A Letter to an LSD Fiend

Angel, my brother —

I feel like acid is mainstream now. Teenagers take it to watch second-rate music shows at downtown slums, stripping away the experience from depth and value. To separate myself from them and the hype I refer to it by its trade name, “Delysid,” when I speak to people. You would be surprised how many don’t know what I’m talking about.

Vicky had a get-together at her house two nights ago. She tried to recreate Tom Wolfe’s Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by pouring five vials of acid into about 2 gallons of strawberry Kool-aid. There were only 6 of us. It was too much.

She has a medium-sized aquarium in her basement (where we gathered), filled with awkward fish of all shapes and colors — but only one of them caught my eye. It was rainbow-colored, with sad, dark eyes and fins shaped like circles. I looked at it until it acknowledged me. It swam towards the glass and, when close enough for me to hear it, said:

Your time is now. Try to live; if you can’t, try to cry. The global human population is metastasizing. Your species has risen to technological heights in order to destroy itself. Soon it will be game over.

Isn’t that comforting?

Your brother,


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