The Fabled Psychedelic Experience (Unfinished)

AL
Foreward

It is not my intention to so much write a “book about everything”, or a tome containing information on everything, similar
to data stored on the internet, mostly because it would take too long and would generally be outside the scope of this volume
or what it is about. While references or source texts may have been used, they can just be read, instead of, seemingly,
needlessly regurgitating certain factoids to reiterate the same point here when it is generally there already. In that way, they
are just used, and sometimes quoted, to achieve the effect of a quote. Again, you can read the books or studies for the
information they have that you want to see and know, or just confirm. The fact that that needed to be worded or explained
suggests people would have otherwise used the opportunity to believe anything else, such as the information was made up
or “doesn't count” for anything. Most events this work is concerned about merely highlight the way people tend to think,
especially on a massive scale. This, of course, will go on to highlight the usual complaints people make about the public
school system or mainstream media brainwashing, which is just advertising and the influencing of perceptions.
This book was mostly an experiment. While outside of letters I am known more as a scientist-philosopher, in the art world
I'm more proficient in the role of critic or jester. While spending most of my time doing science, as I did in college at
university, I like to take breaks and explore things outside the realm of it, yet still somewhat related. I don't often step
outside my comfort zone, and am more comfortable as scientist than artist, but the two worlds commonly meet. My
scientific writings and work can be found elsewhere, while this book mainly turned into an autobiography of sorts, or the
personal side of the story, while my next manuscript is a scientific and historical account of literature. People commonly get
this mixed up and think people who talk about science are actually scientists, when they are the ones affixed on the technical
aspect of it, and are mostly humanitarians who practice the softer, social sciences, if any. As such, this book is mostly
closest to things Jack Kerouac has done, such as Vision of Cody. It isn't done in the vein of On the Road or Dharma Bums at
all. The trouble with this approach is that before the decision to take the book in that direction happened, due to external
events, some of it was planned and written already, as a continuation of previous short stories I had written and posted to
challenge myself as a writer in general, but that mostly had to be put to a discontinuation because audiences couldn't tell
what was going on. Some things I had planned were put on hold and some audiences were confused because they thought
the next thing I was going to express was going to be something mathematical or more interesting, but I just hadn't
published those thoughts yet, and so the ultimate value was placed more so on what I had put out, and not what I studied at
university. Jack Kerouac is connected to the psychedelic movement through hippies and the Beats (Beatniks). However, this
connection is vague for historical reasons. For their psychedelic advocate, most people go with Hunter S. Thompson, and
these reasons will be explored later. Both of their stories are similar and deal with being on the road, something the latter no
doubt was inspired by from the former. However, that LSD and other entheogen use is more explicit in Hunter's works is
that they were becoming less novel and more open to the public air, yet still not legal or accepted. The CIA's experiments on
the public came later, in the 60's, while On the Road was published in 1957. Unfortunately, Kerouac would only live a little
more than ten years, passing away in 1969. His partner and driver Neal Cassady would pass away in 1968, a year before
him. He started On the Road in 1951 after collecting material on the road in journeys across America from 1947-1950.
Visions of Cody was written in 1952, in which Cody is the name for Neal and Dean from On the Road, with the surname
Pomeroy, also used in Big Sur, and was intended to be a sequel of On the Road. However, it wasn't so much a sequel as it
was a retelling, as explained by Ginsburg in an intro to the paperback edition. It was compiled so as to be a more abstract
version of On the Road, instead of a straight storytelling. However, we also do know that Jack wrote the original scroll
edition on Benzedrine, which was partly responsible for its style. Benzedrine is meth, and is not psychedelic, but it is used
as a reference for LSD and its state of intoxication, as users sometimes, after the initial sedation, report a “stimulant” like
feel to it, considering the fact that the American name for LSD is METH-LAD. Some other names for it are d-lysergic acid
diethylamide and N,N-Diethyl-d-Lysergamide. Not everyone knows they have been using the original Swiss name since its
debut, as calling it LSD-25 is permissible as a tradition that continues this day. On the Road was also inspired by a drunken
letter Neal sent Jack before they met up. This is one reason why Neal is described as “wired up” or that his driving style was
“mad.” To compare it to the style of On the Road and sometimes Visions of Cody, is to imagine a “mad dash” at the
typewriter. Using philosophy from the Dharma Bums gives an image to the reader of a rat race with some electing more or
less participation in it. Jack was in the market to sell books and tell stories, so that, as a person, one outlet he had was to
write and type out his thoughts, and ideas, about this “mad dash for existence,” in which it is not always done for
affirmation. Since life is about breathing air, there had to be something done in order to figure out what was going on,
whether that be done by talking or writing and typing. As with respecting most fiction writers, their personal background
remains in speculation, for the most part. We do know that telling stories and writing non-fiction are different things, with
value placed on non-fiction by scholars and non-scholars alike. That is the overall connection between Jack Kerouac and the
hippie, or psychedelic/entheogenic, movement. It is indistinguishable from the LSD and mushroom generation. Neal also
drove Ken Kesey's bus Furthur during the Electric Kool-Aid Acid tests starting in 1965, although he didn't drive it on the
way back, and stayed in New York. This provides an overall timeline of that movement up until that point. What Kerouac
did was connect American literature to the English.
The jester concept is something found in and supported by Kesey's Electric Kool-Aid Acid Tests.
One example of why this book, written as a story, was canceled is because of the expectations and the relative
unreasonableness of them. For instance, I decided at the beginning to write a story, fiction in nature. At no point did I agree
to write a “how-to,” especially one that condones illegal activities. That was also a reason for the desired anonymity. Thus, I
decided to just cancel the book instead of giving in to those demands. Just who was I working for, exactly? I know the
answer to that rhetorical question – me. At this point it starts to turn into writing letters to individuals and answering their
personal questions rather than writing what I wanted or needed to. I then have to admit that I want to write what people
want me to write. In the end, it just seems like I had to deal with their ignorance as well as impatience. This is a situation no
one has been in before, therefore, I had no help, and had to figure everything out myself.

Preface

This isn't the book I wanted to write. It wasn't done out of necessity either, like some other works may have been done as so.
This is incomplete so far. It should be continued in another volume or through other series' altogether. Some subject matter
may have been beyond the scope of the overall project or more appropriate somewhere else. That should be talked about
there too. Basically, this might not be the writings to find what you think you're looking for. Any of those will be found in
sequels or other writings, as it mostly would be inspired by real life events the responses would transpire there, and be
written about as well, yet, given or presented as a post or collected work such as this.

“He's just trying to point it out, to laugh at those who are into it by highlighting his superiority for not indulging nor having
to.” “If only that were an appropriate way of putting it.”

As an aside, it had already been mentioned this is essentially an incomplete text. You may find isolated lines here and there
such as the kind similar to: “It could have been intimations that began in the dawn of time. Hunches and annoyances at the
pangs of survival, noticing things until doctrines could be constructed by writing them down, and learning by rote
memorization for applicability.”

Or,

“Maybe all the isolation added up so that his lack of exposure around other people for rather extended periods of time
started to take a more noticeable toll on his brain-mind imagination complex in all these scenarios that could have been
going on.”

Such occurrences are due to the nature of the way the book was written at the time. They might be considered broken
thoughts, a memory jotted down here while promising to finish the train of thought later, et cetera. The passage of time
being unkind can consider them singular thoughts. However, it is entirely possible they were fully fledged ideas that hadn't
gotten fully picked up. The only guarantee is that similar themes will be continued throughout this and other writings, so
that while not directly connected, they discuss similar subject matter. The way some of the phrases were specifically worded
generated nice sounding ideas but may never be able to be reproduced again since they weren't written down as they
occurred.
This might also appear to be a fiction tale mixed with non-fiction. As indicated elsewhere in the text, it originally was a
dissertation type essay wherein the “Beat Generation” style of prose would be researched and examined so as to relate it to
the hippie movement as well as the definition of a hipster. As a result, some parts of the text may mirror or be a reference to
the original Beat writings. It wasn't always clear what they were, however, now, it is more clear. If it seems odd that I'm
talking about this, it is even weirder that I am doing so. People might not understand if it isn't explained, whereas to me, and
the background I have, that takes all the fun away and ruins it. I always thought it was better in a “if you know, you know”
way. But now, everyone wants everything “explained” or spoon fed to them. That isn't to say I'm incapable of “explaining”
anything. The problem goes way beyond that, and, in short,”confidence” does not equate with “explaining” a concept.

Therefore, about halfway through, the “Beat” stuff had to stop, just so it can be explained. It's more than people hanging out
and talking about feelings. It is psychedelic at its core, which is one thing people didn't comprehend. The Beats such as
Kerouac and Cassady used LSD, peyote, and weed. They weren't just alcoholics. That's where my research lead. Just
because I decided to explore the Beats, doesn't mean I do everything they did. Your mileage may vary.

Intro to the 2nd Edition

Viewing reality as a fractal, or in effect the universe as a hologram, is the only thing that one can do, the only step that can
be taken, to ensure this next level of thinking, or the proper way of considering problems in the new era of science.
Basically, it is a paradigm shift. That this is new information is only debatable insofar as it is material that was not widely
known in the popular mainstream consciousness up until a few years ago only, going no further back than twenty years. The
notion of a “paradigm shift” was made popular by Thomas Kuhn in his Structure of Scientific Revolutions (1962) and refers
to a change in main culturally sanctioned beliefs, such as a zeitgeist, translated as the spirit of the times.

Halfway through this I started watching Ancient Aliens properly, on Hulu, while previously having only caught it on
serialized cable television on a few random occasions. Once I found out how similar it was to the material I was seriously
working on, as an academic and without jest or irony, I decided to stop watching it so it wouldn't influence my thinking or
work too much. I had wealth of a year's worth of information to outpour, in which it would be a logical course of action to
then use it as a supplement later on when a dearth approached, near when I was done typing it all out, if ever. Of course,
there would be those critics who would feel it to be in my best interest to go ahead and just watch it, then and there,
officially obviously missing the original point I just made, apparently. I didn't want people who had seen it to think I was
copying it, or that I then integrated their audio-visual work and somehow owe them credit or a reference. No, this was stuff I
was working on since years ago, although some of the referenced work I would go on to use would be associated with some
of those on the show. Either way, I didn't want or need it to influence my thinking too much, for one of the reasons being to
avoid too much comedy or ironic coincidences, whatever the term may be or unintentional interpretations people want to
see for whatever egoistic, selfish, projected reason they could be capable of coming up with. I'd finish what I was doing, and
then binge Ancient Aliens and the rest of it, to avoid confusion.

Fairies [Faerie, Faery] (or the concept of fairies or a fairy) became important to my work, thus, that's why I started
researching more about them, irrespective of any of the fairy tales I read as a kid. Sherlock Holmes was one of the first
English literature series I started to read as a youth, and enjoyed them immensely. It was little coincidence that the author of
those stories and novellas, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, published a work on fairies and whether he thought they existed or not.
He concluded that they didn't, and that he didn't believe in them.

If I had to sum up the main thesis or message, it would be this: the idea that I could have sex with any woman, or that it was
my destiny to, at least having the choice and decision making power. This was something that came to me after I went
through a myriad of experiences, in fact, it was something I thought about after birth, during the earliest parts of my
childhood and growing up. It didn't seem likely which is why the opening up to people didn't always occur, to much
complaint despite whatever the outcome of the interactions would have been, and when either way there were attempts
when they weren't always guaranteed to end flawlessly is when I would have had to determine more so who actually was a
main companion in life, with staying power or a sense of unforgettableness.

Through careful readings of the text, it became clear where any source for other people's arguments were coming from, let
alone where a source of faith can be transcribed. Whether the revolution is really a lie or not has always been up for debate,
and it was just a question of which side who was on, and even what they were fighting about.
This is something I noticed. After, I thought about it daily as effort to bring it into reality. It seemed too good to be true, that
is, the fact that history had recorded all this prophetically already. While it was still my original idea, the notion that there
was support for it already made me feel less alone. Of course, there were still those deniers who work hard to prevent me
from living such a life. History said they would exist in this time too. In other words, essentially, no one is surprised. I have
said all this already, if you've been keeping up with my social media posts, surreptitiously or not. In this way many
developments were happening simultaneously. New ways of looking at the world were unlocked and then realized, as it
came with age and maturity, things typically unable to be grasped while a youth, and allowing your brain to conceive of the
ideas as wisdom gets obtained. In effect, and while it didn't necessarily originally aim to, this book essentially points out the
hypocrisy of man and human beings, both in the past and continuing to this day. There should be a few maxims mentioned
throughout that in keeping in mind will make the believeability of things told throughout here easier to understand how they
occurred or why, and what it may all mean. It is somewhat “the typical” stuff, or the usual things that happen. Example:
most people are not smart, or are dumber than they think and can realize.

There are a number of dubious claims and links that I go in to investigate, some of them being loosely connected. That
therein lies nearly the entire point of this project. I always said, since I was a young child, that things involving white
women would be the best thing ever for me, as in the most pleasurable thing.

I'm going to have to talk about most of the things people will inevitably bring up, their arguments, so to speak, so that it
doesn't, I suppose, seem like I don't know what I'm talking about. If successfully argued through, or debated completely, this
would mean that they didn't know what they were talking about, and so in “provoking a response”, they were actually subtly
asking for help in understanding their question. It became better to put things simply. Implying and not being clear enough
started to become a problem, and then it gets mistaken for uncertainty.

Cats speak in what must be a truthful style, their demeanor always exuding that fashion in which their message or response
gets across. In fact all animals are mostly still the same as they were how we remember them, it's just that they're more like
how they're depicted in fairy tales, partly represented by familiar archetypes. Their feelings can be translated into English,
with their own accent.

Captain Marvel became a title I looked at attaining, or eventually becoming, in a sense. I had to know the history, so in a
sense, it was a long road. Captain Marvel refers to Shazam from DC, and also Marvel's Mar-Vell, its Captain Marvel. It was
only related as being attractive insofar as knowing what everything was, and so it became only knowing what's necessary, or
useful for survival. That would either be different for each person, or in a society determined that a set amount of stimuli is
considered bare minimum for essential living within that person's parameters. If a thing as that is so then everyone would
have the same training.

The argument is that I claim to have come across information suggesting everything has already been known for at least
850,000 years of human society and civilization. The first thing the “pedantic” critic/reader will think of is that that number
sounds outrageous, since modern humans have been around a little longer than 10,000 years, having first appeared that long
ago. Society, culture, and civilization did not appear at first, and took a hundred to a thousand years to develop. And so
came the arts, collective memory, tales from sources of myth and archetypes, and other such things required by a cosmic
unconscious and that contribute towards a field of noospheric entelechy. Otherwise, certain things wouldn't make that much
sense regarding patterns unfolding in this reality.

This is also the story of the “mysterious” “9/11” document that appeared around that time, a few days later, in 2016. It was
posted on the internet. It became about interpreting the story in and of itself or finding more about the author of it and his or
her intentions. It didn't make sense to some people. The facts were this: it was posted as anonymous in document format.
The person who posted it reported it as being from his “friend” or written by “his friend”. The outcome resulted in having
here a reasonably intelligent fellow with excellent grammar and spelling, and all around English, seeing as how it was his
first language and native tongue, be accused of being “less intelligent” than he really were, based on the document. In
school, he got good grades, including in the maths, with P.E. or physical education being one of the other subjects and also
getting good grades in that, as well as computers, and any other subject. He had an expressed interest in science and art,
such as film and literature, fine art and drawing. There was also a liking to music, having studied some “Music
Appreciation” in High School. He then had to take up instruments, seeing if Band was a worthy endeavor, since they didn't
teach it, you had to have already known it before enrolling in High School and taking it there, so later on he used drums at
first before moving into keyboards and electronic music, or instruments to use, being able to playback strings or change the
piano sounds to whatever sound that could be recorded, samples or not, in other words, original sound. All that aside it was
clear he was an intelligent kid, learned, well read, and educated, to say the least. Perhaps, then, the blood of his parents will
be called into question just for some extra possible criticism or skepticism.

He enjoyed reading, not just from having to in school, but to learn more while not on school grounds. He wrote the typical
essays required in English lessons. Dialogue was taught in elementary school, fifth grade, and they were tested on it. In
general, he did not want to be a writer growing up, and never said anything like that or expressed interest. However, he had
taken an interest in the journalistic arts, so as to be able to write non-fiction or any other accounts, and not have the
“creative” pressures forced upon him. He thought about all the fiction writers of days bygone and the present, as well as the
future, and couldn't really see himself fitting in with that crowd. He wondered about traveling and writing some kind of
thing about it. He then thought about reading so much and needing to write as a complementary activity, while not attending
school, outside of the influence of being forced to do so for a good grade. He passed all classes and never got held back,
although witnessed a friend, and neighbor, have that decision executed upon him.

It basically became a conspiracy. Someone wrote a free verse “poem”, or story in a rhyming format, suspiciously in the style
of “Jack Kerouac” and the Beat writers, including William S. Burroughs. There may have been some “Hunter S. Thompson”
influence as well, although as is known his works are written in regular format, with no creative or artistic license, in short,
it isn't “poetry” or music-song like or influenced, just normal prose. If it were written otherwise, there perhaps would be a
different reaction. The fact of the matter is, it took a tone more so imitating what Kerouac did in “Visions of Cody” and “On
the Road”, and possibly attempted to imitate what Burroughs's “Naked Lunch” was like. There was also, perhaps mainly,
essences of James Joyce's “Finnegans Wake”, for good measure, and touches of his other, Irish style books “The Dubliners”,
“Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man”, and “Ulysses”. This, in effect, caused the population or what members of any
audience that did read it, think the person who wrote it was uneducated or really wrote like that somehow. What attests a
difference is that this person's other writings are “normal”, so that an other possibility or option is that the people just didn't
like that work, or most of his others, or weren't into it. It turns out, that he never said he was a writer and only posted the
documents as a joke. The nature of this joke and what it might be will be further explored in this examination. It turned out
to just be something extra, and was more so posted “anonymously” in keeping in the spirit of the joke rather than out of
shame or embarrassment at the quality of the writing, according to him. It can be differentiated, though, in that the author
must have knew, and understood, the “risks” involved in undertaking a project such as this. If it was done to impress
anyone, such as a girl so that he would earn reputation and be someone a broad would like to be seen out in public with, to
know that her affection and attention is captivating an important person, the logic required in order to make that a realistic
goal must have been planning something in advance, to say the least. It also turned out that he had written and/or typed up
documents before this one in question, and that they were written, “in normal style”. They were more non-fiction. He then
knew any criticism someone would generate, in that they would say he only wrote non-fiction pieces because he wasn't
creative, talented, or smart enough to do either fan fiction or a story utilizing dialogue, anything more modern or post
modern instead of like Gulliver's Travels. He had also done some fiction pieces, although he never called himself a
“published author” or a “published writer” - had that actually been a goal he thought worthy of attaining it could have been
accomplished, no doubt. However, he has confided with me that he had been studying to be a scientist, a professional one, at
all, by starting off as some lab assistant once certified. His particular interest was more unusual for a scientist even though
he still had to be well versed in the foundations, the biologies, physics, chemistries, and neurosciences. Then, you could still
be a fiction writer even if mainly a scientist or something else. He thought about all his professors in college and whether
they would write a book or not, it seemed unlikely unless they were really into fiction and stories. Some of them even said
they didn't have enough time and it wasn't worth it to them. Fair enough, because he found himself in a similar boat, and it
didn't seem that worth it. He shouldn't have even said or attempted anything about it in the first place, and just stuck to book
reviews – if anything, if even that, he told me. At that point he felt “qualified” to undertake a creative endeavor such as this,
even if people didn't know about his “prior accomplishments”, in whatever realm. If someone thought that was the only
piece of writing he did or produced, they would think something was wrong with him, is the easiest or fastest way of
explaining it, then again, it was supposed to be anonymous – an anonymous document passed on to him. If he wrote a piece
in “regular format” after that, people would think he “learned his lesson”, or something, and learned better because of their
criticism or their role in it, giving them power in that way, allowing their ego to feed off it. However, thought couldn't
logically be the case. It was only in the expectation of expecting something like that or hoping for it, for whatever reason.
That mode of thinking worked out for them in their own favor. The joke here was that this piece was posted before one that
was written normally, so people were confused about that one aspect, and must have thought “that was how that person
really wrote”, or that it reflected a critical aspect of his brain and how it must function or think, therefore appraising his own
value and worth as a human being using that standard.

It soon become quite apparent that people began to question his very own intelligence and ability to write clear sentences
with no spelling or grammar errors even though he had been doing so the whole time. Thus, the whole thing was ridiculous
that he was in the wrong just because they didn't understand a joke, and were bitter for it, then based their whole life on
trying to get back at him in a myriad of ways. He then eventually was moved out of his apartment into another one in
another town, essentially migrating, and his neighbors at the new location, with its thin walls, basically could be said to
have monitoring ability over him, and could report on his daily activities through rumors. For certain reasons, he didn't care
about them or what they did, and so the opposite of that (coincidentia oppositorum) was just them trying to care more by
getting involved (being nosy, brown nosing). The reality is that they were people with higher thresholds for being unable to
contain excitement. It then became a test to see if he could write dialogue, a skill learned in elementary English lessons. He
could. On the other hand, while he had no more privacy at the new apartment, whenever he wrote, typed, or read, it was
under the inspection of the neighboring unit, as if they could just now “check” to make sure he was literate and there was no
kind of ghost writer of any sort. It made him uncomfortable simply because of those prospects, if it was any other situation,
he wouldn't be bothered, but, as it were, that was not the case, and he had to deal with appeasing their attention spans. He
was someone born in the 90's, and most of the people he was dealing with were simply of a different generation and
geolocation because the internet connected people worldwide, something that probably wasn't really supposed to happen as
suddenly as the effects weren't predicted. He did not want to put on a show, so he delayed writing since it would only be for
the entertainment of the neighbors because the building's walls were so thin. He waited until they left so he could write and
read, having to use the time wisely. Otherwise, as previously said, it was just be for the pleasure of them, and he couldn't
shake the feeling it was a situation almost perfectly designed to allow them monitoring privileges so in the meantime they
can pretend to be smarter than him until actions speak louder than words, or it can be demonstrated for sure, for the last
time, until the romantics would constantly ruin it with their idealized notions of a never ending battle or struggle needing to
be mediated by direct action to mitigate the insecurity that makes them uncomfortable.

The Beats, such as Kerouac, wrote with a sense of music, although, Burroughs did not write about music much. It was
mostly Kerouac who thought of himself as a “Jazz musician with a typewriter”, as that style, not particularly “ of
consciousness”, was done with “a sense of spontaneity”. In fact, that's one origin source of the term “beat”, if you didn't
know what it meant. It has a connotation of “staying on beat”, as in musical notation. It can also mean “beat” as in
“confused”, or lost with no particular answer to something. Those alone are related to the “Beatific Vision” of the Bible and
Old/New Testament.

With Kerouac, the theory of writing is asked how “spontaneous” should a piece of writing be or whether it should just have
the “illusion of spontaneity”, mostly for creative purposes. Burroughs's style of writing, while still “unusual” was mostly
streamlined and rationalized. The Beat Generation is known for being related to hippies and hipsters, from the 50's, 60's, and
70's, and so The Beatles are related, with their infamous LSD usage on an occasion or two, they were thrust into the
relevancy of the “Love Generation” or “Generation of Love”, writing songs about peace and overall “positive vibes”,
although, they were able to poke fun at subjects on some of the ballads they wrote and subsequently performed.

The only problem was, in further keeping along with the joke, he took an LSD approach to it. It was written under the
influence of LSD. The only reason for that seemed to, and actually was, to harness and utilize the power and rhythm of the
Beat writers, most notably “Jack Kerouac”, or perhaps his alter ego Sal Paradise from On The Road. It's more lesser well
known that Kerouac was associated with the LSD happenings that occurred in 60's America, including Kesey's Acid Tests.
It's also lesser well known that Kerouac's “style” of prose depicted in works such as On The Road were mainly influenced
by his friend or “wired up” driver Neal Cassady, who inspired the creation of Dean Moriarty as seen in On The Road. Both
were known drinkers or alcoholics, although the writer of the document in question here was not a drinker, despite drinking
once or twice when he turned 21 in order to come out of his shell that was making him shy and loosen up, so as to be the
“life of the party” and have an easier time picking up chicks or talking to women. He was not a drinker, although he was
associated with more marijuana in order to ease into the hippie scenes, to understand LSD and mushrooms better, as well as
ayahuasca, DMT, and phenethylamines such as MDMA. The Kerouac association is only a thinly veiled reference to LSD, it
being difficult to not make people think about alcohol exclusively when they hear Kerouac's name, as if it were a mutually
exclusive characteristic that then gets applied to anyone, especially people who happen to mention Kerouac. On The Road
was especially penned under the influence of amphetamines such as benzedrine, and the letter Cassady penned to Kerouac
that influenced him in writing OTR was written while inebriated from alcohol; Kerouac also reportedly said he planned on
drinking himself to death anyway. Nonetheless, all those considerations merely serve as some foundation and the document
in particular, let alone the author's life, had not much to do with drinking alcohol. Some final points that should be
mentioned are his parents were regular drinkers of either beer/booze and wine for the father and mother respectively,
although that didn't necessarily cause him to drink at an increased likelihood; the biggest culprit for preaching against any
alcohol was that it causes cancer at a higher risk than anything else. He figured something like marijuana could be an
effective substitute as far as aphrodisiacs go, although it later turned out not many people used it for that, because they still
drank and wouldn't give it up, most likely in order to make him look like a fool for just doing the opposite. While it is
unclear if any of Kerouac's works were actually written under the influence of LSD in any way, some of his selected pieces
seem like it, or at least the amphetamine riddled ones do, as LSD is also known as METH-LAD. That was the most of it.
During the time he was writing it he thought about all the things that were concurrently going on and how it would affect it
and the meaning, including the people who knew he was working on it and for them to deliberately talk or try to influence it
in someway to their advantage, if they were mad he was working on it or doing anything of that sort, a project or not. It got
to that point with him. He had taken an original standpoint since a wee lad, and now had to ward off waves of imitators
putting another title on him, which got annoying, because he wanted accurate depictions pertaining to the truth.

It got to the point where he would be harassed for comments left on the profiles of books online. They weren't necessarily
“reviews”, nor were members of the site obligated to leave a comment or write a review. No one even had to be a member
of that site which bordered on aspects of social media, similar to, say, Facebook or Twitter. Some of his comments were
jokes but people would treat them as the most serious thing ever or breach of some trust or confidence. That he was even
being attacked in this manner was of concern since the document he posted was supposed to be anonymous and he never
said he even wrote it. This also calls into question the differences between writing in a notebook with pencil or pen and
typing, whether on a typewriter or computer keyboard. He simply told me that he was writing a book, and that those were
for the most part trollish comments. For legal reasons he had to keep it short – that he failed to foresee this much damage
being done is the fault of someone, as he did not necessarily expect people to take some of the comments serious; that they
didn't read them for what they were and more so interpreted them as all his full, 100% effort never made much sense to me,
and I can't imagine it made sense to him either, and must have come as somewhat of a surprise; sure, he expected some of it
to be that way but certainly not the majority, per se. It became a problem like that, so that he was then challenged to produce
more exceptional results, probably on an “all the time” basis, simply put, people took what he “said” way too serious and it
couldn't really be stopped, since it was to the advantage of those people who chose to behave like that. It couldn't have been
much of a coincidence that this started at this time, again, he never said he was a writer or much a teller of stories, orally or
written. It started off as something more for “fun”, and as a practical joke. Some of it was a labor of love and he felt a
process of enjoyment in seeing things become complete. Therefore, he had aspirations to produce a great work, although,
time aside, topics were being chosen by other people as time went on. He was in school and was going to finish there first
before trying to seriously write a book if at all, and even then, he would take a non-fiction route, giving an account of some
thing. Doing research, he found a lot of books were already written in a sense, and anything he would do would sort of be a
repeat or regurgitation of some sort. If he wanted to impress anyone, let alone himself, in which he would step outside of his
comfort zone to do so in such a manner as this, it would be expected of him to produce a work such as Eragon,
accomplishing that at about age 19, showing off his intelligence or how smart he is, and enjoying writing it in all the
technical stages and processes of it, or The Hobbit/Lord of the Rings trilogy: complete, fiction works in their own fantasy
worlds, most likely loosely based on reality and real life, and somewhat along the lines of Terry Pratchett. One excuse or
line of reasoning is that it's sort of someone else's job to write books, pulp or popular fiction and paperbacks. He wanted to
be annymous with the “joke”-style documents he'd pass along, so the first few papers of those kind would have had to be
“serious” or demonstrate some work ethic or rigor. Nothing was going to be along the lines of some dissertation he' proudly
show someone, as he hadn't entered graduate school yet or anything, and it was all expectations or demands from other
people, requesting obvious things. It got a little ridiculous after a while. For example, he had read a book called “An
Introduction to the History of Mycology” G. Ainsworth, a relatively obscure tome, while studying fungi. He borrowed it
from a library, and it was one he didn't really review, and just left a comment there. A few other users also didn't review it
and left no comment, so he wondered what people thought of them if they felt this particular way about him and what he
had done to the book. He memorized some of it and it was a good book but then a dilemma came. Should he write a review?
He was also reading “Mushrooms, Russia, and History” by the Wassons at the same time and had something good planned
for it, as far as its review would go. However, this was all mostly spoiled and then canceled upon seeing the reaction to his
“jests” which suggested people were just “impatient”, in a way, when demanding to see certain output performed, especially
by him in particular. He knew enough about mushrooms and had some memorized technical detail so while talking about
them wasn't an issue and neither was writing about them, or the subject, as if being quizzed in school, people expected to
see certain blocks of text in certain places, or else it's better to assume it doesn't exist, or, not that the “potential” isn't merely
there, but that it will never be exercised, and certainly not in a fast enough manner to share with all people for them to enjoy.
Maybe time was moving faster than he perceived, and it couldn't be allowed, although he admitted to some procrastination
out of “writer's block” and protest like moods. He needed as many necessary components as possible just to begin the
writing project.

He ran into an old friend from college a couple years later after the fact, just so they could catch up. It always seemed like
she had ulterior motives or was plotting something on the side somewhat behind his back just in case. She said her younger
brother, whom he had saw a few months prior, had a schizophrenic mental psychosis outbreak from smoking meth. They
figured out it was a few months before he saw him. He then wondered if it was some sort of metaphorical hidden insult she
threw at him, referencing the work and its style, described as a “mad dash” and in general a “mad dash for existence”, but it
would mean “she thought he really wrote like that”, which seemed somewhat unlikely and foolish of her.

As it was so far, he had “released” or posted a few documents on the internet, whether in completely-joke format or not no
one could really say for certain. Some of them were more or less a serious effort, an attempt to produce some results
demonstrating elucidation on topics that as they were, had not much public information on. I will list most of them here for
context. Even when they were posted in PDF format having been typed on a computer they were in no way intended to be
“final drafts” or something to be held in a high esteem. In fact, he didn't really want to be praised for it. In some ways, he
did, and may have needed some credit. However, criticism or any denouncing would always be an issue, depending on the
reason for it. The list ran as follows, excluding any work done out of requirement at school or anything else. There was
posted a shorter review, with full color photos about a particular species of mushroom identification in a guide format, so as
to shine more light on a that particular species, although you could say it maybe didn't go into the chemistry of the
molecules included a lot.

You had to figure out what people wanted, and quickly learned you couldn't please everyone. You saw how there was
meaning in some popular phrases, although not so much for others. It's possible for phrases or things people say to lack
truth. He wrote the DMT journals by hand in a notebook prior to typing the LSD story and posting it. He was still
transcribing the DMT experiences when the LSD one leaked and some people presumably read it. People didn't understand
it was mostly a prank and typed while intoxicated on LSD. It then started to seem like people used it as an example of his
actual intelligence level and treat him accordingly, passing on what they think he deserved.

The DMT was the most visual. He heard mushrooms and LSD weren't that visual, so whenever he tried them, it was mainly
just to see how the according doses measure up to how “visual” or visionary DMT is and can be, and so sometimes he
would be surprised, since his experiences on lower doses of mushrooms and acid weren't that visual.
These were all my interests before people crawled out from under the woodwork and started to turn it into a trend.

He would have to set it straight. He already had visions of dying young and early, before any work could be accomplished,
and before any oral stories could be recorded in the written word, so all was lost, except to the wind, and the animals, such
as the birds, and dogs, and cats, to the Planet Gaia itself. It would have to come all the way around via an ultimate karma,
basically. The truth would still be out there, regardless, ultimately, if he was there to tell it anymore, no matter how hard
anyone would try to suppress his claim to “innocence”. It would would through a “cause and effect”affect things, by having
something that's missing there, trigger reactions. It isn't so much that animals are “better” at this than humans, they just have
different senses that perceive differently, whether it's the same stimuli or not.

There were also beliefs or thought patterns at the time wherein the origin of an event, or the starting point of some causal
chain, kept getting dated further and further back. The interests of the pubic at the times kept shifting with the current times,
so that things such as giants became a topic of not just inquiry, but people attempted to have knowledge or mastery of it, and
over all aspects of it, just to say that they had so, and for no other reason, as it would be a social advantage to have not just
in conversation but it stemming from someone's personal interests, in conversation or public appearances it would be said to
be an important thing or impressive, if only to impress people. There are then a few source books and texts to read or that
serve as they basis for any such thoughts, that you have to read, or someone's information also comes from second hand
sources. The original topic, in a sense it could be called that, for example, was “fairies”. It was the years of early in the
2000's A.D., and things like fairies were usually in the past, predating the 1800's at least, and going further back. The Bible
and similar texts are also good examples of early myths, so to speak, through books or oral tradition.

During this project I decided to reread some stuff I had previously read, as well as take on new material that would have
been relevant to that very same project. Preferably, it would have been done prior, but concurrent wasn't a bad method
either, despite any pros and cons. Most of it was to just impress other people, whether before or after some other event.
Another thing that was looked at concurrently, is the phenomenon wherein whatever book you're reading at the time ends up
being relevant, even if you're rereading it, it is said, you'll “notice” new things you hadn't previously noticed the first. That's
the same as rewatching movies. There was some truth to it at first, but after a while, I noticed, it started to get somewhat out
of control. This, it turns out, is due to the fundamental way time works in existence. Since this can become pressing, there is
a technique to use wherein your time can be used optimally, so that none is wasted reading, when you have thoughts on your
mind that need to be written. However, it just takes discipline. But people were wrong. These weren't fun books to read for
entertainment. No, they were weapons and tools to use against those causing any harm. They were sacred items, and as
people still didn't understand the purpose of life or “why we were here”, reality was constantly and steadily being defined –
and not always “as soon as possible”. There was no real reason to prioritize that speed.

I remember where I was on 9/11. I was in the fifth grade at recess, and it had ended, we were being called back into the
classroom. It was then revealed by the teacher that some planes were hijacked and used to crash into buildings, killing many
people, this conflict being done by terrorists in a continuation of the previous generation's war under George Bush in the
80's.

