To Nereus
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
To Nereus
During your more, um, "trancendental" periods, did you ever consider trying out cannabis?
-
IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
As Nereus
He smirks knowingly.
"To put it simply, most of my life on the surface has passed in various combinations of misery and false cheer. Moss wine is hard to come by once you're out of range of any brine pool, with drunkenness or willing food comas not always granting me complete release from anxiety. I would find ways to push through each evening, doing my best to smile through it all. Considering, I would be lying if I didn't mention attempting various forms of THC intake during my so-called formative years as Renewal's head...
At first, Chambers was tolerant of my experiments. I found a dealer who specialized in the Sativa variety in the very height of the Flower Power era. His stock made me feel energized and confident which, unfortunately for dear Jonathan, meant increased rebelliousness on my part. The kinds of threats I would have recoiled against now made me laugh to the point where my face hurt and I felt close to retching. The much-vaunted munchies didn't take me if I smoked Sativa, but Amaxi's Blood - you wouldn't believe how interesting everything was! I wanted to watch and read everything for hours on end, until I'd find myself drifting away, trudging off to sleep without realizing it, wordless bliss coming out of me in random mutterings or gurgling sounds. I'd sleep the sleep of the dead, and then awaken with a bout of melancholy; the previous day's irrational fun feeling so remote, so far away...
So, of course, Chambers switched my stock for Indica without telling me...
I remember having an Iron Butterfly tribute band over for dinner, having spent most of the evening trying to please Chambers by acting out the part of the Spiritualist master doing his best to expose his already-frosted guests to the true meanings of their original compositions. Suddenly, the conversation became painfully hard to follow. My bursts of intuition became further spaced apart, and my head lolled uselessly. Eyes closed, I imagined myself tearing off my Flesh Mask in front of these poor men, felt my tentacles push against the skin... I wanted to lift my tendrils and somehow play with them, but knew I couldn't. I knew I was awake and deeply wanted to interact somehow, but I could do little as Chambers took over and I simply stood there, chin on my chest, a corner of my mind snoring for the fun of it. Half of me thought that pretending to sleep by noisily snoring was hilarious, the other half desperately wanted to maintain control.
Suffice it to say, I panicked. None of it showed, of course - all that my guests saw was a supposedly contented man, interrupting his irresistible drug-induced naps to land what felt like a complicit stare or some drunken chuckle. I could hear Chambers lying and spinning words and dragging them deeper, the poor young men - but could scarcely lift a muscle other than to shovel food in my mouth. Eating felt ritualized, even moreso than Harrogath's own enforced spells of gluttony can. 'If I eat,' I told myself, 'I'll snap out of it. Become sober again.'
Of course, it didn't work. The spiral of anxiety grew bigger and bigger, until I'd have no choice but to excuse myself. The entire night would pass in a seesaw pattern, anxiety giving way to some stupid and hilarity-inducing thought, giving way to rare bouts of lucidity. My efforts to keep myself grounded motivated the other aspects of my research, but what had begun as a simple tool had turned into an extra set of shackles. It's informed a lot of the bloopers Renewal's video producers worked tirelessly to censor: me falling asleep during a sitting body scan, my failing to show empathy in front of a - thankfully fake - grieving woman by failing to contain an uproarious bout of laughter, or how every single cut saw me go to the catering table and stain my supposedly pristine shirts with marinara sauce...
A few hours later, the comedown would see me weeping in my trailer or back at the compound, the ridiculous good cheer of earlier having shifted to gnawing regret and a pervasive sense of paranoia. Needless to say, I ended up finding ways to have myself quit without Chambers noticing. It mostly involved spoiling my conquest of the moment with a new dog, and later spoiling Fido with two-thirds of my share of a pot-laced carrot cake...
I was only pretending to be high by the time my last few recorded addled states gave Chambers some PR work - and of course, my list of symptoms now made me conveniently intolerable in front of a camera or a microphone. If Chambers liked this sham so much, then I'd make him earn his paycheck, I'd decided - and that would involve becoming a blundering pothead whilst in view of the public.
He adjusted, which forced me to adjust as well - while giving me an excuse to toss out the last of my pot-laced cooking oil. I vowed never to touch the stuff again. It prevented me from obliterating Xenophon Thanos' reputation, which I would've loved to do - but at least I was free of at least one set of shackles."
