"Calm down" he shouted at me as he spat out teeth and blood.
But I didn't care. I didn't care about the vomit that stuck to my
sweaty skin. I didn't care about the thick red lines of blood
that ran hot down my clammy hands. I didn't care about the bitter
taste of acid that had its self soaked into my tongue. I didn't
care that I could feel my flesh go black under his hard fists. I
didn't care that I could see his manic fear, and I didn't care
that the walls on every side of me were melting. The only thing I
cared about was the fact that it was over. Calm down, calm
down, calm down, was all I could breathe through shallow,
And as I pushed my broken blood drenched fingers deep into my
bloodshot eyes, in hope that I could stop bad thoughts spilling
from my fucked up mind, I realised that it was over. It was all
over. Down below me sat a boy on the now tainted linoleum of my
kitchen floor. His naked body trembled fiercely as life crawled
out of him. A man twice his age lay stiff beside him in a pool of
crimson slumped over face down, his fists bloody and bruised,
anger stricken across his demented expression. And as I rose
above them, floating away like the insignificants that I am, I
It was the summer of 1969 and the only thing I cared about was
getting high. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. You got that right.
But please, don't think of me as someone who lived their life
selfish and stupid. I was far from selfish, and I was far from
stupid. I was far from someone. What I was is something I need a
few more thousand words to tell you. I was something
unexplainable and something that was far from my reality and far
from any reality at all.
It's certainly clear to see that the 60's is a time of revolution
for all who live it no matter where you live it. I saw the world
around me change through out my little life and I was lucky
enough to have lived in this change as it happens in the United
States of America, New York City as a young and screwed up
teenager like the rest of my society. When I say screwed up, I
certainly don't mean to generalize. What I mean, is that I may
was not of good health physical or mental and that I did not, and
still do not belong anywhere. From the day I was born I suffered
a condition of severe depression and anxiety most probably
brought on by my mother's use of LSD or "acid" during her
pregnancy. Although I was never diagnosed with these disorders by
a medical man, I knew deep down inside that my mind was not right
and that these words, cold and empty though they are, were among
the only definitions to explain the feelings I possessed.
Sometimes I look back and wonder if I induced the bad feelings
that would pollute my thoughts with the way I lived my life, but
I guess I'll never really know. Then again, no one really knew
how I felt. Not even those I lived with. But then again, they
didn't know much.
My parents are and were incredibly strange people and I feel
inclined to tell you that I personally cannot wait for the day
that my mother drops dead like a fly and frees the earth of her
flawed existence, which come to think of it has about as much
meaning as a fly. She and my father met in school and married
without true love due to my conception and there being in the
1950's when physical love was not so open. The only thing that
did connect them was their mental love of drugs and the
hallucination created by them. I was birthed by a drug dealer,
and became reliant upon drugs myself later on in life. But I'll
get back to that later, first let me explain something about my
family to you.
I was an only child, and it is a wonder that I made it so far in
life and also a wonder why my life ended up like this. My parents
made their dirty money by selling semi-synthetic drugs like LSD
and other things that should have never graced God's unholy
earth. No wonder that God is taking his time at the moment and
has left me here to talk my empty thoughts. Come to think of it,
I shouldn't even be thinking at the moment… But back to my point,
my paretns were and are not good people. Although I guess it may
be unfair to lable them for their profession, after all the rest
of our society is just as messed up as they are with their morals
and their "freedom". The only freedom that I ever seeked was from
my mind and from my surroundings, but I never did and still don't
I never had many things. But I shouldn't complain. There are many
others in the world with lives less and more full than mine. I
would label myself simply as an average person, but that would
imply normality. One of my clearest memories that incidentally
fill my mind currently in a piercing way is of the day my father
first spoke to me about my conception. I was fifteen years old at
the time and the year was 1965. Controversy concering
contraseptives was apparent. One morning in autumn I woke late
Sunday to find my parents by the kitchen, seated casually at our
old and rusting aluminum table. I made my way by crooked steps to
the bathroom in hopes that there was some acid tabs or weed by
the basin like there normaly was. My father looked up from the
crumpled newspaper and spat a sarcastic scoff in my direction.
"Getting high already? Or just having a piss?" he smirked through
"Like you care" I replied softly, somewhat hurt.
