There was a faint clicking sound in the background of my thoughts as i stared into the mirror brushing my teeth… i’ve been trying to figure out for years why the high i used to get from marijuana changed from fun/carefree to paranoid/anxiety driven experiences. I could never pinpoint an exact event where my mind’s biological makeup altered to push me away from this plant. Then it hit me.
Nearing the end of high school, i drove a group of friends to West Virginia where i bought my first blue glass bong (Blastoise) at our first visit to a smoke shop and stumbled upon a tiny circular plastic container with a 10x or 15x version called Salvia, this was our first introduction to each other. With no knowledge of what it was or how to do it, we watched each other giggle, laugh uncontrollably, mumble nonsense, grab at the air, and look off into the distance “through” reality with a face that resembled pure fear as we went too far down the cartoon tunnel towards our cartoon bodies away from our physical world here on Earth.
Was this the point when my entire relationship with marijuana had been unknowingly twisted upside down upon itself? Had there been some type of information downloaded into my subconscious that i was unaware of while these chaotic “mush-too-powerful-doses” visions from the extract produced only faint glitchy memories of being tossed into that infinite unknown void?
I’m fairly certain that this may have been where my being experienced a crossover from one brain hemisphere to the opposite matrix of numerical interpretation. The two substances are like divorced parents that you must choose between. Never able to see both of them in one space, but only able to run to one or the other, only able to love one while distancing yourself from the memories of the former. I lay here in wonder as i wait for the sun to rise.
Dimethyltryptamine, Proof that this Place is Made of Magic.
Proof this World is Made of Magic
The first hit was just a mild form of déjà vu where I was reliving that exact moment over and over and over with this waterfall of molecules rushing into my brain from my spine as this low and yet high pitched buzzing encompassed my audial perception while the room got infinitely smaller and kind of morphed into spinning geometrical shapes that I could barely comprehend.
Then I went out onto our second story balcony with a friend, I could barely see in the darkness of the full moon behind the railing shadowing the bong, but my last memory was of my friend shining the light of his phone on it as I inhaled and saying, “be careful dude, you don’t want to go too far!” And instantly I knew what I had done. I shattered my human existence and broke through time. The real déjà vu hit me, moments in repetition, I could see the objects, the blocks of visual reality glimmering and coming to life in sliced slow motion as they came alive, I had slowed myself down to the point that a single second was a near eternity, they kept reforming themselves into the shapes of my friend and the room around us. Like the inside of a giant super computer they were intelligent metallic shapes that had life, I could view myself and them from every angle of that space we inhabited. I could not believe my eyes. My mind was nowhere to be found and i was under the belief that when I smoked that giant hit, my friend’s reality was stemming from my mind and that he was experiencing this event the same way I was experiencing it. I believed we were both of the understanding that I myself was the dreamer of this entire “reality” that I thought myself into as this character Named Christopher Reed and that I was waking up into the greater reality which was also just another dream.
I felt so pure, yet so fearful that I would never be back to the mundane daily routines of human life with my family, that I’d already begun to miss how boring it was in that house sometimes and that I’d never have the chance to go back to it now that it had faded with my waking dream. I believed my friend was sad at realizing he was just a figment of my own imagination and that the life he thought he owned was only a projection of myself as another person inside my mind to keep my lonesome consciousness entertained with a tiny trick it played on itself. I was lost in shapes and motionless patterns, but I came back.
I sat there the rest of the night wondering how that place can exist in my mind and how this place I normally consider reality can exist at the same time when they are so different, two sides of the same coin. I haven’t been back to that place in about a year now and looking back on it I know that Terence McKenna was right in saying that “when you’re ready someone in your reality will bring this magic powder into your magic room and they will fill up your magic pipe and you will smoke this magic substance that makes you wake up for a single moment to remember just how infinite and complex this state of being truly is. ” … or something to that extent.
Someday you will wake up, and you will have a hard time believing that all of this this was only a dream.
The Salvia Beings await my return as i transform into one of the Face’s in the wall of their circular space tunnels.
Lady Divinorum
I started with the lighting of a candle and a short prayer to the Shepherdess, asking her to kindly guide my positive intentions with the sanctity of her heart as i put my consciousness in her hands. The meditation would last an hour, as i packed my first bowl of plain leaf, witnessing the last drops of sunlight dissipate into the darkness out of the corner of my window where my brightly colored mushroom tapestry was nudged over just enough to see the tips of the trees outside.
