Quote:
Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
I need to take acid again, and quickly.
The hash... its good. But its made me a smilin fool. I felt like a dim child last night, giggling like an imbecile while rewatching Colbert Reports and A.Developments on my couch, nursing a bottle of Grand Marnier 100 yr recipe (good shit... in laws brought it back from the islands for me... Can’t find it in Pa).
Has it come to this? Life in a snifter, sucking black tar smoke through a Red Bull can in my backyard, checking to make sure the neighbor isn’t eyeing me up while having his fourth evening smoke? Maybe it’s a good thing... Keeps his goddamned kids out of my yard.
I need the Big Brain Scramble again... No fount of new material in my actual reality. So bored. So very very bored.
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It's too late for you, my friend. If you think you can dabble with high grade hallucinogens at this point in your life cycle without disastrous consequences, it only confirms how long you have been out of the weirdness game. You need to keep one foot in that circle if you want to be able to dive back into the freak water without getting a permanent case of the Big Heebie Jeebies. I don't think you can even remember where the circle is. Your instinct that you need to clean out the cobwebs is dead on, but you gently squeeze a drop of that liquid onto your tongue and the next thing you know, it will be thirty six hours later, and you will have barricaded yourself in your bedroom, and you will be staring at the collars of your dress shirts muttering "The spread has betrayed me . . . betrayed me!" and weeping uncontrollably while behind you all of your best ties have been laid out on your floor to spell the words "SLOW DEATH." Best case scenario is that you end up a born again evangelical type preaching gibberish on some New Jersey boardwalk. Stick with the hash and the Comedy Central, man. It's not pushing the envelope, but it's comfortable, and it beats a stiff Atlantic wind blowing across the boardwalk in early February.