"Leave him alone, it's not like the kid has anything else to do"
my mother laughed sligtly as she talked. Her fakely coloured
proxide hair stuck down to her ugly face with sweat and orange
foundation, her dark eyes wandered as she looked me up and down.
I felt dirty. Being in there presence and the filth of the room
made my life seem so pointless. I turned to walk away.
"Hey babe look at this" my father pointed with his index finger
to an article in the paper, a look of sarcasim and irony upon his
face "…following the Supreme Court's decision in Griswold v.
Connecticut drugs which halt human reproduction between
fertilization and implantation are now named contraceptives
instead of abortifacients and will be more widely available in
all 50 states…" my father stopped reading and looked up at my
mother who stood by his side, a cigarette in hand. "If only the
pill had been legal when we were screwing around, then we
wouldn't have had to get hitched because of this little buger" he
motioned towards me smiling a big grin, yellow teeth on display.
My mother lauged, "ah well, it's not like I didn't try to get rid
of him. Remember all those trips? They weren't just for a hell of
a good time, you know that. I was trying to kill the kid before
he could fuck us over the way he has"
They laughed through the mucus in the back of their nicotine
lungs as I left the room. Tears were already staining my pathetic
face as they corroded down my cheeks.
From that day on I always hated them for bringing me into this
world. I may have been young and should have been rebeling and
having a good time, but all I was and all I still am is lonely
and unwanted in a world of idiots. But I suppose I should try and
forget the past and explain to you why I am here telling you this
at all, admitadly you must be just a bit confused.
It all started four years late of that Sunday, in this summer of
1969 at the festivel that still at this moment rages in my mind
and probably in the world, Woodstock. Drugs are all but illegal
and love is "free". That's what they said. That's what my parents
believed. It is Friday afternoon of August 15th in a simple
little U.S town, called Bethel a few miles south from the heart
of New York. My mother and father were excited for Woodstock, the
whole town was. Drugs were fun, love was fun, music was fun and
nothing else mattered to them. Woodstock had all these things and
it was all free. Free like everyone wanted to be. I wasn't
excited about it though. Maybe it was my negative mind set
towards society or maybe it was the fact I didn't have anyone to
be excited with or anything to rebel against. I was alone, just
as I am now. But I was alone in a different way. I was alone in
the world, left behind from all its change. My parents had fled
the house early, undoubtably still stonned from the night before
and ready to share their halucanagenic high. They didn't notice
little me crouched in the bathroom corner crying big sobs, chest
heaving, as they went about getting ready for the day. But there
I was, crying away like an idiot, naked and alone on the cold
tile floor encrusted with its gunge and the smell of chemicals
from cleaning products and other things not so clean. I was still
coming down from a bad trip the LSD I took the other night had
induced and I had extreem nausea. I must have vomited at least
twice in the past ten minutes all down my chest. Just before my
mother had left the house she shouted something at me about not
using so much acid when I couldn't pay her for it. What a
heartless woman, why is she leaving so early in the
morning anyway? I remember thinking. Woodstock starts in the
Hours passed me by, and after I passed out for hours, and had
collected some of my normal mind back, I walked into the living
room still somewhat disoriented and in search of a room that
didn't smell quiet strong of drugs and human shit. Artificial
light spilled from the tiny room fresh into my blurry vision and
the sickly bright orange colour of the carpet hurt my stinging
eyes. My father sat forward on the piss stained lounge, his hands
busy cutting up some cones as he made joints with rusty scissors.
"Hey" he grunted at me in his normal hoarse voice after a few
His presence angered me, and I felt strange with tingles and
jolts all over my skin. Was I still stonned or was I just angry?
"Where's mum?" I asked through shallow breaths, eyes searching as
I supported myself against the chipping yellow paint of the brick
I rubbed the vomit into my skin.
"Out" he answered after a pause in his cutting.
I groaned, eyes clenched shut. Why couldn't he just go away? His
existence seemed to fill the room with horrible things. Was it
just the fact I was still coming down from my trip and left
disoriented with feelings of distress, or was this man who gave
me life actually giving off an energy of pain and evil? Pain and
evil that he had made me into.
"What's wrong?" he asked, "did you take more? I told you not to
for gods sake one of these days you'll OD you idiot"
The room was spinning. My pressed my feet deep into the worn down
carpet in hope to find some balance, but still everything around
me danced with motion.
