Ryan Postma
Journal Entry 3/2/96
12:38 pm
Wall, South Dakota


Jeff got us inside, and said something to the effect of “foo” as he did so. I let it slide. Now everyone is running around and checking the place out, this secret garden we’ve borrowed from the city. Nate and Plakke are carefully and methodically locking all the doors that lead to the outside (it’s happening outside), locking out all contingencies, locks and bolts and bars all clicking and turning and falling into place, safely and succinctly, simply putting our collective mind at ease. Chris and Rob have taken it upon themselves to light lanterns and hang them in all the spookiest places, leading me to wonder if their intention was to truly give light to the darkness or just bring nightmare form to the shadows that were already here. Cliff decides that Jhasen should be brought inside for reasons of temperature and presence. I was feeling at ease, in my usual place of comfort, having climbed high up into the rafters of a leather shop, looking down on all the activity and chatter and excitement of a new place all our own. Hanging there with one arm down and legs swinging around to various beams, doing my best Mowgli impersonation complete with hoots and hunting calls (we’re all a little excited).

Sally is standing below me giving me that Sally look, motherly concern and longing tinged with not a little “What are you crazy?”. I jump down, grab her hand and we duck into a toy store, falling into a pile of stuffed animals, at least that’s what I think they are. It’s almost pitch black in here. We lie there for awhile, not saying anything, just catching our breath and playing with each other’s heads. Sally gets behind me and begins giving me a wonderful backrub, easing my shoulders back to the form God had meant for them, then she whispers in my ear “Why are we taking lsd?”

My tongue crumbles inside my mouth.

Why are we taking lsd? I don’t know. I remember asking myself that question the first time I took it, and countless times before when others took it and I abstained. I rarely asked myself the question after my first time. There seemed to be hundreds of reasons and right now I can’t seem to think of a single one. Why are we taking lsd? Maybe we’re taking it because it’ll be hysterical to be able to trip in such a place as this, where anything you could want--any trip toy, music, food or freak out--is at your fingertips; where you don’t have to clean up the next day. Maybe. Maybe we’re taking it to unify us, acid has a definite tendency to put everyone taking it into a similar mindset, to put them on the same team--though at times it can tear down those alliances as well--although I think that Jhasen’s dying has pretty well unified us already. I’ve never felt closer to this group of people than right now. Maybe we’re taking it to purify ourselves before we go on to the real meat of this journey. We all washed in the “River Jordan” yesterday, washed out all of our fears and shortcomings, baptized ourselves with ritual, washing of the water. Ritual is all that that was, however, and sometimes ritual isn’t enough. Ritual is only a placebo to calm oneself. Water only washes the outside, (it’s happening outside) cleaning off the dirt and blood and sweat, so we emerge naked and gleaming to our piles of clothing on the shore. Lsd washes the inside, cleaning off the subtleties of fear and intention and hesitation, so we emerge confident and ecstatic to our convoy of vehicles on the outside.

Pleasure, Purpose, Purity. Why are we taking lsd?

I lean back against Sally, feeling her breasts press against my back, feeling her hair tickle my cheek. She rests her chin on my shoulder with her quiet little “humph.” I can’t help but think “Girl, you’ll be a woman soon” and smile to myself. We’re taking lsd for all of these reasons. We’re taking it to see what we can see and then? We’ll see.

Scott calls all of us into one of the gypsy hallways with a megaphone he picked up somewhere. In one hand he holds the oddest bong I’ve ever seen, it looks like he fashioned it out of a lamp of some kind. Glad one of us graduated from college. Spread on a makeshift table before him are ten little bottles, each filled with a reddish-orange liquid. On each bottle there is a little tag and for just a second I would swear that one said “drink me”, but a closer look and I could make out our names written neatly in Scott’s meticulous handwriting.

One by one we take a step up to the table: Mike, Nate, Sally, Chris, Plakke, Jeff, Rob, Cliff, Scott and me. One by one we drink what there is to drink. Jhasen lies in his frosty sarcophagus, waiting. Take off time: 1:12 pm

The feeling begins.


“With one wish we wake the will
within wisdom.
With one will we wish the wisdom
within waking.
Woken, Wishing, Willing.”



-Brendan Perry-






-dem bones-
--Letters from a Savior; Offer for a few--


back--forward

Log in or registerto write something here or to contact authors.