THE CHANGE OVER
My new Life 1997. Part 1
I am now going to document the most brutal year of my existence in one multi-part story.
It’s the tale of when I decided to leave behind the free-wheeling life of hedonism, drugs, sloth and mysticism.
And get off the drugs, get a haircut, get a job, and re-enter Earth’s orbit.
Since that decision there have been many days where I wistfully wished for my former bean bag and bong life…. but I never went back…
I went from strength to strength…
From strength to strength I went from and too…
This is that story.
I will set the scene on how bad shit had gotten… you have a bit of an idea if you have been tracking through the other stories…
Im 20. It’s Dec 1997 and I’m in a hut-like house up in the cloudy ranges of East Coromandel New Zealand.
Im chain blazing bush-grown weed on a sagging couch with the old( 45 ) weed-growing mystic who was my mentor.
I had fully gone to rot. My hair was just one dreaded beaver tail, my memory was shot, my lungs black, and my grip on reality was gone. I wore no shoes and just had black hobbit feet. As I have mentioned in other stories, the cause of the mental shattering being, an ounce or two of grass a week, hundreds of doses of LSD, magic mushrooms, poison toadstools, speed, opium, amyl nitrate, nutmeg, morning glory seeds, datura, mescaline, wine, and hard booze.
Never beer! Beer was the drink of the MAN!
My survival system was that the energy from the earth flowed up through my bare feet, into my body, through the chakras and out through the crown chakra, then back through the beaver tail deadlock and down to the earth and then up and around me in a cycle, forming a powerful energy shield round me that kept all the evil out.
A great system. The best system.
My mentor was a wise old (45) hippie and he was currently listening to me lamenting the crossroads I was at.
For the last two years, I had a girlfriend whose parents were rich and had houses about the country. Our survival system live in these houses rent-free while leaving them only to travel about the country going to raves. Income was created by selling this old Hippies weed, supplemented with the odd scam.
I had the rave network for the product.
It was a life but not one that wound up in sanity or health… as you can imagine.
My mental state was: vegan, druggie yoga psycho with a twist of grunge.
My crossroads was that the Girlfriend’s parents had put their foot down, and were pushing her to get a job and re-enter society.
They were becoming more concerned for us as we became more deranged and incoherent… but they were super liberal permissive types… so we pushed it as far as we could … which was two years, culminating in an episode of giggling insanity at an important family dinner followed by loud baked and drunk sex in the lounge which the little sister walked in on and watched for some time before bursting into loud screaming hysterics.
So … the girlfriend had a serious meeting with the parents the next day, which I was not part of.
This harsh parent meeting precipitated in her, a mental crisis and she started talking nonsense like going back to art school and living in the city. She gave me a rehearsed dream sell speech. I was encouraged to get a haircut and a job and clean up. Ease the throttle of the drugs back to very occasional, and live in the city where we would live with her parents until moving out and getting a place together…
I knew where that leads: Wearing shoes, A job, wine bars, bank accounts, taxes, going to dinner parties, eating meat, and getting on the hamster wheel.
Just a rat in a cage. A brick in the wall. A pasty of the Man.
Death would have been preferable.
Crisis point for me. What to do? I didn’t want to change my lifestyle, but it looked like the end of the line for her and I.
The old hippie commiserated with me and my plight.
I was not at all a wearing shoes, job, wine bars, bank accounts, taxes, going to dinner parties, eating meat, and getting on the hamster wheel type of guy.
I was a: meditate in the weed crops in the woods, on mescaline, while covered in mud, crystals, and dream catchers and wait for the Aliens to land type of guy.
He offered an alternative to selling out and cleaning up… “DONT DO IT MAN!”
Instead, he offered: Can the girl, move into a Teepee on his property, take on his daughter as a partner, buy a motorbike, and do midnight weed runs to the city while living with them in the off-grid survival base helping him tend the farm.
His back had started to give in, and he couldn’t bring the weed down from the high hills anymore… he couldnt grow as much food as he wanted and I was young and strong.
We hole up here, put on parties, blaze, do yoga, and rock back and forward in our rocking chairs at night…waiting for the end as predicted by the Mayans ( 2012).
Living our life according to the teaching of our dog-eared Celestine Prophecy paperbacks and supplemented by what the mushroom elves tell us.
And so it was that I put together a pound of weed into a backpack with my minimalist gear, and headed back to the big city to drop the bomb on the girlfriend.
I was going to move up into the bush.
Live in the teepee with the old hippie’s daughter, and have a good 14 years before the end of the world.
Tune in for part 2. :)
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Should have become a logger and drank Waikato!
Ah nothing like the 45 Y/O hippie working his daughter into a schmick deal to "sell the dream". What a package, he really knew how to sell it to you man!! OMG that's hilarious.