"…What?" I rubbed my eyes, the walls were melting and so were his
"You look like hell and you're swearing your head off over there,
what the hell have you done? What are you doing?"
Was I swearing? What was he talking about? Why were my
surroundings so strange?
I still don't know. All I remember next was a feeling like no
other that I have ever had, regarldess of my state of mind. I
felt anger and agression, I felt depressed, I felt incredibly
disconnected and I felt alone. I felt as though I was melting
away with the ground beneath my clammy feet and now I feel as
though I have melted away to the ends of the earth where I stand
now drenched in his blood and in my own.
So I've been talking to you awhile for now, could you please tell
me something? Tell me what I have done and tell me where I am.
Tell me if I'm still stonned, tell me if I'm dead. Tell me all
the things that I don't in this moment know. Please tell me. Or
don't, because I know the truth. Even if my hands are soaked in
the blood of the man who gave me my sad little life that is now
inevitably over, I do know one thing. And in the end that's all
that matters, because I don't matter and neither does he.
What matters is the freedom. On this day, August 15th,
and at the time of 5.07 pm in the afternoon in the summer of
1969, Woodstock has started and our fists have become bloodied
and his face bruised. The freedom has started. The music and the
love, the drugs and the death. It's all screaming in my lonely
mind and so are the shouts of my fathers dying distress. So even
if I am still high or stonned or whatever it is that my
hallucination made me, and even if my fathers dead and so am I,
freedom is still alive. One last question for you though. Was it
the drugs that made the revolution so? Was it the love? Was it
the change? Or was it the fact that everyone was high on
stupidity and the idea that freedom is real?
Information about what
influenced my story.
- LSD was widely adopted by the hippy culture of the 1960's.
- LSD (lysergic acid diethylamide, street name: "acid") is one
of the major drugs making up the hallucinogen class of drugs.
Hallucinogens cause hallucinations-profound distortions in a
person's perception of reality.
- Under the influence of hallucinogens, people see images, hear
sounds, and feel sensations that seem real but do not exist. Some
hallucinogens also produce rapid, intense emotional swings. One
of the most potent mood-changing chemicals is LSD.
- Users refer to their experience with LSD as a "trip" and to
acute adverse reactions as a "bad trip." These experiences are
long; typically they begin to clear after about 12 hours.
- Some LSD users experience severe, terrifying thoughts and
feelings, fear of losing control, fear of insanity and death, and
despair while using LSD. Some fatal accidents have occurred
during states of LSD intoxication.
- Many LSD users experience flashbacks. A flashback occurs
suddenly, often without warning, and may occur within a few days
or more than a year after LSD use. Flashbacks usually occur in
people who use hallucinogens chronically or have an underlying
- LSD can lead to birth defects if used frequently.
- Cannabis or Marijuana (street name, "weed" or "cones") is the
most commonly abused illicit drug in the USA. It is a dry,
shredded green/brown mix of flowers, stems, seeds, and leaves of
the hemp plant Cannabis sativa, and is usually smoked as a
- It wasn't until the 1960's that marijuana became popular in
the United States.
- Some of the immediate effects of using cannabis are thing
such as feeling anxious, panicky, depressed or paranoid, a change
in breathing, loosing track of time, having a dry mouth and a
faster heart beat.
- Smoking marijuana during pregnancy can increase the chance of
miscarriage, low birth-weight, premature births, developmental
delays, and behavioral and learning problems.
Woodstock and the 1960's
The Woodstock Music and Art Fair in 1969 drew more than 450,000
people to a pasture in Sullivan County Bethel, New York City,
USA. The music began Friday afternoon at 5:07pm August 15th and
continued until mid-morning Monday August 18th. "Three Days of
Peace and Music" was the slogan of Woodstock. It was believed
that Woodstock was a countercultural event that brought together
open minds through freedom, peace, drugs and love. Woodstock,
like only a handful of historical events, has become part of the
Contraceptives in the 1950's and 1960's
In 1965, following the Supreme Court's decision in Griswold v.
Connecticut declaring a constitutional right to contraceptives,
the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG)
issued a controversial medical bulletin declaring that drugs
which halted human reproduction between fertilization and
implantation were contraceptives instead of abortifacients.
Throughout the 1960's birth control became more readily
available in the U.S and excepted in society as a method of
prevention rather than an abortion of life as it was seen in
...hope you enjoyed reading it. I didn't enjoy writing it haha.