Chemical Reminiscence

Monday, December 7, 2009

This is one of many of my recollections about my sordid history of drug use. I think they get more coherent as the drug use gets to be further into the past tense.


I have talked more then one person down from trying to jump off something while high, and given thanks to Bill every time. 'Dude, Why don't you try it out from the ground first? Check this shit it out slowly'. I have had many experiences that should have scared me away from drugs. I had an amphetamine habit.

For a year and a half, 3 weekends out of four, from Friday night to Monday morning I was fucked up. I have a high tolerance to begin with, so 78 hour benders were expensive, and fucked up my universe in a pretty intense way. But the first series of moments when I should have quit came when I was doing a one night party on one pill only. The first moment was one of my first few times doing drugs, fourth of fifth I guess?

I was at a friends house. There were maybe 50 of us in a smallish house. It was one of those weird 3 story town house deals, where's there's like 2 rooms on each floor. Late in the night, around four in the morning, we had discovered that nobody had actual beds, just mattresses on the floor. So we had piled a couple of queen sized mattresses on top of each other in the master bedroom, and we were running down the hall way, and diving across the room to bounce off the bed - it was fucking awesome. Until one girl bounced off the bed and through the curtains, knocking the screen off the window and going straight out the window.

It suddenly struck us all that we were three floors up, and below that window was a basement car park - so a four story drop onto solid concrete. It was this intensely surreal moment as she just vanished through the curtains, the laughing stopped and it was dead silent as we contemplated the drop in that intense moment before complete panic sets in. We were all realising that a girl had probably died and shit the house was full of drugs and we were all going to jail. Then her head appears through the curtains like something out of a bad television magic special. Apparently there was a balcony outside of that window that we'd all forgotten about. It was easily the most panicked 15 seconds of my life.

The other incident that really stands out took place at another party, my second drop (I had an interesting first few times), I was spitting e-tarded game at this very hot girl and going nicely when she goes to the bathroom. Both of us were new to the scene and had dropped like one pill. I had a second one I was planning to split with her later to seal the deal, I'd heard drug sex is amazing (I later found out that it is, if you can actually get it up) and I was trying to keep my shit together while she was in the bathroom when I realised she'd been gone for a while. Somebody else went to use the bathroom and when it wasn't locked, assumed nobody was in there and went right in. Hot girl is on the floor, unconscious.

Most of the people at the party are hardcore. they've been doing this shit for years. Yet I'm the only person who can get it together enough to check her breathing and her pulse. Nada. I start CPR while screaming for somebody to call an ambulance, everybody is freaking out about the house full of drugs, I'm trying to tell them that they just need to call an ambulance, not the cops, and tell them it was a drink spike. Finally somebody calls the ambulance and babbles bullshit at them. I'm screaming 'Drink spike, no pulse, ambulance here NOW' in the background to try and clarify the situation for emergency, as they get the address out of the fucked up freak on the phone.

what felt like hours later (but was probably only a minute or so), the girl's pulse restarted. As I'm giving her mouth to mouth. Her gag reflex kicks in again and she projectile vomits, into my mouth. All over my face and my clothes. I reflex vomit into her mouth, and all over her face, other people vomit over us. It is highly romantic. I pull it together enough to help her clear her airways and put her into a recovery position, sweeping away the vomit from under her face with my hand and trying not to vomit more. More people are vomiting outside from the smell. The ambulance guys arrive and I tell them the story, they laugh at me when they hear the vomit part and tell me that that happens.

They write it up as a drink spike despite the drug paraphernalia all over the house and the entire room full of obviously fucked up junkies. She never sleeps with me. Next weekend I wanted more drugs. A few years later I eventually quit after one of my famous 72 hour + benders. A bottle of absolute, half a dozen top shelf pills, a gram of speed, 3 cartons of bulbs, some marijuana, some meth, some ice (like meth but more fucked up), some GBH and some coke. I come down and hit a huge depression cycle. I spend the week depressed and next weekend get fucked up to make myself feel better, spend hours making out with some ancient, fugly crone. I get home, still fucked in half and have all sorts of intense hallucinations and panic attacks and decide to quit.

I hold my resolve until the next party where my friends hustle me out of a party before I get my ass kicked for pissing all over the bathroom. I get massive depression and shame issues on the come down and go clean for about 6 months. I partied a few times after that, but completely sober but for the occasional beer (no more then 3 at a time) or vodka shot (no more then 2 in a session) since Easter last year. (this was written in early 2005)I never believed the ‘drugs make you stupid’ shit when I was on. But I took a few tests while I was partying - aptitude tests for jobs and shit. I scored mid-average at best. I've taken some pretty heavy aptitude testing for law school since I quit and scored in the top percentile for the country on the nationally assessed shit. That’s probably the biggest persuader against starting up again, that and the post party depression.