SCULLS & BONES (c27)
Concidering the addictivness, availability,health damage, price, sociall acceptance and the legall status, I would say it`s the nicotine, whose only attraction is in relieving the withdrawal caused by it.
Simple and brilliant- drug that enslaves you, without any true rewards, such
as a kick or a high, thus making it socially acceptable, since pleasure seeking
is still a raw spot, closely associated with sin and missbehaviour.
Second is probably alkohol, being the only drug that at the extreme
stages of withdrawal may be deadly, unless you get a drink to cure the lethal hangover. Then I would probably name some pain killers, such as Dexofen, which I personally found to be the most addictive and easiest to take a lethal overdose on or get a liver failure. Pain relieving dose is 2 pills, but allready on the first day I`ve taken 75 in a short succession, followed by 120 the next day.
Probably the crystall meth comes next and not the heroine-
since the opiates in themselves are not that damaging for once health, as long
as you are getting your regular fix and don`t overdose, you will be more or
less allright, while meth will turn one into a monster in quite a short time and
it`s rather easily produced and doesn`t cost much on the street. Luckily it`s not very common in Europe.
It is slightly personall, as I`ve mentioned before: I just don`t get high on heroine as most of the people do, while methamphetamine made me into a dedicated
user from the very first injection.
Trully devoted heroine junkeys speak of a mysticall place in the mountains of Afganistan or Iran, depending on who`s talking- it`s somewhat of a heroine Eldorado. It has it`s own small airport, for a few private jets, owned by a group of Europeans and Americans, who basically spend their lives there, taking the purest smack, basically non-stop. My opiate-palls were dreaming of one day leaving the civilisation and moving to this magicall place. This kind of devotion to a habit was allmost romantic and touching, yet it was basically a death wish, a suicide with sugar on top. I could understand it only in theory, never having experienced neither the true high nor a low of the heroine, despite doing it for years and years.
There is something romantic about this drug, I thought, imagining the beatnic poets, underground intellectualls, Curt Cobaine and Andy Warhol, all the tortured souls and burning hearts, seeking and failing to find the meaning.
My accointance just got his fix for about 200USD, which was enough to keep him ok untill tomorrow and shaking from both the onsetting withdrawall and eager expectation, he jumped on a buss for a long ride home. As in any city, most of the heavy drugs are dealt round the outskirts, in the poorer areas. Two stops later he got an uncontrollable diharrea and covered in shit had to get off the buss and take a taxi. Being kicked out of the severall cabs before finally getting home, he run into the shower and started preparing his fix, peacefully falling asleep in his own excriment on the bathroom floor, awakened later by his somewhat surprised mother.
The less romantic side of abusing “henry” or “chasing the dragon”, was still not
that bad, comparing to the beautifull 20-year old girls turning into psychotic, retarded hores, so worn from the meth, that they are unable to sell themselves for a 10 dollar fix.
I would have to sell my soul, to start pushing it, but as I`ve mentioned-
my KFC professof from the jail, would have probably started with just that,
to raise some quick cash for a decent lab and a house to cook some more advanced stuff in later. I guess I was being smart never to reistablish my connection with him.
I remember feeling suicidal, pushing hasch, cocaine, speed and tranquilisers,the “light” drugs in my book, which seemingly made people happy most of the time.
I can only imagine how I would have felt, seeing my close friends turning into zombies, yellowish-pale skeletons, covered with open sores, incoherent, shaking and begging me to sponsor just one fix. Pfew- that was a dodged bullet, and another confirmation that money wasn`t the prime reason for me dealing. It felt good to be a king pin, living in a party mode, constantly getting respect and gratitude- something that allowed me to forget how miserable I was, atleast for the time that I was not alone.
-(OD)-
As with allmost everything in my life I got off easy, when it comes to overdosing.
50 Rohypnolls with booze haven`t killed me even when I tried.
Heroine introveniously- my “main man”, being generous and fair, shared his fix 50/50 with me, about 5 milliliters of well concentrated solution each, disregarding the fact, that I was an opportunistic user, while he was trully deeply madly into it. As for me- I just didn`t care and was not about to say something as dumb as: “hey, could you please give me some… less?”, specially having payed the equivalent of 15 Happy Meals. I was determined to get happy, even if it killed me.
