Right now I am watching a documentary about whether or not Iran is developing nuclear weapons. Meanwhile:
Over the last few years I have become allergic to Saturday nights.
Why?
Drugs.
When a party is looming I get so nervous I start shaking and have to lay down. The idea of avoiding the drug rollercoaster is inconceivable. The idea of going on it gets scarier and scarier as I get older. The irresistible force of British tradition on a Saturday night fights with the immovable object which in this case is my body lying down in fear of the chemical journey ahead.
Its not that I don’t want to do drugs, I do. But over the years it has taken progressively more and more, and more dangerously perhaps, more outlandish cocktails to achieve the same effect. The price of not getting that effect is having a shit time on exctacy or a shit time on acid or a mixture of the two and whatever else doesn’t quite tip the scales towards that dancefloor “moment”
I think I am a fairly typical British person in this respect. The dancefloor is very much my constituency as far as politics is concerned.
2 comments:
Yeah, you just realize that "This feeling is fake." Follow that up with an appropriate statement of the drug: "I'm not really in love w/everyone (ecstasy)" or "I'm not really God or Jesus (acid)" or "I'm not actually a feline due for operation on my kidneys (ketamine)."
We all realize these things as we get older because the tides pull us in that direction, all of us, no matter what drug you're doing or not. That's why I don't do drugs anymore. And I'm not even British. Do I get an honorary medal????? Hee hee. The Queen should give out "Honorary British" medals to all cynical, depressive Americans. Please, don't take offence. We need to belong somewhere!
offence at which bit? A lot of people would say depressive and cynical would qualify you for being british anyway babes!
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