I like to puke in my own damn toilet and relish in my own damn stink in my own damn home. But last night I did the puking in a friend’s toilet.
The combination of booze out the ass and pot always sends me to queer street. I should have known better, but I seem to have to learn this lesson every few months. Queer street is not the worst place to be. When I’m at home reeling from nausea and vomiting, I kind of like it. Turning your head becomes an epic struggle. And listening to sweet sounds becomes an otherworldly experience.
But at a friends house? Mother fucker, it sucks. I just leaned back on my friend’s bed and pretended to post up and look chill. But was completely out of balance and about to spew up my guts. And when it became to much to bear and I stumbled to the toilet, my high compatriots were confused.
Does this not happen to anyone else who combines the two drugs?
^^ An example of the sweet soothing sounds that can make the spins a religious experience.