I never injected anything into my veins. Never was tempted to, or at least I was never hanging out with people who were doing that when I would’ve been tempted to.
I used to think I liked cocaine. I liked it when it was good, but then it stopped being good, but I did it anyway. After that, all that was available was meth, and I hated that...but did it anyway. I think the last time I messed with it was about 3 years ago when I found a little baggie with just a bit in it. It was nice for about 15 minutes and then I spent the rest of the day wishing I had more. I wouldn’t go looking for it, but if someone showed up at my house and put a couple of lines in front of me, I’m sure I’d do it. My body is a den of iniquity.
Meth and heroin are about the only ones I haven't touched. I think E is the only thing I'd like to do again. LSD and shrooms take too long, coke is terrible these days, and original Home drummer Sean and I took a vow a very long time ago to not do opiates anymore. Unfortunately he couldn't stick to it and it killed him. So I don't see myself making any exceptions to that rule at this point.
Damn. That's a horrible story. I can see why that would discourage you from making any exceptions. I had an excruciatingly painful toothache a few weeks ago and took one of my mom's hydrocodone pills. It worked.
A good friend of mine has a yard full of various types of hallucinogenic cacti. His latest project involved stewing them and letting the mixture evaporate over several weeks. He then rolled resulting resin into marble sized spheres. It allows for exact dosages and lets you skip the puking-your-brains-out phase of normal cactus usage.
I MIGHT be interested there, because it was such a labor of love for him.
That does sound like it could make for an interesting 8 hours or more.
The first thing that happened when I got to my mom’s was that she handed me her pipe and asked me to see if I could get a hit. I had to remind her that I wasn’t smoking and she rolled her eyes and frowned at me.
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I’m starting to think my typos are my phone’s fault rather than mine.
Or I’m just better at texting messages when I’m stoned.
We don't get this kind of satisfaction much these days.
Alcohol, on the other hand, makes me convinced I am the smartest person in the world.
I MIGHT be interested there, because it was such a labor of love for him.
The first thing that happened when I got to my mom’s was that she handed me her pipe and asked me to see if I could get a hit. I had to remind her that I wasn’t smoking and she rolled her eyes and frowned at me.
I realize that I have not been alone in three months. It feels very weird.