I feel a little like galileo some times. This is not to say that my friends and fellow doofers are close-minded, but they're certainly differently minded. I am a spiritual person; this much is true; but I find it difficult to nod and smile politely when close friends are asking me whether or not I think it's a placebo effect that they feel stronger energy from meditating with one crystal rather then another. Likewise, when people very close to you are telling you qabout their experiences seeing ghosts, spirits, faeries and demons... Well, I'm not going to say that you're lying. I like to keep an open mind about the potential for mental expansion through the sue of psychedelics and the possibility that you're using a higher part of your brain that allows to to see these otherworldly beings. it's possible. But highly improbable. it's awfully, awfully hard to not tell them to stop taking acid and get a bloody catscan because they're fscking bonkers.
I believe in chemistry. I rely on the scientific method. I feel a strong conenction with the earth and the planet and feel very strongly about the environment and protecting what we have left. I am anti live aniumal exports, anti old-growth logging and anti whaling.
but then again, i'm pro nuclear. I'm pro choice. I'm pro stem-cell research, and pro-CERN.
It's hard being the only guy in the spirit circle who knows what a wolf-kirschnerr reaction is, but even harder when a friend says that 'the mushrooms whisper to him' to say they're psychedelic; when the ehrlich, melzer's and iodide testing says they're toxic...
A scientist's lot is not a happy one. I love all of my friends, but some of them are pretty fucking nuts.
Monday, December 29, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Lucy raped me, Dimitri put me back together.
drum beat
drum beat
drum beat
recognise reality - Distinguish it form dreams. Put your head under the water until your vision goes black - And wait for the fragments of discorporeal dimensions to boil off in your eyesight. There's an inexpicable sense of belonging that comes with death - There's a familiar fear, a deep-seated grinding anxiety that you've known all your life. Then when you hit it, life is warm but the world is cold. It shuts you out. Cuts you down.
Standing on hot coals, the blind man asks for the time. He wants to know how much longer until the ghosts go to sleep.
Senseless from birth, he plots and wonders what vision must be like. Unable to comprehend colour, depth or shadow, he lives in a world of his own imagination. No other soul can possibly decipher his thoughts or memories, what he 'sees' in his minds eye. What happens when some fluke or chance,, some moment of nature, some divine truth reaches down and taps him on the optic nerve and says "Let there be light." ?
In that brief instance his world is deconstructed. Every mental image he ever had, every colelction of thoughts, every tied and related picture/pattern he stores in his memory is torn to pieces and strewn to the stars. His mind was lying to him, you see, and he now spies the universe in its true form.
This has a point, never fear, and a paralell.
For we are all blind from birth. We percieve - But we do not see. Out mind filters these images and sends feedback, lies, interpretations of the signal to make it easier for the concious mind to understand. There are those, however, who step out into the bitter universe and strip away the subjective babble, who burn off the curtains of conciousness and allow their mind to explore space, time and the universe as one.
They are the Psychonauts. And we are awake.
drum beat
drum beat
recognise reality - Distinguish it form dreams. Put your head under the water until your vision goes black - And wait for the fragments of discorporeal dimensions to boil off in your eyesight. There's an inexpicable sense of belonging that comes with death - There's a familiar fear, a deep-seated grinding anxiety that you've known all your life. Then when you hit it, life is warm but the world is cold. It shuts you out. Cuts you down.
Standing on hot coals, the blind man asks for the time. He wants to know how much longer until the ghosts go to sleep.
Senseless from birth, he plots and wonders what vision must be like. Unable to comprehend colour, depth or shadow, he lives in a world of his own imagination. No other soul can possibly decipher his thoughts or memories, what he 'sees' in his minds eye. What happens when some fluke or chance,, some moment of nature, some divine truth reaches down and taps him on the optic nerve and says "Let there be light." ?
In that brief instance his world is deconstructed. Every mental image he ever had, every colelction of thoughts, every tied and related picture/pattern he stores in his memory is torn to pieces and strewn to the stars. His mind was lying to him, you see, and he now spies the universe in its true form.
This has a point, never fear, and a paralell.
For we are all blind from birth. We percieve - But we do not see. Out mind filters these images and sends feedback, lies, interpretations of the signal to make it easier for the concious mind to understand. There are those, however, who step out into the bitter universe and strip away the subjective babble, who burn off the curtains of conciousness and allow their mind to explore space, time and the universe as one.
They are the Psychonauts. And we are awake.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Rextal.
I knew this day was coming. The ever-present anxiety that has been lurking just out of my vision, just out of sight, for the past few months is jsut about to boil to a head. life comes full circle - Last nights coincide with first nights, moments crystallize and crackle in the darkness. Plans form and are ruined in a moment. Friendships are torn forever; but then again, that seems to be for the best.
Once again I am sitting at home on a sunday night, brainfucked, scattered and torn. My wallet is empty, my back hurts and I hate myself vigorously for not having more self control.
This is not the cause I champion. This is hypocrisy. This is madness. The preacher weeps when he realises he's been wiping his arse with the bible for the past six months. LSD is not meant to be used this way.
No more.
No more sunburn and spiders and arguments. No more pity for the ones who love you. No more wads of paper shoved under the tongue.
