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Heaven And Hell (work in progress)
Topic Started: Feb 25 2009, 11:11 AM (245 Views)
BlenderCat
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Introduction

First off, if you've never done drugs, and you have absolutely no interest in them whatsoever, you can stop reading right now. It won't get much more interesting. What follows is as absolutely honest a description of a bad trip as is possible. The most honest and thorough I've ever attempted to write. Some things I either blacked out that night or have subsequently blocked out of my memory in the proceeding years. A lot of it stays with you though. I've been asked by a couple of people as of late if I thought they should try the psychedelic hallucinogen LSD - 25, colloquially known as acid. I have never, now will I ever either condemn or endorse the recreational use of LSD. It's a personal choice, like doing any drug. However if someone told me they were thinking of shooting up Heroin, I might just hit them. Just like if someone asked me about trying weed, I'd probably tell them to go right on ahead. Acid is different though. It's not physically or even psychologically addictive. It's also extremely difficult to overdose on. You just have to realize that this it not a fucking toy. Be prepared for the unexpected, and know that this will NOT be like anything you've ever encountered or even imagined. At the very least, make sure you're prepared to treat your brain like an amusement park ride for, at the very minimum, eight hours.

There's no real way to describe its effects to someone who's never taken it without sounding like Jimi Hendrix when he kind of "went off" during that Isle of Wright interview. I will tell you the facts, as least as far as I know them. I'm not gonna give you some kind of transcendental hippy flower power description either. I've had plenty of those experiences too. Why else would I have done it so much? No, what follows is a trip into hell. Worse than that in fact. Far worse than anything I could have possibly comprehended before that night. To just read the description, you might wonder why I'm hyperbolizing so much. You just had to have been there I guess, experiencing everything through my senses. But I'm glad you weren't. It's not anything I would wish on my worst enemy.

One last word of caution... Don't take too much. There's no going back once the effects start, and there's no running away from an acid trip. It's best for 1st timers to take a low dose (no more than two hits, one to be safe) and to have someone around who's experienced in psychedelics but who's not necessarily tripping himself at the time. This definitely saved my ass. Now obviously a few micrograms of a chemical soaked into a piece of blotter paper can't contain evil. This came from somewhere else. Where? I'm not entirely sure. Either the acid opened something up inside my mind, allowing external evil to to enter, temporarily taking over, or all of this was internal, hiding in the dark crevices of my unconscious. I'm not sure which prospect scares me more.

Backstory

It's sometime around December 1996 and I'm a senior in highschool. I'm 17 years old and I've done the usual (at least usual for me and the people I hung out with) assortment of weed, pills, drinking, and cigarettes for about a year now. LSD seemed like the next obvious choice. Now, during that time period, in the neighborhood where I lived, it was literally easier to get your hands on acid than it was on weed. Good stuff too. 5 bucks a hit, 2 hits and you'll trip. Which is exactly what I did about 2 weeks previous. I took 2 hits and tripped my balls off. It was one of the most beautiful experiences I'd ever had in my life. The room was literally alive with color. The wood grained paneling on the ceiling looked like flowing rivers. Colors took on an almost pastel hue and kept changing from one to the other. The carpet waved in the wind. The floral patterns spun around in circles and crawled across the walls. The furniture seemed to "float" back and forth across the room on the carpety ocean. I'd put it right up there with FINALLY getting laid. Better in fact because the chick was kinda gross, not to mention that fact that I would still be a virgin for about 2 more years. Are you done laughing now? Can I finish the rest of my story? Like I was saying, my first experience was so mind-blowingly beautiful, I decided for my next adventure I'd grow some balls and take 3. BAD IDEA!!! My balls got snipped in a hurry. That was the first and the last time I ever took that much. LSD made me her bitch that night. I've known people who can take up to a ten strip and still not be catapulted to the other side like I was. Well, I've seen the other side, and it wasn't pleasant. Two things happened that night: I gained a healthy respect for LSD and I also came face to face with true evil. Don't get me wrong, I love to trip. Maybe it's just that my brain can't take the drug in massive quantities. Or maybe it was just some reeeaaally strong acid. At any rate, I saw things that night that I don't think humans are really meant to see. Experienced things that I don't really think humans are meant to experience.

