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High Mountain Compost
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The Contemplatve Man

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My first experience w/ mushrooms began w/ a calm anticipation of the drug. I had become enthused about mushroom ingestion--(well, I originally opted for LSD, but found it hard to come by)--while watching the movie "Natural Born Killers." This is not to say I was looking for some forgotten-middle-America, abused-white-trash-psychoerotic holiday, but that my thoughts became cajoled by the film into wanting to break away from the here and now, and turn towards the there and then. From the time I split the half-eigth with a good friend of mine, it took almost a full hour for them to hit me in proper. An acquantaince had been cultivating a particularly non-mind-fucky strain of cubensis, and once they began to flow through me, the normal amount of mind-fuck I have and hold was notably reduced if not eliminated. A general feeling of well-being and stylish existence; a notion of sheer ability and facility within one's own body. What a brand of chittery, self-satisfied benevolence, and all the while without passing or disturbing ideas and completely without visuals.
After a few hours of strutting around smoking cigarettes and venturing repeatedly into the kitchen, we took a car ride and smoked some marijuana. It was here that I took on a slightly more troubled mindset. The car and the outside world had not become distinctly menacing nor grim nor cheesy nor any other thing that might bring someone to a very low mental position, but the effects of the marijuana, I think, were being exaggerated by the mushrooms, and I have never really been on speaking terms w/ weed, sufficeth to say. The effects were not altogether disagreeable, however.
Here I began to get visuals when looking out on streetlights and the lot. Crystalized lights began to slowly pour outwards from their sources, and the spots left over from those made deep colours and beaded floor-lines when viewed aginst dark backdrops. It was then that I began to toy with the idea of making an album as a semi-tribute semi-unspoken satirical slander of the concept of and relation to the Mountain. I'd have to say the most memorable part of that night was the short while that I thought of writer Hunter S. Thompson and all the attributes commonly tagged to his person. And I began to think about how his actively aggressive and solitary contemplative sides co-existed w/ seemingly effortless effectiveness; that these things either came as the result of a highly examined life or raw indiferrence for his world; and the concept of man vs. icon and conception of that man played itself out in orange and yellow andvertisements and posters in front of my mind's eye. The man, whose ONLY desire was to live and let live, only perceiveable by the way the paper cupped his form as he desperately tried to tear his way out of it all.

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