Tag Archives: psychedelics

Aghast Pt. 3

29 Mar

psych aghast

Leticia listened to distorted versions of her radio hits on a loop that seemed to have gone on for an eternity. She felt herself breaking. With tears running down the inside and outside of her cheeks she whispered “I’ll be true to me”

The voice goaded her “Say it again, baby”

“I’ll be true to me”

“Louder!”

“I’ll be true to ME!”

She filled her lungs with what she felt was the love of the universe and blasted out “I’LL BE TRUE TO ME!”

Suddenly, everything went white and familiar voices surrounded her. She could make out Dawson’s raspy voice “What’s she saying… Hold up! She’s coming to!”

Leticia was still mouthing “I´ll be true to me…” when she realized, despite a splitting headache, reality was returning to the way she remembered it for most her life. There were medics all around her. “What happened?” she asked.

“There was a gas leak, hun. You passed out. We found you writhing on the floor muttering some phrase over and over, we couldn’t make it out, though” Dawson informed her.

“I’ll be true to me?” Leticia asked.

“Yeah, that sounds about right” Dawson said, “I guess it doesn’t matter that the auto tuner is fixed, let’s call it a day. You need some rest. We were really worried about you”

“Let’s call it a career. I don’t ever want to use an auto tuner again. I want to go back to making real music” Leticia said.

“Yeah, yeah hun. Let´s get you home so you can take a load off and get some rest” Dawson replied.

Almost one year to the day, Leticia received a champagne gift basket from the record company. She ripped the card off and her eyes welled up as she read:

“Congrats, girl for rocking the charts! We can’t stop bopping our heads to “I’ll Be True to Me”. It’s your catchiest tune, yet! With our trending data, we are confident it will stay at number 1 for another month. You’re so dope! LOL”

Leticia openly wept. She knew she was not being true to herself.

Aghast Pt. 2

27 Mar

Aghast Pt. 1

 

Music note

Leticia started to form a hypothesis of what was happening. Thinking in this state was like trying to look through a dense fog. Her principle fear was that this was an attack of some kind and she needed to get out of the studio.

“Don’t fight it, honey” a silky feminine voice suggested.

“Don’t fight what? Who are you?” Leticia asked. Leticia was borderline obsessed with Aretha Franklin and she could have sworn that this voice was that of the late superstar.

“The feeling, sugar. Ride it like a wave. And don’t you mind who I am. Pay more attention to who you are. I’m gonna hold your hand through this ride. Now lay down and close your eyes”

Leticia didn’t have it in her to protest. Furthermore, she was convinced the owner of the voice was in fact her idol. The moment she closed her eyes a geometric neon light show commenced underneath her eyelids. It was so intense at times; she wanted to close her eyes, only to realize that they were already closed.

“If it gets too intense, just open your eyes, hun”

“It’s beautiful” Leticia said as she saw a river made of constantly changing fractals which moved with the pulse of her own beating heart.

“Now talk to me baby. Why you here? What are you doing? This ain’t what you dreamed about when you was little. You wanted to sing your songs. And why you hiding that beautiful voice behind some computer, anyway?”

Leticia started to speak and was amused by the fact she wasn’t even moving her mouth. “I know, but I can’t stop. I can’t disappoint. There are too many people counting on me at this point”

“But you disappointin’ you! You can’t even count on you, now”

Leticia started to cry, but the tears felt as though they were running down the inside of her cheeks. Visions of a younger version of herself filling notebooks with lyrics and Memorex tapes with her voice were projected onto the psychedelic background. Then her young face started melting, becoming grotesque as her latest, bestselling hit, shrieked out and assaulted all of her senses. She felt her skull would collapse under the pressure of the hellish sonic waves.

“I understand, please make it stop!” she cried.

“I can’t make it stop, dear, you put those vibrations out into the universe”

Leticia tried once more to scream but it was drowned out by another perverted version of one of her hit singles.

(To be continued…)

 

Aghast Pt. 1

25 Mar

studio

“Call the tech guy, the auto-tuner is broken. It just zonked out” Dawson, the studio engineer, barked out. “And in the meantime, how about everyone have a smoke or get some fresh air. Whichever floats your boat”

The room cleared out, except for Leticia, the multi-platinum talent who was recording.

“You gonna stay here, honey?” Dawson asked. She shyly nodded. “Suit yourself!” he added before putting a brown filtered cigarette into his mouth and heading out.

Leticia sat there in the eerie silence of the sound proofed studio. Every once in a while, she let out an “Uhhh!” just to hear it deadened on the insolated walls. All of a sudden and uncontrollable drowsiness washed over her. She looked at her cell phone. It was 10:30pm, not so late for her, but the yawning became more and more intense. She decided she´d close her eyes until the crew returned.

After what felt like hours, she opened her eyes only to find the studio still empty. She figured she must have dozed off deeply, but momentarily. She felt a slight haze in her head and her eyes were having difficulty adjusting. Some colors were more brilliant than others and some even had trails coming from them when she squinted her eyes. “I must still be very sleepy” she thought.

