The Abysmal Life of Crayon

Experience the joys in the life of jaded Sydney-siders Crayon and Jamin-kun.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

Drugs, and why I like them

I'm just remembering today one of the first times I took drugs. I dont know why. You know how something just triggers it, you're sitting at your desk at work, maybe driving your car, perhaps lying in bed staring at the ceiling in the dark...and you are suddenly taken back to that time, that moment, several years ago, a decade ago, a lifetime ago.

When I was 22, I was in Sydney, studying at Uni, and hanging out with a certain "crowd". I remember thinking they were all very cool, I had been introduced to them by my friend from school, Sooshie.

We went out to a club called Sublime in the centre of the city - the club has gone now of course, but the memories still linger.

She had gotten drugs from this group of hers, some pills for us to take. We were meant to meet them there, but it turned out they were going to a party we "werent invited too, sorry man". And so it went, we decided to get completely fucked up on our own with some drugs we'd had little experience with.

We went into the toilets, swallowed these pills, our hearts hammering, and the bitter taste lingering for too long in the backs of our throats.

Back outside the music was pumping. So loud, it vibrated through every bone in your body; so loud, your teeth hurt.

I remember us sitting, lighting cigarettes, and "waiting".

The great thing about drugs is that you are guaranteed a good time, no matter how shit the venue or the people...You know that whatever happens, you are going to be so blown away by it you'll remember it forever.

After a while, I realised I was staring hard at one point of light at the bar, and I was stroking the white part of my cigarette like it was a pet or something.

Everything felt very smooth and wonderful and good and so so right. There was nothing to worry about. Heat surged through my body, up my arms and between my legs. I pressed my thighs together, and trembled, waiting for more.

I looked over at Sooshie, but the look on her face was totally freaked out.

"Crayon," she shouted over the music, "I want to get out of here. I have to get out of here now!"

She got up, and tottered over the exit of the club, and I was like "Oh SHIT, whats going on!"

I tried to stop her falling over, and asked "Are you ok?" but she just pushed past me and out of the club.

Outside, shivering, she started to retch onto the ground in a darkened alley way. There was nothing else I could do but stand near her and rub her back. People glanced in our direction as they walked past in the bright lights of the main street.

In the darkness, suddenly I could feel everything curling up around me, like the darkness was trying to touch me, to drag me into its arms. I said: "Oh cool, this alley way loves me, I think it loves us, Sooshie, its trying to hug us, to show us everything is ok."

Sooshie swung around, wild-eyed, and said to me: "I feel it too. Like its reaching out."

"You're ok now?" I asked

She looked terrible, and was looking about crazily, but said "More or less." in a normal voice.

We both stood in the darkness, out teeth chattering, and feeling the love that the alleyway was so wonderfully trying to show us.

We ended up in Kings Cross that night, a dodgy area of Sydney known for its drugs, brothels, bars, and crime. We were 22 years old, both of us, good girls, University students, and totally out of control.

We met a guy on the street who told us his name was Breton or something. He could tell we were completely out of it, and offered to walk with us, as we "discovered more of the beauty" of the Cross. We thought he was just drunk, but it turned out the litre coke bottle he was drinking out of had some kind of drug in it too. We sat, all three of us, hallucinating at the fountain in the main park.

We were there til dawn.

Of course, it never ends as well as it starts. I was scared of him after the drugs wore off, and realised we had been smoking someones marijuiana that we had bought in a cafe at 4am, and were rolling joints out of a newspaper we found in the park.

And of course, the sun rose, and the reality set it, the awful the truth, our seediness, and after giving an excuse to Breton, I went home with Sooshie, Breton continued on his way to Bondi, which is where he'd been walking when he'd noticed two girls, hand in hand at 1am, walking the streets of Kings Cross.

And so it goes.

At work, or at a lunch somewhere, or with old school friends, with people who know me as the good Crayon, who went to university, studied hard, has a job, and a good family – I suddenly remember these adventures.

I will tell more someday. These are parts of life that remind you every now and then that people cannot always judge you just by what they know... you are not always what people think you are.

And for some reason....that is reassuring.

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