Thursday, June 16, 2016

Sun God(s) and Underworld Dreams; A Modern Myth for the Dope-sick


“Oh my God, babe, check out this view.”

I looked up and followed the sound of Amy’s voice. We stood on the roof of Apollo the abandoned high school on South Marshall. A former local icon, it had been shut down since the late 80’s and like a carcass in the desert, slowly stripped away by scavengers. Ask any dope-fiend and they’ll tell you they’re in the scrapping business. Copper wire, and manhole covers taking the place of traditional currency. Rotting meat replaced with cold metal both provided a means to an end but only one led to ruin. Behind the school, sat Maple Ave, or in local vernacular, the most backwards shit infested slum of a neighborhood in the city. The rotting buildings and all the, flesh-ravaging flora (in the form of dilapidated houses and the infamous Mayberry Projects), that surrounded it were not a pretty sight by any stretch, but Amy looked past all of that. She could see beauty in a lot of things that all the masses of chronically normal people refused to look at.


The sun, dipping past the horizon illuminated the cracks in the walls of forlorn homes and cast long shadows off of the many, many church steeples dotting the sky-line, like a plethora of used needles planted upright in some bizarre junkie ritual.

“I always thought it was funny that this place was called Apollo. When I lived here it was always the first thing I saw every morning on my way to school. The first thing the sun ever touched.”

Amy stood at the edge of the roof, whispering plumes of clove scented smoke lingered in the cool dusk air. Her freshly undercut hair came to life in the dying rays of light. Tumbling down the back of her well-worn NOFX shirt, bending ever-so-slightly to the right as she whipped her head around to look over at me, I was too dumbfounded to say much of anything. But that could have been all the acid I’d eaten over the last couple of days.

“I wish we could live in this moment forever,” I said feeling strangely obligated to stare off into space (no guarantees, but again this was likely due to the recent acid binge[s]).

“We are... Well kind of. I think that really, there's only one moment  that keeps evolving and eventually it starts evolving faster than we can keep up with it.  It builds and builds until it reaches a crescendo and then... it's gone. Well not really but it reaches a point where we're not able to recognize it anymore."

"That must be why people hate drugs... I guess most weren't made to see the big picture."

“Right? Deep down we're all idiots…” she flashed a devious smile before lighting another cigarette.

“We can’t conceive of ourselves as anything more than walking meat-sacks. Or think or sense or feel anything beyond that. Most people would overload their neuro-circut-whatever the fuck makes us human, and turn into a mass of drooling schizos."

I laughed in the jovial way that acid makes a person laugh. A living breathing... thing embodying something or other, worked its way out of my guts, crawled out of my mouth and flopped on the ground. It winked at me with it's flesh colored appendages and dove off the roof. I laughed through the whole thing and then snapped out of it and shifted my attention back to my Amy's Adderal fueled rant.

"We have to think that we’re separate from all of it. That it’s all just one moment at a time. We wake up, we work, we go to the bar, we go to sleep but it isn’t and we aren’t. It’s just our hive mind of monkey-brains beating their chests and throwing shit at each other.”

I stared at the pretty lights radiating from the sky.

“But... if we can shut our brains off long enough to enjoy the sunset, I’m okay with that.” she said scooting closer, instinctively grasping my hand.

Amy and I sat on the thin, weather torn ledge separating us from the ground. The fading sun melting with our bodies in a kaleidoscope of pastel tinged streams, her hand brushing against mine, our bodies slowly merging into one, our hydra heads eating each-other while sharing a kiss within our Greco-Roman temple in the hood.

“I hope you're right.” I said in between the paces of my racing heart, accelerated by micro-doses of acid, the glow of amphetamines, thoughts of life love, life and a Pandora's box of other things I didn't understand.

"Because I really want this to last forever.”


“There is no sin in my body. I have not spoken that which is not true knowingly, nor have I done anything with a false heart. Grant you that I may be like to those favoured ones who are in your following, and that I may be an Osiris greatly favoured of the beautiful god, and beloved of the Lord of the Two Lands, I am Ra, who stablisheth those who praise him. I am the Knot of the god within the Aser tree, and my appearance is the appearance of Ra on this day.”                                                                    
- The Papyrus of Anil

I woke up in a pile of my own coagulated vomit, (there may have been some blood thrown in there too, who knows). After washing down enough oxies to kill a horse with a fifth of Crown, violently spewing my guts out was pretty much the only logical outcome given the circumstances. School had ended for the summer, I was staying with my Uncle Jack (by marriage) in po-dunk nowhere, occasionally working with him on his farm but mostly eating pills. I’d copped a ball of MDMA (or “Mollie” whatever the fuck that meant these days) and managed to find some local kids to sell too, but they were infrequent customers and pretty spun out for as young as they were… bright, bright futures in store for those folks.

“So this guy you workin for, you said he has anhydrous right?” Christian asked while fidgeting with his sagging Jnco jeans, scratching his head and nearly dropping the cigarette dangling behind his ear.

“Yeah, I mean he’s a farmer so it kind of stands to re…”

“Okay, okay cool. You ever try to boost that shit dog? I know a guy who can boost a tank quicker and cleaner than anyone I’ve ever seen. They call him Ghost because he's…”

“I’m okay on all that man. You don’t wana fuck with that stuff. Trust me, it isn’t worth it... Now you said you wanted 3 points right?”

“Yeah, three points… maaaaan I’m tellin ya, fat stacks with that hydro man. Fat fuckin stacks.”

“I’ll take my chances... Bye.”

I cut myself a line after promptly shutting the door, sitting in my golden cage high on OxyContin and some novel synthetic stimulant, I wondered if the hydra had been slain. The magic had faded a long time ago. I no longer felt the glow, just the fallout. The once glittery feelings of euphoria had over time, morphed into a hellish speedball of paranoia and stomach cramps. The worst part about all of this, was that I was out of whiskey. I checked to see if Uncle Jack was around, and made my way outside every cell in my body determined to head to the local bar. The stale smell of last night’s pack of smokes and a thick sense of dread-tinged stimulant-induced psychosis followed close behind me.

“Will this moment really last forever?”

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