house of uncommons

first time

I've lived in Hanoi for about seven or months of intermittent stay for some work. During my first two months, I met three Canadian guys whom I really enjoyed being with. Get a piece of yourself before reading this entry. I've always got tempted to put this entry into my blogs, but something told me not too... not just yet.

But here I am, trying to explain everythign why I hadn't published it before; now, after almost a year of its hibernation in my portable drive, I have found the courage to let everyone have a glimpse of my first time of actually smoking hash (a kind of marijuana-like dried leaves, famous to Caucasian tourists in Asia and Middle East).

This is a true account of my Vietnam life.



February 15, 2005

First time

It was my first time to actually hangout with real English-speaking guys and actually play with them. We dined together, drank together, watched HBO movies together, laughed together, and, for the first time in my life, weeded with them.

I though I was going to die last night. At first, it was just like rolling at the top of a hill with your grade school classmates. But when Rich asked me how I was doing after a few puffs, God, I did not know what to say and feel. My body felt like it wanted to dance or just sway. I felt like I was standing in the middle of the sea, feeling the waves beneath me, but I do not sink. Rich was standing by my back to catch me if ever I fall down. But I guess, I managed to get on with my knees, although they are trembling and swaying.

Then, I heard Tom and Michael speaking in hushed but rigid tones—they were talking about life… I mean, who talks about life in the middle of the night after weeding? Who else, but those who are really smashed by the weed to the head. They asked me how I was feeling. I said, I do not like what I feel.

But I hurried up to my room, they let me write my name, mobile number and email address on a piece of paper. Man, I don’t know if that was readable. Inside my room, yeah, I know I drank a lot of warm sake and 2 bottles of Carlsberg, but this smash was really strong! It was the weed, taking its shot right from my head to my knees, to my stomach and out my mouth. It was a weird feeling.

I thought I was going to die. I felt paralyzed by a big Portuguese Man-O-War who made its way from my nostrils, went straight up my stomach then shot its neurotoxins up my sleepy brain. I really thought it was the end of it. Of course, I was thinking the other way, just to balance my thoughts. I don’t want to die by a weed shot. I was vomiting. My stomach really felt sore when I tried to stop it. But I can’t puke a single anymore. My stomach was well empty and shit-and-pissed.

I woke up past 5 am, with my arms out of the bed’s bounds. It felt cold. It felt like it was drained of blood for 5 hours that I have slept.

I had bombarding amounts of dreams last night. First, it was like showing me all the past lives that I have lived (I was just thinking about it, nothing serious—I was weeded, right!), then those things that made me insane all these past few years of my life.

I don’t know. Really this first time was something.

posted by kurama minamino @ 5:03 PM