---------------------------------
I have known this feeling before
Though not nearly as often
As I should like
We were in fact just curious children
At that blessed moment of inception
Breathing the liquid air
Searching out new planes of existence
Uncharted excursions of mind
Blending mind and spirit
Splitting sense and reason into
Terminally divided camps
Never to be fully reconciled
By mere intellect
The most unfathomable sight imaginable
Really
Watching the boundaries melt
Behind blooming eyelids
Spilling over with warm color
To swirl about cold dumb feet
Supporting flimsy limbs
Fusing our very bones into fragile silence
Shaving off the edges of space
Peeling back the corners of time
Witnessing infinity
Just a peak
Just enough to glimpse the
Inner workings of reality
Which men have never been
Permitted to see
It was all too much
Wasn’t it
Too much to take in
In one gulp
And swallow whole
We did not fully understand
It all at the time
We could only smile
Slowly to ourselves
Like gods even
We felt like gods
Didn’t we
And we were in a way
Rattling the chains of our cage
Holding the key to eternity
In the palm of our hand
Without even realizing it
Only…

Getting Ready

The Supplies - There weren't many of them. Six hit of blotter acid (3 for both me and Brent), 1 joint, a 12 pack of beer, and the videotape "Don't Be a Menace to South Central While You're Drinking Your Juice in the Hood."I'm pretty sure it was the same acid I had taken before. Brent brought along the joint. For some reason it took us over a week just to score a 12 pack. The movie comes into play later on in the story and can almost be considered a character in its own right. I'm never watching the movie again. As a side note, if you ever plan on watching a movie while you're tripping, make sure you have a coaxial cable. Don't do like I did and end up drive to Walmart in the middle of the night while you're tripping your balls off.

The Characters - Me, Brent, and Nick. Brent was to be a fellow voyager that night. He was about a year older than me and he had tripped before a few times. In other words, he was experienced. He was of no help that night however. Nick was about a year younger. He was also experienced but wasn't tripping that night. I'm glad he wasn't too. Whether he knows it or not, I'm indebted to him for life. He was able to keep his cool that night and talk me down. He pulled through when I needed him the most. He literally became my God.

The Stage - The same place I tripped last time. Same wood paneled ceilings, same floral-patterned walls. Same everything. It's the same trailer I'm living in now as a matter of fact. Only at the time I didn't own it. My parents were using it as an office to their mobile home (trailer) park. They weren't there though. The park is kind of out in the country and secluded. There are cowfields just about every direction you look, and at the time you could still see all the Christmas decorations blinking on and off, dispersing an orgy of red, green, and yellow light across the night sky.

What Went Wrong

I'm still not exactly sure what all transpired last night. But following me instance tell me that whatever it was, she was sure she wasn't. According to the acid guru Timothy Leary, the two most important things that will affect your trip are your "set" and your "setting," your set being your mental state going into a trip, and your setting being the actual physical environment in which you're tripping. I don't remember being in any kind of unusual frame of mind or being in a bad mood or anything like that prior to dropping. And like I stated earlier, aside from the people there, the setting was exactly the same as the previous trip. I could tell pretty early on however that something wasn't quite right; that this was going to be something very different from the amazing transcendental experience I had before. Perhaps there is no real reason. Perhaps my number had just come up. Perhaps I'm just naturally too emotionally and/or mentally unstable to begin with for large quantities of LSD. Or perhaps Timothy Leary was simply full of shit. I really doesn't matter why anymore. The fact is, it happened. And no, it didn't keep me from trying it again. I've tripped many times since then in fact. But it taught me respect. And it taught me to never take any more than I was willing to pay the consequences for. Trust me, you don't want to be curled up into a ball on the floor with a voice incessantly repeating in your ear "too much man, you took too much."

The Drop

It was sometime in the late evening when I picked up Brent in my 1979 puke-green Chevrolet Impala affectionately know as "Green Lightning."

