Nah, just kidding. Never thought that acid was the key to the kingdom; just enjoyed the journey. Most of the time.
This is a big topic; can't do more than take a little swipe right now. First up, I'm reminded of what drummer Mickey Hart said when asked what he thought now about his years of psychedelic excess with the Grateful Dead; he said, "everything I did led me here, and I like where I am", or words to that effect.
I have a lot of stories about the improbable things I did while under the influence, but I realized after a number of years that some of my pride in these adventures - and they really were adventures - was just another brand of machismo. I voluntarily danced on the edge of lunacy and dared Fate to push me over.
And there are moments when I suspect that it may have. That there may have been a trip that never ended but just took on such a solid form that all that I think has taken place since that day are just vivid visions inside that chemical theater -
- I may wake up in a rented room in Utica, New York in late September 1970, blinking under a yellowed light fixture at a nightstand where a paperback novel and half-glass of water sit waiting.
No, not really. But my point is that I played with my mind in a way that was fantastically foolish, and the fact that I lived to tell the tale may in fact support the old notion that God protects babies and fools.
2 comments:
Ah, but what if your children wanted to try the trip? How would you be feeling about it now? (food for thought, answer optional)
Good question. I have actually given both kids a fairly complete run-down of my "exploits" in this realm and have thus taken some of the mystery and glamour away...but seriously, what I've told them is, make your own choice but don't be as mindlessly reckless as I was - I was lucky; some weren't.
Post a Comment