From the most awesome

:

“We all take speed and we’re all going to die, but we have a few more years and we will be happy. We don’t want to live more than a few more years, and while we live it will live it as we are: stupid, blind, loving, talking, being together, kidding, propping one another up and ratifying the good things in one another. No group of people can be this happy. We knew we were ignoring some fundamental aspect of reality, such as for example money, or in my case sleep. Soon it will catch up with us. That’s all one can really hope for, I think, to be happy awhile and remember it.”
-Philip K Dick.

So now that those years are over, and we’re inexplicably still alive, whatever we may or may not still consume … well?

Was it worth it? Do you miss it? Would you do it again? Are you still doing it? Tell me about that.

It was worth it.Every crazy, speed-, ecstasy- and acid-filled second of it. I lived in a large rambly house with two of my lovers and an ex-lover and her *current* lover and we mostly got on wonderfully. Next door was a house full of fellow geek-artist-philosophers and we ripped down the backyard fence so we could share gardens. Fiona grew eggplants and we grew herbs and capsicums. My best friend lived down the laneway in another house filled with more philosophers and linguists and it was a short walk to STUCCO, the amazing Sydney Uni co-op filled with flowers and artists.

On the weekends, we played Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay in one house or the other and sometimes we just turned out all the lights and tripped out staring into the candles while the Shamen blared weirdly in the background. Other times, we had amazing conversations about everything under the sun because we were bright and we were learning and we were excited about knowledge at 3 in the morning, fuelled by intensity and love and drugs. There seemed to be parties every other week and in my memory, there was this time before it all went to hell that it was perfect.

It’s all merged together, all these moments of good times. The parade of extra housemates merges a little too: Kahren, the ex, and Greta and Hellen, who’s now at New Matilda, and Rachel of the floor-length purple and black extensions who shaved her head and went raver on us.

I’d absolutely do it again, but those people are scattered all over the place and I don’t think it works that way any more. David and Phil are both in monogamous relationships now; Justine isn’t, but she’s in Germany; Christina, who used to pop up from Melbourne, is now in Holland; Fiona, it turned out, loathed me; Rodger and I have a strained relationship now, because of something I said once in a fit of pique and bitterness; his old housemate David is married to my ex-girlfriend Ruth (not the same ex) and they’ve just had their second child. Robyn married Phil’s linguistics classmate and they’ve just had *their* second child. Not that Robyn or Matthew ever got into the madness anyway, except for that one time when Matthew was furious because no one told him the chocolate cake was spiked.

And no, I’m not still doing it. I gave up those things years ago, which isn’t to say I don’t have cravings from time to time. My memory, though, is testament to the damages done, and I also remember the bad times, the drama and the intensity.

But I’d do it again. Oh, yeah, I’d do it again.