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roc_abilly
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Mowl, any thoughts about how Ketamine might have caused Matthew Perry's death?
Matthew Perry: Two doctors among five charged over ketamine-related death | BreakingNews.ie
An investigation into the actor’s death unearthed a ‘broad underground criminal network’, US attorney Martin Estrada said.
www.breakingnews.ie
Recalling that the 60's "neuronauts", researchers like John Lilly, used to take collossal amounts. Lilly even took it through an IV drip to get the maximum amount possible, while he was inside a sensory deprivation tank, towards the development of his "inter-species communication" dolphins project. Its advantage over LSD was that the more you took the higher you got, whereas with LSD there was a limit to how far out you could get.
John C. Lilly: The pioneer of floating
He may have invented the world’s first float tank, but who exactly was John C. Lilly? We explore the life and times of floating’s most important figure…
floatworks.com
My Wild Lunch with John C. Lilly, the Scientist Who Inspired Arrival
Stuart Gordon flashes back to the time he met with the interspecies linguistic researcher to discuss a sequel to Honey, I Shrunk the Kids.
www.talkhouse.com
I can understand someone not properly grounded in the world, whether through science, like Lilly, or through their social relations, having a major psychosis. But ketamine actually killing someone? I suspect there must have been some other drug involved.
Mowl
Member
I've never used Ketamine myself, so I wouldn't know. Last time it was near me was a show out in Maynooth University with Keltic Posse sometime in the nineties (actually Therapy? opened the show that night - Fyffe Ewing burst my bass-drum head, I had to cover the gash with a tin beer tray) and it was a rather odd scenario. The kids weren't drinking very much, there was a bar in the hall but they mostly sat on the floor hugging each other. Later in the evening and towards the end of our set, they were sort of limping around and leaning on each other, and some others were literally crawling on the floor.
I was invited to an after party same night and was offered some pills in someone's rented student house. I refused the pills politely but the girl who invited me took some more. After a while she was gurning so badly I couldn't stop laughing at her facial contortions. She was cute, but not cute enough for me to stick around and end up shagging a jelly-legged part-human part-biological experiment with her eyes rolling around in her head. So I split and put it down to experience.
Here's an odd one: up here, I've asked some local friends/connections if they can get me some things I'd like to try even once before I die. They asked what I wanted. I asked for some clean heroin, clean crack, clean methamphetamine, and modern ecstasy: that they were all passed and clean and safe and that I could experiment here at home in relative safety. They all laughed at me and told me to: 'forget it, and fuck off - there's no fucking way I'm giving you any of these things. And if I hear of anyone else doing it, they're in trouble too'.
Which on the one hand is very reassuring, but on the other I now know that if I wanted to try them anyway, nobody I know will give me any and so I'd have to hit the streets, which only a complete fucking lunatic would do in this town. But I still want to try, just once. I'm confident that the next experience I'll have outside my normal routine is to attend an Ayahaushka ceremony in an old friend's farmhouse out beyond the airport in Dublin. That's next time I'm home, issues of the day permitting. He runs a society of people based on the farm and has a number of things going on that I'll have to see first before I consider my next move.
It's a side of drug-taking/sourcing I never really considered: 'hi, can I get one dose of smack to chase, one dose of meta-amphetamine, one ecstasy pill and some crack, please?'
No - fuck off.
Ahh, go on?
No - scram.
Pleeease?
I said fuck off.
Damn it.
I was invited to an after party same night and was offered some pills in someone's rented student house. I refused the pills politely but the girl who invited me took some more. After a while she was gurning so badly I couldn't stop laughing at her facial contortions. She was cute, but not cute enough for me to stick around and end up shagging a jelly-legged part-human part-biological experiment with her eyes rolling around in her head. So I split and put it down to experience.
Here's an odd one: up here, I've asked some local friends/connections if they can get me some things I'd like to try even once before I die. They asked what I wanted. I asked for some clean heroin, clean crack, clean methamphetamine, and modern ecstasy: that they were all passed and clean and safe and that I could experiment here at home in relative safety. They all laughed at me and told me to: 'forget it, and fuck off - there's no fucking way I'm giving you any of these things. And if I hear of anyone else doing it, they're in trouble too'.
