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- a member for 20 years, 5 months and 30 days
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» Shame
Nutmeggin'.
I wrote a (somewhat lengthy) recount on this a while ago, so I'll cull out the uninteresting parts.
I'd tried nutmeg only days before, a Sunday, after an amount of research. A simple kitchen spice, ingested in large amounts, being a fairly powerful hallucinogen. I didn't take much the first time. Testing the waters, as it were. It was nice, but not as mind-blowing as other reports had said. I'd had 6 whole nutmegs. I resolved to take 7 the next time.
Come Wednesday, I was ready to try it again. I'd re-stocked on nutmeg, though from a different supplier. I chucked 7 into the mortar, and ground at it for an hour and a half. After mustering up the courage, I swallowed it all (around 3 am) and retired for the night (I was to go to school the next day).
The next day came up. I was up and at school. Following a few hours of uneventfulness, it was the last period of the day. A filler subject, fairly boring.
A was sitting there, small groups had formed, incessantly chittering. The teacher stood by the door with one group. I was starting to feel somewhat ill, I could feel no colour in my face. Suddenly, my stomach contracted. Vomit sped up my throat, a small amount expelling itself into my mouth. I swallowed it, looked at the clock, 5 minutes left.
Again, a contraction. A slightly larger amount came into my mouth. I swallowed it, confident in my ability to swallow whatever my stomach through at me (I was off my head, alright?). Not 20 seconds later, my stomch contracted harder than before. It sloshed into my mouth, half filling it. I gulped it down, before resolving to stand up and be excused from the room.
I gathered my belongings, slew my bag around my shoulders, and walked up to teacher. I asked if I could leave for the toilet. He silently stepped out of my path. I thanked him, and made a hasty retreat.
This is the part burnt into my memory. The single feeling, the image. Not 10 meters down the hall, a small pool forming in thin air, right in front of my eyes. The relieved feeling in my stomach. The painful realisation of what was happening. As the ochre spheres rained onto the cement of the floor, I sped up my pace. I looked behind me, nobody was looking out of the door. The windows were frosted, so nobody had seen through those. Relief as it was, my stomach was still rumbling. The brisk walk developed into a jog, as I burst into the bathroom. I'd barely locked myself inside a stall before delivering two more loads of vomit into the toilet. My eyes were watering to the point where I could feel the tears running down my face.
I went to the sink, splashed some water on face, and made a retreat. I got to the doorway when the bell went. Being a bludge lesson, people were already lined up at the exit of the classroom. I spared another glance back. It had appeared that they'd walked straight past it without noticing. Something I still severely doubt. I half-ran out of their sight.
To this day, nobody has said a thing. But they know. They must.
(Fri 25th Nov 2005, 11:00, More)
Nutmeggin'.
I wrote a (somewhat lengthy) recount on this a while ago, so I'll cull out the uninteresting parts.
I'd tried nutmeg only days before, a Sunday, after an amount of research. A simple kitchen spice, ingested in large amounts, being a fairly powerful hallucinogen. I didn't take much the first time. Testing the waters, as it were. It was nice, but not as mind-blowing as other reports had said. I'd had 6 whole nutmegs. I resolved to take 7 the next time.
Come Wednesday, I was ready to try it again. I'd re-stocked on nutmeg, though from a different supplier. I chucked 7 into the mortar, and ground at it for an hour and a half. After mustering up the courage, I swallowed it all (around 3 am) and retired for the night (I was to go to school the next day).
The next day came up. I was up and at school. Following a few hours of uneventfulness, it was the last period of the day. A filler subject, fairly boring.
A was sitting there, small groups had formed, incessantly chittering. The teacher stood by the door with one group. I was starting to feel somewhat ill, I could feel no colour in my face. Suddenly, my stomach contracted. Vomit sped up my throat, a small amount expelling itself into my mouth. I swallowed it, looked at the clock, 5 minutes left.
Again, a contraction. A slightly larger amount came into my mouth. I swallowed it, confident in my ability to swallow whatever my stomach through at me (I was off my head, alright?). Not 20 seconds later, my stomch contracted harder than before. It sloshed into my mouth, half filling it. I gulped it down, before resolving to stand up and be excused from the room.
I gathered my belongings, slew my bag around my shoulders, and walked up to teacher. I asked if I could leave for the toilet. He silently stepped out of my path. I thanked him, and made a hasty retreat.
