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carmella chihuahua · people's princess lol Joined: 18 Dec 2005 Posts: 1158

K TIME
When taking ketamine, make sure you are willing for the world you thought you knew to vanish forever. The everyday trivialities of modern life will be coated in shimmering layers of mystique and intrigue and you may find yourself transfigured and amazed at say, the aesthetics of a tin opener or the feel of bubbled paint.
Normal time does not apply. Time spent on ketamine is measured in K hours. A K hour is 15 minutes of Normal Time. This is because after snorting that first choppy line, time slides and ebbs in a far slower more gracious manner. Your senses are constantly bombarded with all manner of surrealism and a whole sixty minutes is just too infinite to even contemplate. Thus-K Time-Handy Bite Size Chunks of Bedlam-Free With Every Trip!
So thus Normality is banished, waved a cheerful bye-bye to as the door is closed firmly and the chaos beckoned in. Normal Land shrinks far far away from here, the green door with the ragged posters that is the gateway to BedRoom World.
And James and Kez and I are on an adventure! We are rulers of our domain and stare out at its mountainous climes with pride. We have a bottomless bag of ketamine and everything and anything is possible.
We take hands and leap onto the bed to burrow under the fusty musty snugly duvet where we cuddle and giggle and gaze at kaleidoscopic patterns whooshing around within the warm confines of our nylon cave. Our cocoon. Womb. Playhouse. Home.
We seem to have been here for all eternity now: Past and Present has fluidly morphed as tangles of dreams, thoughts and events collide, fragmentize and spawn infinite possibilities.
And now I am disembodied and float above James and Kez waving down on their pin prick heads and now I am all encompassing, all knowing and all seeing.
But now there’s cracks and confusion and I hear myself shout at a bewildered James, my lover, my companion because he has done, said something bad and I hate him, milky tears steaming dirty tracks down my face and I can’t remember how or when or why this has happened but then we’re kissing and smiling and oh god, I love him so much. We decide to have six children called Sue and Bob and oh here’s Kez popping up from nowhere for he has thought of something so so funny that the mere attempt to relay it makes his face bulge puce and collapse under waves of hysterics. We surrender to his laughter, writhing, shrieking, prodding, poking and shakily snorting more lines from the tongue-smeared mirror.
‘Songs Of Praise’ flickers in mute serenity from the television but the heavy repetitive blasts from the stereo waft over so it looks as if the middle aged frowsy Normal People are singing that they want to get so high they can touch the sky and fly fly fly and that makes us laugh some more. Because everything is funny when you’re not adrift and alone in Normal World.
James and Kez and I though have a yearning to plunder Normal World because what we want what we really really want is a cup of tea and a fag! Oh they would be the bestest things EVER and we envisage them steaming, smoking, comforting and real in our filthy wobbly hands and discuss with wide eyed glee how they look and feel and taste in our parched dry mouths relentlessly chomping on air. We egg each other on, plot our mission in meticulous detail, James even tremulously opens the gateway a chink and we crowd around excitedly but the sliver of Normal World is harsh, sterile and oh so bright so we scarper away, delighted at our excursion to burrow and nestle again in the bed that is our home in the room that is our world.
We are safe here.
Kez now has a cunning plan so we scrabble eagerly through overflowing ashtrays and the bin, ripping open dried husks of long extinguished cigarettes until we cobble together a lumpen roll-up, testimony to our diligence and we smoke it with smug pride until it drops forgotten to the floor when James points out ‘Songs Of Praise’ where the pristine organist appears to be coaxing hardcore Drum and Bass from the soaring copper tubes.
We dance, a dance of the uninhibited, a dance of freedom and liberation until I knock water over the stereo and it spits, wheezes, smokes and dies.
But we don’t care! We’re invincible!
So we hoover up another vast clumsy line and as my nose throbs and sings, I see pinky bubbles froth out and float away for ever and ever.
