0h... Groan

“What time is it? asked Sam’s neatly wrapped body, just his head uncovered. Then he rolled his eyes back wards in his head to indicate the clock on the bedside table.

“It is 8am.”

“Okay good, you can go back to sleep now.”

I tucked myself back down under the doona.

“Do you agree that the tina wasn’t so good?”

“Yes, I guess.”

I didn’t feel any huge whack and take off, or "now I’m really tweaked." It didn't happen noticeably. It is true, the second night didn’t seem to have any great affect, not that that should be really that surprising, hey?

But, there were two distinct occasions when I stopped and thought I am really fucken whacked.

The first time was the early hours of Friday morning, I think it was because the sun was coming up, was nearly up, had come up, and the light was hanging in the air, new, disorientating. It must have been light out side, but I wasn't looking that far, though. On several occasions I thought that we should stop laying around in the lounge room naked, half naked and go to bed so as not to disturb Shane... to look around the room and slowly realise that we were on my bed watching my TV in my bedroom. Of course we were. I think I thought that more than twice.

Should I mention at this point that Shane was in Sydney? (chasing pretty Arab boys)

The other occasion was probably twenty four hours later, when I was pissing in the upstairs bathroom, and first of all I noticed that the tiles were on the wall in 3D and there seemed to be so much grout that the whole thing stood out in 3D like a grid, or tracks, or lines, completely linear. Then when I looked around the room, every straight edge appeared to have bold, stand out, treatment, kind of suspending every hard edge in the room in a 3d grid pattern.

9.11am and I am downstairs with coffee. I felt wrecked, truthfully. Grrr!

Sam staid in bed, he said he was very comfortable. I had to get up, change the scenery, it hits you like that some time.

OMG! Missy did not stop bleating at me this morning, not for a nano second, she was on a non-stop staccato beat, like water dripping. Waterboarding, Guantamano Bay. She hadn’t been fed since Thursday night. Ooops. Catch a mouse. I could have so easily picked her up and thrown her against the wall, for her meowing. And without too much guilt afterwards, if I really did, “She was old. Too bad.”

See, it’s not just yourself you hurt when you do drugs, kids, remember that.

So, what we need are drug maids, to clean up afterwards. Oh bugger it, drug P.A.s so they could take over the entire process and not just concern themselves with the clean up.

I made coffee slowly, very slowly. It seemed like a nice day, I wasn’t sure, I couldn’t tell.

I have a blue patch in my eyesight from too much amyl. I have the green patch in short vision. I have a new effect, anything with light, the reflection of the shine of the sun. Light effects on TV. The shine of light seeping in under the door. Some sort of brightness from a light source. Any layer of light, as in a layer in a photo. Any type of reflection of light, appears to be silver with electric blue dots, or the same but with red patterns. There is also another new effect, the grey/burn patch on the printed page onscreen.

Shit!

Oh, you know, I really do feel very poorly – aches and pains, nervous disposition, and that slight body shuddering, especially when “forward or go" moves are selected. I feel unsettled and diminished and small and kind of bent over – and not in a good way. Funny about that. Some reds are appearing as greens, like colour blindness. Although, they are not completely green instead of red, they can change colour, or proportions of red and green. And stripes are quite prevalent.

Apparently, everyone get’s that, as an aftermath of using poppers. The trouble is that I never used to way back when I used to sniff it a lot. So why now?

Stupid me, I haven’t sniffed amyl since the first time this happened. I’m an idiot! That was a blue shadow in my eyesight. It lasted a day, or so then. I don’t even like the stuff. It is just that Sam likes it and I’ve succumbed watching him do it.

I’ve got the after drugs slant happening. I’ve got a thick head, such a thick head [of course, the joints don’t help that] and stressed neck, down the back of my skull. I have the confused what-to-do’s happening. I feel wizened up and feeble. I have that strange sense of needing to escape; that frustrated, never realised sense of urgency, that, I think, is a direct reflection of the feeling that I couldn’t, actually, escape even if I wanted to. For the present, I am incapable, or at least, I feel like I am. It is kind of an inverted effect. A reality some how manifests itself in me as a need, simply because I am feeling like I couldn’t do it, I don’t have the capability.

I feel like shit. It is all coming from my neck, every semblance of stress I have caused my body from staying up and misbehaving all night, two nights in a row, is now manifesting itself in my neck. The stupidity, the pain, the shakes, are all emanating from that part of my body.

Shrug, maybe a nurofen would help it.

It is kind of cold, despite the sun attempting to shine and bring warmth.

I made jelly.

Numb. I have the shakes. I have to lie down. But that is mostly from the pot I’ve been smoking, it’s a calmative.

Peach & mango yogurt is particularly good at this point, I might just add. Very sweet. Lots of sugar, I suspect.