Drugs are good for you. They really are. Anyone who says drugs is bad for your brain is stupid. Because not only is your brain a drug producing pharmacy, it can’t function right without the drugs it produces, nor would you function right. Your brain makes drugs like Opiates, Dopamine, Endorphins, and DMT – one of the most powerful hallucinogens known to man. Each of these neural-drugs’ molecular structure are near identical to common illegal street drugs. DMT is the most interesting. Only two things can pass into your brain thru it’s “firewall,” or it’s blood barrier system – Sugar (glucose) and DMT. Without either, you would be brain dead. Not only does your brain manufacture powerful drugs, it makes you addicted to them in its own way. You brain will link one of its addictive drugs to acts your conscious mind does. Such as prayer for example. If the initial act of prayer triggers a rush of opiates, you brain with link that act of prayer to the production of opiates, and will cause you to crave the opiates, forcing your to repeat the act of prayer. Any act that triggers an initial release of neurodrug will be linked to the act – sex, jogging, driving fast, masturbating, fighting, hiking, self loathing, eating until your morbidly obese, whatever. The brain’s self induced craving for its own drugs and the linkage of those drugs to physical acts produces what you call “Habit.” Habit is a primal method of survival. We are all addicts, some of us are in denial, and other are consciously aware of it. It is when we become aware of our enslavement to addiction, that we can begin to take the first steps to transforming from a robot that runs on chemical programs to a truly free person, who is master of his/her own mind, body, and life.
My mind was opened to the whole drug thing when I was 11; but not drugs at first. My neighbor/bestfriend at the time Jenny would come over to my house, and we’d hang out in my room all day. This one day we were talking about our dads, how they were different and the same. I was telling Jenny how ordinary my dad was, but he likes to drink beer, and I tasted some this one time he asked me to throw his Budlite for him. She asked me what it tasted like and what it did. There wasn’t much left so I told her – “Like bad water and it made me wanna puke.” Jen tells me that her dad drinks AND smokes. I opened my mouth in horror because Jen’s dad was a cop, and I didn’t think cops did that stuff – “AND he smokes… why do people smoke?” I asked. I asked her if she can steal a cigarette from him so we could try.
The next day several hours after school she called me and said to meet her inthe club house because she got the stuff. I had a club house in my back yard. So I ran outside as fast as I could. The bitch pulls out a whole pack of Marlboro Reds, and she was smart enough to steal her dad’s lighter too; which was good, because I didn’t have one on me.
It was so stupid because my heart was pounding so bad it felt like leaping out of my throat. “You smoke it first Jen…” I said. Jen goes – “Ok, I seen how my dad does it, like this.” She puts the cigarette in her mouth and flicks the lighter and puffs… and then coughs many times, and her eyes got watery. “Here,” she said, “You try it, it tastes gross.” I took a puff, and it was like I was born to smoke, because I didn’t even cough. We were both surprised. That was the beginning of the end of our life long friendship.
Jen and I grew up together as next door neighbors since forever, and we were best friends at school. Spiderswinging with each other and everything. Back during those simple years, you never really realize that you are anything besides girls. Its not until later in high school that labels are put on us and we must fit into some group. Back then I guess one can say me and Jen were nerdy. Of course, I was the prettier of us two.
I smoked pot for the first time when I was 13 with another childhood friend named Ryan. Ryan was this skinny freckle faced red headed boy that used to live across the street from us. He lived with his mom. For some unknown reason at the time, I used to love going over to Ryan’s house. Not really because I wanted to hang out with Ryan, but because his mom was fun to be with and talk to. Her name was Dana. She had this sexy long wavy red hair and a closet full of high heels, and the way she moved her lips when she talked made my heart race for some reason. I learned later on, when I was more intelligent that Ryan’s mom was the neighborhood slut. Dana actually actually abandoned Ryan and her house for some guy living in Alaska, and left Ryan with his grandparents who moved to the house. What a heartless skank… but she was so sexy.
Anyways, back to drugs. I was 13 when I tried pot. I was just starting Junior High. The bus stop where the school bus picked us up was at the end of our block, so all the neighborhood kids I grew up with just walked down the street in the morning and sat by this tree stump to wait for the bus. Ryan was a year older than me, so he was in the 8th grade. I guess because of his family life, with his mom ditching him for some Alaskan lumberjack he was slightly fucked up emotionally. That meant he got into drugs and hung out with the “bad” crowd. He had grown much taller, dressed like a gangbanger and hung out with his best friend EZ who was this fat Mexican wannabe gangbanger or something.
