Category Archives: Barbiturates

Germs, The Other Newest One

I feel your body’s close to mine
I hear your breath and mine in time
I know I’m nothing but it’s you that I need
I touch your skin and it starts to feed

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash

My eyes meet yours in secret glance
Our bodies locked in ancient stance
You whisper something and I know it’s good
You’re acting crazy just like I knew you would

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash

Embracing my life between your thighs
We will perform in the deadly skies
Reducing my mind to endless nights
You send my dreams to their demise
Realized by your last breath …

I take your hair in to my hands
I pull it tight to fit your demands
Feel my body into yours
I Know it’s right cause that’s my soul you stir

You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another crash
You’re not the first you’re not the last
Another day another CATCH

In case you are wondering, this is about a homosexual love affair Darby had with another boy at the Hollywood Arts Free School he went to. But no matter. Naked Lunch is a great book, and Death in Venice will never be matched. Art does not abide our petty preferences. This higher calling is meant to transcend your petty prejudices. Art’s not about right and wrong. It’s about beauty, even when it’s ugly as sin.

God, I love this music. Very, very hardcore punk rock from the bowels of Los Angeles late 70’s to 1980. It’s so vicious it’s almost evil, but that’s why it’s great. Anyway I’m a bit of a Germ myself, infecting the bowels of this decaying nation.

I’m certainly contagious, good and bad. Just ask some of my exes.

No wait.

I saw these Germs maniacs in concert once at the Hong Kong Cafe. We got there and there were these angry punkers throwing bottles against the outside of the building. They glared at us, and we looked at them like, Hey not us, guys. We got inside, and we knew some of the local maniacs in there.

Diane Chin of the Alleycats was there. She really liked me one night, but she gave me 10 seconds to make a move. I didn’t do it, so she treated me like dog crap under her shoe for the rest of the night. I looked up at her wailing away on the stage. She seemed to be glaring at me. Apparently I just failed Shit Test 1, and there wasn’t going to be another.

Some of these psychobitches give you one damn chance. You need to move on them very aggressively in 10 seconds or so. You need to walk right up to her, put your arm around her, and drag her  off with that look in your eyes that says you know you’re going to do this baby, no one can turn me down. Of course that violates #metoo 101. You just committed sexual assault, sexual harassment, and sexual misconduct, and if you play your cards very carefully, you commit rape later on that night if she’s willing.

These psychobitches actually want to be more or less raped by a brutish man. They want you to walk up to them, grab them, and start kissing them like they can’t say no. They want to be dragged off by their hair like the cavemen did. They want to be told what to do and ordered around. They want the confidence of Superman and the brooding danger of Marlon Brando. If you can’t measure up, you’re a pussy, and she wants to kill you.

She wore all leather, but that doesn’t mean much. Most punker chicks were submissives deep down inside, like all normal women.

Anyway there she was.

My friend points to her and says, “See that chick there? Diane Chai of the Alleycats?”


“She’s nuts!”

I look over at her.

“Yes, I can see that.”

“When she does her slamdancing thing…”


“That chick! She…actually…breaks…tables!” His eyes are falling out of his head.

Well I knew she was a psychobitch, and now that was confirmed. I made a mental note not to impersonate any tables that night.

My friend’s sister was there along with her best friend, a perpetually scowling punker chick with leather and frizzy hair. You would think she was a dyke looking at her, but no way. She softened up and went submissive if I tried to talk to her. That means, “I like cock.” Dykes don’t to that. Dykes send in reinforcements when you try to talk to them, unless you’re gay, in which case they might like you and treat you like their little boy pet.

I went to the bathroom. There was the great Darby Crash, lead singer of the Germs! Famous! Sort of. A complete maniac! No really, read a biography. He’s all dressed in leather like a street tough. He’s got this sneering snarl that’s rather appealing if you’re a mountain lion. I’m washing up. He sees me and smiles/sneers whatever. It’s not exactly unfriendly. He’s just saying Fuck the World, and he hopes you agree. He looks like he’s  going to bust out laughing. His life was a bad joke, so he probably should have.

