EDITOR’S NOTE: Here at Ruthless, we do not condone or promote illegal drug use, or the abuse of legal drugs. However, we are not naïve and realize that drugs, legal or illicit, will be abused as long as they are available on this planet. Don’t abuse drugs. Nevertheless, we will continue to write about this issue for educational purposes.
Well… I did say I’d used it twice, didn’t I? Yes, I did. And although the first time was one of the best experiences I ever had, the second time was even better. So, come sit with me now, the old Dutchman, while I regale you with this story.
The first time I used LSD, I was living in Heerlen, a city in the southern Netherlands. By the second time, I had moved back to my birthplace, Tegelen, a little further north. I was staying with my oldest brother after being evicted from my previous room – something about not being able to pay rent because I’d spent it all on drugs – and I was actually awaiting my first ever admission into a rehab facility when I reconnected with an old friend of mine, Bram.
Now, Bram – as a friend – he was something special. He was one of those First Real Friends, you know? I met him at the boarding school I was sent to from the age of 12 (something to do with not being able to behave myself like a normal human being at home, having explosive bursts of anger in which bicycles flew over walls and things of that rather violent nature.) Me and him, we clicked from the very first moment. And from then on, we were best friends: always in each other’s company, always having huge amounts of fun, interspersed with some of these really good talks you can have with a friend at that age, at those warm summer evenings, sitting at the pond on the grounds of the boarding school, smoking cigarettes I bummed from my girl. Halcyon days, indeed…
So, Bram! Yeah, man… After my years at the boarding school, I lost touch with him. Then, a few years later, by which time I’d started using drugs, we got back in contact. And wouldn’t you know it – he was into drugs too! Yay! He was living in a student house in the city of Den Bosch, and we quickly made plans to spend a weekend at his place partying together. I would bring six hits of XTC (or Molly, as you Americans like to call it), and he would bring four trips of acid. And some opium. And fireworks, too. Yes.
Oh, glorious, glorious weekend… I’ll get back to the XTC half of that in the chapter on MDMA and focus for now, if you’ll permit me, on the second half. The acid half. Because, darn. Or, the darndest.
My man Bram, he had this whole weekend planned out, you see. We would take the XTC on Saturday night, three of them each, and then wander into the city center, which had old canals running through it, and on its banks, we would light the fireworks. And the next day, while the aftereffects of the Molly were still coursing through our bloodstreams, we would take the first of the acid. And then we went to the movie theater. To see Space Jam. The one with Bugs Bunny and Michael Jordan. On acid. Yes.
Now, since this was the second time I used LSD (and, as it would turn out, also the last), I thought I somewhat knew what to expect. Boy, was I wrong…
The movie theater was only a few miles from his house, so we took our first trips and rode our bicycles into the city. Along the way, the LSD started to kick in – but it was… different. Ever heard of a ‘candy flip’? That’s when people use XTC and LSD together. Supposedly, it creates a special interaction that makes the whole experience even more intriguing. And that’s basically what Bram and I did that weekend, only a day apart. But still, it worked. Oh, yes, it did…
Bram had tickets reserved, and when we arrived at the theater, he told me to wait at the main entrance while he went and stood in line to get them. Space Jam was a big hit; it was a Sunday evening, the city center was bustling with people, and so was the movie theater. So, there I stood, at the entrance, people swerving all around me, and the acid started getting stronger and stronger… Sweat was pouring from my face… My eyes felt so big I was afraid they were going to fall out. I thought everyone was staring at me. As they probably were. Where did Bram go? I wondered… he was gone for quite some time now, wasn’t he? Hours, it seemed like… Sweating… staring… people… more people… And then, finally, just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, there he was again. All peppy and happy, like nothing happened. And I flipped! A little… I grabbed him by his lapels and whispered/shouted in his ear something ranting about why he would disappear on me like that, leaving me standing out here for hours and hours while I was tripping out of my mother-freaking skull!?!?!?!? He looked at me strangely, glanced at his watch, and said, “I’ve only been gone for five minutes.”
Oh. What?
