Tears in the House of Mirth

By G.D. Kessler

This is a book of Anecdotes, Musings and Poetry drawn from the Author's life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781387683918

Book preview

LSD

Being a sophomore in high school was tough, especially when all my friends were smoking cigarettes, drinking alcohol and starting to smoke marijuana. I had managed to not be corrupted, yet. Little did I know how soon my future was going to change.

My afternoon class was Biology, and my lab partner was this hippy type named Bill R. You know the type: long hair, Levis patched with leather, boots. He always rebelled in class, as I did; but I was the furthest thing from a hippy. He always talked about getting high and partying. I was just not interested.

In the classroom there was this stuffed Pelican up on a high shelf. Bill, always before the teacher arrived, would put a home rolled cigarette in the bird’s beak. I was so naïve. One day I commented about the bird smoking a cigarette and he replied that the bird was not smoking a cigarette but was getting high on pot.

Bill was highly intelligent, and although his stories about smoking pot and drinking did not attract me in the least, when he started talking about his trips on STP and LSD, well, these stories drew my interest. The visions and hallucinations sounded so cool. It wasn’t too long before I asked him to get me some STP.

Finally the day arrived, and Bill had a disappointing story to tell. He could not get any STP (which was supposed to be like a 2 day trip) but he could get me some LSD. I was of mixed emotions having my heart set on the STP, but finally decided to accept the LSD.

I took the LSD Saturday night at home. I waited a half-hour, an hour, and still didn’t feel anything. So I rode my bike over to my friend Bob V.’s house. His parents were gone for the night. I figured I could relax over there.

About 45 minutes after getting to his house I started to feel these powerful body rushes like my entire system was speeding up and then slowing back down in just seconds, my muscles twitching with energy, my mind slowing. Then I noticed how I seemed to be seeing more clearly and could distinguish many, many colors in everything I saw. And the music we were listening to, Led Zeppelin, it was great! So deep!

When I waved my hand through the air I could see the trails it left behind, almost as if my perception of time had slowed so much that I could distinguish between each individual position my hand existed in as it traveled through space. And if I looked closely at any surface I could see it crawl, as if I could see all the way down into its molecular structure. Time seemed to have slowed down, and all of it was just funny! I had a fantastic understanding of the universe. I could tear apart logical thought processes so easily.

This went on for hours. I finally got home after midnight. I didn’t sleep all that night. The hallucinations were vivid and awesome. It seemed my whole world changed that night.

Sunday morning all in the household had to go to church. I was still tripping a little and went to church like this. It seemed so strange. The entire atmosphere was subtly altered.

I finally eventually got home, came down from the drug, and crashed out. When I woke later in the afternoon I knew that I wanted more LSD. My life had reached one of those turning points where you know that your entire future hinges on the decision you make now.

I made that decision. I was going to trip again, and again. Thus was the door opened to addiction, and a life ruled by drugs. Little did I know that less than a year later I would be injecting heroin for the first time, and then anything else I could find that fit in a needle and mixed up in a spoon.

Mirror

Am I unclothed and in my right mind;

do I stand naked before you?

My thoughts remain hidden,

veiled by the words that I speak.

My behaviors are sleight of hand,

as an illusionist waving his arms to distract.

I am straight jacketed in my beliefs,

chained to the only path I know.

Shrouded in darkness my heart

yearns for flight that will free my soul

and open my eyes giving me life

in the midst of hardship, pain and death.

Yet this is my Father's world,

and He is sovereign over all.

Do you know my struggles

for every breath of air?

To strive for meaning

to justify each beat of my heart?

Do you know my loss and failure

as seen through my eyes?

Is my joy and laughter as loud

as my cries of anguish and suffering?

in the darkness of the night

that goes on and on

into the void that is the grave

in my Father's world?

Yet this is my Father's world;

for I am His, and He is mine.

The Elevator

Class of 1972, that was my claim to fame. My senior year was starting off great. I knew two girls, both class of ’72, that worked in the attendance office. I would routinely have them call my last period chemistry teacher at the beginning of class and tell him that I was needed in the attendance office. I, of course, not being needed, would meet up with the girls and I would leave school early.

On this typically short day my friend Doug W. and I went over to the nearby Kaiser Hospital located just behind the High School. We liked to ride the big gurney transport elevators. We’d found out through much experimentation that while riding in them if you put your hands on the inside of the doors and pulled them apart the elevator would stop. No alarm would sound. Then when you pushed the doors back closed the elevator would resume its journey. We could just sit there a while, which we often did and smoked a joint. It was so cool; there was no way to get caught.

On this day we found that all the gurney transport elevators were in use. We needed a backup plan. Luckily there were these other smaller elevators used by visitors. We had never used them before, so we thought that they may just fit our needs perfectly.

We entered one of the small elevators and rode up and down a few floors until we were alone. Then, going up to the 4th floor, we pulled the doors apart and the elevator came to a complete stop.

Doug and I looked at each other and great big smiles broke out on our faces. We had been waiting what seemed like forever to get high. (In actuality it had been just since that morning, smoking a morning joint before school being a daily practice.)

Doug pulled out three joints of some killer weed. He lit one, and he and I smoked it slowly, savoring its wonderful flavor and heady aroma. Slowly the high washed over us. Ah yes, this was life at its finest.

It must have taken a good 20 minutes to smoke the joint. By the time we were done we were both good and high, our eyes were beet red and these crazy smiles were on our faces. Anything was funny.

We decided to get going, and maybe get something to eat. Doug pushed the elevator doors closed again. To our surprise the elevator did not move. We couldn’t figure out what was wrong. I mean, it always worked on the other elevators.

We tried pushing every button on the control panel. We tried opening and closing the doors many times and in different combinations. I tried to use the emergency phone, after we hid our two remaining joints in the emergency telephone box, just in case, you know? Nobody answered the phone. We hit the emergency alarm, but it was way too loud. And we were a little paranoid.

I finally thought to check out the hatch at the top of the elevator. I pushed up on it and it popped right