14 August 2001 ~ morning, PST
Ian's kitchen
Seattle
"Hey Ian? I don't know if I did anything really stupid last night, but I guess I really freaked out..."
"You did?"
"Yeah... Something about Quentin Tarantino arguing with me. And the centipede from the Prodigy video. And... I thought you and Bronwyn were going to kill me. Was there a Prodigy video on TV last night?"
"Whoa... I guess you did freak out a little... If it makes you feel any better, Bronwyn and I were not trying to kill you."
"Yeah... I guess I kind of know that now."
"And um... Prodigy? Oh, I put the 'Charlie's Angels' video in... There's a Prodigy song on the soundtrack..."
"Oh. I guess that would account for the people kicking each other?"
"Yeah, maybe."
He's looking at me like I'm kind of dumb, like I'm making all of this up. I'm having a really hard time believing I completely tripped out and nobody noticed. I'm also having a really tough time believing that Ian and Bronwyn were just mildly affected, while I was battling centipedes and touring Venus -- or was it Iceland? Holy shit, are you telling me I completely bugged out and you didn't even notice? You didn't once consider that I was silently freaking out? You didn't freak out? What the hell was in that stuff, and why did I go psychotic while you were fine???
I guess I've learned a couple of things from this experience. Number one, I cannot handle drugs. Not even weed. Not even one hit. This is absolutely it; I'm not going to do this again, ever. I don't know what the hell's wrong with me that I would have had a "bad trip" on marijuana, that evidently didn't affect the other two in any unpleasant way, but it happened and I'm NOT going to let it happen again. Ever. I can't handle drugs. There's got to be something weird about my body chemistry, or maybe I'm missing my THC receptors in my brain, or maybe I've got too many of them or something... Regardless, what happened last night is not going to happen again.
Number two... I wonder why it was such a bad experience for me? They say the experiences you have while on ANY drug is just an intensified view of what's already on your mind. Thus, if you feel paranoid, you've been paranoid all along but haven't noticed it without chemical enhancement. Or if you feel euphoric, you've been euphoric; you just needed something to help you realize it. That theory scares me a little bit; is that REALLY what's going on in my mind? Am I really so terribly self-conscious? Am I honestly afraid of two people I consider dear friends? Okay, so the thing with the words in my notebook was weird, and I have no idea why I was thinking about Quentin Tarantino, but am I genuinely that lacking in the self-confidence department that I'm afraid of being seen by my friends? What the hell am I afraid of? Why would I believe they hate me? What's going on in my subconscious that would make me feel so guilty and ashamed of myself? Holy shit, I thought they were going to kill me, and I think I believed I deserved it...
Maybe I'm just not as stable as I thought I was... Oh, this is no good...
It's unbelievable, the neurosis festering inside me... It's as if I was just given an opportunity to examine the tense little crevices of my mind, and Diane, I just didn't like what I saw: somebody so obsessed with the idea of being fearless and gutsy, that I'm terrified of being afraid. Pretty counterproductive, really. A bunch of existential questions about my whole identity have arisen: who the hell am I, who the hell have I THOUGHT I am, what am I trying to be, and have I been going about it in all the wrong ways? I've not been myself. I've been trying to prove I'm proud of myself, that I know who I am, and I just don't think that's so anymore. I have no idea what I'm doing in the world. I have no idea how to relate to my friends and my peers. I don't have guts. Not even the beginnings of guts. I'm terrified, afraid of fucking everything. Last night, I encountered a few dozen traits I despise in other people, and they're in me... I could see this ego, this triumphant, bitchy, invincible pride, protecting a small, weak, frightened child. I could see the shakiness in my voice. I feel so, so fake.
I get the impression that Ian has known all along just how nervous he makes me, how I've been covering up the inhibitions with excuses and alcohol whenever he's around... "You make it seem like nothing bothers you," he said to me once, with a degree of disdain. I'd almost shot back, "Yes, well, YOU make it seem like nothing bothers you, either," but I held that in. I'm looking back on every sentence spoken between the two of us, and I'm ashamed. So many things I've wanted to say, so many questions I've wanted to ask, and I haven't done so. Or I've done so with a brevity, a callousness; I've asked my questions and stated my statements from behind a bundling board. Candy-coated words, coal-coated eyes: a smiley-sticker covered security-envelope containing all sorts of desires and insanities written on little black slips of paper... How misleading. How ugly. What a joke. I wonder if Bronwyn too has the insight to notice that the perkiness and rambunctious enthusiasm extend only a few layers deep.
Layers. The "layered" words I saw; the vastness of their colors. If the neurotic centipede visions and the deluded need for invisibility were limitative, the textural pastel letters that leapt out of my notebook must have been metaphorical depths and heights of possibility. But I'm getting too analytical now.
I'll wait for another time to catalogue and analyze what happened last night. After all, today Bronwyn and Ian are taking me to see North Bend! The town of "Twin Peaks"! More than ten years I've been waiting to see if the town matches the glorious soundtrack written for it, and there's not a chance I'm going to allow ANY chemical substances, (or the effects thereof, OR any personal psycho-analytic tendencies) to come between this town and myself. I'll see it with awe or disappointment, but I'll see it without allowing last night to hinder my sight.
I just hope Ian and Bronwyn aren't going to take me out there and push me into the waterfall.
(Kidding... Really I am...)
Ian's going to work now, but leaving early to join in the adventure...