Right. “Are you ready?” he asked. I calmed down and nodded. Yes. But I wasn’t. Oh no…
The theater was packed full. The very last seats available were right at the very first row. Yes. Now, in any other circumstances, this would be hugely annoying and probably ruin your movie-going experience. Not this time, though… We sat down as the lights slowly dimmed. The only light left came from a little spotlight that shone from above on the big, red curtain that was ever so gently swaying in a whisper of wind. The acid was now working at full steam, and I pointed out that gentle swaying to Bram. I saw him look, and his eyes grew big. I smiled. So, he noticed it too. This big, enormous, truly giant, and also strangely beautiful curtain, and how it was swaying, ever so gently, and friendly, and warm, and utterly magnificent… It was, as Bram and I silently agreed upon, by far the most beautiful curtain we ever saw. And then, it opened.
Now, strangely, although I remember that whole weekend vividly, I can’t actually remember what it was like seeing that movie with a head full of acid. I just can’t. There’s this gap, exactly one movie long, in an otherwise bright and shiny memory of that weekend. I did watch it a million times since, and I love it still, but actually seeing it back then? Nope. Nothing. Something about sensory overload, maybe? I have no idea. But don’t you worry, ladies and gentle people! Because our story doesn’t end here. Oh, no. The best is yet to come…
After watching the movie that was, apparently, so overwhelming I can’t remember anything about it, Bram and I went back to his place. Once there, we took the second acid, brought a portable cassette player loaded with Goa trance, and went to sit outside, in a little park in his neighborhood.
Now, I must say that while I’ve done about 90 percent of my drug use over the years all by my lonesome, tripping on acid with someone you know, and know this well, is something truly special, indeed. Communication in words becomes almost unnecessary. You understand each other instantly, without saying anything. I’ve only experienced that once or twice in my life, that kind of connection with someone. It’s amazing.
It was probably somewhere around midnight by now, so we had the park – and thus the world, and the universe – pretty much to ourselves. And we just sat there. Enlightened by a streetlight right behind us, we sat in the grass, looking at some water in front of us, with the cassette player in between, playing its beautiful, haunting, spacey music… Sometimes we talked, but most of the time we would just sit and watch and listen. Tripping out of our skulls. There were moments when one of us would have enough of the music and turn it off, and the other wouldn’t say a word, and we would just sit and enjoy the silence… And then, some indefinite time later, one of us would have enough of the silence and turn it back on again, and then we would enjoy the music once more. And so it went, back and forth like that, for hours…
Until, eventually, we got tired. We got up, gathered our things, and headed back to his house. When we were almost there, he pointed at something. “See that sidewalk?” he asked. I nodded. “Well,” he said, “I think that’s just about the most beautiful sidewalk I ever saw.” I looked again, and I couldn’t do anything other than confirm. He was right. It was the most beautiful sidewalk in the world.
We went inside and into his room. It was the same sort of room I myself had lived in and would live in again and again throughout my long and wondrous life: small, cheap, messy, and full of crummy, secondhand furniture. Bram was so exhausted he plunged into one of the two big chairs and immediately fell asleep. I sat down in the other, but I didn’t sleep. Not yet…
On the wall across from me hung a little painting. It was a landscape of sorts, although I couldn’t quite make it out in the half-light that filled the room. It didn’t really matter, though. Because in those last few hours before I too fell asleep, I saw the entire history of the universe unfold in that little painting.
Yes. And then, finally, the next morning arrived. Remember how I said I felt reborn after my first trip? That morning, Bram and I both felt as if our minds had been completely cleared of every bit of rubble we’d accumulated in our short lives. For the first time in a long while – or maybe ever – we could think clearly. Very clearly, indeed.
After breakfast, we went outside to a little basketball court and kicked around a half-empty football for a while. It was a bright, sunny morning, with clear blue skies, and all the normal people of the world either went to work or school, and here we were, two dopeheads, playing outside with this flat ball, discussing all the world’s problems, and, smart as we were, coming up with solutions as well. Smart solutions. Real solutions. Freaking brilliant solutions, if I do indeed say so myself…
If only I’d written them down somewhere…
(What? No, we didn’t touch the opium. We didn’t dare.)
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