Kez falls out of bed and crashes heavily to the floor, a nestling fallen from the tree, an inert and splendid mass, combats and hoody seeping liquidishly across the rolling sea of carpet.
James and I cheer, kick and tickle our thanks but there is no response so emboldened we felt-tip wobbly stars on his head and plant a heart shaped sticker on his nose then we become bears, James and I, in our cave and he smells sharply and sweetly of chemical bliss. The ceiling spirals endlessly upwards, a tunnel to wherever we choose. But we’re happy here, thank you. James and Kez and I.
Kez.
I peer upside down at him from the bed cliff edge and he looks a bit strange. Something not quite right…His eyeballs! They are missing from his slightly open eyes and I suspect goblins may have purloined then for some dark nefarious gobliney purpose and turn to tell James but he has discovered that if he flings his arms out they stretch and stick to the walls like Inspector Gadgets. We are most excited by this but I can do better for I have become a pony! My ponytail swishes silkily and I trit trot trit trot over meadow carpet, whinnying gently, full of sinewy grace.
But there’s something dark lurking in my mind, a wormy unease slithering insistently. Something bad. Something taunting, not good. On the floor.
James has seen it, him too and I see fear and doubt wavering about his face, darting insistent flies. I swat them away but they are buzzing louder and louder and now there’s a swarm of them and I realise it’s James shouting as he shakes Kez to and fro and pleads with him to stop messing about. He’s crying, gasping, eyes stark with thick cloying terror.
He’s bellowing words at me but I’m shaking my head to dislodge them because I don’t want them. Can’t deal with them, words that don’t exist in Bedroom Land. Words that are bad and evil and simply cannot be. No.
But Bedroom Land is tumbling, dissolving, and breaking.
Sweet voices from the television implore me to be joyous and triumphant and praise the lord as black noise rushes around me, clouding, stifling and it’s hot. So hot.
I look down at Kez and he’s not breathing. His skin is grey stone, lips cracked, dry, and blue, and caught in mid-gasp.
His hands claw at nothing and I realise how dirty his nails are and how yellow nicotine stains creep down his fingers. And he’s cold. So cold.
And now James and I are both shaking him, we’re mad at him but want him back. We want him back so much. We need him back. I’m sobbing and telling him how much I love him and this isn’t happening and he’s not allowed to do this to us because we’re his best mates and that we’ll never takes drugs again, we’ll be Normal. Good. But he can’t hear.
Because he’s dead.
And I wish for Normal Land. For things to be safe, mundane, boring, the way they were.
But it’s too late. Too late.
The walls have stopped wavering now. Harsh angular lines reign supreme. I’m not in Bedroom Land, not in Normal land and I reach for the phone telling myself this isn’t real. It can’t be
But it is.
And now the wail of the siren echoes plaintively outside and sends red shadows across the dark walls of Nowhere Land.
The ambulance men shake their heads in pitied disgust and a crisp white sheet is gingerly dropped over Kez’s felt-tipped darling face. I’m sorry Kez. So sorry.
And brisk police are smugly sympathetic and make us the tea we so wanted. Too late.
And still from the television come the sounds of the congregation singing songs about God.

wraeth · Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 2:27 am Post subject:

Y'know, that's how I've always imagined K trips to be like, complete with someone dying in the middle of one :? And seeing people in holes at parties, just so disconnected and vulnerable and completely useless has only reinforced that perception. Yeah, I know. So many people have said, oh, it's wonderful, it's fine, and little bumps are great and and and and and and and .... can't persuade me to do it though.

Cool tale carmella.

Ninjadmin · Posted: Sun Nov 05, 2006 6:32 am Post subject:

you're really good carmella, reminds me of when i took acid, you really got the unreality well

never taken k tho, or seen anyone die

sparky lightbourne · Posted: Tue Nov 07, 2006 3:50 pm Post subject:

K is not as good as acid or mdma

excellent description though, got it spot on

Soreenkid · Guest

K is ace - just don't do it in a social setting cos you only lie there spaced out for an hour.

I like it more than acid that is why I gave my acid away to someone on here^

Isambard · Posted: Thu Nov 16, 2006 1:20 pm Post subject:

Never taken it.

so thanks for a cool tale.