I love drugs. I smoke marijuana regularily and I will use narcotics if I get get them. I don’t like sedatives or “downers,” except for the mild sedation produced by a few pain killers that I have experimented with in the past. I hate alcohol, basically anything that numbs or slows my system I don’t like. I want fast, sharp and empowering drugs. I’d like to try PCP and crystal meth one day but I hear its next to impossible to get. I quit using LSD when I was a teenager, upon a “bad trip,” when my “friends” were fucking with me. That night I saw deep into the human psyche and I found some terrible revelations about the human being. Had another friend not drove me home, I might of killed somebody.
I have never felt diminished because of prolonged drug use. I have lost much of my memory, but memories are not important to me. I would assume that my intellectual abilities have been thwarted also, but I pay no attention to what the majority of the world calls “intelligence.” The fact that I can’t calculate the trajectory of a missle, or compute math problems in my head, or recite the opening passages of Plato’s Republic is of no significance to me. Philosophy, Language, Science, Logic, and any other formal study, I believe, is an inferior practice of neccesary knowledge and the aquisition of power. “Intelligence” is nothing more, nor will it ever be, the mental ability to reflect on novelty situations which are threatening and/or dangerous. Sitting around ILP shooting off a bunch of excess verbiage is not “intelligence.” It is a luxury of language afforded to those who are not struggling at the moment, that is, who have “spare time.” Put them into a pit of lions and you will see real intelligence take shape, or a philosopher burger…which ever fate would have it. It would look something like this:
(the lions approach the philosopher)…
“oh!..uh…uh…, the transdimensional extension of the cause and its anatomical properties, manifested in the psychic apparatus, have produced an insufficient and inadequate proliferation of descriptive methods by which I percieve the oncoming lions, therefore this is a figment of my imagination and…ahhhhhhhh!!!” [crunch]
I have been mocked most of my life for using drugs. My family, and many of my friends, do not respect me because of it. That is fine. They are no threat to me, and if they were, who was the “better” would become apparant rather quickly. So I don’t pay any attention to the opinions of others regarding what I do with myself. It is comical to watch another sober man fail at something I can do stoned, and then tell me I’m the one with the problem.
I love drugs because the world is not enough for me. When those little transmitters start’a firing I fall in love with the universe, for those brief seconds, and the rest of this pathetic world fades away.
In all honesty, I have experienced nothing more profound than a blast of crack cocaine. Plato, sex, lottery winnings, peace in Iraq, a cure for cancer…ha! Not even comparable.