She sat there for what felt like much more time than was necessary for the crew to have a smoke. She decided to go see what was taking them so long. When she stood up, her legs gave out as if they were jell-o under her. To make things more complicated, the floor felt like a trampoline.

Her first thought was that she must have been drugged. She started for the door but realized she had little control of her members. She dragged herself over what felt like an elastic surface until she found her way to the door. She turned the knob. It just spun and spun and nothing happened. She tried to scream but nothing came out of her mouth. Instead her own shrill cry reverberated in her own head.

(To be continued…)

Aghast Pt. 2

Tickling the Ivories

8 Dec

piano

Fran always wanted to learn how to play the piano. Like most people, he convinced himself that people who knew how to play an instrument were “musical”, or possessed some innate talent that he did not posses. Also, like most, he did not know that people who played an instrument, though sometimes possessing some innate musical abilities, simply practiced and practiced and practiced until they became proficient at their craft.

Fran always looked for the easy way in everything he did. He took pills to lose weight, lost thousands of dollars in get rich quick courses and only hooked up with women that came to him. These are just some examples of his mediocre way of doing things. Because there was no apparent easy way to learn the piano he just put off trying and admired those who could from afar.

One day Fran saw an advertisement in the back of his favorite gossip magazine that read: “Learn the secret of musical masters! No need for useless practice. Play your favorite songs in days! No prior skill required.” And there was a P.O. Box to request more information. He found it odd there was no e-mail address or phone number. He was also a little irritated by this as well. Physically sending a letter would be a lot more effort than he was use to expending for any cause. But this was special. This letter could make his dream come true.

A few months past and Fran had forgot that he had sent that life changing letter. He was reminded one day when he came home to a manila envelope addressed to him from the All Star Music Academy. He got very excited. He ripped it open and inside there was a business card with an address, a time and date that was a few days from today and a key, nothing more. The address was in a pretty bad part of town.

Although Fran did have a few reservations he decided that it would be worth any risk to realize his lifelong dream of playing the piano. It did not even cross his mind that such a risk could have been averted and his dream would have been realized by now by simply practicing a paltry twenty minutes a day over the past couple decades.

Fran arrived at the address. The house was not as bad as the ones to the side of it. He approached the door and there was a small hand written sign that read “Enter and take a seat at the piano in the living room”. Fran´s palms started to sweat out of nerves but “here goes nothing” he thought.

On the piano was another hand written note “Take the blue pill in the ashtray and stroke the C key 100 times” Panic struck Fran. Which one was the C key? He looked down. On a tiny bright pink post-it note taped to a key read “C”. Relief passed over him. He gathered enough saliva in his mouth to help the pill go down, inserted it into his mouth and swallowed.

He took a seat at the bench, extended his index finger and pressed down on the yellowed key marked “C”. “Pling” the piano sang. He repeated the process as the note instructed. When he got to 50 he started to feel giddy. The sound of the C note became hilarious. He looked to his finger. It looked to be 100 miles away. He took it off the key for a moment and put it close to his eye but instead of appearing closer, it appeared even further. His gaze turned to the piano, all of a sudden the keys were larger than cars! “What was happening?” he thought. Thoughts started to appear in his head that were clearly not his own but they were in his internal voice.

piano 3

This insanity went on for hours until he fell fast asleep. A few hours later he woke up feeling fine and with a renewed sense of confidence. For some reason he felt great to be alive. He had an energy that he had never felt before. There was another note on the piano. “Go forth and practice” it read.

piano 2

The next day, Fran bought a piano and a book of scales. He practiced the scales incessantly. Every waking moment that he could. When he was not tickling the ivories he did not feel full. In about one year he had mastered all the scales in the book. He played them so beautifully that they almost sounded like songs. He picked up a few more books, one about how to read music and some books of classical sheet music. In another year he was playing Bach, Beethoven, Wagner, and his favorite, the Brazilian composer Vila Lobos.

As he got better at the piano, he got better at all things he did. He became more organized. He stopped reading gossip magazines and instead opted for books. He exercised. He starting eating well. He was in great shape and feeling great.

On a lark he went to a local studio and recorded a few of his favorite songs. He would proudly give copies to his friends and family. One day he got a call. It was an advertising company. They offered him a job as a composer for commercials and to occasionally play in the office during big events. It was triple what he was currently earning in a job he loathed. He accepted the job and accepted his new way of life and succeeded at both.

Pot Apocalypse Part 2

24 Nov

streets

Please read Part 1 before indulging in this episode: Pot Apocalypse Part 1

Slim left the house hungry. He figured that when he got back, his mother would be there and then she would be able to serve him. As he made his way to the store to buy a lighter, he noticed that there were very few people on the streets. Businesses were closed. There were not very few people on the street. There were no people on the street.