“Got any Tuuuuuuuuuinalssss?” He asks me with the not unfriendly James Dean sneer, a smiling laugh waiting to bust out and blow up the room.

His voice is is faggier than the Castro. He’s making limp wrist gestures. This dangerous maniac is actually a flaming faggot! What the Hell, man? The leather, the homicidal look, the deranged masculinity of a caged animal, and wrap it up with a mincing queen. It’s not even a product. It’s an April Fools Joke. Nothing about it even makes sense.

He’s asking me for Tuinols. Those are downers, barbiturates. Also called Blues. Popular back then.

Take one, and it’s like drinking a six pack.

Drink on them and you might die. Get behind a wheel, and all bets are off.

Give one to a chick, and she’ll turn into a half-conscious slavering nympho who won’t remember a thing in the morning. These pills do have their uses, you know? Girls liked to take them so they could have slutty irresponsible sex with the excuse that they were too wasted to be responsible, with the added benefit of being amnestic the next morning. Who knows what the truth is?

The thing is probably just a confession booth in a capsule. “I now absolve you of all responsiblity!” A blue excuse.

Well, I dealt drugs of course. I did for many years. And never got caught. Neener neener cops. I never sold pills though. Those are dirty and ugly. Sell them to some idiot, and he crashes into a bicyclist at night. You’re on the hook for felony murder and a guilty conscience til death no bottle can wash away.

“Nope, sorry,” I said. “Tuinal cigarettes. All I have are Tuinol cigarettes.” Well there’s no such thing. That’s an assholey thing to say, but then, Darby was an asshole, so it was probably appropriate.

“Tuinol cigarettes!?” he scoffs, realizing it’s a stupid joke. Part of him wants to hit me, and the other part wants to bust out laughing.

He starts sneering, and bursting out laughing in outrage, snarling out the door holding back the laughter.

I decided that I sort of like the guy, and now I just met a famous and very dangerous punk rock musician.

We go back to the club and buy Heinekens. My friend’s sister goes submissive, crumbles when I say hi. All the evil in her wrings out like a sponge. Now she’s a ragdoll, waiting to be taken. I get it. She wants to be raped too. All these scary punker bitches do. They’re all little girls at the end of the day.

Rape!? Well. Consensual rape. Let’s put it that way. You know, the way most mammals do it?

All you have to go is grab her like a maniac. And no, you don’t ask permission, you #metoo boneheads. Asking permission is pussy. It’s fail. A man doesn’t ask permission for anything. He takes what he wants, caveman-style.

I’m too chicken, so it’s a fail. Been listening to too many feminists. The only way to seduce her would be very roughly anyway, and that violates sexual misconduct, sexual harassment, and assault right there, with (consensual) rape later on if you get lucky. I’ve turned pussy. It’s all the fault of feminists and paying too much attention to my mother. About certain things, a man should never really listen to his mother. Listen to his father? Maybe.

The first show is Joanna Went. Apparently she’s actively psychotic or something. Her act is some sort of a schizophrenic breakdown on stage. I’m wondering if she’s really crazy or just a maniac like all the rest of these animals.

“Catatooooonic!…………Schizophreeeeenic!……..” She wails at no one and nothing. Her eyes look crazed. She’s got football player shoulder pads on like a circus freak. On a chick with pink hair. Well. That’s weird. Partway in, she starts ripping at the pads. The pads come open. They’re filled with shredded cheddar cheese! That makes perfect sense!

She’s grabbing handfuls of the cheese and throwing it out into the audience, wailing like a crazy woman the whole time. The maniacs in the audience are picking up handfuls of cheese and throwing it everywhere. Pretty soon the whole audience is caught in an actual blizzard of cheese. Like zero visibility. We are all covered with cheese. We’re pissed off, so we reach down and grab handfuls of cheese and start throwing them at Joanna. Hard. As hard as possible. That bitch. She threw cheese at us! For some reason, she likes this and smiles. She wants you to hate her. She’s trying to piss you off. It’s Duchamp and Man Ray, half a century too late. Dada, get it?

