The polyester I wore in the seventies was itchy,
the equivalent of one of those hair shirts the religious
fanatics wear after rubbing it in a bunch of sharply pointed twigs.

The seventies were good times  and carried a bright future.
Introduced by hippies to a **** that opened my senses.
Some trouble began when at sixteen, while taking a trip with a friend, on some powerful LSD we began to get very high and the hallucinations started to freak my friend into a major bad trip.

There was nothing I could do and I was scared too. That night we stayed in a tent  and used candles for light, all the shadows  and the candle wax  melting looked like giant bugs crawling, while the flickering on the sides of the  darkened tent  felt so sinister.

Things were never the same for my friend, I mean he lost a part of his mind. He could still function but was never the same.

I on the other hand lived hard and fast for years. I did most of the drugs that I came across never giving it much thought. Just moving forward, integrating experience. Not thinking of death but not of life either.