Feeding my head on a Monday night down in the West Village

As much as I want to get some sleep right now, its gonna be at least a few more hours till the smack leaves my system. The original plan was to take two tabs and see where the night goes from there. Everything changed when Chris got a call from the dealer and said we'd have to wait until the weekend to take him up on the $5 tabs.

As disspointed as I was, everything happens for a reason. Chris was still determined to feed his head. When he first mention his backup plan I was skeptic. The last $15 I spent on a pill from this motherfucker felt like money down the drain. When Chris said the shit he got now is alot better, my first instincts was he's full of shit. He said the same thing about the shit I took being better than the Bart Simpson E he sold Chris weeks ago.

When Chris came back to Washingon Square Park with the shit, I popped it expecting another placebo high that would probably go nowhere. For the first hour and change my stomache just felt warm at times. It wasn't until a group appoached me that the shit started to take on more than a placebo effect. The whole time Chris was ahead of me about 45 minutes being that he likes to pop shit the second it gets in his hand.

While playing "Breakfast at Tiffany's" I made more than one comment about tripping hardcore. After making my way into Wicked Willy's, it was one of those "What the fuck did I get myself into" sort of trips. Making my way back outside there were some free samples that didn't seem like a bad idea at the time to part take in. The dude poured some shit in my hand and told me to put in on my gums. Its dumb how I waited till after I did it to inquire about what it was.

Essentially its the same shit that's keeping me up right now. And to think the dominoes all trace back to getting the can from a gig. Regardless of all the twist and turns of the past 24 hours I still had a good night. Earlier Chris and I crashed a party at a restaurant. After grabbing my plate and reaching for some food, some dude asked who invited me to the private party. I told him something along the lines of "Nobody but this is how I roll". The sweet aroma of burgers hit me from the corner of the block. We somewhat got off track from the direct route to Washington Square Park and found ourselves in the bowery. If Chris wasn't with me I would've probably went back in for some more food and possibly another cup of beer from the keg.

I guess what really made the night was this dude we met from Minneapolis who was proud to show us shots he took of Beyonce's camel toe earlier outside of Madison Square Garden. Quite honestly I see celebrity sightings like tits. Its nothing I go looking for, but when they're out its nice to look at. Minneapolis did come in handy as far as bumming smokes.

Earlier that night a dude I met in the park laid down his jacket on the sidewalk and lied down. Where my mind was presently at, the only thing that would've stopped me from doing the same thing is cops see that as sort of a red flag and one thing I hate is having pigs in my face (especially as a buzz killer). I did strech out on the F train on the ride back to 179th Street. After ending my set with "White Rabbit" I gave the guitar to Chris and said "I spoke my peace". The first tune I played in West 4th was "Comfortably Numb" which pretty much summed up the last 24 hours.

I got dry mouth like a motherfucker so I'll probably grab a drink and find some other way to occupy my time before sleep kicks in. At some points I'll fill in the blanks and hope to yet again gain some perspective from the experience (hopefully for the better).