I was walking by myself one morning to the bus stop because Jen was sick, and I heard Ryan laughing from behind this empty house where there was a shed in it’s back yard, so I walked over to the shed to see what Ryan was doing. I walked in on him smoking something out of this 6 inch tall water pipe with EZ. They stopped and looked at me. “What are you guys doing?” I asked. In my mind I was thinking – “Oh my god, they’re doing drugs… illegal stuff!” Before they could answer me, I turned around and said – “I’ll see you guys at the bus stop.”
But It’s was too late. Amazing how one small act can have such a huge affect in your life. Ryan goes – “Kayla, come here and try this, it’s weed.” “No, it’s ok, I’m fine,” I said trying to get out of it “I’ll see you guys at the bus stop.” Ryan says to EZ – “Dude hold her…” And EZ grabs me and laughs. At this point I’m scared beyond belief, like I’m gunna faint or cry because these retards are gunna make me do drugs. My friend Ryan packs the bong with green stuff and shoves the mouth piece in my mouth and says – “Ok, you either take a hit, or I’ll punch your stomach and make you hit it… you’ll thank me later.” So I willingly took a big puff to avoid getting punched. They don’t make peer pressure like they used to.
I didn’t feel anything. The smoke I mean. It was like sucking air. I told the fuckers – “That’s it… it’s like air, cigarettes are worse going down.” They just laugh. EZ goes – “Dude, give her the rest, she thinks cigarettes are worse!” So I spent the rest of the time in the shed with them smoking the rest of the bowl. They splashed cologne on me afterwards and we walked to the bus stop. I started to feel like my brain went fuzzy, or like someone wrapped plastic around my brain. I heard Ryan tell EZ – “Sit next to her on the bus in case she goes crazy.”
The rest of my junior high year was a total blur. I got high every morning and I started hanging out with those kids me and Jen had often talked about. The bad ones that were into drugs and gangs and stuff; who were the popular ones at our school. It was as if drugs transformed me into a cool popular girl. Which it did; but with a price. I lost my friend Jen forever, because we were now on different ends of the school totem pole. She was a nerd girl.
I get real quite when I’m high on pot, unlike every body I know. I don’t laugh, or giggle. This weird thing happens where everything around me is just blurry or faded, and all I can focus on is a single thought or a single thing in front of me. Not a visual focus, but a mental focus. Like seeing things with a metal magnifying glass where whatever you are focused on takes on a strange crisp, refined, and fascinating quality. Like I was staring at an ant once crawling on a yellow flower high, and the image and scenery of the ant becomes more vivid and fascinating. It’s a living ANT moving by itself around a yellow flower… and why is the flower even yellow if it doesn’t have eyeballs to see its own color? Or how does the ant, with it’s small brain know how to move all 6 legs like that. Wow!
I didn’t learn shit from school that whole year. I passed anyways, because the pot smoking actually made me intelligent. It’s true, it started all the rusty sprockets and gears in my girl brain moving and I started thinking and questioning. It made me ask all these questions about things I would have never spent any time thinking about… like life… and bugs… like why doesn’t the moon fall and crush us all? Or if what Mr. Buttenheisen (our science teacher) said was true about how the sun has a big gravitational field that keeps the planets where they are… and gravity makes apples hit Newton’s head… than why doesn’t the earth fall into the sun hmmm? I call bullshit! Pot gave me the answers to the mysteries of the sun! It did, a lot of pot… and a lot of free time… which I had, because I got grounded in my room often.
I answered my own question about the earth and sun this one day when I was terribly high while being grounded in my room. I was brushing my hair with a black plastic brush and wondering to myself why we had hair on our heads? The pot made me figure – If we didn’t have hair, then the sun would burn our scalp, it’s only logical, don’t you think? Anyways, after an unknown amount of time brush my hair; my brush got all staticky. I was playing with the brush lifting my own hair all fascinated with the magnetic effect of how my hair went right for the brush. So I emptied my pockets for all of its pocket lint and I tore tiny pieces of paper and made the brush pick up lint and paper. That was fascinating for a while. Then I went to get two balloons in one of my drawers, to see if I can make the balloons stick to the wall with static electricity. I blew up these two balloons and sat there a while rubbing them on my head and stuck them to the wall… but they didn’t stick. Damn! Disappointed I went back to my pile of lint and paper, but this time I used the balloons. That’s when I saw something weird. When I put lint on one balloon, and put the other balloon just above it, some of the lint and paper just floated there in between the two balloon! It was like I got the opposite of a brain freeze. Like a revelation. I saw one balloon as the sun, the lint and paper as the planets, and the other balloon as space. Both the sun and space have an electro-static charge of some sort and this electro-static charge keeps the planets in their static orbits! And that’s just pot. I moved on to bigger and better drugs – Acid (LSD).
