May 4th, 1982

There is a part of the drug experience— especially acid— that is the loss of personality. Words become senseless at this point. The basic concept of time and space become altered— escaped. I remember a moment once, while tripping, when a clock struck me as bizarre and absurd. The normal levels of personality interaction become insane. The very notion of personality— of self— seems insane, evil. I remember that feeling of mescaline moving like a rainbow through my body— the coiled nervousness in my stomach— the ecstatic surge of color through my body. The descent to the cellular level— you lose your self, your “person”-ality— you become a god.

I am thinking of all this tonight because I’ve been feeling extremely high all night. My second day back on Scarsdale. Can dieting cause this? Could chemicals stored in my body tissue be released as I start to burn fat?

I walked to the East Village tonight. The walk over was euphoric. Dusk, and the mighty city framed by a dense blue twilight. The trees thickening with green and blossoming white and full. And everywhere people rushing, surging in a constant tide that is quick and hurried. This commotion of people pulsing like a steady river toward some urgent personal goal— it is what I will always think of when I remember this life. And the city rising grey against a spring twilight.

I went back to the little diner I like so much— lost in time on 2nd Avenue next to the Orpheum. I had a cup of coffee and smoked a cigarette and wondered if the Ukrainian waitress remembered me. I started at my heavy china coffee cup and saucer— scratched china with an intense, vivid rose-colored rim. I felt like I was beginning to trip and could not stop staring at the beautiful rose color. The diner felt three-dimensional and I was aware of great detail.

To be having drug-like experiences completely sober is exciting and somewhat scary. I certainly don’t mind it— but it sure does feel as if I’ve done a couple of hits of speed.

The spiritual aspect of drug use— induced higher levels of consciousness— are the same as those sought by religious mystics through fasting and meditation. That these states exist is beyond doubt. That they share common features— is widely accepted— whether reached through chemical alterations or through physical and spiritual practices. This aspect of loss of personality— loss of self— expansion into something larger is common.

Tonight I walked Don home. Which is the main reason I went to the East Village. I am sexually attracted to him— and the more I see him, the more I feel that emotionally— intellectually— I may be attracted to him. He asked me in— briefly. We chatted about the Village Visiting Neighbors— I’ve just joined and was pleased to find that he’s a member— I admired his cats— I made cat noises and they liked me. Don fidgeted with lights, turning on lamps. And as I stood in the room with him and watched our scene, it was as from a distance. As if I were just beginning to feel the drug. The feeling flooded through me. I only stayed for a few minutes. I left feeling as though some intimacy had occurred.

Tonight the moon, nearly full, is brilliant white burning in a night blue sky.