drugs

A lot of people recoil from the word "drugs" - which is understandable given today's noxious street drugs and their uninspiring medical counterparts. Yet even academics and intellectuals in our society typically take the prototypical dumb drug, ethyl alcohol. If it's socially acceptable to take a drug that makes you temporarily happy and stupid, then why not rationally design drugs to make people perpetually happier and smarter? Presumably, in order to limit abuse-potential, one would want any ideal pleasure drug to be akin - in one limited but important sense - to nicotine, where the smoker's brain finely calibrates its optimal level: there is no uncontrolled dose-escalation.

To demand that a person pee in a cup whenever you wish him to, without a documented reason to suspect that he has been using an illegal drug, is intolerable in our republic. You are saying to him, "I wonder if you are not behaving in a way that I approve of. Convince me that you indeed are.Outrageous.Intolerable.

Imagine a society that subjects people to conditions that make them terribly unhappy then gives them the drugs to take away their unhappiness. Science fiction It is already happening to some extent in our own society. Instead of removing the conditions that make people depressed modern society gives them antidepressant drugs. In effect antidepressants are a means of modifying an individual's internal state in such a way as to enable him to tolerate social conditions that he would otherwise find intolerable.

To me, God is like this happy bus driver.

Dope.They sell that shit to schoolkids.It's worse than that.How's that?Schoolkids buy it.

How many of us readers say this quote and mean it. "If I knew what I know now life would be different"....

When you were strung outand I kissed youI imagined your moutha mound of cocaine,inhaling your breathlike powder as I pushed into you and you pulledme with your bruised thighs.Some nights we fucked soslowly I dissolvedlike a Quaalude in a glassof vodka, and you drankme down. We kept the room dark,so we could not seeeach other with our eyesrolled back - or was itbecause we did not wantto see ourselves.It's taken me too long to thinkof that, the way we neverthought the other would go,and then one nightI woke upsoberand yes,still there.

Sometimes work was just what you clocked into while you were falling in love. Sometimes sex was just something you did while you weren't at work. Drugs were something you did sometimes when you couldn't deal with one of those things, or with yourself. The City was so expensive and so grueling sometimes that it was easy to be unsure why you were there. Many were there to make money, money that could largely only be made there, in the long spiny arms of industries that could never grow anywhere else or anywhere smaller. Some people just liked it, its loudness and crowdedness and surprises. Some started there for a reason and then couldn't imagine being anywhere else, but maybe lost track of that reason along the way. Some people had a plan. Some were just chancing it. Either way the months flew by, and over the years you came up with something or you came up with not much.

Don't ever think you're better than a drug addict, because your brain works the same as theirs. You have the same circuits. And drugs would affect your brain in the same way it affects theirs. The same thought process that makes them screw up over and over again would make you screw up over and over as well, if you were in their shoes. You probably already are doing it, just not with heroin or crack, but with food or cigarettes, or something else you shouldn't be doing.

I have a very addictive personality. If it isn__ women, it__ money. If it isn__ money, it__ speeding. And if it isn__ speeding, it__ women. I also like expensive video consoles where I can punch, kick, screw, shoot and drive legally all night anywhere I fucking well want to.

That first drunk, first high, first sexual encounter, those feelings of first are the most intense, the best remembered, always impossible to attain again.

Sex had nothing to do with feeling good, everything to do with superficialities, and was always accompanied by a masochistic agenda to feel anything but dead inside.

I'd done it, I'd crossed the line between accepted behavior and behavior most of the population would consider a lynching offense, and that morning I felt as real as any of the men in the Escape commercials. It had been dirty and nasty but I wanted more.

Lovecraft says he knows about tentaclesbut that motherfucker never bedded a girl from West Chesterand survivedShe was a toothachethat oneand she tasted like crackthe best thing about her was if I was ever hungryI could always make a meal out of whateverwas making rest at the corners of her mouthI can't remember her nameas is the case with most of themthen again I can't rememberhow many donuts I ate this morningor how many beers I'll drink tonight,tomorrow

Stab your demoniac smile to my brain,Soak me in cognac, love, and cocaine

Life will hack off your head and shit down your neck every chance it gets. I've found that consuming drugs and booze, listening to music and always having an excuse in the best way to tip the scales.

Was I on something? Yes, love. The strongest drug there is.

Don't get me wrong, she was an attractive girl, but the last thing she needed was to get mixed up with me.