Monday, December 19, 2011

Lucifer in Los Angeles - Chapter One - Pain

The impact breaks both of my wings.

It is excruciating.

All the beautiful and weightless moments I have witnessed flying, soaring, gliding, and racing flash before my eyes and spiral away to a pinpoint - then disappear. Curved arcs of horizons, atmospheres, planets, universes... galaxies fade away. I am no longer a sky creature. I am landlocked, trapped in this perspective. Stuck at this limited point. I am on my back, staring at the sky... with longing and fear.

That isn’t excruciating. I have never felt physical pain until now. White hot, gut-wrenching, stabbing, relentless bolts of unhappiness. It is impossible to integrate, a separate thing from me that I renounce - which is futile. It clouds every bit of my focus such that I cannot assess what kind of being I now am, or exactly where I find myself. I do not know what I can and cannot do. All I know is I must find some escape. My scapulae are searing. I reach back to feel my tertials and coracoid are shattered. I cannot move my wings at all other than when shrugging my shoulders without my inner wing structure. My hand comes back full of blood-soaked feathers. I have never lost a feather.

I roll onto my side and it’s clear from the pain that I have broken my outer wing bones as well. My arm scrapes against concrete and I jerk away, wrenching my right wing into my body at an angle it couldn’t move were my bones intact. The pain makes me retch and I vomit blood, stomach acid, and bile. I have never vomited. It is agony. I have no muscle tone, my abdomen is tortured with convulsions, my respiratory system burns and my nose runs and I have the hiccoughs. I lie there, panting, dry heaving, and weeping for what seems like hours. My head throbs, aches and I am nauseous and sensitive to light and sound. The pain begins in my wings and travels through my shoulders around the crown of my head ending at my forehead. I no longer have any innate sense of or control over time. The frustration defeats me - but it is not excruciating.

Upon impact and the feeling of pain I know that I am on Earth. I hear the white noise of freeway traffic. I sit up finally and look down at my form and it is human, not humanoid. I am a woman, a flabby, limp, muscle-less human in an adult body with blood and puke soaked useless, spasming, shedding wings, sitting in my own filth in the Los Angeles River. My halo is gone. This is not where I am supposed to be. This is not who I am. That is the excruciating part.

Only God could know I would prefer Hell to Los Angeles.

What a sick fucking joke.

The Trouble With Morality

The Trouble with Morality is that is full of half-truths, absolutism, and animal behaviors.

I reject the idea that some drugs are good, others evil. I stand by and will test my theories to their limits. No drug brings out people’s loathing quite as much as Mama Coca. Blood on every crystal. Dead Mexicans. Imprisoned South American farmers. Poisoned lands. As if she cares.

The only drug I’ve ever found dangerously addictive is cannabis. Every other rolls off my back - allowing me to indulge in it as I please without concern and with realistic countermeasures towards my health. Don’t get me wrong - I am aware of the destructive powers of drugs. I know two people dead and two whose lives have been destroyed because of cocaine. I can’t count the number of people I know dead and whose lives have been destroyed by sugar. Diabetes and obesity aren’t demonized the way that cocaine addiction is.

It started with a book - Cocaine: An Unauthorized Biography. Never had I realized how much influence this once alkaloid had had on recent history, politics, and world relations. Stunning.

I know many people that occasionally use cocaine. All of them express guilt around it. I have used it on occasion, with years passing in between. I never feel guilty, but 85% of the time that it’s not worth it. It goes like this “Hey that would be fun if it were pure, maybe. Wow now I feel like shit. That wasn’t worth it. Let me do it again.”

Levamisole. Since 2002 an increasing amount of the cocaine imported into the US (and other places, but who cares about them) is adulterated with the drug Levamisole. Used in veterinary applications it kills worms and parasites. Used in humans it treats some cancers, and has some nasty effects including agranulocytosis wherein some of your white blood cells up and disappear... leaving you with things like skin rot. Skin rot.

It’s much more likely that your cocaine is cut with Levamisole than not. No matter how pure it looks (Levamisole’s masquerading as glittering, pure cocaine is what got it invited into up to 90% of the cocaine imported into the United States). It’s very chemically similar to cocaine, making it difficult to separate.

Still, the information I found claimed a difference in solubility between the two. I bought some cocaine, exposing me to white collar sadness but no narcoterrorists. I snorted it and had an allergic reaction. I purified best I could, and still reacted. I don’t know whether it’s cocaine, Levamisole, or adulterant X that is causing the reaction - but as this was not my first exposure to cocaine I don’t suspect it.

So I cooked it into crack. And smoked it. And I did not have an allergic reaction. I watched porn for 4 hours. It was fun, but not very “me”.

Then I ground the crack up with some weed and put it in the vaporizer. I’m calling it Trouble. It’s like being a rubber band: stretched in both directions, nestled into a tenuous and short-lived equilibrium. It was over for good once the crack ran out.

Cocaine is dangerous, dirty, and impure because of the War on Drugs, not because of Mama Coca. This I proved while chewing coca for a week straight at Burning Man.

Gentle medicine. Powerful plant friend. Deeply tempting. Coca left me more bereft than cocaine or crack. Likely the levels of cocaine in my system were more from chewing the leaf than they would be from crack and cocaine use. The high is all about the speed at which is passes the blood-brain barrier. As is the physical damage.

Coca makes me feel slightly superhuman. Comfortable. Relaxed. Alert. The first time I chewed it I had a hangover, which disappeared on my 2nd cud. The leaves are full of minerals and B vitamins. And cocaine. The taste of coca and limestone permeates the experience until the cheeks and taste buds are too numb to react. Hunger and thirst disappear - but I actually fell asleep for a nap with a plug of coca in my cheek.

Sensation heightening has so many uses - appreciating the arts, hiking, conversing, yoga, and sex are among my favorites. I lost interest in cocaine and crack entirely; coca rendered any of it’s parts useless to me - but the whole utterly compelling.

Months of intermittent depression following my barter with coca. I made a promise to Lucifer I would not buy coca leaves until next Burning Man and so far have kept it. No coca products have entered my system since the summer of cocaine, crack, coca.... and Levamisole.

..until a friend of mine visits Peru... be continued...