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Saturday Cartoons

Graduation night, June 6, 1998.

Graduation night, June 6, 1998. I was surrounded by most of my loved ones, as we celebrated the end of our careers at Lincoln East High School. My first trip begun slowly at first; I just noticed a change in my emotions. I began getting very giddy, and childish. I would laugh at anything. There was a battery-powered flower which sings and moves when touched. It was hysterical. Eventually, I began to see geometric shapes appear in my eyes. Soon, I began going in and out reality. I would notice I was "gone" just as I was coming out of it. The colours were the most beautiful sight. When I would be "awake," my friends would turn in to cartoons. One was at first a cartoon bulldog wearing a cop uniform, then he turned in to the "Evil villian" with the tall, black hat, tall, skinny body, wearing a long trench coat, and a small sleek moustache. He was in black-and-white while he was the villian. Another friend turned into Jabber Jaw, the shark. One of my good female friends turned in to a small, brown deer, with huge, beautifully cartoonish brown eyes. Another friend became "Grace," the representation of the power of the Dharma. Eventually, I couldn't sit still. I would move around, and then stiffen up like a board. I would walk around talking about wanting to experience everything. While flying, I felt like the smartest person in the world. I had asked a friend to follow me around that evening and act as my dictophone. Later, he said I continuously mumbled about wanting to try everything from "laying in the grass to having sex to playing [my] bass to walking down the street." At one point, I was inside of a TV, looking out from the inside, but not seeing anything but static of dark blue, purple, and various other "static colours." I could feel myself hitting my hands on the screen, trying to brake out. I soon realized I had placed my face in my hands; the TV screen was gone. Hours later, after the party had moved to a safer location, I began to get very thirsty, and thought during one of my trips, that I had done Coke, because I felt powder under my nose. I became very nervous, but it turned out to be my beard and moustach. Although my trip had a rough ending, over all it was amazing. My memory of it is nothing like the real experience. I can't imagine the colours I saw while flying, nor the sights. My trips since then have been equally amazing, though I'm happy to say free of any discomfort. I don't thhink there are words to describe what I saw and experienced while gone, except "religious," but even that doesn't do it justice. Fly high, people.

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