The 'Dam Or Be Damned

Amsterdam was as I had left it. Fucking cold and watery.
The hotel/hostel we stayed in was a five minute walk from the station and the red light district.
It was clean, warm and had its own bathroom. The cigarette burns all over the bath suggested they had a lax policy concerning the smoking ban which is all you really need from a cheap hotel.
I did hope that the seven notches carved out of the edge of the table represented ‘bunk ups’ and not ‘kills’ but I realise when it’s cheap you can’t have everything.


Before we left we heard news that the Smart Shops had been banned from selling Magic Mushrooms and we were a bit pissed off as a ‘trip’ had been part of our plans.
On Saturday the Big little brother went out to get us some Party Pills to help celebrate his birthday.
He returned so excited he could barely contain himself.
The Mushroom menus come out at night!
Being an inventive people, the Dutch have got around the ‘shroom ban with Truffles.
The brother had found Mexican Mushrooms and Truffles called Philosophers Stone (Sclerotium).
I had the Sclerotium and J had both!
After an hour or so J suddenly stood up, looked around and announced,
“I declare it good times!”
Taken a little by surprise I replied,
‘Thank Christ somebody has!’
This little exchange sent us both into deep, belly laughing hysteria.
They were extremely euphoric and I giggled and giggled.
I even got to the point where I knew I’d have to stop or burst into tears.
At some point ATM ‘phoned to wish him Happy Birthday.
J was really coming up on the ‘shrooms and the first words out of his Mum are,
“Feel any different?”
J, not realising she meant, did 21 feel different, looked panicked and blurted out,
“I’ve taken Magic Mushrooms!”
This tickled me for a long time.


Laying on the bed I got the feeling of rushing down a tunnel, like a ‘Shroom Flume.
There was nothing I could do about it other than keep my elbows tucked in.
An extremely pleasant and intense experience although texting was a bit of a trial.
I was the last one to go to sleep and the first one up the following morning.
Joints were smoked, vodka drunk, and book read as I waited for the ‘Hardcore of a Generation’ to wake the fuck up!


We caned the coffee shops and were stoned about 18 hours a day.
I stormed my way through some heady hash from Africa and the Indian continent.
Aaah. I miss proper hash.
Starting with White Russian, travelling through Hawaii and Asia, I smoked six different varieties of weed.
Most agreeable.
I also realised that I smoke cannabis for totally different reasons to my brother and his mates.
They smoke to get absolutely, positively fucked up.
Whether a smoke is an Indica or a Sativa is important to them as well as the strength of it, but most of all they want to be left dribbling and staring in to space!
I like to smoke and see what the effects are.
Some make me want to draw, some make me want to write, others make me very aware of music and some make me want to be active.
They just wanted to get ‘retarded’.


Which brings me on to the words I heard most this weekend:
Epic, Retarded, Sketchy, Spin Out, Blatantly and the most heard sentence;
‘I could do with something to eat’.
I swear to Christ they needed to eat something hourly.
Not just munchies, full fucking dinners!
But it’s done. My baby brother is twenty one and I was delighted to be a part of it.




This is one of my top ‘Dam tunes from this visit. Heard in the Hill Street Blues coffee shop while smoking Manali Charas.
Good times.

Wanking kills. Those hellish Nuns were right!