Thorazine
I do not use a lot of illegal drugs and that's because such consumption is simply not covenient at this point in time. Not to mention I am more mature than the young man looking like me, but fresher, who was formerly into random abuses. I mean I used to pick up pills off the street, and convinced I was acting in the name of science, eat them. I got a hold of some thorazine once, given to me by this madman with a convincing smile, whom I had met inside a smoking van (it would finally throw a rod south of San Franciso) full of fellow hitchhikers after stepping off that rock in front of the Mercedes dealership in Santa Barbara that says "stand here" after escaping unscathed that strip search at the border of Mexico the previous day. I was making extraordinarily good time for a hitchhiker. I had not even made it to the end of the entrance ramp in El Paso, or even stuck my thumb out, when two young men in a small pick-up determined to drive non-stop had picked me up on their way to Santa Barbara. What I was doing out there in the great american west was being a college dropout, a work avoider, a mundanity suppressor, a scaredy cat. Anyway, I knew precious little about thorazine except I had seen it work wonders at a party in Austin where a fellow was having adverse reactions to one of those hallucinogenic chemicals. Also, I had had brief discussions about it with another fellow who worked at the state hospital there in Austin. I was not completely ignorant on the subject because I was aware of the term "thorazine shuffle," which as it turned out for me was a slightly painful, most embarrassing, contraction of various muscles which caused me to move through the streets of San Francisco looking like a poorly conceived, cheaply imitative, Hollywood Igor. My home in San Francisco was an underpass at Second and Folsom, or thereabouts, and where I ended up that day was at a movie theatre near that chocolate factory by the bay where I hid out in the dark watching the original run of Hollywood's version of Keroac, the one in which I think it was Nick Nolte playing Neal Cassady. It was a painful day the day I learned thorazine is not a recreational drug. And, not to talk down to you, or be overly obvious, but that earlier part about being more mature was a joke.
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I do not use a lot of illegal drugs and that's because such consumption is simply not covenient at this point in time. Not to mention I am more mature than the young man looking like me, but fresher, who was formerly into random abuses. I mean I used to pick up pills off the street, and convinced I was acting in the name of science, eat them. I got a hold of some thorazine once, given to me by this madman with a convincing smile, whom I had met inside a smoking van (it would finally throw a rod south of San Franciso) full of fellow hitchhikers after stepping off that rock in front of the Mercedes dealership in Santa Barbara that says "stand here" after escaping unscathed that strip search at the border of Mexico the previous day. I was making extraordinarily good time for a hitchhiker. I had not even made it to the end of the entrance ramp in El Paso, or even stuck my thumb out, when two young men in a small pick-up determined to drive non-stop had picked me up on their way to Santa Barbara. What I was doing out there in the great american west was being a college dropout, a work avoider, a mundanity suppressor, a scaredy cat. Anyway, I knew precious little about thorazine except I had seen it work wonders at a party in Austin where a fellow was having adverse reactions to one of those hallucinogenic chemicals. Also, I had had brief discussions about it with another fellow who worked at the state hospital there in Austin. I was not completely ignorant on the subject because I was aware of the term "thorazine shuffle," which as it turned out for me was a slightly painful, most embarrassing, contraction of various muscles which caused me to move through the streets of San Francisco looking like a poorly conceived, cheaply imitative, Hollywood Igor. My home in San Francisco was an underpass at Second and Folsom, or thereabouts, and where I ended up that day was at a movie theatre near that chocolate factory by the bay where I hid out in the dark watching the original run of Hollywood's version of Keroac, the one in which I think it was Nick Nolte playing Neal Cassady. It was a painful day the day I learned thorazine is not a recreational drug. And, not to talk down to you, or be overly obvious, but that earlier part about being more mature was a joke.
- jimlouis 8-19-2001 3:10 pm