BARACK Like Me by David Alan Grier

Author:David Alan Grier
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2009-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

Of course, this night, this useless, fucked-up, concert-less night, I happen to drop the best mescaline in the history of mescaline. In the history of drugs. Period.

I’m flying. I plop on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Wow. Stunning. Miraculous stained-glass windows descend and flick by like a slide show. Can’t count how many. Then plump happy checkerboard people bounce in and surround the bed. So soft. So puffy. I look into the overhead light and see a flickering, wavy lava lamp. Wowwwwww.

This all happens between 7:45 and 7:50.

What will I do to pass the next, oh, eight hours?

I call Carla.

She is doing homework. She has a paper due and a history quiz tomorrow.

“Hey, what’s up, Carla?”

“Hey, David, what’s up?”

“Nothin’. You know. This and that. Nothin’.–

“I thought you were going to the Black Sabbath concert.”

“Was.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“What happened?”

“Moms said no. She said I can’t go… because… it… is… a… SCHOOL… night.”

This cracks me up. It may in fact be the funniest thing I’ve ever said or heard in my life. I laugh for at least five minutes straight.

“David, I have to write my paper. And I have to study for this test. I haven’t even started—”

“Okay, okay, okay. Carla. Okay. Just one thing. And I will let you go. I promise. Just let me tell you this one, very important thing.”

“And then you’ll hang up so I can study?”

“Yes, yes. Absolutely.”

“Okay. One thing.”

“Here it is. Have you ever listened to Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix? I mean really listened to it?”

“I don’t think so. Not really. No.”

“No? You have got to be kidding me. You have to listen to it. You have to. It’s very important.”

“David, are you high?”

“Whaaa—?”

“You are. I’m hanging up.”

“Me? High? No. So, Carla. Electric Ladyland. It starts out with this amazing song, ‘… And the Gods Made Love.’ The song is incredible.”

“David, you said one thing.”

“I know. Electric Ladyland by Jimi Hendrix. That’s my one thing.”

Carla sighs. In my mind’s eye she cradles the phone against her shoulder and begins typing her paper. I keep talking. I go through every song on Electric Ladyland, all sixteen of them. I sing some of them, speak the lyrics, cry to a couple of them, laugh to the rest. I tell Carla she is a “Voodoo Chile” and that she has “Gypsy Eyes,” and that we should “Come On (Let the Good Times Roll).”

She laughs.

Once at 9:45 p.m. and again at 1:32 a.m.

At 2:00 a.m., the mescaline takes me down and I get morose. I apologize. Yell about my parents. Cry for no reason at all. But I don’t stop talking.

At 5:45 a.m. my mother wanders out of her bedroom and finds me sprawled on the kitchen floor. I pretend I’m asleep. She shakes her head, pours herself a glass of water, and goes back to bed. I continue my conversation with Carla, not realizing that she’d fallen asleep three hours earlier.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.