May 03, 2005


So to continue with my drug taking dilemmas, the weekend just gone I didn’t actually manage to get out of my head until Tuesday. Inspired by ex-millennial girls K-holing stories I scored some Ketamine to remind myself what I had become so obsessed about on my journeys through India.

My allergy to Saturday nights meant I missed fantastic parties here and here, but I didn’t care that much. Saturday parties are full of people who can’t settle. Wandering between rooms in packs working off their nervous energies by shouting at each other through doorways and screaming when they see someone they recognize. By Sunday morning people are into the groove, out of their heads and dancing. It’s a nice time for me to join in.

As I mentioned before, this Sunday I was looking forward to an outdoor Punjabi party. I loved the mix of Asian ritual music and ketamine in India, so I thought that hoofing a line in the beautiful grounds of my friend’s house, listening to similar music would bring back fond memories.

I’ve never had such a palava getting a line of powder to my nose in my life. First the argument was

“These are responsible people. There are kids here. They don’t want to see someone with their eyes rolling round etc.”

Fair comment. As the night drew on and families left I kept looking to my host.

“Cooking?” I asked. The K I had was in liquid form and so required evaporation.

My friend is a major cainer who doesn’t take much persuading. He is also a major piss-head, which meant that he got himself embroiled in an argument with his misses which he had too much alcohol in his system to let go of. His girlfriend, also my friend of 12 years instructed me not to give him any K.

“How about if he apologizes?” I suggested hopefully.

I didn’t get an answer but headed off to his kitchen where he was sulking. He saw me and started rubbing his hands in anticipation. I had to dampen his enthusiasm straight away.

“Not until you apologize to your misses. I told her you would apologize first.”

He started rilling up. “You want me to make an apology I don’t mean?”

“Yes. Of course I fucking do. You are boring everyone shitless. No one cares what you are arguing about. I just want to do a line of K.”

It was no use. We went back outside and he continued shouting at his girlfriend. There were only one of his sisters and his brother in law left. His brother in law is a largely built and friendly Sikh who was still cooking beautiful fiery kebabs on the barbie.

His girlfriend looked to me for support.

“Hit him with a piece of wood?” I suggested.

He calmed down for five seconds before shouting again. She actually apologized to him for whatever it was he was accusing her of.

“That’s not good enough. YOU have to apologize to HER.”

He carried on shouting whilst I wandered around his garden, very drunk looking for a piece of wood to hit him with. Eventually his lovely sister and her husband, after maning the flames for the whole event, had to drag their kids out of bed to drive the 100 miles back up to Birmingham because they couldn't handle it any more. I left in disgust, Ketamine still undone.

Yesterday, I went round to help clear up and finish the beer and he was still going on.

This morning, dragging him out of the setting we finally got to do the K.

I thought I sorted enough for us both to be wandering around a bit, interacting with the world around us. As it came on we laid down on a jetty of a pond near where I live.I don’t remember seeing my friend for a long while. Sometimes K just gets you. I’ve been trying to come to terms with the experience since, but its hard to describe the enormity of what I thought was happening.

I somehow felt connected to the Greenwich meridian as a force of power that politicians were usurping. Misses Rightwingsparkle turned up on my trip, and we were going to visit George Bush together to convince him that child sacrifice was no longer necessary and to look to his childhood for the root of his dilemmas. Everything was going to be OK in a deeply spiritual way for the whole planet.

I don’t know how to describe the rest of the trip. I felt like I was materialy and physically connected to everything, concepts and thoughts took on physical form. Every thought seemed to open a new scene. I must stress that this wasn't in a beautiful way that acid comes on sometimes, but a totally out of body, elsewhere experience. As I came down and recognized my friend, I pinched my face and couldn’t feel it. I was passing a substance through my system which shouldn’t be there.

When K doesn’t work I wonder what I see in it, but sometimes it just hits me over the head like a pan galactic gargle blaster. Like everything else I have ever done in my life combined in one hit.

This morning, I got knocked into next week, and as my friend said happily before he left

“You told me you’d hit me over the head with something this weekend!”

I think we were both laid out flat for about two hours. I'm not in an amazing hurry to repeat the experience.

My friend thought he had died. He also thought that if this was death, it wasn't that bad. He went home and apologized to his girlfriend, kissing her feet glad to be alive.

p.s. if you enjoyed this one I wrote more tales of K, niftily woven into personal tales of my experiences with fundamental Islam here
and here

I found another interesting K story which goes into a bit more detail than mine here

Dr. Lilly cures his migraines with Ketamine here

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