Gothic as You Want to Be--Introducing Ecstasy My first time on ecstasy was a night wreathed in smoke. Clove cigarettes, thin black Sampoernas and strawberry biddies that crackled loudly and dripped ash holes through everyone’s clothes. Cedar chips and sage smudgesticks burned in corners. Thick, cheaply colored candles burned from every available surface; everyone had wax clots in their hair. The pills themselves were gritty lumps of powder, each about the size of a shriveled frozen pea. This was pure bathtub shit, basic. No pretty colors, or designs, no fairy dust, no names. The pills looked like someone had taken a pinch of wet powder between their thumb and forefinger, squeezed it into a pellet and let it dry. They were the beige color of children’s tylenol fleckled with an inorganic shade of brown. Conrad claimed the brown bits were heroin. Being as I’d never been high before I halved my $20 lump of clay with the owner of the smoky room. Like most seventeen year olds I was looking for salvation.
I was looking for validation, a little excitement, really though I just wanted to get fucked-UP. Smoked pot all through high-school, did not get stoned once. Didn’t get buzzed.
“If this doesn’t get you high then nothing will,” Conrad promised and flicked his Newport out the window. Newports were Conrad’s idea of pretension. He went schizophrenic later on.  ¶ 8:33 PM 0 comments