Taking ecstasy is like this:
You swallow a small pill. After anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour you look down at the table in front of you and you think, “Wow. What are all these marbles?”
They’re arranged in a neat little pile, glossy, irridescent and shot through with color. Thanks to the little white “S” they look like Skittles from Heaven. But the little “S” actually stands for serotonin. The fun begins.
During the next three to four hours those little marbles pop, one by one (not like a balloon or a bubble might pop–it’s rather a smoky bloom, quiet expansion and then disspiation, like mist.) When they pop, something interesting happens. Exactly what can vary, but here are a few examples:
– You might yourself spreading your hands across the nearest soft pillow, impressed beyond words by its texture.
– You might smell your friend’s skin in a way that you might not in, say, a church or a board meeting.
– If you’re in a club, you might wonder why none of the world’s scientists have figured out that beat and melody might possibly cure the world’s ills. Especially this particular mix of “Star Guitar.”
– You might discover a passion you didn’t know you had for the color of your new friend’s eyes.
– You might find yourself utterly convinced that if the leaders fo the world could sit down in your living room under similar circumstances there we’d all enjoy world peace.
Sometimes the marbles cease their popping for a moment. Sometimes they go off like champagne. As the evening deepens and your collection of marbles has dissipated to nothing, you gather and watch a quirky comedy.
The next day you float like a glider angling towards the earth.
Then a few days later, you might be, oh…at work, say, and you might have had a conversation with your supervisor about your performance level maybe, and about how people are worried that your lower-than-usual work standard is the result of some tragic entropy of the will and you might say no, no, no, you’ve just been busy herding cats for the past month and you’re plumb knackered. You could really use some of those Skittles from Heaven.
But since you used up your weeks supply last Sunday your body’s busy making more. None of them are off the assembly line yet.
Welcome to the midweek comedown. Some are okay with it. Some hit the Earth like a meteor. (For me, there’s a clouding of the mind. A dark kind of quiet settles. My sense of humor slinks off to a corner to sulk.) Then after a day or so, the first new marble rolls off the conveyor with a clink. It unfolds. And your on your way back up. During this stage I always seem to cultivate an obsession with a band or a certain kind of music.
Oh and by the way, here’s a Wilco song for you to enjoy. I’ve been strangely obsessed with these guys this week.