Uhhmm. Ok, Time for Rant.
I just realized that my last few posts have been purely about getting drunk. I think I'd like to stop that trend now. Here's something a bit more interesting:
I've been reading "A Long Strange Trip" by Dennis McNally, which Brad gave me. So far it's a great read. It's all about the history of the members of the Grateful Dead and then the saga of the band's adventures. Right now I'm at a part where McNally is relating about Ken Keasey and the Merry Pranksters and all the acid tests they did and so forth, and it's really interesting to see how they lived during this period where they were all just strung out on acid. The problem I'm having right now, and this doesn't just apply to this author and this book, I've seen it in many reads, is that I fucking hate the supposedly intelligent, philisophical bullshit this guy is piling into the story. I see it all the time. Authors write with big fancy words, trying to make the most complex sentances possible to impress God knows who, and they really aren't making sense, aren't really saying much of anything at all. McNally's sitting here raving about how the Dead and the Merry Pranksters had some sort of transcendent, enlightened lifestyle that was so magical and free and the way life is meant to be lived and all this shit, and all I can help to think is that these fuckers were a bunch of smelly hippies sitting around tripping their faces off and doing stupid shit. They have these conversations that are supposed to be meaningful philisophical discussions but they aren't making any sense, and only think they are because they're tripping. And I don't know how the fuck McNally can pump out this bullshit without realizing that. These guys were strung out on drugs, not doing shit with themselves, and somehow they obtain this title of enlightened ones. Don't get me wrong, the Greatful Dead are a great band, probably one of my favorites at this point in time, but they were still just a bunch of fucking drugged up hippies. And Ken Keasey is a great author, but I just can't accept the idea that these magical acid tests were worth anything as far as reaching God or realizing the oneness of the universe goes. They act like acid is the only way to truely see the world as it should be seen, and the only way to understand the meaning of life, but that's a complete lie. Acid is a distortion, a chemical that interrupts and twists signals in your brain and freaking burns holes in it, and it should not be reguarded as a path to enlightenment. That whole mindset is just an excuse to maintain an addiciton to a drug. Drugs need to be seen for what they are, a fun time that should be done once in a while, and in the case of acid, maybe only once in a lifetime. They aren't the answer to the universe. Give me a break.
But anyway, the book really is interesting and I love learning the history of how the Greatful Dead came to be and all the influences to their music. I highly reccommend it, so long as you can stomach some serious preachy pseudo-transcendental bullshit.
I've been reading "A Long Strange Trip" by Dennis McNally, which Brad gave me. So far it's a great read. It's all about the history of the members of the Grateful Dead and then the saga of the band's adventures. Right now I'm at a part where McNally is relating about Ken Keasey and the Merry Pranksters and all the acid tests they did and so forth, and it's really interesting to see how they lived during this period where they were all just strung out on acid. The problem I'm having right now, and this doesn't just apply to this author and this book, I've seen it in many reads, is that I fucking hate the supposedly intelligent, philisophical bullshit this guy is piling into the story. I see it all the time. Authors write with big fancy words, trying to make the most complex sentances possible to impress God knows who, and they really aren't making sense, aren't really saying much of anything at all. McNally's sitting here raving about how the Dead and the Merry Pranksters had some sort of transcendent, enlightened lifestyle that was so magical and free and the way life is meant to be lived and all this shit, and all I can help to think is that these fuckers were a bunch of smelly hippies sitting around tripping their faces off and doing stupid shit. They have these conversations that are supposed to be meaningful philisophical discussions but they aren't making any sense, and only think they are because they're tripping. And I don't know how the fuck McNally can pump out this bullshit without realizing that. These guys were strung out on drugs, not doing shit with themselves, and somehow they obtain this title of enlightened ones. Don't get me wrong, the Greatful Dead are a great band, probably one of my favorites at this point in time, but they were still just a bunch of fucking drugged up hippies. And Ken Keasey is a great author, but I just can't accept the idea that these magical acid tests were worth anything as far as reaching God or realizing the oneness of the universe goes. They act like acid is the only way to truely see the world as it should be seen, and the only way to understand the meaning of life, but that's a complete lie. Acid is a distortion, a chemical that interrupts and twists signals in your brain and freaking burns holes in it, and it should not be reguarded as a path to enlightenment. That whole mindset is just an excuse to maintain an addiciton to a drug. Drugs need to be seen for what they are, a fun time that should be done once in a while, and in the case of acid, maybe only once in a lifetime. They aren't the answer to the universe. Give me a break.
But anyway, the book really is interesting and I love learning the history of how the Greatful Dead came to be and all the influences to their music. I highly reccommend it, so long as you can stomach some serious preachy pseudo-transcendental bullshit.