TAKE ACID. FIGHT COPS. FUCK GIRLS. LIVE LOVE LEARN.

it is a strange thing to look down at one's hands; clutching a teacup of scalding lapsang souchong, and to see the grey, slightly webbed gecko-like digits of a chronicled bradburian martian emerging form your sleeves. Stranger still to hear blues harmonica, played across tinny coffeeshop speakers, to take on that eerie harmony you generally only find at the utter depths of a nitrous binge. I don't know if I'm alone there, but I have increidble auditory hallucinations from nitrous.

And here they were again, dancing around with the steam and cigarette smoke while the businessmen around us drank double-espresso lattes and folded their D&G sunglasses conservatorially so as not to scratch the polymer lenses against the gritty faux-marble table surface.

[i]If you can afford an $80k mercedes, you can afford a coffee machine for your house you arrogant, loud prick[/i]

Things weren't quite out of control so much as beyond reason. None of us were wigging, nor acting particularly suspicious - Though we were all clearly [i]very[/i] insane (in this case precipitated by sublingual administration of 12.5mg DOI and 15mg 5-MeO-dmt by way of a morning cigarette), we were all talking coherently, and though agitatedly about seemingly trivial things (And I quote: "God [i]dammit![/i] I spilt something on my... Something!")

I worked my way through has browns and chipolatas that melted with rainbow grease-spots caught in perpetual flux; before my colleague remarked about how the cultural imprisonment of the common man has weakened the desire to publicly incite dissent, and proved his point by hurling tomatoes at passing cars. I conceded the point, paid our bill and departed at haste.

I miss my youth. I miss being a highschool wearing fishnet armwarmers and scrawling anarchy logos on my books and school buildings. partially because loathe as I am to admit it, I look [i]damn[/i] fine in skinnyleg jeans, but moreso because for the past few years I have felt nothing but fear for the police. Fear that I would be searched, raided, surveilled, pursued, hounded etc. etc. - but when I was a kid, graf-bombing local advertising outlets, I had nothing but contempt for those jupped up pieces of frogshit with an arbitrarily determined scrap of authority that proves nothing more then that they stuck through six months of hippy-kicking lessons.

... Well, that'a bit of an exaggeration, but the bottom line is that whilst I have nothing but the highest respect for those in the line of the law who are out there, keeping the bastards honest and putting behind bars the sick fucks, the murders, the muggers, the crackwit gobshites who bash 'faggots'... By all means. Shit on them.

but it's you overzealous underinformed smallminded bigoted tinydicked pompous pricks

[I]YES, YOU, LAWSON[/I]

That make me want to get down on a protest line with my steelcaps and molotovs. And I think I will.

Oh, and I'd like to leave you with a quote from a [i]fifteen[/i] year old girl I am currently training as my alchemical apprentice - It's quite scary, her skin is like milk and she's about nineteen times more intelligent then I am.

"Some people were saying that the universe was like an endlessly repeating set of dodecahedrons, which would make the universe only about 70billion light years across. But others are saying that if that were the case they'd find patterns of matching circles in the microwave background around the identical fluctuations. But the papers I read conclude from Friedmann equations that the omega parameter is equal to 1.013, and if it has a value greater or less than one then one would have to consider the universe to be curved, other studies have said that it's somewhere between 1.00 and 1.04. If it is 1.00 then that would mean that the universe is infinite... Now of course I know that the theory of cosmic inflation explains how our universe can appear homogeneous and isotropic if it's omega parameter shows a curve but I don't see how something that is infinite can't exponentialy expand, atleast it doesn't make sense to me that it could, and it seems more likely that our universe is infact finite, in an infinite space.

If the universe was an endlessly repeating set of dodecahedrons, they reckon they'd have a surface of 12 identical pentagons, that of course would mean that if you exited the universe some how you would re-enter the universe through the opposite face which would make you meet the same galaxies over and over again, thus, an infinite loop... acid loops on a universal scale..."

Szolem, you have a lot to answer for.

Creme > CREAM

I was standing in the station
being pounded by the rain
so I chose the last compartment
of a stationary train
I felt someone get in behind me
but I never caught their eye
but I thought I heard I heard a woman's voice
whispering goodbye

So I lay down in the darkness
with the beer and coffee stains
and I stared out at the thunder
through the broken window panes
And although the storm was booming
like an engine in the sky
I'm sure I heard a woman's voice cry

So I rolled myself a cigarette
and smoked it on my own
but it didn't stop the whispers
or the smell of her cologne
Then she rose up out of nowhere
and her hair was full of steam
and she stuck her head out the window
and screamed and screamed, she screamed!

