arkham13's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the long entry Drugs are strange and personal things. I know people who on the outside seem like very straight respectable people and go home every night and do coke, smoke pot, trip on acid, etc. I also know people who look like freaks and wouldn�t even go near extra strength Tylenol. My experiences with drugs have been pretty casual. I grew up around a lot of drugs. Both my parents smoked pot pretty regularly and although they tried to hide it in a general sort of way... we all knew what was going on. My mother also had many friends who were artists and such, so I saw a lot of sniffing and nose wiping... hint hint. Then as a teen I hung out with people who smoked pot everyday. I hung out with people who did A LOT of speed. I also went to raves a lot during high school.. so ecstasy, mesc, acid, and crystal meth were all around. Funny... I like drugs, I respect drugs, but I haven�t really done many drugs. I think I know what an addictive personality I have and I realize that if I like something I will want it all the time. I think another huge reason I don�t do drugs is because I don�t smoke. I never have smoked, I never will smoke. I am not anti-smoking or anything... I just find it pointless and gross. I mean... for the price of a pack of cigarettes I can get a tab of high grade acid that will last about 8-12 hours. That is value. Anyhow, since I didn�t smoke cigarettes I really wasn�t into weed. I mean the whole inhaling something that is on fire never quite clicked with my brain. I did occasionally smoke pot, but I coughed a lot and then got really tired. Oh well. I am too much of a wimp to try anything in the cocaine/crack/heroin/hard drug category. I have read too many books and I know I would be so totally hooked. I would live out the book "Tristessa". I would move to Mexico and just waste away. But Acid was nifty. Here are the benefits: It is cheap. It is mind expanding and thought provoking. It is great to do with friends. It lasts eight to ten hours. AND since it last so long and is so dramatic there is no way I can possibly do it more then once a month... if that... so addiction is not a worry. Anyhow... that is my drug history. While I am at it I should fill in some things about myself to all you faithful readers... it may help explain things... I am male (duh) I am twenty-five (shudder) I am an only child (evil grin) My parents divorced when I was an infant and I was raised by my mother. I saw my father often. My mother is an extrovert, ex-hippy, nurse who is a bit crazy but loveable. My father is an uptight, intelligent, emotionally repressed advertising executive who is rich and only now realizing how empty his life is. I am what we call a New York mutt. I am a fourth generation New Yorker whose ethnic heritage is so mixed up that it would be ridiculous to try and map it. Plus, many of my grandparents are adopted, strangely enough. But I will say I am white... um... I have an Italian last name but I don�t look Italian. I have shortish curly dark brown hair. I have vivid gray eyes that are often blue, but sometimes green. I almost always dress in black. All black. Not in a goth way, but more in a New York way. I wear glasses and will never ever wear contacts. Hmm... What else can I divulge while still maintaining my anonymity? I live alone in an apartment in a pretty bad part of Manhattan. I love my apartment, mostly because it is my first "not parent owned" residence. I have a queen size futon and three bookcases. I have a tv an a sterio and my little mac. I have three big posters on my bedroom walls. All black and white. Janis, Jimi, and Jim. The trinity of rock and roll. I have black curtains and black sheets and black pillow cases and a big emerald green comforter. I have a lot of candles.... god I sound like a goth serial killer don�t I? Anyhow. That�s me. I am a good person. I give money to public television. They sent me a duffel bag. I like to look out my window and watch couples argue. I have a picture of Christina Ricci dressed up like Catwoman and holding a whip, right next to my bed. I have a stuffed pig that sits on top of my computer. His name is pig. I used to have a cat that I named cat. He was a real cat not a stuffed cat. He was a really big yellow cat. He was very loyal and then one day it got sick and ran away to die the way cats do. I respected him for that. One day I will get a dog and name him dog... but not now because I am in a small apartment and I don�t like dogs enough to live that close to one. I don�t really like animals that much. I liked cat because he knew when to stay away. I also don�t like sports. I don�t like children that much either, though I can be pleasant around them and make silly faces quite well. I think I may in fact be a good father, but only after about a decade of therapy. I love books. I love to cook. I love music. I have a little under 3 gigs of MP3s on my hard drive. I love my computers a lot. 500MHz G3, 320 Megs of RAM, DVD, CD Burner. I have about twelve porn tapes in the back of my closet. Yes, I still hide my porn even though I live alone. I also still close the door to the bathroom even though I live alone. Sometimes I get scared because I live alone and I see faces in the shadows and I have to quickly turn on every light in my house and then put on socks and then watch TV. Although I don�t follow any religion I own a bible, a torah, and various other text. I read them very often. At one point when I was in high school I wanted to be a witch. I read all about witchcraft/wicca and studied books by Gerald Gardner and Raymond Buckland and later darker stuff like Crowley and LeVey. I play the guitar very badly and play the bass fairly well. I started a band a long time ago and wrote really bad songs. In the back of my closet, next to my porn and my steel toed boots, there are three boxes of comic books. There is also a box of loveletters. I love that box. Every time I see it I get filled with this fluttery feeling. It is proof that once upon a time somebody loved me. I also write good loveletters.. and they inspired good return letters. Sometimes I open them up (they are all still in their envelopes) and I can still smell perfume on them. Except the ones from Ann... she never wore perfume. There are also old mementos in this box. A bus ticket. A little pendent. A ripped dollar bill. A little bow that came off a bra. A long time ago when I was really depressed, I had to look in that box just to stay alive. Hmm. I�m hungry. -ark. 10:24 p.m. - 2001-04-03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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