on this past weekend i talked with a family member who’d passed out during mass last weekend.
when i was about 10 years old, i puked on the altar during mass. i was the altar boy, serving mass as it’s known in catholic circles. there is not much else to this story. don’t know why i was sick. but i PUKED, ON, The Altar.
a harder to believe story is the time i took mescaline and went to mass. there isn’t a lot to this story either. i was about 14 years old and my parents wanted to enforce church attendance on me. so i went on saturday nights, the shortest mass available. i happened to have some mescaline and dropped it on the way into the mass. less than 40 mins later i was free to start my saturday night, which i did.
i don’t remember much of this particular episode. it was soup du jour of the time.
i become more and more fascinated with my adolescent antics as i grow older. i want to make clear that i don’t think i was a particularly hard case. it was what everybody i knew was doing. a guy i was good friends with at the time dropped acid on christmas day. he invited some friends to his house on jesus’ birthday (that’s what he called it) and they stayed down in the basement in the afternoon, and tripped their nuts off. they were about 15-17 years old at the time.
#religion
Please
Those are good memories.. I have none from my church going years which were more like church going days.
I only went a few times and I'm surprised that particular faith didn't just kill all the childrens. They were "probably going to hell anyway."
One of my teenage memories came to mind (don't ask why) while reading yours.
I was probably 19, drunk by 1pm or so and walked from the apartment I was staying at to Ottumwa's downtown Newsland. Got an alternative rock magazine of some kind, stopped by the gas station on the way back and picked up a box of diet pills.
After I got back to the apartment, I ate about 5 of the diet pills and drank the remaining quarter of the gut-rot vodka. I started speeding heavy because of the pills but couldn't stand up because of the alcohol.
And then my stomach ballooned to the size of a stuffed whale. The rest of the day (and well into the night) I laid on my bed/the couch in drunken agony.
That is all, no moral to the story or triumphant ending.
i saw the perks of being a wallflower and i am praying to jesus that i will someday not so closely identify with these freeks and geeks in this teenaged soap opera's. i'm 52 and i'm feelin' every word of kris kristofferson's sunday morning comin' down.
i read every book on Charlie's Wallflowers' list and they still speak to me more than SERIOUS WRITERS work. have the sex that will mean something to you a few weeks later. read the books that you'll remember a few years later, and gasp!, be proud that you read those books.