TRUE PSYCHEDELIC TRIPS! MIND-BLOWER #9 – EARLY 1970S A MONSTER, MESCALINE AND COOL JAZZ
Whenever the people I ran with got together we always had a good time, we were a fun bunch of Psychedelic Kidz. But sometimes things could escalate into fun for some and not so much fun for others; the bong scene from the Mike Judge movie “Extract” reminded me of just that.
It was night time at a girlfriend’s apartment and we were all getting way too stoned on a combo of psychedelics and a dusted joint of PCP (the “good” stuff) and Dealer Mike (from Hippie Road Trip) kept “turning into a monster” and mentally attacking his good friend who was sitting next to him on the floor.
Now Mike was the master of sophistication and manipulation and had a full beard and long frizzy hair and with widened wild eyes he played his part well, but his poor buddy was obviously seeing it in a more sur-real vein than intended.
At first he sensed the joke but under the spell of the drugs he succumbed more to the possible reality that Mike was really turning into a monster and asked him to return to his human form.
Mike relented only long enough to come back and do it again, only more so. The rest of us were amused to the point of subdued laughter, as he wasn’t doing it to us. But I could tell in my own state of weirdness that Mike’s monster could be very intimidating.
Soon Mike had his buddy pleading to stop with plaintiff reasons of, “… but I’m your partner!”, but that had no effect on the merciless Mike. Eventually his buddy and our friend had to get up to escape, whereby Mike apologized and told him he wouldn’t become a monster anymore, so he reluctantly sat back down.
We had all reached that place on the fringes of reality where it could only take a little nudge to enter a swinging saloon door into a world of our friend’s viewpoint – and thus protected ourselves with nervous laughter as we didn’t want the monster to come after us – even though we had been enjoying the “seriously innocent” show.
After the the joint made the rounds again, Mike slowly turned his head toward his buddy, eyes wild and in a scary, creepy menacing way turned into a monster again – and that was it – our friend got up and left.
While I had empathy for our psychically-attacked friend, I was filled with cosmic schadenfreude and couldn’t stop laughing – all the while knowing that a monster was in our midst.
My good buddy and I scored a quantity of Green Mescaline, bought some horsecaps and on one sunny Saturday commenced to some serious “‘cappin'” at my apartment which was isolated above alley garages.
Since we were not dealers per se, we had no intent to “cut” the mescaline which was commonly done with either lactose, flour or rat poison (Strychnine) – I’m sure I had a few psychedelic hits in the past that were cut with poison where my stomach severely knotted and that’s a sure sign of a low dose of Strychnine. Having sampled the mescaline previously we knew this strain to be of good quality which is why we purchased a decent quantity.
Anyway, we would scoop the green powder into each half capsule and push them together until the trapped air inside made a little high-pitched burp noise and then we would set the ready-to-take mescaline horsecap aside. With each cap we’d invariably get some green “dust” on our fingers in the process and would then lick our fingers to make them tactile enough to continue.
After about a dozen or so caps apiece we were starting to get a little giddy and seemed to be having quite a lot of fun with our “job”. At first it didn’t dawn on us that we were slowly dosing ourselves with the mescaline dust and after a while we decided to take a break and smoke a joint. By then I was starting to see some faint trails coming off my fingers.
Once we resumed cappin’ and our conversations became more spacey I realized that we were actually probably taking in more “dust” than we thought as we were comin’ on pretty strong – it was good mescaline, and good mescaline was unlike LSD which could have a pretty strong uptake during the come-on process whereas with mescaline the build was steady and strong but pretty smooth – at least that was my experience and especially with this strain – so instead of “whistlin’ while we worked” we were “trippin’ while we worked”.
By the time we finished we decided to each down a cap to make it official and then had the entrepreneurial bright idea to proceed to use ourselves as perfect marketing examples of what our product was capable of.
So with our feet barely touching the ground and powered by the psychedelic “Green” strangeness, we drifted out the door, levitated down the stairs and floated out to my buddy’s car all the while feeling as though we just emerged into a bright and colorful cosmic version of the world we previously knew.
Once in the car, which was now a “space”mobile, we hovered off to hit up our freaky friends for some psychedelic transactions.
Over time we sold our stock, made a small financial profit and had a nice free stash of quality green mescaline to last for a few concerts, parties, get-togethers and just for cosmic fun any day. Far Out!
One of my close “Mike” friends (not Monster Mike) was friends with a big time dealer, D.E., who literally got run out of the hip resort, Park City, Utah for dealing “too much”. The authorities didn’t want to arrest him as that would make him a martyr to all the rich folks and celebrities who lived and vacationed there and who were his customers. He’d supply Stevie Winwood when he was in L.A. and was the kind of guy who paid cash for a brand new four-wheel drive truck right off the showroom floor.
Anyway, after closing-up the Crane’s Record Store in Palos Verdes that I managed, I drove over to D.E.’s house where I met Mike. I was greeted with a heaping bowl of hashish and sat down on the couch and lit a hit.
Up on the bar D.E. was working a coping saw on what looked like a huge cheese wheel, but it was a nice rich deep tan color, the same color as the hash I was smoking.
This wheel was at least three inches thick in height and about six inches in diameter; when I realized that it was the hash, my jaw just dropped, I had never even seen or heard of such a thing.
As the thin blade was cutting through the hash, fine crumbles gathered at the base and Mike got up and scooped them into the bowl so we could fire up some more.
As I hit the pipe D.E. informed me that he had two more “wheels” bagged and hanging from limbs way up high in a tree in his backyard; I didn’t ask why, must’ve been to keep them out of the house, out of view and out of the scent of drug-sniffing dogs.
As I took another hit Mike gave me a short tubular brown “barrel” pill that was supposed to be THC. I took it as I grooved to the sounds of a current cool jazz album coming from D.E.’s state-of-the-art sound system that gloriously filled the room.
A few minutes later I attempted to get up off the couch to hit the head when it felt like I had lead weights in my arms, ass and legs – I couldn’t get up – I literally could not move my muscles.
Mike just laughed as he realized that it wasn’t a barrel of THC that he had given me but an elephant tranquilizer! He wasn’t falsely dosin’ me – he had some of both and they looked similar – oh well, honest mistake, I wasn’t mad at all, I mean it actually was very relaxing – duh, it was an elephant tranquilizer!
I had taken Tetrahydrocannabinol (the active ingredient in marijuana) before and this was not THC!
So I just sat back, as I had no other choice, and let the psychedelic wave of righteous hash swirl me around the room in an out of body experience with the sounds of cool jazz absorbing and passing through my tranquil body and mind as I explored the heavens.
I enjoyed this altered-state until awhile later when I was able to become ambulatory. Groovy!