I was in the 8th grade when I tried acid. My new found friends were talking about how cool it is to see things when your tripping on acid, so I asked my friend Tim for some. You can get every kind of drug from pot to cocaine at your neighborhood junior high these days… and guns too now. Capitalism is everywhere! I gave Tim 5 dollars, because he said the stuff he gets is top quality. He came back the next day with a sugar cube. I looked at it and said to Tim – “I paid $5 for a fucking sugar cube, I’m gunna kick your ass if this is just a sugar cube.” Tim told me to just eat it when I’m in the safety of my room. Which I did.
I was in my room after dinner when I ate the sugar cube. I waited and waited and I didn’t see shit, so I was planning on kicking Tim’s ass in the morning and getting my lunch money back. I had this movie on called Pee Wee’s Big Adventure or something like that. All of a sudden the movie was like in fast motion and Pee Wee’s voice was squeeky like a chimpmunk’s. I was thinking to myself – “What the fuck, who pushed the fast forward button?!” I got up to look for the remote. That’s when I learned the acid hit me good. It felt like the floor was made out of jello, and I felt like plastic-girl, like my arms and legs were made out of soft rubber, and it felt like I was 20 feet tall or something. Every time I moved a leg or arm it felt like they stretched clear across the room. I looked out side my window and the whole sky was filled with flashing rainbows and ducks and fish were outside my window. I had pet fish in an aquarium and it looked like I had more pet fish swimming outside my window. I called my friend Tim to tell him the good new, after many fail attempts because it was hard when your fingers feel like melted cheese, and the buttons feel like jello. When Tim got on the phone… or at least I thought it was Tim, he spoke like his voice was slowed down in slow motions, like the battery in your antique cassette player was dying… but it was weird because Pee Wee was in fast motion. I don’t even know what Tim was saying on the other end.
Anyways. After the novelty of the effects of acid wore off, I snapped into that state of questioning and extreme focus, like I often went into when I was high on weed. There was a part of my mind that was still rational, so I used that part to try and experience the experience of it all as rationally and objectively as I could. I knew the fish and ducks and rainbows weren’t really there; and that I wasn’t 20 feet tall or made out of cheese… but I saw the things and I felt the things; and these things were embedded or weaved into the rest of what I knew was “real.” It made me think that perhaps everything I experience with my five senses as “real” actually happens inside my own brain and that it might not be “outside.”
I only did acid one other time, and I never did drugs ever again, pretty much because I had gotten all the experience I needed out of it; but partially because I got majorly busted. The last time I did acid was before school with Tim. We downed these things called microdots early in the morning and Tim and some of the other guys then sniffed some rubber cement. I didn’t do rubber cement because it stank to bad for me. Then me and Tim parted to go to our first period. We had second period together. Our second period was Pre-Algebra. This was the 8th grade, don’t ask me how a bunch of stoners got into a high level math class, because I simply don’t know. That’s just what drug usage does.
That day in Pre-Al we had a test, and the microdot was in full effect. I tried to stay as calm and rational as I possibly could because my classmates were aliens with grasshopper heads. (I was watching this documentary on how locusts in the billions sometimes ravages Africa the day before). I just told myself that they weren’t really grasshopper people, but my friends and they weren’t going to eat me, and that they only look like that because I was an idiot for taking acid before school because Tim said it would be fun.
My exam paper, or at east I assumed it was my exam paper because the grasshopper that was sitting at my teacher’s desk was passing it out, looked like a Pac-Man game. I saw Pac Man and a crude looking maze with numbers, dots, and those ghost things Pac Man eats. I was thinking to myself – “Boy, I’m gunna fail this one forsure, because I don’t see equations anywhere!” Unfortunately my friend Tim wasn’t as sane or rational as I was, because he also did rubber cement.
