I decided it's be fun to do more writing about my drug days.

Afterall, one of my reasons for "experimenting" so much was that I intended to write about my adventures like the great drug-fueled writers I admired such as Hunter S. Thompson. I would continue calling myself a "drug enthusiast" for years to come before realizing I had crossed into being a drug addict and without best-selling books or the talent to write them, a journalism career, and all the money it was not a lavish lifestyle. It started out fun and intense but as you grow older it becomes sad pretty quickly.

The Party Apartment.

But, this is about the beginning. This is a story about my first apartment. I moved in with my best friend when I was 19 and what ensued was filled with cocaine, LSD, and funneling beer into our gullets via homemade bongs. We didn't maintain having this apartment for very long as one can imagine. But it was something if you were there to live that year.

So, the first thing you need to know is we had a constant supply to LSD or something like it. Sometimes it was pure sometimes it was research chemicals. While living in this apartment I had experiences where I really pushed it to the limit. I did 8 hits at once on several occasions, completely losing my mind. One of those times I ended up just repeating the same sentence for hours and it was about the worst sentence you would want to hear you got "stuck" on during an LSD trip gone bad. Something about how I would fuck myself. Seriously. I think I meant like if there were a clone me, I would fuck it. In my mind I remember being in the woods, surrounded by people that weren't there. I wasn't even in that room with those people which is why I was just repeating the last sentence I had said over and over.

But, I digress... So. in between nights of tripping which usually went well when we didn't accidentally take way too much or have some asshole intentionally give us an insane dose like in the story above. We would drink so much that we never had enough alcohol. There was always a full apartment. People would each bring a case of beer, and if we were lucky liquor, and it'd be gone before we had wanted to wrap up, every time. Usually we play silly games like ring of fire, but if not we always had the beer bong draped over the shower rod where we could funnel the booze into our faces faster than necessary.

One of these parties would change the atmosphere in the party house forever...

During a birthday party that was very successful. People wrapped around our steps outside because our 2 bedroom apartment can't contain them everything would change. -Let me just mention, we lived in a complex full of drug dealers and crime and people DID NOT call the police. We never had the police called on us which still amazes me.- My best friend and I went downstairs and bumped into a big Mexican dude that spoke pretty much no English. My friend and I invited him to the party using signs or something. This guy turned out to be a cocaine dealer. That night we did an 8 ball and from that point on cocaine became a regular thing at the apartment.

Our apartment became the place to be every night. It was trashed. The carpet practically black when it had been off-white. We ate shared ramen noodles out of a big pot sometimes because all our dishes were filthy. It didn't take long for us to grow out of this life-style and get to wit ends. Also, our third roommate was a prick and impossible to live with so our time at this apartment would be short-lived. For the better part of a year though it was where everyone went to have a good time. And there was always something happening. On the "tame" nights at the very least we'd have a few cases of beer.

I would often get home from my day working at the video store and find my apartment entirely full with people. Some I knew, some I didn't. One time each room had another 8 ball being dealt with by people. I think this may have been the point when I told everyone NO MORE COCAINE. I just wanted to get home and nap and not have people I couldn't communicate using my bed to get coke into their noses. But, as I had now been doing cocaine regularly I was addicted. I couldn't just stop on my own. So, I called some friends and asked them to get me.

The friends were into BDSM hardcore, fulltime. She would sometimes be made to sleep in a cage. I didn't know the master well but was friends with the sub and she told him I needed rescuing. By the time I was in the car and half way to their place I regretted my decision. I had already done coke that night and wanted more, just as I knew I would. I pleaded with them to take me back. I had changed my mind. They did not. They made me stay in a room at their place until they were sure I was done doing cocaine. Then I went back to the party place and everyone at least pretended they were done with cocaine. As long as I didn't see it I was fine.

Well, I am realizing that the stories about this place are endless. So, perhaps this will be part 1?

All photo from Pixabay It sure isn't easy finding good drug related stock photos.