we cant stop here... its bat country
Strange memories on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a main era - the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.
if you dont think about it, you wont cry
thats what im always telling myself when i can feel the tears come.
i hate crying
it happens far too often.
but yet,
ive held in a lot of crying.
i can only imagine the day i crack.
You can turn your back on a person, but, never turn your back on a drug. Especially when its waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
so yeah.
my uncle is worse
(for those of you that actually care)
the melenoma spread up his arm/shoulder/clavicle
and my mom found a new lump a bit back
cat scan proved it to be cancer
...lovely lung cancer.
Look! Theres two women fucking a polar bear!
so yeah.
i thought i was depressed before.
fuck.
then what do you call how i feel now?
on top of my uncle feeling like shit,
a friend of mine got his heart shit on.
and that hurts me to see him like that.
seeing as i used to like him :-/
Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow.
yeah.
ive been on this fear and loathing kick
as if you werent able to guess.
getting stoned and watching that movie is a great way to start the day.
its very relaxing.
should have done it tonite.
blast.
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
i dont know how much more i can handle faking my happieness
whats wrong DC, youre not smiling?"
*sigh* nothing is wrong.
lie
*grins*
"now thats more like it
How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?
plus my depression gets real bad in the winter.
and its getting colder and darker earlier
not much fun
i really dont know what else to say.
ive already said it already
my life is a painful cycle
and i just need to get a stick in the spokes to make it stop
and throw me barreling over the top.
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time - and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.
fin
if you dont think about it, you wont cry
thats what im always telling myself when i can feel the tears come.
i hate crying
it happens far too often.
but yet,
ive held in a lot of crying.
i can only imagine the day i crack.
You can turn your back on a person, but, never turn your back on a drug. Especially when its waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
so yeah.
my uncle is worse
(for those of you that actually care)
the melenoma spread up his arm/shoulder/clavicle
and my mom found a new lump a bit back
cat scan proved it to be cancer
...lovely lung cancer.
Look! Theres two women fucking a polar bear!
so yeah.
i thought i was depressed before.
fuck.
then what do you call how i feel now?
on top of my uncle feeling like shit,
a friend of mine got his heart shit on.
and that hurts me to see him like that.
seeing as i used to like him :-/
Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop. Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side. This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He will follow.
yeah.
ive been on this fear and loathing kick
as if you werent able to guess.
getting stoned and watching that movie is a great way to start the day.
its very relaxing.
should have done it tonite.
blast.
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can. The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge, and I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.
i dont know how much more i can handle faking my happieness
whats wrong DC, youre not smiling?"
*sigh* nothing is wrong.
lie
*grins*
"now thats more like it
How long could we maintain? I wondered. How long until one of us starts raving and jabbering at this boy? What will he think then? This same lonely desert was the last known home of the Manson family; will he make that grim connection when my attorney starts screaming about bats and huge manta rays coming down on the car? If so, well, we'll just have to cut his head off and bury him somewhere, 'cause it goes without saying that we can't turn him loose. He'd report us at once to some kind of outback Nazi law enforcement agency and they'll run us down like dogs. Jesus, did I say that? Or just think it? Was I talking? Did they hear me?
plus my depression gets real bad in the winter.
and its getting colder and darker earlier
not much fun
i really dont know what else to say.
ive already said it already
my life is a painful cycle
and i just need to get a stick in the spokes to make it stop
and throw me barreling over the top.
History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of "history" it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time - and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened.
fin