Well, I didn’t know it was Tim at the time. Tim sits to my right, right next to me. But that day everyone looked like grasshopper headed humanoids. Everything was deathly quite (because everyone was taking the exam) and the grasshopper to my right is bugging me with his heavy breathing and pounding heart beat which I was hearing. I looked at him, and saw he kept on looking at his chair, and hitting it, or doing something. He looked at me and said quitely – “It’s got teeth Kayla…” “What has teeth, your chair?” I asked real quitely. All of a sudden “Tim” as a grasshopper alien jumps out of his chair and screams – “It’s gunna fucking eat me! The crocodile is gunna eat me! Fucking help me! Kill it!” As soon as I heard him scream I scream also and jump out of my own chair onto the carpet. I was rational thoe, so i said in my mind – “Kayla, get back into your chair, or the teacher is gunna know you are fucked up.” So I got up to see “Tim” running out the door outside, with the teacher following behind. The whole class ran outside too.
The principle later called me up to the office, after lunch period when I was coming down from trippin, but still high. That’s when I got busted. The Principle and the campus police had just finished with Tim, and our other close friends. I had already been warned that they were cracking down on our group, because our group was dealing pot and pipes; and I had a quarter ounce (of weed) and 9 pipes me. I went to the girl’s room and shoved the bag of pot down my panties, thinking, I’m a girl, and they wouldn’t cop a feel in my crotch for shit. I forgot about the pipes, I was thinking they only wanted to ask me question.
I was sat down, with the jerk off police standing like some cowboy staring me down between me and the door of the stupid principle’s office. And Mrs. Davidson the Principle (who knew me quite well because I got detention and Saturday school often) asked me – “Kayla, honey, what happened to Tim this morning?”
I was like – “I don’t know, he ran out of class during exam?”
“Let me see your eyes,” says the cop.
The campus police (which is nothing but a glorified hall monitor… who can arrest you) flashed a light in my eyes.
“She’s high too,” he said to Mrs. Davidson
“I am perfectly rational and fully functional Mrs. Davidson, I swear!” I protested.
Then Mrs. Davidson said – “Kayla honey, empty your pockets, they ratted on you.”
I was in complete shock, with my mouth open when she said that. Who knows if she was just saying it to trick me, but I was already scared. I emptied my pockets of the 5 pipes. Then the cop made me take my shoes and socks off and the other 4 was found. My heart was fucking racing like a motherfucker because I had a quarter ounce of fucking pot down my sweaty crotch, because I was hella nervous. I was just hoping the cop didn’t pat me down. He didn’t. But I had to endure 20 minutes of this amateur interrogation by Mrs. Davidson and her sidekick “Captain Buck Rogers” until my parents came to get me. I only got suspended for 3 weeks (as if it’s a bummer to not have to go to school – Oh no, my education!) And grounded for a year. But the good thing is I came back to school, even more cool and popular than when I had left. I was actually the shit on campus after that day. Such is the power of drugs. Enlightening, and coolifying. I never saw Tim after that day. My other friends said his parents sent him to military school. I also learned that my friends never ratted on me. That crusty hag of a principle was just using the stupid cop strategy on me.
But I did get busted for possession of drug paraphernalia, but I was a minor. I had to go to Juvenile Hall (which was scare tactic – it worked) to get a tour of my future life, if I continued to do drugs and sell it. Then I had to have a meeting with a Parole Officer to have this yellow paper sign and given to the school. That P.O. sat me down and says – “Kayla, you’re an intelligent and pretty girl, how did you ever get involved in this stuff? You are going down the wrong path young lady. Do you want to grow up to be homeless? Or end up in prison? Tell me something, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Nobody had ever asked me that question before, so I really thought about it. I answered – “A philosopher, or cult leader, or just marry a rich guy, quid pro quo.” I was being quite honest, but the P.O thought I was being a smartass.
That mental state I had acquired from drug abuse, and the very real hallucinations I had experienced thoe were the grand prize, that would till this day bring me closer to peek into the mystery of life.
I started deeply wondering about life later when my aunt had my baby cousin. I went over to see the baby fresh out of the oven. I saw it, and I started “sober trippin.” I was looking at it – here was this living creature that literally came out of nothing 9 months ago, and it’s alive. It can’t do shit, and it probably isn’t even consciously aware of itself yet, but somehow it’s baby body functions perfectly. I couldn’t get that mysterious thought out of my mind.
Just days before I had a conversation with a friend of mine who believed in a “higher power.” He had asked me if what I believed in, and I told him I was a hardcore materialist, and that nothing exists other than what the elements on the Periodic Table can make, and that’s my final answer, and no amount of debating or evidence can change my mind. He said to me – “But how do you explain all the mysteries of the cosmos, with such a basic and limited conviction, as if your convictions knows all there is to be known?” What mystery, I said.