I lie awake in bed for I don't know how long. The room looks familiar but I'm still not convinced. Seems like some place I've been before. Maybe when I was a kid. Letters and numbers of every shape and size, every sound and color spin wildly around the room in huge concentric rings; surge through my body one by one, infused with every emotion imaginable; vague longings, desires, fears, hopes, dreams, disappointments, etc, all crumpled like tissue paper. Fear, love, grief, lust, terror, hope, anger, passion, etc... Are they really all that different? Why be so biased in favor of one and not the other? After all, doesn't it all equal out to the same thing in the end? Some hearbreaks, some love affairs, a dream shattered, a wish fulfilled. A few peaks, a few valleys. All to what end? Don't we all live simply to exist? For how long? No more than an instant surely. Billions of us. Fighting, fucking, eating, shitting, getting sick, falling in love, crying over a loved one... We think it's all so important don't we? "There is only one thought. There is only one soul. "We" don't matter. Only the machine matters. Only the machine exists. Just this one gigantic, living, breathing, multiplying, dying, regenerating machine. Forming and reforming since the beginning of time. Can't you see there's no end in sight? No way to jump off the ride. We're stuck for better or for worse riding the same carousel around and around and around until we become seasick. Until we finally see the ride for what it is. Something will remind us of where we are; what we're doing; where we're going. Then the panic sets in. But we always find some cool little toy, some happy little distraction to fill our hearts with just enough hope to wait it out a little while longer. We may have even successfully convinced ourselves that there is indeed something out there. Something that cares about us and us only. Some eternal star-gazer there to witness and record for all posterity, validating our existence. Is it internal or external? Is it everywhere or everywhere and nowhere at the same time? I'll say this much, whatever it is, It's unattainable. It doesn't matter what it is. So long as we don't give up the fight. So long as we have something to give it all some kind of purpose, whatever purpose that is. Sure we'll have our joys and our tragedies, our triumphs and our failures. But those come and go. Tell me this. What use is happiness; what's the point of sorrow if this is all there is? They only serve to perpetuate the illusion. These thoughts, this body, those people, that act; it's all just an illusion. One great big glob of isness consuming then regurgitating everything that gets in it's way. One indivisible whole within which lie an infinite number of parts, each one identical to the whole, all able to assume an infinite number of identities, each one more veiled and puzzling than the one before. An infinite number of variables that are somehow all liked. Somehow all planned out. But isn't it all just one and the same? Isn't it exactly the same? No difference between thought and action. Between me and him. Between Good and Evil. Between sound and color. Between birth and death. Between form and essence. No difference between infinity and nothingness. No boundaries of any kind. There is only this. Whatever form it takes it's all made out of the same "stuff. I can finally see things for what they are. Nothing and everything at the same time. Undifferentiated existence in its purest form. God's own personal hunk of play dough. To actually see it being shaped and molded before my eyes... To be right in the middle of it getting stretched and twisted along with everything else... I try not to let it overwhelm me. I lie back and do nothing. My senses are overwhelmed yet I can somehow almost comprehend it all. Just barely. Enough to know that it's not any fun. Why did I think this would be fun? This isn't like weed. Weed just puts this fuzzy little cloud over everything. But acid... Acid paints with larger brush strokes than anything I've ever ingested. It bends and contorts reality at it's very core. Watching it bend is one thing. But when you're so far gone that you can't even find yourself. When everything around you has melted to the consistency of warm taffy. When your own soul is so twisted and interwoven within the fibers of the universe that the colors no longer stand out. I can't shake the feeling that I've seen something I was never supposed to see. I guess I should feel privileged at having been given such a remarkable opportunity. I was given the gift of sight. I may not have liked what I saw, but honestly, I brought it all on myself. Part of me refuses to let go of my illusions. They're really all that I have left. They're the only things I have that let me know that I'm still human. The only things I have to let me know that I'm me and not somebody else. They're the only things keeping me from blending with pure existence and evaporating up into the ether. Witnessing what I witnessed tonight, feeling the feelings I this, seeing the things I saw... I now know the horrible truth. I simply couldn't accept it. Some things I only thought I wanted to know. It's nothing at all like I expected, that's for sure. If you just want to get fucked up, go drink a 40oz or something. Smoke a blunt. But don't do acid. It's a wonderful thing. You just have to baby it. Most of my trips have been been amazing. I can only handle so much at a time though. I was way past the point of no return last night. It overwhelmed me. "So this is what happens when you take too much acid," I thought to myself. Maybe if I hadn't have fought the trip so much it would have gone better. Who knows. I was fairly new to acid as it was. Maybe I needed to be taught a lesson early on. After a certain thresh-hold I simply cannot let go of the reigns for for fear of being blown 100,000 light years into oblivion. Dissolving up into the air. Getting sucked into the monolith. Floating away never to return. No, it wasn't fun in any respect I can think of. The word fun has no meaning or even validity in this strange, new, exotic, acid-soaked landscape. "Fun" is no more than food for the monolith to gobble up and change into something new. For some reason I feel oddly at peace right now. At least compared to how I was feeling earlier. The terror seems to have cooled off some. For the first time that night I don't recoil from the truth. I finally submit to my newly discovered revelation. I don't want to fight anymore. Besides, I'm far too exhausted to care anyway. I still don't know where I am, or even who I am. But wherever the hell I am, at least I'm not afraid. The fear comes and goes and only really lasts long enough to remind me of my existence (whatever form that existence take). I have no idea what happened earlier that night. I can't think that far back. I can't even form such a rudimentary concept as"earlier tonight" in my head. There is only right now. This everlasting moment that seems to keep moving onward and outward, pushing it's way forward and flattening my soul like a pancake while I lie here lifeless in my bed. For the most part though I am beyond both thought and emotion. There simply is.
Edited by BlenderCat, Mar 27 2009, 06:01 AM.
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Gibson
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christ I get to hear the story in detail this time, its a great story can't wait to read it.

