happy birthday, me
i am 23 years old today
whitney is the sweetest
she got me a microphone
and even a c-stand
so i'm pretty fucking stoked
whitney and i slept in until past noon and then we ate strawberry waffles. i havn't had a birthday this exciting in a long time. i an beyond thankful and i'm still trying to find the way to express it.
i can't wait until school starts and i get to studdy music theory and hopefuly next quarter, some sound recording or voice lessons.
the writing class should be exciting, too. i am most anxious about this class because i have so many grandiose and rediculous dreams for myself. perhaps they are possible but for the time being, i am having trouble believing in them.
...yeah. i gave some further thought to the other night.
one is never the same after consuming psychodelic drugs. it has a tendancy to simplify your existance down to the point where it is generaly frightening. the average person should not jump right into a psychodelic experience expecting anything fun.
everybody can gerneraly mannage the body high. for the first few hours, everything feels great. you can sing along with your friends or play out a scene in an epic commedy. mundane things become brilliant and things that you'd generaly consider absurd seem to make more sense.
everything fits together, even if it doesn't.
brian and i spent these hours thinking about being in second grade and recording trip to mars on a tape recorder. somehow, this small experience defines my entire artistic being. it started my writing. it started my thinking about who i am.
somehow, i fear that my mom must have come across those tapes and tossed them out. worst of all, i feel that that fear is a reality. i'm almost sure of it. this is part of the reason why i hate my mother.
and the other night, when brian and i were frying on mushrooms, brian and i isolated ourselves in liam's trashed shack. it's cluttered with empty beer cans and half smoked cigaretes and ash and dirt and a big tv. unorganised stacks of dvds and cds and vhs cassettes climb up to the ceiling. there is hardly enough room to fit people in the room.
at some point, i became disconnected from myself and time itself ceased to exist. if memories are footprints in the sand, then there was a heavy rain and the sand was wet. all the sand around me was flat.
my vision became less fluid. if our eyes normaly refresh at a rate of 30 frames per second, then my eyes droped to almost one frame a second, sometimes less. at times, only portions of my vision would refresh itself. like my perhiphial vision would become completley stagnant until i looked over at it strait on. or sometimes my entire vision would become stagnant except for a small block of movement that i was focusing on.
needless to say, i was slowly becoming unconscious of the real world.
i have been here before. last time, i freaked out. this time, i was somewhat frightened but mostly confused. i held my ground. i lost complete control of my bodily functions and wet myself atleast once and i had difficulty communicating with people but for the most part, i was okay.
brian dished me up my portion of mushrooms and he admitted later that he probably gave me too much. but it's all good. he took care of me and i can't be thankful enough.
once you drop your sanity, it's hard to pick it up again. everything feels like a dream from which you can't wake up from. and this is either going to be a good dream or a nightmare. i wasn't quite halucinating, but i sure acted as if i was.
i remember not wanting to be anywhere that i was. at some point, i came to accept that i was always going to be where i was and nothing was going to be able to change it.
yet at the same time while i was tripping on the fear of a perpetual stagnent existance, i was too afraid of changing anything. probably out of fear that i'd ruin what little was still good about the universe.
then i thought, what am i trying to achieve thru this experience? if i was to succesfuly seperate myself from my ego, what would be the beenefit? is this enlightenment? why would anybody want to be enlightened? i just want to be able to enjoy myself.
perhaps psychodelic drugs are not the answer. they are a tool. not a tool for self apreciation but a tool for enlightenment which is a tool for self apereciation. psychodelics are not spirituality in a bottle.
there is a definate difference between things i know and things that i simply feel very strongly about. and thru these experiences i have been able to feel different currents of energy and i have a more solid feeling about what the universe is made out of but i'm not sure if any of this information is useful.
it might take a year before i allow myself to trip like that again.
whitney is the sweetest
she got me a microphone
and even a c-stand
so i'm pretty fucking stoked
whitney and i slept in until past noon and then we ate strawberry waffles. i havn't had a birthday this exciting in a long time. i an beyond thankful and i'm still trying to find the way to express it.
i can't wait until school starts and i get to studdy music theory and hopefuly next quarter, some sound recording or voice lessons.
the writing class should be exciting, too. i am most anxious about this class because i have so many grandiose and rediculous dreams for myself. perhaps they are possible but for the time being, i am having trouble believing in them.
...yeah. i gave some further thought to the other night.
one is never the same after consuming psychodelic drugs. it has a tendancy to simplify your existance down to the point where it is generaly frightening. the average person should not jump right into a psychodelic experience expecting anything fun.
everybody can gerneraly mannage the body high. for the first few hours, everything feels great. you can sing along with your friends or play out a scene in an epic commedy. mundane things become brilliant and things that you'd generaly consider absurd seem to make more sense.
everything fits together, even if it doesn't.
brian and i spent these hours thinking about being in second grade and recording trip to mars on a tape recorder. somehow, this small experience defines my entire artistic being. it started my writing. it started my thinking about who i am.
somehow, i fear that my mom must have come across those tapes and tossed them out. worst of all, i feel that that fear is a reality. i'm almost sure of it. this is part of the reason why i hate my mother.
and the other night, when brian and i were frying on mushrooms, brian and i isolated ourselves in liam's trashed shack. it's cluttered with empty beer cans and half smoked cigaretes and ash and dirt and a big tv. unorganised stacks of dvds and cds and vhs cassettes climb up to the ceiling. there is hardly enough room to fit people in the room.
at some point, i became disconnected from myself and time itself ceased to exist. if memories are footprints in the sand, then there was a heavy rain and the sand was wet. all the sand around me was flat.
my vision became less fluid. if our eyes normaly refresh at a rate of 30 frames per second, then my eyes droped to almost one frame a second, sometimes less. at times, only portions of my vision would refresh itself. like my perhiphial vision would become completley stagnant until i looked over at it strait on. or sometimes my entire vision would become stagnant except for a small block of movement that i was focusing on.
needless to say, i was slowly becoming unconscious of the real world.
i have been here before. last time, i freaked out. this time, i was somewhat frightened but mostly confused. i held my ground. i lost complete control of my bodily functions and wet myself atleast once and i had difficulty communicating with people but for the most part, i was okay.
brian dished me up my portion of mushrooms and he admitted later that he probably gave me too much. but it's all good. he took care of me and i can't be thankful enough.
once you drop your sanity, it's hard to pick it up again. everything feels like a dream from which you can't wake up from. and this is either going to be a good dream or a nightmare. i wasn't quite halucinating, but i sure acted as if i was.
i remember not wanting to be anywhere that i was. at some point, i came to accept that i was always going to be where i was and nothing was going to be able to change it.
yet at the same time while i was tripping on the fear of a perpetual stagnent existance, i was too afraid of changing anything. probably out of fear that i'd ruin what little was still good about the universe.
then i thought, what am i trying to achieve thru this experience? if i was to succesfuly seperate myself from my ego, what would be the beenefit? is this enlightenment? why would anybody want to be enlightened? i just want to be able to enjoy myself.
perhaps psychodelic drugs are not the answer. they are a tool. not a tool for self apreciation but a tool for enlightenment which is a tool for self apereciation. psychodelics are not spirituality in a bottle.
there is a definate difference between things i know and things that i simply feel very strongly about. and thru these experiences i have been able to feel different currents of energy and i have a more solid feeling about what the universe is made out of but i'm not sure if any of this information is useful.
it might take a year before i allow myself to trip like that again.