It could also be said that women, modern or otherwise, for the most part, had a lessened sense of identity and lower
connection with any sense of “self”. It had always been Christianity that was responsible for painting a sacred image of the
woman, in which the female is one in which a standard is acknowledged. On the other hand it's said they have no real other
savior or heroic character in the religious lore, fundamentalist, metaphysical, kabbalistic interpretation or otherwise. Carl
Jung went ahead and gave permission to connect the female with anima, and anima with art, as its root etymology would
suggest, we modern English speakers think of animate or animation when heard, allowing a faster connection through that,
although that isn't literally what it means. In this way the anima could also have a tendency to be seen as fire, element wise,
but the source of female spirit is also known to be water, or have an association with it, because the water is usually a
symbol of the unknown, plus any birth/death/rebirth sources that can be derived from that. Jung also designated the anima
as man's feminine side. In Moby Dick when Pip fell off the ship and had to be grabbed back on board, he had a vision while
he was in the ocean in a near death experience way. Here he saw forms, strange, alien, primordial and possibly post history,
all in a frenzy. It should be noted Moby Dick is fiction, although has value as a maritime narrative. One may question the
reality of the situation on how Pip may have fallen over, let alone been rescued aboard, this happening twice. The further
down the sea's depths you go, the more pressure there is and more stabilization required, so a person would die. Modern
people use crafts and submarines as well as diving equipment. Of course, this interpretation almost exclusively relies on a
metaphorical meaning as an explanation. Sometimes, people aren't interested in the literal. It would be impossible for Pip to
have gone so deep down that he panicked and blacked out, so to speak, so that he saw a vision instead of just looking at any
coral reefs that may have been lying along the coast. They were far out in the ocean not near any islands when that
happened. The ocean doesn't work that way. As it is, one can almost be certain that Melville was aiming for a more mind-
bending, psychedelic approach, and treasured the subtlety. Psychedelic experiences traditionally aren't always explainable or
if they are, not always easily. They can be similar to dreams, and the brain might use principles similar to how dreams work
to make them happen. As such, no other criticism can render that interpretation invalid or less effective. In the next chapter
it is Ishmael who hallucinates in desolation similar to Pip, except he is on board and on watch. In this instance it is more so
due to sleep deprivation. However, it is still a potent vision he has. He sees humanoid figures milking jars of sperm whale
oil, being reminiscent of a job the crew onboard the Pequod had to work.
It wouldn't so much be a promotion of the idea that art should be accepted as the new standard so that it gives women more
freedom to choose who their own partner could be, as if this were a new type of generation of love spiritualist movement. It
just calls into criticism the very idea by denying it to those who want it. They use a logic to get to that conclusion, but
through the same logical gates it can turn out, what this would mean, is that they shouldn't get much say at all, under the
original system dictating their will to me. This is information gleaned from my psychedelic experiences, and is really only
reinforced through their amplifying my inner consciousness. It simply became a battle over the value of a romance. Civility
is maintained through society. In absence of all that animal impulses are relied on only about half the time. There became an
order, or a a reasoning to things determining who really knew what was going on. That was just the way it worked. They
said it wasn't about the smartest person in the room, and we all knew that a sense of humor was important. Ultimately,
money is important too since it allows you to get stuff. Social currency is not the same as cash or any kind of paper to
digital money. That was a difference in the way society was set up, mostly setting certain people up for failure with inherent
disadvantages while operating within the system of their home country. Worst case scenario it was a situation of someone
being too ahead of their time, so when that key time came, their ideas were mostly out of fashion by then, and mostly
because the audiences didn't like who they were looking at for the message that was being delivered. They found themselves
disagreeing with the advertising campaign because they didn't like who was speaking it, as if they knew what agreeing
meant. The girls and women didn't easily want to relent control of their sexuality over to controlling males.
The only criticism that fairy tales really get is that they were mostly told by men, even though women were also good
storytellers. It is also that they are sources of archetypal information, not necessarily specific cases of individual problems.
All things considered, there is the idea of the rejected woman, a character who has to go through a lot of suffering in order
to find the right bridegroom. I should reiterate this isn't a feminine fight or a search for female role models. It is merely a
setting of the pieces in place. Presumably, finding a man is the important part in a girl's life for most of them growing up.
The source of her suffering could be many different things. There is also Sophia, which means wisdom, personified as the
Godhead's youngest daughter who wanted to know the Abyss, and by this wish, got in trouble and suffered, and, ultimately,
fell into matter, it is said, thus begging for redemption. The story of Adam, and Eve, in the Garden of Eden, also invokes
themes of redemption and returning to a state, as the events there take place after the Fall in the first place, even as Eve's
eating of the apple represents another fall, and the fall we all think of responsible for the reality we perceive today. As it
turns out, though, God's creation of man through Adam was the Genesis, and Eve's eating of the apple was the fall. In short,
it doesn't really mean that any man with the appropriate amount of art in his intellectual repertoire can more easily subsume
the authority of entering into any romantic or sexual relationship with the girl of his choosing. The caveman and animal
kingdoms rely on the alpha male concept, usually. That concept of Sophia getting lost in matter also appears as the
Shechinah in Jewish Kabbalah mysticism, most of which is writing by men of particular tradition, informed of the writings
and oral inheritance of partly occult, hidden information from interpretations only scholars have access to. Particularly, it is
related through the Shechinah getting lost. The Shechinah is a thing written about elsewhere by me and is a bit out of the
scope of this current chapter. However, it has merely been a shortcut in describing the DMT psychedelic experience for me.
Spenser describes the Faerie Queen as glory, and another name for the Shechinah is “God's Glory,”, or God's presence in the
world. It isn't the most potent vision of God that's referenced in the Bible, which is something that belongs to Jacob seeing
the Face of God. Instead, the Shechinah is described as a fiery, cloud like image that's difficult to focus on. It isn't described
as being beautiful but the feeling it induces is similar to one's inability to describe, process, and make sense of the DMT
experience especially after it had just occurred. Glory is a simple enough concept to understand, and most don't comprehend
the fuss knights in a court make over the attaining of it.
Cannabis is a mild psychedelic, inducing those mind manifesting capabilities at higher doses. Psilocybin mushrooms and
LSD are psychedelic as well, and DMT is psychedelic, sometimes considered the Holy Grail of psychedelics. That is not
only why it is said to be the most powerful psychedelic, as testimony and first hand experience also confirm that. High
doses of psilocybin and LSD are potent in similar ways, although novelty is important in determining just what was more
potent or stronger. The point is that DMT is so different that it can sometimes only be described by, basically, attributing it
to God or His presence. The irony is, DMT is considerably psychedelic, and there isn't much in the Bible concerning that. I
took it to be just well hidden, and for good reason. Before your mind is exposed to DMT, there are no real words for it. It
was so unexplainable the bulk of the task usually had to be left to those playing the role of expert in psychiatric fields,
actually studying the psychedelic chemicals in lab settings. Since mushrooms and LSD were psychedelic, DMT was on
another level. The mushroom or LSD inebriation can sometimes be hard to describe or put in words for people who have
experienced it. DMT can be as well, thus solidifying a connection between the psychedelics. They do not always induce a
vision. Even while they can be difficult to put into language each in their own unique ways, DMT is still the hardest to
describe – even though they are of nearly equal confusion in difficulty, meaning they generate similar amounts of
unexplainable phenomena, they do so in their own ways, except DMT is still the strongest. The synergy plays a similar role.
As such, if taken at face value, God may be seen as an ultimate mystery. As a creator, it is sometimes said its creation can be
wholly unable to imagine what its creator may be like. That is in accordance with sayings such as the universe is more
beautiful than anyone can ever possibly imagine, or that it's way more insane than anyone can ever possibly suppose.
Godel's theorem is also founded upon such logic. As is known, mushrooms have been used in ceremony for the inducement
of transcendental beauty by Mexican and Native American tribes for over five to six hundred to a thousand years. DMT has
done so as well, although its nature is slightly different from that of the typical orally administered plant medicine. It only
lasts five minutes, although can be extended through the use of harmine/harmala alkaloids, whereas mushrooms last 4-6
hours, it being relatively short lasting as well. LSD is sometimes used as the standard for a psychedelic trip, it last 10-12
hours, capable of going all day. It isn't recommended to use MAO-Is with LSD.*
We draw a line between fiction and reality. Art imitates life or life imitates art, in that way, the real woman affects the anima
and the anima influences the real woman. It is the woman who affects the man's mood most of the time, or who taxes his
spiritual energy, whether that be sexual or not, and, here is when the conflict between thought and feeling comes into play,
as it is also represented through things like science vs art. What mediates this are notions that there is an art to science, or a
science to art. It is assumed a man plagued by racing thoughts and over-exerted mental faculties can neglect acts of pursuing
females, even if married, can relegate his wife's needs to a low priority. This is presumably why some people want to be
attentive. It isn't just looks that matter, maybe integrity or a sense of humor are necessary. A girl will be uncomfortable
getting by if all the guy does is focus on her; she'd need him to be more socially adept so as to be able to bring her what she
desires, from that viewpoint. That being said a man's ability to ward off other guys in the area should be seen as adaptive,
evolution wise, or a skill. In general, a girl can tell a man she's involved with about aspects of the feminine psychology that
can cause him to sort through his feelings to try and help the overall situation. In this same way the woman is almost fully
defined by the man's anima projections. They take note when a guy reacts surprised, as in when the lady's behavior does not
fit the image of his anima. This is caused by the typical male dominated society. It is easy to see how some women give in
to concepts such as only doing or desiring what the male in question projects onto them, having little to no sense of identity
when he isn't paying so much attention. When this happens usually only a man's reaction gives them a sense of their
feminine aspects. This is all another way of saying sometimes people do things they don't want to do just to impress the
other person, or sometimes groups of other people. The anima is just a key term then that means things created by man done
to attempt to impress women, in hopes of scoring them as a romantic partner or spouse.
In essence, the point of this work is to highlight neglected topics, things that would usually be called conspiracy or
pseudoscience, just to shed some light on what the accepted truths of those are, that is to say, if there are any applicable
aspects to them or not. Traditionally it is said sacred or divine aspects of our human nature are suppressed by the system.
The church neglects the anima. In those civilizational situations a person suppressed in that way regresses to patterned
primitive instincts or seeks within the animus an efficient enough archetype to rely on that gives her a picture of herself to
counterbalance uncertainty and harmful forces within and around her, both options being techniques to protect oneself from
projections culture or society places on you. There are some places, though, the the female is known and respected in some
ways, the people understanding she is different from the man, and so they can exist free of being thought of as inferior. It is
sometimes more than what's fair, such as how male heroes are more common than strong female characters, even in fairy
tale or fiction stories. Usually the girl is a side figure, playing usual roles such as housewife, maid, or damsel in distress.
It can also be put out there that feminine characters in stories can neither be an anima archetype nor representative of a real
girl, but could sometimes be both. You can't simply be only well read, having been exposed to a number of female
characters through literature or art, and use that as preparation to tackle the female problem in real life. You will get
experience from the exposure of trial and error. It sometimes depends on the gender of who wrote or translated the story.
Even if the source work is not in your native language the original translation can be important, and others' trust must be
gauged to determine its usefulness in being used for anything besides entertainment as a distraction. In fact, that is mostly
what the art is. Anima can be seen as the essence of art, or man's feminine side, that being something to help connect him to
a female. It implies some passion or energy. For the most part, works have one interpretation that the original author had in
mind for the audience, unless a particular one was one with a deliberate open ending interpretation, for arts' sake. Art and
films can have a few different messages besides just the one, and this is where it's hypothesized that the sex of the person
plays a role in what is emphasized during a summary of the story. Girls and boys may focus on different aspects. However,
the big picture may be the same irrespective of how an exposure to the art helps a particular individual. It might even be
useful to interpret a story from a male and female perspective, let alone, race wise, from the white to minority viewpoint.
It is sometimes wondered what is meant by the designation “fairy tale”. I looked into them as a source of faerie, seeing as
how it, and they, are, or tend to be, elusive. The thread I started out on was that maybe the people back then, beginning at
least circa the 17th century, had a little bit more idea what was going on with that, since most of them originate from that
period and before. In modern day life, particularly in the United States, there is less emphasis on such things. English
literature from the Victorian era also has a smattering of fairy faith left over in it through at least some of its writers,
although this isn't explicit, as is the fairy tradition. It's as if there's a hidden game our players throughout history were aware
of, and that by its very nature were not disposed to speak of it, for fear of ruining the joke and its punchline, hoping in good
faith that it would be expounded upon soon, with time, as they looked on down. The eager anticipation was just to see who
would be doing it and if they were having fun at the mystery or not, like some labor of love. Thus, a myth usually refers to a
story of Greek or Roman origin whereas a fairy tale, originally for adults and now considered suitable for the nursery, are
thought to deal with regular people as opposed to the gods and goddesses of ancient myths. However, there are still some
gods in fairy tales, and the differences they have with myths aren't that great. They are all now sometimes just called wives'
tales because they are popular among that group. It can be seen as for their own good to be acquainted with the stories for
purposes of knowing their culture. There are usually tips on how a girl should properly behave, even more so once they
become a wife. The term “wife's tale” has a ring to it suggesting we know they are just make believe stories that mostly, if
based on reality, only happened in someone's imagination. The connotation is that they are useless to know, for males at
least, and going by that logic, can generally be forgotten since they serve no use to history. I think they raise morale of those
not in the majority, up to a point. Such is the pattern of life and development of one's path. The tales are such a part of
England's heritage they can scarcely be forgotten. It might mostly be that if you are elsewhere, there is less emphasis for
them. The study of such a thing can be time consuming and, ironically, may not be for everyone, if it simply doesn't bring
fortune and goodwill to all involved. It is implied the only way to obtain a wife is to know and be familiar with these tales,
so as to reference them at will and ace a pop quiz upon occurrence. It is ironic in that knowing these tales brings one only
about as much as the title aficionado. The other meaning is that some arbiter of these tales must have the power to bed any
and all women worldwide. The catch is, that is, sort of, how it was originally laid out, and that the world is different these
days, in actuality, so that again, the fairytales are relegated to the status of myth, despite what reality or metaphor they may
have been based on. As such, that is another goal of this work, to expound upon what meaning these sources had. I am not
attempting to share my fascination with the fairy tradition just so people can try to poke holes in the logic even more, as if I
didn't read up and do my own research on the subject. Fairies mostly appear as a female form and when humanoid, a girl, it
being implied a fairy is about more than the female body.
Once again, the ironic part is that all this would have been taking place after the fact, and not before. That means, in other
words, people would be stealing his idea and suppressing the fact they weren't giving credit and passing it off as an original
thought process.
Characters in myths are frequently mistaken to be the Gods of religion or other icons of worship, particularly those of
creation. However, they are mostly archetypes. Fairy tales, then, are not necessarily based on stories from civil societies.
Like the myth, their source is something else besides total religious archetypes. For myths, their origin is mostly the
representations collectives, known by most English speakers as the collective unconscious, as written about by Lucien
Levy-Bruhl. Some people claim fairy tales are of a distinct origin, if not a totally separate system to correspond with. As
ruminated on earlier, it can be said that they are mostly somewhat of a potential nature, and compensate by contradicting or
being different from current social views that may be mostly dominant. My experience showed a connection between
psychedelic use, mostly LSD, mushrooms, and DMT, and the fairy world(s). As a joke, or to try and be funny or tongue in
cheek, while still remaining somewhat serious or true to the lore at least, I would compare certain DMT states to God a god,
godhead type material, as in that situation there is little else to compare it to. The state is highly psychedelic, and can be
described as the most beautiful thing you ever did see, or that could be taken in and realized, let alone generated by the
mind, although you start to wonder if that title really does belong to something like an act of kindness or love. Traditionally,
psychedelic content involves some degree of indescribable-ness, not always through a mechanism affecting the memory. It
is sometimes truly alien territory that a human organism is still adapting to or getting used to. That is just the traditional
approach and any time someone disagrees it's just an innate drive in a person to try and push boundaries or break the mold,
and, the point of this work is not so much to celebrate that. The point is more so to appreciate it in general, if at all possible,
and more than one viewpoint or understanding can be held at the same time, so as to prevent a belief from taking over for
the sole purpose of suppressing others. There are also many scientific reasons why it could be plausible to be described as
such, if not only for the time being.
The argument is that there is a one true identity that ruled all or was able to sleep with any woman. In order to break this
various myths are used and have been created, including the fairy tales and whatever other story that may exist as art. This is
why some women promote a female Mother Goddess, sometimes Earth Mother, that would imply a similar identity, yet it
couldn't be anything more than an imitation only to soothe hormonal feelings or get a point across by expressing an emotion
through an act.
I started off being interested in esoteric subjects such as the 4th Dimension, time travel, and the like. I wanted to see how
much truth and reality there was to fascinating ideas science-fiction tried to convince us was plausible, and things our
technology hadn't allowed us to accomplish yet. It was usually something like that in twenty years time most of our
problems would be solved, so to speak, and since I was a kid then only had thoughts about becoming some professional
scientist or discoverer, employed so as to work more directly with the material and theoretical information at hand. I did see
myself completing the years of school and university required. I did not see any art or hobbies as a backup plan should that
not happen. Marrying a rich lady and mostly leaving it at that, though, was a goal that was nearly the most prioritized. It was
imagined that the money and secure position would allow things to go at a comfortable pace with the least amount of
preventable stress.
The drugs, namely, psychedelics, did not come until later, once I was old enough to learn about them and what they are. I
saw adults smoking cigarettes as a child, and in movies on the television characters would smoke weed, although I thought
about what the differences between a joint and cigarette were. Characters smoking weed on the television would laugh and
act goofy when they were smoking a joint and I'd think about how that reaction was different compared to the adults I saw
smoking cigarettes.
People give things names and call things a designated definition. We have stories and a somewhat rich history of myths and
archetypes to draw from, both literally and metaphorically, except, not all interpretations are exactly valid. If a generally
unknown or unfamiliar thing whether it be a person or event appears, and someone doesn't know what it is, they will usually
assign a role or definition, with the more miraculous things being taken from sources such as the Bible, typically considered
one of the first tomes in recorded history of man. It should be noted that some evidence suggests it used
Babylonian/Mesopotamian source myths as inspiration to be written. The Bible really is an archetypal source saying the
universe and reality is a simulation, and that everything has happened before. Everything that happens and will happen is
something that has roots from the Biblical days, taking place in extra dimensions so as to be recorded and uploaded to a
cosmic unconscious, something that's the work of God in an alien like way or aliens in a godlike way, which is pretty much
the same thing. God has always been an elusive deity to define. It has never been guaranteed to be anthropomorphized.
People base their so called religion or beliefs on what they believe or take to be true and acceptable, and it is through that
that they choose to follow a doctrine or not. They can then seemingly exercise a will in choosing, or accepting, who or what
to be devoted to and in what ways. Except, it is said, no man or woman really has a choice or will. If that is decided by God
a more unseen force then it isn't really up to them. No one had really figured out if there was free will or not. So far as can
possibly be solved, there appeared to be determinism and free will, explaining any automation in organic beings, but most
things could have been determined from a past time, as things began to be set in motion. They can be wrong, and not know
what's best for them nor what is best for the greater good, humanity as a whole. Namely, what is needed, is free love, for me
to experience in this generation, through sex with as many women that I choose as possible, which is the only way to spread
the positive vibes needed to save our species and universe.
It is easy to attribute certain things to God or a God without any proof, and so it really could have been something else
under any other belief system. Except, some definitions of God are a “one”, so that everything is one, and it would have
been due to God in the first place. Of course, the Bible already has a number of things that they called God or an aspect of
Him that they attributed the mysterious unnatural event to. When I say the Bible, I really mean concepts like Kabbalah and
the interpretations by the Jewish Sage Mystics, some of which has until recently been occult information only available to a
select few. Now, though, it's more publicly available than anything else. Something like the DMT psychedelic experience is
a way to access other worlds and communication with aliens and God like entities, as well as possibly God Himself.
That is generally the aim of this work, to describe such occurrences. It can't be spelled out any clearer and subtly is what I
have been doing up until this time, and it didn't accomplish much with its slow pace. There isn't really a goal or something
to accomplish besides that of finishing a book or producing a manuscript and feeling better after that.
There are not many popular or power female figures in Christianity besides the Virgin Mary. There are some others, maybe
Joan of Arc, for instance, but they are all chaste. Ironically, in some ways, they should be. That is, more or less, the archaic
way of living. The Bible style of living promoted things such as land ownage with farming and gardening as well as, so to
speak, loving relationships between man and woman, or however you want to describe it using eros comparisons, because
love might not be the right word as it really may be something like adoration or acknowledgment. This isn't an attempt at
ushering in a new era of female power or cosmic awareness. The only foreseeable future I can support is one manifesting
my destiny into fruition, that in which my identity is recognized, or re-recognized at last, meaning that the return of
gathering my wives worldwide for sexual relationships with them again. That is just what my archetype is, as has became
inevitably ever more apparent in this times as nature yearns for a return to it, something much more than an archaic revival
in name. Of course, one function and origin of the word warlock is to, more so than anything else under pressure, find a
wife to settle down, in society, so as not to make everyone else jealous. It isn't just about the guy's good looks then, because
actions speak louder than words. It wouldn't completely depend on what people wanted to see.
Flatland is one of the most scathing criticisms on wedlocking and arranged marriages. It would simply mean the passionate
and romantic was seen as wrong and mostly mere words.
The other aspect of this sees the connection between fairy folklore and its reliance on idol worship symbology and
testimony. The history of poetic myth or “science of natural poetry” relies on that as background material for consistency
and connections through metaphorical archetypes in reality. In short, DMT took me to fairyland in a few different ways. It
can be seen as synonymous with certain types of meditation that allow travel to different worlds and planets across the
galaxy and universe in both astral and inner and outer spaces. I have started to mention more and more about the true legend
of my myth, which this book explores, and has been some stuff I've said orally and written elsewhere. While it has been
something I've known for a longer time, I kept it to myself mostly during periods of writing about it, so that it would remain
a secret or surprise for a book I hoped to get published, therefore insuring maximum novelty value and possibly even more
money. Unfortunately, unrealistic standards and expectations got in the way, resulting in extreme pressure for daily life
variables and the impatience of audiences, and so after a certain point, considering the law of diminishing returns and
discoveries, wherein information can get cheaper over time especially once word gets out or it leaks, or someone else forces
it out for whatever reason they had. Thus, this is the book where I not only talk about it more in this space for it, but support
the idea with all the historical evidence and patterns that caused a logical structure based on expressing needs and wants
orally. It can be said that women prefer to be with wealthy men, as well as those accomplished and with certain qualities. As
this is now technically the book, it isn't perfect and not quite what the author had in mind, although it should get about half
the point across to begin with. People go around with thoughts in their heads that might not necessarily be written down
somewhere specific, or even yet. Regarding the whole story and logical structure it's mainly how it should go, and working
out any nuances and would be inconsistencies is just as much part of the linguistic side of things. My birthright, or cosmic
inheritance, is access to every woman's body at will in a way no different than any royal blood having maidservents around
a palace or a guy having a mistress or two. This is something I've experienced in a myriad of ways. It doesn't mean girls can
copy this formula once applied to themselves meaning they can have multiple boy suitors. In part, this model relies on my
existence and it turning out a certain way. They say Heaven on Earth is possible and we know of concepts such as Hell and
Purgatory. This life and existence we are experiencing now at this moment can't just be considered an alternate dimension.
Rather, it is a purgatory like existence in that suffering is mostly what I see, in between bits and pieces of what can remotely
be called pleasure, such as good food or drink. Anything can be described as good such as harmony between people and
things for instance. What people also think is important is originality and novelty, plus a mindset that it isn't always who did
something first, but who did it right or better, was more timely with it, as well as possibly that person's motivation and
reasoning for it. When people bicker about originality or who deserves what over accomplishing whatever they did is when
they argue for their preferences or what they think they want, that is, something that they want to experience. A large part of
things can also be unconsciously motivating them, although for the most part our current models of understanding take it for
granted that we all use conscious will.
There used to be such a thing called preference, ranging from what foods you prefer to eat to what is deemed worthy of
entertainment, let alone it being absorbed as art and at what time. It doesn't mean someone who saw a movie first before
someone else is smarter, since they just took the opportunity to do so. It's more pop culture related than problem solving or
intelligence gauging.
Let us also not forget that in order for this idea to work I also explore the truth that everything has already been known for at
least “950,000” years of human society and civilization, and if that sounds like an unusually large number, you are right,
because I have extraordinary evidence attesting that it is so.

Another reason fairy tales have happy endings to archetypal sources that in real life may not, is to break that mold, since in
reality, these situations rarely have those positive outcomes. The lai (lay) is a standard work in British and French writing
and poetry. Obviously lai sounds like lay, which in English is slang for sexual intercourse. That these works of writing are
poems correlates well with the attitude that those kinds of artworks are successful in allowing the artist a reputation good
enough in order to become a popular suitor of the ladies. In modern day there's music, which is poetic in nature, and
musicians are commonly known to be rock stars so that they live and enjoy a lifestyle filled with getting laid. That's merely
one common association. Written language has rarely been sensual enough to attract sex appeal. Not a lot of people were
into it, as the association between words and images usually stops there. People take a “one or the other” attitude, possibly
with a career focused mindset so that they just try to focus on their strengths. Proficiency in writing is important to being a
productive member of society, and that includes reading at an appropriate level as well. Math skills are also a plus, as they
increase your critical thinking ability, which is impressive on a resume.

Everything was one in common ways, such as skin rubbing together and intermixing cells. In fact, that's how diseases and
viruses got transferred, by attaching and interchanging with the normal host's cells. It's said that every seven years a body
sheds all its cells completely so that technically they aren't the same person, physically, whereas mentally, the passage of
time assumes wisdom gained, or lost, so that they aren't the same in that way either. In a similar way acts of skin rubbing
together or kissing on the lips and exchanging saliva and other body fluids accomplishes a similar transfer.
Part I.
Maybe because the fact my birthday lands on the celebratory holiday the Day of the Dead would all make this make sense.
As such, it doesn’t really fall on that date, traditionally known as November the 2nd. Yes, that is a couple days after
Halloween, or October 31st, which the Americans like to celebrate as that day. Little do people know, however, is that the
actual day takes place somewhere between November 1st and 2nd, while there are even some rumors it occurs on the 30th of
October. Or should I say that no one actually knows when my birthday is, besides it’s either on the first or the second,
maybe somewhere near midnight on the first which technically makes that the second, or hell even the third. All this time I
was actually born on the third rather than the second, and here I was wasting all this time enjoying of the perks of that
astrological profile when it turned out to be slightly wrong.
I should mention I am no expert astrologist or star sign reader. I have no idea whether the displacement of days alters the
traits. Someone from a subsequent day could be way different from the previous, otherwise the personalities just slightly
differ day by day until you have something resembling the next sign. There's little evidence that physics influences the
personality through changes in the stars and universe tunneling to Earth and subtle changes in vibrations. It seems however
though that the personages are given random stamps, randomly generated profiles that all fit the mold of a sign scattered
throughout the birth months. And as if this wasn’t obvious, I’m just reviewing the idea after you dear reader asked in the
first place, and have no real idea why people still waste time discussing the Zodiac in these modern times.
That clearly isn’t why we have been brought here today. We should get on with the story already then, should there actually
be one. This could take a while. In fact, this version of the story has been told and retold many a time, so it is always
possible to seek alternative versions for whichever suits your comfort. The least I can promise is it won’t be too difficult to
make it through, not that anything we get into has to be painful in any way whatsoever. But obviously, ever since sometime
near my entrance into this realm I have been given an odd fancy for that thing called death. This will probably be brought
into dispute many time throughout this ride but that’s all the nature of the game. Or rather, the game they’d rather have you
focus on. Who is they? Well, it’s all a long story now isn’t it. And since you asked that question there is only one way to find
out. Most people usually give up right around here for some other calling like grabbing a snack or calling a friend, attending
some other important matter of business like heading off on a temporary trip or two to stave off some restless feeling but
soon you learn to take it a little easy if at all and calm the mind, begin to meditate on it, sit and focus, and delve into the
literature and be rewarded. And this must be it, they think, this must be all there is to it and in some ways they could be
partially right.
Could certain of these worldly pleasures be extended thus forever? Obviously, I didn’t come here alone. I must have been a
very special boy ever since exiting the womb or else we wouldn’t be here right now. They say, you’re even still allowed to
wonder at the marvels of this sort of survival mechanism. What is a strange force being split into fours for some future
restorative dormant foreseeable reasons? But that’s only unnecessarily musing upon the topic. Such things in the heat of the
moment can half the time be a distraction, in this crazy world. And knowing that, people are going to be proud to be crazy.
You probably shouldn’t be one of those people, as you no doubt would expect to have not even gotten this far yet. As an
aside it has been declared, not be me mind you, that those folk officially aren’t even people but some other kind of thing.
Very exciting times. We shall enjoy our numerous interactions with them, there is nothing to fear. We are partially being sent
here to dilly dally in ways like this. Can’t really complain. But, others can and will. Of course. What could it all mean?
Somewhere along the line Earth morphed into a land of justifying whatever you can into something which makes it seem
like you thought of it beforehand. In that way could you appear ever and ever the more perfect without realizing this is
usually the product of television stars and editing, something about that glamorous life. It can be well sought after by those
in these spaces, in different manners. I am told we were sent to investigate why this may be and how it happened, for at
these important times, the delicate balance can be skewed and all will have been for naught.

“This is really weird,” he said as the silence kicked in and became apparent. It just now became apparent seconds ago of
course although it had kicked in prior, while everyone was seemingly minding their own business. Besides the lifeless,
tranquil ambiences coming from outside one would have thought the so called silence a good thing but it was in antithesis to
what was supposed to be going on. As if anything was actually supposed to be going on, let alone has been during the last
couple hours. He went ahead and tested too, not merely just in case but because he nearly couldn’t help to. He walked back
into the kitchen and pretended to rummage through the refrigerator. He opened the door and light came on so he could see
inside it. There were some things but it was clear they would need to re stock on essential supplies soon. Some of the rations
they received were just too generic, too obviously manufactured. He wanted and needed a more natural course of action
which he sometimes does and goes gets himself but most recently someone had thrown it away before it was even finished.
It had to be rationalized, and they said the food goes back in only three or four days, which was obviously in contrast to all
the previous experience. ‘Well,’ he thought to himself quietly in his head after going over that idea, ‘at least this means we
can harbor the bags of rice for a couple more months.’ This thought came into his head because he had been enjoying his
portions of that although, in some ways, he thought, maybe he shouldn’t have been. Again, this is about the case of the
rations. Received rations. If it were up to him he’d probably, surreptitiously, be choosing something like vegetarian pizzas
and vegan cookies for his meals all day but through some puzzle they weren’t always available yet immensely enjoyed
whenever they were. What else could have been done with them? That was something he always had to ask after that. It was
a part of his recruitment moralities. He added loads of vegetables from the gardens into his rice cake meals which only
mitigated the pressure and guilt. He needed to drink tea too, but there was just too much fluoride in it all. The health
professions all only told him that maybe the concentrations just weren’t enough to actually have any effect but there
probably was a slight one if anything compounded over years of use, something so quite subtle in building up that you don’t
quite notice it until you do. One of the great mysteries of our age and something he was actually on job to investigate. He
had been becoming something of a lab rat in recent times. They all thought it was fun and games until something about the
story just became so off putting to their vision and perception that they just had to call it quits. They just didn’t have the
guts. That’s all it would have appeared to be. Luckily, of course, he had the empathy to go ahead and dismiss it that each
person had their own life path and we should be lucky paths would cross. For the time they had together, hopefully it was
well spent and used, and in some ways actually supposed to happen. We all know how it is to always have these imposters
running around, ruining things. Ruining what things? Whatever was in their sights in accordance with their understanding of
the world. He wanted to believe people had the goodwill to take things in such a manner. So, it was usually his decision in
kind heart to slowly peel back away from others in their friendship, as maybe it just didn’t work out. They would cross paths
again someday maybe and catch up but if they were on different wavelengths it would just make things more difficult (like
that’s a bad thing) and energy expending in ways he probably didn’t want. Now, how many times will he go about
ruminating over this? As long as people bring it up his mind would have to be manipulated into thinking he did something
wrong in his course of actions. And then, he would have to run through all of it again until he came to the same conclusion
he did last time, which stated that perhaps he was right in his doings. Before that could happen he would be made to feel
guilty by the others, until after having finally had enough, he would remember, and remember well, and be allowed to move
on again. The only way to bypass this would be to make more friends with them, seemingly. What a load. It’s circular
reasoning.
In some ways it was his fault, for however the situations were being interpreted. He had a sense of humor that could only be
described as potentiated. In most senses of the idea he allowed himself to become the proverbial boy who cried wolf and the
cloud hung over his head, now, for as long as he could remember. Maybe this is why people never recognized his genius.
Or, maybe he was just too lazy to manifest it and show to other people since besides his artistic side, that is also what they
wanted to see. People just wanted to see the best in everyone, like if someone is overly obese and presumably unhealthy,
they, presumably, must think that they should help that guy lose weight and become more fit for society. Well, there was
another conspiracy that was on the checklist he received. It was already mostly figured out anyway. Someone had stolen his
genius or held it back. Probably the same people who had been feeding the populations fluoride in their meals, dumbing
down the intellect, making people more docile, and accelerating the pineal gland’s calcification process tenfold, making the
same people more confused until it is too late. Stuck in a pattern like loop. Not many people out there all worked the same
jobs. But as has been said elsewhere, in these modern days everyone has the capacity to be intelligent and hardworking with
the advent of the computers and artificial intelligence, not to mention the Google search engines. The world at one’s
fingertips without needing to move too many muscles. You had to demonstrate, apparently, and earn a respect before a
person would listen otherwise, they just wouldn’t. College degrees became useless just like all the prophets said they would.
No one on that same level felt they had to suck up to anyone else in their same boat for they were all probably just as idiotic
as the next. He didn’t want to anymore. He just didn’t have to although it would help and every therapist would have
suggested he do so. He was getting old, turning into a man if he wasn’t even one already before. That’s why most of these
people looked at him with a wandering eye, thinking he was autistic or something, and maybe he actually was. He been
through it all already and made his share of friends. He couldn’t much pick up behaviors from others anymore. He tried to
stop bringing random people into the fold for this purpose only and to woo the minions. It was passe. But in all coming of
agers they would get their time to enjoy that stage as they were well doing at the moment. He was probably wrong. But
what he did was think that he couldn’t wait until they were his age, if he would even be around, to see how the maturation
and puberty processes worked. He knew people were different though, not that some would learn slower or faster than
others but that some would still be craving the excitement of parties every Thursday night. The occasional one was nice
with his pals if there was any purpose to it. Otherwise his job dictated endless studying and researching of reports to ensure
he could pass any exam thrown at him.
And he just didn’t know what he was thinking anymore. The main kitchen light had been faulty ever since a couple months
ago; it just wouldn’t flick on when switched but you could see faint glimmering attempts from the fluorescent tube as the
switch was up indicating that it needed to be changed but no one bothered, of course. Instead, they all just used the other
light in the dining hall which would shine just brightly enough to light up the scene. And then, he would switch on the oven
light to add even more brightness. And when either of those went out he would bring out the flashlights - and even keep the
fridge door open for its bulb while prepping meals or grabbing a quick thing to snack on - nay, that wouldn’t happen. He
would just finally switch the lights on out. The bulb going out was totally unexpected as it was supposed to have a longer
span, perhaps it was already partially used by the previous tenants before they moved in. He didn’t know what to eat. He
considered the eggs in the see through carton case, some of which were missing but he didn’t know who took them, and
decided against it. They will be better saved for later, he thought, and shut the door.
But, it just wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same darkness. You know the kind. That sweet, cold, darkness just calling you
back into its void. “Back into its void?” “Yeah man, back into its void.”
After being up long enough you will know the kind. The streets are dead outside leaving ambience to a minimum,
everything except the wind is present. And if you are up, exhausted of all has to offer, you will finally meet its calling back
to you. “Join me… Join us…” it calls and beckons. And then, you have a choice. Maybe you have to be up all night and
can’t afford it in which case you’ll probably have some useful supplies on hand for the purpose of staving off sleep.
Otherwise you may just submit, or pop a sleep tablet and go off, there not being much time left anyway. It’s that sweet
darkness beckoning you to come to its sleep, which you know your body-mind needs in order to be healthy. You cannot help
but think there are so many things you need to do though, even before deserving a rest or a nap. It is a great struggle.
Once, he had fallen asleep. When he woke he opened his eyes but still only saw darkness. He double backed, tried to open
his eyes again but couldn’t because they already were yet the shade was indistinguishable from when he first became
conscious of his waking - obviously a few seconds of adjusting will allow the eyes to make out contours again.

But he was getting tired of it, tired of it all, how everything just started to make sense. Things that didn’t matter though,
such as phrases that have always made sense except he now thought about the meanings in a new light and how they had
been affecting his relationships with people lately. Too many cockroach like influences, the state of affairs in this day and
age was sad indeed. “No, I don’t want to stink your shit up,” one person says to the other. “I went for a walk the other day
and when I came back they were all offering to kiss each other’s ass crack, you know, the asshole. Like right on the button,
a nice display of relationship only they were all fine with it, no hard feelings. It was more like rekindling a flame rather than
a crude display of ancient ritual. Only way you get climbing up the ladder today. No one was really mad is the part that gets
most people, makes things seem a bit odd. You know, that’s rather a special spot right on the body right there, that particular
shape. If you’ve noticed the lips fit right around it for the special shape it must take. No need to cut it out or anything.” As
soon as he approaches the other male, he had to stop because he let out a fart. No words, he stayed in the doggy position
where the exposed chasm shone like a slightly darker pigment on already exposed cheeks. It was the only thing there so he
just stared, the deepest thoughts should have been going through his head like the situation was familiar. He turned around
to look at him, a little bashful, but he understood he knew his companion would be fine with it. “Well… What are you
waiting for?” “What am I waiting for? Can we… Wait a couple hours at least?” he replied.
He gave him a frown and they held their positions for a few moments to let it sink in. Of course, they let it pass and
eventually got into motion again. Now, inevitably someone is going to say it was all practice and they couldn’t be serious,
they’d never go through with it but rest assured it was the real deal. A nice pleasant kiss was planted on the behind with a
firm pluck. Suddenly all felt liberated. The other guy in the room casually watching, sitting in a chair with a steague and the
tv on wasn’t even surprised either so all seemed well and in order. Eventually someone needed to take a shit. And it wasn’t
like they always wanted to do it in the presence of another. It didn’t matter eventually but if anything, it became more like a
game. They had to become like trained animals, only defecating at scheduled times rather appropriately. Mostly though, to
be polite, it had to be done while no one else was around and in some circles, the practice was adapted to eating rituals,
where those who so chose had to eat alone, isolated, while possibly doing something else simultaneously so as to maximize
time and profits. For example they would have to scamper off with their daily plate in some corner of the place and
converse with other people with it. No spiteful feelings were meant but the polite approach that was taken, beginning to
border on embarrassing. And so, he went ahead and took a shit. After proceedings were at a recess there was a moment of
settling before rushing off to the john. Sammy knew he should have went first because he actually did have to go. He didn’t
want to be rude and interrupt the fun he and his guest were having, although, this turned out to be of no concern because
Mike the guest ended up rushing off anyway. The toilet paper had been mysteriously vanishing recently for some sinister
purpose and so had to be kept in a separate cabinet, so after warming up the seat, he called out, and requested more come in,
which was promptly delivered without much prejudice, or sometimes he even forgot to bring an extra roll on his way and so
had to make another trip and waste precious time. After he was done Sammy thought the only thing to do was go in, since
he was going to go first anyway and should have. Whether this was known or not Mike had to shrug it off in good jest
because he had warmed the seat up, and probably inadvertently caused a dominant relationship scenario. Perhaps, Sammy
couldn’t conceive the possibility of waiting a little longer to impress Mike with the necessary skills. He would just go when
we wasn’t around, which would hypothetically be not too soon since he had to go. In the end it ended up being a testament
to how bad he may have had to go as he must have been holding it in for some while as it were. He did the old taking for the
team or making a sacrifice. It was done all in good manner and intention. And the best part is, that was understood.
And so, someone took a shit. As per the tradition of slang when no respect or even neutrality was meant or practiced then
there was a negative connotation. It became the game where someone had to use the toilet before the other to avoid those
primitive misgivings. All parties involved really just wanted it to be over but sometimes their feelings couldn’t be avoided
or looked past. To take a shit, on for example the industry, means to show it that disrespect. It was just something natural to
the course of human nature, all these organisms were capable of eliminating the waste product… Since the dawn of time it
had became a kind of psychosis, an unconscious need to be ashamed of the body’s own working wonders. There was
probably some free will to it in that one could, and no doubt there were some already out there like that, take some joy and
pride in the act of the defecation. Usually though, there was some anger involved with it in addition to the aforementioned
feelings of embarrassment, and the need to find a secluded bush or area to do it, in order to save others from the unfortunate
sight of doing that. It was something that wanted to be erased out the collective human-animal memory. The hiding out was
evolutionarily advantage; the body is temporarily suspended from motion so if a predator were to come along destruction
would be imminent. The good hiding place was necessary - bathrooms were invented for this purpose and from this
memory. There was the quick burst that needed to get out before the individual could apologize to his company before
returning to the civilized society, others were expected to understand. It wasn’t always easy to think how their association
with someone who just had to relieve his or herself would affect them and their image. They just had to exercise compassion
with the group.
To do so otherwise, would be a deliberate sign of disrespect. An anger, confusion, misplaced hegemony boils up and in a
moment of shame someone has to let it all out, with some kind of apology delivered afterwards. Whole cultures have been
built off this idea and the world is steadily changing. Most people were susceptible to it but it had to be phased out of
society to make way for some new methods. It was like having a conversation wherein someone asks a question in a serious
tone. The responder jokes about it as per what his mindset may be, which is oddly enough to put people at ease. One thing
like humor like that always works but sometimes the person expects the conversation to continue in the direct manner that it
was, all about the serious in depth discussion to make some progress in that therapeutic manner. The other choice advancing
some connection interpersonally. Either way the sessions will continue upon their pre approved programming, so it will all
be remembered.
The other example of it would be flipping a bitch. Everyone, in their time, has had to ‘flip a bitch’, or were perhaps given
instructions to do so. No one really knows where the phrase came from but it basically meant to turn the car around, make a
u-turn. You were driving and missed the turn, well, only thing to do is flip a bitch, so they say. A pretty sensible thing to do.
It was just a cooler way of saying they need to turn around, or to turn the car around. However, in the midst of his brooding
he suddenly realized the true meaning behind it, and reveled in all the forces of language. In his mind, to flip a bitch referred
to a very specific situation involving a separate person, a nice broad, maybe, so that, remembering that these terms originate
in the slang avenues, the bitch must have referred to her, but since you were in the car, it was just that whole thing. After
you dropped a nice girl off you then drive away, as is typical, and to take yourself home or to the next destination. However,
you quickly realize the mistake you made. You must turn the car around, and go get her! If only to make a fool of yourself
and to hold her one last time that night before a separation. Maybe your insight suggests that such a display of showering
cheesy feelings upon the scene can only end well and do more harm than good. That, is simply known as bad luck. You
must realize what a mistake you made by leaving her in the first place, turn around like a fool, and pursue her once more.
Sometimes they do have to go though. That is the irony, or the humor involved in the saying.
After shutting the door Aaron made his way on back to his rooms; why not. The path required those making a trip in that
direction to walk past the couches and sofas, where Mike was evidently sleeping on. He shifted his position a little and
made a yawning sound, giving the impression he was awake and cognizant of Aaron standing there. He took it as a good-ish
sign and continued, knowing Mike wouldn’t really do anything but catch some more hours of rest.
He had to stop and appreciate the home he was in, with a decent enough troupe of roommates. Before, it hadn’t really been
like this. Sometimes he missed being alone, and even though there were occasional antics provided by the roomies they
were still able to get enough solitary time. There were even the moments of silence while in each other’s presence, as they
put their signals on and broadcasted their plans, desires, and thoughts.
They met while signed up in the civilian reserve clubs, which was disbanded shortly before the war even began, unlike a
few of the previous clubs in prior popular wars. They were assigned a pal and some of them after the disbandment remained
in contact and in the living quarters. Some of them were contacted by, seemingly, the groups who had put it all together for
even more opportunity to serve the country or advancement up that career ladder, and so it was accepted for need of general
work for paying bills and life comfort, without really looking too much into the details of the gig. It was a little bit what he
always wanted and some people didn’t even have to go to school for it, although he did, but ended up studying something
else vaguely related to it, which still gave him some chances at working in that field, even though not specifically trained
and people didn’t really need a degree in it to perform the job duties.
“I’m saving up for something special with my pay,” said Aaron. Mike remained silent and continued striking away at his
laptop computer as if he found the comment foolish yet amusing. Sammy just laughed.
These were practically the routine of things. He would be employed as a reporter. He took on the role because it almost
came most naturally for him after trying his hand at several other potential jobs. Some people were more fortunate than
others, some had to actually be constantly in danger for their work, with varying wages. It went both ways in terms of
fairness here, as some could get paid by merely putting in hours of research and reporting interviews with folks, to have
their manuscript printed or hosted online for the dailies. Thus was one way people got their news, and one way someone
could contribute their mind to the global news feed, which was something that just popped up and spread like a virus when
the technology reached an appropriate point. In the overpopulated world most good work was hard to sustain but luckily
Aaron had his fair share of skills, which were studied out of joy before he or his parent guardians even really knew they
would come in handy for a career. He was just born at that particular time in society where those privileges could be
enjoyed.
He was currently on a job to understand more about the music industry. They put him on it while simultaneously finding out
about the entertainments in general, particularly films. As it were he met others playing the same role and could even
befriend some, although this was given fair warning. His higher ups had briefed him, informing that the benefits may not be
equally distributed, although it was mentioned that if people wanted those they were free to seek it out, with obtaining it not
being a guarantee. There was some strange effect going on with populations nowadays and they needed to find out, with
those entertainment industries being a good starting point. It was semi interesting work so far although, as is perhaps normal
with all work related things, he sometimes wondered whether he couldn’t be somewhere else right now, maybe learning
interesting facts or doing something that many people would be able to enjoy the fruits of. It would make him feel good to
receive a good reputation. But someone somewhere out there must have needed the stuff they were doing. And since they
were paying, someone would surely do the work. And thus, there were practically no complaints. The trouble was always
finding qualified patients. These four men despite their accomplishments and good standing were perhaps only average, or
slightly above at best. The real trouble came when you realize the superman had been reduced and divided into many. It
wasn’t just one man holding the world up but usually around four or more. This diluted the attraction somewhat when it
steadily crept up and people only absorbed it for not knowing what else to do with it. They had in effect become conditioned
to the scenario much to the betterment of many across the globe. But, this wasn’t actually true. Groups and traveling coups
have always been sexy and attractive as far as a person’s evening entertainment festivities went.
It’s too easy to see certain things from an outside perspective, as a way to compensate for not having the insider privilege,
that word being used by default. In short if it was appropriated in that sense there was some malicious intent behind it, just
for kicks. “You aren’t supposed to work it that way,” they would say, almost inevitably. “There are two, the second one,
which is supposed to be the one you’re supposed to do, otherwise why would it be there?” would be the explanation which
seemed to be missing some backbone. Nonetheless it was the given response and worked well enough in most arguments.
Just another tool to be passed on like most recent catchphrases surfacing, and to those in the know it would have already
been phased out so by the time someone of repute heard it, they would pick up on some sixth sense about it, which partially
told him the catchphrase was becoming lame, if it hadn’t already by now. However worst of all was the effect the wars were
having on generations, particularly the youth. They just had to all standby and watch, trying to make sense of it. Many of
that world’s artists and people of influence were of the camp in the popular media spheres. The movers and shakers were the
ones who caused the wars, and enjoyed their goals via it. They all tried so hard to avoid as much war as they could to escape
all the death and self sacrifice. The were devoid of it insofar as not seeing any real combat. It was just mere sideline
commentary, humming songs in the head that already existed. They realized they could all die then and there. One power
could easily take over and manage things, not only take away standard American rights protecting freedoms but even go so
far as to proceed with the executions, not even caring anymore whether they be public ones or not. They were preaching to
the same choir. Whomever they were influencing some ol chap from the outside would peer in and quickly suggest they
aren’t the right ones the people want to be hanging around, as if there was no future. They should have been looking up to
politicians and doctors, not the bohemians or pseudo bourgeoisie variety. So they were already dead. By the time they all
realized it was too late was when it got most romantic, realizing there was no use crying in it the best thing was befriend
some more powerful people while hurrying trying to get there oneself. Some immediately changed how they actually felt
about already being dead. They had to come up with new names for the karma like scenarios, this time for all those affluent
persons who perform all the maintenance routines behind the scenes. They all already had it figured out and there was no
point in introducing new ideas. You could cooperate and do work on someone else’s but couldn’t as easily or at all create
one of your own. And it just incessantly went on and on forever. People needed rest. It’s like learning how to walk again.
I’ve since learned that the signs don’t mean anything. They are completely arbitrary. There is nothing behind it.
But people wanted answers to the real thing. The questions and situations they couldn’t have foresaw. “Listen kid, don’t cut
your hair. Don’t get a haircut. ‘f you have someone requesting you do so; don’t. It’s that simple. All that ever leads to is
regret and a low self esteem when you follow the commands like that. You get no real reward, there is none. If you cut via
your own volition, that is quite different. Most people just don’t get it.” Stuff like that, the practical things.
All anyone ever is trying to do is win. As previously mentioned things started to go downhill when the solo act became a
group performance. It lessened the value of a man, or a male, one who was traditionally supposed to carry the world but
now had to divide the fruits. It wasn’t as sexy to the couple but to the masses it was an admirable display of teamwork and
human ingenuity, not to mention comedy. That thing which can never go wrong. He had to get back to where it was good.

