Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Why I Use Drugs

It's 3 pm on a Saturday afternoon- St. Patrick's Day actually, and I woke up about an hour ago. I've just railed two thick tracks of cocaine, roasted a deep bowl of marijuana, and cracked open my first, and likely only, beer of the day*. You may read that sentence and think that I have a severe substance abuse problem, and by most common standards, I do. But that's the problem with our hyper-labeling society; if you consider the facts, I believe my behavior is quite reasonable.
For one thing, both marijuana and cocaine are less harmful to the body than America's legal alternatives: alcohol and tobacco. In fact, if you employ a vaporizer for the inhalation of weed, there are no harmful effects on the body at all. As for cocaine, it's a simple amphetamine, negligibly different from the prescription meds we give our kids to focus, the diet pills we take to lose weight, or our morning coffee. But our government has used these particular drugs as tools to marginalize those who are bold enough to try them. If you are caught possessing or using these naturally occurring plants, it's like a black smear across the blue skies of your future. If word gets out about your secret life as a DRUGGIE you will be shun by society and passed over for that new promotion, in favor of one of your more straight-laced colleagues who doesn't "need drugs". Well, for any of you that 'don't need drugs', you'd be wise to consider quitting the booze- because it is by far the worst drug out there**. When I consider my own past and reflect upon the hundreds of alcohol-related incidents, I think of the thousands of dollars worth of property destruction, countless brushes with death, and an ocean of tears from women I've insulted- not to mention the irreparable damage I've done to my body. This website alone is a near monument to the poor-decision making that alcohol begets. But I am not against alcohol. Obviously, I love the stuff. I am merely lobbying against the unfair and unwarranted reputation of certain illicit drugs.

Earlier, I mentioned that the cocktail of drugs which I have ingested this afternoon could be considered reasonable, so let me defend that. For one thing, I will concede that cocaine is addictive. But that's not to say it can't be used responsibly. Personally, I have only purchased the drug a handful of times since I first tasted it, my sophomore year in college. Most of the times I've indulged in white devil it's been nothing more than a couple lines or a few key bumps per evening. As for this afternoon's nontraditional, solo ingestion, I have my reasons. I worked last night until after 3 AM, less than 12 hours ago. I am squatting in Quazar's abandoned apartment. The air conditioning is broken, and the place is littered with trash and fractured memories from the days when I first began my new life out here. The balmy, dingy air of the apartment wrought a fitful sleep for the Eggman, and as I sit here now, surrounded by refuse and covered in the residue from my own masturbation, I have to leave for work in about 30 minutes. I am over-tired, I am grumpy, and I am in no mood to deal with the boozy revelers who have likely already taken over Mill Avenue. Should I get in my car and head to Starbucks, squandering the few minutes of personal time allotted to me today, so that I might spend $6.50 on sugar-laden caffeine-delivery agent? Or should I snort the coke, which is free***, more effective, more fun, and sitting right in front of me on the table? To me, the answer is obvious.
I don't feel I have to explain my early afternoon beer, since as I write this, millions of Americans are (legally) getting wasted to celebrate a holiday which holds absolutely no meaning. So I've ingested a small bit of amphetamine to jumpstart my day, and enjoyed some alcohol to soothe my weary body. But what about the marijuana?
For me, marijuana is a daily vitamin, my tonic for the mind. It mellows my anxiety and allows my wind to wander, to think about things from a different perspective. Consider the following.
Sometimes, when I wake up, especially if I wake tired or hungry, I am in a poor mood. I check my blog email and find no new comments. I check the user stats and see that it stagnates around 100 per day, as it has for months now. I think of the life that I lead, and the hours I spend providing this content. Then I surf the web and check out the other more popular blogs. I see the painfully mundane things they write about, and the dozens upon dozens of comments from similarly vapid idiots, echoing the same hackneyed sentiment as the dogshit post they are responding to. I begin to lose hope. I ask myself what's the point. I think about how incredibly stupid the general public appears, and I write myself off as too extreme, too highbrow for the common idiot. Dark thoughts enter my mind like the sudden onset of a summer shower. I don't feel like eating. I don't feel like writing. I browse the internet and marvel at the apparent success of others. I lay around and despair about the hopelessness of the human condition. I watch as the masses conduct their daily business, blissfully ignorant, while we continue to hurtle toward the annihilation of our species and our planet at a breakneck speed.