I took my first inhalation. Deep. Just enough to re-familiarize myself with the Salvinorin Landscape as the glowing static came on brighter somewhere in the distance of my imagination, flip-flopping my body to a secondary state of awareness as the inside of my mind bloomed into full focus on center stage as if i put it underneath a microscope of 1000x enhancement.
Bridges were being built. Those cartoon-like circular people warmly welcomed me, expected me, were excited to see me and dance with my consciousness yet again after being apart from each other for so long. I missed their presence filling my viewfinder. They touched upon many of the topics we’d previously went over at length in past journeys to their world, but like a favorite song or movie that never gets old, i enjoyed hearing their stories and Truths all over again.
They seemed to tell me many stories of the same themes i’d remembered from last time, but in vastly different ways and manners than before. Things like how they know all about the journey of the human body from birth to death because they had all been here. They came from this place and completed this stage of their own journey already. They were held to an ancient sworn oath that they could not reveal the true answers to life’s mysteries here on Earth for that is the nature of being human. To never have a final destination, but to keep moving on our way in search of something forgotten. A living memory. Always in pursuit, in constant wonder, never to find solid answers in these broken vessels.
I sat there astonished at these upheavals of thought from the depths of my being. Was i producing these statements or was Lady Divinorum carefully guiding me? I could sense she had taken a liking to me. She was peaceful and agreed to help.
The effects were wearing off. I filled another bowl and kept the lighter burning the whole time until all the plant material incinerated to a white glow of hot ash in the pit of my pipe. This time was stronger, eyes closed, waves of tiles washed underneath me in that dark void i was brought to where the inner workings of my mind was laid out before me.
This feeling i had was extremely peculiar. I felt a powerful surge of energy. Was it coming from within or entering me from some place outside of my body? I did not know. What i did know was how to control and use it. This was some type of ancient ability the human mind was produced to use but had been lost like the City of Atlantis to the infinite gears of time, once understood by our ancestors now a memory forgotten.
This technique and focus was and is absolutely crucial to our evolution on this planet, in this stage of our collective soul. I did not wonder this, i knew all of it to be fact. My awareness became super enhanced, it went to the middle-back of my brain in some Room that felt empty inside my skull and yet completely full, being massaged as it solidified my thoughts and energy into this force/pressure being collected to a single needle point inside my mind like a miniature sun.
A light switch was turned on in there. I could feel its positive vibrations altering my subconscious world. “Mushrooms connect you to the viewpoint of an ancient Alien race, Marijuana disconnects you from your True Self in a very negative manner (for me anyways), but this… this place is home.”
This is a matter of health. Psilocybe Roots me deep within the Earth.
(11:27) 0.40 grams of dried Psilocybe Cubensis lemon Tek’d into a tea, soaking.
(11:40) Start drinking warm tea.
(11:55) Finish sipping this concoction, looking at Pablo Amaringo artwork.
(12:10) Experiencing a wave of relaxed energetic contradictory tiredness, an overwhelming sensation to close the eyes. Listening to First Temple album from Closure in Moscow amazed at my hand’s ability to write these little remarks onto the paper. What am i even trying to accomplish? A clammy sweatiness is present on the palms, cold hands, chills in body, normal perceptual transitionary symptoms.
(12:16) Amazed that this is only 0.40 grams. I am feeling body/motor control swaying between some jittery take over force. I put on Deuter’s album “Garden of the Gods” and things feel more in place.
I suddenly feel the urge to let the spiritual being within me express itself through innate prayers, motions, and yogic postures i have never done before. It over-takes my body and i live as one dancing with the energies.
(1:10) I sat on my floor mumbling, stuck in headspace. The music was filled with beauty, with clarity i had forgotten. I lay in my bed, still going up. Consumed in thought. Memories recounted of the ancient sea creatures that filled my dream water this morning. I was desperately fleeing their presence, two sharks with great big teeth, eyeing me up. Hungry. I was only a newly born fish in this ocean, trying to evade their games by jumping onto land. Flopping, i grew lungs and became human, watching the stare of the hungry sharks from the rocky cliffs above the seaside. Safe.
I felt sharp pain in my lower left stomach, deep within my skin, i tried to heal it with thoughts, with sounds inside my visual matrix, but i could only think of bess, swarms of honey bees sucking the venom from my limbs, searching for the next flower to float to after they’d drink my soulless nectar.
This pain mostly subsided, i tranced out behind closed eyes downloading information, making wild connections between data previously left in the mud of my subconscious gel. I drifted into more half-remembered dreams, listening to these alien voices chant knowledge inside my eardrums. They gave me back my control over my body after they took the time to fix it from inside. They required full focus and attention until now, their work was done.
