The Breaking

 Here's the index, so you can see the reading you've missed :-P. Today is Friday, September 1 at not yet 1am. Ha! 

I have a story. It's about the time I broke my best friend. It wasn't on purpose, and I felt really bad. He eventually got checked into a mental hospital, I think it was by his parents, but he never was the same. 

Pat. Man I loved Pat. He truly was a great guy. I don't know where he is now, but it would be great to get back in touch with him. I still have a movie he made, or that he acted in. It is named "Methamphetamine, The Movie." Maybe we can watch it one day.

But, back in the first year of college at WSU when all of us were coming together, Pat was part of the first clan I came into contact with. The second was Alex, Khazak, and those kids. Everybody seems to coagulate and forms bonds from there. But It was me and D-Bone and Wick kinda in our group or rather they were kinda part of my clan, Pete came along later and we stayed roommates for the rest of college mostly. Or at least during the time when we had roommates, we eventually went out on our own, but I digress, now's not the time for that conversation, it'll come later. Pat and those guys were one year ahead of Pete and I. For that matter, so were most of the clan, but we still all hung together. They seemed to have one of the bigger off campus keggers. That made them instantly interesting. The weekend before school started, the campus commons apartment complex erupted in keggers. It's funny because the cops would stand on the sidewalks and people were so packed into the private property of the complex that occasionally someone would get drunk enough to stumble over onto the sidewalks and the cops would yank them into custody for a Minor in Possession ticket. Otherwise you were safe as long as you stayed away from the sidewalk.

Although I don't recall exactly how the meeting came about, one of my first memories of the whole clan out there was that first Spring Break my freshman year. I think I was already into what was going to be basically one of my two girlfriends in college. The first one went to UW and didn't last long, her name was Chris and she introduced me to what a hippy was and concepts like not using hairspray and foreign things like that. Vegans, to name another. I think the Moscow chicks were next, and over the Christmas break and I met Jodi about the same time as the Spring Break. Jodi and I lasted about a year, with that summer being totally epic. I got to live with her in the all girl's dorm, which in and of itself was quite epic, if  I do say so. And I do. 

But before that summer and that stuff, was the first spring break. They, Pat and his clan, T-bone, Rainey, i think, and a couple others let me watch their apartment over the break. You couldn't stay in the dorms and I had no where to go. I was a vagabond from way back. I remember it being pretty jarring because I had no idea on how to feed myself. I figured out the dorms, I mean that was one big cafeteria, easy enough to figure  out. But real life, that was different. Especially without money. I couldn't afford much. That pretty much forced me to a life of top ramen and macaroni and cheese. I really don't recall eating anything else. I  know a long time food was a nuisance. I spent a whole semester getting lab work done o figure out what my stomach problem was. It always hurt. Eventually I was cleared medically and I started going to a medical psychologist. That was eye opening. She had me do a log of what I was eating and when I hurt. Back then, most days I would eat a Top Ramen for dinner some nights and for lunch/breakfast a small little personal baked bread loaf the size of a roll. After a while of doing this, i recall the medical shrink looking at me with like eyes of amazement when she said "Kris, those are hunger pains, you've got to eat more."

Anyway it was Pat that let me sleep in his bed. The dirty clothes were twice as high as the bed itself and stacked on it. I just cleared a spot and slept. Back then sleeping wasn't an issue. Everything was still repressed. But those days everyone would go back during the breaks or over the weekend and bring back pot and thats how we got stoned. That would run out and pot was worth more than gold, literally. You could make $500 an ounce on pot and gold was around $200. D-bone introduced me to my first hook up that was local. He couldn't really keep it together enough to do anything with it. Plus, it was home grown shake. BUt it was all anyone could get so i would get ten bags of that or so, redistribute the shake and make a couple for free. Totally small time. A friend of a friend, could get green bud though. It wasn't hard to jump that fence and get his number. That was how I met Rich. He had a totally hot lady.  Her family was nuts though. She was raising her two little sisters cuz her mom had died in a house fire somehow set off by crack, running down the street naked as she died. One of the sisters was a prostitute. That was kind of creepy. See, I lived with them for a brief bit after my house fire, so I got to know the whole life story. The only brother in the clan was gay. The family eventually made a white trash appearance on Phil Donahue or Jerry Springer, i forget which, but I don't think it was Springer. But yea, they were THAT kind of family. I had a couple of memorable times with her. I was taking her to the grocery store (Rich's lady) the night of my fire, and she gives me my first road head. The only other time was with my first Domme, and that was when she was driving, yea, that one is hard to beat.

