In a manner much befitting of Sundry, I’ve spent most of this weekend watching movies. My girlfriend is out of town, so I pretty much have free reign to just pick and choose as I will. And that’s exactly what I did, walking through blockbuster, half-drunk. Hmmm… Someone like you, that sounds like it might work, who can resist Ashley Judd in skimpy underwear doing a cheerleading routine. Half Baked, that’ll work, sounds good and dumb. Man in the Moon, wanted to see it, so I might as well. And not wanting to quite take the final step toward something like The Skulls or Jeepers Creepers, and having already seen crap like The Glass House and Don’t Say A Word, I decided on wathing Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas again.
It’s funny how people change, and I’m a great candidate for talking about this. The first time I saw this movie, I must’ve been on some kind of strange moral kick, because I distinctly remember not ever wanting to watch such a disgusting film again. And it is disgusting. But boy is it ever a fun movie. Just watching this movie compares to any drug trip I’ve ever been on. Now, I haven’t participated in quite the gambit of events portrayed in this film, but it’s the spirit and feeling that comes across that’s dead on. There’s just no need to do drugs when there are films like this out there.
But ahhh the memories. I haven’t done drugs in years, and I really have no driving desire to do so, but watching movies like this do bring back memories…
I have no place to live, and this will be the second time this week I’ve had to ask this particular friend if I can crash on his sofa. But it’s a good day. I’ve had my $4 all-you-can-eat meal from J.B.’s, worked out, bought my ninety-nine cent Gatorade, and now I’m off to the university district. It’ll be a good night too… I’ve still got $5 to buy two tabs of acid…
I’m leaving the midnight screening of Akira. Everything is still in a wonderful state of technicolor, and I’m not sure what’s real anymore. The entire world has just blown up, but here I am once again surrounded by the banal dialog of people leaving the theater who just haven’t seen the movie the way I have. Still not satisfied, I wander off into the waiting night…
It’s seven thirty in the morning, and I can’t decide if I should go to school or not. This will be the 3rd day in a row I’ve skipped, but I just don’t have the endurance. Staying up all night on an acid high, playing in parks, avoiding patrolling police cars, and traversing the width of the city on foot just hasn’t left me the energy. And that’s when I run into her. The girl I’ve had a crush on for the last two months. She’s on her way to school, and when she sees me she seems really surprised. “Oh, will you be in class today?”, she asks. I just smile, and when the answer i finally do want to give comes to mind, I open my mouth to say it, only to have her shove the remainder of her breakfast muffin into my mouth. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. Dry, flavorless, not at all the kind of thing you want to have clinging to the inside of your mouth after a drug high…
Now, I don’t necessarily condone the use of drugs, but having done them in my past, I feel some kind of strange connection with those who have, or movies where things like that are shown. Of course my range of drugs is pretty small, not having ever wanted to either develop a habit that would be difficult to break, or just plain die. But I can still empathise with a lot of scenarios.
It was just so damn fun. I have a hard time not feeling like a total hypocrite when I’ve had to look at young kids and say something like “drugs are bad”, “you really shouldn’t use drugs”, or “nothing good can come from drug use”. Suresome drugs are bad, but with excercised control and caution, a little experimentation could be fine. In fact part of me wants to say it should be encouraged, but I’m not going to. Because it’s true, far too many people who use “gateway” drugs do go on to much, much worse things. And wouldn’t I feel like an ass if I told some kid “yeah, you should experiment”, and then they went on to be a crack addict, selling themselves on the street for another hit.
I guess I just don’t know how to feel. Good, bad, good, bad. Maybe that’s what happens when as a child you’re encouraged to try things, but then by the time you’re old enough to do so, you’re suddenly told not to anymore. I don’t know. Maybe that’s why I try not to do them at all anymore, because then at the very least, I can still say “I don’t do drugs”. And that’s not too misleading.
Question: What’s something you do or have done that makes you feel hypocritical?