When I pitched this story to NICE, I expected them to say, “No, it isn’t 2008, nobody wants to read about people taking ketamine anymore.”
But to my surprise, they accepted.
The plan is to take a moderate dose of ketamine and write about my experience. I hope to show the world what drugs feel like for the first time since the Beat Poets, back when they all took benzedrine or something.
I’m currently sitting at my desk and I can’t stop staring at the words on my screen. The chair beneath me feels like it might not be a chair. Is it a cloud? Or maybe there is no chair and I’m floating? Like, I see the chair but I don’t know if it’s really there, you know?
I just walked to my kitchen, opened the fridge and stared at the empty space around the bottle of Tabasco sitting empty on the top shelf. I was trying to remember the term for ‘hot sauce’ when I realized I had fallen over and hit my head on the fridge door.
I laid on the floor for a while trying to figure out if that was hard enough to be concussed. My roommate helped me up and told me, “Go the fuck back to your room, you loser. Stop staring at the fridge every time you’re high, it does the thing where it beeps when it’s been open too long and you’re going to make my cheese platter go bad.”
I stood there in the kitchn staring at my rommate for about 20 minutes befor I realized she left. Her aura ws still there in fromt of me the whole time.
after i dragge myself bacj to my desk,, I started to fel like th floor went away, and insted wasd a foam pit. Prety cool. I opened up my wjndow amd the breeze felt like god ws pouringh water on me. I thimk I am the nexzt Jcak Kerouac.☺
This article is part of The Ubyssey’s 2021 spoof issue, NICE Magazine.