But yea, Pat. After that Spring Break, we became pretty close. We had a few of the same science classes and were similarly bored and not scoring as high of marks as we could. So naturally, we started studying together. I think it was calculus where we discovered state dependent learning.

State dependent learning. We didn't know what it was called, but, see, we liked getting stoned. Who doesn't, right? And we were lazy, and didn't like to study but we were smart. I had found that studying took lots of effort and time, but cramming took little time and you got the same grades, and since grades were ultimately what mattered, Pat and I started cramming together, usually after getting stoned, which didn't work well until we stumbled upon state dependent learning. I mean, okay we had been taught that drugs were bad, so naturally in an effort to conform, we would not get stoned before important things like tests, but to our detriment, that was leading to bad grades, mostly because we were always otherwise stoned. Well put one and three together and get six. That's right, if we got really stoned before we crammed for the test and additionally before any homework or studying that we happened to stumble into when the smoke had cleared didn't to see in front of us, we would score great grades as long as we repeated the ritual of getting really baked right before the test. A total trifecta: our eternal high was maintained, our grades were high enough so that no parental units, or anyone else for that matter, gave us any flack, plus we still got to hang out a lot. Totally awesome. And somewhere along the way, I found an acid connection.

My acid connection was to be not my ultimate demise in college, because that was actually a chick, or a blowjob or maybe drinking depending upon how you wanted to look at it. Yea, I made the newspaper with that one, but thats another story for another time.

See, I really liked acid. I had a connection in high school that got me quite some notoriety and kept me really well in the cash flow and high as fuck. Taught me about tolerance, it did. I found out that you can't take acid days on end, its not like other things where you have to simply double the amount you consumed to get just as high, it was the fibonacci sequence squared. That's right. 1,4,9,25 and so on. Even with my supply costing me nothing after profits, 25 was just stupid.  but 9 seemed reasonable. And costing me nothing i think was an understatement. It was costing a dollar a hit and selling at $5 each, 3 for ten if i recall correctly. And I'm pretty sure I recall correctly. And the numbers were better when i found it in college. See I found a guy who would sell it in unperforated sheets. The instructions were to cut it in ten rows of a quarter inch a piece to make for 10 rows of ten in each sheet. Well but, math. See looking down at your finger, or a piece of paper for that matter a quarter inch was virtually for in size fro 3/16,s o what's the harm right? I was getting it at something ridiculous, like 88¢ a hit, $88 a sheet, you had to buy ten sheets but when they're screaming out of you hands, $880 is nothing. But now mind you each $88 was getting me 144 hits, which at 3 for ten was $480 or just shy of five grand for the book of ten sheets. I could wipe my ass with LSD and still make money. Anyway, Pat…

So Pat and I started dropping acid together a lot. Well, and inhaling nitrous. See my pot connection kicked me down a tank, and I found that medical grade was 99% pure but in Washington, racing grade was only 97% pure and no adulterants. Another win. You could take $30 and get, i dunno, over a grand easily. (Oh gentle reader, but that's for another story. Now chronologically in a similar timeline to this one but there's only so much ink on one page. Especially if I want to keep it interesting) So at a time when people were down to pay $30 for ten little whippits, I was selling them 10¢ balloons for $5 and they felt like they were the ones getting the great deal. Math and ingenuity, you win again.

THe Conclusion is next.