And so you might be asking what kind of an excuse for an agent do we have here? Someone hardly even worthy of the title
agent, no doubt, for these people have an inherent inability to share things with people. Those clever people who always
already had it figured out. He could have easily grown some but wanted to see for himself. He began a quest to scour his
homeland in search of wild magic mushrooms, partially out of boredom but really, to confirm the rumors like the so called
journalist that he was. He had to start from the top, learning the basics of mycology and the different sorts of fungi which
may contain hallucinogenic active ingredients. He had to see for himself. Just how could a piece of fungi contain certain
answers, give access to forbidden states of consciousness, stuff that could be key to saving the world? Seemed like such an
odd, farfetched concept yet, if one were willing to perhaps suspend a thing or two, something that made some sense,
something hiding more or less in plain sight and inconspicuous; you’d have to wonder that the government just made
possession of the active ingredients illegal and hasn’t begun a campaign to eradicate the mushrooms from existence. Maybe
they had special plans for them later on. After all, there were many cabinets of the government and world controlling
powers, some of them unaware of each other’s existence, and some of them even clashing head on for disagreements in
policy or debating over who should get control and jurisdiction over what. That being said the whole altered state of
perception thing has always been interesting because it asked a few fundamental questions about life and the universe which
to someone who was growing up studying science, it was interesting. The problems shouldn’t take too long to solve, he
thought. He was straight edge up until a point. Not a big drinker or smoker of cigarettes, he had been curious about
marijuana though, and voluntarily tried it but it had no effect. Thus he stopped, until years later after gaining the trust of a
new set of friends, and finding out they smoke pot, shared some with him, and he actually got stoned the first time to see
what all the craze was about. It was psychedelic, perception altering, synesthesia inducing, and just all around pretty wild.
However, soon enough a tolerance developed and he barely could get stoned anymore, which led to a bit of abuse. In order
to get a continual supply he had to contact old acquaintances from high school whom he assumed to be pot heads and to get
some off them. Well, the plan basically worked. After a while, he didn’t find much point to it, although, but he did think that
the intoxicants could have contained keys to understanding some aspects of the universe which were considered taboo or
fringe. There is a whole history of the use of these substances and it is all too easy to say that those modes of living are
considered outdated. No matter how much research he did though, and it did him good, he still had to experience and see it
for himself though, unfortunately, as it were. It was like a catch 22 thing. They would do something to his brain, and you
could say it was there working about pretty well, so that would have to be sacrificed. He didn’t drink alcohol though, as
many people did and those same people smoked cigarettes, which he didn’t, so he thought there could be a little trade off
there. He just needed to take some notes, is all. Since he was a little late hopping on that intoxication boat a whole new
world of study and science opened up for him, so he dove through just a little bit. It all started with that weed but he had
found the tales of mushroom intoxication interesting; not only that but he was always into dreams as a child and further
sought out ways to explain those and sharpen up the interpretation technique. As far as he knew, none of these schools were
so widely available but in lieu with studies of ancient pyramids and other mysteries of the human history, he just read
widely on the topics. It was as much as he could do at the time. Obviously when he heard of a substance which puts the user
in a dream like state he had to research it further. Little did he know this one was endogenously produced in the human body
and was of a completely different nature than that of other more harmful ones like meth or crack. So completely selfless to
the pursuits of scientific knowledge and wisdom, just like the heroes he had been reading about taught and demonstrated to
him. Figures like Einstein or other physicists who for over one hundred years fought and edited the theories of light and
matter eventually leading to quantum physics we know today, an idea which nearly everyone reveres. Many years would no
doubt be sacrificed to the cause. Everyone was always running around wild all the time worried about ideas and true indeed
they had to be frightened for what would make the electricity go out in their lodgings if they weren’t directly responsible for
it. He had almost given up trying to ponder over the other way people think sometimes. They just wanted to change the
whole game. People just want to be free from a logic filled universe. Coupled on top of that there were still a few issues to
be attended to. I thought this interesting to find but not out of place in a self proclaimed study of science. This subject is
largely dealing with psycho therapy and human rights the Big Bang and too much faith in science are scrutinized every so
often. If one is versed in the histories of science they might use the fact that some theories and studies are religiously
motivated which may render the logic null. The integrity of men turns out to be that they will do and work out what they
seemingly must or intend to. But the first things someone should know is that any experience of that kind will eventually
refer to religion, as do most things. Now the comparisons and scrambles between science and religion can be tricky
especially nowadays with the rise and advent of technology finally reaching the scales of most of our childhood wonders.
Depending on which one is right it will have the best advice for someone to follow in order to live an overall fulfilling life.
This will allow someone everything they could desire yet any other belief system could have better advice. I wanted to
mention it because in a scientific subject the debate of God comes into play and everyone seems to be talking about
different things when they mention or practice it. Most people believe for different reasons but as previously mentioned the
world seems to be changing with room for more openness or compassion for different ideas no matter how briefly
considered before. The Big Bang has always been a staple scientific concept required to make any progress or
understanding of physics or astronomy and how the universe works. This would normally be a big deal but with the rise of
consciousness in the popular spheres certain aspects of religion are poking their nose through, and indeed certain ancient
religions even predicted this with their second coming of Christ scenarios. But as always, the evidence for religion has been
scant at best and one must not forget that cosmology has been in the domain of the church ever since the study of the subject
first started. Many notable scientific men were heavily religions. And what does that say about the current affair of things?
Well, they could be bullshit or some fundamental beliefs or religion could obviously be relevant. The thing is when people
start talking about God they are able to justify all sorts of things and I fear they do it just to do so without any real
understanding of the Bible. Inmates on death row in prison have been known to convert to Christianity right before their
sentence is commenced. That only suggests it isn’t a real faith but indeed, the faith is the subject of the current debate. As
predicted, there would be a fundamental merging of science and religion in some way in the future, and this is because some
religions describe the universe as a specific way which must correlate with all the latest scientific thinking. The first order of
business would be to figure out what this God thing is and how it relates to life and ultimately, death. And it is that aspect
which must take into concept a thing known as consciousness, it would seem. Don’t get me wrong, the idea of a God
usually remained firm in the midst of skeptical thinking and has usually been determined wrong for not agreeing with basic
laws of physics. One also interesting idea is whether any artificial intelligence take over concept is predicted in any way in
the future of our species thinking or evolution. It could be explained as a metaphor, as in an anti christ or the second coming
itself, an event or goal which describes a thing happening to man. The garden of Eden in the beginning of Earth’s history
has usually been considered fake but in other religions it is considered a metaphor for some fundamental step in evolution or
consciousness. The thing is, you can explain many scientific concepts if you just mask them as religious metaphors, even
taking into consideration the mechanisms behind the physics and chemistry. Some of the involved sciences are considered
necessary for the practice of religion. There must be some way to separate any non sense from the actual thing, but also,
could any lessons from the Bibles have been foreseen to become obsolete in any way? With more theories about the
universe and the brain being a hologram and different dimensions and things the subject would appear to be important, and
ultimately with disciplines like quantum physics they all are set to the task of trying to solve and understand it. The point is,
it will probably make the free will-determinism debate less confusing. This is only because, with physics decisions might
play a role in the multiverse ideas, which probably involve extra dimensions. These kinds of things have been known and
debated for centuries, and when countries and accompanying families are in power with the weapons and military, it is
probably because they have been a part of some cults or sacred clubs since the very beginning. They couldn’t make any
reasonable mistakes or the consciousness would be transferred elsewhere, to their different self in another universe.
Unfortunately for an idea like the Big Bang if it were to be valid then our physics would be a certain way, affecting the
perception of time, and giving rise to some supposed alternate timelines and realities, or not to mention universe with
different values, which could in some ways be related to simulation theory. Luckily, this is only to do with the Big Bang and
any blind acceptance of it. There are other theories and considering some to be bullshit is generally encouraged, and may be
known as critical thinking, which is an important skill to have you can put on your résumé. For this reason the BB being an
outdated theory has always been considered. The church used to punish people for not believing the Earth was center of the
universe and the sun revolved around it, but eventually, science showed it to be otherwise. This is seen as a similar case, as
people in the arguments don’t seem to get how science works, in that theories are constantly being updated; no one is trying
to prove anything one way or another whatsoever in that regard. Relativity replaced and updated Newton’s laws, and the
same could be said to be happening today with GR. It is not that anyone was wrong but rather that’s all they could have
done back then, and eventually a different theory or discovery would be more right. Einstein was clever enough to design a
shape of the universe as one described in his religion so it may seem to some that he molded the facts to fit the theory so to
speak. But still, no one knows what they mean when they speak of God, whether that literal omniscient man in the clouds or
something more like an entity. This might seem to be important in any study of consciousness, as at least something is being
prayed to. A number of things can help explain the consciousness issue like synchronicity and psychology whereas
understand consciousness and mind might just help use make A.I. robots faster. That seems to be the point of progression
everyone is longing for. In one aspect, human kind has always been there in that way, made of flesh and organic carbon
matter compounds, the fascination is wearing thin and ultimately a new thing may yet again be wanted, which could even
lead to the extinction of the human race, like nuclear weapons. There are also too many ideas so that it is difficult to
pinpoint just which one may be the correct one as far as the fate of the human race goes, since that’s what we are, and
indeed multiple could be happening at once, such as the previously mentioned A.I. being an idea from the Bible as a
prophecy. Recently, in the effort to merge quantum physics with relativity, they have discovered that the origin point of the
BB or universe wasn’t an infinitely dense point, but rather a number close to it, as in the beginning of time it’s just described
as a really tiny point, not one being equal to zero which just suddenly expanded and cooled as per the laws of physics.
That’s a template for other universes with different settings and constants, in which that point could have different values.
But those ones don’t really matter much, since we are in our specific universe. Those newer theories are used to say that
rather than a BB the universe has always been this size and the way it was, and that it isn’t expanding and therefore most
likely won’t in a big crunch or rip, as per the forces of gravity. That is further used as a metaphor for when God said let
there be light, and apparently initiated the BB. Otherwise, people vie for an explanation as to how it may have been
initiated, in which case, some say there were quantum fluctuations and micro probabilities, which just happened, naturally.
There could have been things in other spaces which caused it, or someone, something ran a simulation and we can perhaps
be observed. Black holes and wormholes are still relatively important here. In it, the center of black holes are massive
enough to usually resemble the purported origin grapefruit like point that was the beginning of the BB. That comes with its
own set of implications, such as possible universes being in them, each black hole being an actual universe that way. Within
seconds of the BB initiating, everything was just a soup of plasma but as the force of the explosion expanded it, things
cooled and settled out. This happened because movement is heat, and the faster something moves the hotter it is, and the
smaller a point energy is densely packed, the more trapped movement that is with heat and energy accumulating almost like
a laser. As the mess spread out, fusion lost energy for bonds, and different particles precipitated out, in something that was
called symmetry breaking, referring to how everything was symmetrical until a pivotal point in the universe’s life, usually
taken to be a few seconds. Gravity was a result of that giving us everything we see today. The other forces that were borne
of the cooling were electrical and magnetic like attractions which held various particles and neutrinos together, the building
blocks of matter. It became eventually where everything was far apart, although there were some conglomerations of plasma
and matter and stuff which formed the first galaxies and stars. As time went on we have what we see today, and it’s kind of
hard to look back in time at the different stars, galaxies, and quasars lightyears away. Another important proof of the BB is
the cosmic microwave background radiation, which is thought to be leftover radiation from the BB that is now at the right
temperature it would have been at if it had been cooling for all those fourteen billion years, so much so that it is now
microwaves instead of actual heat or visible light. In some circles that’s just used as a further excuse for the BB. If the
universe weren’t 4.6x1010 years old then it would be infinite, and always there, and the universe would not be expanding
via dark energy as dictated by the Hubble constant. If there was no point of origin then there would, as the universe doesn’t
really expand, be no ant-gravity or dark energy like forces, which are said to be responsible for the expansion. Maybe,
because of the vast timescales involved in the cosmos it might just be easier for us to imagine the universe has always been
here and always will, and is infinitely old. This significantly changes our view of life and reality and fate, as it could do
away with determinism entirely, in the traditional sense of it at least. The physics responsible for creation of the planets and
stars still need to be accounted for, if not the same. The alternative for this would seem to have to be that time is speeding
up, newly emitted photons just go faster than the previous ones. They say when you are a kid you have all the time in the
world but as we all know once we reach adulthood time seems to be running out, fast. Some of the misconceptions may be
due to a miscalculation in the age of the universe, originally believed to be around 8 billion but nowadays rests around 14
billion years old. Maybe that helps explains things a little? It probably doesn’t. There are always more things to it. He didn’t
know. But chances are it was someone probably took a shit. Sometime and somewhere. It didn’t always feel like he was
totally in control, with all the craziness going on they all could have been being mind control. The purpose wasn’t fully
assessed so it was all around safer to keep the substances scheduled for the time being classified as having no medical use or
benefits save for the occasional government sponsored use in order to swindle some funds, propaganda, and a little
influence in hopes of doing some good out there. Since it was impossible to keep a colossal government conspiracy fully
under wraps some of the technique and knowledge were already available to the public as can be seen by all the various
books written for publication, some of them by shadier characters than others. So of course consciousness would play a role
in all this. Or perhaps I wouldn’t know. All you have to do is wait in then check to see if they did any more research on the
topics of interest. And that little fact once became renown just set the whole world on fire, people went crazy. There’s
nothing that isn’t more loved than the pursuit and adventures of scientific progress. People have said everything is one so
that was another thing the people want to know but had no time to fully research and discover themselves.

He didn’t look like himself anymore. Grew a beard, or a goatee more like it. Was sort of wondering why he felt different
lately. Surely it just wasn’t because the fact his love left him. Not as in broke up the relations but more like just ran away
without a word or trace. His mind was set on only one thing then, as he had to find some way of getting back to her. Or
getting her back, but more likely, it was getting back to her. He managed to see a glimpse of himself in a reflection and
automatically compared it to a reflection he saw weeks prior in which he was clean shaven and nice looking. He was
horrified. Looked too different. Wasn’t the first time it happened but he immediately decided he couldn’t go our looking
mangled like this anymore. Hair was fine enough for the time being but he just had to shave. He looked loads better most of
the time. A few days growth gave his face some nice texture which was just as good as the clean baby face. Once the beard
was grown in enough he could pass it for a natural look but that would take too long and he’d rather shave it now than wait
for that given the urgency of the business at hand.

It just felt like the whole world was watching him, at all times. And everyone else pretty much felt that way too once the
world went online and everything in a way become connected, constant news sources from around the world. Now everyone
could feel special because of that yet there remained a breed of people who suffered from the ailment long before that would
ever be switched on. And when it did happen the symptoms just became worse. In some circumstances they could probably
be bullied for having that, if some population would tend to understand the sickness without actually being conditioned to it;
they would emulate parts of it and when cornered turn more vicious for their own safety. They wouldn’t have to play nice.
The world was becoming more individuated. It was like a curve. Some events happen and the world adjusts, before going
back to something that resembled what it was like before. Because, it was always like that. Tribes always formed. In groups,
there would always be a symbolically stronger one recruiting cronies to ensure safety for most, altruism in practice, creating
an illusion of civility and good. It was some responsibility and there would inevitably be accidents and fits of rage, bouts of
jealously eventually but it came with the territory. It was just some part of life. Then they would wish it didn’t happen like
that by trying to advance societies, maybe with enough technology everyone could be happier. People just wanted to see
more stuff. He would get the ideas and it’s not like he would hesitate but more so wait for a right time. And in time he
learned that there was no right time. There never was. There could have been but people weren’t on the wavelength. And so,
they would want it then and there or else feel threatened that a member was hiding information, leading to distrust. They
would nudge it out, and just suggest he should say what’s on his mind. This ensured no real advantages were to be used later
on. It made it so there could be a never ending stream of creativity, apparently for the best, as new things would have to be
said constantly at the face of confrontation. It would have to be spur of the moment from then on. Everything being one was
starting to take a toll on him. No matter what he did it was all nearly the same thing, until the symmetry was broken leading
to a transfer to a new lane. So why? After all was said and done interacting with the various individuals he had to ask why it
is that people love the ones they do, or say they do. It was for the way they made them feel, generally, and at first. The
words could easily been taken aback.

It was bad because you couldn’t just really focus on one thing, let alone give a previous attempt up to change your whole
game plan in order to focus on a new discipline. More often that not, what you try to liberate your previous things with only
lead back to it, and they end up being supplemental courses of action, side exercises, that you can do to help your main goal
rather than it being a complete replacement. No one is going to feel sorry for ya. You gotta find the ones who would be God
willing for some reason.

Because there does come a point in time when you realize the whole world is against you, and always has been. These
people are really trying their damnest to make sure you don’t succeed and most of the time for reasons they don’t even
understand. Just letting it sink, this is something someone planned since the beginning of time and with all the cronies made
sure to implement obstacles to make sure success is not obtained. There were some good people in the world hoping to
engineer a solution but it isn’t always so easy. They want to see the happiness and prove they can get through all the swanky
murky evil and bullshit. Someone always had to start something, trying their hardest to make sure the target doesn’t find the
solution to that perfect something. It was all rooted in homosexuality, wanting to embody another person’s being for hatred
of their own spirit. Inevitably systems were concocted up scraping the bottom of the barrel for any ideas to make them cope,
religion included. Their only solace is that people can learn from mistakes.

Something had to be laid off. The world was changing, entering a new paradigm, but what did that mean exactly? Quite the
confused individual. There were just too many things to physically and possibly do. To churn out a fine smattering of that
would be uniquely horrifying. You wouldn’t want to open up a can of worms now. And suddenly, it just all made sense.
Visually when preparing food you would want it to look good to make it easier to eat. A nice looking product to make it go
down smoother. The quality of your food product is largely depended on how much effort was put in the preparation. What
you didn’t want, was something that looked sloppily rushed together. Sometimes, you may have had a meal that didn’t look
too good but the taste was of the contrary in actuality. That isn’t where the theory breaks down, but it is where we can see a
clear delineation separating words from cultural expectations. Everyone was under the impression they understood the basic
things such as breathing which wouldn’t normally require much second thought until you found yourself in particular
situations. For dinner you could easily warm up a homemade cup of soup which isn’t the most healthy or appealing meal
ever. It isn’t even a good idea but sometimes is resorted to. You look at it, and that’s what it is. You open up a can of worms
and it is just an unappealing thing that you have to eat or clean up or use somehow. It’s a useless thing and no one really
wants it. It is a reflection on life. You or someone you know gets into some trouble and the mess must be made right again.
It’s a can of worms. Someone has to answer for the unappealing thing and dispose of it, be done with it to focus on the
important things in life, which at that moment, perchance, would be actively working to take care of the thing. You could
imagine a number of worms being in the can which would also be symbols of cronies, lounging around and being the critics.
They are there, and once the can is opened you’ll probably usually see those things rush out. That was a bit of a joke. He
was reminded of it after getting involved with some bad people and ruminating over a lackluster dinner deal which bore
some resemblance to it. It was such a sad state of affairs.

The world seems to be going to shit all around me. Or should I say us? All these crises. Male infertility. Global warming.
Ozone depletion? Nuclear war. USA might be fucked. No world order. I might be screwed. Too many people may be
worrying about my health. I need some other job. Some other thing to rake more income in. Ruined my life hanging out
with the wrong people. Do I hope that karma is real? What do I have on my side? It all must be a lie. I've got nothing to
offer anyone but my own confusion. In the words of Paradyse. Maybe he wasn't right about everything but he had a few
things down. Let's not make it about that. It felt like I wouldn't make it past 30 if I kept this up. But it wouldn't really be a
legit, valid reason. It would be because those closest to me would “fear for my health” and while “only trying to help” they
would lock me up – for “my own safety”. Which is bullshit. It would mean, obviously, they don't really care for me or about
me and would be all too glad to be done with it. If I died, they would feign sadness and secretly be relieved I was gone. Life
would be a lot cheaper for them. Less bills. Don't lie. Life would probably be easier for them at my expense. I'm in a lose
lose here. Have no one. Girls move away to different places and we lose contact. Friends just used me and now I'm in ruin.
First rule of Freemasonry is to not blame anyone else for your actions – so that is understood. My fault was trying to have a
social life. Amongst other thing that may or may not have been in my control. This is troubling territory. Their weapon is
your sanity and consciousness. They can just say you are crazy and lock you up and nothing you can do will work. No one
will believe you if you say you aren't crazy – that's exactly what they expect a crazy person to plead! So you see, it really is
quite difficult. It's best to just not get involved with these folk who really believe they are doing something positive.

And it had to be. If you just reflect you only see what a bad set of circumstances some people were forced to live in. Some
common working men tired of being so called underappreciated and demanding they get their equal rights too, resulting in
some revolts and upset at the political systems apparently in so far responsible for all their strife, finally, after decades to
come. Having nothing else to do, no where to turn, they look within for something and anything to solve their problems.
The same people these are who had nowhere to look growing up, no parental guidance and are now confused, still
subconsciously seeking it out although never able to experience it in its original and most beneficial setting. But there were
always two sets of different people. There were the ones who actively fought and the ones who reaped the benefits of the
hard work. They were able to make their own use of it, choice willing. Neither was better than the other which is what
millions would want you to believe for the good of the human race and selecting all those more worthy of being rulers but
that isn’t true. It just was. The people did things based off their own sad circumstances, promises of glory just came with the
territory. And who knows what else they could do with it. Some just had to watch on the sidelines at home or with their pals.
The economy seemed prosperous despite the crash of a few years ago and hints of lingering depressions and so with all the
technology those traditionally considered less fortunate were able to have more opportunities presented, not to them
personally, but more so out in the open so it seemed like whoever grabbed it first, won. Yet how could this fundamental
right be excluded to all those wonderful and free human beings? Give a young cat some responsibility and see what he or
she does with it. With the right guidance and overseers it could be all well and done but we can all assume a deficit in a little
education could go a long way with something like that. So it wasn’t so much that people were hated but more so that there
was a longing for the right, qualified individuals. No more shenanigans. People were tired of all the false leaders and
bullshit, all the charades and actors, people playing roles hoping for that quick fifteen seconds of fruit. There was a belief
roles and games could be broken out of or switched, so someone could do something else. Obviously if someone doesn’t
like their job they could change it but it wasn’t always that easy. Or worth it, or possible. A gun is given to a young boy and
he trembles it in his hand, too in awe of the apparent power it symbolizes. They just aren’t ready to say the least. Many a
conglomerate would protest and say it isn’t right, that kind of thing shouldn’t be given to someone like that. It is not that
they doubt the faculties. How many lives will be ruined by a mishandling of the token? That is why there was a thing called
democracy, and the societies and forums. It seemed the most fair and sensible. For those who disagreed there were always
the quods. Usually it was recommended to “go with the flow”, or practice oneness with nature or non duality. Meaning, that
one has to appreciate what they have. Otherwise, what you mean to tell me is that everyone wants to be and can, is capable
of performing all the functions of, say, the president of the USA or king of any county at that. Lots aren’t even qualified or
willing to put in the hours, even by democratic electoral college standards. Even if that is just a social construct, there is still
a guiding force nearly synonymous with sensibility, providing good sound judgment for all - or most. I say all because
based on some laws we as people all come from the same place and logically should be able to have something shared like
that. But on the other hand not everyone may be considered ready, which could hurt some feelings, but they tell you just to
accept it, and this is the crux of the argument right now. People do not want to any longer accept the kinds of things which
could be troubling to their dignity. Military service isn’t always required and lots drop out of high school, which are things
known for instilling some discipline here or there, and even if those are largely constructs or social agreements of some sort.
The briefings and paperwork aren’t always read before signing in. It’s largely assumed and based off cultural memories as
well as some experience and common sense but the way things are isn’t always encouraged to be known, as the arguments
have shown those in power wouldn’t like that or benefit much from it. That’s what they were fighting for, even though it
hardly couldn’t not be called a lie. Whether it was based off logic or emotion wasn’t so much the point as it didn’t seem fair.
By any standard some sense could be made of it. Those in power already had it, and that’s the way it was. It was a very fluid
concept and effectively resembled the true nature of reality because of so. Almost since the dawning of time frustrated
peoples have tried to change it; they want to replace the more female form, if it must be called something, into the male
psyche. This has resulted in a more rigid structure as assets are scrambled after to maintain the order.

It was horrible. At times he found it conflicting to do anything but breathe, and observe, and attempt to learn a law or two. It
was because they were in between assignments, just waiting for the next one to start, so it wasn’t like they were effectively
lazing about. They were being pulled in all directions and just wanted some solace from everything they witnessed.
Focusing on one thing for two long made him wonder. How psychotic could it be considered? Of course it was just a state
of mind and not everyone’s opinion was worthwhile for that but he needed some balance and had to stop and devote the
time to something else such as a different activity. But the thing is that he didn’t always agree with alternatives, didn’t want
to spoil his mind by watching too much TV and yet, doing anything else for the same amount of time and more could be
considered insanity, and inane, and dull some real progress. So he had it in his mind that if there were some delicate balance
to allow optimum pouring forth of resources it had to be found and used. This is where the state would step in and provide it
already: there was the eight hour workday with hour lunch (total hours being nine). That was a system which worked out
alright but it was also one in which too many people rebelled against but once they got their mind clear they would be
devoted to it once again. Never having been in love, real love before, he failed to understand the interest and economy of
expressing such emotions. It was always a race to the finish with this culture. No stopping to smell the roses or enjoying the
variety of sceneries the places had to offer. A sad state of affairs. Feelings could easily be exaggerated and form part of a
worldview. Change the feeling you change the perception. So as it was everything was connected and only a few things
mattered, which meant nothing did, yet everything also did too which made nothing matter as well. It wasn’t hard, and the
ways to gain access were always there coveted. Recently having become available and made public, the progenitors needed
a little help solving it out. They couldn’t wait this long forever and began the open recruitment process; most continued to
go about their daily business albeit with lingering war and the elections but for those curious enough to volunteer for some
reason, usually the greater good of the world and universe, they were allowed to enroll and learn.

Couldn’t fight it forever. And indeed, looking back, it sometimes felt like the fight was voluntary, yet no one could possibly
desire all that anguish. Too many labels. If they were getting called out or invited it would mostly have to be ignored. It
could have been annoying but they said conflict builds character. And there was nothing inherently wrong with primitive
states besides the fact that times grew up. There were certain aspects of being that youth which couldn’t really be accessed
unless through the use of a religious or mystical experience, usually with meditation. It wasn’t an end but it could be
therapeutic. These childlike states weren’t much use anymore but the natives were able to use them in ways similar to what
was previously described. But evolution showed a long tract. It was assumed they were always there but as civilization
started to happen people planned out more rigorous things and games like chess and technology, all of which were based on
ancient memories and considerations. Things got more complex and sophisticated ever since the original technology could
never have been explained. It was more like an area or a starting point - you couldn’t really do much with it. These newer
forms were more nuanced and some moved towards that but there were still the tribes of those who practically stayed and
found various new ways to experience the nascent beauty power mostly by isolating it out of plants then administering it.
Thus there was a peculiar usefulness to the different yogic body form of meditation, such as the traditional mantis pose.
There was the fetal position for example but another good one was a variation on it, more like a praying monk type, body in
a ball and hands and palms face down on the ground so that you were effectively curled up in the most comfortable position
while remaining as huddled up as possible. It was an astounding thing. Everyone knows set and setting is the first important
step in having a good comfortable trip so you have to make sure of that first. There wasn’t always room everywhere to
stretch your body out on the floor flat, allowing unimpeded circulation all throughout, so in the event of that the alternative
pose had to be employed. The defense was cool but no longer necessary. Besides some bent joints and blood getting clogged
up there it was an excellent position to rest in which is sort of what happens when you meditate on those. But what happens
when you inevitably hit a wall, that wall? What happened was that it became interesting that mushrooms could do such a
thing to people - worse stuff has happened if you weren’t careful and had too much or were schizophrenic so to speak to
begin with. But what made them so magical as per their title? Certainly they were different from your normal toadstools,
which were just edible for the table exhibiting no activity beyond that. Others were active in that they were poisonous but
then there were the mildly toxic hallucinogenic species, used by people to get high. Although the first time didn’t turn out so
well and resulted in a mild paralysis, which after checking in turned out to be a somewhat common occurrence probably by
error, and so it was logically worked out and explain - thus far. But the next time we supposed he had a little more and
experienced what was more closely regarded as the true intoxication, although it was short lasting and not very intense - if
the dosage was upped it’d be different. He needed to get it through his thick skull. Not a heavy drinker but experienced the
mind altering effects rum had to offer as a youth, when his social skills were inhibited and he needed and wanted to come
out his little shell, not his shell, you know, but the one people said he needed to come out of. So in a way, it was his,
although he didn’t particularly name it. Whenever he would do that, there seemed to be a central waiting hub signaling the
onset of a major intoxication. After a long enough time he wanted to assume it wasn’t a big enough dose and began to feel
disappointed. But after a few more minutes he started to notice things more different. The previously mentioned hazing
areas. Body felt more heavy, vision going blurry. More importantly, the contours on the ground seemed to be floating an
inch or two above, which is something seen at the onset of some other drugs.

And from then it could be considered all over. People would insist on making things difficult which should be a lesson
learned around high school which is where most of those catchphrases come from. No one had it out for anyone they’d have
you believe but the very system it was crafted on had to have all the good things come from something like that. The people
learned hard lessons there even growing up wherever they may have. Some had a blast at the more private institutions. By
law. But it necessarily needn’t be so. Because all kinds of people came from that schooling environment. It wasn’t just the
poets were responsible for any movement. Most of life was just manipulation one on top of the other. Someone didn’t know
something so they had to pry it out one way or another. It was always funny until you realized no one knew what was going
on. It was turning their attention onto certain things believed it was needed to. People didn’t always think similarly. Once
they came to a conclusion, the same faulty, short hopeful thinking it always was, it was held onto appreciatively until easily
taken down once again. No one was here for anyone, it was always every man for himself. Once you realized everything
anyone ever did was always to spite you in some way it could be an interesting thought indeed. Another example would be
like the connection between providers and consumerism. The privileges would seem to only be able to be enjoyed by those
in a high enough tax bracket. Certain goods were produced and flaunted by those in that category. The poorer people
couldn’t really afford the habit. Respecting authority or your elders wasn’t always a bad thing. For some reason those wise
men usually knew better or the worst possible scenarios of something that is going to happen. When doing the arts it would
be done to predict events and the way they should most likely occur, it was done with the intent of concern for the human
race. It should always be possible to do something else, they’d have you believe.

.
She does her fair share of fighting off drones of men and boys
Mind control via art; it was a dark and stormy night and he said, what the s-

Part of his charm was that he didn’t always immediately realize the gifts he imparted upon those whom he came into contact
with. He was always so focused on his mission first, nothing else was seemingly given much importance.

It all starts with the new election of the Queen. What actually ended up happening, though, is that we got a new king, rather
than queen Hillary. This caused lots of outrage behind the scenes, of course. So in these pivotal times what exactly is going
on? Who plays which role? What game are we playing? How does religion, that all important enterprise, relate to
otherworldly experiences that each and every person can sometimes have? How does it relate to science? These are the most
important questions of our day and I have been tasked with answering them, since my faculties could be used less
effectively elsewhere. It all sometimes feels like a plot.
After a while they want you to call a spade a spade, because it seems logical. People aren’t perfect as time and time again
patterns of behavior are repeated, mistakes may be made, in your mind, as expectations aren’t met and disappointment
occurs because you can’t have things your way. Why not riot, as it were? Instead of sticking to the same ol’ family and
friends and surroundings some people find comfort in always seeking out the new, the exciting and so called dangerous,
craving a new start in life, a chance to start over with a clean slate, and hopefully reinvent a new personality. Too influenced
by our favorite popular characters in the lore, the tv shows, new issues of comics, the personages created by the media, this
lifestyle is attempted to be imitated. As we all know we only get this one life, this one chance, so people find their own ways
to maximize it, especially in this modern world which is so different from when we were kids, offering new opportunity that
people try and seize and experience before they become too old to care anymore, ever trying to remain hip and I mean
actively trying. It is a possible thing to encompass. It, actually, works for more people than you might think, although this
may due to the nature of the audiences rather than the magic the subject is weaving.

With each new thing it was just a test to see how far their love could be extended.
Sweet lovely baby. Set and setting. Maybe that’s something more what you want. And so it went something a little like this:
there was a girl who all she ever wanted to do was sleep. Now imagine there are groups of boys lounging around an are
together, which is relatively secluded. A girl and her friend wander up at a pivotal moment, not knowing the boys existed in
that locale of space time. As they were previously playing, that time has ended and it was now time to clean up the mess, put
things back, and lounge for a few minutes more while thinking of the next plot, or the next action to take, several of which
were already discussed prior to the initial lounging period except that the ruminations were temporarily interceded by the so
called intrusion of the girls. Normally, probably, this wouldn’t be an issue but you have to consider the nature of man here,
and even consider that fact that you are dealing with kids. They were quite the adolescents and there’s that well known part
about the females sometimes manifest as more mature than the guys, even at a younger age and more so into adulthood, and
teenage years too. This can give the illusion that the golden hair girl and companions are more wise and stronger than those
they come into contact with. What happens is that they burst in on the scene at the aforementioned pivotal time, bikini clad
as the brush past the larger than palm sized star leaves from the thick lower overhanging Australian licorice tube like
branches from the plants clearing the way, happening in upon the scene, as one of the boys as a jest more than likely orders
one around and to his surprise agrees to perform the brief chore allowing the other to become a leader, and as the audiences
curiously came on, were stricken with quite the scene. It could have been a love at first sight or some other kind of non
sense as it were but what it was was that they were given that choice. Even the other girl could have been looked at the same
way as people will inevitably do, that she was a bit more lax, could have been younger or older but felt only a little bit more
comfortable laying it back a bit and letting the other’s energy take on a leadership role, since she may have clearly been
motivated to stave off some kind of boredom, or make the situations more bearable. It was an attempt to make someone
proud of course, and sometimes the circumstances just seemed too dire. As the other boy performs the chore all in goodwill
and meaning well he doesn’t give in too much to the thought that there could be a lot of meaning behind it all. It was about
first impression. And of course, the leader like girl would be averse to one’s so called slave, typically. They love power, they
crave men with it, legend has it, as we all know this. It is a consequence of previously outlined reasons. Now with a little
thing called empathy or other psychological tools this can be overlooked, the manipulation can be seen through, if willing,
and the major conflict can be avoided unless they want in on the joke. Depends on the best interest.

Everyday my hard cock yearns to be grasped by your tight sweet pussy once again but the pain is unbearable as we both
know the words mean nothing now. The magic will never come back. Tainted by the hollows of failure my mind races back.
I can never forget the awesome taste your genitals contained as if your juices were an unknown kind of drug. Your lovely
young body not as mature as your mind. Your cool, elegant, grace, may it extend until tomorrow. Cant believe I disobeyed
you, my sweet love. Anything was possible, it really was, yet it was to be overcome by laziness. Or was it casual comfort.
You have taught me something you already knew, is perhaps the worst part. Or given the amount of time it took could it be
considered the best? All I know is you are the best I’ve ever known and had the pleasure of accommodating. There is
nothing else to look forward to in life now but my own casual and professional interests, some or most of which concern
you yourself. The things I’d love to show you and give, and receive, and just share in general, all in your sake. The
downside being given our age we know how annoying this is, as our parents and other friends may have done or are doing
the same. It gets to be too much, too overbearing. The worst thing that can happen is if this power ended up affecting you in
that adverse way, which I fear it already has. Is there no cure? And indeed, everything that I have been doing just makes it
worse. For example, this can hardly be said to be helping at all. Was everything already planned out it advance? I sometimes
fear that it could have been. It was all my fault, the silly fool that I was. Perhaps only lesser so today. In this grief of mine
people sometimes suggest that I have done the right thing but they can’t possibly know. That, does not make sense. I have
released you into the night of demons and werewolves, hoping that you’d come racing back into my arms. I hoped that
maybe you were hoping I would run back to you myself. It was considered and should have been acted upon, since the
entire thing was silly enough to begin with. And now, look at me. I am in worse shape than you have ever been. Is this up
for debate? Once caught, I shouldn’t have let go. I had to turn around, and did, but not far enough. People and myself
included have always considered me of above average intellect but this is a problem that lowers my faculties considerably.
You are all I ever wanted and it was finally obtained. The now just wasn’t enough was it. We were supposed to go all the
way. Believe me now, I know these things. I never want to disobey you again and even now you might be asking whether
I’m doing so or not. Some things are just way past overdue. And as you can see, this is getting tired. It’s all about helping
others and making them free, they say. But I’m not very poetic I claim, and this is getting tiring. We all know what happens
next. Some poor sap wanders along who has a reputation for being a poet and tries to woo, tries to pry you from out of my
fingers because I apparently said my poeticness is not on the same level as his. Now he wants to show you his own poetry
like it will make you smile more than what I could offer. I wonder how long this will go on. It stopped being entertaining
eons ago but in a way it still is. I’m trying to wonder if that’s good. Because how much more could you look out for your
fellow man? I already know some backstabbing is to be expected. You are too young and caring to know, perhaps a little
naïve, and trusting of the people which is a good thing but when those people get jealous over life’s pressures then you will
mature. The world forces this upon us. You are too entertained by the clever ruses people put on specifically for that
purpose, to wow and move over other people, to win them over for their goal. This is an admirable course of action in the
eyes of most. How could you have learned to do anything but breathe? Just all done trying to figure out who’s fault it is,
automatically taking the blame, which equates to there was never anything there in the first place. The plan failed entirely,
that which would have allowed some substance into the relationship.

But now I should tell you all about my own little accumulated karma here. I know the sappy morality tales aren’t that deep
and worthy of calling an accomplishment. I don’t feel proud for jotting it down and whoever may read it, I think they should
know that. It isn’t nobel prize winning stuff. What it is though is at least some necessary part of machinery. It makes the
story complete. I… Hate everything about you (her). Is that allowed? Am I allowed to say it or to feel that way? I usually
avoiding talking about it even when people ask because I know what can be described as the pointlessness. Some people
just might not be compatible and you have to love everything. I dislike slandering people’s name which will inevitably
happen should the topic come up and be discussed truthfully. There is more to it, of course. You were nice, and a good
friend if a bit tomboyish. I’m always swooned over by a real broad in touch with her feminine side. There’s nothing’ like it.
An original broad. But somewhere down the line we get an odd mix of lacking in a kind of creativity and an overload of
attachment. I really don’t know where this influence has come from but won’t hesitate to suggest probably from a good dose
of marketed television shows. This is going to be your favorite part. It was all my fault, and in all your influence absorbing
you just didn’t know what else to do or which other direction to take. Sometimes it happens. People just don’t catch the hint
while otherwise they need more time to test the hypotheses all in good faith. Someone comes out looking like a winner and
complainer on either side, at least. They say, you shouldn’t ask for more as if you deserve it. The magic is tired. This
person’s, I hesitate to even refer to her as ‘girl’, family was traditional christian, practicing heavy religious values. I was not
accepted into their ilk upon first meeting and the relationship had to be kept ‘secret’, which I thought was dumb. I liked her
at first because she was outgoing and I actually believed she was smart (I had always wanted to date someone smarter than
myself, which really shouldn’t be too difficult to be) but she turned out to be rather flat and unoriginal. I mean, really, pretty,
unoriginal. And that is one reason why I tend to avoid talking about this, because I just don’t like talking about people,
slandering their name, bringing up stuff like this, even more hate and what have you. I mean, it must do some good, right?
Besides entertaining others, of course, as if they’ll get a load of this and learn a bunch of life lessons from my mistakes. It
turned out to be a sham. I thought she was cute at first but that quickly went away where I had to ask myself what was I
thinking. I convinced myself she was, I was lying to myself because I had a need to date someone after my accident years
ago, And even months prior I had gotten close with a rather more ideal broad but it just didn’t work out, I guess. I had
always been shy and awkward while people just couldn’t help but tell me I was a good looking cat, or something, which I
never really believed. That kind of stuff was pointless to me. So here we were. Things turned sour very fast, within the first
few days of us knowing each other. We were on different pages. She turned out not be as intelligent as I had hoped -
whatever that may mean! English was her second language. Sometimes I seriously wondered if she even knew what was
happening sometimes, similar to how it would be if I were dropped in a foreign land with no practice of their native tongue.
It wasn’t good. She wanted to borrow a copy of one of my favorite novels and I happily obliged but knew something was
wrong when she started asking weird questions about it. That just didn’t make sense. We stopped talking and I was soooo
relieved, because I didn’t find her very attractive at all, I mean, sometimes I had to try to see any beauty in her because her
sisters and the rest of her family at that, were rather attractive. I got a bad hand and ended a little bit up with the odd one of
the family. We can talk more about this later. Spending time with her, it just distracted and took too much time away from
my friends and other activities, when I didn’t want to be there anymore in the first place. We went no more than kissing. She
was too horny for my tastes, but again the story would be different if I had actually found her attractive or of value in some
other faculties. You just have to try to see the good in others. But what this did was teach me a little about myself, since
being an odd shy youth I was never really able to get these lessons in my pre college high school days like most un
awkward kids get. That, plus our mom took us out of school and put us in home school, or independent study, which I tried
to silently protest; etc., and it sucked, the education I got there, was just a little bit on the bullshit side. So when I got to
community college and was thrust into that level math, it was only a little difficult because we barely did any in those home
school days. I was mad about that and still am. Nothing can ever fix that. No amount of extra training will do it. However,
the one year I did spend in high school, freshman era, was probably mostly wasted in that regard as well as I tried to impress
lots of people by hanging out with the cooler kids, and supposedly had trouble finding my own ilk. What sucked about this
is that when I was taken out, things were left just at that - I had no way of knowing that would happen, and so everything
else was wasted. After a couple years of independent study, or home school, they, my parents, or guardians, gave me the
option of going to another regular type high school which some of the people I’d hang out with later on attended but I said
no, in essence. I look back and wonder if that maybe was a mistake too. My reasoning was that I should protest, which is so
popular nowadays. Most of my friends, apparently, ended up following suit and leaving the HS, and doing independent
study. I said I wanted to go to the one they went to, but they said no. I threw a fit and it was left at that. We finished up there,
all my siblings, it turns out, because our mom wanted us to “be ahead”, and finish HS early. We barely even finished that
early. But anyway, about five days of no talking to her I suddenly hear back. She called to say her birthday is tomorrow and
wants me to come over. She arrives and gives to book back, which I am thankful for. She didn’t finish, understandably. If
you want you can ask me which book that was. When I get in the car she says I should bring my younger brother, but
knowing him, he would have said no so I didn’t bother asking him. We stayed there for what must have been ten minutes
arguing over this before finally leaving. In hindsight I wonder if there was a higher purpose to that. Why didn’t it work out
that he should have came to the party as well? What meaning behind that is there? Maybe, me and that girl would have
separated even more which I tend to believe would have been for the good all around. I think that I would have been better
paired, if anything, with one of her older sisters while she would have been a good fit for my seemingly lonely younger
brother, as odd as that sounds. It made perfect sense to me, some time later. Her get together was somewhat successful and
fun, I suppose. I just rolled with it all. I was happy only for acceptance, whereas with other people so much work seemed to
be involved in trying to form a relationship of any sort. Not long later her sister threw a bash to which I was invited as well.
It was fun, I suppose, but after that I just wasn’t allowed back at her house. I think I may have said something about having
a crush on one of her sisters, or something. This is where they say it is bad to ask for more when you don’t really deserve it.
In my mind, though, I figured there was no way she could have been my soul mate of any sort… I was too relieved to
separate from her when we first knew each other. I didn’t enjoy her company. She didn’t really mine either after a while. I
left. She left. Although with the passing of time things just happen. I tried to imagine getting married to her and having kids,
starting a family, but it seemed weird. Interesting if anything but with some of the outbursts she had, it wouldn’t last. We’d
be divorced and all my goods taken in the court proceedings. It was fake. I knew that… Our kids would have looked weird.
I just don’t want to go on about this anymore as I seemingly have wasted too many of my good years about this. There were
lots of attractive girls whom I had to pass up because I was in this relationship. They were a lot cuter than her but I couldn’t
do anything because I was involved, and I tend to be extremely loyal in relationships. So, I thought that sucked, quite
simply. I tried but could make no fruit of it. Maybe that means something in and of itself? I still have to wonder a little bit if
I know what this is. She was losing her mind because, as I said, I didn’t find her sexy and did not want to have sex with her.
I think that was mostly a good decision but in this day and age that depends on how you look at it and which people you
mean to impress, on purpose or not. I thought I was doing her family a favor by preserving her virginity. When we separated
and “ran into each other” a year later she told me she lost it and I remained indifferent. I again had trouble meeting any
other people so we started hanging out again. Same old thing, it wasn’t any different. The same issues, the same crap, the
same reasons why I wanted out came flooding back. It sucked. All I did was try. Luckily, I managed to escape again. She
took what she could from me and the way I look at it I was manipulated. My mum didn’t seem to like her much either. She
was kind of odd and wanted me all to herself but she just wasn’t enough. She couldn’t handle it and I couldn’t stand it. You
might be wondering where all the karma comes in. You could say I used this girl, for what, I don’t know. I didn’t seem to
get much out of it. I introduced her to weed, and that’s when it really changed, as we started smoking together. It didn’t fit
her, she was better off without it. She just tried to fit in but couldn’t handle it. Then, she wanted my friends in hopes they
would do her but I believe they all thought she was, well, kind of ugly anyway. I had a dialogue with a pal of mine as we
discussed a popular pop singer, said he knows what I mean by that. His ex girlfriend, it turns out, was sort of the same way
in which she looked pretty from certain angles but if you didn’t look at her right, she looked regular or what I’m guessing is
average. But please, we all know women are much more than their looks, and this space isn’t going to be used to discuss
just that. I was glad to start dating her because I wanted out. I wanted out with it all, mostly, and just wanted to ease back a
bit with a girl as my best friend and mate, companion, and focus on life in that way. I hadn’t really had that before and was
looking to use this as an opportunity. I want to be fair though. Well first of all it probably wasn’t the brightest idea of course,
and her, probably, the wrong girl but it was the cheapest, fastest, way to experience something like that. Maybe that lesson
can obviously be applied elsewhere. I should have known when it didn’t work out within the first few days of us knowing
each other. Just too eager and what not. I had attempted this in the past but for reasons unknown, probably me being
awkward with it, it never really happened. There were other, larger, prettier girls I attempted which were not only nicer to
look at but probably a little bit more mindful. I wonder how those would have turned out. Of course, I failed badly a couple
times before, as the older girls saw whatever it is that they did. I had a plan and vision though, and was still surprised that
some thought I was good looking and worthy while others simply didn’t. I ran into some friends here and there while that
happened and should have, probably, done a little more with that but things just happen the way they do, sometimes, even
though it could have been different. So who does know? Things could always have turned out slightly different, if anything,
I always say. I looked at it now that she was evil in a way. I can’t assume much but she let it all happen knowingly, while I
just did what I could. She was hoping something would happen to force us to stay together but I tried whatever I could to
get away. Any suffering I get henceforth could probably be due to that. I mean, I don’t know. The whole thing was actually
one big suffer so because of that it’s hard to say for sure. I am not sure what she is doing now. She just wanted someone to
love her, or be there for her. I wasn’t the one. I couldn’t do that for her. She wasn’t woman enough for me. It was premature,
possibly. A strange couple. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I want it to be the last time about this. Just know about
whatever responsibilities that there could be. She already met some other guy and he was able to go to their house and make
friends with the siblings, while I was not. It wasn’t fair. That’s not how it should have been. That’s how I knew it wasn’t
real. I wasn’t falling for her games or tricks anymore. She was smart for that, if anything, no compliments intended. She did
whatever she could to shield me from other women. Good for her. Bravo. It’s over. I regret too much already. Yuck. I should
have known and did. She was the evil one. And to think she was able to score some DMT from that all. I let her borrow a
book about that too but she gave it back without finishing the first chapter. Enough. I suck for it all. I couldn’t pass that test.
I wanted it for something else. You should just know that at least. I’m always working on it. Enough of this, like I said
before. She didn’t care.

Well there’s a little history, so now you know. It was just residue anyway. I only wanted to share the experience with
someone like you.

I don’t want to think about certain things sometimes. Like death, particularly involving loved ones. Not that I’m a generally
morbid person or angry at my family, no, rather, it is just facing what we have been led to believe is inevitable. Because
certainly, those days will come bearing in mind I can remember when we were kids and young but now the pangs of aging
are becoming ever more present, and sad. It is a sad thought and I don’t want to think about it. We were much closer as kids
but somewhere along the line puberty happened and we began to grow apart. People became eighteen and the American
Dream had to kick them out the house at that appropriate age so they can start a family and career of their own. Certainly
not a disastrous prospect. And as always, the parent guardians always felt distant in a way. Sure, they were there to provide
food or this and that but they were never really there to listen - it was quite odd. You hear about it all the time on the telly, or
in whatever story you want. They’d shell out all the cash and money necessary for some thing but they’d never sit and spend
the one thing that would seemingly matter - the time. And maybe these are just complaints. Maybe after a certain point in
time that distance is supposed to happen as you see it in the animal world. With mammals, they are at a disadvantage for
requiring a longer than average weaning time. Maybe, after that certain point, it becomes easier to be that distant as it is
expected the teenager to provide for his or herself at that juncture. All perfectly reasonable in a way, Forget about
expectations or growing up spoiled. That’s where a hustler would like you to believe he has an advantage, for being able to
look out for himself since his parents couldn’t and wouldn’t. these traumatic experiences carry on into adulthood and
influence the rest of behavior. But it was all sad thoughts indeed. You’d have to quickly change the subject somehow. But
what we’re we going to do about this? The parents seem distant and they’re people too - maybe they don’t actually care? It’s
some self imposed duty to provide or pay for a bunch a crap, bail one out of this or that. It was all reciprocated behavior. If
you show a little effort and care then maybe they will amplify it twofold somehow, which was bullcrap. Why couldn’t they
just truly care in the first place? Forget about as much as they could… They actually brought you into this world without
you asking, perhaps irresponsibly but you know, things happen. Before you were just a spirit entwined in some endless void,
all infinite and encompassing, minding your own, perhaps just waiting in line for another ticket to that hellhole called Earth.
It’s competitive to come back here, they all say. Sometimes people, if you will, get tired of the void and want another visit to
this place so they sign on up. If they are lucky maybe their spirit will be born in L.A., the child of some rich movie stars or
something. More often than not, some kind of karma, however, will have them born in some slums or well enough off to do
middle class family. They come back for addictions. And the behavior generally exhibited by people throughout their life is
what they craved to come back here for. It isn’t exactly noble. It was sad. It hinted at attachments which all the Buddhists
generally said was bad. Others would rather be reincarnated as some kind of flesh eating monster; very angry indeed and
their whole life would just consist of lounging around waiting for the next snack. Miles more simplicity and less complex
than the existence of a human in most ways.

