Sleepy Saturday — Acid Dreams
I WOKE UP about an hour ago after having slept for SEVEN HOURS — that’s 7 hrs on top of the 8 hrs or so I slept last night. In fact I know I slept well last night as I woke at 10:30 which is really late for me. Usually I’m up at 5:30… Hang on, what’s “usual” about my sleep? It goes round in cog-like circles. You never know which little cycle it’s going to pass on to. I know I’m often awake at 5:30 because that’s when BBC World Service passes over to Radio 4 on the analogue transmitters and shortly after handover a programme called Farming Today comes on, all about prime steaks and winegrowing and cheeses— not so much “boring” as yummeee!!
Yes I did meet a person of doubtful provenance on a mountain bike at about 11:30 this morning and this may explain part of my drowsiness. But today’s big sleep came on too late (at about 2pm and it doesn’t take me THAT long to get a vein) and lasted too long. The drowsing effect of heroin does indeed last the 4-hrs specified in certain textbooks. (How do you think I know the little bits and pieces I scatter throughout this blog? I used to own a mini drugs books collection…)
I’m not getting depressed though I’m not getting depressed I’m not — my mantra. Breathe deep, relax. Getting down is just a fact of life. I’ve seriously tried to “cure” my downs with positive thinking: with only mixed results.
There’s not a huge lot to say today. Maybe I ought to mention the nightmares I keep getting. Also (more infrequently) some ultra-farout acid dreams. Brainfrazzlingly weird ones that I couldn’t describe in any meaningful detail. You know (if you’ve taken it) when everything goes like a computer game. And then the game gives way to the abstract codes behind it? Well some of that. Plus imagine you’ve been at a rave all night. It is now late… too late for you, you’d rather be in bed but it’s midday, the party shows no sign of stopping, daylight is burning in your head: and,more to the point your brains are frying so bad you’re like the experimental spider in the 1960s that stopped spinning beautiful orb-webs on acid and just span a dirty great blob of stickiness as the microgram-count eventually got too high. I often bear that spider in mind when I think of hard acid. I think the tale is true, but it’s also a damn good metaphor for what’s happened to me and a great many others…
On that note I’m saying goodbye, folks. In the words of Mr Springer: Take care of yourselves. And each other.