I bathed in the bliss of the comedown. The awareness of this enhanced mental connection and relationship with all Life. I am fully taken by how short this rocket-ship blastoff to peak was. How could less than an hour and a half duration of time hold so much mental function? Adding Lemon to the mix takes the mushroom trip to a much higher plateau than i thought possible. This is the same feeling i had when using them last winter by myself in this giant house alone with 2-3 gram doses and no lemon tea.
An odd thought kept replaying somewhere in that chaotic swarm of bees. That i was to impregnate a gorgeous woman when the time was right, and it would be in our destiny to birth the most beautiful child the human race has ever seen. A child who’s DNA would be the first to naturally evolve into the next step of Human potential, the bridge to our evolutionary transcendence of space and time as physical beings. I envisioned this within the opening of my third eye, beaming into my brain with the most brilliant set of technicolored lights. The fear i had at the beginning of this vastly evolving trip into hyperspace was swallowed whole by closed eyes and reassurance.
I am still heavy eyed, in wonder, and at peace. Reading from the ancient mycelial manuscript, they throw me little pieces and bits of encoded futures, secrets long forgotten within the matrix of the human DNA. How lucky am i to be the voice of their manifesting thoughts? For they enjoy having play time with the human mind
(1:50) Existence has this ever glowing warm vibe to it. Neither positive nor negative, in a state of being where everything just simply “IS.” No hate, only love, warm effervescent love. Awareness & enhancement. Why can we not see through this perspective at all hours of the night? Is there a way to gel this beautiful gift into the human mind and solidify its teachings into a new way of Life? I am at peace right now. A peace that radiates into the environment like a glowing lantern. I will carry it with me, bringing truth to those that fear this kind of mental clarity, curing their false understanding of the Alien Medicine right beneath our feet hiding in cow pastures, rekindling our lost connection with the Earth Mother.
(12:30) wondering if it’s worth it to try translating any trip/experience into words “while” it’s happening. Words are products of the aftermath. To enjoy the moment, to watch the self-replicating dots of light dance with the circular void is too beautiful to turn away from with pen and paper. To listen to the metallic extra-dimensional qualities of music as it pulsates into my eardrums with enhanced perception, this IS the experience, words ARE the aftermath.
Psilocybin & Neurogenesis
Been interested in the idea/research i’ve been reading lately that psilocybin is a pure catalyst of neurogenesis within the human brain, creating/birthing new neurons and pathways to linking experience and memory within the animal subject. I question whether more conscious learning (even physical calculation of new brain cells) would take place at lower daily doses (possibly spaced out by 2 or 3 days in between dosing) or if higher more “heroic” doses would give the user more of a healing experience without control of his mental mouse clicker at doses of 2-5 dried grams.
Let me put this in a question. Does the Psilocybin Mushroom have a more natural healing process within the subject at higher doses? Or is it possible to physically alter brain chemistry/neurogenesis at sub-psychotropic levels by daily dosing small amounts of the chemical like a sewage nootropic? The idea doesn’t seem too far fetched to me, but over time would the brain get so used to the input of Psilocybin that it would become dependent upon it? Would the normal serotonin-induced reality we inhabit lose its appeal or would Psilocybin enhance one’s ability to cope with the social/physical world in a much clearer realm of being? This could birth/emerge a new mindset that is more beneficial for the optimal survival and lifestyle of our race on this planet in our steps forward towards evolutionary transcendence. We must seek truth.
————-it was like i opened my eyes for the very first time————
We awaken from strange dreams Long forgotten by this time constraint, share our nightly wanderings and chill for a while. Mira calls me at 9:30 AM, “Baby where are you?” she manages in her croaky i-smoked-way-too-much-weed-last-night voice that i had grown accustomed to hearing. “I’m at Gina’s house since you fell asleep on me last night while i sat in your cold driveway for over an hour calling you about a thousand times with nowhere else to go,” i reply. “I’m sorry,” is all she can say. I tell her i’ll be back before she heads to work at noon to grab my things since the plan has been to trip with the boys all night in Jerry’s Dad’s attic where his old room of acidic splendor awaits us. Nicknamed “the Triptorium” for the days my friends had spent there tripping on acid covering the walls in glow-in-the-dark paint under countless amounts of backlights, color changing lightbulbs, and magical streamers hanging from the ceiling to give you one hell of a guaranteed “weird” experience, this was THE PLACE for “tripper”.
