We’ve got some pot, good stuff, not skunkweed, Dan has acid—blotter, white dragon, single hit, I take one, Dan takes two, Mike takes two. It’s the 4th of July and me and Dan and Mike are gonna trip and hang out except we don't have anywhere to hang; Dan is my drug-dealing, rockabilly wannabe loser boyfriend, Mike there's his best friend. 

We pool our money and we get some beer and buy some gas for Dan's mother's car we buy enough to fill the tank, that car is pimped out 80's style red and white and silver trim and money-wise we're broke but we’ve got half an ounce of primo weed, blotter acid, beer, and a full tank of gas, I’m 16, they’re 17, it’s the 4th of July and Saturday night in Memphis, TN.

We drive around laughing our asses off ‘cause on acid everything is funny, we’re at a stoplight on Jackson Ave., it’s about 11:30 or twelve, this old lady teeters out to the middle of Jackson Avenue in her old-lady nightie, she just stops in the middle of the intersection and lifts up that old-lady nightie and starts peein' in the middle of the street, and that'd be sad any other time but it’s hilarious right now and we find this old rundown mom-and-pop grocery store called the "Sit and Chew" which doesn't sound that funny now, but you had to be there and you had to be on blotter acid.

By now it’s pretty late, Dan and Mike take me home we sit in my parents’ driveway and smoke another joint for what seems like hours and is probably more like 15 minutes, tops, I’m disappointed in that single-hit white dragon blotter acid though, I should have a good 4-6 hours left I swear I feel like I’m coming down.

Even so I won’t sleep for hours yet I brush my hair just to feel those little silver tingles in my head and then I want to lay there in the dark, write words in the air and watch the trails my fingers make I lean in closer to the mirror my pupils look like black marbles I stare at them so long you’d think they hold the keys to the kingdom and just like that, I'm gone. 

Just like that everything is gone, all I see is static like a tv screen when the weather's bad this isn't right, something’s really really wrong; think of something simple what's 2 + 2, I don't know what 2 + 2 is but I do know that is fucking bad not knowing what 2+ 2 is I turn the lights out sit in that dark room chase my mind across continents that don't exist

they talk about the power of the mind I thought it was all bullshit maybe it is but I want my thoughts and memories and feelings back even if they suck I want them back being blank is worse. 




Over and over and over and the guy on the radio says it's the anniversary of Jimi Hendrix's death I didn't kill Jimi Hendrix this is never going to end they'll put me in a glass cage with airholes and a sign that says WHY YOU SHOULDN'T DO ACID and once a month they'll send a doctor in to ask me what 2+2 is and I still can’t say and I still don’t know which means I'm still alive and that I'm dead. 


I’m a small gal, 5'2', at 16, I’m rail-thin, little itty bitty.

Dan and Mike, they’re big stout fellas…and it makes more sense now, but still, I should kick both their asses, from here to kingdom come..that blotter acid we took, the single-hit, white dragon--

turns out Dan and Mike forgot to tell me they were 4-way hits.



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