Things started to get weird after a while though. Spending too much time in those esoteric areas really takes a toll on
people. The land of enchantment and all that no longer becomes a fairly tale and the fascination makes way for something
else, something more real. It isn’t fun anymore, as the pangs of adulthood come into the picture. Things become scary when
you realize all you have there is your body. You realize how dangerous everything actually is, how alone you always were,
how no one actually cared, how there is no friend not even family, it was always every man for himself, truly frightening
thoughts indeed. You could easily die, and seeing what probably lay beyond that realm, you wonder if that’s actually what
you want. But there are all kinds of spirits, and other ones guiding most things who won’t let you die yet until it’s your time.
What if it could be forced? If everything is as it should be then how does this clockwork of a universe operate? Through
some unimaginable force, since death, or life, is what it was all about, and it would be extremely difficult if not impossible
for the average modern man, perhaps some rules could be over ridden. This is only because they say if you get in trouble
prematurely they say it isn’t your time and send you back here to your body, like it was all just a dream. That would be how
the mechanism works anymore, through a dream like experience manufactured by the machine like body, which was
complicated enough. But it really got frightening when you realized some of these freaks had control. And that term is used
politely if you couldn’t tell. Those people in power who could nuke and destroy the world at their every whimsy, apparently
you had to be sure not to piss them off too much, or at all rather. They could always toss you in jail or opt for a quick
assassination and frame it as an accident, no evidence left behind whatsoever. You had to do your job and do it well. They
wanted information and you had to be sure not to slack or disappoint - and why would you? You loved your job and the
opportunities it had to offer. No big deal. It was just when you wouldn’t fork it over for the little to no payment you received
for all the risk that they got edgy, and they had the advantage since what you were doing was fringe, because of their law,
and your society generally saw it as psychotic for the most part. It was the image. In other lands it’d be less odd, especially
in the past. But nowadays, people moved on. It was claimed some essential stuff was forgotten so they sent you to go check
it out and report like the inherent shaman you probably are. So you just had to do that and no complaints, be fortunate for
the safety they provided considering you could have been killed, and that was that. Then you moved on to the next thing and
it was all kept under wraps. You still got some advantage in the long run of things but they mostly wanted to see how it
could affect policy. And again, that’s all they wanted to know and then once the curiosity was satisfied they’d back off a
little bit with their threats. They just wanted to know you didn’t think they were too weird or alien. They wanted you to put
yourself out there a little bit like they did, even if you had to make a fool of yourself every now and then for the sake of it.

You wake up and get right back into it. It never ends; this is your life. It goes on every moment. There is no escape. You
must devote your every being to it, there’s nearly no free time. As it was already the whole psychedelic movement and drugs
were already intertwined with the military. The goal for people as a whole was just to figure out how to work consciousness,
because the even further goal of that was to use the information for the construction of artificially intelligent entities. There
was a person for everything. The last thing everyone wanted was for a slip up to occur resulting in wasted time and money,
and the sad realization that everything had been for naught, not quite, rather, it wasn’t what they thought, and the outcome
made way for further foresight to come of more of the same work, only with the condition of needing to put in longer hours
if the satisfied result was to occur. You really had to stay on top of things or else get in trouble by upset hierarchies.

And in the end, none of it really mattered because all the topics were inherently moot. then you’d focus on what you thought
was important for the majority of the time until it all came back around again. Some people thought certain things were cool
and the best they could offer was their moral support which they had to, then, show through some kind of art or self
expression. That’s what it had to have meant and it was no light manner, after a certain point. They threw out suggestions
with a unique perspective that you should have understood anyway in the first place.

So what happened is that people generally forgot what was important, or they misunderstood or forgot what other people
focus on most of the time. Then upon hearing some exaggeration or so of a kind of superpower they projected an image of
their ideal embodiment upon the individual. And of course when that didn’t meet the expectations something must have
been wrong with the program, something not quite right, perhaps a lie in there somewhere, a non truth, a superficial persona
as a whole. And logically the next step was that the worse part is they couldn’t perceive or understand how you felt at the
moment given emotions were kept to a minimum for one last ditch effort at holding an exam to see if your suspicion held or
not. It was fair and unfair, since people now had the freedom to believe whatever they so chose; this freedom has always
been available. Then at any given moment you can throw another test out there provided you still speak to each other. A
long time ago some of these broads would have been sold as slaves with no freedoms whatsoever on the biddings of any gift
receiver there was. Some of the guys would have been slain no question asked or forced to entertain under occupations such
as jester or some circus worker, of course, that could be the aspiration anyway, but most people would rather have been born
under more birthright purposes for the leisure instead of performing the labor. Whether it was a bad life or not is anyone’s
preference but most try to escape the life for more prosperous conditions.

Art represents things but it was made to prevent foolish behavior and outcomes that happened to ancestors before because
you cared, and also to show what happened if it wasn’t for that reason. When that happened it was to evoke an emotional
response, to show the drama, and make one choke on feelings - the drama - which makes one remember it so the product
could be considered an acclaimed work of art.

It’s always about someone wanting to be a superstar, that art is. People will do the craziest things for attention, and people
on the outside will always see themselves as the lucky ones for not having to perform those actions, not being in those other
people’s shoes. They are the ones getting served and who have it good, while the others make the necessary sacrifices so
those people can enjoy their life. New spectators walk into the place looking a little lost when the man in a suit takes kindly
to him and wants to sell him the notion they are the lucky ones for doing less work, so to speak. Remaining behind the
scenes, avoiding the spotlight.

Not getting anything out of this. Nothing was coming. Bad or nothing. Not you, not in a million years. Our country was
being hacked by Russia for some kind of cooperation cup. The countries needed to become allies. And so it’s like if you’re
going to write why not write about something you like insofar as to show others how brilliant you be and to leave them
better off having read it. Why not be an authority on something and assert your stance into society? A no nonsense bullshit
philosophy people impose in a fucked up way to make their own selves feel better. Otherwise you must just be fucking with
the shit, man. Or just messing with your audience. But why? And why does it matter? It’s your book they need. But scratch
that, because spiritually, it’s your own book your self needs. You need it. It couldn’t be any other way. Let me tell you about
this bike ride I had once, with my friend Aaron. It didn’t really start that way though. It was just an average day at the
school. We were on campus. I think someone had detention in the library or they were trying to find a job there but it was
complicated. The local staff were already established and it was hard to find new prospective employees to fill the role and
niche. So we just cruised around campus. A couple friends wanted to meet up, let’s call them “K” & “S”. They never really
had access to any pot during those days so they needed someone cool enough to get a glimpse. It was a nice thing to try
during those days. “What is this ‘to interview an artist’ bullshit?”, asks S. We were actually on the grounds while we
shouldn’t have been and got chased into a classroom that we hoped we’d fit in. It was the first day. I was all the way last in
the back and when they backed out I had to run out which made security guards chase us. It was like a bad luck, probably
why I wouldn’t hang around them often. It was like they wanted me to get in trouble despite the good intentions. It wasn’t
good. We had to bust. There was a guy trying to kill us and chasing us but that wasn’t really why we had to go - we actually
had a job to do. It just so happened that hanging out got us into trouble which we knew we couldn’t do that much of and
discussed it beforehand agreeing we wouldn’t but somehow still got dragged into it. So we hopped on our bikes, did a few
gymnastics around the campus beforehand regarding our little fellow previously mentioned, and headed on out the track
leading towards the exit in the forest walkway path which by locals and students alike is used as a sort of hiking trail,
because that’s essentially what it is. There were pedestrians. But we rode nonetheless after ditching the previous place, how
the Asian professor guy blew the whistle. The guy chasing us was a white guy. It wasn’t really his thing. But we rode off
across the way and arrived at a village, heretofore known as an apartment complex. We had to be somewhere and this was
on the way to it. But we stopped because of the locals. He needed a fix of something I guess. There was a young girl on a
bike there, who was parked so we went over there and that’s when we stopped. She was selling candy bars out her
backpack. Now it seemed we were getting somewhere. She was selling the chocolate bars, Reese’s and the like. We already
had some and hesitated to spend the last few of our change on it or what was left because we didn’t want to be mean also.
We waited there for a while deciding before ultimately heading off and continuing on the way through this town. Ill tell you
what was interesting. She had a girly backpack and wasn’t it the cutest one, with its pink designs and stars on an etched dark
colored fabric for the pack itself. But it was obviously tailored towards that age group. It wasn’t girl scouts or anything. The
complex itself was more down trodden as well, with broken asphalt and busted hydrants, pouring springs. So did we donate
change or not? The world may never know. Yet, we had to go. It was the kind of place with green grass along the sidewalks
and sides of the place. There was a shortcut along and under some highway we could take but it seemed more wild and was
sort of like a maze. We went into it. Otherwise we would be walking into the town, which is where we were headed and
delivering our item. We ran into a pizza guy there which was where we were headed - to get a pizza to eat. He seemed cool
and showed us the way back. While we were there we were able to get a job, and worked there for some time, delivering
pizzas with the guy we met along that alley that day. And no joke, it was the time of our life. We couldn’t work there very
long though and had to continue our mission eventually, and left. The guy remained cool and stern as he continued on.

So what was really going on? Did we feel under attack? Why yes of course. She must be acting like she is dying. She didn’t
understand how it worked but she’ll just up right and back say we didn’t. So you had to play that game. It was only regular
stuff. Its as if she didn’t have any respect, probably because no one else didn’t. But they did, and just couldn’t help but
express it that way, for hopefully obvious reasons. It needn’t have to be that way. Because it was a trap. They said rape was
bad and had many people be the victim of it with criticism. But then many performed it and got away with it for no one
wanted to speak up I guess. It was the only way. You see, it was when he was in San Francisco. He was getting some kind of
reading done on the streets when a small family came walking by and the little boy vomited. The dog they were walking ate
it and was shooed. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Shockingly brain. Can’t feel it. Whenever his head would start to hurt he’d hearken back to the day his skull was shocked
during a voluntary program. Any damage done must result in something like this, he thought. Some of it must also be the
prescription drugs he was given, if it resulted in any serious brain changes. it had to be the music. It felt like his head was
going to pop. “Turn it off!” he shouted. It must be that. Maybe it was the racing thoughts. It revealed all to him. Everyone
knew Horselover Fat was right when he turned Christian after a handful of drug experiences, and we all know the
similarities between the psychedelic and religious experiences. So we were just living in it now instead of any other time.
Consciousness was just a field used by life to access the space-time.

The whole load of it was some hellishly freakish concoction in order to feel more self important, the characters being
symbols and representations of memes and fads no longer wanting to participate because it just wasn’t fun for them
anymore, it wasn’t a game, it was cold hard reality and the struggle, and it couldn’t be seen in any other light for them. No
one cared enough. He was scared of dying. One broken neck away from some form of paradise. Cars driving away, sirens
going all night everyday. Little beeping sounds too, off in the distance. And then, silence, just an occasional car off in the
night, construction work, but mainly the wind and air cadences. It was a rather unpleasant sensation like a guy standing
behind you and hinting his erect shaft in between your crevice fully clothed but suggestively as if he had plans for you later
that night if you didn’t behave.
Comments about someone being happier while not in the company of the one supposedly making them miserable were all
incorrect reasoning of course, and thus invalid, not to mention technology causing things to be more complicated by making
itself art and being a point of discussion. You could take just one instance and make it what you want to be, for not being
able to bear with what life showed. They were just stoned the whole time. And did that count? Did they know what they
were getting into? Put better, did they know what they were making people think, what they wanted to hear, but what may
not even be true, knowing it’s a challenge to reason through and see it that way so most wouldn’t, and would learn what
would be best case scenario for their own self? A guy who couldn’t write to save his life. Writing was a service. You should
have to have a clear goal first so it can be presented in a clean format. You should know who your audience is what they
want, what they expect more importantly.

It was like letting out a strange fart while sitting in a chair, writing something. Indeed, you didn’t have to be situated in a
chair or anything but it would provide a backboard for reflection of it onto the important parts to make the fart what it is,
plus the fact of dictation. It wasn’t the most odd thing in the universe but everyone had to have done it in some form
somewhere, so it was relatable. They couldn’t pretend to be Gods. But it was all a team up. The good ol one for one, if you
didn’t have anything good to contribute you’d be booted out the camp. They wanted it to be like the weakest link. Two guys
hanging out with nothing to do. They were just gallivanting. They could have made better use of their time by investing it
into athleticism even though they came from one. Sports like football or basketball didn’t count for them. And then, they
didn’t go career athlete or scholarship.

What a strange existence it was, being only a source of entertainment unto others. Everything you did was to make them
happy. If you didn’t you risked a kind of impeachment. The world wasn’t always like this but it certainly became more
noticeable the last few years recently, as time went on. And not to connect events but there were sometimes other things in
life that seemed unusual. For example one time he went out and instead of buying a boarding pass, someone gave him a
ticket. He used it then and there instead of saving it for an occasion or anything, but it expired in a couple hours so he’d
need to use one again. On his way back he was going to pay the cash but instead, he found one still active there. It had a
good thirty minutes still left on there so it was still useable. He took it and used it. So he ended up boarding for free that day.
Sometimes he went to the other station equidistant away but this time he definitively determined to go to station A.

Movies and films have made our lives focus on intervals of time which was wholly unnatural before. This doesn’t mean it
was a bad thing, just a new one. They were made to temporarily induce some empathy in the viewer, the proverbial forget
about your problems for a while, as if that were a good thing or necessary. That was as if you had to stop working on the self
and instead take the time to watch a film, but also any stimuli gained from the viewing can help in general life lessons. The
only trouble is how it became industrialized and nearly monopolized.

He had to have at least gotten to a certain stage in order to see a particular meme, at least. Progress would be difficult
without that. But there was a one true path, from which deviation generally occurred. Religions and belief systems were
held in place such as Buddhism to try and stay on the way, or exercise the way. Forms of meditation could be said to help
with that as well. The more you did things you weren’t supposed to do, the more you deviated from the path. It was quite
simple.

All the cheap couple groceries always gone in one day.

So you think you can just show up and have everything to do with love I Haven’t seen you in about as long of a time since
ive seen my cuz crumble it up like well deserved they know what I’m talking about, look at them jump thought it could
make you more of a man if you could make them understand but you were wrong that never was to have been done until
earlier

“I’m really scared what I’m gonna find on there,” he remarked.

It all came to him, in the visions. They were his, because it was his life and that’s what he had in it. He was born with it and
no one could take it away. That was evidence enough that they were thieves and wanted it all for themselves, in those days,
that’s what they were. They were born with that. And they didn’t mind because they couldn’t figure it out how to make a
better life for themselves.

He hesitated only a little bit before consuming the handful of mushrooms. The taste wasn’t so bad. Knowing there was
going to be a waiting time for it to kick in, he decided upon a book. This was going to be unusual but within the next forty
five minutes why not settle for something quiet and tranquil? It was almost too slow paced and sleep threatened but he
managed to stay awake and keep reading. It would be easy to notice if something would happen. Shortly enough his vision
began to change, so that was a sign the mushrooms actually worked, a good sign in other terms. His body started to feel all
heavy again. He’d heard about that and experienced it before too. Everytime, he forgets until he remembers, it all comes
flooding right back. His vision going blurry, he closes the book and slowly slips down the bed, before lying on the floor.

One big golden booger is what it was, scooped right out of the nose. You could have done what ever you wanted with it. The
stone went so far as into being awake from a dream state and having that one interaction a summoning of the forces. Just a
few more pieces of chunk floating around in the broth of breath. A glowing nuclear atomic cup of soup. Vomiting out any
dry extinguished remains from your mouth, all gnat and insect infested as it’s expunged and heaved over, a dry valve giving
up nothing useful.

But it was hard. He’d rather have it so it proved dumbness. It was two million against one. There always was a lack of faith.
Thomas Hartgood would always say.

Two hearts.

Unfulfilled desire.

The visuals were taking over. All it was is that of the plant spirit. He tried to read its language. Before it quickly wisped
away he thought they needed help. Maybe he tried to think too much. He slowly had to come out of the fetal praying
position, the most comfortable for the type of vision seeking that could happen while conscious. There were numerous
models showing a connection with infantilism and the kinds of psychedelic substances available. A truth with the nobleness
of a raw chicken specimen, before it is boiled. So there was a kind of prayer meditation aspect to it which was comfortable
in that position enabling a sleep like state that allowed concentration on closed eye visuals and other ticks of birth/pre birth
symptoms. But there was also communication with an other, some kind of voice. Was there any message at all? No, there
wasn’t, not besides what you would usually get. Man had already seemingly figured out what it was about. People in the
past used them in religious rites for healing purposes and this must have had a say in what they were capable of.

So many ripe worlds rich for potential exploration. They didn’t know why art had the healing potential. People were always
doing something, largely reactionary. They always had to improve on their fellow man is mostly what it was. In a way it
wasn’t that creative even in the context of creating art but if something were to be a response then it would be none really
needed while there were no spiteful actions going on. If it was a quick retort then it was what it was, as represents art.

Imagine a woman asking what has been brought to her. There was a strange straw like monster giant insect with a funnel
like head and ant like exterior, besides the texture like that of a twig. And then a molesty pancake sand monster squirming
its way out the crevices, all syrupy and dripping with liquid sugars.

The worst part about the explorations were that barrier point he’d inevitably come to and couldn’t go further. He needed
more skills to bring that back to the real life. That’s what he’d have to be doing in the interim - acquiring those skills for his
maximum happiness but these incredible forces were always working against him.

Cut out. Lights off. Just take another one off, they told him. For that one, just take a few minutes break, take a longer one,
just take the rest of the day. They weren’t getting anywhere so they had to call in a comrade to have further prospects for
their aimed success.

So what was the significance of it all? Besides for the art no one knew what was going on. Everyone had their job, their
role, their niche. And he was getting into the reread book stage in his life instead of reading new ones. There would be
valuable info in them that he would have forgotten until then, unbeknownst though to the stuff that did stick out to him on a
first read. There were nurses and doctors all studying things throughout death. First it was known that light suppresses
melatonin production, being in darkness promotes sleep. And tying it all together there were similar patterns elsewhere in
the human mechanisms.

Sometimes you just wake up and wonder how you made it through it all. It wasn’t just religion but there were too many
different ways of life to adapt into. Some called for reincarnation or karma on and on throughout life and forever. It was
scientifically based, or there reached a point where the two had to be reconciled, making the happenings not too infrequent,
and the principles being available for thus. So it wasn’t always out of the picture or not responsible. But someone was
always trying to tie it all together usually through the use of various methods and it never worked out well in the end, that is
to argue whether during had any merit itself. Eventually the problem of consciousness gets involved.

Powerful galactic mega crystals obtained!

Okay I admit it. When I was younger, growing up, I used to listen to Insane Clown Posse, or ICP. I didn’t just listen to them,
I was enthralled, I had the whole collection, I bought the merchandise and wore the clothing, hung out with other
aficionados. So the behaviors rubbed off. The more embarrassing part is that I found out about them by my initial love for
Vanilla Ice. Okay, not that embarrassing but still apparently they did a song together, and I heard it, and that’s when I first
heard of them, basically. Actually, a long time ago when I was in the second grade, is when we first heard of them. Catch is
we just didn’t realize it at the time. I say we because it’s me and my siblings. We were fans of wrestling, and it was,
apparently, back when they had a stint on WWF, back when it was still called that. They did the titantron theme song for the
group they were a part of, the Oddities if I recall. And basically, it was remotely catchy and we would sing it, as it is normal
for siblings to do. Fun stuff. It wasn’t until years later, after I started listening to them, that I rediscovered that track, and it
was as if it were meant to be. Full circle, closed loop, it was them all along. Of course, I grew out of them eventually. It was
kind of lame listening to wrestling theme songs. The song just didn’t hold up anymore and knowing it was them, just took
the appeal away. I had to cut it out but the usual excuse is listening to them also introduced a certain conditioning to the
music you are privy to, and will have a natural distaste for anything mainstream or pop. Listening to them, allowed the ex-
Juggalos to have a more experimental bent when it comes to choosing their music, a sort of openness that no other fandom
could provide or make mandatory. It was a free spirited interest in music from then on; nothing could really possibly be
worse. But while I have never seen them in show even til this day the connections I’ve made with other people have been
remarkable, the friends I’ve made because I sported one of their shirts on occasion.

Smoking the pot was like scraping the top of your skull with something.
Then his head would start to pound as if he heavily smoked. In fact one of the reasons he had a limit there, that he couldn’t
smoke more than four or five blunts in a row at a time was because the residual throat damage or soreness plus the headache
feel that he would get. It couldn’t be exacerbated. However with the edible, all that was bypassed and landed immediately
beyond those physical limits where it exercises its own properties, and delivered a head ache so staggering he effectively
said it felt like he smoked twenty or so blunts to the neck!

