Europa

Introspective hallucinogen trip

# Europa

 

"Don't you sit there and tell me youre ok! don't tell me you don't see this s**t! You're on the same f*****g drugs that I'm on! I watched you consume the exact same f*****g wicked chemicals that I did, and your just sitting there like stonewall f*****g Jackson while I'm over here watching the room wave like a flag in the wind?! You're f*****g with me man! You have to be, youre f*****g with me."

 

"Nah, I'm fine man, I don't see anything" Micheal said plainly. "you've been thinking about this all Day, your expectations are high, or at least that's what I think. Now given, I've never done anything like this before, but I feel fine."

 

 I fought my way up to a standing position, though gravity seemed to be an increasingly formidable force, growing stronger with every tick of a clock that had no interest moving this night along with any sense of urgency , and wrestled my shirt off frantically, breaking buttons along the way. I was very visibly panicked, and at that, met with an equally delusional inquiry.

 

"What the F**k dude, are you ok?"

 

What a stupid question.

 

Physically I was fine, but mentally? At the time I couldn't even consider speculation an option, but I was thankful I didn't have to.

 

"My f*****g shirt wouldn't let go of me! It grabbed my right side and f*****g squeezed me! Holy s**t man, Burn it! Kill it with fire! "

 

I took a deep breath, and also a moment to writhe in the angst of a diluted consciousness. With the shirt off, I felt alright, or as alright as one could feel with his sanity on vacation. The night was certainly gearing up to be a strange one, as was so clearly evident by the attack of my wardrobe. My mind was escaping, bleeding from my ears with the utmost haste, a purple paste oozing from the sides my head, doubtful of whether it wanted to return.

 

"I need some f*****g air, I'm going to the terrace before I have an anxiety attack"

 

With a great and justified trepidation, I began the exodus to the terrace. Finally on my feet, with a dim light of control glowing in my brain, I began moving south, past the entertainment center loaded with a fine collection of records from an age forgotten. Everything from Sinatra to Eddie grant lie in those annals, and they were constantly given new life every time we were in need of a soundtrack to our escapades. I don't quite recall what was playing, but i remember distinctly the haze of the low audio quality that the record player had set for the night. It was a faint static, felt it on my skin and in my lungs as i crossed the room. The decor of the apartment itself was mismatched and very obviously lived in, but I had grown fond of it during my mental expeditions here, especially now that it was all swaying in this cosmic wind. Antique pictures, hand painted Art along with old movie and band posters donned the walls without much care as to their location, and an interesting collection of knick knacks was scattered about the common room. Each step that brought me closer to the freedom of the terrace filled me with anticipation and more angst, and a thousand thoughts raced through my mind. As I passed the portrait of the parrots that I had just watched shift color and shape for the last thirty minutes, I found myself under the impression that the birds were strange.

 

"Andrew man, these birds are strange, all they do is sit on this little painted Stick and stare at you"

 

"I don't give a F**k about the birds, I'm on drugs...F*****G DRUGS! These are the ones they warn you not to do man, these are the ones that lock people up in Bellevue and they're kicking my a*s. I need to stop this s**t..."

 

His voice slowly faded with uncertainty, and was met with a moment of silence before I changed the subject back to the birds which presently consumed me.

 

"You know, F**k me. Who the F**k am I to call these birds strange? They probably think I'm f*****g nuts myself! This isn't the first time they've seen me lose my mind, and it probably won't be the last. They must wonder why we keep doing this, I mean, they KNOW what were doing. These birds can change color and shape, they MUST know what the F**k were doing."

 

"SORCERERS!" Exclaimed Andrew, in a hallucinogenic fueled moment of strength.

 

"F**k. They heard me call them weird." I muttered under my breath.

I turned my attention now to the birds directly. " I'm sorry birds, seriously. You guys know me well enough to know how I am. I was watching you watch me, and i don't blame you either. I'm sure with the s**t we're on, people would PAY to watch me. I didn't mean to judge you so Harshly, can you find it in your little impressionist avian hearts to forgive me?" Though the words left my mouth with heartfelt sincerity, Micheal began to laugh, and Andrew soon joined in chorus.

 

Impaired by chemicals, with the situation beyond my grasp, I turned my attention from the birds and finally made my way out the door, promptly closing it behind me. This moment was for me and me alone, and judging by the visuals I was met with, the drugs were on the same page. It was a small terrace, maybe three by six feet, housing a chair, small table and a cooler, with the remainder of the space being used to store things that didn't belong inside, my fishing rods among them. I leaned slightly forward over the southward facing terrace and stared at the night horizon. It was littered with lights, visible all the way to Rockaway beach. The lights seemed to change luminosity at will in the distance, and as I turned my focus to the lights directly below me, I realized that no coordinated effort was made by the Co op to supply each property light post with a matching color bulb. Such a small thing struck me as maddening. Why would the bulbs not match? All of the property light posts are identical, why would the bulbs not be?

My attention was suddenly shifted to the balcony railing. Old and weathered, the railing had seen better days. The mesh between the posts was slightly damaged with rust, and the top rails paint was chipped and discolored. In fact, it was a chip in the paint that had caught my attention in the first place. The discoloration began to spread with a disease like quality across the railing, eventually changing it in its entirety from an off white to a rusted shade of gunmetal, and continued down to the mesh, which began to distort as if pressure were being applied by some unseen force.