People wonder why Americans today suffer such a greater amount of psychological disorders than ever before. To me the answer is obvious. It's this ridiculous electronic world we've created for ourselves. We have so many choices that we really have no choice at all. Everything in our society revolves around money and its accompanying superficialities. I have to toil day and night in search of money and fame. I must have a smoothly shaved face and perfectly carved abdominal muscles. I have to eat dinner in fancy restaurants and ensnare the best looking wife. I'm all but forced to compare myself to the ridiculous icons of success whom we worship in this country, simply because everybody else does. Even those who are decidedly unsuccessful funnel all their money into copying the rich and famous, as they try to substitute the appearance of being rich in lieu of saving up to become actually rich. The whole system is designed to show you how much worse your life is than everyone else's, and it all becomes a sick parade of lies. In these moments, things are incredibly bleak. I feel like I'm dead last in a race I never intended to compete in. The will to continue becomes weak in me, and the only thing that keeps my earthly body clinging to this planet is the thought that my suicide would cause undue pain for my family and a handful of loved ones.
But one breath of that sweet, sweet cheeba and I can finally see the world again. Not the world in which you live, that of glass and skyscrapers, diet soda cans and gasoline. But the real world, our home, the earth. I am reminded me of the simple pleasures in life, like the sun shining on my skin. I remember that there are other choices, other paths I can take. If it ever becomes too much, if the grind and society's expectations ever reach a breaking point for me, I can abandon my place here and move to some wilderness untarnished by the hand of man. I can forgo the daily trauma of this digital world and focus on the basic daily goal of acquiring food for sustenance. A lungful of pot smoke helps me to recall everything about life that makes it worth living. Without having to obsess over how to acquire money, my mind is able to daydream, and my imagination runs wild. Every idea becomes worthy of cogitation; movies and art can be seen in a different light; I can listen to music instead of just hearing it.

I question everything, even established beliefs, which allows me to have boundless ideas. This is arguably the most important aspect of the marijuana high. I don't smoke weed because it brings me to a fantasy world, but because it removes me from one. I assure you, the reality you inhabit is far less real than the truths I acknowledge on a daily basis. Those of you who think of nothing but the chase for the almighty dollar lose sense of the big picture, and that can be dangerous. As a whole, we are easy to mislead. If we accept whatever society tells us without thinking for ourselves, we invite exploitation. Those in search of evidence need only look as far as any of the world's major religions to see that humans can be convinced of literally anything. Or just take a look at what Hitler was able to do to Germany.

But I'm not so naive as to claim pot can save the world. Marijuana affects different people differently, but for me, it's a much needed respite from the drudgery of our civilization. When I smoke, my mind is free from the shackles of our intensely demanding society, if only for a short while.

Personally, I have chosen a difficult journey. I have abandoned the beaten path to prosperity and success, eschewing the 'rat race', in favor of following my dream. For now, my dream is simply to earn enough money from writing that I can sustain my own existence. But when I think about my life generally, I have many dreams I hope to accomplish. I have, deep in my heart, a very child-like and hopeful idealism. But that small bright center is surrounded by a tough black layer of thorny sinew, developed from years of being jaded by this shame-based society of deception and lies. By allowing me to smile or laugh at life's simple pleasures, this magical plant somehow unlocks that hidden part of me, the part of me that is still truly and naturally human.

That is, in essence, why I use drugs. For all the same reasons that you law-abiding pussies use alcohol and cigarettes, you workout fiends use supplements, and you fat slobs eat cake: because they make me feel good, and they help me get through life.

*Editor's Note: I ended up having 2 beers before work. The albino had numbed my throat and the ice cold beer went down so pleasantly that I treated myself to a second. I began this post at the time specified in the beginning, but finished it at a later time.
**I'm talking about the drugs that civilized people use, so I'm not including crystal meth, heroin, crank, or crack.
***Qz found this 1/4 full bag while cleaning out his place and obviously couldn't take it back with him on the plane.


