I reach back about a year ago. I had just had a Sigmoidoscaphy (sp? basiclly a camera on a long tube inserted in an uncomforatable place for an extended amount of time with a television monitor in viewing distance with a perfect view of the insides of your colon), and was sitting around with some friends that evening.
All of the sudden I busted out with this intersting tirade on Interactive Porno Movies, and the ‘Ass Cam’. To this day that lives on in robgruver’s circle of infamy.
After having some outpatient surgery (they’d given me something “to relax” me), I tried to get into a long involved discussion with the surgeon about how the procedure felt like he used a tonka truck with a small plastic backhoe (with small sharp plastic teeth on it) to extract the tissue. It made perfect sense to me at the time.
Once in my college days, the experimental days mind you, I smoked a little sumfin’ sumfin’, and then had much to drink, and for a brief sec thought I realized what the whole universe meant. My roomy (and still one of my best friends) gave me a notepad to write it all down on. Now mind you, my penmanship is exceptionally awful. The next day, we could not read any of it. All I know is that for one sec, I Knew Everything!!!
Aparently I was in such a prophet mode they believed me for a bit. Sheesh. Oh, to be young, stupid, and be able to get away with it again.
My friend was high as a kite on sugar, and he was talking about how cool it looked when my green slurpee hit the sides of the cup through the blue I’d already put in. IIRC, he said
One time I got painfully stoned and I was convinced that the world was fake. All my memories didn’t happen, and that the world was just part of my imagination. It freaked me out. I kept reviewing memories and trying to decide if they were real or false, and I decided they were all false. I was convinced the world had just been created to confuse me. I kept mumbling “The 80s never happened, man!”
<snort> You can subtitle this: Why Nym didn’t do hallucinogenics for a long time.
In college, sitting around with a bunch of my friends, shrooming our asses off. Everyone else at the party is drunk or stoned, we’re the only ones tripping. We’re on a totally different wavelength from everyone else. So, we’re huddled in a corner of the room, all smoking furiously. Potted plant beside us, two windows with curtains on either wall. Someone, gods alone know who, flicked their cig into the plant, somehow catching it on fire. After about 150 years, one of us noticed there was a fire right next to us. Here was the conversation:
Tripping balls: Dude. Plant is on fire.
Me: No, it’s not.
Off his gourd: Dude. I’m pretty sure it is.
Completely wasted: Dude, I’m pretty sure it’s not.
Me: We’re all just having the same trip, dude.
Seeing God: Really? I feel so close to you guys right now. It’s like…it’s like we’re one, man.
Tripping balls: Duuuuuude. Totally. We’re all part of everything.
Me: See? I told you.
Meanwhile, the plant has gone completely up and the curtains have caught on fire. There is a picture that still exists of the five of us huddled in kitchen chairs, discussing how we’re all one with the universe, in a corner of my apartment as the damn room burns down around us.
My husband claims that when I was being wheeled into surgery, having had the initial dosage from the anesthesiologist, I declared: “I will now sing a medley of my favorite Broadway tunes!”
That’s totally ridiculous! I don’t do medleys! I’m sure he made that up…
The following are quotes from myself and friends after a long night of rolling (ecstacy). Seems that we lose our ability to say what we mean or actually our ability to control what we say or when. It’s a phenomenon we like to call “shooting salad”.
Josh’s famous quotes
Andy’s quotes. I only remember one
Mikes quotes and drug induced foolishness.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you drugs arent fun! Okay I need to go now. I think my brain is bleeding
Once night when I was about 9 or so, I was trying to sleep, but my parents were arguing downstairs. I was drifting in and out and about an hour later, my mom came up to my bedroom to speak to me. By that time, I had fallen asleep and she woke me right out of a dream.
When she asked me if I had heard them arguing, I said to her that she and dad “sounded like ants.” The next morning, mom asked me just what the heck I had meant by that. In my sleepy delirium, I had made an association between my parents’ voices and the voices of ants in a cartoon I had been watching on TV earlier. The ants’ voices were very high-pitched, and I think that I had observed that as the argument went on, the pitches of mom and dad’s voices had continually escalated. I don’t think she understood what I had meant.