Which on the one hand is very reassuring, but on the other I now know that if I wanted to try them anyway, nobody I know will give me any and so I'd have to hit the streets, which only a complete fucking lunatic would do in this town. But I still want to try, just once. I'm confident that the next experience I'll have outside my normal routine is to attend an Ayahaushka ceremony in an old friend's farmhouse out beyond the airport in Dublin. That's next time I'm home, issues of the day permitting. He runs a society of people based on the farm and has a number of things going on that I'll have to see first before I consider my next move.
It's a side of drug-taking/sourcing I never really considered: 'hi, can I get one dose of smack to chase, one dose of meta-amphetamine, one ecstasy pill and some crack, please?'
No - fuck off.
Ahh, go on?
No - scram.
Pleeease?
I said fuck off.
Damn it.
roc_abilly
Member
I think your Finnish friends are right. I wouldn't feel like tempting fate myself. That said though, the one drug I've very rarely done, loathed because of a number of observations I've made about it, cocaine, I might take up when I'm very old and start to slow down in a way that I can't overcome by regular intense physical exertion. Maybe then the added pep you can get from it will be justified.
I recall in my late teens, a week of using hash that was heavily laced with ketamine which we were smoking through big bongs. That was a very strange week. The high was highly dissociative, long lasting, "outer body". I was looking down on myself and my group of friends from about 12 foot up, and 12 foot to the side, basically for the whole week. It was eerie.
I'm not sure what the attraction is in a club situation. I too saw clubs, in New York, with clubbers on special K as it was called, sitting around on the floor. I couldn't work it out. I suppose it was "different", and I suppose in New York, at that time, there was always that search for something different.
Anyway, that Matthew Perry story is a strange one. It's a strange drug. I think you need to harbour a few strange inclinations in yourself to gravitate to it as a drug of choice. But I don't know how it can kill you. Well I suppose if you take a lot, and go to somewhere you're not able for, your heart might give out with the fright and the stress. Especially for someone of Perry's age, and I think he might have been in poor health.
I recall in my late teens, a week of using hash that was heavily laced with ketamine which we were smoking through big bongs. That was a very strange week. The high was highly dissociative, long lasting, "outer body". I was looking down on myself and my group of friends from about 12 foot up, and 12 foot to the side, basically for the whole week. It was eerie.
I'm not sure what the attraction is in a club situation. I too saw clubs, in New York, with clubbers on special K as it was called, sitting around on the floor. I couldn't work it out. I suppose it was "different", and I suppose in New York, at that time, there was always that search for something different.
Anyway, that Matthew Perry story is a strange one. It's a strange drug. I think you need to harbour a few strange inclinations in yourself to gravitate to it as a drug of choice. But I don't know how it can kill you. Well I suppose if you take a lot, and go to somewhere you're not able for, your heart might give out with the fright and the stress. Especially for someone of Perry's age, and I think he might have been in poor health.
Mowl
Member
It's definitely true that Perry had a long-term drug problem. I recall some time just after his death that he (had) said that he could tell exactly which drug he was on during any episode or season of episodes just by looking at his posture. I find the show trite and shallow, I could never understand people's reactions to it and the fact that it was on multiple channels every day and night for years. Six white kids in New York, token blacks include? Can't recall many. There was a statement made that the series was based on a black/coloured person's show of a similar nature which was ripped off to make the version with white middle-class New Yorkers, but I can't recall the title of the show.
Like the Simpsons, Friends seems to be everywhere all the time, even up here in Finland they still show it most evenings. On the weekends they show multiple shows to fill in hours of viewing at a time. The ladies seem to like it more so than the blokes do: every girl in the world wanted hair like the Rachel actor, along with her tits, legs, make-up, and clothes. The other one, who married an Irish bloke from some Irish band, apparently got loads of surgery done to her face and neck and came out of hospital looking like a highway smash-up between an artic full of raw chicken wings and another artic full of horse fat.
