Tag Archives: designer drugs

The Rave Scene, Special K and Smoking My Dad’s Pot

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English: Ketamine Hydrochloride

English: Ketamine Hydrochloride (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Beck’s album “Mutations” came out in 1998, and though it was less popular than his previous album “O’Delay”, it was always my favorite of his.  One of the lyrics of the song “We Live Again” stated;

Love is a plague in a mix-match parade

Where the castaways look so deranged

When will the children learn to let their wildernesses burn

And love will be new never cold and vacant

My new girlfriend, Jamie and I were in the height of “letting our wildernesses burn”.  We were crazy, out of control kids.  I was 17, and she was almost 16.   We knew drug dealers that were dealing heavy, weird designer drugs in large quantities.  They had ties to mafia people with loaded metal guns strapped to their ankles.  They spent time in the ghettoes and crack-houses, encountering tweakers and midnight freaks.  And like the Soul Coughing song went in the billboards of January of 1999; “For the right price I could get everything, slip into the car, go driving to the farthest star.”  I was in a new arena of reckless relinquishment.  I was willing to try anything, do anything, eat anything, snort anything, smoke anything, go anywhere, get behind the wheel of any vehicle in any random state of mind and let the wind carry me into chaos.  Jaime’s malfeasance fueled my diablerie.  We were crazy kids connected to the source of destruction, perversity our food and drink, and some degree of violence our drug of choice. (Prov. 4:17, MSG)

One night, I snuck out for an all nighter with Jamie and a random group of our friends.  I took mushrooms earlier in the day, and drove down route 8 at 3 a.m., as the white lines in the road warped themselves like winding serpents.  I ended up taking LSD also, with the continual mixture of marijuana, nicotine and caffiene going around all that day.  I can’t piece together how it happened, but we all ended up partying at a stripper’s house in some high rise apartment in the middle of inner-city, Akron Ohio.  I know at some time during the evening I actually passed out in the middle of my combination trip for a good amount of time.  When I woke up, everyone was worried about me that I had gone into a coma.  I told them that I had just visited a dream-like world that resembled Candy-Land.  Everyone laughed at me, because I was so out of my mind.  But inside, I felt so lost.  What was I doing in this wild den of villainy?

One day, Jamie and I took LSD and ecstasy together, inducing what was called a “candy flip”.  We were coming off of this intense, psychedelic euphoria at a drug dealer’s house in our hometown of Hudson, Ohio.  They all broke out a weird, white powder called “Special K” or ketamine.  They explained that when you snorted a lot of this stuff, it put you into a “K-Hole”, which was like an out of body experience where you were in a consistent lucid dream.  Jaime and I snorted enough of it to get a buzz and not go into a K-Hole.  We looked around at our supposed friends, Angelique and her drug dealer boyfriend, Markus, and watching them slip into a sub reality from this drug, where it seemed like they were staring into the realm of a dark, different world.

Another time, Markus the drug dealer sold us a pill called “Nexus” or “2-CB’s”, which was a designer hallucinogen (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2C-B).  We ended up driving all over Akron.  Markus and his friend Darin stole random items from a coffee shop that we stumbled upon because they had a hunger for kleptomania.  The drug took over Jaime and I’s minds and caused us to hallucinate and feel generally nauseous.  We ended up at a rave in the ghetto of Akron sitting against the wall all night.  The drug had made Jamie completely ill.  We suffered through the evening as the bass from the house music that the DJ pumped out beat against our brains.  At sunrise, we exited the building, with no police intruding on the experience.  I talked to many people on the way out who were “tweakers”, addicted to meth-amphetamine.  I don’t remember any of the conversations, just that they seemed to talk a mile a minute, even after being up all night with no sleep.

One night I had taken a small dose of mushrooms, and pushed my 1988 Buick LeSabre down the driveway in neutral, only to start it up and go to pick up a large group of young kids between the ages of 14 and 16.  It was 1 a.m. in the morning, and we were heading to a party in Cleveland called “Get Freaky 3”.  We stopped at a gas station to fuel up and grab some drinks for what would be a night full of rave-dancing and dehydration.  A cop pulled into the station.  My car full of kids went into panic.  I told them all to stay cool.  The cop walked up to the window of our car.  “Hello, officer.”  I politely told him, with the mushrooms swimming in my stomach yet to kick in.  “Hey there son.”  The officer politely replied.  “Where exactly are you and this car full of people planning to go past curfew?”

