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Politically Incoherent: Acidmath

Column: LOLCol   |   Date Published: Thursday, 16 March 17   |   Author: Leanne Duck   |   1 week ago

     "One of my greatest fears is home invasion and in the vulnerable state of ‘coming down’, this was playing on my mind."

This will serve as a continuation from my dip in the pond of psychedelics. In the last edition, I outlined my experience with lysergic acid diethylamide. However, I didn’t have the word limit to flesh out the aftermath which is also an integral part of the tale. After having dropped the substance at 8:30 in the evening, the effects began to wear off at around 4 o’clock in the morning the following day.

I didn’t really have the luxury of being lulled back to a coherent sense of reality at my own pace as one of my friends called me through the Messenger application attached to Facebook. As I recall, it was a Tuesday so their night was winding down after belting their pipes at karaoke. Towards the peak of my trip, I did attempt to operate my phone but as I held onto it for dear life whilst balancing precariously on my bed I couldn’t shake the sense that it was a stranger’s device and it just felt wrong. Although the mobile looked like mine, its appearance was also warped in some unexplainable way.

It turns out my friend was stranded at a petrol station not far from my humble abode after having blacked out. At the time, I wasn’t able to comprehend the seriousness of the situation but nonetheless invited him to my homestead for kick on antics. I was in no state to become responsible for someone else and so I just provided company and abstract conversation to the best of my ability until he passed out on the couch in our loungeroom, which is pretty much the equivalent to a flattened loaf of bread. I refer to it as ‘well loved’, a description which is both true and ambiguous. Beforehand, he tuckered himself out by staging an improvised cooking show featuring crispy bacon slathered in enough salt to crumble a cliff face, and coffee beans. It was quite the flavoursome explosion.

The worst aspect of the experience was not being able to sleep for 24 hours straight. I’m not sure if that’s commonplace, or just the way my brain is wired but my circadian rhythm was clock blocked by my own body to the full extent of the law. Judge Judy and executioner sentenced me to being Sleepless in Seattle. I was a Picasso mix of Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. Eventually I managed to put myself to bed at around 10:30 in the eve. No one was home and it was the perfect environment to drift back into the welcoming embrace of Morpheus. Although I wanted so desperately to power down, I was awoken from my slumber a mere hour after achieving unconsciousness to the sound of the apartment buzzer ringing off its hook.

As I wasn’t expecting anyone, in my hazy wakefulness I figured it was merely a dream. The buzzing subsided as someone else sanctioned entry to this mysterious entity. I tried to reassure myself that whoever it was wouldn’t bother traversing all the way to the top of the complex. I was very much mistaken as I listened to them trudging heavily up the five flights of stairs. Now might be a key point to mention that one of my greatest fears is home invasion and in the vulnerable state of ‘coming down’, this was playing on my mind. Whoever it was started knocking aggressively on the front door and demanding for me to let them in. It was an unfamiliar male voice and unfortunately we don’t possess a peeper. After asking repeatedly through the door who it was and requesting them to leave, his name was revealed and it was confirmed I had never met the fellow in any previous lives. However, the man kept insisting that I open the door and at one point referred to me as ‘Angela’. I had to threaten to call the police before he backed off and walked begrudgingly downstairs.

Eventually I could hear him hollering at random balconies clearly searching for confrontation. This was followed by making a phone call in front of our building and I peaked through the window in an attempt to identify him physically. He was staring right into my bedroom and I backed away slowly, hoping his eyes wouldn’t pick up the movement. Since we have a pretty identifiable sign on our door, which would’ve been about two centimetres in front of his eyes, he would’ve had to be truly fucked up not to comprehend it. Someone eventually coaxed him back into the building and as it turns out the woman he sought lives in the apartment below us. The Zelda to his Link. The Princess Peach to his Mario, as it would seem. I eavesdropped into their balcony conversation and this guy claimed he was on a new type of substance that was gaining popularity on the coast. He referred to it as a ‘zombie drug’ and professed it was some kind of bath salt. Anyway, the moral of the story is – listen to your parental units and don’t ever lower the drawbridge of your castle to a stranger, you might very well get your face eaten off.

 

 





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