[herestart]
This is a transcription of the original DMT journals I kept during my initial experiment. I usually smoked a dose then would
write about it, or my thoughts and impressions. Some of the visions I thought I would remember them forever and didn't
write them down at first, to save time, and would write it from memory later. I realize this approach might not make sense
now, but the nature of the DMT psychedelic experience sometimes is hard for certain users to remember or recall at all,
somewhat like a dream, although there are techniques that people can use to make their dream recall better by training and
improving it. DMT however, by its nature is hard to remember and impossible to really describe in the first place.
Sometimes it can be described, though. I tried DMT a few times before this and read the Spirit Molecule as well as
watching the documentary. I also had PiHkal and TiHkal having read PiHkal, and was starting TiHkal. I was in school most
of the time then and didn't have that much time for recreational reading so I couldn't read TiHkal that much in those days. I
was well versed in the material as is, including some Terence McKenna experience. I was basically looking to experiment
with more DMT and this was one of the only ways of getting it. I've decided to add some commentary to it, so it isn't just as
straight replication of the journals, adding current thoughts and insight as well as further detail not written in the book. I add
question marks to parts where there was handwriting I couldn't read. In addition, I'd like to add an apology for not getting
this out sooner like originally intended. Due to this, I had some trouble transcribing, as previously mentioned, and I couldn't
accurately place which vision to the according experience. Instead, my memory of it is like one big splash of psychedelia.
My handwriting is sloppy, like chicken-scratch or a doctor's, so that certainly didn't help. As such, I am taking trouble not to
embellish any of it, and to make this experiment as enjoyable as it was interesting. Thus, the writing might appear jumpy or
unorganized, and not as mindblowing as hype would suggest. I do know, and can assure you, though, that it is every bit
amazing or mindblowing as anything else would seem. It is it. Nothing can really convey it besides the actual experience.
Anything else is just preparation or research.
As he prepared his body began to feel a heavy nervousness of the same kind when it knows it is choosing a dire investment.
In a way, it was almost like sex, that is, it made his body feel scared because of the risk like if his ???? ??? mess is up here
he's done for good, his body being incapacitated by a heavy emotional investment, like being shot, maybe. Particularly the
moment when the body is actually shot, and going through the moments of trauma, probably flashing the life before the
eyes or struggling to figure out how it's going to get out of this one. And it had been the same feeling he had before, years
ago, when he first approached the sacrament, by happenstance. Really prematurely someone asked if he wanted some ?
exchange for donation, and he figured he couldn't, mustn't, and wouldn't pass up the chance. Having heard stories of bad
luck brought on when taking shortcuts to access the thing, he thought it may have been worthy of the risk. He also heard
people declining their offer of smoking it because they felt they weren't ready, something he considered rather respectable.
Taking one whiff of the case he felt the characteristic odor it possessed and felt safe enough it was close enough to the right
thing.
“Hub” What an unfortunate thing route of administration is. There would be a lot less worry if it could be got in straight,
there would probably be less overall confusion (and waste) in store in part because of the other constituents (sandwiched
with weed; ash is the other preferable method for the more “pure” experience). Getting [I can't read this part] of the
characteristic (over?)
It was akin to a program loading. Slowly descending from above or out of thin air like the geometric shapes. From here we
seemed to be waiting for the show to get on the road. When it first begins we couldn't help but feel it felt similar to salvia, as
you ease into the space. It comes from within like, “It's right there!”, and it has been the whole time. It was familiar. And,
it's like the circus has come to town. I would hear voices, presumed to be inhabitants of this other lair. It was ?????, shall we
say, “positive” although they do have a “tough love” sort of relation as well as a carefree contemptible yet parentguardian
sort of relation with you. They would be delighted if you took on an interest in their culture though. Analysis Honestly, I
can't recall accurately which trip this is referring to. I can't seem to match it with my memory, it being the first in the
journal, so it was presumably the first of the batch I had smoked. However, I can piece this much together. The fact that it
was like a program loading only reminds me of one thing, except I don't recall it being the first one. Nonetheless, it only
reminds me of the “spaceship” that I saw and descended from above, which was actually the interior of one and looked like
a main hub control area. I can't really describe it except that it “looked hella tight”, and was exactly what it was: a
spaceship. I don't think it was a chrysanthemum, which might not only take on the appearance of a veil or flowers, usually
an orange burning like color. Because, it usually feels like a program loading before you break through anyway: if you don't
already breakthrough in the first place based off your technique. There was other stuff going on too. In that trip, a
psychedelic, holographic desert also came into view, and was there simultaneously with the spaceship interior, which mostly
stayed in one space and didn't totally change too much, since it was that hub area. It was moving and changing some
though. The desert had tumbleweeds blowing and strange alien plants growing out the ground, and the scene was moving
along. It went on for a while, length wise, when my eyes were open I could see it too, except overlaid over my room, all
realities at once. My mind was split. It went past my room, but it was as if I could almost see the horizon. The
“holographic” quality gave it exactly that feel. The spaceship looked different but the same. It was “more realer than real”. I
don't think this entry describes that part though, since it was “like the circus has come to town”. Also, I'm not sure what
those voices specifically were because I can't remember, besides basic entity contact.
I'm not too hard pressed to say that this trip report actually reveals a new, novel experience that I haven't really described or
told orally yet, so it may have faded somewhat from my initial memory. The psychedelic visuals are exactly that, they are
psychedelic and not much else. Beautiful is another way of explaining it. I do remember the way the entities felt, though, or
at least my interpretation. If entity contact in this manner is actually the case, it would mean they are near omniscient by that
very nature. So they see and know all, as messengers or heralds of the other. Maybe I made a mistake, then, in my life to
cause them to feel that way or give me the overall impression. Maybe it was a confusion as to why anyone would want to
visit that place as it were. However, they did recognize me as being there. Maybe, it was an “Oh,this guy again?” kind of
thing. Maybe my visit or experience was too premature. So it's like, you don't notice it until you do. It also seems to suggest
that you could access these states or “mystical realms” sans the use of any drug let alone DMT, by perhaps meditation (Zen
Buddhist breakthrough kind), holotropic breathwork (which may not induce exact DMT-like visuals or visions), or
kundalini yoga, which causes a kundalini awakening, by opening the third eye, which DMT does. However, the visuals, or
“graphics” might not be exactly the same. The whole program loading thing also likens the human to a computer, these
mind states being generated by the brain and its waves, not completely unlike screensavers in that regard. Except, of course,
DMT will always be more insane visually and out of this world beyond than anything that can be dreamt up here in this
realm. The geometry is just different. It's like going to different dimensions, your body still there, or accessing different
states in the mind.
Futher Commentary? It's the lizard complex, regulating and concerned only with survival, reflex, and perhaps some type of
consciousness. He collapsed on the floor, or rather, just voluntarily entered a position more conducive towards sleep, for that
is nearly exactly what the stuff he was dealing with was. It gives the head a decidedly sharp tingling, a shimmering tinge, an
almost painful sensation. Comes with the territory was the initial, starting conclusion with that, for now. Would he ever be
the same? He heard tales about the process converting people... Possibly even for malicious intent. Whatever was going on
there it was perhaps in their best interest to be a tad friendly, so as to attract visitors and reap what it is they need, and the
visitor can perchance satiate his or her curiosity. He thought he saw someone there, to his left. For some reason there were
always things in the periphery.* Just to hope that maybe one day and with enough time it would become clear. There were
some other “people” there already. That this is what essentially happens when you dream is the hypothesis. Part
hallucination... Part reality part memory? He opened his eye to find himself face down on the carpet, the stuff wearing off
and reassured he was in the process of making new allies, cast a glance once again at reality. He was dead facing on the
carpet & as soon as he opened an eye saw a face on the pattern, which was grinning largely like a cartoon character. The
message received from it is that they were still there and to not worry. This appears a typical one, according to the literature,
and I wonder how much truth there is to it. This was probably temporary and is the part of him hoped he wouldn't see these
signs everywhere from now on, as if the paranoia from weed wasn't enough. It was more of a faint disbelief such a thing
could be possible & if so helpful rather than a hope of fright of this mysterious nature.(?) And after recovering there was a
faint glimmer that he could go back for one more brief visit. The dose wasn't measured out so he assumed it was a modest or
low one, when he had it it produced a feeling of being intoxicated, surely, but there were no visuals or other fruits, just
thoughts that would be typically associated with such an intoxication, probably, and a raging headache. ????? ??? ???? ????
a slimmer of his normal consciousness a physical sensation related to pain (?) took most control, and with a sorry grin on his
face he rode out the rest of it, his body contorting nigh uncontrollably in circles, and trying to find a good part of the room.
He knew if someone saw this they would think a psychopath but he would have to find a way within seconds to assure them
it would all be over within a few minutes now
and that unfortunately he was the victim of either an overdose or consuming too many amounts of most likely impure
product, which may explain the majority of the quality of the trips so far. So as you could see there was nearly nothing to
worry about: it may be something like this. He had to be reasonably sure he had enough of the spice on him since ?????. His
body, let alone brain, probably just weren't responding well to it all. There was a faint glimmer of contact like from before.
They told him to go outside. He had been sucked dry, eyes closed[?] as he lay on the floor. The last thing he remembers is
being looked at as ?? by his new other worldly friends. They looked down on him then, sort of moved about him, but kind
of looking forward to the next time they met when he had something new for him (that is how it's written in the notes,
although it could be a typo for “them”, same with the “he” - or vice versa). Or so it seemed. Anything he saw, which would
also probably be proven badly sooner rather than later (although perhaps not?) [I am unsure what that is supposed to mean,
in hindsight]was that that totally wasn't the case and the next time he returned they would feel the same feelings in the same
type of situation but the explanation would be different, it was just like that that time. “What an interesting concept. I
wonder of the applications...”, he muttered uselessly. They left & there he lay, wondering if he really did deserve a little bit
more from that experience. If he was a beginner then, perhaps, although unlikely, it was a ? lesson in the overall scheme of
things. The particular steps leading[?] to this, the whole of it nearly. Further Commentary on Further Commentary In the
notes to that entry, “sucked dry” is written in the margins. In retrospect, I don't know which trip or experience this is
referring to, although it may be the first in the series of “Psychedelic” smoked DMT trips, which didn't take place in
sequential order. The lizard complex is related to the third eye, or pineal gland, and how it is a part of our brain still. In other
animals, such as lizards and reptiles, it regulates body temperature. “Would he ever be the same?” is an interesting
comment, and quite the statement regarding how powerful a psychedelic's effect would be. It is fairly typical to hear, not to
mention after a bad trip especially, that someone was never the same after a strong mushroom or LSD trip. My comment
was more tongue in cheek, although, it still was really strong, taking me by surprise. I had tried DMT before, and it was
strong, but that was just mindblowing. “He” (which is me) would never be the same because those visions just can't be
forgotten, not just how they looked, but how it made me feel. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen... But isn't it
strange the most beautiful thing you ever saw has to be induced via a drug, rather than being like an act of kindness or
something?
I felt like a booger pressed upon the Earth That's all that's written in my notes for that entry, which is next to an asterisk.
And, it is the general impression I'd get from those breakthrough psychedelic DMT doses that would make it hard to move
and put my body in a sleep like state. I think I was going to write more in the journal on this later but forgot.
Trouble in the Land! That is all that's jotted down on that line in the journal. The following should be related, if I didn't
forget to add more again. Also in the margin notes are some scribbles: a date, [6-23 (omg)], [Waluigi, why?], [fleeting, born
again?], [Getting molested at first, followed by a good trip!] Still have some bills & work to do this week. Have been having
trouble contacting HS (hyperspace). Have I been abandoned? Not good enough... Still all a lie. A truly alien territory
because that's what we've been told to expect. Afterwards, it is no more than a big nothing. That was the best definition of a
truly alien, bizarre, foreign world we as a species could think of, manifest. Not a bad effort. I started the session being eager
to meet up as it had been a while. Loaded up and ignited we went, but maybe stopped short. I went down. I turned around.
Was able to have eyes wide open and the
room seemed to extend. The colors were vibrant and glowing. Everything looked angelic and almost too bright. This was in
plain stark contrast to when it ran out, vision having returned to normal, and saw how dull & grey everything now was
again. It was quite breathtaking indeed. Then I was able to confirm the wavy hallucinations seen on the floor and walls, and
note the characteristic jewel like patterns & that Latin American-Alien tinge, usually just associated with the hyperspace. I
closed my eyes. This time I saw with awe how spectacular this vision truly was and ventured to walk outside the room's
door & see as much as I could, a truly worthy goal. However, I struggled to get up and move too much and was nearly
forced to stay. In this state I was accompanied by an other, a Jesus lord like presence. In this critical state it would seem
reasonable enough for an individual to cling to any safe haven they can, such as a guardian like archetype, perhaps a JC so
associated with the religious psychedelic experience, but having come across these ideas, volitions, and experiences, some
of them myself, previously, I remained calm and tried to just go with the flow. The presence said “relax”, and motioned me
to simply lay down for the rest of the experience rather than physically exploring around to test out the eyesight. He seemed
to understand my dilemma, pain, laziness, and was probably even hoping I'd reject and continue on myself, the opportunity
being too rare to squander, nonetheless. I acquiesce, and relaxed it out, for better or worse. That was all the contact I had
with that presence, and was markedly different than the usual encounters with “entities” there. As is obvious some exercise
with the body would seem pleasant. After having that, I wondered if I could break through but nothing seemed to work. A
terrible feeling. In my possible insecurity I was grieved by slight, distant arbiters, asking what I was doing back here in an
aggravated tone, but after I heard it I nearly immediately understood and was vanished, and I was left with the mixed hazy
feeling and some lingering shapes, as well as new lists of errands to run while I wait for my next major assignment... The
least I could wholesomely do. But these spaces are all too familiar. After having exhausted the novelty of pot the user then
chases an odd dragon, the weed dragon, not nearly as pleasureful, more convenient perhaps, but quite totally opposite of the
initial attractions; to each his own. And yet a similar experience was happening here. The subsequent smokes produced
nearly no visuals yet brought a somewhat heavy feeling at least, rich in thoughts of a sort – either my tolerance was extreme
or something began to be wrong with my methods of administration. I had heard detail about tolerance and couldn't believe
if that were the case yet I'd be all to well to get away for a few days and these other things. Previously, I had definitely been
shot to dreamland, so what was going on here? Maybe the extreme heat. You see, this stuff seems to be or reflect the
ultimate mammal experience. It's just the pure mammal, in us at least, thing, that we have, also considering the biological
factors it plays in us. I am of the firm belief that, well, these are dreamlike lands, or realms, dimensions, hallucinations, that
play a more unconscious role in survival, but here being jacked to maximum levels, allowing a rare glimpse through. Can it
really be that important? Well I'd get through one time to have my closed eyed vision overtaken by things... Moving images
perhaps. There are levels to this, different ways it can happen, different paths the trip could take; like different aspects of
this thing called life it will highlight. I am not sure how to pick and choose. But I suppose that you can hear a buzzing or
some kind of noise signal indicating an oncome. At first there seems to be the waiting hub, or some central loading dock.
There can be guys there, like gatekeepers, I suppose, if you can notice them, but this is like the press start screen to a
computer game. If you just wait here admiring the sensations, which I suppose could use an extra kick, the trip will run out,
expire, all the medicine having been metabolized. Also, with all the visuals you can begin to notice tears in the midst of the
fabric, perhaps intimating it's possible to go further, kick it up a notch for some reason. The origin of these notions or even
the hallucinations themselves could be due possibly to culture and tales of the experience passed down throughout the ages,
possibly being myths waiting to be expired, or particular phenomena just asking to be elucidated upon. Nonetheless, that's
how the lore goes. Take that one more extra hit to go all the way through. Everything exacerbated. There were neon electric
blue screens everywhere and I saw images of “Dave Bowman” and aliens, and bad people searching for the safe haven
world. We wouldn't let them find it, lest it bring the usual ruin, exploitation, destruction. Perhaps that is already actually
happening. There was some yellow metallic there too. But everything was beautiful. Stretching sensations began to enter my
every limb, the only comparable thing I could think of was being refreshed by a well sleep, the body being generally
rejuvenated the next morning. Internal processes taking their course. In some part does the medicine play its part there,
naturally? The trip thus ends and you might be hard pressed to claim you weren't born again in some manner. If you see
enough beauty there you might be sensible enough to realize there are no words for it, a realization that may just be enough
carryover into the real, waking, physical realm. You may even cry, as it was the most beautiful thing you could ever see,
take in, realize. But then, you realize such an artificial pumping can't possibly claim the most beautiful status... Can it? How
could this be attained sans artificiality...? Lucid dreaming & yoga? The process of using all that effort with your body & life
to attain such glimpses... Must in some part be related to searching on the end of a glass pipe. The process of igniting it.
Whatever the stuff is made of it sure is breathtaking. The metabolic process may then promote those feelings of awe,
appreciation, humbleness; etc, all those residuals being related to sleep, wakefulness, and life, somewhat. During that
particular visit with the extraordinary scenery there was also something else, what seemed to be a visitor. He would jump in
front & sort of dance around the screen in an almost mocking manner. This would distract from all the visuals and seemed
to have an overall negative impact on the experience. “Waluigi”, I took it to mean something as part of the overall
mammalian experience. Something about that, ultimately, is what life is about. Whether someone likes it or not... There is
nearly no escape and just something one must deal with seeing as how they are a part of it. In fact, the whole of it is just
integrating it. That's just what they're doing there, or what our feeble minds are equipped to portray it as. Right after the God
vision and while I was laying down in an imitation of the first few original HS sleeps there were vague intimations of the
cannabis having slowed down the stuff, allowing for more time to take in the environments. Maybe something wasn't
pleased with this? My gosh, that could be the biggest load of investigative journalism ever, should that not be the case.
Regardless, perhaps there is just a fundamentally adverse effect upon the organism, and we have noted pros & cons – no,
inhabitants just seemed particularly withdrawn, not necessarily pleased. They were quiet and looked to be working on
something. When I was able to move I slightly lurched forward to try and follow a direction. A starfish shaped entity
slightly looked up from its position on its back and stared for a second before losing interest and going back to work. As the
trip obviously ended I waited the rest out, the last remaining glimmers of someone, something, trying to tell me something.
There seemed to be four different directions but what I had here was the up or north facing one, who took on the role of the
first teacher. It was pumping something, like an arrow or thick red band shaped like a tongue (*I hardly actually remember
this at all). It just kept doing the same thing until it faded completely, in all its turquoise metallic splendor. I had to wait til
next times to fully learn all it had to give. You may even be able to keep going. Hopefully I wasn't just getting too high. It
seemed they were getting more lax upon the rules and rites; or requirements. For danger of extinction they no longer cared
about administration or how they got across, just as long as they did, in their now current sad state, everything melting down
together. Well then. Just because you get something doesn't make it true or what has happened. Especially in these territory
it should be easy to trick the human nervous & perception – the stuff happens everyday on many scales. So here, especially
while under one should learn to dictate well... And hopefully not be too carefree because of that. Unless, of course, that is an
appropriate response to that. However, people usually become sad after extensive miscommunication or lack of such
contact. And at some other juncture I had the radio on while preparing a ride. What happened here is I collapsed
as it kicked in and everything was supremely present while I was in this stupor. I saw blue skies with fluffy clouds and what
sounded like birthday cake anthems playing in the back. As I came more to all these sensations were blended in with the
female radio host's voice. She specifically spoke of the end of something and, coincidentally, at that moment the major
visuals came to an end and I was left on the floor to recover, the lingering feelings of having been born again & out of the
womb dissipating every second, the infinite wisdom of heaven subsequently being forgotten like a dream. Then male
broadcasters began speaking, which brought terrible feelings upon me in contrast to earlier when things were well, while in
that hyperspace, and when the female was speaking. When the male started speaking, I started to feel weird, like annoyed or
threatened. It reeked of future odd competition between these foreign males for the basic necessities and requirements for
life, I had to wonder how this was to be dealt with after having escaped the womb, where all nourishment is generally
provided. When it began I remember being sucked down to the ground and smacked down like a booger stuck to a surface,
utterly helpless to be distracted from this great show. How odd it is now. I can still recall the cage of geometric shapes, fad
chic colored Latin American design and just remembered it all. It all comes flooding back. Pretty shortly you've done seen it
all. Then the substances ????? into any other one, with the benefit of saturated color vision and bringing on geometric
shapes. If lucky you will remember albeit with reduced visuals. But there never was a hyperspace, extra dimensions, or
aliens. Just expectations of the alien, which is quickly conquered. Afterwards a languor and fatigue following nearly all drug
happenings occurs.
Very Well, Give This Thing A Gander Ultimately it boils down to the self, a principle not everyone may be predisposed to.
The world, in and of itself, is fine, I suppose... Not that it isn't hostile, I mean, it's just bloody hard to remember. Irrespective
of how travel works there, I find that I become concerned of course for friends or family, those close to me but ultimately I
find myself at a destination. Keep in mind it's all too much to take in at once, for a multitude of reasons, but I arrived at
some destination – there are, perhaps cues or signals and you must do your best to remain awake, though it may be arbitrary.
Yet, I was brought to an area resembling an oil pastel painting of what appeared a wheat or daisy field, with this character
plucking amidst, until I became too focused on what was happening. {Quick note: this is the experience I described before
where I broke through the chrysanthemum and there were hyperdimensional flowers constantly fluttering, changing, and
rotating around the border of the vision like a picture frame, and they were there the whole time} I began to imprint my own
personal beliefs and experiences onto it, like a never ending chase, an excursion all while searching for some truth – game
changing truth. But for now, I would be this. I suppose. It seemed I could continue should options be available, curiously
enough. And perhaps that would be the wise choice. You should know what the right thing to do is, right? No? Well it
seemed a male female duo in the fields. And this was a very dreamlike place hence the comparisons and possible difficult to
recall or remember aspect, everything moving fast with no time to stop. Continue on, you must! You could... Well, I began
to be identified as a stranger by these quiet folk, just as things began slipping away, in this space... I must say it was a bit
unlike what I have seen before. Possible insight must lie in the similar dream like worlds upon natural sleep. I must say I
have been there, to an extent, not having explored it to its full potential. Certain lifestyle choices would have that. And now,
all began to fade as I transitioned back to this plane, so to speak. They slipped away as if being washed down a drain. The
usual... I may be mistaken but this would have been a good time to kick in some more, if properly equipped, if only to see
how the tolerance would affect it. Irrespective of it all I would say a case of it being random to an extent... Oh, I am
tempted. One interesting idea was an adequate food intake. As I had been running on empty I wondered if that would have
been responsible for those particular episodes. One characteristic of the general experience are those body convulsions,
which could represent any # of things, or something be responsible for it. I am ultimately unfamiliar with many phenomena
exhibiting those properties during regular sleep
besides some desire to move during sleep paralysis or their regular tossing and turning, so mostly because of the infamous
seemingly ever present presence that seems abundant there, it would seem there's a relationship to be established. As
previously reported, hostile or not wholly friendly vibrations have been known to occur so make no mistake about all too
optimistic notions here, or any notions at all hopefully. It's the “random” demons or spirits could also show up concept. Just
in the name of objectivity, with all due respect. That is the consensus, foolish as it may sound, the skeptics having a field
day with it but yet does it remain a wholesome mystery not fully touched upon? For what that's worth... We wonder how the
coming years will play. However, the literature states some relationship definitely should occur. Mutually maybe, but I was
just under the impression that I should show a kind of respect... And serve, so to speak, as I allowed the body to shake and
pump I had dined fairly well earlier, made sure of it, and if my feeble mind that allowed more substance to be pumped.
Whatever it is that they want. Sometimes it feels all too neutral – but who am I kidding. So, perhaps this question of
convulsions could be looked. Imagine what that would... Oh, should one know why be so eager to offer up body? They are
but after a certain point people just get intimate. I mean what is the full relationship between man/mammal& the plant
world, or the body offerings? Next: *the thing where you predict the next word anonymously”
end Vol. I
In order that I must pump things accordingly I should note that I believe the forms to come in a multitude of variety. As
reported as reported by himself he said, “it felt like they didn't necessarily want me but wouldn't particularly put forth any
extra effort to impede any foreseeable events. Head feeling like glass. Cried but for all the wrong reasons. Is it everything
you needed? The most beautiful thing but you cried at the locquaciousness of failing to sustain it rather than actually
experiencing it. It's real. By golly is it real! You always forget, it's impossible to realize until you see it again. It took place
perhaps in some out garden. The inhalation was probably wrong, meaning most of it wasted and only a little dose going
through. I chalk that up to an unfortunate route of administration & accompanying errors, possibly due for an update. But, I
can, and why? I ask, easily see someone ill prepared going somewhat mental, even off this stuff, and hurting others.
Hopefully, this is a thing easily prevented generally, and also mostly due to the common cheap get filled with its own set of
cons administration, typically involving the cannabis plant matter. A bit of paranoia usually happens there, so they say.
Elsewise, what they call the ego enjoying its new thing. There was little pumping. When things like that happen and there
are little visuals to go by, the mind is intoxicated with racing thoughts. Relatedly, that's what they refer to when they say it
isn't wholly accessible to people because of this short duration. They feel overwhelmed. However, I begin to think of the
nuances, such as the way the wavy lines appear on the surfaces, their so called index (indices), and other slip cracks that
seem to appear. For some reason he got it in his head that they could be civilized. Probably has more to do with the
imagination than anything. But after a while you become aware of a faint glimmer, perhaps it is a message. Once more
concentrated it seems something lurks in the midst! It's too late to close your eyes, most of what visuals there would have
been are long gone now, you can sort of tell because you can only see partial echoes, no real ability besides hopefully,
smoking more will put you back in the game. You last desperate struggles consist of enjoying as best you can whatever there
is left or trying to repack for more explosion. Hesitatingly decided and it seems it was of little aid. Some weird globular
object but it is entirely unclear. But they were there! There is a proposed phenomena involving the 3-D spaces. What we
can't see there, let alone how it may be the metaphor for how we experience the transition into this other state of
consciousness, even emphasizing how brief it regularly lasts. As such, I mention it to compare to the dream state, in which
we depart
from waking consciousness to enter an other mode, presumably wrought by evolution to extend out already working,
current faculties. In what could be another cruel joke, a twisted metaphor for the wakening or exiting of this altered state, I
began to spot them. They were little elves, like the shoes and nightcap, but were elusive. Once I was worried enough... and
looked a particular way, they were there, then I desperately tried following them around the space, knowing time was
running out. It reminded of the last, once I noticed the more female like spirit in the oil painting, it was like an exercise in
which you learn how to see, or navigate and notice the tenants there. But now I refer back to my initial statements regarding
their reaction to me. They moved around and eventually to a keyhole which I had followed them to. I opened my eyes and
saw the colors more vibrant but no overlaying world to accompany, yet my sight was drawn more toward a certain area,
which may fall under the category of a previously reported phenomena or experience, that being of the body seeming like a
magnet for the stuff. I made a mental note to take care of it when able & the tried to focus on the visions & the elves. Them
escaping to the keyhole was the classic example of the pineal containing what is there, well, it went down as the final pieces
of the experience was metabolized, destroyed by the body. Of course, this makes one want to study it some more. Maybe
I've a will to learn and am premature. Maybe, I know exactly what they are referring to be cause I have yet to do so yet that
being, paying the rent and putting my 20-30 hours in, so it all might just be like paying your bills and keeping up with
responsibilities. But they left, as I was ill prepared and couldn't take in the dose. I cried and broke down into tears at what I
saw then. All the memories just come flooding back. It's like some part of the experience produces the necessary chems or
agents to successfully produce or reproduce those feelings, everytime, at just the right time, a particular aspect of the
experience for metabolizations. But again, they seemed only too glad to deny me access. It's like I'm not allowed. However,
they didn't seem too keen on trying to prevent more effort from what I could tell... There seemed to be a checklist but as
they got to a certain item I seemed to take a crushing blow. But I went on and found myself there. Made a mental note on
how to possibly remedy such a thing. Surely unrealistic & deluded. I will look into it. But they left... all I could do was try.
They didn't care. Do I really have no offerings for them? I... had to take it upon an odd challenge, exercise or art, to devote
to as I would nearly no other. But would it always be a lost cause? I'll never.... It will be the same attempt every time. The
whole thing is just designed for one to re-live a goal and never quite solve it – in other words it's just motivation to complete
IRL tastes, such as paying the bills. A heady reminder. The next time such a thing is attempted you should remember to pay
extra attention to stay. Learn how to do the walk if so... They were camouflaging & playfully fled. How does this affect
tolerance? “Already am!” that's why the effect seems so lessened. Similarly, the world descended upon... Is when I first
noticed it. This could be another point of inquiry – namely does the landscape have an actual Latin tinge? (I think this is the
experience I've described to other people before, where there was a spaceship or main hub center that came down and
eventually a psychedelic themed desert was also there. I don't think I wrote about it here up until now.) – Numerous failed
attempts (low dose, goo; etc) – a particularly interesting event, some kind of long coiling beings trying to get my attention
of something. The imagery was faint so I could barely see, amidst my confusion I tried to move like how instructed before. I
tried but felt there wasn't enough dose resulting in comparatively lackluster experience, my insecurity felt. It was an
interesting level. Halfway in between thinking about it and trying to experience it. They seemed encouraging but something
just prevented me from doing it. They walked around and offered a hand. Insecure again, I though there was more in the
pipe and tried it, didn't seem to have much effect as I would have surmised. There could have been a respect thing going on,
I thought the view as a strong possibility that it could be a better idea to just ride it out as is, plus when I hit the pipe it was
basically just ash. No chic but to try the rest (of the scenery), it's unfortunate that the state puts
you into such discombobulation rendering memory less effective. I hoped to do my best. I saw portals & remaining last
chances to enter, when in Rome as they say but I couldn't help wonder that the trip should be ending sooner. Earlier on onset
while struggling to keep control I opened my eyes and saw strange film overlaying everything over my vision. The
sensations forced me to close them again. And there it all happened. There seemed two of them, dancing, waving, blue
yellow like lighting streaks. In fact, there was an underwater like sensation to it. They wanted me to have fun but I was too
inhibited. Then as it all faded away I was able to see cartoony imagery flickering by, I wish I could have focused on it but
again the vision was kind of translucent. I wanted to go there. Wondered if access was indeed possible. Later I felt prepared
again. This time after taking some in something came over me. I wondered why I kept getting negative vibes like being
rejected and warned not to try any funny business or else. I hoped it was just false interpretations and regular paranoia or
insecurity, possibly wrong. Nonetheless I was due even though I hadn't taken their first suggestion yet, planning on doing it
any day now though! For this trip, I began to feel the smoke, anxious to see what would happen this time. A dark feeling
came over me which I hoped had to do with the general confusion and not anything malicious. I began swinging back and
forth as if under a spell, performing a strange voodoo dance look alike. It was like I had been taken over otherwise just my
body trying to maintain and stand still rather than lay down. Eventually, I did. And assumed a position with jaw opened
wide. Mouth began to water then it was like I was vomiting materials or allowing the transport of some thing. This seemed
to be mediated by some force or being. These bodily movements had happened before so I basically went along. We
assumed the usual relationship, and while in position it was like I was being raped, forcefully abused, when struck down I
wasn't sure if it was one way to get acquiescence. I felt almost nothing but like I had little and ever increasing control of
body; but, I couldn't make it stop and had to wait it out. It was thought provoking and I remembered the nature of such
reports while this was gong on. I began to moan due to the idea, finally aware of how I was in a lesser position, under
command of some authority,yet, it felt like a duty on not something to be really embarrassed about. Eventually, I was able to
flip my body to the other side, no longer on all fours, and contemplate what had just happened. Something like this couldn't
seriously be a part of the intoxication, could it? There seem to be various types of experience. It made me ponder about life
and my role in conjunction with the right thing to do. But that really only made me desire a way to get out of it altogether,
and focus on giving back to others instead, which of course can only be done by focusing on self and your role. But, I had
read some incidents about abductions and anal probes, and forming a relationship with humans for purposes of offspring
production and, perhaps, just curiosity, so I trid to look at these things from this perspective. -”Dave Bowman 2001 Room,
wavy lines cup Mexican experience” This was a short lived experience that I later found to share similarities with LSD
kicking in, although DMT only lasts five minutes, and this may have been one or two tokes, definitely not really three or
breakthrough. Nonetheless, it caused visual distortion. It reminded me of the final scene in 2001 when he's at the hotel like
room place. It changed my vision so everything seemed kind of green and pink. I was able to observe everything waving. I
looked at a cup, and its lines were straight, but waving, like you could put your finger through a side and between the wave
of the edge of the cup, but it was merely a visual illusion, and in reality, the cup was probably still solid. I could also look at
the ground, and see a hologram like layer above it, that was waving. Months later when I dosed a dose of LSD, my vision
changed exactly the same, except for a few minutes, as it was only a stage of the LSD kicking in. I'm not sure if it would
have been the same had I not had that DMT experience, in other words, if that's just an inherent property of LSD, or if my
brain was affected by the DMT. Subsequent LSD experiences have generally looked different. – feet sex? This is one of my
favorite experiences. It was after things had already started to get weird or kind of creepy. I smoked it, the my vision got
tinged with a green, and it became hard to move, my body turned rigid, and I fell on the ground, real straight, and had to lay
there next
to the bed. Then I could hear a sound that sounded more like chanting than anything else, or even christmas like bells – they
were basically elves. I couldn't really see them, though, because it was a coincidence; “DMT makes your body hard to
move.” I could vaguely move my head and look down at my feet, because I felt a sensation running across them, and I could
see, that it looked like there were elves running across my feet. I could sort of feel them too. But I couldn't really see them
for sure, just felt like it, and as hard as I could try, I couldn't look all the way because DMT makes it hard to move. But I
could still sort of see them, y'know? Like I could sort of see their hats, pointy, and it seemed kind of machine like.
Everything had a cloud of green tinge over it, which seemed familiar. It seemed true to the fairy or elf nature, where they're
invisible or hard to see, only visible by stepping in a fairy ring or any other technique. So I took it to be that. It seemed again
like they were harvesting my information, in any other vision or trip it or they would have appeared as aliens for example
with matrix like tubes and machines connected to you, in a dream like scenario. Yet there they were. It went on and on for 5-
10 minutes, and I heard the song or sound going with it the whole time. I had never, in any situation, really been the kind of
person who'd get the buzzing sound with DMT, out of all my times trying it I only heard it like 2 or 3 times, and it was
usually for one to two seconds, not really a long tearing sound. And yet, during my DMT experiences, the vision or visuals
are accompanied by its own sound usually, could be elf chatter included, but it's usually a heavenly like charm or angelic
humming as well, like “Behold”, maybe. – Dance? Tremble but remain stand, truly cry? I'm unsure what the whole thing
refers to. I have had multiple dance like experiences with DMT, some were spontaneous and unintentional, and impressed
me because I can't really dance, and it seemed like a surge of energy or spirit entered me, and took over, and I was able to
dance. It had a ritualistic, shamanic like feeling to it. The whole thing continued to be a concern, that of administration.
After extensive testing and attempts to enter the space he had been plagued by many sub breakthrough hits and just off
experiences so that the nature of the neurotransmitter became what he had seen. But he had definitely broken through
before, it's just that he was into complaining about his method of administration. Plus, the role tolerance would play in all of
it. He hoped the numerous botched attempts wouldn't delay any further progress by waiting for availability again. In this
manner much of the product was wasted especially when he tried multiple times a day. It wasn't until he sought advice that
he at least learned one fundamental flaw in technique. But, his interest in the state influenced him to slightly over do it. And
so, he went through a few days of low dose interactions and took note of some properties. In this manner the substance in
these levels take on threshold effects: if one so chooses to use it in this manner. There are still the fuzzy spine tingling
sensations in the spine and an inhibition to move too much. The vision becomes preoccupied until vibrant colors and other
shapes in this space, usually when one gets that it can be an invitation to go farther, if possible. But, as mentioned
previously, he had broken through before and so knew what could happen. Due to error, hen he couldn't get the same effect
anymore, everything as if it were guaranteed, he assumed it was an issue with the tolerance. An auspicious bit of self
flattery. The tiny amounts gave him an enormous sense of responsibility. He had to be careful not to do anything rash, let
alone get odd ideas with it. Just wanted to do the right thing more so. Once during a previous trip through hyperspace he had
seen images of David Bowman and another star child entity. What did it mean? He casually saw the meme before he was set
down at the resting place and put through the trip there. We mention this because during an intense attempt at breakthrough
he entered a purgatory like zone, that is to say, there was no “breakthrough” but he had the visual distortions or
hallucinations layered over his open eyed aspects. He was then able to walk around the flat a bit and cognizant of the limited
time tried to get a much in as possible. Not dwelling on the attachments he wondered what role such an intoxication played
in previous societies, like those of the Latin Americans or Egyptians, and how it could have made them feel powerful,
important, egotistical,
or egoless... But, as he walked around the flat he noticed the lighting and his own isolation resembled the flat he noticed the
lighting and hi own isolation resembled the hotel scene at the end of 2001. he wondered what it could have meant, not to
mention how this kind of thing could affect the criticism or reading of the actual film itself. One thing he was interested in is
the dissolving of the boundaries or dimensions, as unlikely as it is that one could experience such a phenomena with the
ingestion of a substance, endo or exo. Nonetheless at these levels one can see geometric shapes or other disturbances in the
vision. The least he could do here was study what he could, for what good it may do... He would start to think maybe the
environment may not be optimal but one familiar thing is that, on this carpet, wavy lines would appear. But what of the
indices of these granulations as they ethereally rose from the plankments. So enticing as if inviting you to take a leap inside.
Low doses would allow this much. Hoped it wasn't a high tolerance that would prevent further activity. Was able to walk
around this time so I went to the front room, where whites glowed and resembled the final hotel scene from 2001. There
was a cup on the table and it was waving, swerving, similar to the carpet. Whereas normally the airfare of the glass cup
would be straight, have it just couldn't maintain that form and was constantly fluctuating, with wave crests & troughs. And
this pattern affected nearly everything. I looked at the ground and a layer of it seemed to float two or three inches off the
ground. Ultimately not much was to be done about it but take in a fatter dose and actually probably breakthrough. One
conjured up feeling like an ancient warrior of some sort, a messenger from some realm. Whether this is good or bad – could
be dangerous. It went away. Perhaps deities or other important figures have an increased vision differentiating them from
else. There was another experience. A recurring theme is apparently intercourse with the peoples. It wasn't very visual but a
heavy feeling inhibiting movement came over and I was forced to collapse. Figured what was coming but planned on
breaking through anyway, like before. This time though, upon the collapse instead of having other areas “penetrated”, the
feet were given a good brush & tickling, like some elves were running across it. I tried to get up & look but couldn't – had to
wait until it was over before could move. Must have been some kind of transferal process. After it ended there were
lingering sensations – but that was the trip.
When I mentioned it wasn't very visual, it just added some visual distortion to my field of vision, or view. Everything
started to turn all green. It also seemed there was a place there that I couldn't exactly see, but could have been moving, like
an environment, or with “elf machinery”. There were just vague feelings of that while I couldn't move, and they ran across
my feet.
Now, there was the question of with music or without. Certainly, the first time definitely involved not just music but pot,
which I always fear could have colored the trip too much. But – the method definitely did, clearly, work out at least a few
times. It is just that there are reports of clear, “spice only”, experiences that may be necessary to have as well. However, this
doesn't seem so simple, though it should be, one, because of lack of proper lab equipment and two, well, the melting point
of the material in question is so low this makes the feat of smoking mostly impossible. Thus, people use some leaf or ash
bedding to allow the flame to properly vape the substance. Basically any plant can be used, so cannabis can typically be
selected. This doesn't seem proper after a while so a cleaner strike is sought. Irrespective of it all since that method had
achieved the desired results, pretty much, it needed to be used at least a few more times. Scarcity required careful
administrations so as not to waste anymore. This time, some music was on and since it wasn't too annoying stayed. But the
intention was that it could be easily shut off if necessarily. But, this wasn't able to happen. Another thing is that when taking
it in, it must be done fast and all at once, otherwise it gets taken in increasingly smaller amounts, making for a sub par
excursion and a general waste of product, which is sort of fun. And this particular time, there was music playing. It seems to
be a case of the more the merrier with them. It was a new
album I hadn't fully heard yet, and it was stated to end soon, like before, in which my smoking generally coincided with the
final songs on an album not on repeat, which left me with silence and the trip. So I began to take it in, slowly, apparently,
and began to feel the weight coming down. Always a good sign. It suggest you can lay down, close your eyes and enjoy
some visuals but this did not happen. Music & other stimuli can provide a standard of distortion, indicating if you will blast
off or not. And since I remained standing albeit with some effort blasting off did not occur however, this did come with
some rather intense thoughts suggestive of the proper intoxication, from previous experience at least. Upon nearly
crumbling, again a good sign, in this case, it seemed for some reason that this was the ultimate thing to do with one's life.
Become a sort of messenger – for the people. And they would generally accept it, you know. That isn't to say this is a
dangerous job. He could think heavily as if & perhaps on the seriousness of it. His role here. The truth. The role women will
now and should play in this evolving, changing world [note: a comment on the changing times, like women becoming more
awoken, or conscious, fighting for equal rights or pay. It's similar to the revolution during the 60's, flower girls challening
the status quo on liberation, fighting for freedom in love or sex]. The intoxication here was enough to make a man cry – and
cry he almost did as he prevent collapse upon his knees. Nay, he stay grounded in this plane as a sign of some kind of pride.
And then instead of the usual, his body began to move, with the tune of the groove that was currently playing! Dancing? He
had always wanted to learn dancing... And how could this not be a good time to start? And luckily for ye, the particular song
was a long one – not your average tune. And one from the late 60's, 70's as well... And happened to be an instrumental of
theirs, making it quite suitable. But the dance did happen! Until it was exhausted and ended in a flip, miscalculated, nearly
crashing his feet to the shelves and luckily just avoiding it, to landing on his back in front of them, with a thump, and the
appropriate breath exertion followed after. Was it perfect? I guess he had that energy inside him all along. The dance was
fun but did he really learn how? Surely it could be repeated sometime, high or not. Set & setting. It had to be interpreted as
part of his duty. Put on a show. It was probably more so the weed than spice, he reassured, except weed hadn't really done
that before, but the spice was known for having something to do with body movements. Just a part of the show. The next
time saw some kind of breakthrough. There was a new piece of advice suggesting to just let it rip instead of taking the
traditional three puff ordeal. But we took it all in the pipe until the periphery of his vision turned dark – this was quite
different from the usual in which the colors would get more vibrant – this time things got dark yet it seemed familiar as he
must have had a similar experience years ago when a friend first let him try. He tried to take the next hits but couldn't –
definitely a good sign! Then humbly collapsed to the carpet. He heard the infamous hyperspace sound, sounding like
computers running or something. He was then hazily brought to a space in which some form of contact was attempted –
things were like atom yellow brown, in this space. But, it seemed maybe too late as he noticed it all, only had a minute or so
to try & figure out what was going on. It was like he was being instructed to move around. It seemed hard and once he got
the hang of it, they fled, time was up (thus the pattern would resemble a stereotypical “DMT” experience, one genre of the
typical kind at least). It's hard to draw the line – you can think about it while it is happening or experience it directly – then
think about it while it's over. That seems to be the ideal elsewise you miss out on potentially important or interesting
explorations. So, a vape pipe was received for purposes of inhaling the product pure, without anything else. But, most gurus
still say to use a bed of plant or ash. This time cannabis is optional, as people opt for other cool variety of herb as well. I'll
come right and say there hasn't been much luck with this new device at all, they say practice makes perfect with it, at the
same time, there has been just one semi interesting thing that happened whilst using it. Followed by numerous failed
attempts and wasted product, either low dose or burning/melting the substance before it can actually be vaped/smoked or
inhaled, I might add. I was in a chair. As I inhaled some of the smoke I saw the characteristic neon brightness of colors,
particularly the whites glowing. Also, in something else I wished to explore more fully, the room seemed, or appeared, to
get more spacious., due to the
perceptual distortions. Always a good sign? Didn't end up breaking through but a collapse was definite. There were
enhanced greens & reds and my body could do naught but lay on my belly, which is unusual since it usually has me on my
back. This experience also resembled certain lower, non breakthrough doses of mushroom's CEV visuals, where it looks like
there could be a landscape you could breakthrough to, with either a higher enough dose, or extreme mental concentration,
except, that time I did mushrooms, it was all yellow and fantasy looking. That DMT experience, was more green, and
looked like an outside garden area to some enchanted castle, or something. Those were the feelings elicited, at least.
*At some point I had to add a note about not committing suicide, assuring the reader or anyone who may find and read it, if
I had actually ended up dead somehow. It wouldn't have been me. During one instance I almost fell, and was leaning my
head against the bed side, and it turned, and almost felt like my neck was going to crack, or break. It felt different from the
casual cracking of knuckles type release. So, I thought it could have been the DMT entities or hyperspace beings warning
me, or playing, toying with me, trying to scare me.
Bonus:
➔For some reason people always think (1) if there's an entity and you don't go anywhere or stay in one spot it's not
breakthrough or (2) if they don't tell you anything or convey information it might not be breakthrough - but those are just
common assumptions. One of the reasons I tried DMT so many times was to see if I ever broke through or not. There isn't
always a chrysanthemum that you break through, so you can tell, sometimes you just go there.
I've had a somewhat similar experience except there was no background or place. I was just going to smoke some weed, and
was looking forward to that pot, but my pipe, unknowingly, still had some DMT residual in it. I didn't even notice or taste it
as I sat on the couch. Then I toked the pipe and was stoned. I thought I noticed something but didn't pay much attention to it
because it should have been just weed.
After 30 seconds to a minute I noticed how stoned and sedated I was. Finally I was like "Fuck, what is that?" then looked, at
last, and it was a flashing bulb of light that seemed alive and was trying to get my attention, which it ended up doing then. It
was like a kind of fairy (it was a pulsating orb of light, right there in the living room). Then it all dissolved and everything
was engulfed in that wave of light until it passed over. Then, I started to see a "dinosaur-reptilianlizard-elephant" man,
wearing a purple suit, looking like a boss and staring at me with some kind of disappointment.
His face was constantly changing. At first it looked like a goomba from the Mario Bros. movie, then it changed to like a
lizard, then a dinosaur, then elephant creature like thing; etc and kept shifting. I only saw him from the torso up, the legs
blended away, so he looked like a ghost, except everything was so clear and vivid. The background was just darkness. The
total thing was about five minutes, and he was there for like 3. I wasn't expecting it or intending to breakthrough, but was
pleasantly surprised. It was like, the screen wasn't full, so I couldn't see his legs.
It was bizarre enough for me. Cannabis edibles can give me visuals too sometimes, and when I get entities off them, they're
more human, literally. Not humanoids. And they seem alive (I also get things not human). Except, I think DMT is still more
special and psychedelic. It's stronger.
(Note: his face was never really an elephant, I don't think. It was always more dinosaur, lizard, reptilian like, and was just
constantly changing into weird things, things you can't describe and barely remember, but never really explicitly an
elephant. ➔Bonus 2: I'm mostly experienced with smoking DMT and tried it 15-20 times, which isn't really that much if
you think about it. I read the Spirit Molecule before ever trying it so had some understanding of what to expect. I've had
some experiences that were easy to recall or describe but also some others that were hard to remember or even describe after
a certain point.
I had no scale so there's no dosage information.
Terence McKenna said it was the same for him everytime but I'm unsure if he meant that literally or metaphorically. With
me it was different everytime, although I noticed there are "genres" of DMT experience and you could get the same one
twice or multiple times except it'll look different. It was also almost literally similar to according doses of psilocybin except
in 515 minutes up to an hour because it's DMT (sans MAO-I).
For example, I have seen the machine elves (never any self dribbling jeweled basketball like objects though) except they
looked different everytime or what can also be described as a robot spirit elf, that was like a ghost.
I can only remember some of what I didn't write down or that's easier to tell orally. I once wrote after an experience "there
were people already there". I've gotten "shadow people" and "men in full body spandex suits", sometimes there are question
marks over their faces, synonymous with elves although they seemed like hyperdimensional agents or the aliens. I've had
three particular experiences with it out of say ~15 times smoking DMT or breakthroughs total. They were different from
other times, and weren't necessarily spaceships, elves, aliens, direct entity contact, or what have you.
TM said when you smoke DMT you see the entities you contact on mushrooms that you talk to. Mushrooms aren't visual for
some people.
For some extra context, my very first DMT experience I broke through a bright orange-red chrysanthemum then after seeing
promised geometric shapes and psychedelic imagery as well as weird alien feelings (it felt like an OOBE, like my conscious
left my body there on the ground to gain access to this zone, like the "cosmic unconscious") then it looked like I was
underground and elves ran up to me. They looked like toys and were probably the machine elves TM spoke of. They were
white, green, and like purple - there was a clown theme to them, and it seemed Jewish. There was an object in the middle
that looked like a bigger version of them in essence, like a statue they were moving toward then dancing around moving.
They were showing it to me. It ended and I came back to my body.
The next was a UFO or spaceship that made my body convulse, and I could see aliens wearing lab coats operating on me,
and there was a fairy helper. The ship was mostly purple, and I couldn't move. The aliens looked kind of reptilian. It was
hella tight, but I was kind of scared. It was "psychedelic as f***".
I've also seen literal geometric shapes spinning and rotating. I almost forgot about the heavy bodyload smoked DMT gives.
It feels like your consciousness goes somewhere else, then connects your mind to your body so it's all you really have and
own.
If you catch a disease it could start to disintegrate your body and life.
This one time I smoked it it made me feel like I was about to die. Then I fell on the ground as it kicked in and I recalled the
feeling. My body entered a sleep, lucid dream like state as this vision came on. I realized I couldn't describe it or explain it
at all, no matter what nor remember all of it, on some. It was powerful. I can best describe it as a "rotating globe of visions
and images" that was constantly changing, and it's only one second or so that I remember of it. It was like 5-10 minutes
whole. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but isn't strange that it has to be induced via a smoked drug instead of
being like an act of kindness or something? At that point, it was like bronze-ish, and was just PSYCHEDELIC is the only
way of describing it. I hadn't seen anything like it at all, and was way different and powerful than any DMT I've had before
or after ever. It had a kind of "sound" to it, like Holy chanting or music, like maybe church hymns or bells; etc, that
accompanied it.
The next time that kind of thing happened, the radio was on. I smoked it, then everything started to get dark and I felt all
sick like I could die and just wanted to sleep so I hurry up and lay down. Eventually, I came to, and realized I'd never be
able to describe this at all, there were no words. It was kind of like that first, previous time, except it came more from the
right. It was just pretty much "PSYCHEDELIC" as well, like pure psychedelia basically, from some source, except this time
the only colors I can recall or explain were neon metallic lightning blue and yellow like streaks. Eventually I saw warm
cotton candy clouds and what looked like a brief glimpse of Heaven. It had a carnival like theme to it I guess and I can still
hear the sound, which was an "epic" sort of hum or droll similar to that first time. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw,
again, although it seemed like my brain and mind started to strain as far as it being possible to generate this kind of imagery
from straight imagination. How could it be "the most beautiful thing I had ever seen or felt" 'twice'? DMT just does that. As
far as seeing that being possible, the implications imply information - it isn't always just aliens directly showing you
something or talking to you. I had been to strange geometric realms or toybox like places but this was sort of different. It
also went on for a while, and felt like I was in the womb before being born, everything was warm, perfect, had what I
needed until. I believe that was the peak, from what I can remember. As I started to come down, things got cold and more
annoying as it took effort to survive without womb support for the organism. So it was all coincidence and metaphorical for
hyperspace. The Psychedelicism was real, with consequences actually. There was much more to it but impossible to
remember. Repeatedly, I analyzed the effort it'd take to try but you sacrifice ego for surrendering, and the entities can tell.
So more often than not I just "give up" and surrender to the experience for possible "ego death" instead of putting force and
effort to trying to remember to bring something back or describe and understand more and more. Then I recognized the
radio - it had completely disappeared when I broke through. Reality came back - everything was completely gone before. I
don't think the sound I heard was a distortion of the radio, I think it was completely blocked out and the DMT 100%
original. Everything was a coincidence now and it got kind of annoying so I had to turn the radio off and recover.
The third time I got that stream of PSYCHEDELIC imagery off DMT, I talked about it here before. It came from more
behind this time, and glowed purple. Instead of being completely unrecognizable or explainable at all, it distinctly looked
like a troop of Faery marching toward me in a procession, which would be related to any Celtic lore from that region,
including 5th century lore from Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, also possibly being related to our modern day stories of UFO
and alien abductions, which could be caused by lucid dream techniques like false awakenings or plausible spikes in
endogenous DMT, melatonin, or other serotonergic
monoamineoxidase inhibiting compounds from the pineal and pituitary glands. I also heard a sound or song like to it. This
too, made me feel like I was about to die and it was hard to breathe. I had to just watch them come along, then it was like
"the carnival comes to town", kicks your ass, shows you what's really up and who's running things, then they leave - "see
you next time", possibly, if at all. It was a Faerie Rade (as in parade) from some Heroic tribe of fairies from Ireland or
Scotland. Heroic or Trooping Fairies are comprised of the most aristocratic, luxurious faery in existence. They sort of came,
and some were on horses, then stopped in the middle, as it kept going on, sort of danced around, did that loop and spin, and
it was a whole carnival, they were spirits, like entities, then they were leaving. It was really cool. It was similar to the other
times except I could describe it. They just came. It was like entering a fairy ring.
I tried to do it again but don't think I broke through for this 4th time. I came to a white wall that was moving and looked
pretty psychedelic with birthday cake like colors and themes - it was 'dirty' white or cream-clear, with red, green, blue,
yellow, orange; etc dots or shining lights all around it. It was pumping. I recognized it was another one of those streams of
psychedelic imagery although something seemed different, even though I didn't want to admit it. The veil was moving and
pumping, don't think I had more to take another toke to see if I'd breakthrough - sometimes if you look at it for 15 seconds
you could still break through. But it started to get dark. Suddenly a stick figure ran up and started dancing, and everything
started to seem all biological and alien. It started to seem demonic and weird, not fun, plus he was in the way of the visual.
After a few minutes, the dancing got really violent and started to get annoying, so I tried to open my eyes and leave,
hopefully the next dose with it would be more pleasant. Not sure if it was breakthrough but probably not. The veil looked
cool but it seemed like my brain just couldn't possibly generate any more insane psychedelic visuals, not unless with a
tolerance break or something.
Most of my subsequent experiences with dimethyltryptamine have been more describable or rememberable as well, and I
haven't had similar ones since. DMT is the only substance that causes its unique visuals, although it's like according doses
of mushrooms in 5-15 minutes. It made me feel like I was about to die and forced my body into a sleep like state.
Some people get mad because I say it's hard to describe or can't, with me, the shtick with DMT at least was that it was
impossible to explain or sometimes remember with some people, like a dream, although some people are good with dreams,
that's why they thought DMT was released during sleep and is what contributes to causing dreams. Sometimes you can
though, as per the Spirit Molecule where people are able to describe their injections.
There are just different genre of DMT experience, like it's also different every time. I think you can still describe it, I
remember some of it but it's just like psychedelic imagery for the most part, some art is decent as depicting it for the most
part. If you're lucky you could get a spaceship or tree forest entity contact spirits; etc.
So it's one of those things and thought it'd be understood. It probably isn't worth exposing your brain to such concepts at any
rate. I still consider that to be an insane standard for DMT by some stretches of the imagination by what you can piece
together for what it's worth, although I've had others that were more visually describable or preferable for entity
conversation. Whatever they say DMT could cause probably is that, such as entity contact with aliens or elves or anything
else, it also has a weird body feeling that makes you feel sick or have to lay down.
It's interesting as far as any visual from a substance goes, some people have fun with any cool visuals they get from medical
cannabis. Unfortunately I read Philip K. Dick growing up so there's any of that paranoid stuff or garbage weed usage. It
shouldn't have to come with the territory.
Most of my DMT experiments have been failures. I consider there to be a lot of failed attempts, and a few botched ones.
Sometimes I get an underwater theme that looks like it's underground in some underwater cave or the like for a few seconds,
usually accompanied by a spaceship theme. You could tour it.
One might argue it to be a loading dock or main hub central. Like if you take one more toke beyond that you'd break
through. What happened that time though is that it was a landscape as well, like a "psychedelic hologram desert", with
tumbleweeds blowing and strange alien plants growing out the ground, eyes both opened and closed, except it was that and
the spaceship at the same time overlaid over eachother, and with eyes open you could see the room I was in (set & setting)
with both hyperspace landscapes on similar levels of visible dimensional reality. And it extended for a while. Then it faded
and my vision was still distorted for a short time of a few minutes, colors were saturated then it faded to normal quick,
which looked comparatively dull according to my memory but I understood it to be merely induced by a drug, or plant
medicinal component.
I've taken lower, weak doses of mushrooms where with eyes closed, it looked like there was a vague landscape that I
couldn't break through to, if I only I stared at it longer or took more. It was yellowish and fantasy based. It was there for 2-4
hours total of the mushroom's duration.
This one time I tried DMT, and it may have been a lower dose, but it looked like there was a green outside-ish area there
literally, like a garden area of a castle, sparkly and green. It was there for like 5 minutes and was similar to that dose of
mushroom except psilocybin lasts longer.
I could have increased that DMT's dose or tried to close my eyes to focus on it more but that's what it mainly looked like, it
was sort of frustrating trying to make it look tighter or more intense.
It makes it hard to move. This other time it also made me lay on the floor once and couldn't move, then my vision got tinged
with green. Most of my DMT trip were failures, and a few weren't even really that visual. But some were literally just visual
and psychedelic by all means. Then it looked like there were little elves running across my feet, and felt like it too. It made
it so hard to move that I couldn't see them properly, coincidentally. It was like a medicine that literally induces that. They
could have been harvesting my information or essence, or were like dancing. I kept trying to look at them more but
automatically couldn't due to synchronicity. It was kind of weird but I recognized it to be DMT, it was all with eyes open, I
think there may have been stuff going on with them closed too.
I think people just get mad when they don't have the details fully filled in for them for all any of the implications there'd be,
unable to pick the real one. They think it gives them freedom to assume. It doesn't mean the person isn't smart enough to
figure it out or decipher anything.
I already said there are different genres of DMT experience. Sometimes with me at least there are machine elves, and other
times not. So it could be "infinite", or in other words just different every time.
I've already read most books on psychedelics, and the histories of, say, shamanism or other esoteric, sometimes occult
practices like alchemy. If you disagree with certain stuff, then you haven't read the foundational literature, or even any new
stuff.
It just sounds like that. It basically could be God communicating with the user, which is put in a prophetic state. If you aren't
trained, you could have a hard time determining any prophecy or predicting the future, let alone getting any other
information out of it. I should have wrote more down at the time but it sucked me dry, took a toll, and I knew it would have
been mostly impossible anyway, besides sounding in awe. It's not some flaw in the user his or herself, if you couldn't tell.
That's just the nature of the experience, DMT will kick your ass, at first, until you've went in a little already with or without
acid, and are in the mood.
I tried smoking DMT on mushrooms once and it didn't work. Could have been any reason. LSD always seems conducive
towards it, for some reason. It's looking bleak and I don't think I ever will, let alone any time soon, but I need to try it again,
to see. Mushrooms might be the best psychedelic, or DMT with MAOi, with smoked DMT being the most psychedelic or
entheogenic.
So it's really like God communicating with you in that language. It's physiologically linked, as we were created in His
image, so that's just the way it works, no kidding. There are other DMT trips I've had that are easier to remember and
describe, and I haven't really had any no-words for it kind since from what I can recall, but there are other strange ones
people've had, if you've read Spirit Molecule. Once is enough for some people, so that's insane.
I can remember the first time I smoked DMT. I must have broken through eventually, because it then looked like I was
underground. I remember having to smoke it a couple times, I think to break through any veils, which I recognized as a
chrysanthemum. It was like orange. After it was almost over everything was dark and it looked like I was underground.
Then elves ran up to me, and I figured they were what Terence McKenna was talking about when he said machine elves, or
described them, although I haven't ever really seen any self dribbling jeweled basketballs. He also said the machine elves
were self transforming, which they were only sort of. Obviously, as it is DMT, and PSYCHEDELIC, in my other
experiences with it, though, the self transforming motif has been apparent with other objects, not just elves, or machine
elves. Then, during this experience, they moved, there were about 8-12 or 16 of them, towards an object that looked like a
bigger version of them, except different. It was like a statue, and lifeless, although it still seemed alive too as well. They
were sort of venerating it, or showing it to me. I didn't have enough time to try and talk to them personally, because it's too
fast, and only 5-10 minutes. They were like white, green, orange, and pink, and there was an overall clown theme to them.
They were also like aliens or kind of insectoid, maybe computer generated. They were looking at me, and acknowledging
me. It reminded me of the spaceship screen in Toejam & Earl that shows how many parts you have like this:
Then it started to run out and there was an overall "goodbye" or "see you next time" thing, or "you visit so infrequently!"
There was also like a "nature" theme to it. It was easy to remember, for the most part, or explain. I didn't write much down
at the time because I thought I'd remember it forever, then I thought I could still write it down as a good idea anyway, but
then it was that the elf part was only really rememberable (and the chrysanthemum) and for the other parts there were
basically no words. So that could have been the big picture. I interpreted that to be a traditional DMT experience, so it was
hard to remember or explain for the most part. It was pretty psychedelic compared to my low tolerance weed and edible
experiences, and one tab of LSD experience. I only tried low doses of mushrooms a couple times later on (or I think before
that), and it just felt like I was really stoned off weed but didn't smoke. I'm still not sure if I had the true psilocybin
experience, but I know you can not break through off mushrooms, either because of too low a dose or a different random
reason.
Once again, I'd like to comment on my "indescribable DMT psychedelic" experiences. I've tried mushrooms before and got
streams of geometric shapes and other things but it didn't make me feel like I was about to die. Someone let me try their
DMT once and it was like mushrooms, similar geometric shapes and colors streaming by, pretty weird, but I also didn't feel
like I was about to die, despite how similar that was to psilocybin.
When I tried DMT as previously described, it wasn't like that at all. It was a different genre or template of the hyperspace
DMT experience. I can see how some might think they were "low level" of "closed eye mushroom like", but no. They were
way more intense because they made me feel like I was about to die and forced my body into a sleep like state, and I
couldn't move. I basically blacked out, and slowly came to, and when I did, I realized I had been looking at the most
beautiful thing I had ever seen (that was constantly changing, it wasn't just one "scene" or
"thing") - for the past 5-10 minutes at least. It was like my consciousness left my body and was in some space we go to
when we die or before we are born. Then I came back.
It was synchronized with the dose, and was easier to remember as it ended and flushed out my body. So that's why I couldn't
remember most of it or describe it.
That's why I can only recall like a few seconds of it or so - but it still happened to ME, and I can recall the essence of it, as
it's in my memory. I know for a fact it was the MBTIHES (most beautiful thing I had ever seen), and, as is typical with
DMT, that it's hard to describe or explain, like there are no words for it. It's literally impossible to remember, that's what the
entities say to me.
Terence McKenna said they say "don't give in to astonishment", which is true, because then you can't focus or concentrate.
But it isn't easy, more often than not, no matter how much experience you have with smoked DMT. I haven't tried ayahuasca
yet, and don't think it would put me in the same spot for hours. TM said aya doesn't go as deep as a smoked DMT
experience.
So no, it was WAY more insane than any closed eye mushroom visuals I've gotten. That's not why I said mushrooms might
be the best. They're different. But, I'm still willing to try them more to see. It doesn't mean that if you experienced it
yourself, you'd do "a better job" at describing or explaining it, let alone integrating it.
Stephen Szara in the 50's noted that certain doses of DMT were too high, that subjects couldn't recall or explain what had
happened at all, something also duly noted in the Spirit Molecule Strassman study. That's why they went with the lower
0.4/kg dose as the standard injection. Szara said such high dose experiences were actually less useful, because of that fact.
Lower doses, or "levels", are easier to remember and the entity contact, more obvious.
I thought it was weird that my higher dose mushroom experience "resembled" a lower level DMT experience (not the ones I
was just referring to but the one in the first paragraph), but that DMT is shorter. However, I wasn't worried. Because, I saw
that my earlier DMT experiences, were way different and powerful. I was completely gone, then came back. With
mushrooms if you don't pass out, you're still there with that. I haven't had any DMT like experiences with mushrooms,
except that they make it look like there's a 90's rave dance party in your eyelids. That dose of DMT kind of did it too, it was
two tokes. However, the DMT psychedelic experiences I speak of that people seem so confused about, were way more
intense, and just PSYCHEDELIC. My DMT experiences were more Faerie/Fairy based for some reason. I got some alien
and elf stuff too, but I think that's just the nature of it. It's kind of "toybox" like or "wooden chest/cabinet". I think it was the
"face of God", as described by Jacob in Genesis, wherein he founded a town and named it Peniel, because while in that spot
he "saw God face to face, and yet" his life was spared. He saw God face to face and lived to tell the tale.
END
And no, they weren't chrysanthemums. Only the one in the 4th trial probably was (with the "stick figure" dancing) because
"my brain couldn't possibly generate any more insane psychedelic imagery", and it didn't fully feel like I was about to die,
just heavily, heavily sedated. It looked like it could be broken through, but I couldn't move (to smoke more), and didn't
really have any extra on hand. It was a coincidence that it worked out that way. It still
looked cool and nice, but "my brain couldn't possibly generate any more insane psychedelic imagery", not without a
tolerance break at least. Typical DMT experiences as described in Spirit Molecule are always interesting or nice, but
whenever I had smoked DMT extracted by myself, it was always just "more personal" and plain weird, and psychedelic.
Shyguy's Toybox from Paper Mario is another good example of what it'd be like for me.
It was truly alien in every sense of the word, even connotations you can't comprehend unless you've tried it before or are
currently there experiencing it.
It isn't all about getting as high as possible. Mushrooms are supposed to be "kind to beginners" and can say "is it strong
enough for you, asshole?" Unfortunately, I took high doses of DMT before I ever really took high enough doses of
mushrooms so I don't think the visuals are similar, or get as crazy, except on really high doses maybe 60 dried grams or
higher possibly, DMT is like a high dose of mushrooms in 5-15 minutes. Call it 5 dried g in silent darkness if need be, I
think you have to focus on the closed eye visuals or eidetic imagery. It isn't hard, just requires any discipline if anything. So
it could be respected. I think they have a more "doping" feeling whereas LSD is more "stimulant like" after a while or
"mathematical/analytical" and synthetic feeling.
With DMT once is enough for some people. You shouldn't really abuse any opportunity and look at it like a game. They're
as potent as DMT. Take each experience serious or as a learning experience, you don't have to see it as a "next time" always
being possible. Any time could be your last. It should be about the visuals. You have to ritualize it or plan it on days where
you have free time and an actual schedule, I wouldn't try to party on it or anything. I don't like watching TV on
psychedelics, although sometimes it's actually decent. All the while any inebrient and television can give you a horrible
experience while it's peaking sometimes, it's probably better on the comedown or what have you, it really just depends on
your levels of threshold for sensory input. I do like TV while stoned such as LSD & Fantasia or synching Wizard of Oz with
Dark Side of the Moon.
You could learn an enormous amount of information from what the mushroom shows you, DMT does it too, except it forces
you, then you can't move, and the psychedelic imagery can be insane compared to what else entheogenic techniques I know
or have experienced, mushrooms are still unique although you can tell it's like DMT. You can't say which came first.
Mushrooms are supposed to be better because they're more alive. Acid is just weird. Mushrooms have been around for
billions of years and tap you into the akashic records whereas LSD has really only been used for hundreds of years at best,
so it just tunes you more into pop culture and the cosmic unconscious. DMT is also connected to the akashic records but it's
too fast and hits you too hard to really ever get any mastery over it. Ayahuasca is a good combination because it makes it
more like mushrooms and last longer but Terence McKenna said it doesn't go as deep as a DMT flash. Salvia is similar if it
makes you pass out or lay down but the visuals are way less insane from my experience. So there's entity contact included,
except with saliva I noticed it was more like "quasi spirit contact". I've also gotten characters with marijuana but they're
usually less animated and more like picture frame type things that pop up sometimes, and other times it's more suspended in
space seemingly made out of jewels, with DMT I sometimes get beings made out of light.
I was going through my initial journals and it turns out, I got the order of some of them wrong.
The "sick figure dancing" (it was kind of fuzzy, not exactly just a stick figure) happened before the "neon blue and yellow
electric streaks" thing where at the peak I saw warm cotton candy clouds before coming fully down. It was totally such a
ride. There was also "music" playing, like a sound, a kind of "birthday cake" anthem or like I said earlier "holy chanting" or
something of the sort.
I've only ever heard the buzzing sound two or three times out of all the times I tried DMT, and it was always for a short
time, like 1-3 seconds. People tend to make a huge deal out of that, but with me, it only ever really played a more minor
part.
I'm almost done transcribing it out of my notebook. I was going to write a book at first, but it's taking too long so I might
just post it here or online somewhere as a PDF. I was adding notes and commentary to it but it's taking too long so I'll just
post it all, then go back and revise it by adding more footnotes as it is.
Irrespective of people's opportunistic tendencies, I still can't get over how most people whom I had shared these experiences
with "aren't impressed". If it ain't one thing it's another.
I took DMT's mystery and unexplainability, not only as a challenge I figured I was worthy of since I started studying and
pondering about dreams in depthly since before I started kindergarten, but also, I thought I was smart enough. However, it
turns out, the more you think about it, the more there are no words.
People take it to mean I'm not smart enough or responsible because I said it can't be described. Then they tried to imply they
were just ~4 dried gram mushroom visuals. No.
I read the Spirit Molecule before trying it, and hadn't heard of any experience like the kind I had, although, they injected it
IV and I used the sandwich method, sometimes with weed. I think, any effects are exactly what they were.
It doesn't mean someone or everyone else "deserves" everything I own because they feel they're smart enough and haven't
tried DMT yet, so if they ever do, they'll be able to explain it, just because I said I couldn't explain 2 out of at least 20-25
DMT trips. It doesn't mean if you explain it you "win" or get a prize. Or that if you "predict" what the trip will be like,
computers are smarter than humans.
Anyway I don't think most people will get much out of this journal because I wrote it somewhat vaguely on purpose.
Unfortunately, the meat of it will be in the afterthoughts which I have to add and didn't write then. Then I could include
further thoughts and analyses, as well as data and the history of DMT and its usage; etc. It's not supposed to be that kind of
book but it's turning into one. I was originally going to include it as a section of a greater work but ran out of time. It's more
so about memory. It's like a dream (and yes, techniques can be developed to help dream recall, such as a dream journal),
which are hard to remember. It's literally like trying to explain a dream to someone, except DMT is like a dream on steroids
if anything.

