Good Morning Fungibles,
In the spirit of our theme this week; angelic interventions, I thought back to a far more enthusiastic part of my life when drinking and drugging and all the trimmings had significant influence on me. I remember one Saturday night in particular, where after considerable deliberation, now think I was approached by one of my angels who saved my soul. It was the summer of 1968 just a year removed from high school, and was living in a tiny studio apartment. Ironically it was just a smidge smaller than the studio apartment I currently possess! I shared the place with ‘Checkers’ a Reuses Monkey owned by my high school senior drug dealer. We had an arrangement. While housed, Checkers was on a four foot leash perched atop a homemade tree house covered in shit. Generally Tom the drug dealer took reasonable care of the excrement, but on occasion Checkers would get frustrated and start throwing shit all over the kitchen. This became an ever increasing sore point and eventually got the opportunity to move to the bigger studio apartment next door. At last I had a semblance of normality! This period was no doubt the best days of my life to that point, because I did everything. I rode a freight train from Sacramento to Bakersfield waving at the kids at the crossing as if I was in a parade. Hitch-hiked to Queens, NY and back. Lived in a commune for three days on the Santa Cruz Mountains as well as took flying lessons. My acne cleared almost overnight, and began to meet and date girls I never would have a year prior. Perhaps my six day adventure with Dave Yoder traveling south on the Pacific Coast Highway from the Russian River to Los Angeles and back was the penultimate experience. Since then I’ve traveled its entire length from Los Angeles to the Olympic National Forest in WA several times. If you’ve never had the pleasure of traveling on Highway 101 & 1; exploring the west coast, it needs to be on your ‘bucket-list.’
Traveling in my 1958 VW ‘Bug’ we were saying our good-byes to a mutual friend in San Leandro, CA headed home to Sacramento. Big Jim pulled out what appeared to be a tab of ‘strawberry’ acid and gave it to us. He warned us both it was very powerful and suggested we split the tab. We thanked him and headed north. Our plan was to split the tab and take it as we drove through Vacaville and ‘get off’ just as we arrived home. There was to be a party at my place that Saturday night while Dave had been hooked up on a blind date headed to the movies to see “The Killing of Sister George.” We both needed to shower and tidy up, so I dropped him at his place and he was to come to the party when he was finished.
I’d been ‘dropping acid’ for about six months and really enjoyed how it affected me. I hallucinated as was normal, but my dreamlike visions were mild and never experienced the ‘bad trip’ I’d heard so much about. I was so comfortable with it I would take it at work or social functions thinking I could read minds and felt intellectually superior to those not ‘tripping.’ It had been two hours since we split the tab and felt nothing, so I figured we got a bad dose and continued to prepare for my party. An hour later I had my “sound system” (FM radio tuner and a large organ speaker) full blast, smoking joints, drinking ‘Red Mountain’ wine ($1.99 per gallon), and enjoying the company of my friends when it finally kicked in.
I was not prepared for the intensity and total loss of all visual reference points. It might surprise the two or three of you reading this peyote button to know I tended to dominate ‘stoned conversations’ by playing subtle mind-games to those under the influence; it was wildly entertaining! Witnesses later described this point of demarcation as me ceasing the bluster and bullshit with a look of horror on my face. Without saying a word I used my hands and legs to crab-walk backwards from the floor onto the corner of the couch pulling my knees into my chest staring blankly at my circle of friends. I remember vividly seeing the torn easy chair with my friend sitting in it disintegrate before my eyes atomized in ripples as a pebble tossed in a pond. I witnessed the nose and earlobes of a beautiful girl melt down her face and onto her shoulders! I had reached a state of evanescence and didn’t honestly think people could see or feel my presence.
The party broke up and was left alone to ride it out when Frank Zappa’s “We’re only in it for the money” was played on the radio. It caused such paranoia I had to leave and go outside. Of course the night was no picnic either! Tree limbs extended as if to reach out and grab me causing my hair to stand on end. There was no relief from this sensory onslaught so it became a fight for sanity! I kept telling myself it would wear off eventually and what I was ‘seeing’ was not reality! It was a struggle that took 20 hours to determine the outcome.
It was during this internal battle for sanity that my angel came to me. She was shimmering and bright countering the dull and dim lighting in my apartment. For the first time in hours I felt calm and at ease relaxing my entire body. As she slowly made her way to me she began shedding her garments to reveal a perfectly proportioned body. Standing directly in front of me she pulled my head into her breasts assuring me all was well. If you’ve never orgasm’d while under the influence of LSD, it is the most unbelievably powerful sexual experience I’ve ever had. My ‘Johnson’ felt as though it was six feet long able to deeply explore the insides of her torso all the way up and into her throat blasting colors and sparkling lights discharging endless amounts of goo!
I’m sorry I have to towel off now.
“I do believe in angels”…..”I do believe in angels”……”I do believe in angels”