The Lapse podcast, review: Reflections on addiction left me craving more

The Lapse is the brainchild of Kyle Gest, a Canadian writer who edits the stories of ordinary people, reworking them into audio novellas complete with gentle, evocative sound effects

"Sometimes I get a little too curious for my own good," said Jupiter Diego, a man with the name of an intergalactic superhero and the constitution of Zeus.

Diego is an LA-based artist, a storyteller and an addict. He is also an occasional contributor to The Lapse, a podcast that positions itself somewhere between The Moth's mesmerising storytelling and the smart, stylised documentary-making of WNYC's Radiolab.

It's the brainchild of Kyle Gest, a Canadian writer who edits the stories of ordinary people, reworking them into audio novellas complete with gentle, evocative sound effects. In the past the show has featured the tales of a woman who turned her rape into a comedy, a man caught up in a series of natural disasters and a virgin who was unusually deflowered. These stories arrive at three-week intervals and are rarely anything less than terrific.

Like so many thoughtful and well-made podcasts, The Lapse is forever looking for ways to fund itself and begins with a plea for donations. Lately there's been some grumbling about this kind of on-air tin-rattling, plus the ad breaks that are an increasing feature of even the most popular podcasts (see Serial and its association with Audible). To which I say: suck it up, moaners.

Few podcasters make a living out of what they do and most combine it with other, better-paid jobs. If you don't want podcasts to become subscription-based or, worse, to hit the wall entirely, then this is what they must do to stay afloat. If you don't like it, best stick with cosy old Radio 4.

Anyway, Diego. He told us, in that fried, slightly slurring tone of a man who has immersed himself in chemicals with epic abandon, of his days of buying designer drugs. They would come from Hong Kong or India, and arrive in little sachets hidden between the sleeve notes of a CD.

It was ethylphenidate that nearly did for him, a drug similar to Ritalin but way more powerful. These drugs, he said: "Release dopamine to the brain in the way Hoover Dam releases billions of gallons of water... It's a sexual high that can almost not be described. It goes on and on and on."

If Diego felt like he was in heaven on this occasion, it was because he was hurtling towards the afterlife. "911 was called," he said. "I believe at this moment I was already dead or in the last few moments of life. I floated above my house about 100 feet high."

His recovery was slow – for a long while he couldn't speak and when he could he couldn't stop apologising. "You know what it feels like to be an asshole, right?" he drawled.

Fifteen minutes in his company and I had the urge to strangle Diego for his stupidity but I also wanted to hear more. His reflections on the nature of addiction were intense and illuminating. He looked forward, he said, to future generations inventing a gene therapy "to turn those fucking little switches off in genetically vulnerable pre-addicts such as I was".

By pure chance, Radiolab had found a means of flicking those very switches. In an episode entitled "The Fix", the show revealed how a muscle relaxant called baclofen is proving a promising cure for those in the grips of alcohol and drug addiction, reducing and in some cases eradicating the cravings of those who took it. Take note, Jupiter. The future has arrived.

Twitter: @FionaSturges