For reasons that are about to become painfully obvious, the author wishes to remain anonymous. Illustration by Kieron Black.
DISCLAIMER: Not even Mr. Rat would advocate snowboarding WHILE on drugs. You didn’t really need us to spell that out, did you?
Fuck, I’ve given it a good go, over the years like, but I never really got that good at it. I mean, I passed the entry level pretty quickly, got well into it, spent the money, burnt the hours, but only rarely, and so fleetingly, did I feel like I was doing it right.
I am of course talking about drugs. Grass, resin, meth-amphetamine (such a punk-rock drug that one), coke, acid, mescal, pills, Ritalin… stopping only when needles or eyeballs were involved. With only a moment’s pause I’d throw it down my neck or up my nose and set off on an adventure that nine times out of ten ended up prefaced with a ‘mis’.
“Sometimes it was so right, like every heartbeat was a soft explosion of white joy. floating, observing, realising, just pulsing with the simple pleasure of an enhanced existence”
And don’t be believing any ‘alternative facts’ on this one – it wasn’t all bad. Yes, there was the time I passed out in a strange woman’s bed and woke up to find her licking my own shit off my nether regions (OK, so it was chocolate mousse that she had put there in a desperate bid to bring me round, but I didn’t know that at the time).
There was the time I got arrested for shooting a tourist between the eyes with a soft-airgun (that was a great shot), and the time a girl I really liked came round to mine so I could print out her CV, only to find I had at some time during the previous 48hour amphetamine bender I had pissed all over my laser printer… Good times.
What was I talking about? Oh yes, drugs. Aye, it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes it was so right, like every heartbeat was a soft explosion of white joy. Floating, observing, realising, just pulsing with the simple pleasure of an enhanced existence… knowing that the comedown is hours away… knowing nothing… knowing everything.
But hey, all good times have to end. I got sick, I recovered, and I stopped doing drugs. And when I got well again I got married, started a family, levelled out, and life is good now (occasionally I might still do a bit of Ritalin, but hey, some people beat their kids.) But the point is I don’t miss those times, and I’m glad I had them, and apart from a bit of short-term memory loss, I’ve no real regrets.