I thank Gina a million times for being so damn cool to me. She shrugs it off as no biggie stating that she’s “been there before,” as her sympathy and compassion for me were my closest allies on that super cold transitional night. She will always be my savior for picking me up at 3 AM like superwoman with no questions asked, only deep concern for my well-being and safety. I will repay her kindness in the future.
Back to Mira’s… i barely talk to her when i get there. We’re alone for an hour before she leaves for work but i kill the time by taking a long long shower, dressing slowly, and packing my bags. I do not deal well with confrontation and i’m so upset with her i would rather pretend she didn’t exist right now. I walk into her room, “why have you been acting so different to me this time back to visit?” … she coldly replies, “what do you want me to say?” as if there’s no explanation to her madness and i’m the crazed one here. I deem her incompatible with me. There’s no way of getting close to someone who doesn’t open themselves up to you, who stays behind locked doors in the space of their own lonely thoughts about the world. She was never meant to last long with me.
I kiss her goodbye, trying not to be too frustrated as there’s still a day or two where things could turn around for us. Her lack of emotion towards me has been making me crazy, and i think that’s what she wants! Using sex as a weapon, she’s winning her own game and i don’t even want to play. Cooper’s waiting for me, i pick him up a little after noon. He gets in the Jeep saying, “well, i guess i’m kicked out of the house… AGAIN… because i don’t ‘help out enough on my own’ ” waving his hands in the air imitating his helicopter-straight-laced-moody mother with that annoying tone in his voice that instantly pisses me off just thinking about it. They’ve always had problems, constantly fighting from the root problem that she simply doesn’t accept her long haired modern-day-hippie son.
We drive to Jerry’s, he’s still getting ready like usual, typical Jerry. Running around grabbing things, always about to take a shower but never actually showering. All the time in the world for this guy. Wait… I made that up! A false memory, whoops, we actually picked him up from work at the hoagie-shop and took him back to his mom’s house to get ready while me and Coop picked up the goods. Rewind.
Wait! Stop! Before that, between getting Cooper and picking up Jerry, Cooper and i decided to have lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant Bean Curd. We sat in the parking lot as he finished the end half of his last joint to relieve the stress of his mother’s complaining voice ringing in his eardrums. We talk of Mira, what she did to him, how he was actually so messed up after only 5 months of dating her that he had to see a therapist due to her keen/innate ability to drive dudes insane and mind-fuck them into believing that all the problems are stemming from within their own selfish doing.
How the hell did she manage to do that to sweet, kind, loving, goofy ass Cooper? He said things dramatically changed after month 2, but he continued to keep trying until after month 5 out of sheer stupidity and going against his instincts. major regret on his part. We were dumbfounded by the similarities between our experiences with her, especially her use of sex as a psychological weapon, her ability to get you to do everything for her to counter her extreme laziness, and the possibility of her not having a soul like she always spouts out to people.
“I seriously think she believes that about herself man, if you break up with her, which i advise you to do, she’ll go on this long streak of not caring about herself even more than usual. Not showering, never brushing her teeth, not eating. It gets bad,” Cooper explains. She’s a very self destructive person in hindsight. I thanked him for his warning. We were really happy to know that we truly weren’t crazy or making this shit up and it was all coming directly from her. I don’t low if you can fix a person like her. She lives off of popcorn, infrequent showers, and constantly on one drug or the other. This girl really is a bomb decorated in white lacing waiting to detonate. Cooper even told me a story where he encountered demons in her room, pure dark energy hovering over him as he slept next to her in her lair one lonely night.
See, Mira has been in our friend group for a long time, and there’s a strange back story to her and her connection with me, Cooper, and Jerry. We’ve all dated her, been inside her, slept in her room, woke up next to her… felt Love for her. I can’t explain why it isn’t as weird as it sounds to all of us, but each of us have had our own intimate relationship with this woman and moved on with our lives like passing glances from strangers. There’s oceans of beauty inside her, but she doesn’t see that in herself like we do.
Bean Curd. The music in this place always makes me feel so sleepy. We eat awesome shrimp tempura sushi. Cooper gets the all-you-can-eat lunch buffet. I order vegetable lo-mein and a vessel of hot tea for us to share. We’re laughing at Cooper’s jitters, he’s straight up bouncing up and down in his booth telling stories like a little ball of pure energy. We talk of mushroom trips, Gods, ancient voices, where we’re going to end up on the paths we’re following.
