1stHOUSEof REMBRANDT

Though i formed a mild interest, i had never really bothered to look for them before. Of course, i speak of cubensis. Perhaps i am not acquainted with the proper circle of "friends" through which they often flow? Being a skeptic does not help the effort, because i never valued my Intent to find the right dealers as logical, rational...
...the reasons {you could ask}??
i'm sure it's an irony with which a good handful of you readers are akin: in this "home of the free" {us.of a} drugs can seem so rampant in particular areas, while a treasured commodity in others. For all the desire a person may have to acquire, the hoops one has to jump through in order to score a *decent* high REALLY don't feel worth the headache.
-but hey, enough of my banter...on with the story...

The time came when my lover {and an additional travel companion} and myself set off for the Wonderful hub of Europe: Amsterdam. Lord, was i anxious for weeks before our departure! We three enjoyed the exquisite grasses which various coffeeshops had to offer {it's been decided that our utmost favorite was "Stone's Cafe"}. Halfway through the vacation, it was time for the trip to begin: after examining various smartshops, the two of us decided upon a suitable buy. The quirky young woman described to us for nearly twenty minutes how much we'd enjoy these Ecuadorians that we'd just purchased. i must say that i wasn't honestly concerned about anything adverse that might possibly happen. Mind you, i'd dropped many sickly dirty doses of acid about two years prior, so was mentally prepared, even anxious for the comparative ease with which a shroom trip could be self-manipulated and more enjoyable.

The next morning, we agreed to meet in DamSquare to begin the adventure. After waiting endless moments for the third in our party to arrive, the two of us ate our share a bit prematurely. After all, he was only fifteen minutes behind us, stumbling toward our place of seating through a dense sea of beautiful people drifting about in the square. Needless to say, the environment there is incredibly breathtaking, even sober! This is once again, by comparison to a seemingly desolate and dry BURNING {even as we speak} Colorado.
In any event, we wandered the streets whilst ignoring the time and anticipation of the journey to come. i believe it's better that way--to let all feelings come when and as they may, as a substitute for waiting upon a stomach full of nothing but those fresh and delicious little godsends. The first noticeable signs told me that we were streaming downhill like some mass of liquid bodies, all people with their own courses, but surging the streets together in a collection all the same. As if all one entity but with numerous legs, like many centipedes walking different sides of the streets we trod. I'll never forget seeing a vast horizon of nothing but bobbing heads, up and down and up with each step.... but we eventually broke our path and wandered until we found ourselves in an open market. To many merchants with various wares, it must seem a mundanity of sorts, day in and day out they all strive to sell. To us however, it felt the most wonderful and central space in which to be, timeless. Oh so many colors flooded our eyes! Even the most useless metal junk that was being peddled in a few lots took form as ingenious little creations that told so much about the past that they had survived, with wear and varnish.
We never bought anything there or then, save for one rasta-type bracelet. The state-of-mind doesn't allow it, i believe. It's the same scenario with traveler photography; the whole time i had was nagging myself in the back of my consciousness to preserve memories by taking pictures, but i was too overwhelmed. I construed it as being almost pornographic and perhaps even wrong to be snapping so many photos at a time like this, but rather i should enjoy this unique time and place for what it is! Beside, i've heard of people that photo during a trip and can never remember or understand the blurred images afterward. I can only kick myself now.

Next stop: the Rembrandt House.
comments = mindfuckingly amazing.
What a mind-job, to think that you're occupying the same space where the great master slaved on so many canvases. The paintings that it housed were all magnificent, and i remember getting my first intense visuals of the day whilst gazing upon them. They all had such intense depth, layer upon layer upon layer, all of which were bleeding emotion as well as their colors, one behind another. I might have just stood there staring catatonic if the other two hadn't dragged me into another room to continue. The upstair rooms housed many a sculpture, all of which looked claymation and lifelike, as though they would jump off their stands and run short distances. Also, Rembrandt's private collections were hanging from the ceilings in the attick. Perfectly preserved caimen and other reptilians pressed down on me in a way that wasn't hostile, but only so they might let me feel their rough texture melting onto my own flesh.

We soon left, about to peak, and walked what seemed like miles until we boarded a canal-tour boat. The amber glassed top complimented the mirror that we sat right next to in the rear of the boat. Watching the water was soothing, though i couldn't tell half of the time if i was looking out through the glass upon the actual water, or through the mirror on my left-hand side. At a point, i looked directly at my reflection and it faded completely away so that i might see through myself to the view of the canal. Sounds nearly vampiric, no?

Hours later into the afternoon, we stopped at a coffeeshop to have a calming toke. Having been far down off of our trip, it sounded like a good idea at the time, but i only laugh at that decision now. After taking only two or three great big tokes, i called it quits as i began to choke on the last one. Our friend left toward the blacklight bathroom, and remained in it for what seemed to me like a half-hour. During this time, i took more than my share of crazy thoughts, and heard completely distorted audio that i couldn't comprehend. There was a wooden hippy daisy and a sunflower on the windowsill which were grooving aggressively to the ambient music, both which continued to grow to the point that seemed ridiculous considering the tiny little pot that contained them. i chuckled nervously at this, and by doing so i felt that i drew a negative attention from everyone in the cafe in a single instance. For five seconds it lasted, but they all quickly ignored me and went about their business.... all but ONE creepy but entirely fashionable woman.

I could not put my finger on it at first, but then soon realized that she MUST be Annie Lennox!! I instantly became very paranoid, as i felt that she was trying to read my mind and steal my thoughts so that she might use the material to produce and release a twisted new album. She stared at me through darkly tinted lenses, calmly smoking her cigarette as i perspired profusely and lost all calm. Even though i turned my eyes in the other direction, i felt the very WEIGHT of her unappreciative gaze upon me and even saw her lips drawing on the cigarette through the corner of my arcing and bent vision. Our friend returned from the bathroom babbling something about "how cool it was under blacklight to be pissing milk", and i interrupted him to mumble something like, "i've felt the sickness... can we leave?"

We gathered what things we were carrying and i stood entirely too fast, nearly losing myself in a headspin. Stumbling out onto the street i realized that my eyes must have been very dilated, because it wasn't long before i lost all concept of colour to the afternoon sunlight. I recall feeling my legs moving beyond the pace of running, but visually we were moving in dramatically slow motion. All of the passersby and other features on buildings i could only see as opaque blackness against an impenetrable background of whiteness.... everything looked like a liquid crystal display, if that helps describe it...
Boarding a city bus that traveled rocket-fast, we headed toward the direction of the hotel. Along the way, i could feel all of my extremities being 'pulled through' the rigid brick buildings and other textures which i saw trailing past us on the streets. As a person, my body was seated looking wildly out the window of that bus, but since it was traveling so fast, my spirit had yet to catch up and was chasing us through the town. Getting off at a premature stop, we walked the remaining streets and through a beautiful park so that i could come further down before ending the evening at the hotel.

That's it. This account was of my first shrooming experience {if you had the patience to make it this far} !!

Since, i've decided upon my return to the states that the weeds available domestically are an insult to the grand experience they are capable of, as they are in Amsterdam.... hence, i can no longer belong to the group of these domestic pot-heads.
Mushrooms on the other hand, i won't soon forget. I've taken up a healthy new hobbie of farming.

...May you all find SOME path toward enlightenment and uniquity, and always FEAR the unspeakable horrors of becoming another carbon-copy degenerate. . .