“Oh let me explain officer.  I got a phone call from my friend Jaime here about 10 minutes ago.  They were stuck at a sleep-over party where people were doing some crazy things and really didn’t want to participate or be there.  She begged me to come and pick her and her friends up.”
“Seriously…”  The cop seemed suspicious as he shined his flashlight into the car, waiting for any of our pupils to dilate.  Nobody had had any drugs kick in yet, though.

“Yeah officer.  I felt really bad about leaving in the middle of the night.  But I explained it to my parents and they said it was ok.”

“So you’re going to take them right home, right now?”

“Yes, definitely.  I can’t wait to get back to sleep!”

“Alright then, I’ll follow you to make sure.”

I drove the car out of the gas station the wrong way, as my young crazy friends rejoiced in me pulling one over on the cop.  We roamed around for a bit towards Hudson Ohio, and eventually saw the cop veer away towards somewhere else.  When we knew we had lost him, we headed towards the massive rave party, and didn’t get caught.

Not long after this fiasco, I was rooting through my Dad’s closet one day, looking for a cigar to steal from him.  I looked in his cedar cigar humidor, and lifted up a small sheet of cedar wood, when something familiar flashed before my eyes.  A little bag was in the shadows of the container, and it contained a green, flowery substance.  I pulled the bag out, and gave it a whiff.  It was grade B skunk weed that appeared to be home grown.  Of course, being like I was, I stole a dime bag out of it.

Sometime later, I confronted my Dad on this…

“So Dad, I found a bag of dope in your cigar box.”

“Naw man, that wasn’t dope!  It was, uh…  Ok man, it was dope!”

“So all that crap about drugs being poison and you only trying pot 4 times was a bunch of (insert colorful expletive) man!”  I started to get angry.

“Look Ben, this can just be our little secret man, ok?  You can have all the grass you want now.  Your cousin Dan grows it and always has it for me.  I know it’s never cut with PCP or dipped in some kind of whacked out chemical.  I’d rather you smoked it than the stuff you’re getting.  That stuff can’t be trusted.”

“Seriously Dad?”

“Yeah Ben, seriously.  Just look man, don’t tell your Mom ok?  She can’t handle this stuff.”

“Ok man…”

“And hey, soon enough, when you turn eighteen, me and you can smoke together.”

Visions of my future flashed before my eyes in this moment.  Me, fat with a beard and mustache, eating cheetos and playing the newest video game system at the age of 42, and living in my parents’ basement.  It seemed like a dream come true at the age of 17…  Was it?

Things have certainly changed now…  My Dad and I are best friends, and he’s been off of drugs for eight years.  Read how the whole scenario blew up in our faces in the year 2000 here:  https://goddrugsandrocknroll.wordpress.com/2013/07/20/wasted-year/  Read about how my Dad became a Jesus Freak in 2005 here: http://benjaminbradfordwhite.wordpress.com/2011/03/04/how-my-dad-became-a-jesus-freak/

Jesus was speaking to corrupt religious leaders when He told them about their Father, the devil, that when he lies, he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies. (John 8:44b)  I was certainly no corrupt religious leader at this time.  At the age of 17, I was about as irreligious and unspiritual as I’ve ever been.  But I certainly sensed the sinister euphoria of continuing in my crimes when we made it to that party without getting caught.

My night life was filled with mischief, deceit and intoxication at a high level, and seemed to be a careless, Epicurean world of selfish jubilation.  I was officially being supplied with weed from my cannabis growing cousin via my Dad.  But everything around me was completely falling apart.  It’s almost as if I was so high all of the time, that I didn’t even see that it was happening.  The enemy of our souls comes only to steal and kill and destroy. (John 10:10a)  And will medicate your mind and befuddle your conscience to the point where you no longer believe that the sky is falling and the earth is shattering around you.

My relationship with my parents’ at this point was completely dysfunctional.  Me and my Dad were playing Beatles music together in my basement, both high.  My Mother was so worried that I would come home in a police car or a coffin that she began to go to therapy and was prescribed an anti-depressant called Prozac.  I don’t even remember most of the encounters I had with them in these days.  I was often sneaking out all night, during the school week and the weekend.  I would skip school altogether or just attend classes and sleep through them.  Teachers couldn’t get through to me.  I didn’t turn in any homework or participate.  I was failing every single class I was in.  It was the last semester of my senior year of high school and I was barely hanging on.

