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Stained Glass+Tricks

My first time on the mush-mush.

My first time on the mush-mush. I was an 17 year old high school junior in a quiet mountain town. Ate 1/8 of Liberty Caps on the way to pick up friend's sister at middle school dance (with the help of 7-11 Gulpster); finished the chewed, tastless mass inside my former place of education.

Returned to friend's home 30 minutes after starting to eat the dry, blueing stems and caps. Had to sneak in back door to avoid confrontation with parents; began playing pool. When my first turn rolled around, it hit me. As a striped ball (I believe it was the nine) moved from my cue, its path became disrupted and incongruent. Flashes of color surround me...Escape to the bedroom.

Entering the peak of the trip, another friend arrived, with a special rock for my viewing. My eyes became fixated upon the tiny stone, collecting energy from its every pore. BURST! The energy of the rock hit me, piercing my temples, sending electricity through my veins. Powerful feeling of connection with the stone filled me. I looked away in disbelief. I looked again at the rock...wait...same connection. OUCH! The field of energy was too great for my unopened mind. I put the rock down, opting for less intense distractions.

Fun with the black light and strobe light, before, mistakenly, allowing my friend the keys to my vehicle. We drove, seemingly at the speed of light, through fields of brilliant colors. We arrived at a small pond, where we would meet another companion.

Out of the car. The car disappeared in the dark, unforgiving sky. I was alone. They had left. And then they reappeared again. This went on for, I believe, about 10 minutes. Finally, I was allowed reentry into my car, and we were off to another friend's house.

Arriving, James and I snuck to the door, and entered. Girls all around. Good vibes. My vision was distorted by a tunnel of stained glass, colored in the entire spectrum. It was peace. Singular peace. Fun with happy dog, Whitney. I pulled the rolling machine from my pocket, and began to play in amazement with the device.

A clever story of a live-in cop, and I was in the closet, with wig on. Knocks at the door-panic. Snuck out the back door, down icy stairs, and into cars. Panic upon everyone's faces. We voyaged for what seemed and eternity to another friend's house. I wrote a bail check to a friend, in green, red, and yellow, (still have it in a scrap book).

In the door...In the closet. Visions of blue and red flashing lights all around me. Fear became reckoning. Then a little-amused friend came to my rescue, telling me the truth of my situation. No cops. Safety.

I went on for a few more hours in the dumbfounded, gitty phase of the trip, running through town at 20 degrees in a t-shirt, chatting on the computer, and staring. I attempted to read at the sacred Planet Bean, but to no avail.

Then, it was 4:30 in the morning, and I was drawing on an erasable marker board. Great time.

MRCA Tyroler Gluckspilze
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