Anonymous said...

Brilliant. Quite brilliant. You'll like this - a similar essay by none other than Carl Sagan.

Anonymous said...

How much coke do you need to use to make your nose cartiledge dissapear? Other than that I see no problem with it.

noonim said...

your best work yet...this post not only makes me feel better about my abusive drug use but also my life in general.

Anonymous said...

Great post. Technically, cocaine is not an amphetamine. Crank and meth are amphetamines. Cocaine is a stimulant alkaloid, and (as you know) the effect is much nicer than amphetamines.

Pimple Back Smith said...

you shouldn't do drugs u burnt out loser. grow up and deal with reality like a real caveman. you stupid jerk

Move to the east where the real world resides

A Faggot said...

I bet Noomin has super aids

Jones said...

i use this

buck said...

After working as a counselor in an inpatient detox unit at 21, I realized two things: you can only die from detoxing from booze and societies judgments are what drive most people.

I try to ask myself when making decisions, "Would I do this if I had never seen or heard anyone else doing it?" Reason why I decided not to get my nose peirced the other day. I would have never thought to peirce my nose if I had never seen anyone else do it.

I kissed a married woman in front of her husband at the bar the other day because I wanted to, deciding to even though I knew what the repercussions might be. She kissed me back and he tried to fight me. Being so stoned and drunk I fell on the floor laughing which enraged him more.

Keep faith in the human condition

JJ said...

great post eggman, saw 300 totally stoned last night, it was incredible

Anonymous said...

Dude. As you know I need to blaze daily to feel regular like you. I also have some of my clearest thoughts and conversations with other stoned people. But as I come home every day craving a blunt to cool off my agitation from having to actually go to work I remember the days when I was at peace without being blazed. I continue to blaze as I know there is no other way , but don't you wish you could get back to that frame of mind?

Anonymous said...

Dude. As you know I need to blaze daily to feel regular like you. I also have some of my clearest thoughts and conversations with other stoned people. But as I come home every day craving a blunt to cool off my agitation from having to actually go to work I remember the days when I was at peace without being blazed. I continue to blaze as I know there is no other way , but don't you wish you could get back to that frame of mind?

Anonymous said...

You're so full of shit I can smell it through my screen. You're obviously an exceedingly selfish person, and you need gimmicks like a beard and an afro to get other peoples' attention. Otherwise you'd just be another loser at a sausage party.

I know lots of guys like you, thinking that they have the world all figured out, but too lazy to do anything about it. I do way more drugs than you, but I don't think I'm a hero because of it. Nor am I conceited enough to label other peoples blogs and lives as shite. First time to your blog, and the last.

RAYNOK the EGGMAN said...

This is in regards to the most recent anonymous fellow who posted. You call me selfish, but how you've determined this based upon reading one post about drugs, I cannot figure out. If anything, I believe I'm quite generous, if only for the time I've spent creating the content for this website without ever having seen a dime from it. Though you may not like it, many working folks do, and they use this free service as a break from their day.

As for my beard and afro being gimmicks, you couldn't be more wrong. I don't go to sausage parties because I have a girlfriend, and I met this girlfriend while I had a socially acceptable hair and beard arrangement. I probably looked alot like you, except less fat and pimply. I keep this appearance IN SPITE OF society, not to court it. I am poor, and being poor and looking like a weirdo are not the fast track to success in this country. My hair and my beard are my badge of honor that I have been true to myself; all I have done to get this appearance is NOT go to the barber. But you'd know all this if you took the time to read more than one post.
My appearance attracts alot of attention in my day to day life, most of it positive, so I have utilized my image to drive traffic to my site. That's called marketing, asshole.
If you don't think you're a hero for your epic drug use, then why bother to let me know about it, you hypocrite?
How could you mistake me for posturing as hero when I went out of my way to accurately portray the realistic and unglamorous world of my drug use?
Furthermore, I will continue to call other people's lives and blogs whatever I feel like. The whole point of a blog is to express one's opinion, and it's my opinion that most of the blogs I've seen are crap. If you have a blog, I'm quite sure it's dogshit.
Of course I'll never know because you were too cowardly to leave a name.