But yeah, the party I went to that night was stranger than the gig was: they all sat on the floor, all the armchairs were empty and gangs of them scattered around, some behind the sofa in their own little microcosm, others on their hands and knees clawing blissfully about. Didn't look like much fun to me. In the early nineties, myself and my two housemates threw parties every weekend for one summer with a limited guest-list and themed events. The first one was a lemon party (not my idea) but my housemate went to the markets and bought up loads of fresh lemons which we scattered all over the place. The smell was delicious. We'd all take a hit of ecstasy at the same time and then party on through the night into the early dawn. Music, yes - but not banging techno, more like laid back hip-hop, dub-step, low tempo drum&bass sort of vibe.
Lovely times, never a bad word or gesture, everyone got to be themselves and do what they liked.
Haven't tried ecstasy since, but would love to have one more dance before I clock off.
I have a tub of mushroom powder in the fridge one of the guys gave me months and months ago, and I haven't gotten around to eating them/making tea.
Just can't seem to find the right moment.
Or maybe it's just me telling me to cop the fuck on - I'm not a teenager anymore.
roc_abilly
Member
'Friends' was horrible. I couldn't believe it became the phenomenon it did. The whole premise was tragic. It was cringeworthy. I was made sit through it a couple of times, and I just had the thought in my head all through it that millions of lonely young Americans watched this show, and lived vicariously through it, imagining the friendships depicted as something to aspire to. It was a kind of satire on American life, the falseness of it, the shallow aspirations, an essentially empty but busy life, an inner neediness, and constant desire for continual affirmation. It spoke to everything that was beginning to go wrong in the world. The deluge of cliches made me feel like vomiting. Maybe no wonder that Perry went the way he did.
roc_abilly
Member
'The Simpsons' was fucking stupid too. I can appreciate it as a fantastic piece of script writing. But it was a bit like that column in the IT, the rugby fellow. It just went on and on when it should have been knocked on the head after a couple of seasons.
Mowl
Member
Wasn't the conclusion death by drowning/misadventure?
Dude went out the same way he lived: pepped up from first thing in the morning - then drinking strong coffee all day with more and more reds to keep him up. Seems the ketamine hit him hard, he passed out in the hot tub, slid down under the surface and wham: life over. Which is hardly surprising: ketamine's also used for tranquilizing horses.
Mowl
Member
Has Jimmy been screaming and balling for another nappy change?
That cheap-assed Dutch Gold lager rots the liver and the bloodstream.
roc_abilly
Member
That Jambo chap is unfortunately a bit of a clown. It doesn't really matter how much rope you give to him, or not give to him, he'll still work out a way to do a Michael Hutchence with it.E Electricity
Off moderation. This time please abide by the new rule concerning all tweets, screenshots, Telegram links etc. being kept in the bellow thread.
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By the way, I saw this clip on Telegram recently and I couldn't help but be reminded of @roc_abilly. It's a clip taken from a rather long stream with The Distributist, Wokal Distance and some moderator. I wouldn't know much about any of them, a little bit about The Distributist, who's not a WN...islepoli.com
roc_abilly
Member
And the brain. If he only had a brain.
roc_abilly
Member
Ah, I see. The old celebrity bathtub claims yet another victim.
D
Deleted member 115
Guest
Jaysus boys must hav shagged five fellas last nite. Dey all took der turn in da jacks.
Me fanny is feelin gr8 now
Me fanny is feelin gr8 now
Mowl
Member
Your son Dave's in a bit of a state.
You might at least call him and check if he's alright - last seen he was pulling rats out of a cloth sack and searching for his Missus.
If he isn't doing too well, try two slabs of cider: when he's napping in the sofa, you climb up a ladder and drop both slabs into his snoring gob and see if he wakes. If he starts bleeding, don't worry - that just shows that he's still alive.
Mowl
Member
The wonderful feminist Nell McCafferty has died aged 80, a great run for a unique woman of substance and acidic retort. My own Mam was on the train back in the early seventies and many of that generation who are still with us will remember a time in Ireland when the church ran the show. Not on Nell's ground, mind you. She took no prisoners, she took no shit, and when she aimed and fired - she hit the target. Usually it wasn't the target you thought was the target. No, quite often she hit the hidden target, and in doing so put a rat up the ass of everyone she was trying to educate.
