Just worked all day. Kicked back with a beer and wrote this out.
About this time last year had plans to go see Mac Demarco at Stubbs. Also around this time I was prescribed Klonopin. Then, to add on to this downward spiral I discovered that the gas station close to my house sold two 32 oz. Steel Reserves for only $2.15. Empty Steel Reserves and pints of Evan Williams could be found all over my home. Anyways, the day had come for me to go see Mac. Had been looking forward to the show for a while. On the same day, I had just gotten a re-fill on my Klonopin. It had been about ten days since I had run out and had to wait until I was allowed by my doctor to get my re-fill. I planned on having a few beers, taking a pill, and just having a mellow time chatting it up in my anxiety free haze. What ended up happening is me pounding Steel Bullets (more than two) and taking my K-pins as soon as I left so I wouldn't start to feel them until got to the venue which was about 15 minutes away. I wanted to be safe
. My plan was to see how fucked up I was by the end of the show and decide then if I needed to get an Uber. Back then I rode my moped around town and you can park anywhere for free if you drive a motorcycle in Austin. Hopped on my moped and rode off to the venue. About half way there it started to become apparent to me that I was not familiar with this state of fucked uppedness. My motor skills were going down the tubes fast which doesnít really happen to me even after a few Steel Bullets. That half way mark is the last thing I remember...
Apparently I crashed my moped directly in front of will call. Walked up, got my ticket, then tried to walk into the venue like nothing had happened. They turned me away for obvious reasons. I turned around got back on my moped. Moved it to a parking spot. Went back to the show, and again the venue refused to let me in. First I tried switching doors guys. Then I tried running through full speed. The manager comes out and I started arguing that I wasn't in that bad of shape and Iíd be fine by the end of the show. Continued to argue. The cops show up. By this point I don't even remember my own name, address, date of birth, etc. Iím falling down, the cop is picking up my wallet off the ground when I missed my pocket. He also found my weed, but it was just my one-hitter.
They took me to jail. I kinda remember just waiting around for a long time. The cool/fucked up thing about barbiturates is that you just donít care about any situation you are in. Nothing affects you in any way. Itís a joke to you how much you donít care and you kinda want people to know it. Shit is the devil. I woke up in my own cell which was cool. Charged with public intoxication.
Went back to Stubb's a few days later for some local band. Had NO IDEA i wasnít supposed to be there. ALL the employees recognize me when I smoking a cigarette outside. The manager comes up and tells me what happeNed and that I now have a three year criminal trespassing warrant out for me. If I return to Stubb's I could be arrested.
Thatís basically it. DONíT FUCK WITH BARBITURATES!