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I was completely in love, willing to die for or suffer incredibly for whatever they might want. A rush of warmth and emotion, spiritual and physical attraction, a wanting of oneness, a feeling of already oneness. When I looked at someone they were everything. They were beautiful, breathtakingly so. They were all things to me. The waitress was Eve, Helen of Troy, all women of all times, the eternal female principle, heroic, beautiful, my mother, my sisters, every woman I had ever loved. Everything good I had ever loved. Simon was Adam, Jesus, Bob Dylan, my father, every man I had ever loved. Their faces glowed with incredible light. It was impossible to focus, to hate, to fix. They were so mobile, all moving, all changing. They were whatever I needed and more. I loved them utterly.

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Feelings of warmth and strength make me weep for joy. I can feel the root tentacles being pulled through my whole body: out it comes, more and more. I am ecstatic as the peace passes up my throat, over my mouth, and through my nose to the top of my head. Ecstasy. That's what all the rushes of fear and pain were. Just getting free of the shit. Nothing but nothing is going to turn me around. Pain? Fear? Fuck 'em, this shit has got to go. I've seen heaven and nothing's gonna turn me around. What is that wants to turn me around and make me crawl back into believing all the sham about pain being unavoidable, utopia impossible? I'm a freight train, baby, don't give me no side track, no. I want your main line, baby. Climb aboard the Eden Express. This train, this train is comin' through. This train is bound for glory.

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By this time the voices had gotten very clear. At first I'd had to strain to hear or understand them. They were soft and working with some pretty tricky codes. Snap-crackle-pops, the sound of the wind with blinking lights and horns for punctuation. I broke the code and somehow was able to internalize it to the point where it was just like hearing words. In the beginning it seemed mostly nonsense, but as things went along they made more and more sense. Once you hear the voices, you realize they've always been there. It's just a mtter of being tuned to them.

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For one reason or another sex as I had known it was no longer possible. ... So for compensation, severance pay, or whatever, I got astral sex. ... I was electric with sexuality. Breathing gave me orgasm upon orgasm. I can't begin to describe what dancing with angels was like. Occasionally the puritan in me would try to worry about having to pay for this some day, but the pleasure was so all-engulfing there was very little room for second thoughts.

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