brain and prodding it for some answers.
and in a way i see why there are candy kids. i’m kinda there myself, a cerebral candy kid, regressing mentally, lessening the noise, finding a simpler place. looking for those memories i’ve locked away, the imagination i’ve conditioned from me. it’s locked away well. but we only put good locks on things that are valuable.
so what about you, whispering reader...
are you killing pain? does it help you to forget?
are you seeking to belong? do you need to feel?
are you looking for yourself? does e get you closer?
are you capturing your youth? do you bathe in false imagination?
are you escaping your youth? can you push through the wait?
pinger
curiousity is the lust of the mind- someone
the other night during a conversation, a good friend of mine who doesn’t take pills asked me why i took ecstasy. i plainly struggled to articulate my emotions, without it sounding like a glowing info-mercial or a guilty justification of ecstasy. which frustrated and intrigued me nonetheless.
which logically led me to ponder for myself the reason(s) i do take e. this line of thought is not new to me, i have been flicking it around my drug use for years like a cat with a dead mouse. It has been a progression of analyses of what really makes me tick. after all, taking drugs usually strikes at the heart of what makes us happy, sad, laugh and cry pretty quickly. it is the stimulus to a response. it’s the reason and the answer and the problem.
i’ve come to realise that for me e is a release (an escape?).
what about me? educated, rewarded, rounded, secure, sated. but occasionally i take e to get away from it.
so why?
well, that’s a bit harder isn’t it. i am a firm believer in what the dalai llama says about happiness, in that if you compare yourself to other people you will never truly be happy. that’s not to say we don’t all do it in some small way or another (consciously ot otherwise), but hanging your self image in direct competition to what the world puts on display in the shop window is a dangerous process. so, i don’t take e to improve my self image, happiness, confidence or other. but that’s not to say i don’t enjoy the leg up it gives me in these areas at the same time.
reverting to old tricks (something i ALWAYS do to prospective girlfriends), i looked at my bookshelf at home and wrote down the books i’ve loved the most, and it doesn’t take sigmund freud to start to join the dots. a selection of faves?- hunter s thompson, kesey, kerouac. what made their stories affecting, intoxicating, and liberating for me? it was their very prescence, which naturally disagreed with everything society threw at them as important at the time. morals, possessions, authority didn’t add up for these guys. they weren’t born with these attitudes, but they were forced to rail against them by the very unique nature of the blood in their veins. you see it’s that unintentional inability to fit "into the programming" (apologies vietvet) which holds me fascinated. certain people walk to a completely different remix than most. the anti-norm. counter-conformist. weird fuckers
just to qualify that i’m not comparing myself to these people, just what attracts me to their persona’s.
so it’s this freedom that these guys seems to capture (although at the time i’m sure middle america considered them mad). but freedom from what? i’m not oppressed. i’m as apathetic as the next australian (sorry, the oz tourism commission likes to call it "laid back ocker charm"). i’m not trapped by a mortgage or relationship or contract. i’m educated and empowered to excercise free will. i’m financially secure, enough to pack up and travel for a couple of years. i choose to do the work i do. i choose to stay on the left hand side of the road. friend or not, my choice. eat that meat pie, toss a coin. another beer, think i will.
so where am i escaping to? well, it’s like a void really. a place with no noise. just me. selfish i know. you must know it too. the feeling when you are on the dancefloor, with the music and lasers and people just going nuts until it almost gets too much and you clench your eyes shut. youve lost identity, and purposeful consciousness. you notice your scalp is sweating. That helps, and you relax. with your eyes closed you suddenly really notice the bass. fluffy and edible. and the bass melts into vibrations which buzz your skin like the fluttering of millions of little bee wings. you could be anywhere. you probably are. then you don’t notice the bass but now your tuned to that irregular snare roll that hits on the left and slides to the right. it sounds wide. that’s gone too and your left with the synthesised beats, which clamour for a moment within chaos before your brain grabs the snapping hose. now you’ve got the irregular bleeps and bleats syncopating until they fade out. and all that goes and it’s just quiet. spooky, brilliant quiet. a cocoon, a womb. you can still feel the music and energy but they are less a reality than the void now in which is your primary environment. your mind is unrestrained but it doesn’t want to go anywhere...
your own little world. fortress, whatever. it’s a curious place, and i’m getting better at finding with all sorts of drugs and exploring. i’m finding out alot about myself in the process, some good some bad. i may have my head up my arse literally but at least i understand and control the process.
so yeah, for me i think it’s about the quiet. the freedom and the escape. a state i’m learning to find with meditation rather than drugs, but certainly a place i don’t think i would have found without drugs. ive always experimented in moderation with drugs. "breadth not depth" is a quote my mate always uses to define my drugtaking resume. so it looks like my drug taking is becoming more introverted. less time running around massaging strangers and asking them questions, more time massaging my own brain and prodding it for some answers.
and in a way i see why there are candy kids. i’m kinda there myself, a cerebral candy kid, regressing mentally, lessening the noise, finding a simpler place. looking for those memories i’ve locked away, the imagination i’ve conditioned from me. it’s locked away well. but we only put good locks on things that are valuable.
so what about you, whispering reader...
are you killing pain? does it help you to forget?
are you seeking to belong? do you need to feel?
are you looking for yourself? does e get you closer?
are you capturing your youth? do you bathe in false imagination?
are you escaping your youth? can you push through the wait?
pinger
curiousity is the lust of the mind- someone
