"Bill tried to relax. The key to a new drug was to understand that there was some small chance that you might freak and try to claw your own eyes out....
"Whoa," said Bill - because there It was. It came flooding over him in one titanic wave that may have resembled chemically induced sensations he'd felt before but only the way a silent film resembles a modern-day summer action movie. Like take a child from 1922 and sit him down fro "Transformers: Dark of the Moon" in 3D. There was a semblance of familiarity but not really. It was pure bliss that sublimated every anxiety anxiety and sorrow that had built in him for the past fifteen years. All those faces that produced such deep shame and guilt and nostalgia and love, now a mist torched by the dawn. He felt only unattached, unwarranted, pure-as-the-driven-snow-happiness. His skin warmed and tingled, every pore orgasming at once. He watched the love of his life writ brilliantly across the mystic sky river, carrying summer starts, satellites, and dust from the beginning of creation.
As we all know, the way memory works is that the sweep of your life gets explicated by a handful of specific moments, and this totems than stands as narrative. You must invent a ligature that binds the rest. After LSD mixed with metamphetamine, with an interregnum of several quartz of booze, one really begins to interrogate those incidents that blaze neon, and this cocktail was creating particularly interesting transpositions of time. It was like taking a virtual reality tour of his own past, like he could hold his little egg timer, rub it like a lucky time machine, and zip back to the morning he woke up in diaper in Rick's backyard to the heart-shitting sound of a shotgun blast.
Obviously he fell right out of the lawn where he'd passed out."
Stephen Markley, "Ohio"
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