That is… quite an indictment of acid, City of Belfast! And also not necessarily, having once (accidentally) seen some pretty twisted Dutch porn, something I want to ruminate over while waiting for the bus (Although I do like the comic book style you’ve gone with).
To be completely honest. I’ve never… [internal monologue ‘Jesus, what’s the right term for this again, dropped?.. lets go with dropped, don’t want to lose my street-cred here] dropped acid… so… I can’t really attest to the veracity of wanting to hurl my own poo post (or indeed during the) event.
I have however seen a trip go bad at an impressionable age. Which likely curbed my enthusiasm for psychedelics.
*cue wavey lines…*
It was… 199… eh… lets go with seven. Having arrived late to a social gathering at a friends house I wasn’t party to the peer pressure of having to partake in said chemicals. One of my friends was already having quite a bad time of it though.
He was deathly afraid of the kitchen, which, with the lights off, was the ‘bad place’ and he started getting exceptionally anxious anytime anyone of us ventured too close.
Being boys (or maybe just cunts), we hatched a plan to take advantage of his compromised condition. One of the others said he was going into the bad place… but that everything was going to be ‘okay’. Going into the kitchen… he screamed and then went suddenly quiet.
Friend on acid (as you can imagine) is FREAKING OUT at this point. After a minute my other friend comes walking out of the kitchen… ‘They got me… I’m one of them now’, he says in a deadpan voice…
Friend on acid screams, rips the crucifix fixture off the wall and grabs a pair of those big clunky garment scissors off the desk. He backs himself into a corner holding the crucifix in front of him and the scissors up high ready to stab anyone who got to close to him.
It was one of those liminal moments where we suddenly realized that we’d done a bad thing.
To cut a long story short. No one got stabbed. And I got an interesting story to tell. I think this may have been the same party where I got drunk, stumbled out into the garden and got stuck in a rose bush for several hours. (not my finest moment)
Sufficed to say… actually, I have no idea where I was going with this… maybe with poor marketing.
I would have gone with, ‘I was high on acid and took a razor blade to my face and now I’m blind in one eye and frighten small children’.
I mean statistically you probably won’t. But permanent self mutilation its less humorous than feces… and isn’t the point of drug ads to make you NOT try something.
Although I hear acid can really expand your perception of reality and your sense of meaning and life etc. My libertarian tendencies mean I think you should be able to ingest whatever you want. But there is that nagging feeling of ‘do no harm’… and I don’t think that is necessarily a statistical impossibility with psychedelics.
I suppose when in doubt I am inclined to default to personal responsibility. And that the onus is on you to take the necessarily precautions before hand to make sure you and the people around you are safe. Don’t drop acid with dickheads. Maybe that’s a good starting point.