Drug experiences

Its weird considering all the different drugs I’ve dabbled in over the years.  But the most damaging drug experience I’ve ever had was on pot of all things.

I was hanging out in my office one evening, it must have been sometime around 2005.   And I had this water pipe — which I rarely used — and a ten dollar bud I had just bought from a friend of mine on the Ave.  So I fired that bud up.  And to this day I don’t know what happened next.  I don’t know if the weed was tainted with some kind of weird chemical.  Or if I had inhaled a water bubble into my brain.  Or what.  (If any of my readers have any theories I’d be happy to hear them)

But the next thing I remember I’m lying on my side on the floor of my office in the fetal position.  And I couldn’t move a muscle.  I was completely paralyzed.  I had slipped into some weird kind of coma state.  But the weirdest thing of all was, my mind was still functioning normally.  I was completely conscious and vividly aware of everything that was happening.  I just couldn’t DO anything about it.  Except watch in horror.  I couldn’t even yell for help.   It was sort of like when you conk a radio and one of the parts gets disconnected and the thing won’t turn on.  It was like I had conked my brain with some kind of whack to the head and I had somehow disconnected the part of my brain that sends out signals to my limbs and makes them move.Image may contain: sky and outdoor

 I don’t remember feeling particularly scared.  I mostly remember feeling dismayed.  Like:  “Ahh fuck, what have I done to myself THIS time???”  And desperately wishing i could somehow go back in time and un-do what I had just done to myself.  But unfortunately life doesn’t work that way.  And I remember thinking;  “I’ve suffered some kind of brain damage.”  And that alarmed me.  Like maybe it was permanent.   Maybe I’d never come out of this coma state.  I’d spend the rest of my life lying here paralyzed on the floor of my office.  Along with this other odd thought;  “For crissakes, Backwords!  You can’t do ANYTHING right!   You couldn’t even OD on drugs right!  NOBODY ODs on marijuana.”

I must have laid there in that paralyzed state for at least 4 or 5 hours.  Thinking many, many thoughts.  Finally, I began to gradually get some kind of body movement returning.  I had my “guru altar” set up near the wall where I used to meditate.  So I figured maybe it would be a good idea if I could get to  it and lay there and pray to God to get me out of this fucking mess that I had gotten myself into.  “No atheists in foxholes,” after all.  So I’m crawling on the floor towards my guru altar.  But there are all these boxes of crap that for some reason were piled up all over the floor of my office, blocking my path to my altar.  So I’m trying to push them aside while I’m crawling on my belly like a man in the desert desperately trying to get himself to water.  Finally I make it!  And I flop down there for about an hour thinking many, many thoughts.

It must have been around 4 in the morning when I finally regained enough strength to actually stand up.  I felt a strong need for some fresh air in the hopes of clearing the cobwebs in my brain.  So I put on a pair of moccasins and stumbled downstairs and outside to the street in my jeans and tee-shirt.  University Avenue.   It was December and there was a drizzling rain and the streets were soaked and cold.  But I didn’t care less about that.  I trudged down Shattuck Avenue in sort of a zombie stupor for a couple of blocks and then circled back to my office.   Completely ruined my moccasins.  And I only hope that’s the only thing I ruined that night.



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