I just remember waking up 4 hours later, sitting in the most peculiar position, but for the most part feeling just fine. I may have stopped breathing for a minute or two, skipped some heart beats, but there I was, back amongst the living dead, populating his apartement.
I wondered if anyone had noticed my little death and if they had- would anyone have called the ambullans? Police would have to be informed by the medics, and some of them were hiding from the law. I imagined them taking heroine severall days in a row, besides a dicomposing body of… what`s his name? The Russian
guy! Finding the idea slightly amusing.
Cocaine introveniously- I was high as a kite, armed with a new gear, severall gramms of decent coke and with a freeloader on my back, I jumped on my moped and we drove off into the night towards the dark alleys of the city park. It took about 20 minutes to get there, when he started whining about another hit. I was still so, so high, having been taking cocaine for over a week in a row, that I literally saw flashes and lightnings infront of me. He, however just got his first line in months just a couple of hours ago and was a reall eager beaver. I was selling so much, that giving away some for free to the true connoisseurs felt allmost like a community servise. Having developed quite a tollerance, I seeked the new highs, by taking it introveniously, which my poorer friend insisted on doing as well. Problem is that taken this way, the initiall kick is so intense, yet short, that in comparison, the rest of the effect, despite being as potent as ever, feels like nothing speciall. So it went: stopping every 15-20 minutes for me to kook up a hit in a spoon, driving a bit and then again.
I came to lying on the asfalt, feeling like my heart was about to jump out of my throat, my arm was numb and I was dizzy. Must`ve passed out.
“Heart attack”- I though,- “Can one get it in their 20-es? No, couldn`t be- my arm is just numb from me lying on it… ”.
My coked up friend stood nearby, looking nervous. I knew he wouldn`t abandon me. That`s what friends are for!
-Hey, could we cook up just one more, please?- he said. You just fell down, you know…
-No shit, really? -I got up and made the last fix for the night. With some
caution this time, wondering if I`ve passed out while driving, as my moped was lying in the middle of the road on its side, however not interested enough to ask
my needle sharing pal.
Alkohol I was 13, having openly bought the cheapest port in the grossary store, after the school. Drunk it alone, while parents were at work. Tasted like it costed: less then 50 cents for 0,75 of what tasted like vinegar with sugar and 24% spirit. Good old Sovjet prices.
I`ve puked non stop for two whole days and nights, catching some hangovered sleep in beetween, waiting and wishing to die and swearing to myself and my parents that NEVER! Never again would I drink. I tried lying at first, blaming the school cafeteria, but fountains of dark red booze pouring out of me, must`ve tipped off my folks. To this day I drink the red wine only if there is absolutely nothing else available.
Much later, I`ve encountered a pfenomena that was completely unheard of in the Sovjets- there isn`t even a word for it in Russian. After moving to Sweden and drinking for over a decade daily, I`ve started to get what looked like epelepticall seisures.
At the beginning without a warning- I just woke up, time after time, dazed and confused, on the floor, surrounded by the terrifyed or disgusted looks of whom ever I was with when it happened. I was told that it looked as if I was being posessed, convulsing on the floor. I begun collapsing anywhere and everywhere, loosing my job, getting a couple of scars and multiple concussions. The attacs changed with the time, when I begun to be aware of the oncoming seisure 20 or so minutes prior. Terrifying ordeal, since, although being fully awake, I was unable to speak or even mime some answears to the worried people around me. I was feeling as my mind was slowly slipping from me, wanting to scream “help!” or atleas beg to hold my head, so it doesn`t hit the ground, yet able to pronounce only a few incoherent “um”s and “oh”s. During theese 20 or so minutes I could move freely, which I sometimes used to run and hide, regaining conciousness sometimes in the strangest of places.
I begun loosing my private belongings- basically I was waking upp with nothing: clothings, mobiles, wallets, passport, my bags- everything was gone.
Neurologist said: it`s because of alkohol and he was right. As soon as I`ve stopped drinking, the seisures dissapeared within a week.
“But Doc, it can`t be the booze, since I never get `em as loong as I`m buzzed. It`s when I don`t drink, that it happenes”- I noted cinserely.