As he walked up to the store and pulled on the door, he noticed it was locked. “What the…..” he thought to himself. He pulled out his cell phone. There was no signal. He tried to call his friend, Dean but there was no service. He started to get a little worried but he remembered he was high and that was enough to calm him down. “Must be the weed buggin me out” he thought. He decided to walk to Dean´s house. There was another store on the way and it was only a fifteen minute walk.

As he made his way to Dean´s he noticed the other store, a 24 hour convenient store, was closed as well. He decided to pick up his pace a little. Now he was coming down a little but still feeling a little paranoid. Now he was starting to worry.

He finally got to Dean´s house and banged on the door. The door opened just enough, with the chain still attached, for Dean to yell out “Who is it?”

“It´s Slim, let me in”

“Ok” Dean said. He closed the door so he could undo the chain. The door swung open and Dean grabbed slim by the arm and pulled him in.

“What the fuck is going on man?” Dean asked Slim.

“What are you talking about?” Slim asked, his paranoia increasing tenfold.

“Nobody´s around, man! They all disappeared. Haven´t you noticed?” Dean asked before putting his mouth to a medium sized bong and ripping a hit.

“Yeah, I noticed that something is weird. All the stores are closed” Slim said as he reached for the bong. “Let me hit it, yo”  of course Dean obliged.

“Does you cell phone work?” Dean asked.

“No” Slim answered as a billow of smoke left his mouth.

“Let´s go to Be´s house to see if he´s ok. You´re the first person I saw all day. I´m kind of freaked here, man” Dean said.

The two burned the rest of the contents in the comically large bowl and started off for their friend Be´s house.  Not before sitting around for some time though.

Pot Apocalypse Part 1

7 Sep

Pot

It was 11:00am. Slim’s cell phone barely wretched him out of his cannabis induced slumber. Without even opening his eyes, he reached over to the nightstand and felt for his bong. Splash!

“Damn!” Slim said, now wide awake. Sitting up, he could see the mess he had just made. There was dirty bong water on the carpet and the smell was terrible. “Mom is gonna kill me” he muttered to himself.

He made his way downstairs to get some paper towels and carpet cleaner. He tried his best to avoid his parents. His father would be easy to avoid. He had gone off to work over four hours ago. His mother would be tougher. She was probably in the kitchen making the pre-preparations for tonight´s dinner.

He snuck around the corner and peeked his head into the kitchen. No one was there. He felt relieved. He grabbed what he needed from under the sink and as quickly and deftly as he could, which was not very after years of constantly being under the effects of marijuana, he made his way to his room.

As he entered his room, he was hit with the awful smell of the bong water. He thought to himself that there was no way his mother wouldn´t smell this. He was about to attack his problem when he realized something. He hadn´t smoked yet. For Slim, the most satisfying smoke was the one after he had just woken up. He forgot about the smell, the worry that his mom would find out and about everything for that matter. What he needed at that moment was to get high. So he did.

He carefully picked the buds out of the carpet that had fallen out of the bowl of the bong and put them back to where they once were. He went to the bathroom to replace the water that was now staining the carpet. He was all ready. He went to put fire to the bowl and click…No flame. Click…no flame. “Awwww!” Slim said aloud. His lighter was out of fluid. He got on his hands and knees and looked under the bed for his emergency matches. “There they are” he said to himself, or out loud. At this point, Slim´s internal dialog sometimes made its way out of his mouth.

He struck the match and a beautiful flame danced on the tip of the small piece of wood. Slim marveled at it too long and it burned down to his finger tips rendering the match useless to light the bong. He struck another, this time putting it directly on the marijuana and sucking on the bong. After three massive hits from the bong he felt that familiar tightening behind his eyes.

Everything slowed down to the speed Slim liked to operate at. Concentrating on one thing was no longer easy and that was comfortable to him. Now that he had that familiar feeling, he was ready to go about cleaning the mess. But Slim felt the urge to use the bathroom so he grabbed his cell phone and went. Slim was so engrossed in a video game that he forgot about the mess and his legs had fallen asleep. He looked at the clock. He had been on the toilet for an hour. In that time, he had smoked the other half of a joint he must have started yesterday. Or another day. He really didn´t know. But he was baked. That he was sure of.

He went back into his room to put some clothes on. He was so high, not only did he forget about the mess, he did not notice the putrid smell of bong water and failed to see the cleaning supplies he had left on the floor next to the mess. He did see the lighter on the bed and remembered that he had to go to the store to buy another one.

He got dressed and went downstairs calling for his mother the whole way down. He was hungry and wanted breakfast. There was no response. It was a little odd, his mother usually did not leave to do her errands without having given Slim, a 29 year old unemployed man-child, his breakfast. But, if she had something really important to do, she would leave cereal in a bowl on the table with the right amount milk needed in a Pyrex pitcher off to the side.

Neither the bowl, nor the pitcher where on the table. That was odd. Now Slim was curious. “Guess I´ll have to get that lighter on an empty stomach, then” he said, out loud. And with that he left the house, forgetting to lock the door behind him.

(To be continued)

Pot Apocalypse Part 2