A little ‘trip’ down memory lane today. The following is an extract from the new book I’m working on at the moment about how to achieve happiness.
In the incident I describe I’m certainly not happy . . . but it was one of the stranger occurrences of my younger, more dissolute life, in my party years!
Let me know what you think.
There was this one time I became Jesus. I don’t mean like I was walking down the street, thinking ‘hey, I’m Jesus!’ I mean that in my head I actually became Jesus, just for a little while.
It was in Manchester, in the North of England, where I’d been living for a while. It was a rough town. At the time they used to call it ‘Gunchester’, so that gives you a pretty good idea.
Every Saturday night / Sunday morning I used to go to this party called Danceteria. It was held at a beat-up venue, an old pub that was literally built into the bus garage.
The party started at about 4am. It attracted the most deviant crowd you can picture: drug addicts, hookers, gangsters, drag queens, party girls, criminals and strippers.
It was my kind of place.
The music they played was hard techno, so no-one was sober. In fact it was a kind of interactive video-game where you had to guess what kind of mind-rotting drug the person next to you was on.
That was fun.
One night I took a couple of tabs of LSD on top of my normal cocktail of MDMA and amphetamines. It was a pretty wild night. I don’t remember anything about it. Obviously.
Sorry for the unreliable narrator schtick but I was off the planet as you can imagine. But I do recall what happened afterwards.
The club kicked out at about 12 noon (it would then reopen again late on Sunday afternoon) and I went back to a friend’s place for a chillout party. We got there first, and as I was waiting for him to get changed I put the TV on.The British religious show Songs of Praise was on (basically a church service filmed for telly every week). As the choir sang and the music swelled I looked down at my hands. There was blood coming out of my palms.
Shocked, I stared, widening my blurry eyes. Surely there was some mistake. But no. Now I could see the wounds more clearly. I could see the dark residue of rust around the soft, bloody centres, where the iron nails had penetrated my skin, flesh and bone. I could see the thick blood oozing slowly from those craters, thick and brilliant like gelatine.
I had become Jesus.
I was fucking insane.
I crawled home later that night and managed to sleep it off.
The next day when I woke up the stigmata had gone and I wasn’t Jesus any more. It was one of the worst comedowns of my life.
******
By the way, a reminder that my brand new book about strippers and strip club game is out now! And it hit number one in the Sacred Sexuality chart on Amazon earlier! Click here now to get it for the special introductory price of 0.99