He wants us to do the same drug tonight but his dealer, Will, can’t get us more shroomies at the moment so i explain to Coop that it’ll be fine if him and Jerry eat acid while i eat the rest of my orange chocolate shroom candy. We finish up and go to the counter to pay contemplating how to plan our night. Oh lord, that cute girl with the thick black glasses at the check-out. Every time i go in there i’m drawn to her, she looks so interesting and always has that perfect inviting smile on her face… (daydreaming)
Okay. Enough of that. Back to Jerry’s! Or rather leaving Jerry’s mother’s crib. We listen to intense metal (the Afterimage, Structures, Volumes, Adaliah) on the way to Will’s pad to pick up their “mental enhancement pills!” Somewhere outside of Pittsburgh we roll up to his house, walk up to the door and go straight down to the Grateful Dead covered basement walls where this group of guys spend their time delivering conscious altering pieces of matter to other local humans, an interesting setup for them. Will is super chill, lower range voice, deep. Possibly from the green balloons he keeps filling up with whip-its in his back room cloaked by hippie beads as he keeps popping in and out downing the chemically altered air into his body from that stretchy piece of plastic.
“I’ve been dealing since i was 14,” he tells us. Only in his Lower twenties now so there’s a long life of selling drugs still to come for this man. He’s got a jar of pure moonshine sitting on the table, tells Cooper to drink some. Hesitant at first, he takes a nice sized gulp of the ever-clear liquid encased in glass as it bubble up with a quick shake. This shit is pure. Will’s two stoned buddies on the couch next to us smirk at each other as they sip their freshly made tea. “Let out a loud yell man,” Will tells Cooper as the distortion established on his face is one that indicates a small fire burning from deep within his chest. “I can feel it moving through my veins already!” Cooper exclaims after letting out a nasty scream.
Will brings out this hand crafted wooden box with trippy designs all over it and opens it up. The bottle of LSD is revealed. “How many you guys want?” he asks. “Just two,” i calmly reply. “I’m eating mushrooms later while Cooper and our other friend drop the acid. I don’t fuck with the LSD.” A silent pause as he drops two drips of liquid onto each colorful sweet-tart on the aluminum foil. “Wait, you’ve never done acid before?” I turn to him, “nope, Never.” He grabs a third sweet-tart, two more drops of LSD, “Here dude. Take this. Eat it now if you want and let your boy drive you home.”
I thought about it. I thanked him, but even if i drop it i’ll wait to do it with everyone else later. I already knew i’d just give it to Cooper, but hey we got 3 treats for $30. That’s not bad at all, they can consider it a gift once we’re all in wonderland later since i’m buying. Upstairs Will gets Cooper blazed on Hash Oil over by the flame of the stove while his sister finished making these beautiful Grateful Dead Dancing Bear cut out decorations. The camo bear was everyone’s favorite as we prepared our departure.
What an eventful, highly productive stop at this random house i’ll never see again. Life is so fleeting… the sand always slipping between my fingers before i can fully grasp what’s going on. I can hardly believe any of this. Cooper is clearly high as a kite making pterodactyl noises from the passenger seat as the intense dub step beats boom through our hearts while Knife Party’s “Antidote” mix keeps his brain on high alert dance mode.
This kid’s mood. I’m Loving it! My chameleon Brain is feeding into his worldview, and this place is much happier and far more fun than the eyes i was seeing through with Mira. That dark feeling i get when i’m with her frightens me, repels me and whispers in my ear to RUN! But here with Cooper in this moment, this is where i belong. Right where i need to be, dancing and laughing at my buddy’s random Pterodactyl screeches that keep spouting out of his mouth for God knows what reason with those beet-red eyeballs of his. So glad i didn’t drop that acid and have this blitzed out caveman chauffeuring me around the city.
His paranoia was quite hilarious. Every time we passed a cop he would stop whatever he was reply involved in to watch them in the rearview mirror out of the corner of his eye until they were out of sight like they all knew we had good weed and acid tabs ready to roll, then he’d go back to a fit of robot dance moves and head banging! I’m so glad that i’ve denied all the chances i’ve had to smoke lately because that paranoid “everybody knows” type of feeling is a hundred times worse with me. Marijuana and I’s relationship fell apart years ago and we are no good for each other anymore.
We stop at the grocery store near the old McMurray house on Thomas Rd. Man I miss that place… the memories… the Loft… my friends… I’m walking fast and Cooper is following me like it’s his job since his concentration is single-focused, limited on my objective which was to grab fresh lemons and oranges to brew my mushroom tea later, and possibly to potentiate their acid trip.
