Juan G. Escobar
“In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey.”
We are at Dave’s house, somewhere in the middle of late 70s southern California suburbia, when the drugs begin to take hold. I hear zzzzzshshsh, echoing waves of an almost indiscernible, vaguely insectoid buzzing sound, getting louder, crescendoing, fading out, then coming back a few seconds, minutes, hours, days, eons later. My mouth tastes like I’ve been sucking on a handful of loose change. “What the fuck is going on?” “Where are all the pretty colors and dancing elves?” “Oh shit.” “Fuck, I gotta get outta here, man!”
I had scored a hit of acid at lunch from Benny; a tab of “White Lightning”, five bucks. Cool. I eat it and proceed to walk of campus.
I blame disco. I used to love to go to school dances when I was in junior high. They would play rock music, like T.… Read the rest