put my name on your list
my girlsEva Braun and Maximus
he poured liquid drops into my hennessy and apple juice. i didnt know how much it was. i never done acid before. i assume this was about fucking 10? maybe 13 hits of acid. maybe im just a bitch and it was 2 hit and he was looking out for a young buck, thats why i think it was more. ive tripped hard on shrooms before. this shouldnt be a problem.
they say when youre on acid youre driving the car, shrooms youre in the passenger seat. i’m in control, i told myself
49 hours straight ive been dancing in my brain. do you know what thats like? a bump of coke out of a parliament light, a shot of bacardi, i’ll take a coke and rum, get deep and get to know your peers. talk more. another gin and tonic and a blunt to your face. if you pass out you lose. youre out of the game forever. hit another line. itll keep you up.
im here, room 206 i think it was 205 actually. yo… you know whitney houston died within the same premises within these halls? the lobby gave me weird vibes. the acid kicked in.
the shiny floors made me trip out, hard. i saw myself. it was a fucking lightshow on molly/ecstacy/everything. except i never done excstacy or been to a rave to know what thats like. but i felt it looking at the floor.
holy fuck, i thought. i need to chill out.
another parliament. fresh air. you’re on the sidewalk. in the distance. i see the fountain from clueless, you know the scene where alicia silverstone realizes shes in love with her stepbrother?
i walked over. i stared at the water. its just water. but this acid, coke, marijuana is really fucking me over right now. i touched it. cool, ice. i cant believe this. what the fuck am i doing here being a fucking drunk retard in beverly hills. you look like a fucking goon, thrift store suit. im rocking khaki suits till i die. this shit was made in italy and was worth tenfold.
you ugly fuck, i saw my reflection in that pool of water. self loathing is a crime, i should be locked up for life. i think thats why i work so hard. i keep my standards high. my confidence is always portrayed though passion. passion is love.
fuck was that 2 or 3 cigarettes i just smoked. my throat was parched. a wave of nausea and fear. i yacked into the fucking fountain. everything. i could barley move. incoherent and fucked. i layed there on my back.
it was around 2am if i can recall. i went back into the hotel around 3.
i looked up in the sky. you cant see stars in LA, you only see stars on the street or on movie sets. you gotta get high to see the stars, no really
the night just started.
SIT DOWN MAN
i will grow my hair
and cut my fingernails short
daunting and handsome
Am I really all the things that are outside of me?
Would I complete myself without the things I like around?
Does the music that I make play on my awkward face?
Do you appreciate the subtleties of taste buds?
deeply moved by vince gallo’s buffalo ‘66
these are the types of films that make want to keep doin what i do