Pretending to throw items off the shelves at Cooper, spinning gracefully when no one is looking, weaving in and out of aisles at high speeds… he’s smiling that all too obvious “i’m-totally-baked” smile telling me to stop what i’m doing as he’s trying to fit in and remember how to act around sober society. “I can’t take it!” he quietly yells at me while he’s laughing under his breathe trying not to attract too much attention. Objective complete, fruit acquired. Time to get Jer-Bear.
Jamming to “Pathogen”, we roll up to Jerry’s Mom’s place to get this night moving forward. Nintendo Game-Cube in hand, Salvador Dali books, tons of video games, movies, and his 160 gig iPod filled with Super-Jerry-Tunes built up over years of listening to all kinds of music, we were ready! Finally on the road to Jerry’s dad’s house. We were getting ever closer to salvation, freedom from our 9 to 5 lives, craving the mental getaway hiding inside these little magical pieces of matter.
His dad leaves to go out and spend his time drinking at the bars like usual. I prepare my lemon mushroom chocolate tea, which doesn’t taste as good as it sounds, Yuck! The orange outer shell the bakers decided on smells like pure vomit and stomach acid. I down my tea with half of the chocolate. It’s 7:30 Pm. The night begins.
Up in the attic things are feeling pretty awesome pretty fast. “Hello There Mushrooms!” i think to myself in my head asking for them to give me a positive trip tonight. Black lights on, music soothing our neurons, “Guys. Now would be a good time to drop that acid… I’m already feeling it.” Jerry grabs half of a sweet-tart (it’s his first trip since his acid-induced breakdown a year and a half ago), Cooper takes a full candy and Jerry’s other half. Our spaceship has been fully prepared and we’re blasting off together. No stopping us now.
The robot paintings with the LSD flowers feeding the smaller plants beneath them with their illuminated love are wiggling all over the walls, vining up the darkness and putting on a magnificent show for me. The word “HAPPINESS” pops out in its fluorescent color scheme as my eyes move to Anthony Green’s lyrics on the top of the wall, “I was awake all the time,” even the spaced out phrase on the ceiling, “The Dullness of Existence,” filling my hollow brain. I am a ghost in this place, peacefully observing their artistic masterpiece that’s come to fruition over all these years of creatively dabbling with these bottles of liquid color. I had never put a single scratch on those walls, but i had been there plenty of times, always a passive observer. A metaphor reminiscent of how i spend my life.
I turn to Jerry, “…i require a paper… and a pen… i think… haha…” We run downstairs as if on a special ops mission and end up back where we started quicker than i could comprehend. I zone out on the paper, doodling lines as new possibilities reveal themselves in the place between the pen and the paper. Absorbed in my own mind as the world the guys are experiencing becomes beautiful background noise to my playful sketching. Their presence is filled with love, influencing me as we all zone out into our own mental spaces with The Sound of Animals Fighting filling our heads, “This test is worthless. It forms without a pattern but that’s reasonable. It forms without a pattern, without reason.”
Every now and then we come colliding back together for a nice hard laugh as Cooper pisses out the attic window worried that the neighbors might witness a midnight penis flopping around the cold winter air. Me and Jerry can’t stop laughing! “Is that really happening right now?” The humor in this situation. Seriously what is happening? Jerry looks over at me with an odd squeamish look on his face, “i think i’m going to throw up guys.” The beers he downed earlier to make his pre-blastoff jitters disappear wasn’t his best idea. This is the first time he’s re-explored the LSD-mindset since he abused it over a year ago and ended up needing psychotherapy and a mental hospital to calm his broken, “everyone-is-out-to-get-me” whispers and secret underlying meanings to every sentence he interpreted from his “friends” that he didn’t really believe were his friends anymore.
I understood the reasoning, but i figured it was a bad combo. With his head out the only window in the room Cooper blurts out, “i’m not feelin’ too good either guys.” His turn is up and out goes the half-digested beer splashing on the concrete steps two stories beneath our dwelling. They both instantly feel better and are noticeably high-spirited after getting the alcohol out of their systems. We go back to laying around the room hoping that no one steps on the sidewalk under that window where all their body fluids are building up. Back to our own little worlds singing whatever songs decide to play in Jerry’s shuffled “tripping” playlist.
Jerry’s attention floats over to me in my chair, “dude, i feel like whatever you’re drawing over there we’re going to sell for a million dollars. It looks pretty crazy from where i’m sitting.” His words sound metallic, I’m completely absorbed in what’s popping out of my hand onto the paper, restructuring the black ink on to the white pages in some pretty wild shapes/monsters. I am no artist in any way, but the contents of my brain never cease to amaze me when i play this game with the paper. Totally in my element, the magic seems ever-flowing as these strange fish patterns jump off of me while the room shakes and grows larger then smaller in little swirly patterns to the beat of “Night of the Pencils” by Tubelord singing, “Let’s spend the rest of summer stoned, And we’ll wake up for the winter without the memory of the sun, And there’ll be nothing to moan about.”