Jaime was also falling apart.  She was failing every class.  Her parents had a large flow of income and decided to ship her off to an all-girl boarding school in February of 1999, in hopes that she would pull her life together.  It was an oddball gathering the night that we wished her well for her departure, a collection of druggies and drug dealers all packed into a limo to eat dinner at a swanky restaurant.  Jamie was going to leave town, and I was going to be left to my own devices.  We made a pact that we would try and pull ourselves together.  We promised to quit using psychedelic drugs and work hard at pulling our grades together.  Our strange addictive patterns were about to experience an odd shift as the end of my high-school days approached.

 

A History Channel Documentary about LSD,

Ecstasy and the Rave Scene: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3id6j6nJmlo&feature=endscreen

National Geographic Documentary about Ketamine (Special K):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6QGl9Pwl2RI&feature=related

Adderall: Prescribed to Kids with ADHD, and Abused by Drug Addicts

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English: Adderall

English: Adderall (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My girlfriend left town, enrolled in an all-girl boarding school in the middle of nowhere in central Pennsylvania.  It was safe to say that I wouldn’t be able to keep in regular contact with her throughout the end of winter and spring of 1999 in Hudson, Ohio (in between Akron and Cleveland).  The months leading up to her departure in late February were filled with an over-abundance of drugs.  We had been taking ecstasy every weekend, sneaking out and going to all night rave parties in the city in the middle of the night, smoking dope all day, every day, continuing daily to be fueled by Adderall– prescription speed that Jaime’s parents had prescribed her to for her supposed ADHD.  When they were available, we’d take mushrooms, or do LSD, and we did a fair share of weird designer drugs like Nexus (2CBs- a designer hallucinogen) and Special-K (horse tranquilizer).

God and conscience had been the furthest thing from our minds, as the powerful experience of the drug ecstasy rolled us into an inter-twined love affair of blindly idealistic proportions.  This drug, technically named MDMA, brought one to an emotionally open state of mind, and a willingness to love and share deep emotions.  There was no moral compass to guide this love.  It was a blind love, a feeling, a moment.  It has been said that ecstasy is used in psychotherapy to repair broken marriages.  Any drug that would release all of the serotonin in one’s brain at once could potentially lead an individual to fall in love with a chair or a rainbow.  Jaime and I were certainly good friends and attracted to each other.  Ecstasy made us feel like we were Romeo and Juliet with the whole world crumbling around us.  I would literally sneak out in the middle of the night and come to her house.  She had a balcony at outside of her bedroom at her parents’ beautiful, large home.  She would tie together bed-sheets and throw them out of the balcony.  I would climb up, we would take whatever drugs we had, and the night would go wherever we felt like.  It was an intense physical, emotional, drug-fueled relationship.  She was a sophomore and I was a senior in High School.

Ecstasy had side effects, also.  I would try to sleep after a night of being high on it, and would have nightmares where my teeth would be grinding together, and I would be weeping and witnessing an illusory world of phantoms and angry minions cackling at me.  I would literally feel at times that I was grinding my teeth to the point where there were cracking and breaking in excruciating pain.  It wasn’t until 2 years later that I would read of the end of time and hear that “the Son of Man will send his angels, and they will gather out of his kingdom all causes of sin and all law-breakers, and throw them into the fiery furnace. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” (Matt. 13:41-42)  Much like my many horrific experiences on LSD, continued use of harder drugs plunged me into an experience of hell.  A few times, I woke up in the middle of the night after doing X, and my eyes were open, but I could not move my body.  I would begin to freak out, thinking that I was in a coma and would never awake again.  I would look around at the room and it would be hazy, though behind would lurk dark shadows that formed the faces of demons staring at me.  By some weird force of divinely inspired will, I would shake myself awake, as it would be drenched in sweat and fear.  I remember the sound in my ears resembling the feeling of sand being poured in my brain.  It was what I imagined an aneurism would feel like.  Many people talk of the euphoric and idealistic world that ecstasy creates.  Not many people talk of the after effects of this extreme drug.