This is the part burnt into my memory. The single feeling, the image. Not 10 meters down the hall, a small pool forming in thin air, right in front of my eyes. The relieved feeling in my stomach. The painful realisation of what was happening. As the ochre spheres rained onto the cement of the floor, I sped up my pace. I looked behind me, nobody was looking out of the door. The windows were frosted, so nobody had seen through those. Relief as it was, my stomach was still rumbling. The brisk walk developed into a jog, as I burst into the bathroom. I'd barely locked myself inside a stall before delivering two more loads of vomit into the toilet. My eyes were watering to the point where I could feel the tears running down my face.
I went to the sink, splashed some water on face, and made a retreat. I got to the doorway when the bell went. Being a bludge lesson, people were already lined up at the exit of the classroom. I spared another glance back. It had appeared that they'd walked straight past it without noticing. Something I still severely doubt. I half-ran out of their sight.
To this day, nobody has said a thing. But they know. They must.
(Fri 25th Nov 2005, 11:00, More)
» Teenage Poetry
Hmm.
Just today, actually. Turns out I am a teenager. And one that doesn't have a clue about ancient history, so resorts to writing haikus and hoping the teacher will get enough of a laugh out of them to give me a decent mark.
Ramesses, Jesus
Who would win in a knife fight?
Ramesses, for sure.
Ramesses, rapper
Watch him bust out a sweet rhyme
Good one, Ramesses
Or something along those lines. There was 4 in total.
(Fri 12th Aug 2005, 14:08, More)
Hmm.
Just today, actually. Turns out I am a teenager. And one that doesn't have a clue about ancient history, so resorts to writing haikus and hoping the teacher will get enough of a laugh out of them to give me a decent mark.
Ramesses, Jesus
Who would win in a knife fight?
Ramesses, for sure.
Ramesses, rapper
Watch him bust out a sweet rhyme
Good one, Ramesses
Or something along those lines. There was 4 in total.
(Fri 12th Aug 2005, 14:08, More)
» Evidence that you're getting old
Well
I think that the 80s was the best era for music.
I'm incapable of liking any sings on the charts.
The only movie that's come out this year that's actually funny is Shaun of the Dead. I mean, White Chicks? What the crappings?
I look at most teenagers as little runts that deserve to be put down.
Catch is, I'm 15.
(Sat 30th Oct 2004, 12:33, More)
Well
I think that the 80s was the best era for music.
I'm incapable of liking any sings on the charts.
The only movie that's come out this year that's actually funny is Shaun of the Dead. I mean, White Chicks? What the crappings?
I look at most teenagers as little runts that deserve to be put down.
Catch is, I'm 15.
(Sat 30th Oct 2004, 12:33, More)
» World's Sickest Joke
Good old gay jokes...
Three men are living together, one is straight, two are a gay couple.
One day, when coming home from work, the straight man hears some splashing sounds from the bathroom. The gay couple are usually out at this time, so he suspects it's an intruder.
He nudges open the bathroom door and leaps in; to see the gay couple pushing a piece of crap to each other, back and forth.
"What the hell are you doing!?" screams the straight guy, somewhat mortified.
"We're teaching our child to swim"
Horrible, I know. And no, it's not just copied and posted from the net, one of my mates told me it the other day.
(Sat 11th Sep 2004, 3:19, More)
Good old gay jokes...
Three men are living together, one is straight, two are a gay couple.
One day, when coming home from work, the straight man hears some splashing sounds from the bathroom. The gay couple are usually out at this time, so he suspects it's an intruder.
He nudges open the bathroom door and leaps in; to see the gay couple pushing a piece of crap to each other, back and forth.
"What the hell are you doing!?" screams the straight guy, somewhat mortified.
"We're teaching our child to swim"
Horrible, I know. And no, it's not just copied and posted from the net, one of my mates told me it the other day.
(Sat 11th Sep 2004, 3:19, More)
» My Worst Vomit
Mine
I was really hungry, so I had a packet of choc-mint biscuits. Then half a block of chocolate. And a bit of wine.
Shortly after (in the shower, must be clean) I chundered.
'Twas black. Tasted really, really good coming back. I highly recommend it.
(Fri 20th Aug 2004, 9:57, More)
Mine
I was really hungry, so I had a packet of choc-mint biscuits. Then half a block of chocolate. And a bit of wine.
Shortly after (in the shower, must be clean) I chundered.
'Twas black. Tasted really, really good coming back. I highly recommend it.
(Fri 20th Aug 2004, 9:57, More)