This nonsense is called Performance Art. I am not sure what the artistic statement is. Apparently that she’s crazy, we’re all crazy, and the rest of the world is nuts too. I think she could have said that without creating cheese blizzard, but it’s ok. Now I have another cool story to brag about.

The Germs come out.

There’s an air of menace in the club. It’s scary, you might get hurt. But that’s exhilarating too. Like war. The rush of impending potential violence. You’re on edge, but you’ve never been so excited.

The drummer is Don Bolles. He looks like a maniac.

The guitarist is Pat Smear. He looks like he’s criminally insane.

The bass player is this hot blond reform school runaway chick. She looks dangerous too.

Hell, they’re all dangerous. So’s the audience. That’s the general idea here. After a while, the dangerousness infects you, and you start getting antisocial yourself. I’m starting to feel pissed off. I guess that was the plan.

The band careens off into their set. This is some of the most terrifying music I’ve heard. Pure savage wailing raw animal menace. Perfect for a predatory animals like us. Apex predators. We forget that too often. We can kill everything else.

I’ve got nothing to be mad about, but I hate the world anyway. I’m not sure what the problem is, or if it’s even a problem. I want to hate the world, so maybe it’s adaptive. But why? I’m probably just not getting laid enough. But even if I was getting laid, I’d still be pissed off. I was 23 years old.

And now I’m gonna be 22!
I said a…Hey hey!
And a boo hoo!

– Iggy Pop and the Stooges, 1970


Speed jive

Don’t want to stay alive
When you’re 25

– Mott the Hoople, All the Young Dudes, 1972

You get the picture. Young men don’t need a reason to be angry.

Look back in anger.

What are you rebelling against?…What do you got?

Who knows what causes this aimless and meaningless anger of young men? It’s probably all down to testosterone poisoning.

The set’s halfway over.

Darby Crash has that same wild sneer and the 5150 look. He looks like he needs to be Baker Acted, and soon. He’s crouched down on the stage like a wild animal. Like a tiger. Or lion. Same man-eating look.

Everybody is starting to hate him. That’s the idea. Why? He’s an asshole! Just look at him! He wants you to hate him, get it? It’s not even serious. It’s a band of provocateurs.

People are throwing stuff at the stage, mostly at Darby because he deserves it most. The more people throw stuff, the more he smiles, crouches lower and screams like a man-eating feline. I’m starting to hate him. He’s really pissing me off.

We have cokes full of ice. There’s only ice left. I am grabbing handfuls of crushed ice and throwing it this freak on stage. Hard! Try to him! Hit him!

But why?

Because he’s an asshole! Just look at him.

The more ice that gets thrown at him, the more he smiles. It’s all a bit sado-masochistic. But as long as I’m dom, it’s all good.

The show crashes on until it ends, a freeway pileup in the fog on a sound stage.

We stumble out of the building.

It’s New Years Eve, 1979. Tomorrow will be a whole new decade.

The 70’s are over. Bye bye Hotel California. Bye bye paradise. Call someplace paradise, kiss it goodbye.

Hello Germs. Hello Hell. Hello Other Newest One.

It’s the end, the end of the 70’s! It’s the end, the end of the century!

We lurch out of the building and into an alleyway. A crazed, drunken man stumbles into our path. He can’t even walk. He careens nearly into us and crashes to the ground. He picks himself up and looks back at us wildly. We stop. He has granny glasses. He fell on his face, and one lens is smashed. There’s blood all over his eye. It’s Clockwork Orange and Night of the Living Dead combined. Pure horrorshow, droogies.

Maybe he’s gone blind. Who knows?

It’s horrible. There’s blood pouring out of his eye socket. He puts one hand up to his bleeding eye and lurches off ahead of, fertilizing the dawn of the new decade crimson red in his path.

It’s a whole new decade. Things are getting scary. Reagan just won. Nothing makes sense. Everyone’s pissed off and, no one knows why. A new decade looms ahead, glowing ominously with pregnant danger.

We shake our heads at the horror and the spectacle.

A whole new decade has come crashing in filth and fury. We drive home in near silence on the freeway. After all we saw, there’s no words to add. The words are sucked out of us for a good hour. We still don’t quite believe it happened, and we are trying to take it all in.

