My friend just called me, 15 minutes
ago. My dear friend. He has just dropped acid for the first time with
another guy who is generally known in our bitter little circle as a
complete cunt of a thing. I feel for him, my friend, and all the
nutty shit that is about to happen to him. Through the stubbornness I
was able to get him to go outside, but able to get little else
through.
Like the football player before a big
match, the politician before a big speech or the former fatty before
a wedding buffet; the rookie LSD doser needs a coach.
I had one, and a damn fine one at
that. Being that I am compulsively neurotic, this was essential.
Without it, the drug would have been a thirty-dollar nightmare, as I
suspect it will be for my dear friend. But with it, or with him, the
experience was as fine as one can be. I marvelled at the sun, admired
the haircuts of trees and watched clouds collide, or fuck. Who knows?
LSD can be, and super is, fun when the
time is right. Though way more importantly it is the atmosphere that
matters. I only survived to drop again because the first time was
smooth and gentle. I wish I could say the same for others.
NP.
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