Do not look upon this world with fear and loathing. Bravely face whatever the gods offer.
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lightheaded; maybe you should drive...." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car, which was going about a hundred miles an hour with the top down to Las Vegas.
He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.
Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!
We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high powered blotter acid, a salt shaker half full of cocaine, and a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers... and also a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of Budweiser, a pint of raw ether and two dozen amyls. Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious drug collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.
People don't know where to place me. Terry Gilliam used me as a quirky cop in 'Twelve Monkeys', and then he hired me again to be an effeminate hotel clerk in 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas'. Another time, I was shooting this indie film 'The Souler Opposite' and six days a week, I'm playing this big puppy dog, then I come to the 'NYPD Blue' set and become this scumbag.
No, this is not a good town for psychedelic drugs. Reality itself is too twisted.
All energy flows according to the whims of the great Magnet. What a fool I was to defy him.
We can't stop here, this is bat country!
I'm a relatively respectable citizen. Multiple felon perhaps, but certainly not dangerous.
The Edge... there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.
America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.
We were somewhere around Barstow, on the edge of the desert, when the drugs began to take hold.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.
No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride...and if it occasionally gets a little heavier than what you had in mind, well...maybe chalk it off to forced conscious expansion: Tune in, freak out, get beaten.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.
To the pessimist the light at the end of the tunnel is another train.
Never create anything, it will be misinterpreted, it will chain you and follow you for the rest of your life.
In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.
There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge.
Weird heroes and mould-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of 'the rat race' is not yet final.
The possibility of physical and mental collapse is very real now... but collapse is out of the question; as a solution or even a cheap alternative, it is unacceptable. No sympathy for the devil; keep that in mind.
You can turn your back on a person, but never turn your back on a drug, especially when its waving a razor sharp hunting knife in your eye.
Buy the ticket, take the ride.
The only thing that really worried me was the ether. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of an ether binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon. Probably at the next gas station.
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