So I picked up an old newspaper to read
and I noticed something very strange indeed
So I looked a little closer
and it chilled me to the bone
"Woman throws herself from speeding train,
identity unknown"
But I recognized the picture of the woman who was dead
and underneath the picture it said

A
N
G
E
L
A

There is something perplexingly erotic about acetylcholine junctions...

"[The feeling of doing DMT] is as though one had been struck by noetic lightning. The ordinary world is almost instantaneously replaced, not only with a hallucination, but a hallucination whose alien character is its utter alienness. Nothing in this world can prepare one for the impressions that fill your mind when you enter the DMT sensorium."
-- Terence McKenna

Sex is awesome. Sex on MDMA is double-awesome. Sex on acid is holy-fuck-have-you-seen-the-movie-teeth-awesome. Sex on DMT is impossible, because I'm too busy neurally coupling with fourteen-dimensional alien love gods to even contemplate taking off my pants.

it ain't so much 'scorin with hot alien bitches' as permitting my every synapse to expand at a rate of dynamic quantum precession, every potential conenction firing at once across every potential thought to generate a state of enlightenment for that brief, brain melting world-burning moment of truth, wherin angels of mars sing the chorus of dying swans; before the waveform collapses and leaves you tumbling through a turgid sea of lukewarm euphoria - The fatalistic, bleeding-out of knowledge, running through your fingers in a language you can no longer comprehend while the faces of babylonian spirit warlords laugh and jest at your meagre mortal attempts to transcend into valhalla, or heaven, or whichever avatar of eternal bliss DMT has taken on that particular time.

DMT is the eucharist of time and humility. DMT is the cocktease of fate. DMT is unstoppable, inorexable, an ice age of human evolution across a few brief minutes of 'high'...

It is impossible to like or hate DMT, in the same way you cannot like or hate a god. That is not to say it can be worshipped so much to say that it is an entity and you can only draw judgement on the effects it has on you.

It is the only chemical I have encountered to date that has made me question the logical nature of the world. I am not implying that it turned me into a crystal-worshipping hippie, but it certainly made me realise "Wow, we really only do use five percent of our brain"

I have a drug problem.

	It's late, I'm at home sick, i'm broke, it's too hot, I'm taking a break from drugs, my girl's busy tonight, I've got a swathe of new games I haven't played or movies/TV shows I haven't seen yet but I don't feel like playing any of them... I've got music playing right now that is calling up nostalgia and feelings of highs long gone, and all I can do is remember how long it's been sicne I truly hammered my synapses as hard as I could... GIVE ME DRUGS YOU FUCKHOLES.

I feel it in my journalistic ovaries.

"All government, in its essence, is a conspiracy against the superior man: its one permanent object is to oppress him and cripple him. If it be aristocratic in organization, then it seeks to protect the man who is superior only in law against the man who is superior in fact; if it be democratic, then it seeks to protect the man who is inferior in every way against both. One of its primary functions is to regiment men by force, to make them as much alike as possible and as dependent upon one another as possible, to search out and combat originality among them. All it can see in an original idea is potential change, and hence an invasion of its prerogatives. The most dangerous man to any government is the man who is able to think things out for himself, without regard to the prevailing superstitions and taboos. Almost inevitably he comes to the conclusion that the government he lives under is dishonest, insane and intolerable, and so, if he is romantic, he tries to change it. And even if he is not romantic personally he is very apt to spread discontent among those who are."

Wet man, electric sheep.

People are scum.

People are beauty.

People kill people, and people raise children. People travel to the moon, and people poison the planet earth. People care for the elderly and people rape the young in dark alleys. people write poetry, and people fight wars. People love. People think. People hate and react and burn down what they don't understand. People are all fucked up on dangerously experimental designer drugs.

I am people. You are people. We are people.

I will understand people if it is the last goddamn thing I do.

Magic Numbers

Energy caught, outside of time, so over controlled-
I am losing my mind.
What is required, what must I do, are you for real?
Can you take me with you?

This is the force of life, 7300 kilo-calories per mole; of pure unadulterated energy
What are you doing right now?
taking notes? crossing your legs? coughing? digesting your food? listening to your voice mail? when the professor is lecturing, every aspect of the human body.

EVERY SINGLE THING IT MEANS TO BE ALIVE!

I sleep with a ball-peen hammer. Or at least, there's one in my bed. I haven't actually slept in four days; every time I feel myself blink for more then a few seconds I go to my sock drawer and wash down a handful of vasopressin, piracetam, anhydous caffeine and a little octopamine with a glass of grapefruit juice.

I am going to kick open the skull of society and jack off boiling poisonous truth directly into its brain even if it kills me.