Whatever idealism existed was now over for Jaime and I.  She was in Pennsylvania, given a new chance to pull her failing grades up and life together.  I was stuck, strung-out and lovesick, in Hudson, Ohio.  I had one semester of High School left.  I had scored nothing but F’s and one D for the first two quarters of my senior year of High School.  I was in the third quarter, and had nothing but F’s for grades.  In some classes, I had done so little homework and miserably failed so many quizzes and tests, that I had percentages of 20 and 15 and 38.  Mrs. Romito, our Assistant Principal, called me into her office…

“You’re on the ‘hot list’ Ben.”  She said into my beet-red, tired eyes.

“What’s the ‘hot list’?”  I apathetically replied.

“It’s a list with about seven people out of the three-hundred and eighty in the senior class who are in danger of failing twelfth grade.  Ben, if you don’t pull your grades up to at least D’s and C’s, you will not graduate High School this year.  You’ll be held back…”

I sulked in despair and despondency.

“But Ben…”  Mrs. Romito continued.  “I know that you are a bright kid.  Your record shows that you were once even in gifted programs in school.  Now what you’re doing in your personal life is not your business, but I really believe that if you pull it together, you can make it to graduation this year.”

Mrs. Romito offered me what many during this dark period of life would not have offered- hope.  I also remember being at home and talking with my Mom and Dad about this situation.  Obviously, Mrs. Romito contacted them about it.

“Look man.”  My Dad, Gary White, the once hipped-out, tripped-out 70’s musician turned successful businessman said.  “I know that you are so bright and gifted Ben!  I know you have done amazing things before!  I don’t see why you can’t do the impossible now!  Pull your grades up buddy!”

My Mom supported completely this idea.  “Yeah Ben!  I know you can do it!”  She would say.  “You’re such a smart guy!  You don’t want to be left behind and watch all of your classmates graduate without you!”

My parents also believed in me when I felt the least worthy.  So I resolved to do the seemingly impossible, and in 3 months time, I would attempt to pull 15%-40% F’s up to 70%-77% D’s and C’s.

Jaime was gone from my life for the time being.  I was filled with sorrow and withdrawal from our Candy Cane world of ecstasy fueled love the months before.  But without her, there wasn’t any point in continuing the wild party.  We would converse on the phone about our dilemma.

“Jaime, we have to get out of this crap-hole we have created.”  I said

“Yeah Ben, I know.  I’m totally going to get good grades while I’m here.”  She answered back from her rural Pennsylvanian, all-girl dorm.

“I will too Jaime.  We can help each other through this.  We’ve just got to stop getting high.  Will you stop if I stop?”

“Yes Ben.  I love you.”

“I love you too…”

Was it real love that we felt?  No…  It was infatuation that began with a heavy drug experience.  But we were leaning on each other more than ever.  We both had a chance to pull it together.

But I was still a drug addict.  By this point, I was smoking marijuana all day, every day, and doing hard drugs whenever I could.  I decided that I would just change my addiction to drugs that would make me function at a higher rate and not slow my brain down.  I didn’t want to tell Jaime, but I connected with other kids that were prescribed Adderall, a lighter form of meth-amphetamine.  I began to steadily supply myself with Adderall pills.  I resolved to not smoke pot, drink, or take hard drugs like psychedelics or Ecstasy.  I would, however, take stimulants.

This is how a day at school looked for me when this shift in habit began.

6 a.m.- wake up in a groggy haze, have a bowl of cereal or toast and then a cigarette or two.

6:30 a.m.- Brew an entire 12-cup pot of double-strength coffee.  Drink half of it at home- dark and black.

6:45 a.m.- Fill up a 6-cup thermos with the other half of the pot of coffee, say goodbye to parents.  Get in my 1988 Buick LeSabre and head to school.  Down an orange, 20 mg. pill of Adderall with a swig of coffee.  Smoke 3 more cigarettes.

7:00 a.m.- Arrive at school.  Talk to no one.  Study or read for 30 minutes before homeroom.  Let Adderall, nicotine and coffee begin to speed me up into a frenzy.

7:30 a.m. to 12 p.m.- Go about my day of school in an over-stimulated, over-talkative fit of madness.  Smoke a cigarette in the bathroom in-between every period.  Participate in class and turn in homework at a more consistent rate than ever.

12:30 p.m.- Skip lunch, snort 20 mg. of a crushed up, orange Adderall pill.  Begin speeding.  Depending on sleep and food intake, potentially begin to hallucinate or get delusional.

1 p.m. to 3 p.m.- Finish day of school, speeding out of my mind and making all sorts of new friends.  Some scared of me, some finding me amusing.