I need to get abck to work for a few weeks. Earn an honest wage. Clear the books, wipe clean the slate and keep my head down. There are plots afoot, and people will trample you to be a part of them.
New york is not my home.
Once again I am sitting at home on a sunday night, brainfucked, scattered and torn. My wallet is empty, my back hurts and I hate myself vigorously for not having more self control.
This is not the cause I champion. This is hypocrisy. This is madness. The preacher weeps when he realises he's been wiping his arse with the bible for the past six months. LSD is not meant to be used this way.
No more.
No more sunburn and spiders and arguments. No more pity for the ones who love you. No more wads of paper shoved under the tongue.
I need to get abck to work for a few weeks. Earn an honest wage. Clear the books, wipe clean the slate and keep my head down. There are plots afoot, and people will trample you to be a part of them.
New york is not my home.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Ravers are dumb.
I hate ravers. With a passion, mostly. There are a number of notable exceptions, but by and alrge, raving is an elitist fag culture where everyone has synchronised epileptic fits and masturbates for twelve hours straight munching mouthfuls of speed, piperazines and ketamine masquerading as MDMA. They all seem to be about who's the best dancer, who's the best looking, who has the best pills, who can eat the most bikkies, who can be the biggest douchebag... Fuck ravers. This doctor is DOOF POWERED.
aaaaaanyway, back to the original topic. I so painfully often hear people complaining that they had a 'smacky pill'. This is wrong. Nine times out of ten, they just had a good pill. The problem is that everyone is so used to dropping meth bombs that if their bikkies doesn't have them PINGING LIKE MAD ARGH ARGH ARGH GURN GURN BROWNIAN MOTION ON A UNIVERSAL SCALE KAPOWWWWW FWOOOOOSHING then they automatically assume that it's somehow a bad pill.
newsflash, fuckheads: MDMA is only a mild stimulant. A bulk dose of molly should have you glued to your chair, or melting into puddles and rolling around the dancefloor like ice cream in the sun. You should be tranquil, empathic, feeling the world rush up to meet you and the sky splitting over your head as god himself reaches down to give you a pat on the pack.
Nobody puts heroin in pills. If you swallow scag, you tend to PUKE FUCKING BALLS for about an hour or so. And all the synthetic oral opiates, are either a) worth more per mg then MDMA, or not potent enough to get a good dose into one pill. So nobody bothers. Likewise, you don't get 'coke based pills', as cocaine doesn't fair too well under hot acid reflux, like in say, your stomach. I've seen a lot of those EZ-test kits give positive responses for cocaine, but then when you slap it into the GCMS, it turns out to be procaine or some equally inert tropane alkaloid... The only time I've actually seen coke in a pill was just because a guy had gotten his white powders mixed up when filling the press.
The closest you'll get to a 'smacky' pill are k-bombs, which are pretty fucking sick in my opinion, but once again, not cost effective to put a decent recreational dose in the pill.
When someone offers to sell you a 'triple stack' or whatever, slap them in the face. Double, triple and quad stacked pills are just a marketing gimmick - It's all the fucking saaaaaaaaaame...
If you call yourself a raver, you need to grow the fuck up. By all means, go to raves if you enjoy it... But don't define yourself by the crowd you hang out with. And try to LEARN SOMETHING about the pills you're taking.
aaaaaanyway, back to the original topic. I so painfully often hear people complaining that they had a 'smacky pill'. This is wrong. Nine times out of ten, they just had a good pill. The problem is that everyone is so used to dropping meth bombs that if their bikkies doesn't have them PINGING LIKE MAD ARGH ARGH ARGH GURN GURN BROWNIAN MOTION ON A UNIVERSAL SCALE KAPOWWWWW FWOOOOOSHING then they automatically assume that it's somehow a bad pill.
newsflash, fuckheads: MDMA is only a mild stimulant. A bulk dose of molly should have you glued to your chair, or melting into puddles and rolling around the dancefloor like ice cream in the sun. You should be tranquil, empathic, feeling the world rush up to meet you and the sky splitting over your head as god himself reaches down to give you a pat on the pack.
Nobody puts heroin in pills. If you swallow scag, you tend to PUKE FUCKING BALLS for about an hour or so. And all the synthetic oral opiates, are either a) worth more per mg then MDMA, or not potent enough to get a good dose into one pill. So nobody bothers. Likewise, you don't get 'coke based pills', as cocaine doesn't fair too well under hot acid reflux, like in say, your stomach. I've seen a lot of those EZ-test kits give positive responses for cocaine, but then when you slap it into the GCMS, it turns out to be procaine or some equally inert tropane alkaloid... The only time I've actually seen coke in a pill was just because a guy had gotten his white powders mixed up when filling the press.
The closest you'll get to a 'smacky' pill are k-bombs, which are pretty fucking sick in my opinion, but once again, not cost effective to put a decent recreational dose in the pill.
When someone offers to sell you a 'triple stack' or whatever, slap them in the face. Double, triple and quad stacked pills are just a marketing gimmick - It's all the fucking saaaaaaaaaame...
If you call yourself a raver, you need to grow the fuck up. By all means, go to raves if you enjoy it... But don't define yourself by the crowd you hang out with. And try to LEARN SOMETHING about the pills you're taking.
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