He laughed, promicing to share my dumb remark with his collegues.
Ecstasy No scary storries there: I`ve partyed till I`ve puked and I liked puking on ecstasy- it was like body clensing, quick and easy. However as a public announcement: don`t forget to drink the fluids and don`t dance as if you are invincible- do rest.
Well one small thing happened to me after a few years. I suspect the MDMA to be at fault- as I`ve mentioned, I seem to have depleted my dopamine reserves, thus unable to experience the kinds of pleasure, associated with this hormone. It was my carelessness and ignorance, that made me take 9 pills in a row. That`s just what I did in those days- pushed the limits.
Majority made it just fine and now have nothing more than a few fond memories from the Rave era. As for me- it`s very possible that I will never be able to feel love again. No grief either, seems like, since I`m just not emotionally attached to anything. I don`t want to die, for example, but had I been told that I will be executed in an hour- it wouldn`t be bothered too much.
Hasch oil, LSD, Psilocybine, DMT & Seige Never got an overdose. Maybe threw up an occasioanall rainbow, but nothing to sweat about.
Just one thing scared me to death- when I`ve taken cocaine during an LSD tripp. It was my disliking of the coke perhaps, but I felt like I`ve commited something sacreligious.
I loved to mix psilocybine with amphetamine, yet this was different. All of my friends seemd just fine, having taken the same combo, while I was sitting there, feeling like
I`ve commited the ultimate sin and allmost hearing a demonic vioce in my head:
“Well, now you`ve done it, boy! Now you are mine!”
Followed by the feeling of the utter doom, dissipating a couple of hours later, yet leaving me with a personall lesson about mixing those two opposites. The ultimate
drug to build up your ego (coke) and the one to tear it down (acid).
The happy pills I don`t know exactly why, but I`ve allways strongly resisted the antidepressants, despite all of the advertisement from the people who were allready hooked on them. Theese included all of my relatives in Sweden.
It was allmost nightmarish: I was imagining them standing at my door and with the beyond the grave voices saying “Join us, Alexej, join us…” For some reason I trusted my dealers alot more than a doctor and would rather take “hey- here is some powder, I found: dont`t know what it is though…”, than the DEA approved Prozac. However I would soon be forced to.
After escaping from the jail and partying for a month, I`ve returned and was transfered to one of the harshest prisons in the country. It didn`t bother me,
untill I was put in the isolation cell there for doing drugs.
After a couple of days in a dark cell, with no TV or books, coupeled with a hefty withdrawall, I announced to the guards that I was going to kill myself. Unexpectedly I was immidiately released and put in a transparent glass cell, called “aquarium” with a 24/7 supervision. There weren`t even the bed sheets and the whole thing felt surreall. The same day I`ve been forced to swallow severall antidepressants, followed by more and more of the same. Three days later I was allowed to take a shower, when I noticed that I can no longer stand on my feet. The whole body was trembeling, as if I had the Parkinson`s. I tried to remember what I knew about the drugs I was fed and the Parkinsosns and came to the conclusion that both temper with the serotonin, thus my parkinson`s like symptoms must`ve been caused by the medication. I was dragged to the shower room by two guards, holding me on each side, put on the floor and sprayed with some water for a few minutes.
It looked so bad, that I`ve managed to convince the lokall doctor not to give me anymore of the happy pills. I was happy enough, being allowed to join the rest of the convicts on the third floor.
So I guess the most debilitating drug experience of my life, was induced by what has become a legall lifestyle drug, a mind doping.
That`s most of my close encounters with the dark side and now I`m happily residing in my sober limbo, enjoying the occasionall lighter shades of grey.
God damn, sir? Woman? Child?
This seems to be a lot heavier than I ever would have thought. Very interresting reading I must say. However a bit disturbing since, only after a few minutes of reading, I could feel a strong urge to participate and join in on the next available drug safari.
Where do you buy the tickets?
“Wait until you see those god damn bats man!!”-H.S Thompsson
/J
, Thanx- you made my day-really. Keep on reading and you will get the answears to where I get my tickets, if by them you mean LSD. And if you do mean acid- check out the chapter below, called “It`s all in your head”.
Thanx AGAIN