the CELLAR

I stopped by the cellar John lived in one afternoon.  It was a 
great place: sheets he'd picked up from dumpster-diving covered 
the walls and ceiling, four or five speakers he'd found the same 
way, and an old record player.  He burned incense (and other 
stuff) liberally.  That day I stopped by he had a blue gas-tank 
with him.  "What's that?" I said.  "Nitrous," he said.  He had a 
big balloon he filled with the nitrous and then he breathed it all in 
and got this faraway look on his face.  "What's it feel like?" I 
said but he didn't answer.
He did a couple more, then he fell down and started twitching.  I 
sat there a couple seconds, wondering what I should do.  I was 
just gonna bend down and pull his tongue out (so he didn't 
choke to death) when he came to.  "You looked like you were 
dying," I said.  He smiled and said "yeah, I forgot to breathe air.  
You wanna try this?"  "Sure" I said.  "Be sure and breathe air 
though" he said.
I filled the balloon and took a breath from it, then I breathed 
some air.  All of a sudden everything started to hum.  I felt like 
this buzz, like everything was humming and I was humming 
with it.  Then it went away.
"It doesn't last long," he said.  "Now give me the balloon back."
"Sure," I said, and just watched him, and listened to the music.
That was it until a month or so later, when we were talking and 
he said he was going to fill his tank again.  "You want to split 
it?" he said.  "Sure!"  So we drove in that Friday and filled the 
tank at this car-supply place.  On the way back he was telling me 
that one time he'd filled it up and he'd wanted to hit it so bad that 
he'd taken hits straight from the tank without a balloon, while 
his friend drove.  He said you shouldn't do that, though, 
because it could freeze your mouth.  We ended up back at the 
cellar and we split the tank, balloon after balloon.  He was 
painting while he did his, and I was writing random stuff on a 
notepad.  We were listening to a reggae show, and after a while 
I stopped writing and just listened to the music.  I wish I could 
say nitrous made me think better, but it didn't.  It did make me 
feel in a better way, though.  It made me feel like everything was 
connected, and working together.  It made me feel like in the 
movie Tron, like I was an electrode moving along the paths of 
light.  It was like techno music.  A couple months later me and 
some friends went to a ska show, and after it got out we drove 
the 5 hours home even though we'd been skanking all night.  
Three folks were asleep in the back, and I stayed up and talked 
to my friend who was driving, to keep him awake.  That feeling 
was a lot like being on nitrous.  I had somewhere to go, and a 
purpose, and I was a part of something, and useful, and there 
was a ringing in my ears, and my body felt something.  
Thinking back on it, I think nitrous helped give me direction in 
life.  I liked having that sense of purpose.  It was cool to have a 
sense of purpose, so I always tried to have something I was 
working towards in life, and friends I could count on.
I also started filling up the tank every once in a while.  I don't 
know why they call it laughing gas; me and my friends only 
really laughed on it a couple times.  Mostly we sat around 
talking, thinking, or just having that buzz around each other.  
One time I was sitting in this huge overstuffed couch and I took 
two huge hits, emptying out a balloon. I started feeling the buzz 
big-time, and I leaned farther and farther back in the couch.  I 
remember thinking that all people were really connected, like 
another person's body was like my body, and I should watch 
out for it.  Just like there was a biosphere, or an ecosphere, there 
was a humansphere.  There was a consciousness-sphere, and 
maybe that's what God is.  Suddenly I realized that was TRUE!  
Then the buzz went away, and I was still thinking that, but the 
"realizing" it wasn't as strong.  All my friends were looking at 
me.  I'd leaned all the way back in the corner of the couch, and 
was drooling.  "You must seen God or something!" one of my 
friends said, and I said "yeah!" and tried to explain it.
John moved out of his cellar to stay with his parents for a couple 
months, and I asked him if I could stay there while I waited a 
week or so to find a new place to live.  He said sure, so I moved 
my stuff in.  It was bare and cave-like, since he'd moved his 
stuff out.  I set up my TV and VCR and a chair in one corner, 
and my sleeping-bag and books in the other.  I liked keeping the 
lights out and burning incense and watching TV while I did 
nitrous.  One day I was watching "A Brief History of Time" by 
Stephen Hawkings, who was talking about Black Holes and the 
Universe.  He was talking about how time didn't really have a 
beginning or end, it just kind of cycled back on itself.  He didn't 
spend much time talking about it, but right when he got to that 
point I took a big hit of nitrous.  All of a sudden it made sense!  
Of course time didn't have a beginning or end... it was time!  
How could it!  Time just WAS, and we humans were the ones 
who limited it!  The feeling faded away, and it's not like I've got 
a great understanding of the nature of time now, but I don't feel 
scared of things like that.  God, time, life, death... maybe I can't 
answer all the big questions right at this moment, but I've got 
faith.  We humans working together, when we look out for each 
other, can figure them out.  I've seen it, and that's how it starts.