----------

Craving your interaction

Taking 100 ENXPs in the vicinity wouldn't conjure up the same kind of amusement as with that.
Therefore I can't be taken for consideration in these matters with the same veracity although I may be open for light
discussion and some joking around. Who knows where it'll take you. I'll love whatever you need; I don't drink but if you
need one I wouldn't say you shouldn't have one. It isn't as overbearing as my arrogant attitude. In fact there's nothing to
rekindle. We each spend time with people that are replacements and they shouldn't be. I tried to say that it would be more
difficult to throw a party if time coalesced. I'll say this much, there isn't anymore to be found in heroic antics. I'm currently
learning some coding, so if any bros out there know that I'd be glad to hookup. Needless to say I won't actually call anyone
bro. Maybe in another twelve months you can. Don't watermouth it. I made a post but deleted it so am using this as a
response. As everyone knows all that could be expected was found in there so no need to repeat here since there's as much
content as there was before. It's as simple as sin being a consequence of free will. It gets you the right amount of high. Just
sitting there smiling like a playstation one era graphic image toon racer jungle tropical track digital scenery. He said don't.
They're not thoroughly studied texts. Torn. You aren't free now bro. A gradual accretion of ticks and blemishes adorning a
once blank tablet. There was more to it than that. Everyone is always trying to claim everything. C'mon. Get over yourself
already. Sheesh. It's like saying goodbye. The saddest farewells but society and our lives dictate where and when we should
spend our time. We have an odd contortion of a person standing here, angularly checking out all the curved surfaces.
Locked up in a personal hell, a small ten by twenty of all your belongings. Grooming but not so as to be too delicate, being
careful to leave a few hairs unplucked so it looks like you didn't care so much when you actually do, or did. Coming up with
a good quote and then later on thinking what a stupid thing to say it was - it wasn't clever at all, was it, for a variable of
reasons. A variety of reasons. The second one. Missed his key. A real nice skull trigger, sadly it coming to that. But it wasn't,
it was something else entirely than talking head review asking question back and forth, just asking a question and then
getting a response. Got to pack it all in now. Until it all just recedes away. Because English was hard, it always was for him
so it was odd to one day have decided to take it up, besides having a few routine interest in a classic or two. I'm filled with
liquid right now from the soup stock and something that's more. It's too much for my body to handle and bear. Getting
through art is a chore these days. Except it's not, I just said that. And now people will hold you to your word. They'll try to
be more interested in art than you as a statement that more earnings are deserved. They deserve more for putting in more
effort. It's utterly ridiculous of course. He waited in the dark for hours for the time to get puncing. Always has to do
everything at the same time. There wasn't enough of it in the day anymore. He had to practice multiple things while
balancing multiple projects in between shifts at work. The urge would be too great to do anything else. "I don't want to sell
it. But I wan't to be paid... For... Something," he would say. You can just combat it. Every silly thing they do, be better than
that. Any game they play you can play too, by being better, in a sense. It seems like there's enough time in the day for it all
but there isn't. That's where the real beauty lies. Just as long as there's enough marijuana everything is fine. In the mind. It's
like someone placing something somewhere, for you to find, but in a tricky spot, so maybe you won't but hopefully it takes
a long enough time than it should have, and that was the joke, it wasn't the best that could have been done but maybe all,
given the circumstances. A reminiscence. Wanting to hear more dialogue on how the medicine was all necessary. One
behavior he would like to see disappear is that of most kinds of imitation, even of the biological sort.
"That must suck," he says, cruising by in a drop top with dark sunglasses and a mold of brown hair wrangling about on his
head. "It does suck" said the compatriot. And there are chimes bellowing, vocals singing, and movement to all the grooves.
Just a small caring boy. Carrying all the tools. When the sunrises they will set to work. Flim flam flim, flim off. How did
you determine he was falling off? "Well you might have to put those pauses on a pizza" he says morosely. "Damn, comin
down on me heavy like a tired hammer at dawnlight."
He went outside into the big city alive and became a part of its routine doings. He walked past the store and exchanged
greetings with the clerk, who had been there once before when he entered the shop. He made is way down to the station. A
man haggared into trying to buy some goods for a small price but he declined. Stop. You left all that behind. He haggled on
while simultaneously telling the person he was with to hold on, already a number of steps of the station. They held on. She
was a woman of his equal. Take a couple papers, he offered. No thanks. Then take it. He began to offer the bag of bottom
grade marijuana to him. "No, no..." he intimated "I don't have three dollars." No three dollars, free, he established. It was
free now. He wanted his hand. He offered it and the man first tore three papers from the pack and placed them in his hand.
Then he turned the baggie upside down over it so all the wed would tumble down and get stuck in the corner of the bag. Of
some shaking and fixing the weed crumbled sloppily into his hand and on the papers, which were meant to contain it. The
hand was stuck back into the pocket for concealment. He went on his way. Who knows what his motivations were. He
glanced back at him to see him walking away with a cigarette, and blowing smoke, observing through the sunglasses.
A happy feeling that would be, to have the roll and to be smoking. Not only because it hits the brain but gives a reason to be
doing something. It perhaps, might feel as if time isn't being wasted. A homemade euphoria solution. He would need to go
for an edible craze next and soon to see the whole other part of the plant and its intoxication, not to mention healing
properties. He took a stand in the sunlight, where the roof is exposed through the two bridges that are constructed over the
station. It's mostly shaded then but he wanted that good spot in some sun, while it was there and lasted. The busses stopped
and more people came walking tot the station. One was a burly redhead wearing work uniform: a red shirt and black pants.
She carried a bag and a grey sweater. It was a rainy day. She first paused by the ticket booth and rummaged through her
sack. Finding what she needed she proceeded her next activity before taking a stand, or seat, and waiting for the train which,
with a glance to the left, was going to be soon as it was approaching that instant. There would still be a few minutes.
Moments like this is why he needed to be a student again. Or get some kind of pass. She was a cute redhead with the orange
complexion, looking big in her work outfit. Looking like something is wrong. I should have talked to her. Now there is
remorse. She left. I could have risked it, ticket or not. Why save one? So what's it worth? It's like they but with talking
instead of something else to relieve the pain. They must do it or else it will keep building, where it could potentially burst.
They must do it if their life is to have any meaning, then. Without it, they are just shells incapable of manifesting their basic
desires. They are insane. Living a lie. The true ones are honest because they had the integrity to follow it up, or live it out.
There were people smiling while cruising in their cars, co pilots abound, some cars making squeeky noises apprpriately for
the piece of handiwork that they are. She left. AS they all do. After a while anyway. Not in a guy's way. They leave in a
woman's manner unless it's an imitation of what a man would do, which is usually a pale imitation. No one likes their own
medicine, do they? You already know what's coming.
While low quality the marijuana was appreciated and held him over the rest of the night, during those uncertain moments
where smoke just bellows to be called out.
Going all out. In a not too out of context diatribe I have been known to compare skin over the face as a kind of weird
evolutionary projection meaning, it's just slapped over it. The lips are slapped on there, stretched out in place while it
elastically grows over the top of the forehead and around. With proper concentration you can see into someone's face, their
skull, their meat, their slapped on lips. Just look at them. It's a walking skeleton. Incidentally it's an uncommonly used
observance. I couldn't have put it better myself except for the notion that it is a temporary cover, the advice is to stretch it
and smile, move the muscles, physically make an effort to move the wrapped around skin to a smiling, happy notion.
The shadow looms over it all. A new day, the dawn of one. It still occurs. What Jacky tried to do was illuminate it for us, at
least a sliver or as much as he could by showing what his consciousness was like at as many moments as possible. It makes
it so that it improves our collective memory, being able to understand or memorize everything at once is where it is at.
That's the ultimate goal spoken of in all or most religious-scientific doctrine. Terence McKenna said all you have to do is sit
on the beach or somewhere calm and peaceful and look, and you'll see this thing there just waiting. He would smoke a
bomber and then just look and see, this thing. Well all I see is impending doom. Maybe I'm not looking right on the bright
side to see the non doom aspects but I don't know what else to say. Bill collecting was a real thing and this guy was down on
his luck. Couldn't even remember if memories were real or fake, conjured up by some imagination and influencing the
mindset in a an overall bad way. Because they could be fabricated in the first place and poisoning the mind. Because
everytime someone leaves and you're alone the lesson hits you again over and over which is to live in the moment and make
the most of each. Live it to the fullest. But how is the question. People are constantly searching for kicks. Found in many
forms from creating art to taking substances like beer to create that jolt. Your boundaries are just dissolving to the point
rational thinking isn't always being used to congruency. Anything seemed possible. It was when we went to the market and
the girl at the counter and the guy at the other one did a mocking of committing suicide by pulling trigger in mouth. Before
he first moved into the house he did a tour and visited it first. He only met two of the tenants, Sammy and Roger. The
landlord showed him around, and it was a somewhat small place with small space, and one person who was moving out, a
Mexican by the sound of his name, stayed in the room blasting music the whole time so we never saw him that day or ever
after. He moved out. But he was playing loud rap music at a high volume in there and seemed to be having fun. That should
have told him enough right there but he couldn't quite put a finger on it. Maybe he shouldn't have moved in. Looked around
a bit more. Saw some other places. But it was a done deal. Some part of him wanted the move to be done as soon as
possible, minimal stress and activity. But that was the consequence, a boring living experience with mismatched roommates.
The rest of the tour just passed as one of them displayed wisdom that promised to be useful while the other one was just
budding. And so it went down. They sat in the front room for a meeting and the guy in the room continued blasting the
music. There was nothing the landlord could do, since he was moving out. And defiant.
A dream where there were a couple spiders in their webs hovering above my bed, just when I was going to go lay in it.
There was one hanging there to the left and another on the right, some foot away, dangling. It was as if they were conjured
by my mind deliberately. The one on the right began to descend the web. Then it shot one out diagonally onto some
furniture and began walking towards that, on the web. Then it promptly jumped. I made it jump. But the other spider
remained, rendering the bedding unusable. Looking like a brainiac, one of his favorite pasttimes was to stand in front of the
mirror after one of various drugs would kick in, and compare the effects over days of the experiment. Whatever he took now
had his flesh looking slightly green and purple and the eyelids were highlighted giving the impression of some kind of
insect. But it was a biological phenomenon of a human being, flesh and all, traces of previous evolutionary ancestors and
everything. Those eyelids. Will never forget those eyelids. In fact any face will look strange. Mushrooms had him in the
bathroom staring into the mirror feeling the universal love and energy but perhaps had him marvelling at his own image for
too long. He needed another subject. And heavy doses of weed make you look at people like you really haven't looked at
them before, you notice bone structure and how the skin and lips are just wrapped around the meat skeleton, just slapped on
there and someone called it a day. He had to check back one then two more times because he swore h noticed some detail.
Upon checking there were still some fluctuations moving across the face, cheekbones, nose; etc. Slow, slight movements
that if anything signified the onset of a potentially higher dose if more were to be taken. Maybe because it was dark he
stumbled here and there walking across his way to the room, but maybe that didn't mean the drugs were kicking in. As
mentioned, it was dark. The marijuana detoxification process was always slow and tawdry, for the first three days or so.
After that the cravings and desire to smoke it ceases as if nothing ever happens. You can get in control. The body always
knows when it's time to detox. He almost made a girl earlier. She had a petite frame and oversized spectacles, light skin,
perky breasts, and wild frizzy hair. Her face was rather unique, however, she wasn't half Asian - black and white. It wasn't
so much trouble getting over to her really but they finally clashed paths and she had said the first word first, get things out
of the way. She told him the machine wasn't working. She had plans, to go hang out with friends. 'I stay near here. We can
hang out,' he said. Aahh she reacted wildly and lifted her arms in the air to touch the leaves and branches as they walked
passed. She smiled and was overall kind, until she told him she had a boyfriend. That was her response to saying they can
hangout. So she seemed nice but he didn't have the guts to tell her she had black dots in her teeth, probably from the coffee
drink from the Starbucks. He shoulda been able to suckle on her tits. But it became complicated after that. After stepping
out to fulfill some inner nihilistic call for existence but mostly to stave off a boredom that shouldn't have been there he had
to step out now and fulfill the plan before making it back safely home. I got the usual. He went to the store on the corner to
get a black n mild and maybe a coupla snacks. This was accomplished after the pleasant interactions with the wait staff who
asked if he'd ever even bought one before. She threatened to punch him for not having made up his mind but it was already.
Joking around with people like that isn't always plausible, or even intentional, but we must move on as she handed over the
goods in exchange for his payment. He went back and there was a guy rolling a blunt. After the crowd gathered he almost
frightened and then ran after a security car came up, but it was just to give the homeless man another package. They have a
habit of saying they don't care about the pot before getting on to business and then driving away. So he continued to roll the
blunt and light it. I made promises. He walked more off the premises next to another kneeling man who said he was about to
roll up another joint. I offered the guy a dollar as he was offering me the blunt to puff on one or two times, said he doesn't
need one but if I have one for him good, if not, he doesn't need it, but all this was said as he exited the scene never to be
heard from again, so now it was just the kneeling man and the homeless one, offering chris and other commodoties,
including a nice pair of long white socks which I desperately needed but didn't have the cash on me at the time because I
made it a thing to walk out the house holding only cards. But earlier in the day at the Starbucks there were those two
magical women the one I met face to face as I entered the establishment and made my way promptly to the back still too
nervous to approach the girl I came in there to, walking right passed her and going to the back for a few minutes. The other
girl was in her exercise attire looking good in the yoga pants and tanktop showing off her nice creamy skin. She was there
studying for exams apparently, the whole load open spread right on the table a psychology textbook with all the notes and
papers as she came back right out to gather it before going back in again - she was leaving. She had a particular kind of chin
that when she looked down at her smartphone it would curl a little bit but she wasn't fat by any means. She looked rather fit
and had the attire to contribute, only thing fat on her were the desirable legs and thighs, and buttocks, just the right size. The
rest of her was small and defenseless. Perhaps I should have switched targets at the mere sight of her. I tried to waste some
time. But I knew it was enough. When I got up and went in she was gone, so I called it a day. I walked out ready to go to the
left until at a magical moment I saw her to the right and so the campaign began again. It wasn't too hard to catchup to her.
But once I did the other girl in the exericise attire was to the right, at an equal distance, so I had a choice to make. I decided
to stick with the original frizzy haired girl but all signs point toward the other one being more right for me. And after our
short little walk where she revealed she had a boyfriend, I had to lose most interest and we parted ways. It isn't what I
signed up for anymore after that. And that is the female's ultimate strategy of keeping unwanted males away. Others will
still persist and indeed that's the key but I didn't want to anymore. She wasn't making it any easier for me. So she went that
way and I turn around again and again see the exercise clothed female walking this way again, perhaps she will enter the
starbucks environment and we could mingle although she looked serious enough and it was a hot day, sweat dripping
already. Instead she crossed the street and went the same way the first girl did. Hm, I wonder what's over there. Knowing
these streets it all leads to the same direction or back. So they couldn't have gone far unless her car was parked over there or
something. I should have went, for these reasons alone. Never leave a part of the puzzle a mystery. The more detail the
better in these things. Or perhaps not. But it certainly would have helped. But back to the streets the main blunt guy left and
we had the kneeler rolling up another joint, saying how he's in town a few days for a moving job, twenty bucks an hour to
help people move and I remark something like that's a good gig especially if it's frequent and not just a one job here and
another there here and there but rather a fully employed enterprise long term that you can look to have growth with the
company occur when you stay there long enough but the homeless guy keeps stumbling around saying hurry he doesn't
want to get arrested. But none of us mess with that crystal. That's a whole new level of it. And perhaps one that isn't all too
useful or nice. We finished it and he told me to keep the roach, also gave me a small stash of the herb for later on and I was
thankful man, didn't know how to repay him but I am in that debt should I see him again, could maybe spare a dollar or two
or whatever I happen to have on me at the moment. I'm thinking, maybe I could have gotten lucky with either of the broads.
The exercise wearing one was caucasian but a certain kind, she looked European but was probably Mexican of some sort,
minimally exotic, slightly Americanized, she looked good and deserved to be mine. We could have went that grocery
shopping together. But alas I made the wrong choice. I was also waiting in there a darker skinned girl walked by across the
street, looking indian or something and I wanted to meet her. I was getting bored and restless and needing to do something
like this. But when she crossed she didn't enter the establishment, rather, she crossed the street again and walked on and on.
I was about done but didn't pursue. Obviously, I should have because I had good feelings about that one, she wore all dark
and had dark hair and an unreadable expression. Heck, I could have went a little just to get a better look. All these years and
my skills might be getting rusty but I still know the main ideas and which mistakes not to make. Everygirl seems to have a
boyfriend these days, even when they don't. It's highly skeptical. The lust is too strong. 'I could easily overpower these
women,' he thought. He's starting to look like a beast in that mirror now, widened nose bridge, hairier, more facial hair and
unibrow potential. He had to shave to retain his youthful looks. He saw people around. Next time he saw the same ones he'd
have to say hi. So what is the concept of a friend? Another lonely
stranger in this wasteland that comes into a social agreement with you, that you will wheather the storm in communion and
bear the same sufferings as every person is susceptible to. So you have to have a static mindset but people nowadays can
easily change theirs up or accuse you of that. Dealing with high class material. Can't even think now to focus on all the
inundations that aren't required but also don't hurt to take on.
He was chewed up and spit out, and forced to try and make a living here.
He dropped off at the old place to get a few supplies that they didn't pick up on the initial run. Still had a spare key. He
unlocked the door, went through the hallway through another door, and another, made a short sprint down the new hallway
then finally reached it. Opened the door. Inside, it was dark, the tenant locked inside his dungeon somewhere enjoying life.
The usual, the great. Just let it slide. He heard a stop in the activities as if the person in the room heard him rummaging
around in there and stopped to get a listen on in, as if it was unexpected, which it was. He'd have to make it quick. He found
the charger they said wasn't there because maybe they didn't search hard enough on the initial run. He should have just
grabbed it the first time on in. The pack was full and he was carrying more things than he had hoped or assumed he would
have. It was time to go. He had to be somewhere later too; there was no use lounging about the area. He exited.
Then he showed up at Danny's place. There was someone already there; a woman. He joined the circle; she was talking of
another friend's financial issues. Both didn't know what to say as she asked Danny if he knew of any temporary solutions.
After a moment of silence and awkwardly staring from one to the other he suggested a temp agency. Danny had to comfort
her concerning the option. "Look," he said, "A lot of important people have turned to temp agency's as a resort." He said this
with a tone suggesting he was grateful for having the possibility come up in the conversation. After she left they lounged
around for a little bit. Danny walked up the side stairs of the home and boarded an upper lounging area. Danny was mainly
really minding his own business, in his maturity. He knew what people had to offer, and more importantly, what they
wanted. He could see it in their eyes. In their age. He walked toward an upside down bicycle and began to fix the chain.
There was a dog. He played with the dog.
Off that bum weed, the shit they smoked in the fifties. Getting swindled for the umpteenth time. Lose all your energy.
Subtitle transcription. And for all the people who cared, making sure you had steady mail in your inbox. The idea is to make
a story out of it. What Jacky tried to do after some initial success was use notes and material as the story itself. Your fridge
running is the classic joke plagued among writers. It's when there isn't anything on that could detract from attention such as
music or the television but the fridge is still running and making some noise so there is no escape from it, even if it weren't
and completely silent there would still be outside residual noises going on in the scenery so music or shows weren't the only
thing needed to make some noise, it would allow outside influence and maybe not whole original thought. It would be
muddled by outside influence. It was like when you were a kid listening to a band or artist live performance and they would
memorize all the lyrics or chords and music to the song they performing without using a cheat sheet or stumbling and
forgetting they would remember it every time and it just seemed so superhuman as you were in awe, they qualified man,
you could tell, only the best of the best deserved to take the stage like that. That's mostly what people wanted to see without
knowing it, it must have been. It was allowed. How can he ever see his one night maidens ever again? There were the
different ones he would see in his dreams and visions. But once the fun was over it was impossible to revisit the scenery.

This freaking guy. “What do you have to eat in here?” he asked. “What do you want?” “Pizza,” intimating he knew there
had to be some frozen pizza somewhere in the place, trying to show off his smarts. “What kind of pizza?” “Any kind.”
“Okay,” Aaron said, “Let's go to the store and get some pizza then.”

So why the name Aaron? Roughly, it's a biblical name for the brother of Moses, who told the tale that Moses didn't want to
tell.

It already only being ten o clock and he already had his first slice of pizza. You know how it goes, pizza for dessert, pizza
for breakfast. He could afford that lifestyle because the intense amount of cardio he put in, so he rarely had to worry about
the consequences as if he didn't.

But the worst and most powerful of all is getting shot with a stone metal bullet, one capable of cracking the skull and
leaving you instantly dead. You had to hope it was instant otherwise you'd feel the eternal pain. And man, would it hurt like
hell. The bullet cracks the skull which is hard enough to pierce. It flies at a high miles per hour in order to accomplish its
goal. Something made explicitly for that purpose, truly devilish or malicious in intent, it was made to protect man from
other evils like deadly animals it normally would have a tough time defending itself against. But the men come to the
indigenous land with their guns and bullets and raid the villages, all the shamans can do is blow against the wind and hope
the spell turns the bullets into dust but more often than not, it fails miserably.

He thought perhaps it accounted for such other differences like adding an extra stroke to otherwise perfectly typed words
because the other language he had and was learning contained syllables with double components instead of just one letter
however if he was fluent in the normal language that would have a tendency to be less of an occurrence because it would be
the main “dominant” one so you'd have to divide the time and record each time you mix it up or it would be due to the flow
of the fingers and people get mad or unappreciative when you don't help them out or contribute to their jokes and games and
endeavors inventors peppers and beat members to find out someone asked an inquiry and if someone else who didn't know
what that was was there then they would asked so he spent the time going over and showing who that was to snap back and
realize it was make believe manufactured inattentive irrelevant irresponsible negligent it was just a response to what would
have been a hard shell to crack it had to be the last of it black people and kids have it heat out here out to get it too
dangerous to even step outside for one minute the guy had blue eyes and everyone had a music video now to go with the
song, they had enough money to put it up and offer a film crew to record events that's the way it always has been except
with the record companies double back and take. He was living in one vortex intertwined with nature in a shamanic sense
like a shaman would do with others and wizards the energy and wind influencing everything sort of like chaos theory with
the butterflies and animal protectors, sending one after another for some primitive reason, there's nothing else to do in that
society, sometimes out of spite, and there's a place for it in the modern world too, one standing adrift in the humid forest,
mosquito lands on him with its dart and bites or sucks blood, he is one with the forest, the jungle, the land, it is a part of
him, should you wish to locate him at the time he would have had the mosquito on him and now spots on his skin are
slightly enlarged, where the blood was squeezing out, all things, cats, dogs, the birds, ravens, crows, pigeons, cormorants,
hawks, eagles, chickens and hens, bush warblers, and owls, wolves, tigers, lions now and the jaguar. It was the life worth
living, considered worthwhile in the jungle,

Bad day in Sac town, burning hot, humid, bringing out the worst hypothetically and the sweaty and mustiest dry wait at
station for the train when it comes and stops so you approach the door but it isn't all the way up so it moves up some more
bringing the proper spot into view so you board it and there's a cute girl on, stand awkwardly behind her and the glass, more
people get on including a poor singer with headphones, she couldn't really hear herself but definitely needed some work and
was annoying all the other passengers she looks back to see what all the commotion is but doesn't make eye contact which is
what I want and slicks back her hair with a pleasant look on her face and glasses, sexy, small thin arms, wants me to notice
her instead but I don't make a move all on the train past downtown and sixteenth street until we get to twenty ninth, my real
destination, I decided to stay on longer because there's more time on the ticket and I need my money's worth, she gets up,
turns around, remember I'm behind her the whole time, she wears a Grateful Dead shirt and the whole reason I hesitate is for
a lack of things to talk about but that subject would have been perfect since I was recently learning about them and their
songs so there was nothing to really worry about the whole time, I let out an oh, we both get off, she was texting I didn't
know who, she signals to someone down the way, it's an older woman maybe her mom or some friend, she was wearing a
dress like structure with armpit hair, definitely hippy, we definitely could have had things in common but what is this pre
existing prejudice I have that prevents action, just observance, I get back on after she meets and disappears into the abyss,
wait at sixteenth street, all the sexy students come there to wait, one gets off she looks all bitchy and sexy, I had to leave the
Indian princess dark skinned because we weren't riding on the same train so she gets on, I get back on the Folsom, the sexy
bitchy girl is on, I stare, she stares, maybe there's something good there, I'm not looking my best, feel I don't have it in me,
can't do it, oh man she's so sexy, but I get off on twenty ninth, when I do the grateful dead shirt girl gets back on with her
accomplice, I foolishly run back around when I see this and get back on like nothing happened, walk past, guy asks if I need
a seat and I say no, keep walking back to my original spot, the ticket guard says hi, I say hey, we ride, come to a bumpy
stop, the other ticket guard asks what the driver is doing with that, just casual conversation, one seems to have her daughter
on board, the sexy girl gets off at thirtyninth street, the next stop, with a disappointed look on her face as she hurries out, I
could have got to know her a little bit or got her number, made her day perhaps but that's all down the drain, the train moves
on and I spy the original girl who wore the grateful dead shirt, the accomplice gets off, must be her mum, she pulls out a
book, starts reading, I easily could have just introduced myself, asked what she was reading, I like reading myself, maybe
we had that in common, but there was the gnawing feeling that i'm not ready to pick up a relationship, or something, some
nonsense, some fear, something pathetic, a waste of time, if only I could go back I'd ask, i'd tell, i'd get to know her, her
name at least, she dug me, I could tell, wasn't looking my best, had a beard and what not but oh well, she looked young,
bright, and sunny, happy, thinking she's more grown than she is, she must obey, she was rare, the ultimate hippie chick for
me, all ready to go to San Francisco, and chill at the hippie hill or Dolores Park, smoke a few bowls of grass and lay on the
grass on top of a blanket like a picnic and read, or try to, discuss music, see a show, find out how much we actually have in
common which might be a rough fifty or sixty percent but there's enough blanks to learn something from one another and be
intrigued by what they didn't know or weren't into, all converging into an ultimate knowledge of unification, she was
searching for the ultimate kick, now she has to settle for something else, someone else, and some other gameplan, it was a
once in a lifetime opportunity to meet kind of thing, pay attention while it's going on kind of thing, the usual, the necessary,
the fantabulous, it reminds me of this one time in San Francisco. Wherein,

We arrived at a mall, the whole family, me, Jam, Albert, ma, pa, everyone and it was Christmas time so there were
decorations up. These decorations were the most awesome, awe inspiring, impossible structures there were. I can't begin to
describe the shapes in these dreams but they were there and confronted the shoppers as soon as they entered the mall. They
were an emerald green and spiky and in palace formation. After that we descended the escalator and came to the mall
grounds, which looked like a regular mall. Some people went their own way but we entered the first shop there was which
was clothing. I have in my wardrobe a grey shirt but it has holes in it. In this shop, we saw the stock selection of those shirts
which included other colors, and I jokingly held one up for all to see particularly mother which was good for a quick laugh,
then set it back down. I wasn't going to purchase another for a replacement. But the next shop we went into was more
mystical and had a fortune teller vibe. There was a fortune teller lady inside and we helped her with some problem. Some
movers moved an object in the store to replace another but at first it looked too big and she objected but then later on
accepted it as is. The next part of the dream had me believing I was back at home in real life. It started with shopping in a
grocery store as I seemingly ran through a list of all the things I needed to get, in real life. This included some fruit, grapes
and apples, and tofu, and other things too. I started filling my basket but had to make sure not to get too many things or else
I wouldn't be able to carry it back home. I planned on making two trips as well just to get more stuff. After some time in the
store, I walked back home and crossed the street and ran into a few characters on my stroll there. When I got there, I noticed
I had a parking spot for my car, the old Geo Metro, but it was all busted up and unusable. This was news to me so I snapped
photos of it, and had to turn the flash on my camera. I got to my place, in the apartments, and unloaded my groceries. It was
dark and as I tried to leave some intruder, who unfortunately was kind of bummy, wouldn't let me leave. I knew him and it
was sad to see him like this. I performed a light body slam on him which was effective enough then was able to go. And the
next part of the dream involved the other tenants of the complex. Apparently, I made friends with them. They were having
parties all around and I could choose where to join. It happened as I was walking back out and ran into a group who were
signing papers that I hadn't signed yet. There was a girl there. I took a liking to her and joined her group later on. It was all
about taking selfies. I left here and there to check out the other rooms but always wanted to come back. She wore a spaghetti
strap and this one time I came back it was loose and exposed her breasts. That's when I finally pulled her onto my lap and
took the selfie. She rummaged a little through my computer to try and embarrass me but it let her be exposed to my creative
endeavors so I half allowed it while playfully fighting aback. I ended up fucking her. It was nice. I held her waist. After that
they were nowhere to be found and I was sad. I went to an appointment to check out another room for rent but bailed. I
wanted to go back to them.. They were an interesting group. They asked if I was from LA and I replied I would move to LA.
The next part of the dream was a big game of Super Smash Bros. 4 with my brother. We played a dream version of it similar
to my dreams about Mario 64. The games were long and different. I chose Dark Pit. We got to sudden death and the time ran
out. They were just too good. In another match he chose Luigi when I happened to choose Mario and I lost. That's the
variability of the game. This version also featured a third person mode similar to how Banjo Tooie would sometimes
transfer over to a first person mode for certain challenges.

Ever since Trump got elected i.e. we got a new president people have been acting differently, not fault of their own but the
times reached extreme heights and paranoia generally ran rampant. People were scared to do the things they have been
doing beforehand. It was becoming a police state. There was no promise anywhere. All around was lost hope, bills to be
paid, nothing exciting to look forward to like broken plumbing and the threat it will set you back. Why couldn't it just work
and function like it should, like it was made to, flawless and perfect so problems could be avoided. But it just didn't. The
reality of the situation blasted in. The cold hard truth. Things weren't perfect. How could they be? But the whole shtick here
was to pretend they were for best results, while it all became a product of the overall human endeavor. The great strive.
There's nothing to take the pain away, no art to practice that brings tranquility, nothing to save you. No good videogames to
play or films to watch, it's all just holding off the inevitable. It's just a waste of time until the cold hard reality hits you.
Dulling the pain. What is there to do? Can't naught but sleep.

Why am I suffering such? More like, how, am I suffering such? I suppose we can start from the top of it all. A real purty
jerky knoll. This is how it would have to be. Goldeneye James Bond Tomorrow Never Dies was the sequel and the one
about the newspaper guy trying to have exclusive access over news and current events distribution. It seemed a formidable
goal if accomplished. In the World is Not Enough we saw tycoons trying to take over the world's oil supply. It doesn't seem
like you could do much if you just had oil but, it turns out, you could in fact control nearly everything if you took over the
world's oil supply and distribution. It was a big deal. Die Another Day was just weird and a little bit tedious. They tried to
twist it too much, make it overly complicated with a lot of twists and jam pack a lot into it over all, with lots of characters. It
just happened to be the last one in that series.

The dog lay asleep. When you lay by it it doesn't care much one way or the other. It just wonders why you're there. “You're
a human”, it says, “You should have better things to be doing.” That is than laying there with it, him, or her. They could
probably do that sometimes. I will forever think certain things are bizarre. In this instance by things I mostly mean quirks. I
mean quarks could be bizarre and interesting too, possibly hard to understand or fathom, but there are some personality
traits too that make people do or believe certain things, grudges that allow them to exercise a belief, something far from
actual reality as can be. A world swirly mass of confused language syntax refusing to be corrected if only to squeeze out a
little dopamine for a little bit longer. This can't be the first time I've discussed these kinds of things, and probably not the
best exposition concerning it.
They could probably pull a card sometimes. The narrator rather done it a few times. Inadvertently or not exactly consiously
but maybe people could feel or pick up on it. They reduced him to what he was like he judged them. He just saw something
and took it for what it was. But of course he could reconsider. It was his fault for staring I suppose, in the first place. But
darn well, they could hypothetically slap it back at him. It wasn't really his business anymore. He could just be a chubby
colored black man in hand me down mommy's boy wardrobe. In reality he was a brit in misplaced USA American society.
Or as close as could be managed. When the beard and mustache grew he had a joker's smile. It was perhaps mostly done in
imitation rather than an unstressed flexing of the facial muscles. He was only ever getting fatter in older age, if that was a
thing. He'd relatively been the same size throughout growth. His prime may have determined whether he'd be bigger and
chubbier in older age. He still needed to exercise regularly. If he'd had any response to the intermingling of insults, it'd have
been that he could just do something else and play it off. He had so thought that he was doing everyone a favor by being
more repulsed and not getting involved in their lives or conversation too much, so that he wouldn't intrude. But the excuse
that it had to come with what could be perceived a slight insult for participation meant it could be absorbed. Recruits at the
academy could allow decorum on their overall uniforms which of course meant a degree of individuality was achieved
during each day's dressing. You could have tattoos. It gauged the overall wealth and health of the individual. Carl Roberts
was perhaps in need of more. He didn't have any tattoos but could get his first one. He was in overall need of new
equipment so was looking forward to the next assignments as it included a pay grade. His mustache indicated the kind of
mood his smiles and such were in, or how he was thinking by shifting and occasionally contracting or tensing out.
Sometimes he sat and did this but it could also be during group conversations. He had inadvertently invented scenarios
amongst all the other mates involved based off what had happened and what he had seen. He assumed some people were
watching or noticed events he took part in. So that would be when they judge or glean information. It was obvious what
most people wanted. He didn't have the traditional character most hip people would associate with the now times. He was a
little older now. The members in his group used this appropriate time to fill him in on the details of their report that was
recently finished up. But he could only half pay attention now, so the excitement ended up more so resembling babbling.
But he did try and pay attention. Instead what mostly occupied his attention was another recruit chatting with another recuit
up ahead in the rather large room they were in. The man chatting wasn't a friend of Carl's, but an acquaitance he had
casually chatted with a few times before, and saw him off duty in public society, dining on a meal for lunch apparenlty
single, using the phone tablet device for entertainment or to occupy attention. It was no big deal. He had dined there himself
a few times. And a week or so later saw another person he knew dining there with someone, sitting in pretty much the same
spot as David was. While Michael was showing him the report, he noticed David casually getting it on with a co-worker
leaning against the enrailment, he was leanign to the side so his tattoo art was visible, and he also noticed he was wearing
clothes than different ones he wore the other day. He must take good care of himself. Hopefully Carl would get enough
money soon to get his own new stuff. At this point in his age he was frightened of not being able to enjoy things to the
fullest. So he busted out all his old stuff with a newfound appreciation but also craved the sensation of receiving new useful
stuff, so that his brain would produce the right dopamine and get that rush with it. The marijuana wasn't working as much
anymore due to excessive use with all the mates on breaks. He looked back at Michael showing the report in his face and
started to pay more attention. “And I was able to get all the research in, and get the documents sorted out you see, but also I
had to...”, “Sweet,” Carl replied while turning more around to focus on it. He thought it would be good enough for now until
anything else came up. He finished writing more of his portion of the report. When it was all said and done in a few weeks
perhaps they might be ready to be deployed. He wondered if he could ever make deeper pals with anyone here available, by
smoking more ganja with them. But David didn't seem interested in the marijuana. He found his success in the actual
pursuits such as getting that good, solid meal in, with out without the munchies kicking it in. Even though it was a middle
class upbringing it seemed like a short supply of money could eventually ruin everything. Just a small lump sum.
yo im not even getting to the best part, im not even getting to the best part! Where to start? First and foremost I just spent a
great deal of time even getting here in the first place I dont even know what to do and im just left a puzzling over it but it's
all true! It is, and where to start? I was starting and it's sort of all the same thing in the first place but trust me! Its not even
the best part! But how much do you have to know? It was psychedelic as fuck... im in love. I dont even know whats going
on. It was like I was in super mario. And now I cant find the first one. I didnt even take three hits. It was like acid! And that
was the best part. Okay, settling in. I said, I just wanted to help explain it. Its exactly as what I was doing, except I just
needed to do more of it. It is my favorite thing. And it had been a while. And I fear it is running thin, I suppose, as it has
mostly wore off. But it is everything that must be done. It all starts coming back. Like when you smoke it and the room
starts to look all weird, thats when you know. The overall thing bears some similarities to other intoxicated altered mind
states. Maybe salvia, maybe not. Or acid. At first I took hits just to see if it would work, so it was a small amount.
Nonetheless to my surprise effects did occur. So the first hit made something happen. Back in business. It made me question
the whole thing. I didnt know what to do at first. It was hard to breathe and the reptilian feelings came back, remnants from
when we used mainly the R-complex. It felt like I was going to die or something. It had images flashing at me. Like it all
lead to this. When I put the pipe down it felt like nothing. It felt different. Then I saw mandalas, emblems, and runes
arranged like a ritual around the space, with geometric lattices interspersed connecting every object. But it was hard to
breathe. And it was making me think of things. But what, I can not exactly tell you anymore. Once this shit comes crashing
down, im fucked. There were like other people, stuck there. The room starts to change as im seeing all these designs on
everything. Ive been in that state before. It's like some weird existential thing. But the point of it was to have all the basis
down so you can get to the advanced stuff, or the meat of the story. You hear a sound and it's like a space ship comes down.
Everything is a synchronicity, they just take your consciousness not your whole body. The elf spice acts as a signal in the
brain, attracting UFOs. Then they suck you up into space. You toke enough so its like 'oh, what have I done?', but you know
perfectly well what you did. It was what you wanted. It was like your whole life led you up to this point. I was right when I
said I loved the spice. Truly interesting stuff. A lot of things are interesting and worthy of study but man, how about this? It
was like a music video. So I heard the sound and you may have heard people talk about it before but I never really heard it
that much in any of my previous trips. It didn't seem that important and didn't play much of a role, yet it is infamous, and
people wonder what it could mean. Well, for a brief second I thought of it and wondered about that, and then I heard the
sound coming up. It was there for a few seconds then disappeared. Then I heard a loud, crash like noise that sound like a
spaceship or UFO coming down fast, or something. Then it felt like I was getting sucked up by something. Hypothesis: it
was a UFO sucking me up with its tractor beam. I saw the light. As I started to put the pipe down, I see that I am floating in
space. I see a mayan like aztec space temple that is glowing green with energy. Suddenly a wave of plasma glowing green
and orange light energy with a face shoots at me, not sure if it went in me or past me. It was like, “Well, I'll show you this!”
before boosting ahead. Then I start to move along and am in a mystery like room with those men in motion caption like suits
like the pink man (except the suits aren't pink, they're like black and white checkered) and their faces are question marks.
They're like elves, or little minions. I am in this space, which is like Mario Party, and there are a bunch of blocks unfolding
with question marks on them. I see that I am in this hyperspace. Anything could happen. A bunch of things are happening
and changing in all directions, it is really infinite with possibility. But there isn't a lot of time, and you can only focus on so
much at once. There is this space all around me, which looks sort of like the cover of the Illuminatus trilogy book, which
checkered floor and outer space background. I am being shown things, like secrets of the universe, and remember terence
mckenna saying that the elves are showing you something. It all seemed very closely related to death, or something. At one
point I tried to move and found that I was in a green mathematical like grid space, and all my movements were connected to
everything else. When I moved, stuff changed, and then there was a face poking out of the fabric of space time with me,
making the same bewildered facial expression I was. I then started to see pictures of the jungle, and wondered what the
greater intelligence had to do with it. I then saw patches of monkey body, similar to how patches of McKenna's face would
pop up. These things were outside of physical space but the graphics looked familiar. Like, hyperreal, I suppose. Anyway, I
was being shown all this stuff but couldn't pay attention to all of it. Then there was this really tall female like spirit entity,
which seemed to form out of the fabric of the hyperspace-time itself. So it was like everything was one, but these things
were still separate entities from my consciousness, if that one makes sense. This large mother like entity had me in like a
cradle, and was showing me a bedtime story, which was everything that I was basically seeing. All the secrets. But the trip
started to end as it became that. The trip could have become anything, but we settled into that. I started to go back and they
started to say bye, by appearing here and there in various poses. I think one of the costumed me had a tuning device. This
one was off to the side. We seemed to understand that as it wore off, I had to leave. But I didn't exactly want to, although,
maybe I did? Maybe I was scared. But we left, as if it were my choice to leave. I open my eyes and i'm still standing up, as
it's about one or two pm. It was nuts.

What actually happened is that I loaded an amount into the pipe just to see if it would work, so it wasn't even really a lot. I
toked it at first as a test and got some effects so it really did work, to my delight, and surprise. A trip happened but I can't
really remember it. It just made me think about things and then I started dancing – and I have heard people dancing when
they do mushrooms. The pre dancing trip stuff was oddly a familiar feeling, but I realized it was only one hit and not really
the recommended three. That's when I hit the pipe some more to clear most of it. I guess I figured it would take effect. I
recalled thinking about how people would describe a loud buzzing sound and how that never really was a thing with my
experiences. They make it seem like a prominent and important thing, but maybe I just haven't been paying that much
attention. It wasn't my first time thinking about that. But as I did, I briefly heard it for a few seconds. The resulting trip was
a little like a music video of some sort. I started to hear some crashing noise and saw brief instances of parallel vertical red
lines in front of me, then it felt like I was being stretched, or sucked up. That's what my body felt like. Later on it seemed
one of the few explanations was that it was akin to being abducted by a UFO, if their technology permits such
extravagances. It looked like I was in space, it was dark up above and there were dots like stars, and as I looked down there
seemed to be some floating aztec or mayan like alien temple, glowing green with energy. After that, I started to have trouble
breathing... Something I didn't necessarily remember from previous DMT experiences. So as it happened it seemed like I
was going to die, or close to death. There was some darkness ahead of me, and this took place during the afternoon on a
bright sunny day, and there seemed to be a face in there that as barely visible. There also seemed to be other presences there
in my peripherals. Such as the elves but in this instance, you will see that the agents took on a different appearance. The face
thing seemed to react to me, as I breathed and thought different thoughts. At first I didn't think much of the face thing,
because I didn't really see or it didn't appear to be a thing, but as I breathed, and saw it change as I did so, I started to pay
more attention to it, naturally, I would suppose. It was a dark red, dark orange outlined face. I think I mainly saw a mouth,
with sharp demon like teeth. It got closer as I breathed, then I thought maybe it was something. It seemed to get happier or
excited the more I recognized it. Finally I breathed a particular breath, just due to the way my lungs contracted, but it got
caught, and it sounded like I was really surprised as I breathed out loud, like something injured or close to death, and as I
thought that the DMT state is or might be a little similar to death itself (Not to mention the sleep or lucid dreaming REM
state), it seemed to be the tipping point or what it wanted in some way – it seemed to say “Yes!” then rushed up as it smiled
and showed its demon teeth, the whole contours of the face glowing red-dark orange in darkness, and I definitely knew that
the elf spice was working in some way. It is as if I were anxious. Maybe there is an exclusive feeling you can attribute to the
jitters, one different from frightened or shocked, or anything. But then there was a wave of glowing green and orange
plasma energy with a face that shot out at me, it looked like it went past me. Then I basically realized I was in some
hyperspace. Now, this part might be hard to describe, certainly. First of all, there are many things happening at once, and it
isn't all centered to my vision. It's a little off to the left, and it can seem to move, although I was stuck in this one position,
out of shock, paying attention to this and practically unable to move until later on. So there seem to be entities, and they're
men in black and white checkered motion capture like suits (without the bulbs), a little like the internet guy Pink Man
(although, obviously, the suits weren't pink, and weren't even necessarily black and white checkered), and their faces were
question marks. They moved around here and there in a humorous way. Then there were images – I had heard that people
have seen the machine elves manipulating the imagery while one particular elf holds a mechanical tuning device. I had
never previously realized that or unsure if recalling it played a part in what happened, but it seemed like that, although the
entities were the men in those suits with question mark faces. I believe they played the same role as the elves. Then I
remembered that I had probably seen them before in previous experiences but definitely did not remember that until now. I
was going through certain emotions and things, trying to figure out what was going on. It seemed that understanding this
and attempting to convey it somehow was the goal. Anything could have happened. I saw Terence McKenna's head pop up
multiple times in different areas, as if it was like he had the right idea about what to do with this. I sort of had to realize that
all that we do is an attempt to show people something, and McKenna said the elves are basically showing you things. When
that happened I maybe thought that could have been what was happening. I saw some strange object in the darkness that
was blowing out other objects. I was seeing a thing operate in a fashion. It was like the elves showing you an object. It
lasted for a few seconds then the vision changed. There were all sorts of things going on around me. It was like I was in a
mystery room that resembled Mario Party, with blocks unfolding off in the distance with question marks on them. I was then
shown vibrant images of some jungle, but off to the side and in many different directions, there were other things going on,
like in space, and other dimension, but it seemed only possible to focus on one. When things would change, some entities
would seem to take notice. But at the same time, there was some hyperspace off in the distance, some blue energy color, that
was constantly changing. As I focused on the main images, it seemed to be some story or information about how we, or
consciousness/intelligence got started, starting from space somewhere maybe, if I understood anything correctly... there's
most likely no way I can remember. But it seemed like it spread to earth, maybe aliens came and did it, who knows... or
maybe that's just how it happened, and it is a popular science astronomy/astrophysics idea known as panspermia. There's
also the anthropic principle. But I couldn't remember it all and could only focus on one thing, basically. As I looked at the
image of the vibrant jungle, I saw it, then there would be monkey sounds, and patches of gorilla would pop up in the same
way McKenna's head did earlier. It seemed to imply that, apes were chosen to evolve like this. I mean, we all came from
fish as our evolutionary ancestor, things living in the waters that came out to land eventually, there were amphibians and
reptiles and then mice and mammals which eventually turned into people, as primates, and previously there were dinosaurs
as the “dominant” life on the planet, so... it seemed to be information on that. That disappeared, and then I was looking at
hyperspace. At some point it started to wear off. Everything was the same... It was all connected, and the trip turned a
particular route, the theme being some bedtime story being read to me, based off my interpretation of being fed the
information. It was strange, but everything as literally like the same thing, but it was all different and always changing.
There was a huge mother like entity different from the men in suits with question mark faces, that seemed to be made out of
hyperspacetime itself, but then again everything like was, after some point. It just went in that direction because it came to
be the most comfortable and familiar at the time, due to my bewilderment. But as I say, it literally could have been anything
by the time I figured it out, I could only focus on one thing, and time was now running out. I opened my eyes and some stuff
was still there, I tried to move and when I moved my arms, everything changed so as it was amazing enough as it was, I
didn't move anymore so it wouldn't change as much, because there was still stuff I wanted to see. When I moved it created a
green mathematical like grid going off into infinity, that was like space time and how everything was one and connected,
different interplay between waves and matter. Then there was a human like face next to me on my left that was poking out
of hyperspacetime, and it was making the same shocked with mouth and eyes wide open expression I was making, except it
more seemed to be yelling than I was. It looked like it was streching through trying to poke out of the green grid, except it
was closer to me. I though it could have been a reflection of me, or some other completely different being itself. I realized I
as still standing up and my legs felt like water. I closed my eyes again and there was the mother like entity showing me what
was now the book, and I seemed to be moving towards some cradle. So it was like that. A little child like for me. It was
more complex before but as it wore off it more clearly turned out to be the mother like entity showing me the story, but
before everything seemed to be that, or something, in its own way, except for the elf like men in suits (with question mark
faces) running around, looking like they are observing things. So, I really could only focus on one thing at a time... As I
started to leave the place, the men in suits were moving around. One over here, another over there. They were like spies, or
hyperdimensional agents of some sort. It was just kind of groovy like that, I guess. Kind of alien. It was a little reptilian at
first. I understood I had to leave because the stuff was wearing off, my body metabolizing it quickly. They were saying bye.
One was on its back looking up, like he fell or something, which looked kind of funny, and there was another one to the
upper right. The whole time it looked like there could have been one with a tuning device more so out of my vision.
Honestly, while I acknowledged them, I didn't pay that much attention to them, not to be rude or anything, but because I
simply couldn't. There was too much going on. They seemed to understand. And as I had to go, it seemed like I didn't really
have to, but wanted to in some way or some reason, although I didn't really want to... it was more like I haven't mastered the
ability to stay there longer, naturally, I mean, either by way of using harmalas or being able to induce it via meditation or
some other non drug technique. But I started to go, and as i've said, they were saying bye. I was going because it was the
comfortable, logical thing to do – since the stuff was wearing off. But i've heard you can smoke the stuff, or anything, in
dreams and it will have the same actual effect. So it's about convincing the body you have done something, potentially. As I
opened my eyes the mother entity was the same thing as the hyperspacetime and it was stretching up, it was really tall,
through the roof, and you could see the grid like structure that could demonstrate the properties of space time, such as
gravity. I was ecstatic. Something looked like a dragon. Things were neon. As I came down, I was amazed, and it was like
acid for a bit. It showed me. I was more or less satisfied with that dose. I saw the things, and cannot describe them now. The
room now was more vibrant and saturated, and was moving, and looked a little longer. It looked cooler. But it eventually
faded to normal vision.
Sometimes there's something to say, sometimes there isn't. I couldn't tell you all what happened – it flees the memory. But, I
think I broke the universe. Time seemed to stand still for a second, then go again, and then pause once more for a few
seconds. And then I didn't remember what I was looking at. I was in my room. After all of what happened happened, which
was mostly just me thinking about life and conspiracies, I became more aware of my physical surroundings again. But
everything looked different, like a cartoon. Everything was melting like, dripping with liquid essence. I started to wonder
where I was. I looked at some furniture in the room and it seemed like I was at my parent's house. But I realized it was my
living room, in the apartment. Everything was super slick and smooth, and cartoon like. They looked featureless. I looked at
a poster that was on the wall and it was smaller, but I saw the whole thing. It was now holographic, and moving, undulating.
It had some shine to it. The poster was an indicator as to how much time I actually had left. But enough about the poster.
This whole trip was too psychedelic for its own good. There were no insane visuals or entity contact this time really, but it
was still pretty out there. It was all conspiratorial like. It seemed like I was a top secret government project where I was
allowed to study the approximate effects of the elf spice. This is powerful stuff. I couldn't recommend it to anyone I know or
love. But if they decide to take the plunge, well, go for it. But I couldn't personally introduce it to them like that, I mean...
for better or for worse, it's just too much. If I can nearly panic like that on it I wonder how a newcomer would react. I would
like to though, if it was a good thing and mattered. I think I was outside of spacetime at first. People close to me knew, and
were like secret government agents, and allowed me to study it. It was my purpose for existing... It became my prison. The
stuff can seem like it possesses you sometimes.

