Man, I come from the days when drugs were drugs. We had dope where one toke would turn your hair long and your folks into raving maniacs at the dinner table. Some of the stuff, why, a single hit could transform a Catholic schoolgirl into Gomorrah on all fours, snuff your ego like a light, rotate the tires on The Great Wheel of Being and make your eyes lay eggs. See God? Shit, you could get him down in the hot tub and wash his mouth out with herbal soap. And that's if you split the blotter paper four ways. As for insights, try yage and psilocybin mushrooms mixed with mescaline and Anchor Steam beer. Gautama Buddha his own bad self comes to your house and writes out the eightfold path in lipstick on your bathroom mirror. We had drugs that would give you immortal life for thirty-six hours. And what about the time the nine-assed Peyote Demon peeled the top of my head like an orange and vomited the Enclopedia Britannica into my empty skull?
That's what we meant by high in the old days.
- william s. burroughs
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