And that was the night I saw the Germs.


Filed under Art, Barbiturates, Depressants, Feminism, Gender Studies, Heterosexuality, Homosexuality, Intoxicants, Man World, Music, Punk, Rock, Sex, Women

Cannabis and Brain Damage: Cannabis Compared to Other Drugs

The original post in its native form was far too long, so I broke it up into seven different posts, in addition to this post. The separate sections are listed below.

The original post, what is left of it, is here.

For an examination of the evidence of whether or not cannabis causes actual structural damage to brain cells, axons or dendrites, see here.

For an analysis of neuropsychological batteries of cannabis users to determine whether or not they suffer brain damage, see here.

For an analysis of EEG testing of cannabis users to discover evidence of brain damage, see here.

For an analysis of studies looking at cerebral blood flow in cannabis users, see here.

For an admittedly impressionistic analysis of whether or not cannabis causes schizotypal symptoms in users, see here.

For a summary of the findings of cannabis and brain damage, see here.

LSD and psilocybin, while not causing permanent brain damage (that we know of so far), can cause HPPD (Hallucinogen Persisting Perception Disorder), a long-term perceptual disturbance of unknown etiology.

I have HPPD myself from using hallucinogens about 40 times, but “suffering” from HPPD once again is an interesting concept, at least in my case.

All I get are brighter colors, mostly in neon signs and store displays, and only at certain times. Maybe lots of people would love to have this effect, as the world looks so much better this way. I called up an ophthalmologist about it and he laughed me off the phone, saying he doesn’t treat people whose colors improve. It is only my continuing neurosis that causes me to view these changes as frightening instead of integrating them.

LSD does have a deleterious effect on the visual system of the brain – it is hypotoxic to that area in lab animals, for instance, birds – but it doesn’t cause any generalized brain damage at all that we know of, and we have been studying LSD’s effects on the brain for about 50 years or so now.

LSD does cause reductions in 5-HT2 receptors on serotonin neurons. But this is a case of these receptors retreating back into the cell due to LSD’s assault on those receptors. After about a week, the receptors to poke back out of the cell again.

The most recent evidence also indicates that psilocybin (mushrooms) and mescaline (peyote) also do not cause any generalized brain damage, although psilocybin can cause HPPD. Due to the risks of HPPD, this blog unfortunately does not recommend that anyone use LSD or psilocybin even one time, unless maybe if you are dying.

Ecstasy (MDMA) produces comparatively dramatic harm to the brain after only a handful of doses (2-10 doses), with the effects increasing with continued use. The drug causes degeneration of serotonergic axonal terminals, which afterwards do not grow back correctly, if at all.

There are suggestions that there may be hippocampal damage. On intelligence tests there are deficits in working memory, declining vocabulary, impairments in verbal learning, associative learning and attention and increased distraction. There also seem to be some mood changes.

Perfusion deficits and increased delta waves on EEG have also been found, but the same study did not find these in cannabis users. Impairments were also found in the ability to drive a car in Ecstasy users, even after they were abstinent.

However, a recent study found no persistent effects from one dose of Ecstasy.

Therefore, it appears that using Ecstasy one time is possibly safe. However, taking Ecstasy as few as an average of 3.2 times causes noticeable damage in verbal memory. Ecstasy should be taken no more than once in a lifetime, if at all.

Evidence strongly suggests that the heavy use of PCP, ketamine and DXM may cause permanent brain damage and can often cause schizophrenia-like symptoms which may be related to that damage. The theorized damage involves the vacuolization of neurons (basically a hollowing out and death of the neuron) in various parts of the brain.

The evidence comes from rat studies and the dosages have been criticized, but humans are far more sensitive to the effects of dissociatives than rats are, so the differential doses are probably about right.

The rat evidence has now been challenged by monkey studies, so the matter is far from settled. But until it is, extreme caution, if not outright avoidance, seems to be the best policy for these drugs.

