Too much has happened to get it all down now, but I am bursting with stuff to write about. Just an account of getting to the party and the party itself is going to make for some (hopefully) good reading. And I have a stack of fiction ideas too. Maybe even a novel, and the energy to throw myself into a novel. It's been a blast.
But following on from the previous post... we stayed at the same motel after Exodus and the orgy lady said they were really busy. "I don't know what's going on for this time of the week. I think there must be a huge drug party on somewhere."
Standing there unshaven, sunburned and sore from dancing for three days, still wearing my party wrist band, dribbling mushroom tea, syringes hanging out of my arms, a shtoopie hanging from my lips, acid-snakes oozing from my pores as I sweated pure A-grade heroin with pockets bulging with mescalin, I looked at her through my bloodshot, pin-prick eyes and felt kind of sheepish...
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4 comments:
She sounds like a real sharp broad. Maybe she's on to you. Maybe she wants to get in on the orgy and/or the drug party, no?
It can't hurt to ask.
Um... the very thought makes me shudder.
Thing is, by far the most common drug at the "drug parties" was booze. Why did she not call them drink parties?
Maybe once there was a drug party, and the way older folks do, they label everything the same after one experience.
Older folks can be a tad dramatic though we don't expect them to be. I hang out with them and boy, they suprise me all the time.
Hang on a minute, it wasn't that long ago you were proud you got mud on your hands and didn't freak out. And now you expect me to believe you've gone unwashed for how long???
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