Spring was in the air this past Thursday. I worked a little, went to the dentist, and leisurely shopped at the Beverly Center and Fred Segal. While watching the sun set on La Cienga from the deck of Baja Fresh, I get a text from this girl.

Chick: Hey, you want to go out and drink tonight.
Me: Sure.
Chick: Let’s go down to Little China.

From Tuesday night at Mood, I was already a little burnt on Hollywood, so…

Me: Yeah, sounds cool. Let’s hook up later.

The girl in question is a good looking tall 21-year-old that I don’t know very well…she said her boyfriend was in The Cult, was into doing acid, and liked porn. I don’t know a damn thing about Little China, but it did sound like it could be fun…so, fuck it — I’m down.

Around 10 she shows up at my house, we grab a $40 cab ride down to Little China and when we get there it is pretty much a few restaurants, an oriental hostess lounge, and a few bail bonds places. Apparently, she didn’t know shit about Little China either. The only thing that was open was the hostess lounge, so we sat down at the bar in front and started getting drunk with the locals.

By 1AM we are pretty lit up. She suggests we go back to my house, get high on drugs, and listen to metal.

Sounds like a perfectly good idea to me.

Keep in mind; I have no idea whether we are supposed to be on a date, just hanging out or whatever — no idea. My game is pretty much the anti-game anyways. You usually do better when you act like you don’t care.

Back at the crib I had a little bit of coke, a bunch of booze, and two pills of what I think is Mescaline. I had been holding onto those pills for nearly a year and she was the first person I had been around in years that was down for tripping with me. Just to be safe — we just started doing all three. I was hitting the foil, she was snorting, and we both were drinking, plus taken the mescaline pills. After a little while she was going to the foil with me.

Through my crack high, I actually start tripping my brains out. We start going through all of the usual tripping antics – goofing off on the roof, listening to music, and floundering around on the living room floor.

We were fucked up as a football bat – I am talking fucked-up-as-Jesse-Jackson’s-checkbook fucked up. We are so torn out of our skulls we couldn’t even smoke crack properly. At some point, I am sure that we smoked aluminum foil sans-cocaine or some cat litter.

It could have been either.

I try to turn on my laptop to show her some of the stuff I’d been writing — crazy flashing windows start popping up, dormant virus begin to activate, the internet wouldn’t connect – damn, that computer was really fucked. I shut it down.

I need to fix it when I come down.

Of course, if you know me — you know where this blog is headed. It wasn’t long before things took a turn towards the sexual and thank Allah that they did! God really is great! I love Sex on hallucinogens!

On a scale of 1-10, my performance was around the same as the wind speed of a New Orleans’s hurricane.

I laid it down.

5 hours of sex later, the drugs finally start wearing off and with the aid of some Xanex we finally pass out at 11:30AM.

It was 7PM before I woke back up.

The room hung with the odor of burnt tin foil and coke, condoms were strewn everywhere, and my laptop sat the flashing multiple innocuous IM messages:

IM Messages: Jay, where have you been? We’ve been trying top get hold of you all day.

If they only knew.

Ra-qua.

Jay