DEUS EX SAPIENS

YOU are god and if you believe in an external god you are taking belief away from yourself and putting it into the hands of the universe, blaming freak accident on someone else's choice. You are wasting precious hours reciting passages of another man's writing, another man's god, to try and subscribe to that man's views.

And on those same lines, you will read this and believe whatever you want to believe. I am not your god. I do not want to be your God. or god. Capitalise or don't, it's irrelevant, for His name is Her name is Your name.

Our fathers were our models for God. If our fathers bailed, what does that tell you about God? You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen. We don't need Him. Fuck damnation, man, fuck redemption! If we are God's unwanted children, so be it!

So said Chuck, and on many counts, he is right, but in the wrong way. God hates you because when you take faith away from yourself you take love away from yourself. God is in the mind. God is in the details. God is love and love is the message. Love yourself. Believe in yourself.

And find someone with whom you can share the little details.

momentous momentum, unveiled at last

this will not be a long blog post.

this will not be a self-piteous whine hidden behind the thin veneer of aesthetically enjoyable literism.

I have reached a moment in my life wherin I am face with total catharsis and disconnection from the anchors that hold me in place.

it is not my intention to forget. I know how I feel, and I think I know how she feels. But until such a point when such feeligns can overlap, I have to make the most of it.

I have discovered certain... elements of nature to which we natural philosophers cannot yet ascribe a logical explanation. I cannot live in a world I do not understand.

The central misfits who all of them, owe me money, time and emotion will have to solve their own problems from heron in. There is no longer any reason for me to see them ever again. I have friends there, yes... but they are fair-weather friends to the end.

it is time to take my work back underground. To prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

pleasant dreams, world. experience thineself.

Lost in the woods.

Emotion is not a lightswitch. You cannot fall in and out of love. These things don't stop and start without some incredible emotional upset.

You can stop loving yourself. When you do, you need someone else to show you the path of light. But if you love someone else? Love means forever. Love means seeing the faults and seeing the problems and still loving. Love is unconditional and undying and love. is. forever.

it's one of those words that if you say it enough it stops making sense. Like 'fork' or 'book'.

not being able to say you love someone doesn't mean you don't care for them. Doesn't mean you don't want to be there for them. it just means you place more weight on it then they do.

I do love her. I know this because even though she has eaten a tiny part of me forever, I still want things to work. And that's more then jsut a reactionary thing to having lost something I thought was secure in my life. Because if that was the case, the feelings would be very... constant.

This isn't. I polarise, between rage and misery and love and angst and apathy and nonchalance and sickness. I cried when she told me she didn't love me any more. I puked when I saw her laying next to another guy. I screamed at the sky when she told me I needed to find love in myself.

Every time I think about that doof I break whatever I'm holding. Every time I think about her, my brain drops whatever pieces of my heart it's holding.

it takes time to tell someone you love them. It's jsut a shame they couldn't wait that long. That the first better option that came along also turned out to be such a giant douchebag. It breaks my heart to see her so hurt, but it hurts even more to know that even though he was using her, even though I love her and am trying to fix what was wrong, she still can't find it in herself to say it back.

Everything's backwards. When things were at their worst with us, before this whole thing. We'd be together, she'd be two steps behind because I was always hurrying. She'd have to start everything - Instigate our connections, when or where we'd meet up, when we'd touch or kiss. She'd tell me how it hurt her to not hear the words back, to not feel in me what she knew I was making her feel.

it's because she said those things that I have hope.

Hope that I'm not that person any more.

Hope that someday she'll be who she wants to be.

I have hope because I know she didn't do any of this maliciously. She didn't sleep with him to get back at me. She's not vindictive, not without due cause.

She's not avoiding me because she wants me to feel what its like. She says these things because she means them.

it hurts. It hurts more then anything I've ever felt before, about anyone, or anything. More then physical torment, worse then any emotional heartache I've had before.

She says she doesn't love me any more. I don't believe ehr, because love is forever.

Either she never loved me, or she just isn't ready to admit she loves me still.

She says that something's gone, something's changed... if anything's gone, she took it away, but somehow I still wind up being the one apologising every time we hang up on each other.

She wants space to figure out who she was. I want her to have space, because I think she needs this. I jsut don't want to see her fall into a pit of hedonism, absolute solitude and self-loathing.

but I can't stop her if she wants to. I have to let go now, and wait and watch and jsut hope she'll be okay.

I'm walking through the woods in the dark. i don't know where I'm going, I don't know when I'll get there, all I know is that when i get there I'll be alone in the cold and the dark until someone else finds me.

I know we'll never be together again. Just writing that sentence is bringing tears to my eyes. Anyone who knows me... Knows that this is real.

I just wish she did too.