"To put it simply, most of my life on the surface has passed in various combinations of misery and false cheer. Moss wine is hard to come by once you're out of range of any brine pool, with drunkenness or willing food comas not always granting me complete release from anxiety. I would find ways to push through each evening, doing my best to smile through it all. Considering, I would be lying if I didn't mention attempting various forms of THC intake during my so-called formative years as Renewal's head...
At first, Chambers was tolerant of my experiments. I found a dealer who specialized in the Sativa variety in the very height of the Flower Power era. His stock made me feel energized and confident which, unfortunately for dear Jonathan, meant increased rebelliousness on my part. The kinds of threats I would have recoiled against now made me laugh to the point where my face hurt and I felt close to retching. The much-vaunted munchies didn't take me if I smoked Sativa, but Amaxi's Blood - you wouldn't believe how interesting everything was! I wanted to watch and read everything for hours on end, until I'd find myself drifting away, trudging off to sleep without realizing it, wordless bliss coming out of me in random mutterings or gurgling sounds. I'd sleep the sleep of the dead, and then awaken with a bout of melancholy; the previous day's irrational fun feeling so remote, so far away...
So, of course, Chambers switched my stock for Indica without telling me...
I remember having an Iron Butterfly tribute band over for dinner, having spent most of the evening trying to please Chambers by acting out the part of the Spiritualist master doing his best to expose his already-frosted guests to the true meanings of their original compositions. Suddenly, the conversation became painfully hard to follow. My bursts of intuition became further spaced apart, and my head lolled uselessly. Eyes closed, I imagined myself tearing off my Flesh Mask in front of these poor men, felt my tentacles push against the skin... I wanted to lift my tendrils and somehow play with them, but knew I couldn't. I knew I was awake and deeply wanted to interact somehow, but I could do little as Chambers took over and I simply stood there, chin on my chest, a corner of my mind snoring for the fun of it. Half of me thought that pretending to sleep by noisily snoring was hilarious, the other half desperately wanted to maintain control.
Suffice it to say, I panicked. None of it showed, of course - all that my guests saw was a supposedly contented man, interrupting his irresistible drug-induced naps to land what felt like a complicit stare or some drunken chuckle. I could hear Chambers lying and spinning words and dragging them deeper, the poor young men - but could scarcely lift a muscle other than to shovel food in my mouth. Eating felt ritualized, even moreso than Harrogath's own enforced spells of gluttony can. 'If I eat,' I told myself, 'I'll snap out of it. Become sober again.'
Of course, it didn't work. The spiral of anxiety grew bigger and bigger, until I'd have no choice but to excuse myself. The entire night would pass in a seesaw pattern, anxiety giving way to some stupid and hilarity-inducing thought, giving way to rare bouts of lucidity. My efforts to keep myself grounded motivated the other aspects of my research, but what had begun as a simple tool had turned into an extra set of shackles. It's informed a lot of the bloopers Renewal's video producers worked tirelessly to censor: me falling asleep during a sitting body scan, my failing to show empathy in front of a - thankfully fake - grieving woman by failing to contain an uproarious bout of laughter, or how every single cut saw me go to the catering table and stain my supposedly pristine shirts with marinara sauce...
A few hours later, the comedown would see me weeping in my trailer or back at the compound, the ridiculous good cheer of earlier having shifted to gnawing regret and a pervasive sense of paranoia. Needless to say, I ended up finding ways to have myself quit without Chambers noticing. It mostly involved spoiling my conquest of the moment with a new dog, and later spoiling Fido with two-thirds of my share of a pot-laced carrot cake...
I was only pretending to be high by the time my last few recorded addled states gave Chambers some PR work - and of course, my list of symptoms now made me conveniently intolerable in front of a camera or a microphone. If Chambers liked this sham so much, then I'd make him earn his paycheck, I'd decided - and that would involve becoming a blundering pothead whilst in view of the public.
He adjusted, which forced me to adjust as well - while giving me an excuse to toss out the last of my pot-laced cooking oil. I vowed never to touch the stuff again. It prevented me from obliterating Xenophon Thanos' reputation, which I would've loved to do - but at least I was free of at least one set of shackles."