I can barely remember meeting her once at least with my Mam, who was a stage actress in her earlier days. Nell was at the pre-production show in the old Player's building along the SCR and she and my Mam, along with a Labour Party candidate from Ballyer and close friend of my Mam, Mrs Anne McStay: mother to thirteen children in a two bed house sat for tea and talked about women's rights of the day. All I remember is this big strong and loud woman with a vaguely musty scent off her. She had a wicked grin that she wore when tearing people a new arse and them not knowing anything about it until they'd already been taken for a ride. One of a kind for sure. I've a copy here of her collected short stories 'The Best Of Nell' with an introduction from Eavan Boland. Like another great Irish journalist and author, Gene Kerrigan of the Independent, she could load every sentence with buckshot and still hit every target without wasting even one pellet. Caustic, acidic at times, yet so tender and caring and loving for Irish women and their children under the Roman Catholic Church. Nell, my Mam, and many other concerned Irish ladies set to tearing down the edifice of the church state, and it was their generation who caused the cracks to form. It was our generation who were expected to hammer home the final blows.
That was the train that set in motion my own experiences of seeing the church/state for what it was, and the various orders too. Fr Anthony Walsh was still doing his worst when I gave evidence about what I'd seen in my school and in my area. My Dad courted me through all of it and my Mam was there when the day was done. The years passed, Walsh went down for twenty-odd years and I later left Ireland because Ireland doesn't forgive - especially not when your shot hits the target. Many Irish children know already that there's no place for us, that if we stay after taking a shot and hitting the target, then the friends of the friends of the accused will hold a grudge until the day they die. I knew that before I was out of my teens, there's neither forgiveness nor forgetting. These institutions have long histories, much power and influence, wealth, determination, and evil in their ranks.
Sleep well, Nell.
RIP
I can barely remember meeting her once at least with my Mam, who was a stage actress in her earlier days. Nell was at the pre-production show in the old Player's building along the SCR and she and my Mam, along with a Labour Party candidate from Ballyer and close friend of my Mam, Mrs Anne McStay: mother to thirteen children in a two bed house sat for tea and talked about women's rights of the day. All I remember is this big strong and loud woman with a vaguely musty scent off her. She had a wicked grin that she wore when tearing people a new arse and them not knowing anything about it until they'd already been taken for a ride. One of a kind for sure. I've a copy here of her collected short stories 'The Best Of Nell' with an introduction from Eavan Boland. Like another great Irish journalist and author, Gene Kerrigan of the Independent, she could load every sentence with buckshot and still hit every target without wasting even one pellet. Caustic, acidic at times, yet so tender and caring and loving for Irish women and their children under the Roman Catholic Church. Nell, my Mam, and many other concerned Irish ladies set to tearing down the edifice of the church state, and it was their generation who caused the cracks to form. It was our generation who were expected to hammer home the final blows.
That was the train that set in motion my own experiences of seeing the church/state for what it was, and the various orders too. Fr Anthony Walsh was still doing his worst when I gave evidence about what I'd seen in my school and in my area. My Dad courted me through all of it and my Mam was there when the day was done. The years passed, Walsh went down for twenty-odd years and I later left Ireland because Ireland doesn't forgive - especially not when your shot hits the target. Many Irish children know already that there's no place for us, that if we stay after taking a shot and hitting the target, then the friends of the friends of the accused will hold a grudge until the day they die. I knew that before I was out of my teens, there's neither forgiveness nor forgetting. These institutions have long histories, much power and influence, wealth, determination, and evil in their ranks.
Sleep well, Nell.
RIP
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roc_abilly
Member
Seconded, Mowl. R.I.P.
Recalling a touching little piece of writing of hers:
"... God send John a job; God send Jackie and Rosaleen a house; Holy Mother of God look down on Peggy in America and Leo in England; Jesus and His Blessed Mother protect Mary that's going out with a sailor...".
Well, things haven't changed that much.
Recalling a touching little piece of writing of hers:
"... God send John a job; God send Jackie and Rosaleen a house; Holy Mother of God look down on Peggy in America and Leo in England; Jesus and His Blessed Mother protect Mary that's going out with a sailor...".
Well, things haven't changed that much.
roc_abilly
Member
Oh no, how long was he left to binge watch Morboing, Doods and Nugget with no other outlet?