He was right thoe. There was a lot of mystery about the universe and everything in it. The more you think about something, the more mysterious it becomes. Like my baby cousin. How do all those trillions of cells know where to go and what to be if they all have the same genetic blue print? How does every single person, animal, and plant come into physical existence always perfectly formed (most of the time)? How does a 2 square inch blurry upside down image on my retina become the world I see and experience? What the hell is the sun using to stay lit, and how does it stay lit if there is no oxygen in space to fuel fire? If there was a big bang, exploding like fire works, should the cosmos look like an egg with a shell and the inside being empty because the force of an explosion pushes things out of the center… why is the universe uniformed? Why is there order and symmetry in the universe; why is the cosmos not a chaotic mess?
I thought about my baby cousin as I was laying in bed one night. About his little body working perfectly even thoe he were totally unconscious and unaware. That’s when I had my revelation. His subconscious mind! I can’t see it, and if we cut him open to look for it, we would not be able to find it, but yet we know a “thing” is there because of that “thing’s” residual, observable “by-product” – the perfection of his little functioning body, in side which every trillion cell and every organ, and neuron, cooperatively works in symphony. His little body is just as complex and mysterious as the cosmos. “Something” “beneath” the cosmos, works the universe in an orderly symphony in the same way. The universe being the residual, measurable, observable “by-product” of this “something.” I went to sleep with a smile on my face that night; but with a new question. Where did my baby cousin come from, and where do we go when we die?
It wasn’t until later that I answered that question, and drugs had a lot to do with it. I riding in my parents car down Pacific Cost Highway at night, on our way to San Francisco for a family vacation, and we were taking the 7 hour scenic route, if you can call it that. 7 hours of senic riding in a boring car is about as mind numbing as being high. Thank god for my walkman. I was listening to the radio that was built in to the walkman and staring out at the ocean; it was dark. I like listening to a single radio station when we go far in a car, because I find it cool in a geeky way to hear the station change and play different music as you drive into a new area. That’s what drugs do to you, drugs or a boring ride.
As we were driving past this mountain pass the station I was listening to glitched and picked up a different frequency, and for a short moment two different frequencies were playing on one station. In my trained mind I immediately hallucinated two universe – each frequency being a different universe – and I saw the “membrane” of these two universes lightly touching, like two bubbles; and that point where they touch was like a glitch or vortex where the two universes accidentally merge.
I thought that was a stupid idea, so I scrapped it for a better one. There can’t be more than one universe, that’s just silly. That’s like saying there was more than one electromagnetic spectrum. I saw the universe as a spectrum or piano with many strings, and each string was of a slightly different octave and frequency. It’s just one spectral universe, in many octaves or layers, all simultaneously existing, just like all radio frequencies just float in the same air and sky, and you only become aware of a radio station if you have a receiver to pick up that specific frequency. this was a far better model for me.
I was thinking to myself after I thought about the octive universe model – “God, we could be driving right thru people and worlds of a slightly different octave than ours an not even know it.” Then I thought – “It’d be trippy if i had tuning buttons on my forehead, so I can switch universe stations like I do radio stations.” That’s when I had my revelation.
I don’t go nowhere when I die, because I am nowhere to begin with. The radio station doesn’t “go anywhere” when I change stations. Even thoe I am “somewhere” when I am dreaming at night, I am just I my bed. When I wake up, my mind just phases back into this default station. People don’t go anywhere when they take acid or some other hallucinogen when hey experience other worlds. When a radio or tv set gets too old to work and “dies” it doesn’t mean the music and waves dies too. My baby cousin didn’t “come from anywhere.” When his brain is wired enough and ready, his consciousness/awareness will just phase into this world for a while; and when his body grows to old and dilapidated, that consciousness will phase out of this world. It’s like drugs and dreaming… a tweaking of the mind. We spend half of our mortal existence sleeping and dreaming. As if at all times we always have one foot grounded in this world, and another always in the world of dreams. A baby spends all of its time in it’s mothers womb dreaming, and it’s first four years drenched in a world of half real half dreams in theta wave brain frequency. Which is the same brain frequency of deep trance and dreaming. Only later does that little brain learn to fully phase into beta wave consciousness… and in our last years as mortal beings we slowly phase out of this world… “losing” our minds… lost in another, from whence we came, to which we return.
Kayla 352