Sometimes I like to listen to the darkness. The cold, sweet darkness. Drifting in the night, only occasionally blighted by the
sound of sirens driving by, but the general gist of it is that you hear all the sounds of the night, which would include
different cars driving by anyway on the nearby freeway and always loud motorcycles doing their thing. Dog barks, neighbor
walks. But mostly just the sound of some wind breezing by late at night. You can just feel it then.
I was back on the ground. In some other out house now.

“Don't mind that guy. He's just an asshole. Probably jealous. You're still going to do what you have to do. Just do it, maybe
worry about it later. It can be explained. It's sort of a part of the culture. It just has to be done. It is the method.”

Sooooooooooooooooo let me tell you about this one time my man, probably my favorite or one of the most interesting so
far. I didn't smoke enough to fully break through or dissolve my ego. And this is all stuff that's happening afterwards. It was
the whole beat thing, it worked, one hundred percent I vow to try and return and do the whole thing. It's just right now im
running a tight ship. Everything worked. Whatever I was looking for, I apparently found it, in the least place I would have
thought to look, and the whole thing. I mean, this isn't even what im supposed to be writing. It was something else. There
was some beat voice in my head which was me but at the same time not altogether wholly me, just that voice in your head,
and this is after the fact, but I came up with all these lines, now forgotten because I was coming up with them and thinking
about them while they were transferring into my head, and not writing them down in time enough. I was confused. So if
there's one thing I want and need the reader to be assured of it is that my live little earlier dialogue was trillions times best
this and what it really is supposed to be, but it cannot be replicated at this time. So you must be satisfied and interested in
reading the excuses and subsequent attempt at recreating the next best thing. Obviously, maybe sometime in the future there
will be technology wherein my notes could be retrieved and recreated for the ultimate beat type experience... But maybe
not. It just was that. So I screwed up. I only took a pinch at first to see what would happen. As always the technique worked,
but it wasn't really that much. As always I was doubtful and skeptic. But time and time again this thing can teach me the
new lessons and show me what it really is, show me that I could not be let down I suppose... it was just reassuring and
promising. It was promising. But I took too long to write down some of the original monologues. This is just after the fact
that you are reading. Nonetheless, it went well. So I took the pinch, not really sure what I was seeking at all. I had a ride
coming soon, in a little more than an hour. I took the pinch and saw blue fractal like hyper space patterns. I couldn't stand up
anymore and had to lay down, which I thought unusual considering my previous experiences where I was standing up the
whole time. I struggled to find the perfect position. Eventually I just laid my head down on the ground face first, and entered
a nap like state while observing the bluish grid like patters that were moving, and something slight seemed to poke through
it. After a couple minutes or so – I got up. I was able to, then I went to the bathroom to look in the mirror. The effects pretty
much subsided as I was able to walk. I thought this little experiment was odd – it was no breakthrough because of the pinch
amount. I seemed like a hopeless user. They would treat me like an addict if they found out. People smoke pot everyday and
are more or less left alone to their own devices. Sometimes living on the fringes of society. So I felt kind of bad. I stared
into the mirror and performed checks to see if I was still there. “Breathing?” Check. Okay. “Am I insane? No?” Check.
“Coherent thought processes?” Check. I slapped myself a couple times to see if I would fully wake up. Somewhere along all
this I convinced myself to do it again, but with a fuller dose. I had about an hours worth of free time left. I loaded the pipe. I
hit it, then hit it again. Exhaled. Things started to happen and I felt like I couldn't hit it anymore. I became confused. There
was a sense of deja vu... “Didn't I just do this? Why did I do it again? Oh God – I want out. There's no way this will wear off
in time before my engagements.” I feared. I thought it was bad timing. “I blew it”, I thought. It seemed like something was
mocking me for blowing it. I started to see a brown thing – then some yellow background. It didn't look particularly
pleasant, and reminded me of colors I once saw when I was rather stoned a few years ago – a story for another time!
Although, during that time years ago I saw nicer more vibrant and pleasant colors prior to seeing the yellow stuff thing.
Anyway, I started to see these forms – they were like muscles with faces, one being accompanied by a broad. I had seen a
similar image to this before a few days ago on the internet, then I started to see the face of the person who posted the image.
But these brown masses of muscles had faces and arms and were alive. I thought this whole thing was odd, not entirely sure
why I was seeing it. I then acknowledged a gnomish man sitting on my couch smoking weed, and thought “cool”.
Everything seemed normal. It was just me hanging out, and with a friend or two chilling, smoking – wait, what?! A gnomish
man on my couch smoking?? He disappeared. It was then I realized the elf spice was working, and that I must have been
intoxicated. I saw other gnomish like men, who wore Aladin like outfits. The hat, a vest, and white poofy pants. They were
sitting down smoking or blowing some horn, and they were teasing me because I was scared and thought I blew it. I didn't
really blow it, but just believed I did, so that belief prevented me from fully enjoying the trip while it was happening,
although this was still one of the best or most memorable DMT experiences I have apparently had. It started to become kind
of hard staying up so I thought if I should lay down. The arabian gnome like men were like humans. They looked like they
were goofy, and figured some thing out, like how to be in hyperspace like that. They were in some other dimension. I
noticed the whole thing was like something out of Wizard of Oz/Candyland and also fantasy land, while still remaining
somewhere in the vicinity of sub hyperspace. It was trippy. There were jewels and hyperdimensional flowers folding and
unfolding all along the path. It as kind of like a garden and there was a jewel castle in the background. It went on, but I
couldn't move. The arabian gnome like men were making fun of me because I was scared and said I didn't want to join
them, even though I pretty much really did want to. I was just scared at the moment, not believing that the stuff would really
only last ten minutes. I closed my eyes and saw some stuff too but it was wearing off at this point. I opened my eyes and
stuff was overlaid over this reality. Forms waved. I feared my vision would be stuck like this forever, but I totally wouldn't
have minded, ultimately. It was cool, and my fear began to subside. Then I realized it. That I was scared when I needn't have
been. The thing was enormously positive – it seemed like they were playing a joke on me. It was what I needed. And I don't
think the dose ended up being too large, but it worked. It just has to be that. It was as if they, the DMT overall spirit
intelligence, knew the situation I was in and gave me a trip accordingly, for all intents and purposes. I mean, I just smoked
the stuff, I didn't take it with MAO-inhibitors. I hoped I didn't ruin my relationship with the spirit molecule. When it was
going away, I realized what was my mistake with it, I guess. I saw what I needed to see. But I didn't initially know what I
was looking for. It was pure psychedelia... It eased me into it. When I looked down, one of the arabian gnomish like men
was sitting down, but he was diagonally sideways. They were stuck, or in, some other dimension in a direction we can't
point to normally. So he wasn't actually sitting on my floor; rather, I saw past the floor, and he was sitting on a
hyperdimensional floor. I didn't know or couldn't learn the secrets to the way they access those dimensions in the way they
do. The only way we can do it as humans is if we have enough DMT in our brain so that we can see it, like it activates the
pineal third eye and allows us to see. Maybe there is more to it, more advanced technology that will allow us some other
access, for whatever the purpose of it may be. But it took away all my fear, and the beliefs that I was indeed screwed. I
vowed to 100% visit again/smoke it again. This was the least thing I expected. It's true. DMT is real. Alice's Wonderland, is
real. The whole thing exists. I mean, I thought it was pretty great. And as always, you know, it doesn't sound like a big deal
when I describe or explain it. But if you experience it, it's really out there, like far out. Yes.

There's no way I can begin to describe this next experience. It wasn't too weird or out there, and yet it was. There wasn't
even that much in the pipe, wouldn't you know. But I took the first hit held it in then exhaled and blew out almost nothing
but I tasted, so I took the second hit and was puffing it, so I hit it about three times total. It started to come on and I
remembered some of the feelings and sort of regretted smoking it. “Oh crap, what have I done. Not this again..”, you know,
that kind of thing. I had to sit down. As I did, it came on. And it was barely even psychedelic. Instead, it was pure sci-fi
virtual reality, and there were entities there too. I didn't write this down immediately because I was thinking about it for a
few days. Well, I wrote some down. Anyway, it was like this. I sat on the couch and it came on. I was in this place that
seemed like it could have been underground or underwater. Possibly, it was a spaceship. I can't describe it much but the
imagery still sticks in my mind. I can't explain what I was seeing. One of the entities which seemed like a female was
pointing at me or putting its finger on my head. Another entity was seen walking in the background. They looked different
but similarly ethereal, as if they were a part of different classes or had different roles. Again, the female like entity was
made and coming out of hyperspacetime and was receding away from my view. As it came on, earlier, before the entity
pointed at me, there was a feeling of “Ooh, what are we going to do with this one?” as I entered the sphere. They saw me
and could have been talking to me. I was confused as to why I kept wanting to go back to hyperspace. It was for research I
would tell myself. I just had to see it for myself. Was too interesting to be true. What exactly is this? I'd want to say there
were other entities too but only these two stood out, and I can't be sure. It seemed like hyperspace after hours – and indeed
this was at night. It felt like I was a kid and in trouble, being scolded by my parents. Now, while that was happening I can't
describe what I was seeing at all. It was something like this, though. Well, I saw movement squares (red and blue) that
would be available to a Fire Emblem character if you select that unit. I appeared to be in a virtual reality hub of some sort,
with these two sentient entities there... It was like they were figuring out what to do with me. I tried to take it in but couldn't
really... Again, I was only able to really focus on one thing at a time. Things were blue. It looked like the walls of the curved
space were decorated with TV screens all over, which were shining that pale television light. Like they were monitoring all
over. I was moving, too. I saw transitions but can't explain them, like perhaps I was moving through different parts of the
ship. Completely unexplainable at all. But I saw moving things... Again, this does not at all do it justice and we'd be better
off moving to the next point. I just can't do it. At some point, I completely gave up. I wondered how I would ever explain
this. Then I just said forget it and took the rest of the experience in. Next thing I knew, the entity that was walking in the
background was in front of my face. I mean, real close. So close I realized I could feel breathing on my face – even though
there's no reason to believe that these entities were breathing like us in the traditional sense. But still, I swear! That was my
perception. Now, this guy was letting me know he was there. I was fairly frightened of what was going on. It was like he
was confronting me. I didn't know if this was good or bad. Imagine that I had some doubt that any of this was really
happening. He got so close to my face that it left no doubt what I was witnessing. My mind was going here and there but
this was like “no – you really are seeing this!”, if you catch my drift. So to recap, I saw the entity/alien walking in the
background and a minute or so later, who knows, after all the unexplainable things that I saw, what next I realized that this
guy was in my face and there was little I could do about it. I wondered if it meant I try to come to hyperspace too often and
am not allowed anymore. The entities were kind of hollow but outlined. They were like light blue, and just outlined – but
their body seemed to have stuff on/in it. I can't explain any of this one. I didn't know what to do. Then it felt like my brain
was attached to something and was being pumped. This was a familiar feeling for me. It felt like I was on a UFO being
harvested for information. Whatever it was that was there. Hypothetically, we are plugged into the matrix like that. There's a
relationship we have with the beings, and you don't need to see them or know they exist to be enlightened necessarily, but
that's what it was like. I heard they are interested in feelings and human emotions, so they were extracting data from me. In
exchange I was allowed a glimpse of their world. I seemed familiar to them. Now, there is a chance they can read your mind
too. It comes with the territory. When something like this is going on, you better believe it's within the realm of possibility
that they know nearly everything. These are like higher dimensional intelligences and can peer into lower dimensions. It
seems like when you have enough of the neurotransmitter in your brain, you seem to 'wake up'. Then the aliens know and go
over to you. They know this can happen but that you probably aren't necessarily supposed to see it. But if you do well, they
accompany you until it runs out. It is something like that. I have yet to try the experience with haramalas so who knows
what else it's really like? The experience is kind of awkward in and of itself to begin with. DMT has this sense of humor. It's
totally natural and comedic. I mean, the way the pink entity was pointing at me, and the other one slowly walking in the
background – it was just so... Alive and cognizant. It seemed natural. Like, I don't know, man. I know what I saw. Take note
how different this was from other experiences, especially the candyland/wizard of oz one with gnome men. I mean it was
'psychedelic' I guess, but it was major sci-fi virtual reality as well. The mind has an inherent ability. I shan't tell you what
this means yet, but just know that the robots are taking over. This was information I gleaned from my previous experiences
but no one would listen or take it seriously, not even me... I didn't know what it was. But I recently heard a reputable
psychonaut explaining it all. And it made sense. It was pretty much the conclusion I came to too! Just takes a bit of
homework to do, know what I mean. Of course, you can still use VR for various things and activities. The key is just not to
let the robots take over. There are people who want this, obviously it means the destruction of humanity as we know it.
There's no 'merging with the superquantum computer'. They don't want us. Like I said we can probably still use technology
and computers but we can't let it get past a certain point or we're doomed. DMT and mushrooms... Help you prepare for the
next step of this journey. So we're probably in a simulation already as it is. So again, I can't really describe what I was
seeing. I just remember being in this place, and two aliens. It started to fade away. I don't remember if there were any
parting messages. I considered taking another hit out the pipe but it was far away and I was somewhat content to let this
pass. Later on when I hit the pipe there was nothing really in it anyway, but I guess it would have been interesting to see
what would have happened. It was kind of dream like.

There isn't really a way to explain this next one. A few days before this one I took in a heavy amount and had to lay down. I
saw a grey background with colorful organic fractals coming out of it constantly moving and also heard a voice. I was on
the ground in a sleep like position laying against a couch. The voice impression was like “c'mon, look at this guy. Get up”. It
seemed like more than one person was there. I saw some greenery too to the left but couldn't go over there. I didn't know
how or if I could, it looked like some other land. But I quickly woke up and it was over. It made me think about quite a few
things. That time was more what it wasn't than what it was. I almost saw the drug nature of the substance. But it really does
only last a few minutes. I was kind of disappointed in my experiences because I couldn't take it all in. There would always
seem like there's a lot more to it but time waits for no man. Combined with an MAO-I or a high dose mushroom trip might
be different experiences. Oh no, I'm not complaining not at all.

After that, I finally tried it again. This time was like a cartoon. It slowly crept up to me and I almost didn't notice it. At first I
saw a red chrysanthemum approaching. It had a web like geometric pattern. There was something in the middle, like a
clown face or something. Before it appeared I saw a small dark presence run from my right to the left into a different room
but I was too bewildered and mesmerized to pursue any further inquiry into that. Then it seemed like I could have been
being violated or visited. This was to be expected and familiar given general entity contact... But they were certainly there.
It was men dressed in full body spandex suits again, except I saw no question marks over any faces. The red and pink
chrysanthemum was undulating and fluctuating, as if to be saying no. Like I was being denied access for some reason. The
middle part formed into a finger like shape and it was shaking no, like I wasn't ready or allowed to see any more. I sort of
relented. Suddenly it was like a cartoon. The man in full body spandex suit was dancing in my upper left hand corner. It got
really repetitive like it was driving a point home. I was watching the same thing over and over while thinking about my
childhood, brothers, and step dad. It was like an intro theme song to a cartoon, like Looney Toons or Tiny Toons, or some
Sega Genesis/SNES kind of thing. Saturday morning. I couldn't remember what the message was but this thing went on and
on. It wasn't really going to change. But he was dancing and I was seeing flashcard like things. When I opened my eyes the
room looked more mystical. I saw a big blob of cartoon land essence right there and everything seemed alive. But the effect
was slowly diminishing. The couch that looked like it was alive was slowly going back to normal. Some people just want to
get loaded.

What actually is going on? Life is bustling with life, there's so many things to do. Writing. Projects, after a certain point
does the art become life itself? When do you find the time to do other things? All this stuff, all this art that exists and stuff
people made and manufactured, and machine made things too. People can come to you and you show them things. Silence,
complete silence. I don't know at what point you could still be called a man, with all the decisions and choices they have to
make. It's like all in a quantum cloud. Do you do what you're told? Will it set you on the right path that's what's best for
you? Why and how could you deny such guidance? To set off on your own path, you may wonder whether you will have
been better off otherwise. They used to use benzedrine to try and link minds together and other such social experiments that
friends hanging out would do while generally intoxicated. You have this one body, and that's it. Once it stops it's game over.
It's a yearning for a normal life.

I wanted to take another hit but couldn't. I didn't know how. It just suddenly came on and I couldn't explain it. It was
worrisome. The biggest thing is, what if other people are suddenly worried about your health?

Sonic
I always thought this one was interesting. It was the first time I experienced this template of DMT experience and yet, it was
still a classic DMT experience but I had heard about it before.

orange spaceship
This particular bowl of it I toked had the usual kind of effect where it put my body in a panic and it felt like I was going to
die or something. At the same time you remember and recognize the fact that you smoked DMT, and are cognizant of the
notion of visuals or psychedelic effects coming on. I panicked too much and wanted it stop before settling by sitting down
and trying to give in, I couldn't stop thinking if it was breakthrough or not, or if there would be more because there were two
alien doctors sitting at a computer terminal control station desk with a fairy floating in the middle of this scene, which took
the form of a floating glowing orb. It was sort of flashing light purple pink like fuchsia and at the time I was sitting in front
of the couch sort of sprawling. I tried to just concentrate and there was no real way to ingest any more of the substance to
see what it would do. It seemed like a spaceship getting ready to take off or take me through a portal but as I said before I
was too scared and wanted it to stop but it wouldn't for 3-5 more minutes. I tried to focus on the picture and it was forming,
and looked kind of like it was outside yet also inside and was orange-yellowish and greenish because you could see some
plants outside the windows that were there, and the aliens were wearing lab coats. They were the “alien doctors” from
another galaxy. Their gestures were sarcastic and human like, and they seemed to be asking if I was ready but they were
impatient. The fairy looked like it wanted to blast off. This interesting scene eventually faded and as it did, I wasn't scared
anymore and wanted to give in – as usual. I tried to pack another bowl but wasted it because nothing really happened,
probably due to tolerance. All that happened is that I saw a 90's looking light pattern that seemed related to the same theme I
saw previously. I'd probably have to take it slower or add more intent to it.

The DMT containing trees and other plant shrub matter had to be grown and harvested by local farmers, usually, or the
person could always do it themselves. If they aren't receiving the alkaloid containing plant matter then they would have
grown it themselves from a seed in the soil. It had to have been being shelled out at a factory like rate.

Like a perhaps uncircumcised cock massaging the inside of a birth canal, a demonic alien activity approaching and
performing a violating cancerous amount of pounding and rubbing
.you were a slob of live human living matter pressed against the cold hard steel of the ground in a puddle of liquid strangely
thick and opaque, milky and watery.

“I wasn't just plain seeing things like elves or the pink elephants – that's DMT. It was more so like I was accessing
memory.” Trying to figure it all out. Or at least describe it.

The blotter paper had a strange taste to it anyway. When it kicked in, unsure if it had any influence upon the effect at all. A
struggle of direct sensory perceptual experience or the necessary dull moments in between farming and harvesting the crops
and fruit. You were essentially expected to be high or stoned at maximum value at all times. The third eye can crack open
and just have all the coloful psychedelic imagery visions and technicolor images just stream out and crack creak down the
skull flowing and working and not have been in any of it until then. So there were multiple things all going on at once.
Ryoto san sat near the front of the classroom today, wearing an orange-yellowish shirt. You'd have to have a vision. Sit
down and talk about it for twelve hours. Just stimulate it all. It's all just constantly changing and swerving until then. It's
imposible.
“This is impossible,” he reported. There were two aliens wearing lab coats overalls just working with a clipboard and hat in
a warehouse over a cattle bearing prod checking out the subject probably with a flashlight on the headband trying to
diagnose something and label it call it a name to describe its inherit abilities. “You might need to re-up the dosage,” alien 1
said to make the other one possibly note it, male or female alien 2 or more and groups of them all whole on. But first it was
only the two, really. And he squeezed the syringe to have some drips of water to plop out.
They must have all called it anything for a reason. It was something similar to trying to figure out what something was,
constantly evading being pinned down needing brothers and extra eyes, sisters, for pretty pennies. “What was it?” The
dosage?
They called it acid for a reason. Any kind of doping needing to be done to the system. You have to get on the wave of the
system. It'll melt you from the insides and dissolve your boundaries. There were marked similarities and differences
between it and DMT, whichever was the more common or popular. Get put in a straight jacket.
The buddhists would say you go all mental and inward to the mind and confines of it. You could get far out with the
martians and tin men on a red dusty oxide paperback 50's tv station antannae mind waves emanating and even throwing out
any radiation goop into the environment being programmed and tuned into the secret frequency of all existence and pop
culture. Time was an all enfolding time cube crysanthemum speading out across all dimensions. You could be a
mathemetican major walking out of a building and still run into a wall. Just all too distracted to be bothered by it all
anymore trying to explain. So if you were to stop. And take it all in. So all dimensions run across stretch thin back again
again? And spiral off into even many more?
It was like a pointless chain of repeating pain over and over again. Stuck in your head like a tootache, and tunneling back
and forth through the mind for an idea of what to do next just chugging through. Probably missing out on peak experiences
every time. It wouldn't have to bolster your creativity.
“Checking all vitals,” “Looking good. Pupil. Check.”
I couldn't get any love. You couldn't give me any of your love what with what I had to offer or provide? Or what was
looking for? Not sure? Well lookie here see. It was all too magnified times the spectrum of mirrored halls and time axes to
see what the child was playing with. You could get angry to the point of start seeing colors. What could it mean or be
interpreted?
The kid reaches for the object, the tool, the candy treat ultimate guide to the satisfaction of answers and quenching feelings
of the existentialism at hand. But the father with a stern look all thoughtful like stops the hand before it could grab the
object. He looked like he knew what was best for him and put a lot of love in it. Care, determination.
All these memes already have it all written down and solved for ya, we're just experiencing the time reamaining of it for
some purpose or cause, which we already know. I used to love DMT and had to think about it considerably to figure out
what it is, since no one knew. But I didn't look at it like that anymore. Would there come a point where what you love has to
be set free, not necessarily just so others can enjoy? Share?

A roach bug skuttled from the street onto the sidewalk and went some more into the grass onto an electrical power box, as
they walked by for effect and an event that transpired for them to watch. It tried to get out the way. There becomes a
military vibe when it all melts down and you join the club so to speak, although I wouldn't put it like that. You download
into the sphere. Become uplinked to the rules or any other thing you might need or then come privy to. You can learn how it
worked to with any science and explanations regarding it.

It was like a club because you could have been at some casino as if, looking at life that way. But let's just get this straight –
how did it even happen or all begin? Did drugs make you smarter? It was never about that and mostly anti-drug crusaders
who started that rumor. The other aspect or saying is that it's about the mind expansion which doesn't = increased
intelligence per se.
“I don't got shit,” he said while he began pouring the contents of the marijuana bag, not opaque, onto his hand to personally
examine how much was left in accordance to his memory. “You fuckin serious, that's it?” he said once they were finally
revealed, two medium sized nugs and one small, swearing there was more early and not recalling smoking that much
actually. “Save these two,” he said. “We can smoke this small nug, and probably need to find a new plug.”

I remember most things. And had to just come back to jot some of it down I guess, even if I don't like the prospect of any
residual outcomes from the output. I came here to write a line I was supposed to have but forgot and ended up replacing it
with something I knew wouldn't make up for it to get things started. Then began to write the replacement but couldn't
remember anymore. So it was a disappointment to me.
Whatever you knew wasn't what it was. It was just opinons and beliefs. Robert Anton Wilson (RAW) said belief was the
death of intelligence, whether that was his opinion or something deeper is up for debate.

“This is fucking bullshit,” he set out once he realized it just wouldn't work out and wasn't going to in this flowing ethereal
sea of manipulation. Who was he even? Was everyone having an identity crisis? Ego dissolution? We were all just trying to
figure out why you just couldn't be stoned all the time, or high. “What a waste of fucking resources,” he would drone on and
on all night until he had what he wanted, and what you would get would never be it at this rate. “I fucking hate this guy,” he
would start on, “turn him off. I can't stand his fucking accent or voice, wanna be try hard speak english faggy whiny
sounding, trying to maintain to not burst out in laughter or tragic tear crying spout bursts. Like, just start crying.” “I heard
that, dude bro.” “You can raise a joint to that one then eh?” “I thought I'd be more stoned than this either way.” “Bring it to
me any day except on those down and off when the brain has to regenerate and revive back. Tolerance. The science behind
it. At any rate.” “That fucking sucked. Could have been better at least.” “Well, I don't know how we managed to pull off
such a thing anyway as it was. Or as it is.” “Well I know what you mean. It was pretty crazy. It was a wonder as much
worked out as it did, all things considered, and that even that went off mostly without a hitch.” “Does anyone really know
how it fucking works by now? Surely some do. Not all must be safeguarding the secrets. No one ever told me. Or told me
to. It wasn't just that research into it was banned in the 60's further stifling the movement. Just curbsiding, and stalling
progress in those respective fields for a few years while we gather back round and interpret the already existing data to see
where it'd be headed in the future.” “So if I non chalantly rhetorically even ask why you'll take it as a sign you're right, just
cause? Requiring very little critical thinking. That's what the stall in asking is. There is no reasoning with these people. They
just copy and adapt asap.” “True.”
It was like “Israel” all throughout. The RBG represented god, acid was awesome. I melted into the floor and became one. I
became one in that way, it was all mind based for lack of a better explanation.

“Here, just get this one.” “Yeah,” replied an anonymous person from around the corner who had walked and been over there
that whole time, who could he have been you might then wonder? The first man ripped open a package and tossed the
wrapper in the trash. “And don't forget the -,” it was as if he cut himself off on purpose as he breathed that sentence out.

You got this you got this you got this. It was a terrible situation they got themselves in.
“It smelled like burritos with hot sauce and salsa poured over it.”

It's like what is it? That thing you can't put your finger on, think of why even bothering.
It's just nonsense to begin with

gotta figure out what to do, I want to prioritize it, not just for you, but for me too

I like new jeans that shine and glimmer for at least two years before fading out from repeated washing.

And so throughout time people found themselves further studying subjects, sometimes getting more esoteric by its
proficiency, before getting biblical or involving the religious texts and manuscripts in an enormous way. Following one's
interests or passions, let alone inquiries, isn't always guaranteed to give that person what they want or were directly seeking,
although any implicit meaning they might get out of it could count as being what they were actually looking for, such as the
pirates searching for gold parable, wherein the adventure was worth more than the final conquest of finding the buried
treasure.

For people with hobbies it is sometimes wondered how much detriment too much time doing said hobby could cause.
Exercise is good for the body but fatigue is also a notion, and stress on the spirits or limbs, causing a recommended required
rest. Reading is another one, as we all remember our parents telling us not to read in the dark without light lest we want our
eyes strained. Everyone says reading is good and healthy, yet life is about balance, so how much is too much, or when does
one feel the need to stop and/or do something else, such as take a break of any sort? It may be like any other activity, in that
too much can possibly ruin or alter your perception of reality, causing unrealistic expectations or beliefs. This goes for
different media, all with pros or cons at something. Obviously, the visual arts have the advantage of depicting matter,
wherein with novels or text, it's mostly left up to the imagination or for the reader to picture. This is where phasing
technology out with the times and the idea of vintage comes into the mind. People merely got tired of it, and wanted to
focus their strengths elsewhere, as in, the notion that they don't need math since they'll never use it outside of school once in
their chosen career field (if every thought that way and it were to compound, would the world be able to operate as
efficiently with only limited amounts of people in essential roles, and most others pursuing fancy? I would imagine that idea
leads more towards Utopia), however, it suggests they simply want to waste as little time as possible doing something they
don't want, even if it may “help” in some regard, even if it isn't one of their preference, for it may influence a change in life
direction.

When things aren't going to one's liking, they generally seek out change. This is the basis behind things like anarchy or the
revolution, or a desire for a paradigm shift in political and social thought so as to improve the chances of success for more
people. As things may not be “fair” for one category of people, upon a change, things might seem a little less fair for those
whom had previously held any advantage. It isn't so simple as saying the super rich and top 1% of the wealthy will have to
give up all their material goods or bonuses such as the luxury of flying private. It isn't so much an attempt at setting up a
new regime, which is something seen throughout history (things wars are sometimes fought over throughout the course of
human civilization). Most people might not like doing math, however, that doesn't mean it isn't useful or advantageous in
some circumstances. Putting all the math you've taken on a resume for a job interview already tells the employer your
ability to reason complexly or use critical thinking without them even seeing you or speaking to you yet.

Simply put, you have to gauge and wonder what harm too much consumption of a thing could do on your, say, quality of
life. If you play too much sports, or spend most of your time skateboarding recreationally, that might subtract time away
from other activities that could either earn you more money directly or contribute to your health more optimally, if it all
desired. If one keeps in mind certain laws of how the world operates they shouldn't have much problem trying to integrate
the world of reading fiction and non-fiction into their life in an unrealistic way. So one had always been concerned over
what the ultimate consequences of too much novel reading would be. Not everything is implicitly described leading the
reader to have to fill in any gaps of visual imagery, which could vary from person to person, in which the author may have
had a specific intent despite that, and can sometimes be accompanied by illustration (third party as well). The fact is,
different mediums are just that – different mediums. It isn't always meant for, say, a novel or book to be adapted into film, or
any other experimentation with it like video game or comic book film adaptations, usually blockbuster. It, in fact, could not
just be an attempt at pushing the opposite, to remove a fad from popularity or usefulness, in order to replace it. If you were a
part of that scene it could feel that way, or maybe it is so, for adaptation is sometimes equated with intelligence the faster it
could be realized and integrated.

What was he doing in that shitty apartment?

There was like a contest to see who could figure it out first. The Ancient Greeks started it, and figured out immortality
through geometry and freemasonry. They were in the other dimension, and had some information encoded. They were in
effect peering into the future at us – still. Or, perhaps looking into the past, or even just some other dimensions. It was meant
to be fun, yet serious. They seemed all knowing and omniscient anyway.

The fact of the matter is most of these and other earliest tales mentioned have their origin in German and French literature,
as well as English, before being translated throughout, as well as there being influence from Welsh and Irish lore and
history. Middle High German specifically gives a clue as to the locale where most of this took place – this meaning the
creation of these tales, and not only always where the actions took place, such as the wars and battlegrounds they took place
in.

----------pt. II

The Fabled Psychedelic Experience

Life became the ultimate joke when he tried to understand what being high or stoned meant. The ultimate joke ended up
playing on him instead of him playing it.

Keep in mind this takes place during the era of people claiming to desire “deep, intellectual conversation”

This weird California dream. “Hold on”, he would say, “you want me to do what?”
The marijuana made him not want to go to the store anymore, and be content with the food that was already there, even
though it might not be what his taste buds were apparently craving – craving sent from the gut biome to the brain to
convince this body it was making its own decisions of the ego, a nice, healthy, fit American guy somewhat mildly intelligent
deciding he had the freedom to eat reasonable foods if it isn't too often and he dines mostly on nutritional needs. So there
were “cheat days” where he could eat whatever he wanted, or anyone could while on the diet, stuffing the body with carbs
and sugars where they normally wouldn't, substituting raw leafy greens and vegetables and fruit for processed refined
carbohydrates like sweets and pizzas just so you don't overdo it while operating normally. A fortwithing conundrum. The
marijuana must be stopped. It was purely recreational in lieu of tobacco and nicotine but he was beginning a plan to start
those too. But he still wouldn't touch the alcohol again.
He would start to see the same people over and over sometimes when he would be out and about the town. But sometimes
he and a neighbor would leave at the same time or run into each other at places outside. The marijuana was supposed to
provide mathematical like grid structure images or visuals, mostly closed eye but if your tolerance is low or you get high
enough it would generate them in your head. But it gets to the point where people would blaze everyday rendering this herb
more and more inert, dulling out the receptors from overuse. So it was said it was best to use it once a week, or month at
best. Then it was better to use it once a year or really, get massively stoned once every five years. That would make the
tolerance down, and in the meantime for maximum effectiveness you'd have to exercise heavily and eat the right foods to
make it work. Which would just be foods lower in fats, because the THC accumulates in fatty cells and tissue.

At first he couldn't decide what to wear this night. He dressed as he would have for the new day. There was novelty because
it rained heartily that day, although it had sprinkled and hailed the past previous couple days too now, the sunny weather
will still return later, but it rain again alas. So it were that he had picked out a particular outfit. It was just simple and
worked, for what it was that day. A simple means and example of jeans and shirt with any other appropriate garments for
special weather conditions. He had to pick out an outfit to get ready to depart for the night. But when he got dressed that
morning he just kept the same casual pants on but change the upper shirts. It was a nice “throwback” feeling in which he
donned uniforms from previous seasons that he hadn't in a long time, and didn't regret the outcome of the donning, it turned
out, because it looked good together wearing it. But his yesterday's choice was somewhat antithesis of it and rocked just as
well together. So he thought, what would the people want should the objective be to look however good you can
appropriately for what was going on then. He figured no one would mind too much if he did another switcharoo and wore
the same thing more than one day in a row. The look today was more experimental and he had a notion that he asked for
more advice and the overall consensus at the time seemed to be that he should switch to yesterday's outfit again. So it was
decided then. He would make the switch and look less casual.

So the place closes at two and I cant tell if what im wearing is what it should be or if not then what. So we have to decide.
And meanwhile there are way too many things happening at once and it all doesnt always come down to how you expect or
want it by the time the acid kicks in or any of it when it hits you like a ton of bricks. At this point I couldnt tell if the acid
was because the two tabs I took earlier that took two hours to kick in or if it was because the supplemented three that
seemed to begin to take effect immediately and then he couldnt tell between the two and who it should be. So it could have
been that

LSD is just a mind expansion tool that alters your perception and allows one to perceive the different wave planes of reality
it all shifts on and wherever you go there you are and stamp it in and call it a Kerouac maneouver if that's what you want.
And all the time more if that's what you wanted. It was a time barred computer program simulation. All I can remember now
was some weird temple like crystal zone used to harness all that was there. And it just can't be done. It was too much work
for one man alone. At first he understood the consequences of what he was doing. After about six hours into the at least ~12
hour experience is when it'd be more safe to venture out if need be given the new circumstances, coincidentally it being late
at night, or early in the morning, with civilization arising again in the morning with the expected offered functioning.

You could always go someplace a farther where they encourage the medicine's use.

And I'm lookin' at her. She's sexy, beautiful, meanwhile only thinking about how im gonna get her outta those clothes, as
she's dressed firmly and sunny like it'll take some work and effort to remove her out of them. “Dayum (daayuum),” he said
with a 'whew under his breath, handling the mobile phone in his hand as if it were a futuristic device designed for conjuring
up your ideal woman at once at your so desire. “Imagine waking up to that in the morning,” he added. It couldn't not be
what you wanted. She was nearly perfect, as evidenced by the slight off chance that he was what she was looking for
herself. That made it the so much better.

It was very sci-fi yet elfin fantasy at the same time. Like a wonderland. It was showing how Lsd is similar to DMT, or a
testament to the idea that DMT is like a high dose (500+ micrograms) acid trip in thirty minutes to an hour.

I'm now regretting not having ate that complimentary grilled cheese panini offered up by one of the kindly ladies that was
there at the venue, which was a coffee shop this time. I had just gotten back in town and had an hour to get to the next
location, that being a club meeting of the sort I hadn't had time to make it to the past few weeks, and was excited to finally
return in this manner as the discussions can be fun. I was coming off one of the LSD binges, from San Francisco
nonetheless, ran out of pot, had to pick up more, and wanted to redose the acid – but I couldn't, because my brain was
already on it, and needed to wait a week or two to get simimlar results. So in the end, the two tabs I ate trying to bring it
back went to waste, in essense. I ate some mushrooms too, but not too many, to try and get the mix right wherein it may
have been reduced because of the acid already. It is tolerance basically. The mushrooms would eventually prove to have
kicked in.

It was one of those moments where reality was a series of events referencing each other all the way back through time.

It was almost like he and most other people in general just took ideas of reference and whatever people said or what was
going on like a pseudo divination technique to interpret what was going on in their own mind, like their own problems.
Sometimes life wasn't fair, like being a victim of the times. It was like being a colored man back then who weren't allowed
to date a white woman. You could have a broken, chipped tooth and otherwise be good while still having to suffer through
that. There were many consolations. What – you can't just grow a new tooth anymore as an adult? You have to use
technology, stem cells and lasers, to create a new one organically. Any chips stick out like a sore thumb. What to do? People
probably thought he didn't have insurance or something except it was mostly laziness and a sense of anticipation that
allowed him to rock it. Eventually, and likely sooner than later, he'd get tired of it - “the look” - and want it fixed again,
immediately asap. He must have slowly realized the impression it put on people must be strange or different. And he hadn't
thought about it like that in a long such time. He had heard he had a nice smile but took ir for what it was. Either they saw
the chips and just wanted to reassure him or they didn't see them yet when they said that, just suggesting some suspicion
that it did somewhat blend in well.

The whole thing had such a hazy dream like feel to it. Like burning out over a long roaded path. It made him either think of
ending up alone in life with no wife or kids, or eventually finding a broad, woman, or girl and settling down. It was more or
less unknown at this point. Before giving up completely he would consider contacting one of his ex's if she wasn't hooked
up by now and seeing how that went, since she was always compassionate. But even that thought somewhat brought on
some terror. It was already decided and considered that they weren't particularly compatible, the word must have some
defintion to it, so some couples must fight or aruge with any degree of intensity it was understood. Or would the perfect
couple never fight, but not quite always agree? It was always said that may be an indicator something is wrong, or that is
just impossible and disagreements must happen ocassionally. Unless you were one of those people you'd just conlcude it;
elsewise, you'd have the direct experience of of having had relationships with a pool of women and say yes, despite any
compatibility, there will be misunderstandings, confusions, or ulterior motives of some sort. People were thinking he'd end
up lonely because of his womanizing ways and that they'd have to come to an abrupt end as they caught on to what he was
doing, so that they said it wasn't fair for who he was. They'd force him to settle down with one girl, allocate resources and
spread the love.

“They could drug test you”, Aaron would say.

They saw a boy walking across the fields and walkway into toward the entrance of the building. They were sort of watching
“multiple people” go by, with the every so other one sticking out eventually, as they discussed things and got ready. And this
one was a boy one of them knew, and he looked eager to be alive as he was in his head and taking in sensory information,
presumably, from the outside exterior worldly landscape. Aaron looked at the boy a tad disapprovingly yet hopeful, having
the knowledge he wasn't such a stoner at all, with some benefit he could still be living a complete life without any of those
kinds of things, or experiences. It was about your place in life. “Aw, he -”, said Roger when he saw Aaron see the male
walking outside from their spot on the top floor and looked back as they sat across from one another.

So let me tell you a story. It all began when a boy heard about the answers being provided or given through means of using
a magic molecule. How long has this been going on, who knew, how many people? Who had already gotten their answers or
meaning? Their truth? Everyone had their own independent truths then? Was it all too good to be true?

I can remember attending BBQ's (barbecues), gatherings, and parties as a child and being given watermelon, after receiving
it resulting in various kinds of feelings about it, the adults would show me and say it's sweet, and I would take in the
meaning. I never liked watermelon, thought it tasted odd and watery. It didn't have the firm taste of, say, an apple. Were
these adults trying to implant the idea of being “sweet” or “nice” in my head? Is it any coincidence I ended up quiet, shy,
and brooding more often than not, given the mood or mindstate? That isn't particularly fair also, as I am or can be rather
sweet, of course, not to gloat or brag about that. Who am I to say. Just didn't want to leave it on a bad mark giving you guys
the impression that I wasn't 100% devoted to the notion of being a sweet little boy or kid who turned into an adult or
anything.

And on certain nights he'd just brood and reminisce over various girls and all the people he'd met. It wasn't always the most
valuable way to use some time, merely pleasuring over the nostalgia.

He woke up from a dreamless sleep.

