(no subject)
This was not a What Would Jane Do Moment.
From the moment Grigg had found them, he had known that if he was going to seek advice from the literary world it would not be from her. A What Would Aldous Do, perhaps. Or What Would Burroughs Do?
He could probably guess the answer. Take them and have a little fun. He wasn't opposed to opening up his mind, to thinking outside the box. But when it came to drugs coursing the system, Grigg wanted the strongest things to be caffeine and alcohol, both in moderation. Everything else could take a pass.
Sitting on the beach, he stared at the tabs. The blotter paper with child-friendly rainbows and suns printed on them, six sheets in all. He had just pulled them out of his bag when he had been reaching for something to read and out they had fallen.
Six sheets. Two hundred and forty hits.
One memory and one place that he had seen them before.
Today marked one year on the island. One year without emailing his sisters or talking to his mother on the phone. Without a regular job or bookclub or messing with his car. One year since he had lived his normal adult life and now he was being remind of his abnormal childhood experiences. Of things that he would rather forget.
"Thanks Dad," he said, without meaning to say it aloud. Holding one of the sheets up, he squinted. Perhaps listening to Timothy Leary would probably not be so bad.
[ooc: actually a pretty good time to meet him. old friends, new faces welcome (people willing to beg to take the LSD off his hands). ST/LT welcome]
From the moment Grigg had found them, he had known that if he was going to seek advice from the literary world it would not be from her. A What Would Aldous Do, perhaps. Or What Would Burroughs Do?
He could probably guess the answer. Take them and have a little fun. He wasn't opposed to opening up his mind, to thinking outside the box. But when it came to drugs coursing the system, Grigg wanted the strongest things to be caffeine and alcohol, both in moderation. Everything else could take a pass.
Sitting on the beach, he stared at the tabs. The blotter paper with child-friendly rainbows and suns printed on them, six sheets in all. He had just pulled them out of his bag when he had been reaching for something to read and out they had fallen.
Six sheets. Two hundred and forty hits.
One memory and one place that he had seen them before.
Today marked one year on the island. One year without emailing his sisters or talking to his mother on the phone. Without a regular job or bookclub or messing with his car. One year since he had lived his normal adult life and now he was being remind of his abnormal childhood experiences. Of things that he would rather forget.
"Thanks Dad," he said, without meaning to say it aloud. Holding one of the sheets up, he squinted. Perhaps listening to Timothy Leary would probably not be so bad.
[ooc: actually a pretty good time to meet him. old friends, new faces welcome (people willing to beg to take the LSD off his hands). ST/LT welcome]