Through the mesh of the now rusty Grey fence, the trees were visible. Trees littered the co-OP property grounds, but I had never been fortunate enough to see them like this before. Every tree in sight, barren and desolate in the cold December air, had taken on new eerie life. Every twig upon every branch seemed to twist and contort, coming to what appeared to be tapered points. I could sense the life in the slumbering timber giants even now in the dead of winter, and the longer I gazed, the more life like they had become. The closest thing I'd ever seen to the majesty of the trees in this rare form was diagrams of things like nerve endings from old high school text books. They were, during this roller coaster ride of an altered reality, the most enthralling things I had ever seen in my life. I watched closely, pondering for a moment the great role played by the trees on the grand stage, the importance of the puzzle piece they represent in holding it all together before an interesting thought crossed my mind. Did the trees have a soul?

They certainly were alive, even more so now and fulfilling a crucial niche for the benefit of all life on this planet. They give all they can, and ask for only sunlight and water in return. They didn't breed war or animosity, but instead offered only solutions. I thought of the trees moss, providing direction to the lost and a source of antibiotics to the sick, of the trunk that builds our homes, and the canopy that provided a home for countless other forms of life. My mind then turned to myself, and humanity as a whole, breeding war and famine constantly. We take without giving, and relentlessly seek personal gain, destroying anything keeping us from it. Were we deserving of our souls?

 

 The thought had abruptly escaped me as I realized my focal point had shifted from the trees to adjacent buildings. Though I knew the buildings well enough to know where each edge and corner were, my impaired mind and glassed, dilated eyes had agendas of their own. I tried focusing, but everything in sight began to refract in a convex manner, imparting an ameba like quality to the buildings. As I made my way closer to the color changing mesh fence on the edge of the terrace, a great light to the east took hold of my attention. North of the canarsie landfill, in the space earlier occupied by the east new York housing projects seemed to be a great machine. I was at a complete loss for words, and captivated by this great sight. I knew in the back of my mind, that these were still the same projects they had always been, but again my eyes and brain were not on the same page. With my depth perception completely inept , what was normally a miles deep view of Brooklyn was only visible in two dimensions, forcing industrial smoke stacks to fuse with the large projects behind, and the smaller school building ahead. Lights began to shine with uniformity and inexplicable intent. I wasn't sure what this forming monster wanted with Brooklyn, but I was sure in that moment that ignorance was bliss and decided to have a seat and divert my attention. There was nothing I could do about the great machine in the east, and now was no time to be a hero. I drew a deep breath in to my lungs, closed my eyes for a moment and tried my best to expel thoughts of the monster and its grinding gears. Releasing my held breath and opening my eyes had endowed me with new life, and as I held my head back to the chair and stared vacantly in to the sky, I was greeted with a moment of peace. Everything had returned to the way that it was before my parting of the sensory.

 "Jesus Christ....WOW. I'm glad that's over" I said aloud to myself. I let out a chuckle, which slowly grew to a hearty laugh. I had felt safe, as if I had just averted some grave danger, and was ready to put this insane incident behind me now that I had regained control. It took a moment, but i was drawn out of my introspective feeling of false security by a rush of warmth. Starting at my feet, it began to spread up my body, all the way through to my head and finally I had felt the warmth from beyond my skin, as if I could sense my surroundings. It was then that the sky had began to melt.

 

Scattered clouds blazed across the deep blue abyss overhead, forming and separating with hasteful yet gentle intent, creating a fantastic kaleidoscope effect with the distant stars. The heavens seemed to swirl about like a great cosmic maelstrom, filling me with an unrivaled awe, and as I watched my whole world shift around me, I could feel the barriers of my mind shattering. The world, in this rare form was startlingly enlightening. How could such beauty be kept from us? How could the secrets of the universe be unlocked with just a ten dollar capsule? How could ANYONE be opposed to the expansion of your mind in this manner? as the feelings of my previous panic faded, I sat there on the color changing terrace staring at the ever shifting sky a while longer while my brain dove deeper down this introspective road of thought. Entertaining the idea for a moment, the decision was made to play devils advocate. Perhaps these drugs aren't for everyone. I take pride in the fact that I'm not one to be easily shaken, and my current existence was effectively a rock  in a psychedelic slingshot, I could only imagine what this night would have been like if i weren't "blessed" by this solid tolerance for insanity.

Thoughts of my experiences past with psychadelics crossed my mind, as did the the great anticipation I felt all day. It was the same angst that I'd felt time and time again in the days leading up to nights Like these.

Author's Note

This is my first real attempt at writing anything, all comment and criticism welcome

Reviews

[Zombie Waffle]

It's good.
But your dialogue is just a little clumsy. Try to avoid having characters announce their emotions or what's going on on their head, at least so bluntly.
But other than that, this definitely made for an interesting read.

[Josh]

Hey thanks! It's still a work in progress, but it's a non fiction piece, so I was trying to stay true to the night. I appreciate the feedback and I'll keep it in mind during the rewrite !