3:30 p.m.- Drive home, finish the last of the pack of cigarettes that I had started that day, and open another.

4:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m.- Arrive home, Brew more coffee.  Snort or eat 20 more mg. of Adderall.  Smoke more cigarettes.  Begin to do homework.

9:00 p.m. – 4:00 a.m.- Snort or eat 20 more mg. of Adderall.  Do more homework, reading and studying.  Talk to Jaime at some point on the phone- telling her that I was staying clean, and hearing the same from her.  Do more homework.  Record music.  Write poetry.  Go outside and smoke.  Play music.  Do homework.  Talk out loud to myself while smoking outside in the dark.  Stare at the carpet on my floor and see demons writhing and gnawing at each other’s flesh.  Try to sleep.  No success.  Force myself to eat a couple of pretzels- they taste dry and disgusting.  Do more homework.  Smoke.  Play music.  Think about Jaime.  Try to sleep.  Cook a can of vegetable soup and force myself to eat it.  Speed wears off.  Crash into a deep oblivion.

6 a.m.- Wake up and do the same thing, with potential variances but consistent stimulant intake, again.

I was drinking 2 pots of coffee, smoking 2 packs of cigarettes, and taking between 60 and 100 milligrams of Adderall a day.  I was a speeding frenzy.  I would barely eat one and a half meals a day.  I was six-feet, zero inches tall, and weighed 160 lbs.  After doing this amount of speed for 3 months, I weighed 133 lbs.  My ribs would show through a t-shirt.  I had long hair pulled behind my ears and deep blue, skeleton-esque circles under my eyes.  Yet through all of this, there would be nights when I would literally do between 3 and 10 days of homework for all 7 of my classes in one night.  I had no study halls in school, because all my periods had to be full for me to even consider passing twelfth grade.  I was running myself ragged and crazy, with speed, caffeine and nicotine fueling me all the way.

During this time, I may have slipped up and smoked weed a couple of times.  I would always tell Jaime when it happened, and she would act disappointed.  I never told her about the speed intake, though.

Granted, Adderall was a legal, prescribed drug given to kids with ADHD.  But this stuff was speed- it had meth-amphetamine as its’ active ingredient!  When taken in higher doses, it kept my brain working functionally.  But there would be times that I was so sleep deprived, that I would begin to dream lucidly while awake.  I would look at the chalkboard in the class I was in and see skeletons made of chalk dust begin to swordfight.  One time I was deeply low on food intake and sleep, and tremendously high on Adderall.  I saw a dark purple figure before my eyes every time that I blinked that looked like a cloaked man.  The ghost of Christmas future.  The grim reaper himself- the bringer of death.  I thought that I was going to die of a heart attack and he was going to take me away.

People saw this drug as a help to society.  Most of the kids prescribed to it abused it as much as me, and were just as delusional and messed-up as I was.  When the drug would take a hold of you, it would give you such intense euphoria that chills would run all throughout your body constantly.

The end of high school neared.  My once failing grades were now all C’s, D’s, and even a B.  I was called in once again to Mrs. Romito’s office.

I scurried in to her room in a frenzied state.  My hair in a pony-tail.  My face all flushed from speed and caffeine.  My pupils dilated and eyes wide open.

“Ben…”  Mrs. Romito said.  “You made it.  You graduated.  I knew you could do it.”

Though I was a crazy, frenzied mess.  I had stayed over-stimulated enough to pull my grades together.  I wouldn’t be held back.  I would graduate High School.  Jaime did well at her school in Pennsylvania.  She got A’s and B’s.  She wanted to transfer back to Hudson High School to be with me and her friends.

But were we strong enough to begin a new chapter?  We were still addicts.  When she first arrived home she saw how skinny and dilapidated I was, and I had to admit to my speed abuse.  I would soon after quit taking speed.  But what was the summer to bring us?  We were to be released into the wild world of graduated freedom, crazy kids, smoke filled air, bright sunshine and ponds where people took drugs, drank beer and had sex.  The dark nights ahead were screaming our name as Jesus lingered, hidden behind the clouds as the prodigal son was knowingly about to squander his property in reckless living. (Luke 15:13)  It seems as if He may have known that one day His arms would be open wide, as the sick child returned in unworthy tears and grief.  Only to embrace and hold close to this tattered mess of a person in reckless, forgiving love.