The magic leaves me. A break is needed and i am sad at its departure. Eating the other piece of my chocolate, Jerry and I are dumbfounded by the extreme clarity and multi-dimensionality of the sound coming out of these two shitty low-priced computer speakers on the ground, “How are these two little black objects producing the sound of a large concert hall from that thin cable attached to that electronic device in your hand?!” I can not figure it out, but the music is crystal clear, consuming us and making us move with it as it entangles with our awareness.
Cooper drops the last full acid candy and is over on the mattress by himself singing the Animal Collective’s tunes from the Merriweather Post Pavilion album, “I don’t mean to seem like i care about material things, Like a social status, I just want four walls and adobe slabs, for my girls!…” he’s harmonizing beautifully, his blonde curly poofy hair bouncing like the summer sun as he takes the form of an energetic child bursting with infinite amounts of energy burning inside him. The image sticks with me, makes me smile. His happy vibes so pure in their unknowing glow.
Enter Shikari comes on, “Insomnia” the live version from a show in Brixton, London. It felt like that moment was purely captured within the recording and we were re-living the concert experience with the screaming crowd in the background! Cooper and I are going nuts pretending to play the drums and sing the melodies in our head voices. Jerry’s historically laughing at us, “you guys are losing it right now.” The head banging continues until the last note is screamed and we instantly go back to chill made at the changing of the tune still emotionally soaring.
Swirling around beings, fish, and visions of a peaceful future i am overcome with beauty.There Exists a World Split Between Love & Lies, Yet i find Myself Somewhere in the Middle.
My sketches are complete. Obsessed with the idea that we are all God’s ourselves with equal parts heaven and hell living between a world of love and lies, i contemplate if we truly choose to see what we want to see in this Reality or if it is possible to fix a broken “vessel” as Jerry has been referring to our bodies all night. “These vessels are just not efficient for this world. We need new vessels, these vessels are outdated.” Vessels, vessels, vessels.
Cooper’s new girlfriend’s vessel calls him in a panic. Her friend got caught underage drinking and went to jail for the night. Carson got away with quite an incredible tale to tell as i listened from the corner of the room. Her and her friend, both 20 years of age, already drinking, and fake I.D.’s enter a bar where they get served. There’s some “sign-up here and win prizes” type of raffle going on for a big vacation prize so they put their names in the bucket. Well it just so happens that “Carson Faith” gets called for the grand prize! Exciting right? Yeah totally thrilling until Carson pulls out her fake identification card with a completely different name on it.
The bar tender says they’re going to be in some pretty big trouble for this so they scram out the back door. A cop just happens to already be on the outside of the joint as the manager yells to grab them! He gets Carson’s friend as she sails freely into the night, now on the phone communicating this whole mess to us through Coopers cellphone as Jerry keeps going, “Did you tell her about your fart yet?” laughing to himself in the background as Cooper is telling him to shut up about it.
I’m starting to come down pretty quickly, getting bored of their conversation and damn near baselining already while Cooper’s still looking at his pupils in the mirror on our way downstairs to take a quick walk in the outdoors of good old Muse to get away from that smoke-infested room. I run to my Jeep, grabbing the only thing inside that seems to matter to me at this particular moment of unmanageable hunger, my leftover vegetable Lo-Mein from the Chinese Restaurant!
I was so bummed out at not having any more shrooms to scarf down after hitting my peak. I could have sat there drawing for all of time in that creative state of mind swimming through my subconscious caverns of hidden mind-gems, but those feelings were well into the past as i chose to satisfy my gnawing hunger with these tasty cooked noodles. I detached the Chinese take home box it was in so the white cardboard could become my instant plate once that little metal hanger was rid of, and there sat a perfectly boxed shape of what appeared to be human intestines in front of me. “Fuck it,” i thought. These are going to taste scrumptious no matter what kind of animal insides they resembled.
Satisfied, we went back to the attic. Cooper continued to play the Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time on the old TV in Jerry’s room while i was slowly drifting off to sleep. My nose started acting up from all their cigarette smoke and Mira’s annoying attitude already texting me bullshit. The rainbows and closed eye visuals were over. The dripping liquid becoming unbearable as we made a full transition back to Reality.
