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naked chicks galore


haha! made you open up one of those BORING shroom stories. no nakedness, you silly horny monkey.

Stories and observations written while on shrooms:

This is the story of a dot:
I exist in stillness.
There are directions extending far into the reaches of space, and I am one of many centres.
No frequencies travel within me.
I feel pressure from all sides, yet I am indestructable.
I am impenetrable.
Nothing compells me.
I reach no limit.
I am restricted.
I am not alone.
I am infinite.
There is We.
United, We are distorted.
We become an interpretation.
I am not aware.
My surroundings are gradually closing in on me because they’re not even there.

- Everything is becoming more and more condensed. The air we breathe is changing. Air is becoming liquid, liquid is becoming solid, solid ….. hmmm, ..perhaps solid is becoming air.
- I can’t move. There’s no difference between one position and another. Each of these motions are so minor and insignificant. I feel SOMETHING but it feels so distant and unclear. Fuzziness has taken over.
- The snow and freezing winds and the lights and the slow traffic and the obscure places of warmth have turned this atmosphere into a kind of urban wonderland. The first snowfall always emerges as something forgotten and unfamiliar.
- Coffee and Brittney Speares are blaring at us from every direction. We can’t escape it. Damned suggestive powers at work.
- Every single sound, every wave of disruption in existence is a music, all at its own pace. At times, it is synchronized into something pleasing to whatever receives it.
- Ever since we began, we’ve been eating. Somehow, pizza has become the most common and convenient combination of our chosen food groups. Over all this time, why have we only come across this in the past century?

Summary of events of the tripp written after being on shrooms:

greetings. This tripp began simply enough: I get off school, go to my buddy’s place to smoke some marijoowanna, and what do I see but a giant bag of shrooms on the table! He offers some (he and another had taken some a coupla hours ago, which means if I take some now, I will peak two hours later than them. I hate when things aren’t coordinated dammit), and I didn’t even have to consider anything. There are shrooms available = I will munch on some shrooms. Who cares what else I have to do today.

After spending some time staring at the pretty colours and giggling for a bit, I am given a roll of thin, transparent tape and told to find the end. It becomes a very challenging task. I turn it around and around for a few minutes, then think: ‘once I find it, does this mean I’m going to be taped up with it?’ I am reluctant, but I can’t help it. I must find out where the tape came from, and what its purpose is. It turns out the bringer of the tape intended for himself to be taped. Under his instruction, I taped drumsticks to his head and turned him into a sort of mummy, or perhaps a caterpiller in a cocoon. He remains this way for about three hours, making bizarre noises, pretending to be a new species that must learn to walk and talk and eat, etc. And he communicates with other life forms by way of the antennae on his head. Eventually we jam a tube from a waterbong into it’s mouth and figure he’s learned all he needs to know.

Then we leave the monster behind and go exploring into the vicious, cold outsideness where all the people are. our mission is to order a pizza. We walk down the sidewalk and feel about twenty feet tall and everyone’s staring at us with wide eyes, and it ain’t just paranoia, oh no my friend, it’s superparanoia! Don’t know if we can handle it. The Pizza Pizza is so orange and the lady behind the counter is so tiny and skeletal and creepy. It comes time to pay, but I notice there is no money in my wallet. After maybe five minutes of confusion, the creepy lady pulls out the Interac machine, and all is well. Bank machines keep getting smaller and smaller. Soon they’ll probbly be installed in those nasty cellphones and paper money will cease to exist. And then we’ll all have computer chips in our heads for the purposes of communication and money transfers. We are reaching the age of electronic telepathy!

We sit in the smoking room of a Coffee Time for a bit, and notice that coffee is depicted in every piece of art on the walls (even on the wallpaper!). Seems a little desperate. What am I here for if not coffee?

Later we go back and find the monster asleep on the floor. It continues to mutate as we eat.

Then we decide to watch the Phantom Menace, and I realized that I don’t hate that movie as much as I thought. It does indeed have something to say.
Jar Jar has no humility (if we, as human beings had no humility, we would be extremely annoying as well. That’s the whole point!),
the jedis embody the very essence of focus,
and the modern stereotypical accents (the Viceroy sounding french, Watto sounding like a surly russian, the pod race announcer sounding like an american car race announcer, etc.) mock “modern” culture and society.

As the tripp winded down, I noticed that each and every mushroom tripp (no matter how simple or seemingly uneventful) is unique in some way or other.

(other entry: level 3: “Soul Rhetoric”)

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