Some solemnly categorize me as ‘conservative’ or ‘antisocial.’ Fuck, if one is going to insult at least let the abuse be so accurate as to be meaningful; have the courtesy to understand, or at the very least thoughtfully recognize, my flaws and ugliness. “Antisocial” is a cheap label, hollow, lost in its vagueness.
In 2008 the drugs had different expressions. MDMA was new to me but I had known ecstasy before as it made me cry… Previous experiences on ‘e’ anyway led to blathering sorrows as I walked down Whyte avenue bawling, longing for an ex-lover, then, more newly made ruthless in a strange and daring role-reversal. Previously yes, incoherent on ‘e’, 2002 maybe, four in the morning after the bad rave and worn music, full of sweaty, suburban boys in white, sleeveless undershirts and dark, baggy, blue jeans, having dance-offs with the blue light strobes and the grinding polyrhythms manifesting in their jaws; me too, all but the white shirt, yes our jaw-gnawing required hard walking, as we headed outside the sunlight shone on an abandoned parking lot, we strolled up the bleak, cubic spiral to the top floor and amongst the debris a ray directed me to a cement conglomerate---picking up the chunk, God asked me to throw it. Far away there was a target / lady, three stories down and impossible to hit, a different block, impossible! ---She was probably on her way to Church since it was Sunday. The ray dared me to get as close to her as I could with the rock. Asshole, unforgivable asshole threw the rock and really hit her at an absurd distance. Not a huge rock or a hard hit but the age and the purity and the atrocity still demanded insatiable amounts of guilt to be digested at a later hour and still now, at this, a much later year. After the turmoil, frenetic remorse and truly satanic jazz which my brother mercilessly tried to sooth me with, I headed south. Yes, embarking on the trendy avenue without sleep, no longer high, but concerned, especially about the nostalgic and the tragic. I walked past frightened girls, red-faced, with tears streaming hot and joining under my chin. Unhappy, I’d say. My brother of the acid-jazz eventually came to my rescue, this time around unable to accost me with Charles Mingus’ "z-zeete- beee-boooop-wip ah-doo-ip-bop-weeeg-beee" period.
But more recently, in this newest experience, I had sworn off even attempting psychedelics and its friends such as ‘e’ and ‘MDMA’ from the 24th of August onward, until recanting only moments before ingestion on the 30th, due in part to a week of high winds, a day of lunging up on airborne alkaline and progressively swilling an “all you got, it’s in here” drink, treacherously poured from a sticky, Culligan water jug, my mind was irreparably made up. For the MDMA I dipped my grimy finger in the bag which resembled a miniaturized pack of big-league chew, that sort of foil-thing going on, and like another certain candy analogy that momentarily eludes me, I dipped my wet finger into the powder and licked the first attempt ---later, sans-candy analogy, I snorted the second---just in case the first method of ingestion was wrong, I mean, I know one was incorrect but I still couldn’t tell you which. The white MDMA powder felt like dried vinegar and trickled down my nasal cavities into my throat tasting both sour and bitter. We kept drinking. Later after a genuine human pyramid and cat-calls to the Burning Man himself, my dearest human-cannon ball and current lover, asked a well-timed and well-armed stranger for some ecstasy. The request was surprisingly yet expectantly fulfilled amid the floral bursts of fiery pulses. We arrived at Nexus, following the crooked and much loved path set by my brother. I waited in line cleaning the dust and syrup out of my cup in want of a maintaining drink. Aly asked, “How are you feeling?” and at that precise moment I turned to her and felt the tip of my nose buzzing. Instantly, I felt fear and walked a few steps slo-motion in direction of the barer desert, Aly cut-in front of me and with cat’s eye glasses she handled me, persuading me to handle my anxious glow. Luckily, I conceded but understood that such heavy feelings could only be properly dealt with with my back firmly on the ground. As the place filled up and my oasis became ‘entry-way’ many innocent soles pounded my body, first stepping hard then almost tumbling with polite correction. I loved it, each impact sent waves of giddiness and delight down my spine and into my hips. I danced, planted on the ground as Bassnectar’s bass filtered through the bodies and rolled over my swaying, horizontally pleased body. Concerned road-warriors held me up from time to time, nourishing me with ripe fruit and camel-packs; reassuring me that the polyethylene-teet rehydrates. The music was perpetually and rhythmically stunning. Eventually the tired, familiar crew came to rest on my high-stepping hips and gut; multiplicitously warming me up.
---
video at NEXUS on the night of the Burn --so you might hear me getting stepped on, anyway,I don't know who filmed this---I'm glad they posted it though, I esp. like(d) the music in the last third of the vid, if anyone cares (Echo?)
a body expectant
possible thoughts fill my chest with unease,
high in the guts below my understanding
this warms and then sinks,
tickle and a closing off, it is, it is ‘palpable anticipation’
in joy the smile, grief the wail, mind
my always true imagination.
only the expectancy of despair has this central corporeal shift. Feel it.
recognized.
I had a bone from a skull my brother snapped up from the Parisian catacombs. He stole it in good faith. I had it in a little silver container from India, that and a bit of cotton on which the fragment of skull sat. I’m not sure what part of the head the bone came from, but it was shaped a little bit like Bulgaria or somewhere like that. The skull was sort of a light brown meets clay meets tinge of orange and purple, depending on what mood I was in, oh, and depending on what angle and light source I viewed it with/under/in. I should have taken a picture of it. It was about 1 and a half inches long, which is American, and 3.81 cm using the current metric unit of measurement--- most Canadians my age brag about metric measurements yet rarely use it, or even know how to. The skull piece was pretty thin, relative to what I conceive of contrasting ‘not-thinednesses’, so to speak.
EDMONTON - A man from east central Alberta is gravely ill with rabies after failing to seek treatment after a bat bit him last summer.
The man was sleeping in his rural home last August when a bat entered the house and bit him on the shoulder. The man, whom health officials have not identified, apparently realized he had been bitten but did not immediately seek medical help.
In January, he experienced pain in his shoulder where the bite occurred. He has since developed symptoms of rabies, including paralysis, difficulty swallowing and convulsions. He is in serious condition in hospital, but there is little doctors can do for him now.
"There's no specific treatment once the neurological symptoms occur," said Dr. Karen Grimsrud, deputy provincial health officer.
"We want to emphasize that if someone is exposed to a wild animal, they should seek medical treatment," she said. "That's the important message from this unfortunate case."
The treatment for people bitten by a potentially rabid animal consists of a series of shots given over a month. The injections, called post-exposure prophylaxis, are "close to 100percent effective if they are given close to the time of the bite," Grimsrud said.
The last time an Albertan died of rabies was in 1985 when a bat bit a 25-year-old Calgary man while he was working near Smith, 220 kilometres north of Edmonton. He died in Vancouver about five months after being infected.
In 2005, almost 130 people across Alberta received the post-exposure treatment. Most of those people had been bitten by dogs or cats that could not be located and observed for rabies symptoms, said Grimsrud.
While there is no known case of rabies being transmitted between humans, health officials are investigating whether anyone had direct contact with the bodily fluids or saliva of the man after he was infected with the disease. The general public is not at risk, Grimsrud said.