This bag of plain leaf had been sitting in my closet drawer for a while since i last used it, waiting for me to re-examine its potential. The smoke from the pipe was harsh. I can not recall when i lay my head back on to the soft comforter of my bed, but i had been lying there for quite some time! I had let myself fall asleep in that waking dream of hypnagogic twisting images. They kept repeating so matter of factly that there are surely two of me out there, the one i currently am and the cartoon version of me (the inverted carbon copy), so i must pay attention and learn from my opposite how to not be so serious as i can be far too uptight about myself. There was a life for me waiting in Cartoon Land filled with triangles, masks, and laughter, but i must complete this stage of the program before moving on to the next level of existence.
i was so fearful of those cartoons shattering the reality i’ve accepted as my tiny human life working in the gas industry out on the oil rig doing my human thing, but instead they looked at me and laughed, “Go ahead… believe it, there’s nothing wrong with being human. It’s fine, we will not judge or blame you.. but we will laugh as we please for we find humor in everything 3-dimensional. Have you forgotten that this is the land of the Circus? The local carnival is always working it’s magic at this hour on this side of the zipper, and you’ve clearly forgot that this was just an amusement park ride. Laugh at yourself, for the Cartoon you continues… “
i recall that telephone tower signal extending from the top side of my cranium. The tingling plastic-y sensations overtook me and slightly cut every shape into tiny triangles, blocks, the basics of visual perception (cones and rods). I could not focus on anything else but the little people/beings entering the hole i had opened up at the top of my head. They were flooding in there at hyper speed, running around, activating my Dream senses.
My physical body stayed attached to the bed underneath, fixated on the ceiling as i lay back further into the warm sheets, feeling my astral body peel away from the physical plane of motion. This was meant to be. Activation of my second body. I can float away into other Dimensions at will once i am accepted by Lady Salvia, Ska Pastora, “Eyes of the Shepherdess” i know this to be true. My closest plant ally will help me traverse her body as she fully integrates into my DNA, as the molecules within my brain make friends with her Salvinorin A compounds, we will re-evaluate the human condition and bring to surface our most forgotten memories that lay beneath deadened leaves.
Slicing is the physical sensations brought about by the use of Salvia Divinorum in which you physically FEEL the lines/grids of the universal matrix that you’re trapped between as your molecules disassemble themselves into two dimensional revisions of your three dimensional body, cutting through you in the distance behind our little television show’s pixelated blocks that we’re so accustomed to tuning in to.
i had seen hundreds of human beings climbing my visual field, they made up my body and my reality when zoomed in upon their nature, they were absolutely everywhere, looking at me, climbing over and under each other to reach the top of this game we were playing, but in all seriousness there was no peak to their efforts. There was no summit to achieve victory over or any true objective to their movements because they were merely climbing all over each other making their own mounds of human waste stacking upon themselves causing their own mountains of shit to build up and rot. There was no mountain range, no light at the end of the tunnel, no feeling or emotion, just endless pointless movement, struggle, actions motivated by fear. The blocks of our reality feel this, are influenced by our global collective state of mind, even they are aimlessly running around without thinking about the impact of their movements upon the greater reality they directly and unknowingly impact.
Within this Dream they communicate. A land made of gel that can be morphed into any image it desires. A place of pure thoughts, vibrations, language, this is where Salvia takes you. (to the realm of possibilities) Close your eyes and forget about yourself for a few minutes to remember just how big this universe is and how small it is at the same time when we’re limited to one set of eyes.
This tool is here for our creative intelligence to play with. An instant Waking Dream for those of us who have forgotten how to navigate in the Astral Realm. Another tunnel down the Rabbit hole to reinstate the mystery. To relive the dream within a dream.
The adventures of one man within the void of the universe exploring spirituality, entheogens, dark desires, and the secrets behind the veil of being human.
The robot paintings with the LSD flowers feeding the smaller plants beneath them with their illuminated love are wiggling all over the walls, vining up the darkness and putting on a magnificent show for me. The word “HAPPINESS” pops out in its fluorescent color scheme as my eyes move to Anthony Green’s lyrics on the top of the wall, “I was awake all the time,” even the spaced out phrase on the ceiling, “The Dullness of Existence,” filling my hollow brain. I am a ghost in this place, peacefully observing their artistic masterpiece that’s come to fruition over all these years of creatively dabbling with these bottles of liquid color. I had never put a single scratch on those walls, but i had been there plenty of times, always a passive observer. A metaphor reminiscent of how i spend my life.
Cristoff McGroff 