Sam Paul - Why I Committed Suicide

As bad as that was, I was put in an even worse situation the next day. We were all tripping during the final day of driving towards home and I got elected to drive because I had been on acid the most during our whole adventure and stupid logic dictated I likely had the most immunity. Actually, I volunteered to drive after everybody smoked a fat joint and it looked like we were either going to sit on the side of the road laughing our asses off all day if I didn’t drive. Everything went fine during the day while I was peaking but after dark, wouldn’t you know, I got pulled over by a State Trooper for having only one headlight. One of the big halogens in the van burnt out at some point and nobody even noticed. I was scared shitless because I just knew the officer would see my eyes were dilated and then everything would get seriously fucked up, but God must have seen fit to bestow another blessing on me. I gave the officer my driver’s license and John’s insurance, which was thankfully all in order, and then he made me get out of the car and walk around with him and then sit in the passenger side of his Camaro crotch rocket State Highway Patrol car. I thought I was going to freak out and die right there because my acid started kicking in again really strong thanks to all the nervous adrenaline coursing through my body. I’ve never had a ticket where the cop made me sit in the front seat of the police car while he wrote it and I did my best to present the polite vacation innocent college kid image to him, but I was so tweaked that I couldn’t help but ask about all the magical glowing computers, radar detectors and other futuristic cop gadgets that were blinking and flashing their hypnotic lights from the dashboard in front of me. If I hadn’t been so nervous it would have been really fucking cool but I had to really focus in order to myself to keep from wigging out. Everything turned out okay though I got a ticket and we stopped at an auto parts store to change the light bulb. Viking Mike accidentally dropped the old bulb in the parking lot of the auto store and we had to burn out of there when the manager threatened to call the cops. Everyone was officially weirded out by that point so John B. used his credit card to spring for a motel room so we could stop driving for the night. I should get home fairly early tomorrow, showered and refreshed. I’m anxious to sleep in my own house in my own bed and recover from my vacation.

I get to see Jenifer tomorrow!!!

I’m in a state of Buddha-like bliss. The adventure I just completed has served to remind me of the little things I take for granted in my ordinary drudgery. Got home. Felt good. I immediately called Jenifer and she came right over with the most bouncing schoolgirl cheerleader enthusiasm I’ve ever seen in her. I swelled up with so much pride and love, all I could do was just hold her and kiss her for the longest time.

Oh God, when I finally held her in my arms and inhaled the scent of her skin, after what seemed like an eternity of separation, I wanted to pull her body into mine. Feeling the muscles in her back and tasting her lips makes me know for sure I’m with the girl of my fantasies. I have a woman every young boy would promise his soul to the devil for a chance at, and she wants me as much as I want her. It’s as if the excitement and danger of finding my old man’s ancient Playboy collection is suddenly real life. We couldn’t control ourselves after the weeklong chastity belt was suddenly released. Need took over, a need for each other accompanied by a mutual relief we both felt, knowing that when the Earth moved for us we were both aware and we were still reveling in playing with our gift of each other. Intense. Intense. Intense.

When I finally entered her, it felt as if I was parting the oceans of the world.

When time finally slowed down again and other awarenesses intruded into our dimension we talked for a long time about what we had both been doing during our time apart. Jenifer told me how she had been telling everyone with giggly (that’s my word, not hers) enthusiasm “Sam gets home today,” which made me glad I made the effort to get back to Denton so quickly. I know that from this moment on we will be together but instead of feeling penned in and constricted, I feel free. My soul mate, my lover, my companion, my partner in crime and extension of me. I’ve never felt this strongly attached to a girlfriend, truthfully I didn’t think it would be possible to find a woman that I respect as an equal. I’m not sure I’ll be able to take care of somebody else, not being fully able to even take care of myself, but I want to give it a try and help her take care of me. Sorry I’m rambling. I’m spinning in a post-coital bliss, dizzy with love I guess, but it is soooooo right.

Jim got the acid I mailed and he agreed that it was really good shit. Kirk and Jim went on a tripping binge and Jim must have done about 20 hits in the week or so I’ve been missing. I think I went through about forty myself so there are plenty of extras for later use. I’m a little burned out, but my mission of getting killer LSD has been a decided success. I returned home from my sex-capades to an outcry of enthusiasm and thanks from the house.

Tonight will be a night of rest. A full menu of watching rented movies on the VCR, lounging in the La-Z-Boys with the lights off and smoking massive bong hits out of “Skeletor.” It’s good to use the bong again, even if I’m back to regular schwag weed for a while. It’s good to be back.

Sorry to myself for taking so long to write (yet) again. I’m still having a great summer. Jenifer and I are falling into a comfortable routine of work and discovering each other in new ways during our leisure time. Both Dan and Jim have Hi8 camcorders, which I’ve been fucking around with a lot, but not as much as I would like to. I am officially an RTVF major now so playtime has purpose and thus isn’t playtime any longer.

The other day, we all went skating in this great sewer pipe one of Dan’s friends told us about. We set up the cameras and videotaped the whole session. It was fun but watching the tape at home later I realized how much I suck at skating. Well I don’t really suck suck since I am out there doing it but halfpipes are a fairly new genre for me. I feel like a poser street skater most of the time. Later on, sitting in the lazy boy, smoking pot and watching us cruise back and forth in slow motion with our arms waving ungracefully around in the air for balance made Jenifer and I laugh a lot. She’s working at the Flying Tomato with me now but she hasn’t been there long enough to get on the cool shifts yet. And NO I do not feel threatened having a workplace relationship. We’re now both sick of eating pizza for every meal except for the occasional late night binges on roofies.

I bought a half pipe skate ramp from some kid in the pizza shop for $50. I’m not sure yet how I’ll be able to move it across town and into our massive backyard but when I do it’ll be totally bitching. Do people still say that? I think if I can cut the ramp into three pieces, lay each piece over the bed of our friend Sweeny’s half-ton pickup, manage to find about 12 people to help lift it one piece at a time on and off the truck and maybe if I pray hard enough to the gods of architecture, we should be able to get the whole damn thing back together. Hopefully it will be all good. I watched some guy fall on his arm wrong the other day and listened to the sickening snap and look of disbelief as he stood up and his arm just dangled by his side in a deformed manner. Some girl with a car hauled him off the hospital but I don’t think he’ll be skating for a long time. That first glimmer of mortality in relation to a fun pastime kills a lot of the enthusiasm in real skaters. My first glimmer of mortality happened when I thought I was only play fighting with a kid named Joel Hopkins on the playground in Elementary school. He got genuinely pissed and put me in a headlock with his thumb in my eye. I remember being pretty shook up and thinking about how creepy it would be to lose an eye in some stupid playground skirmish. After that I only got into one fight in school and that was much later in high school because I made fun of a Mexican girl in my P.E. class and I pretty much deserved a sock in the eye from her boyfriend for that I suppose. No harm, no foul. Since the original eye thing there have been a progression of confrontations with my mortality, but fortunately nothing associated with skateboarding yet.