Well if you make it back from your LSA trip alright you seemed pretty fucked when I was talking to you earlier, you got some of us kind of worried.
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BlenderCat
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It wasn't LSA unfortunately. Just some prescrption shit. It sucked. Although I did end up talking to a shampoo bottle a couple of times.
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Masquerading Doll
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Wow...
Just, wow, Jason.
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YesterdaysDreams
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Never had a bad trip off lsd had a couple very odd moments but then I severly doubt that acid today was anything like it was 15 years ago. I did have pcp slipped to me (in a couple joints shared with me and a guy) unknowingly on my part. I had never taken an hallucinogenic before so as you can imagine how well that went over. Subsequently I have never tried pcp since and it was quite a few years before I had enough guts to try lsd. The bad pcp experience ruined marijuana use for me completely since I still to this day can not smoke it and worry about any unknown effects.
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BlenderCat
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I've decided to take this out of the original post because it really has nothing to do with the story. It's basically just a poem about that night. It starts at the point right after me and Brent make it back to Wal-Mart in one piece. Shilo has been on my case to finish the story. He's right, I need to. I'm just lazy.

Satan's Lodge

Strange day it has been
Strange day it has been
For us
Good for us
I found it
Good for us
I made it back
Just in the nick of time
What a strange day it has been
Those lights were making me dizzy
Those lights were making my head spin
But listen
How strange a day has it been
For us already
Very strange indeed
But listen
Do you hear that
Hear what
What’s that
It’s only going to get worse
You need to know that
Did you know that
You didn’t know that
Did you
But there he is
There who is
That’s what I said
What’s that sound
What’s happening now
He’s driving up
Who’s driving up
That’s what I said
What who said
Who are you
And what are you
Doing here now
Yes of course
There you are
Why didn’t you say so
What took you so long
We’ve been waiting for you
I think
Funny looking thing
With the strange look
What’s with the strange look
All of the sudden
Stop doing that
You’re confusing me
Are you doing that on purpose
Are you confusing me on purpose
No of course not
What did you say
I said
No of course not
What
I said
I guess not
What
I said
Might as well get comfortable
Long night ahead
But it’s so hard
Why is that
Why is it
So hard to just get comfortable

Synthetic dementia
Saltshaker lampshade spray
Strobbing violent on
Vibrating carpet redness
Devouring the rugs in
Chiming syllables
Hushed and covered
On rugged turf like a
Woolen broom
Electricity charging through bone
Squeezing it into pulp
Making juice out of it
Melting away flesh
Spilling onto
Shagged carpet stains
Brown clumps dripping
From ceiling spots
Go plop on my head
My body
Or just some new thing
I wasn’t prepared for
Quite unpleasant actually
The actuality of it
Nausea ball twisting off shoulders
Into pools of brown sludge
Don’t step in it
SQUISH
A fate infinitely worse than death
Now I know why they said
What they said
When they said
Look out
They said that
I heard them
But I didn’t listen
I never do listen when they say
Don’t want that one again
But it’s too late

Throttling in and out of consciousness
Where am who are what is
Where am who are what is
Turn it off
Turn it off
Black box
Stop looking at me
Stop it now static
Must be in on it too
But why
What did I do
I can’t remember
I must have done something
I take it all back
If that will help
I renounce the flesh
And the smoke
And those filthy ants
Crawling in patterns
On the flower-patterned wall
Just to make it stop
Please make it stop
Evil inside
Evil all around
Flesh eating demons eating
Fleshy demons eating
Demon flesh
It doesn’t taste so very fresh
Swirling swirling swirling
Not fun anymore
Never fun anymore
In the grips of insanity
Don’t want to go there please
Don’t want to go to the bad place
Too late
Already there
I want out
Mom
Mom
No answer
Mom
Mom
No help
Surrender
I remember

Something was held in my hand
It was made out of wood
Something to dig with
Was held in my hand
That was made out of wood
Something was made out of wood
That was held in my hand
But did not go in
No
I guess it didn’t
Just bounced off
Cloth-covered flesh coating
Much excitement but
No sign of blood
Nope
None here
Oh well
Better luck next time

Beauty of light shining through
Unseen crack in the wall
Are you my God
It’s about time
If you are but
No just a friend
Who must have been here all along
I might have stayed that way forever
If not for you
I’m chronically indebted to you
You know
You’ll never know
How lucky I am
To have a friend like you
Around to scrape my body
Off the pavement and my soul
Off the wood-paneled ceiling
Please leave the light on
ZAP

Once the blood cooled
And the sweat dried
During the few curious
Hours of sleep somehow
I tried to recover the fragments
Of that blistering evening at
Satan’s lodge
From the muddy bottoms of
Seven stale beers
With only partial success
Edited by BlenderCat, Mar 27 2009, 06:00 AM.
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ShiloFish
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Shilo Of The Fishingness
frog.
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Gibson
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Amazing write man I completely forgot this was up sorry it took me so long to write. It kind of reminded me of some purposely placed journal thats found at some psychotic blood bath artsy type massacre.

It really drifted in and out of different persons writing it, was it really that bad?

Fucking A I guess i'll just have to find out for myself!
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