PCP can probably be used up to a dozen or so times in life with no permanent damage. Beyond that, things get a lot touchier. Heavy users show an extremely high rate of schizophrenic and psychotic symptoms, along with symptoms of brain damage. There seems to be some recovery with abstinence, but full recovery is by no means assured.

Evidence indicates that ketamine can be used at least once with no permanent consequences at all to the brain. Beyond that, it is up in the air. Ketamine can surely be used at least a dozen times with no risks to the brain. Beyond that, things get hazier.

Heavy DXM users have reported a very high rate of psychosis and schizophrenia-like symptoms, along with symptoms of organic brain damage. Users should approach DXM use with caution, and heavy use should be ruled out.

Heavy methamphetamine use has been proven to cause permanent damage to dopaminergic systems, especially in the striatum, caudate and putamen (at ½ gram a day, 5 days a week, and 2 years of use). Studies have also shown degeneration of axons on serotonergic neurons and loss (cell death) of up to 15% of the neurons of the hippocampus with heavy use.

In the study above, there was some recovery of the dopaminergic system with abstinence, but it was only partial. Meth can probably be used a dozen or so times without any permanent damage. Beyond that, no guarantees. There is some suggestive evidence of chronic psychosis, depression and anxiety directly related to heavy methamphetamine use (over 10 years of heavy use).

Impairments in learning, processing speed, and working memory, along with delayed recall, are found in meth users. Brain dysfunction is often readily apparent in heavy meth users. This is one category of drug user, in contrast to most other drug users, that does sometimes appear “fried.” Much of this “fried” appearance seems to clear up with abstinence.

Methamphetamine can probably be used up to a dozen times or so in moderation without any permanent consequences to the brain. Nevertheless, some users have reported permanent effects from only 2-3 weeks of very heavy use. Meth is nasty stuff, and it’s best to keep away from it.

Heavy drinking can depress neurons for up to two years. With continued heavy drinking, at some point, there is organic damage, which in many cases is permanent, although there is often significant recovery with abstinence. The case of the “wethead” and “dry drunk,” the former alcoholic who is still damaged, psychologically or cognitively, is well known.

Heavy use of barbiturates over many years causes a damage syndrome that looks like chronic alcoholism and that does not completely recover with abstinence.

Even chronic Valium use causes long-term EEG changes of unknown significance.

Sniffing glue has been proven to be possibly the worst thing you can do to your brain short of putting a bullet in it, and the effects do not recover completely with abstinence.

Cocaine, unfortunately, seems to be capable of causing brain damage with as few as 11 doses (constriction of vessels in the brain). At three years of using several times a week, there is slowing on the P300 event related potentials test, that may not recover fully with abstinence.

Recent studies have also shown that chronic heavy cocaine use causes reductions in gray matter in various parts of the brain. This means that heavy cocaine use causes an actual loss of brain cells in parts of the brain. It may also cause white matter reductions, which means a loss of connections in the brain.

There are also impairments in attention, learning, memory, reaction time and cognitive flexibility in cocaine users. It is not known whether these clear up with abstinence.

This blog recommends that lifetime use of cocaine be limited to 10 times or less. Even there, there is a slight risk of sudden death due to perturbations in the heart’s electrical rhythms. These perturbations can cause a sudden heart attack or even possibly a stroke. Vasoconstriction is probably involved.

In many of the above cases, there is some recovery with abstinence, but often not to the previous level.

Experimental use of PCP, ketamine, cocaine and methamphetamine (use up to a dozen or so times for each one) probably does not cause significant permanent damage. Beyond that, you play with matches.

Compared to other drugs of abuse, such as Ecstasy, PCP, Ketamine, DXM, cocaine, methamphetamine and alcohol, the effects of cannabis on the brain are dramatically less deleterious.

In terms of its effects on the brain for heavy users, cannabis is surely by far least damaging intoxicant of them all, for what that is worth.


Filed under Alcohol, Amphetamine Psychedelics, Barbiturates, Benzodiazepines, Cannabis, Coke, Deliriants, Depressants, Dissociative Anesthetics, Dope, Glue, Hallucinogens, Intoxicants, Ketamine, LSD, PCP, Psilocybin, Reposts From The Old Site, Speed, Stimulants