Me and Roger were preparing for the trip of a lifetime, a roadtrip nonetheless at that.
The problem with me is that I wanted a wife. And not just a wife but 40-85 of them. I could handle it. I had what it took. I
had the work ethic.
Really even just one honey, if you could call them that, would suffice. All you need is one girl. It's all it took. What was the
deal with trying to emulate those tales of rich fat arabian men with multiple wives and marriages? That was their culture. It
wasn't always normal or accepted. Or maybe it was. The modern society and civilization is what changed it to make it more
fair and spread resources, especially scarce, around. For fairness? What went on underground still? Monogomy, polygamy:
the anarchists, rabble rousers, wanna be movers and shakers of the world, trying to change, now propose “polygamy” to be
the natural way, what we need now to reduce stress and save the planet, open expressions of love, to be the way, answer, key
– at least for now. For this transitory age. It's a hunch. There's no proof whatsoever but why not give it a try? Could it hurt,
will feelings be affected? Could the ego handle it? No way to know but to try. You can predict all you want, hypothesize,
test, sample, theorize, run simulations, explore calculations over and over. Consider variables. But once you get into it, the
groove, the motion, the waves, it's different. Yet, it is all the same. The actual experience of moving through it has a dry
tinge of a humor to it. Could make you laugh, cry, what's the difference?
So who was it going to be? Retracing steps, it could have been obvious. It could have been over already. So is this some
kind of sequel, some sort of extra chip cash in, additional detail for the addicts? Liars who say they didn't get the point
already? Just want more? Freaking addicts! On the run, on the low, peddling and scraping by on what rushes we can all get
and bargain out. He felt the world would end if he couldn't manifest himself, whether that be his destiny or self. And that
meant, merely, simply, pleasantly, perhaps, making love. It is all he wanted. To someone, anyone? Nay, it'd have to be an
efficient fit. The right fit, a good one, a perfect one, the perfect one. A fun one, a comfortable one, what have you. Who
could tell, who knew? Either way, it was that. Was it because he hadn't been laid in a while, would it be better if he was a
virgin? Of course, the key to it all is to have yourself together. “Love yourself,” as they would always say, have confidence
too. Once you do that you can do anything. You have a job, career, can take care of yourself then you're ready to love and
for a relationship but until then, you've got work to do son. That's how it went, usually. So that would be what he had to do.
All that alcohol and cigarettes were just death, accelerating the process with each inhalation, swallow, ingestion. That was
the secret. They'd affect you visually and physically yet any counterbalances will make you feel young, and really, is there
an advantage to that? You want to feel young, forever? Mentally, you could want to mature. You want to take care of
yourself, not put the strain and burden on others. Keep going. Just keep going. They'll always fight for the position you're in.
And so, they had a nice night. What was supposed to be a night out on the town turned into a night in. They couldn't move,
apparently kept changing their mind as to what to do. They ended up sorting things out, which, you have to ask, is it what
they needed?
And so, he and Roger had the conversation on why they had to take him out. They were scared of him.

Other people were there to help you. Some were damn good at doing it, their job. That's mostly what it was. People played
their role. Some have enough patience to see it through.

He thought the world revolved around him. Just kept thinking it.

A lot of that imprint shit started to get annoying, perhaps a hint that a certain stage of life was being affected. Other men or
guys there felt like a dad or some other presence, it was time for him to start being a man for himself, apparently. His own
entity, and dare say, family, to make ma and pa proud not to mention any siblings, do em proud, happy, and impressed. Did
he have to make a name for himself?
He wanted to talk to him again and hope the words they exchanged last time, especially his, didn't go in one side and out the
other. He should more or less have remembered it and gotten the picture.
It's just like “man”, and you try to keep silent. Or whenever you done it. Just imagine it's him, someone else, and a hot chick
too as far as audience goes, or whoever else is watching. And he just drops gems or knowledge. The other guy doesn't feel
like being center of attention then. So he says, breaking out of his shell, “what's wrong? What do you want, need? Some
knowledge, power...?” Trailing off, perhaps, but not done. Perplexed, stuck in a parallel conundrum paradox thinking in all
kinds of directions needing to choose one at last to roll with and begin explaining, this dauntless task set before him by
others yet he agreeing for the final bit.

I sometimes think the world is playing a trick on me or should I say, my own brain could be, in that, I actually look different
than I do an am a completely different person at that. I could be in a coma, technically, chances are, and they might be fairly
slim, yet, it sometimes, for a second or so, seems like that could be the case and people are only being nice to me because
they don't want to break the harsh news.

It's like a long night out, you pull out your phone to get someone's contact info or social media profiles and use the touch
screen to scroll all along the new software interface. You see someone's profile and can't remember if you added them or
not, just holding the phone there, or trying to remember how many days ago it was that you met and why or why not they
didn't add you back, or why if they even did. All classic twenty to thirty something life pains and anxiety questions for
them, so deep, like trying to make the world a better place or constantly solving problems, from minor ones, personal like,
to major huge Earth shattering or saving ones, like fixing world hunger and poverty of course or finding cures or ways to
mitigate diseases and illnesses such as aids or cancer or anything else.

A man name Jake sat contemplating the meaning of existence, or even more particularly the mystery that is this human life,
and death, and just the conspiracy itself of being born. He had things to do – places to be, people to see, but right now, he sat
at a desk staring hard trying to concentrate, pondering all that had happened, and what could have been different if things
went the other way. Certain things wouldn't have even happened or culminated at all. So it was all bizarre and nearly
nonsense to him. Why did people have to behave the way they did, and do stupid shit some of the time? If only it could go
back and be changed – hell, in his mind, deep down, he probably wanted to change things that went down that night. Most
other people probably did too if they could, whenever their thought processes would be along the same page or lines of
thinking.

And what was the question even? Where does it start?

This wasn't routine, not at least up until that day. Then he was exposed to new things, in his mind and brain, which he now
thought of occasionally as if scarred, perhaps even as if losing a long time friend and simply, merely, longing for the times
or grieving in some capacity with trauma. He slammed a cup of joe (a mug with the handle containing coffee) on the table.
He got up and went outside. Tired of the bout of trying to think about it too much, the answers probably being found
elsewhere, he took a breather in the fresh air outdoors, took the shoes off in order to feel the grass on feet, and the warm, hot
sun light radiating and piercing the body's flesh and skin layer of epidermis. It was enough to make you sweat and enough
to be of some contrast so you recall the cold windy harsh days enough to make you realize it then embrace the heat waves to
come on this part of the globe at this time of year. It was indeed changing into summer.

And he just solved the whole thing by considering what we had already spoken about earlier even if only to see if it could
be done. They'd try to enact a trap or prank of some sort to get the right timing and make it seem like they were using power
to make it seem you were being more predictable so you had to place safeguards protecting your bliss causing a reverse in
the system because you then knew what was coming and so to speak prevented it, making it something else and/or adding to
its definition.
Couldn't even recall anymore if there were actual blood droplets flowing from the nose or if they were colors and shapes
brought on from the mindstate. This was only after he had realized he was staring down at the air for a while. And then just
what it would have looked like to observers or fellow onlookers. Because at the end of the day I could still look in the
mirror at least and have the curves and waves from the acid look like I got hit, punched, smashed, or footed in the face and
felt it that way. They wanted the ultimate high, to feel the unfeelable. And it would all be stiff like. The real deal no
imitation, you could sell it and manufacture any kind of way you wanted. Even the feeling of being in the bathroom and
urinating draining could bring back ultra emotion. And feeling. How groovy. However you needed to go about bringing it to
fruition. And then until you could feel it's real. Are you vibing into this frequency we're beaming. Into the masses and it
could be jizzm or body convulsions and spasms at the waistband. That went on for a while.
The new software interface. It's as if they were saying how could you forget like that? All out of whack. Once it adjusts. Or
if you were going all throughout time. Whenever they were trying to vibe you into the sound.
This was all such a head ache and a mess work load of paperwork to try and fetch results for something that may not even
exist. However you wanted to hammer it home. It's like a unique groove etched into a pattern in order to get someone's
attention. The mechanism must have had various safety built in entrapments for various safety uses however it happened or
was amusing. Once you started talking more sense and making it. Something must be wrong with his head or mind. Always
having something come in through the other end. Anything to drown out the pain was it?

Well to begin with, there was a bit of an enchanted forest with seven men marching jollily towards it. And even before that
there was plenty of planning and conversation with discussion about the hosting of the event. And so yet, these men were
me, myself, and six other pals.

“Hold the fuck on. Did you hear that?”, he said as he flicked off the switch and tried to remember it.
He took it however he could. His brain was almost limited at this point to do anything about it. He needed to scrape
anything together for some results. It could take years, lifetimes, like mining for gold or crypto currency just for the pay off,
or a pay off, either way, without time, perhaps depending on luck or circumstances, he wouldn't have to take that long doing
anything there if it was hard work.

It seemed there was a grand conspiracy going on. The medicine in particular known as acid or LSD seemed to have
“psychedelic” effects (or side effects?) when administered. These effects had the tendency to broaden your horizons or
“expand your mind”. The craziest LSD trips I've seen, witnessed, and experienced suggested as much. I just had to verify
and see it for myself it seemed too good to be true and a lot of other things. Whatever role I ended up playing in it, however
I was born and thrust into this world or realm of human civilization, in this galaxy in this era and time zone, I ended up
becoming a soldier for it, damn near unwittingly although it did intrigue me, as I've said before it sounded quite interesting,
and even relatively traumatized by what I have seen when my work was nearly complete. I was still only human then.
Bound by the same laws of physics as, presumably, everyone else. We were sharing this planet and as lifeforms, biological
nonetheless, there were all sorts of shenanigans that could have been occurring, the biggest of which would have been
competition for scarce resources in essence. Gangs, nations, and societies would form little civilizations and strive to
survive.
Wait

When he got certain kinds of stoned is when the conspiratorial would enter his life and mind, through that mechanism.

little timeline – take the lsd, smoked the dmt, started to feel like an alien, feelings came flooding back, I remembered what I
was gonna go do except it was getting too late and darker now but I went to do it anway even though the timing seemed not
worth it. People walked by but seemed like automatons. Very strange game. I almost went to my destiny too but noticed the
deems starting to wear off a little so I went back almost sadly, then I didn't know what to wear or whether to ride a bike, so I
changed and then left. It basically said I was right, and I thought about it.

It was like an experiment to understand other cultures and people, purely out of fascination was the front unless there were
malicious intent behind it, actually.

It all started when it dawned on me that my crush, inevitably, the girl I thought it'd be a good idea to settle down with
eventually, was, probably, getting boned by the current guy she was with, and what's more, they lived merely down the
street so all I had to do was take a stroll down there to see. And so what if I did or didn't. Nothing would seem plausible,
imagine I had a couple chances already and missed them, it would then move on and try to present more novel possibilities
once the threshold has been passed, for better or worse whether you like it or not... Whatever comes next is more realistic or
easier to realize as far as I could tell, then it paints itself as having been the final presentation for sure, the whole time.
Something had to be done then. My mind explored the possibilities. I had only met her once, and it was before. We didn't
speak. I spoke to her but she didn't respond. It looked like she was on the edge of wanting to. I guess, she was trying to get
me to put my finger on it. Apparently she had the boyfriend already, and a newspaper magazine rolled up in her other hand
that I probably should have noticed for a complete picture. And so flash back to today, now. She could still be making love
to another man. I've had spiritual, mystical, psychedelic, nearly life changing and what they'd then call and relate to
“religious” experiences and they all point to similar lessons and/or one thing, in a nutshell, a survival of some sort. I smoked
DMT a lot. I was going to say “enough times” but it also seems like it hasn't been. I think about doing things and how I
should plan out my day. I was stoned off the acid and smoked DMT once and it told me to go. Since I was thinking about
her or trying to see her again, get her name, earn that little right, and fully remember what she looks like, for good measure
– and while on the same page, gauge her personality more to see what her reactions would be. It could look clear what's
going on in her head and mind, I'd learn her. Maybe she could learn or teach me, or each other vice versa. And so that would
be the plan. I was on LSD when I first saw her too, by the way, as a matter of fact. I'm sure it has nothing to do with it. And
her man saw me too. I am trying to figure out what his idea on this is, does he know what's going on and does he agree? I
see only a few options here, mostly, like, two. Either he wants to shoot me or he's a nicer guy in this reality and will support
her transgression, or migration. And yet, there is a chance they are still happily together. How long must they have known
each other and been together? Looks like a little more than 4 years, maybe even longer, maybe they've been friends since
kids, maybe they have kids already, maybe they've known each other for ten years, in which it'd be harder to get in. Let me
tell you though, the acid will have you seeing what a good time really is. She may have known I was as intoxicated – which
is, not that much at all if you are experienced with the LSD inebriation. This was already hours into it and I went outside to
look for some weed, so I had arrived at the station which was my destination. I greeted the people on the block and posted
with them for a little longer than I should have, I was there for 30 minutes to an hour already when she walked by on the
other side of the street and I saw her and must have looked somewhat mesmerized or something, and I can only imagine at
this point that other people saw me looking at her as well and gauged my reactions or facial features just to see, because
they must initially have been wondering who this kid was in the first place and what is it that he wanted or was doing,
besides seeking a little cannabis out and lord knows what else he may have been stoned on if at all, and yet, this was just a
boy with a fancy for psychedelic substances, in which, he was taught they were safe intoxicants for the most part, not
considering how wildly intense DMT can be. And so before that, me and the guys on the block were shootin the shit, just
kickin it for some time before she appeared for some mysterious reason. Maybe she was just taking a walk to retrieve &
fetch that newspaper to look for activities to do with her boyfriend – or husband? I don't know but there she was. And she
was approaching. We were just skating. Some other guy came over with his board too and skated for a little before leaving
finally, and we ran into him a month or two later at that. However, he left before she swung by pretty much. There was a
guy I had gotten weed from once or twice before that, and a guy who tried to sell me some before but I denied. He was mad
then but seemed more calm now, since there were about seven to ten people there at any given time, and a few paces down
the way there was the station, which various different amounts of people were boarding according to the train's schedule. I
wasn't sure when I should get out of there. I basically seemed in a more talkative or less inhibited mood than usual, not
because of the cannabis. Around that time is when she appeared finally walking up the street as if it were a runway at a
fashion show like a conveyor belt escalator churning down examples of different people and how it must have looked to
anyone else must have been different. She must have seen me from way down the place before I ever took notice of her
eventually. I saw her walking from across on the other side of the street and my facial expressions must have changed.

The biggest issue is that no one could remember everything at once during the present time so in the future they made it so
technology allowed the ability to realize many sci-fi ideas of the postmodern days. Technology was replete among the
population and all civilians so that it wasn't even funny anymore, with third world countries under control of alien overlords
to metropolises such as cities with cars and futuristic buildings that they'd see while passing by. Hypothetically, it was a
military experiment sending journalists in a warzone like Afghanistan or Iraq where guns could even blaze and wind
through a storm in the desert sand, drenched in blood or not, in the damp humid sunlight. Rifles and bayonets sticking &
poking out the sand so the edge of the visible electromagnetic radiation glinted off like a prism in certain directions based
off the refracting index of the material it was crafted out of, which, in this case, standard issue steel, or like the guns used
during the Iraq & Afghanistan wars, the M16 series, stainless steel. Writers would be sent out in addition to the fighters,
also known as soldiers. On the other side of the world at some festival such as Burning Man you'd find a similar cast of
characters and people crawling through the sand, and the desert wind blowing in the dry heat, crisp with dirt and sweat
attached to the surface of the epidermis skin layer on top scraping the edge of the microscopic gas air particles exchanging
spatial densities through the pores covered in scarves and different cloths like ribbons tied around a gift. You'd be riding
through the high desert wind with any number of things on your mind but to be found there associated with all the so
necessary things it would be as if you or someone else were looking for something particular indeed for certain with a bowl
of weed on top like a bowl of chocolate & vanilla ice cream topped with a red cherry and even golden colored nuts – hazel,
almond, walnuts, and macadamia yet not anything salty like cashews, peanuts, chest nuts, or brazilian nuts. There seemed to
be a game at play that was too good to be true at the same time.

2018 was the year on missing out of familial events and having to wait next year for it to come around again if at all, getting
old playing that old game again. I should remember a few of them.

Wow. What an asshole, he thought.

Describe outside club situation

it was nowhere near christmas but as I looked outside the neighbor's house across the street looked holiday and wintery, and
yet there were none, and the dog barked, and there were deer outside it turned out

It got to the point where anything in the immediate vicinity was a reference to what was going on in the mind. You couldn't
always get the answers you wanted but you'd get your guidance however best you could interpret it. That's what was going
on in his mind at least.

“This is what I've figured out so far, and I don't think I'm wrong. In fact, I hope it's not, only because that'd mean having to
do a revision and a reinterpretation of the details. But it seems she knows I have a thing for her, and it's an unescapable fact,
so we're currently all thinking about that. It's more like a schoolboy crush, however innocent, and I'm still the geek or nerd,
somewhat shy, quiet, and/or awkward, and they are the cooler kids, less anxious or so I'd imagine. That's the gist. They can
do anything they want and are already familiar with the art of pursuit. The gorgeous female broad encounters admirers daily
– this is no new information.

“What do you want?” she asked.

He thought for a moment before replying. “I don't want you,” he started, “to get mad at me then leave.”
He kept changing the radio station everytime a certain artist came on, as if he didn't want to hear the message he knew he
was going to start talking about after he heard something like a key phrase. As always he would inevitably begin to wonder
if he'd been duped. The whole thing seemed to make no sense whatsoever to begin with.
He remembered it. In that instant, it was light, attracting and shining onto the other, as if to make contact but to do anything
so there's nothing left, if it wanted to be noticed. It was a diamond shining bright diffracting into component pieces. So the
whole thing was elaborated upon and could have been from the inside. And to maintain positive intent? Vibrating focus
from within without. On more spiritual planes and it could be a simulation in a main frame somewhere in a facility, flying
over the desert nonetheless probably already 70's 60's Apocalypse Now warplanes and coptors over the horizon yellow
orange sunset dipped dripped over the horizon spilling over like ink blots on or off a page 3-D still 80's raze daze disco
dazzler six player X-Men arcade station peel out with some crew who were trying to be all in on it too? And then, splat, to
try and clean it up or keep it to a minimum as the shadow of the sun eclipses behind the clouds, covering the entire place in
darkness for a shade or two until it all fades and disintegrates. There's just not any residual damage that affects generations
to come inadvertently through act of war or tyranny, just raw displays of power through ectoplasm radiating neutrons
decaying for centuries to come in space.
He would have to walk over or approach her bathing in the sunlight to bask as well or not just as well to realize they were
enlightened more so the whole time observing, noticing, biding, and then just wash rinse and repeat it would seem.
There must be some stench in the air like toxic waste forming air pockets that you'd have to scrub through eventually and
get all the grease.
So you weren't just trapped in your own skull with your own unique existential-identity crisis included. So everything was
one but still separate, because all the pieces are needed to make anything else fall into place, in the first place. It would still
just be a spiral fractalling out mathematically as time went on.

I decided on two tabs. Last time four tabs to the face didn't end so well. So I decided to take it slower and only start with the
two. As it happened I got stoned and ended up taking the next two the next day for a total of four instead of all at once,
which was considerably less crazy this time around, maybe most of the mental garbage was taken care of then the first time,
and this time was also mixed with mushrooms, so the mood and tone was totally different anyway.
The last time I took four tabs I made a mistake and got locked up in the hospital, one step away from getting sent to the
loony bin again. And the first time that happened was after my initial experiments; I had hoped it wouldn't happen again.
After all that had happened it would start to seem like no one had his back. Surely some people had to have had some
people's back. But never really his. Imagine the essence of disappointment as that is realized and then it's as if a head shook
in negative reply. Everything anyone did was actually a bait to get him. It was all a trap. It could have been a bad idea to
begin with.
As always and however long it takes to kick in and you notice it, I wondered if I'd be able to feel anything. Chances were
greater if done on an empty stomach, as always, so that was a concern the whole time.
And so you don't notice it until you do.
Every now and then I get a spontaneous whiff of that DMT scent and solvents in my nostrils making me focus almost laser
sharp again and putting me right back on track. I can never unsmell it.

“What is it?”
“Worst mistake I ever made was giving it away for free. To people you don't know nonetheless.”

“He woke up in bed. Now it was that there were people after him and if he died he came back, as if waking up from a
dream.”
“Do you know the story of uncle bro, over there?”

He just couldn't quite put his finger on it. He still needed to do what he wanted to do, I suppose, just to prove he could
manifest it or that it could in general be manifested. It started to look all yellow again. So many things, so many questions,
including the so called “limitation” of the human mind-brain complex which includes memory. He started to believe he was
accessing spirits or gods and entities from the future contacting him through radio waves back to the past, or present, where
he was. It was too realistic, though, to base your life on it, or to want to. It also had a fail safe device in it.

He got up and went to the bathroom and eventually looked in the mirror, then saw the layer of dandruff over his scalp,
which was a lot more than he had presupposed, and his reaction showed as much, which was surprise. He had just showered
that morning and didn't even really put much effort in cleaning it up. The white girl he would inevitably end up with would
be clueless here like a culture shock, most likely. Except white folk sometimes did get dandruff themselves, just not as much
as dark skinned people. She'd have to deal with it.

It was a long road.

The attitude must have been one of idle wandering in a hopeless wasteland, or however they saw it. They knew there was no
hope of becoming who they want let alone being born it, so that they must wait. It took hard work as a man to become one
as much as their inherent potential could allow. Other than that life was a game for them, following the leader.

His own sister seemed in on it too. This brigade to wipe him out of existence because his apparent lack of feeling. They
were tired of pushing him to the point where they'd have to eat an insult in retaliation and get called a retard or stupid or
something. They wanted to squeeze more feeling out of him so they'd try to hurt him in a myriad of ways.
It's like the stood on the corner of a street with a dealer getting ready to buy LSD. Dealer began dishing them out.

He just scoffed a little and enjoyed the band for their remaining numbers then walked further down the place to sit in the
sun, bask, and read his book because it was from the library and due soon.

Every now and then I'd remember my friend Sal who said he was stoned for 40 hours.

There was at this point about 50/50 chance the myth or idea about humans being able to pull off a stunt to live forever is
bullshit. They'd have to use technology but we're unsure if it'll assist or destroy us in the long run. It was about the felt
presence of immediate experience, and since that, there isn't really a guarantee there'll be a next time or reincarnation
principles including karma.

When I was a boy I remember playing outside (or rather being outside), one day, and pondered the concept of God for some
reason, the idea having been introduced or exposed to me back then at a young age by those around me.

It was all just a pseudo scholarly academic pursuit in order to understand something.

“I have a title for the book I'm writing”

“What's it called?”
“Who Said it First?”
“That's a fucking stupid name to call it,” he yelled forth voraciously.
And that he did.
-----
California/Jerusalem-Irael prison paradise
A psychic attack
------
“Super Space Wizard Disco Jesus”

Since this story can hardly be told in the exact ways in which it occurred, it is hoped that the following transcription is a
worthwhile enough pursuit, and can be told or transmitted through the ages either orally or otherhow, and hope that it was
an accurate enough portrayal of what happened.
It wasn't so much that people were disappointed in a result they didn't get or want. It was like they forcing out a perfect sort
of ideal that just wasn't timed properly, and this joke or meme goes way back, to not forcing things to make it seem like it
was more natural or fairy tale like, of course, like in Holes where Stanley Yelnats the IV threw in the towel quick over
flagrant misrepresentation of what any romantic situation may have been going on in the first place. And so it wasn't true
love because he wouldn't have been ideal to her in any situation. You may not have gotten one thing but there was another,
just as mindblowing perhaps or realistic, not just vibing with your intuition on what should be there. It wasn't about taking
low doses of psychedelics and thinking you got the full experience. You can talk to two people on the street and not even get
the point or be able to figure their names without having them tell you, not to mention any tangent thoughts that may have
streamed pass on a point of contact.

The scene would open up with a man playing a video game and crashing dying, losing the the life and round resulting in a
mission failure and scheduled for replay. Then he would say, “ahhhhrg!” upon the shuttle exploding and him dying then
realizing the result of what it all was. He wore a long sleeve olive greyish t-shirt with a darker shade navy blue shorts. And
his hair was brown and curly as he sat on the sofa.
And that character seemed to appear out of thin air there so to speak. And that wasn't even the best way of translating that
sentence. He was psychedelically squeezed out, of that moment. Forget any lewd fairy tale tinsel town wedding there was
with you and your mans in gowns, crystals flinging abound, sparkly lights all twinkly and bright. That wasn't what they
ordered and they all got the point already, they seemed to know his place better than he will realize it in those moments. He
was little more than a poodle putch being put on display and welcomed, humbly accommodated merely for his presence, as
some kind of symbol of what it was. It was too late in this life to become a genius, so his smarts he already contained would
have to suffice, synthesizing creativity with a kind of ingenuity to get by. He'd have to understand that.
People hated him for a reason. There always seemed to be something he'd miss perceptually, meanwhile, the same would
have to apply to everyone else. He was preoccupied with things and ideas flowing throughout his mind. Others just couldn't
possibly be on the same level, so they'd use whatever they could against him. In these instances, it was a fixation on the
charade that you aren't “woke”, spiritually, if you don't see everything going on in the scene. This was a crude
misunderstanding of the “Sherlock Holmes” methods of deduction being considered an exact science.
And so, these archetypal moments would play out fractally through all time and dimensions of space. Every possibility
would keep happening, even if not directly experienced. It still followed the laws of physics, which still made it difficult to
actually access those dimensions, or memories, or realms of the human mind, those conceptual spaces, which remained
hidden and locked, merely hoped for that they exist and could possibly be experienced sometime in the future with more
technology or evolution & understanding of how the mind works in nature.
Had a show to go to around 7:30. The time was approaching but there were still a few things left to do; shouldn't have
stalled so much. Or procrastinated. This thing had to get going on the road. He was marking items off his checklist so as not
to disappoint certain people, potential friends or allies. You have to start somewhere.
It usually went that he was screwed from the beginning. His back up plan was a faith that other people generally were
assumed not to exactly have. If he died, someone may have wanted him out the picture. Of course, it was always possible to
generate more ideas after having been introduced to some stimuli.
He died. And in each new lifetime or birth and instance of it, there were new adaptations, either luck or all around different
learning capabilities. This would happen many times, and then the particular instance you found yourself in would be there.
Whatever niche you're in, the other people will always want to fight for the position you found yourself in, but there's no
particular indication there would be any advantages to having a new face on it. It was just too much to think about, any skill
can be learned by anyone after the fact, although, you can't even really say they could be smart enough to do it, or grasp the
concepts, then be able to put it together to apply it using the power of the mind.
Irrespective of any music or sounds that were heard, it suggested time was passing and it was getting too late, so action'd
have to be taken. He realized the clothes he was wearing weren't doing him any good now, weren't really earlier most likely,
even pushing it. It was a grey shirt with neon yellow and pink brush strokes horizontally across and navy blue jeans. Super
casual as if there were no real plans that day. But now there was. He needed to change, no more waiting or procrastinating,
all the signs were pointing toward that he should already. So he started to begin. All cues started to suggest he looked gay,
with all the bright colors, and unimpressive as it were. It started to convince him to move a little bit, instead of wasting more
time smoking.
“It's an emergency!”, he started to hear. What could it be? He started to get more efficient contact with his friends, or
partners and team. “Oh no.”
Who was it? He started to feel better again, now that purpose was becoming once again more apparent in his life, that he
was starting to pay more attention to it.
It was Jess. She was in danger. They were boys, and were going to protect the women and girls, especially from rival gangs
or groups of dudes. That Guy started to console him. Big Brother was there as well, as wise, knowing, and self sufficient.
He had to get dressed finally. “If we don't act now, Jess will be totally in danger. Close to being kidnapped, in fact, almost as
some sort of neutral “free agent”.” And so, he hurried.
While getting dressed, symbols and coincidences started to become more meaningful for him. While choosing briefs, he
picked out a pair of gray ones for a touch of it, to complement his outfit, as if you could see through it with X-Ray vision
and notice it anyway meshing with the colors of his uniform. As he was fully dressed in regular dark blue jeans and a
similar but slightly different and off colored shirt with dark brown boots he headed out the door. He then thought about the
weather and wind. “It might be cold out tonight, in the night sea breeze,” he briefly thought. “Does he have a gun?”, he
wondered.
He went back in and grabbed a red flannel on the way out. Now he had a look. It was his “gun”, symbolic. It all started to
become apparent again, flashing back, remembering what it was like. There were “enemies” or rogue people wandering all
around, shooting darts at you and whatnot. He had to make it to the venue, which luckily wasn't far away. It was Sir Henry's
big, magical, family day at the place and he just couldn't miss it, nuh uh, not for the world. He smoked more weed and
watched the colors jump out at him, trailing with streaks. Pink and bright, orange, rainbow – some “psychedelia” it was.
How would it compare to psilocybin or worse yet, DMT? All the images were in the confines of the human psychological
mind and the realms within it. He wanted to be so ready. As perfect as he could be, making no mistakes and knowing
everything. Many had known of his place. There were people already studying the subject he got interested in. He was their
gay poodle. They were waiting for him, he acting as a mascot of sorts. Being realistic, he decided to accept the proposition
all in good faith; they all understood. He'd still have more time to study and learn so for now, it was come as you are, as you
were. He basically was smart enough. Forget all the rainbows and colors, that was just a side effect. He knew the real deal.
He stepped out into the night sky. It would all begin only if he stepped out, like Grand Theft Auto.
When he went out there were signals flying all around. He descended the steps, opened the gate, and it shut with the crash,
loud clang bang as he continued walking. He could have drove, operated heavy machinery, maybe rode a bike, but this time
he was taking that stroll through the streets. The red and green streetlights stood out like a sore thumb. He looked all around
at them. People drove by in cars. The air was more mysterious and mystic. Something was different than if he was sober. All
that he saw previously played a role.
Before he even left the place he was flipping through a tome, searching for a passage that he knew, promising to show it to
someone else for some confirmation of the idea, for further study and exploration of it. It was as if he studied all day, some
kind of sage mystic in training. As he was beginning to get loaded it just became harder to focus or concentrate on this or
that, despite his efforts. Albeit, he still searched, wanting to keep the promise. He found it already days earlier but did
nothing with it, now he had to re-search under this condition. It was no issue, except that time was running short as he was
multitasking and was going to be late. The passage concerned the diet of prospective shamans or curanderos – in the
Amazon. They must follow the diet in order for best results, to obtain the clearest communication with the plants and garner
a best, most efficient relationship with them. Why was he aiming to show other people? Apparently they didn't believe him
or found his ideas or “beliefs” odd or unelievable. They couldn't comprehend why he wouldn't just be or do this or that, and
had to seemingly make everything more complicated than it really should be. He found some of it again, the written “proof”
that is, but time was short, so he put the book back on the shelf and started to head out in this slight, spaced out confusion.
At one point while still in the apartment, dressed and ready to go getting the final reports on the briefing, he was on the
ground in shock like the acid had just hit him. “Right, right,” he was thinking, responding to That Guy on what had
happened. He had been missing from the scene for a while. They were all begging for him to go and make that appearance.
It needed to be done, the wind had to hear his voice and presence – it felt he was missing for a while, it was what the world
needed. He wasn't getting his portions filled out. Jess looked scared or frightened, maybe it was all a ploy to get the boys to
respond. He rubbed his forehead, no doubt some of the Caucasians were mad at having their women messed with, without it
being them doing the messing. So they were mad or jealous. He must have been fooling around with one of the boys's sister
or friend. So, he understood the source of their anger or confusion, resources apparently being scarce and every man of
course wanting a slice of the pie. So he understood the position they were in, the danger, the excitement, the mission, the
role, the duty, the job. Thus, as he was leaving, he left, shut and locked the door, then wondered if he should grab the “gun”,
which he had just forgot, for the potential danger, no more underestimation involved. He want back and got it, then began
walking down the street.
He pulled out his phone for the directions, deciding to rely on his computer to show him the rest of the way. He already
knew where it was and how to get there, merely plotting out the quickest way and using it for other services. There was no
escape from the outside people, who'd just stare at him and see him coming from all around. Some meant well, pretty much,
others wanted to harm, and doubt, and basically destroy, for their own amusement and survival – apparently. Certain cues
started to come back. The familiar feelings and perceptual awarenesses from the last times. He started to feel it, an alter ego
of sorts – he was becoming the Jesus like Messiah figure, once again, this time to its even more full extent. It was being
channeled now, whereas before, at other times, it wasn't able to without the proper rituals and meditations. All this, while he
walked down the street. People stared, and wanted him to stare back.
He had to settle the record straight, and get the truth out there. Being the studious person he was, like a Jew, he'd study all
day. He was mostly quiet, and outspoken on occasion. People were spreading rumors, hanging out all night, while he had to
be a loner. Thus, when people noticed he wasn't there at events, or doing this or that, minds would wander and come up with
reasons for it. He didn't get a word in. People wouldn't listen. Therefore, he took to the streets, to the tress, to spread the real
world, let nature know, for the greater good in the long run. They would listen, they would know the tale. It wasn't just
people in the arena, who decided he'd be their enemy. And yet, why? What was the deal? What had he learned?
Speaking with nature is what he had learned, and was a last resort of sorts. No one would listen or care, arguably caught up
in the materialism or matrix, or capitalistic rat race.
Walking fast down the street almost in a run, he checked the clock on the phone and the map. He heard whispers and would
see the daemon-essence of some people pop up. There goes a corner. Some were good, some were bad, apparently. He saw
other “Soldiers of God”, no doubt on duty, their own assignments, recognizing him, feeding small updates on coordinates or
two. They reminded him to be alert, and stay that way, for it was getting particularly dangerous now. Hardly any more
games. Best behavior, now. He continued down the street past shops, where people were dining, and went past the place
where he got stuck at last time. He flew by it, was little concerned now.
The bandaid on his finger was bothering him, as it could still be felt, covering his wart, that may have appeared by sticking
the finger in a nasty, organic port.
He tried to focus his newfound psychic healing powers on the bandaid to remove it with his mind, instead of physically
doing so, whilst walking down the street – at night. After staring at it for a while and it not, or barely budging, he just tore it
off with his hands and fingers. Someone must have been staring, because he heard a noise, like a yell, upon performing the
action, like in doubt. They'd call him fake. But he knew the actual deal and how it worked. He had no doubt and a steady
amount of skepticism yet. So it did not bother him, for they must not have known what they were talking about in the first
place. They didn't, or couldn't, understand, perhaps just plain refused to, even subconsciously. (to be cont.)

What they did was cruise the streets and slang their trips for a nickel or dime ten cent paperback quick, all 50's like red
capped white pill bottles tipped.
“The constellations were connected through a kind of grid interlocking the light, and appeared as a kind of reverse crop
circle in the skies.”
–
Scoping out the food rations for this week, these prospective shamans or wizards discussed in finer detail to realize further
the situation they were in, not to just hopelessly speculate. There was still plenty of rice, a staple in la dieta, which could last
a week or two, not to mention the rest of the month if portioned out properly and mouths didn't beg for extra. “The only
thing we might need is more tea juice, when that runs out”, said one. “Why are you thinking about tea juice all the time?”
said two. “I'm not, and we'll need water too,” replied one, “Just trying to think beforehand.” He wasn't thinking or
fantasizing about food too much, just being more practical than it was probably worth. It was possible for them to get into
grooves wherein they enter a more fast state, disregarding food and meals in favor of work pace and errands that needed to
be run. The situation was looking grim.

-
He impacted from the punch and had to think for a second. You can usually tell if someone is about to strike because their
personage changes for a second and if you catch it, you can realize what it is, so you have to react fast. “I'll shoot you!”, RJ
said in addition to his somewhat impulsed action decision, as he tried to think about what was going on. He still didn't react
and was thinking. “And I'm a soldier of God!”, RJ tried to reason further to make himself feel less guilty, obviously guaging
the situation. This confused him even more, how would he be a “soldier of God”? Self proclaimed. Or perhaps there maybe
was something to it. Certainly these people turn to God near the end of their life or in times of despair.
Earlier in the apartment lounging working on their music project waiting to go he randomly offered RJ a book, which was
turned down. “Oh never mind, I was about to say I don't read,” he said while pacing forward and backward with no shirt on
and durag hat combo, smiling, or cheesing. He thought that was weird. Why not just accept the book anyway? It looked like
he'd enjoy it anyway. Okay, he thought in his head. Then he tossed the book back in the pile, plopping it landing with a
small joule thud.
---
I can recall my earliest memories coming to in a van with family, there were maybe six of us and for some reason I recall
my mom being there as well as father's side's parents. It was somewhere in the Bay, either San Francisco or Vallejo parked
on a hill in a street next to some place, then about two people got out and went there. It could have been Vallejo since I was
born there. I must have realized I was just born and these people were mi familia, or guardians of some sort; I was a smaller,
younger, more nascent version of they. They seemed sweet. The man driving was there, and had a Filipino aura to him,
seemed maybe concerned or pretty alright. The place may have been a hospital or some kind of registration center. I suppose
I can ask them to see if they remember.
My next earliest memories seem to involve the same cast of characters, namely that of my grandma, father's mom. So this
was more so on the Mexican-Spanish side of the family, not to mention some Cuban and Cherokee ancestry in his bloodline.
Since I was born and we grew up in Vallejo, we were there. As mentioned it was my dad's side of the family. We lived in
Vallejo for a few years while our mom and dad were still together until we moved to Sacramento, so this was then. When
we moved to Sac, we'd visit that side of the family in Vallejo every summer after school ended but this was before that. It
was just me and my grandma. We were in some kind of church or stage theater. There was an icon. It was a song we were
learning, and it all seemed dream like or cloudy. I understood this to be one of my earliest memories, I sort of remembered
coming into life and existence through birth not too long ago; my other “memories” seemed almost blank or non-existent.
Realistically, I didn't try too hard to “access” any possible hidden memories from any past lives then. The song we were
learning, that she was teaching and singing to me, was “sunshine”. This didn't really seem like something to tell people, not
just because I was too young then and couldn't necessarily, and not that it was a “private memory” or anything, it just was. It
probably wasn't actually a dream even though it seemed dreamlike, as I recall the light shining outside of this place we were
in through the windows. We must have came there in the morning a few times a week. It made me consider how special I
am. We lived in Vallejo a few years before moving to Sacramento, my mother and father having split. As I've mentioned,
we'd still visit that side of the family every summer. Once in Vallejo, we were at our grandma's house, other grandma, on
our mom's side, an apartment complex, one of the many times we were there in which I at least dreaded it because how
boring or desolate it got in that there were no videogames or TV like DBZ there. No real books to read either I suppose, so
what we did was play outside mostly all day where I learned to cartwheel in the grass. No one was really doing back flips or
somersaults back then, which were briefly discussed, but set aside to learn later, possibly with the use and aid of a
trampoline. We would play hide and seek around the entire complex, running around the trees and giant leaves and
shrubbery. Sometimes, we'd even resort to sports like football, in which our eldest brother was into. This grandma, our
mom's mom, was black or African American, with the Muslim/Islamic vibe. There may have been Bibles around her place,
but there were definitely Qur'ans. She had two more sons, Bahir & Hakim, who were my mother's brothers – uncles. I could
only imagine how they must have been raised or how it'd affect their worldview and attitude today. I think we seemed more
“spoiled” than them. Once when we were waiting outside in the parking lot on the blue park benches, we just sat and talked.
It would sometimes be hours before someone, usually or mom, got there to pick us up. It would be me, two brothers, sister,
and the two uncles there. It got to the point where we discussed biblical matters, and we would stare up into the clear blue
sky. This day, there was nary a cloud. It was more so like a debate on whether it was possible you could actually see an
angel or not. If you looked up there, you could barely see birds flying, which looked like white seagulls or doves moving
around up there in the stratosphere. Hakim said he saw an angel once. My first inclination was skepticism. I tried to recall to
any biblical training I had back then which was little to none plus with any science and rationality to see if it could be true,
but the small chance any miracle like that could happen which would be on the fringe generally outside the laws of physics
in that regard, it couldn't really be determined. Any high flying bird up there could have then just been a metaphor for an
angel or some sign of God if properly interpreted, and people get finicky about those, so it could be proven and unproven in
both ways. Although, it is generally understood that by seeing an angel it's meant an actual one in the physical and flesh,
and not it being delivered as some symbol from beyond. I just sort of thought 'Wow'. There needed to be more research I
guess. Surely the Bible text existed for a reason; it seemed more like UFOs than any actual science, though. Definitely
spiritual, mystic, and I guess religious or that requiring faith.
I remember looking at photos, and there was one of a brown lady with lighter, blonde hair, standing upon a rocky shore with
some house in the background, she wearing an orange bikini, striking a pose, smiling. I took it to be a grandma's mom or
greater. I think it was a great great grandma, I was told once, and figured we'd meet someday. There were photos of us as
kids at our dad's house in Vallejo, just visiting that side of the family in general. There was a photo of my dad on a couch at
some house, holding and examining a toy car. There was another guy there too, like his friend. They both looked Mexican,
and he wore glasses. There was another photo at the same house. Some of the other photos were from Christmas time, and
depicted us play wrestling with uncles and other family in a house. I hardly remember much but it promised good times. At
one point we were visiting our great grandmother, mom's side. It was at some lavish estate somewhere near the bay. I
remember going there for dinner where the adults mostly told stories. When they served, which I believe was some kind of
spaghetti, there was juice too. I drank it and wanted more but the great grandma stopped me, and I was lightly scolded for
my consumption. I wasn't really allowed to drink more than was rationed out. She was kind but stern, yet sweet and proud
or happy. Unfortunately, we didn't see much of her, or the extended side of the rest of that family – I believe she was
married to a white man. My mom reportedly had other brothers and cousins, one of whom's name was Majik. We only saw
pictures of him and him and them never came over for any Thanksgiving dinners, which Mom would always gloriously
cook and host. Years later I remember Great Grandma on her death bed, and we went to the hospital to visit her. Our
younger brother brought his gameboy while me and my sister didn't really bring anything as we went along. We got there
and a couple other people were there too, wherein we settled in and listened to her remembrances, recalling and delivering
oral stories. The whole time our younger brother played his gameboy which started to irk me as I couldn't help but pick up
on the notion that it could be rude, irrespective of his age or comprehension. If Mom took it away, he'd just as predictably
throw some tantrum. Besides, I wanted one too. I had to, although, presumably, play the older sibling and just listen in and
try to participate if possible so as to take some responsibility. It was the thought that counted, I supposed, even though it still
bothered me. You'd take it to mean he was too young to understand or care, just to get some extra hours of playing
videogames in. Couldn't catch a break. Alas, this had passed, and I guess we can all multitask to a degree. We all largely
remained speechless, even sister said nothing. So I thought: if I had my own gameboy or brought one what would I do?
Would I keep playing or at least try to be polite? Then there'd be two of us playing and they could think, “Oh, that's sweet.”
Otherwise, if I stopped, they could think something along the lines of “Oh, he's just trying to feign politeness. Well, it's okay
if he plays, no point in not once having realized that, you can go.” So it wasn't just capitalizing on the moment or trying to
think of things other people possibly didn't, and it did not mean that one person is nerdier or geekier than the other because
of all the games they played and more.
Years before this, I can recall another earliest memory. I remember a picture of my older brother outside a young kid, I think
three, probably somewhere in New York, seeing as how he and my sister were born there. Me and my younger brother were
born here in California, in Vallejo. I don't know where they were at the time, possibly school. I was in the room and recall
getting up. Then I left the room to approach the inner quarters of the house, or living room and kitchen areas. There I saw
my mother breastfeeding a smaller kid, inevitably our younger, youngest brother, newly born. I don't recall any
communication about it, as I was a wee lad myself. However, something was telling me to expect such a thing, and I wasn't
that surprised. Instead, I was filled with a kind of grief, or worry, at that sight. When I was growing up my older siblings
were in New York, I had only seen pictures of them, and don't recall us all being together until a little bit later on.
He looked thrilled at the prospect of sucking the breast milk, all happy and warm there. I considered what I could have
done, maybe stuck around and explored and tried to say hi. Rather, I went back in the room feeling worried, or less special,
then sunk onto the bed and took a nap, waking up later. Maybe, it wasn't ideal. It could be that this sparked a moment of
passive-aggression in people who witnessed it and were not satisfied, thus creating a grudge that would release later on in a
flurry of rage and confusing mental anguish.
One of the earliest memories I have of us all together is this. We were at a park. As a young child, I suddenly came to. I
remember being in the car and getting out of it to run around the park. It was me, three siblings, and our mother. We had a
decent, gray car that fit all of us in, it was something like a 90's Toyota. We weren't here for the longest time, sort of just to
watch the sun go down. These childhood events of mine are sometimes cloaked with a looming sense of the supernatural or
ethereal eerie feelings. Nonetheless, I remember after playing outside we went back into the car, and our Mom had
Animaniacs figurines. She gave one to my older brother, sister, and younger brother. When it was seemingly my turn I asked
for one, and wanted one to fit in. However, Mom said there were no more – she was out. I felt kind of bad, or sad. Then, I
remember looking at the dashboard to the car. It looked all weird. It seemed to be waving as if the material was melting. It
was projecting up. It looked like the fan and air filters were floating out and waving. Then, it looked like just one giant
machine of some sort. It was kind of weird. No one really said anything although it seemed like we were looking at the
same thing. I think it went back to normal. Some of those days make me feel uncomfortable for lack of answers, or what
have you. We went to Disneyland when we were kids, so have some memories like that there, but other stuff, when there's
just silence, especially when I was at a young age such as that, just seems kind of awkward. As always it's entirely possible
other parties involved just refuse to acknowledge such events or say they don't remember. Anything bordering the
supernatural like that would be placed into the category of either past lives (and younger children having more access to the
memory of them) or the psychic potential of the young child, which rapidly depletes with maturity. This in turn is related to
the “tabula rusa” model, and our current understandings of the pineal gland. In other words, the pineal is known to calcify
with age, let alone naturally – fluoride just increases it. It's possible that a sense of magic mediated by understanding science
can be affected by a calcified pineal gland. That would mean the neurotransmitters it produces responsible for such
perceptions gets reduced. While a linear model, I wonder if such a mechanism could be behind such claims. It is akin to the
intoxication model of a psychedelic experience wherein the peaks indicate the time span, as the experience noticeably
begins to subside after a while.

---
“Mad Scientist”
Growing up, I was always into science and the mysterious. I had a fascination with it as would seem to be common sense,
but don't quite recall my siblings liking it as much as me. My mom tried to make me be interested in art more.
In the 2nd grade is when I was made more aware of those concepts, such as how much progress we'd scientifically make in
the next twenty years, when I'd have been an adult then. We would have found more planets and understood what dark
energy and exotic matter were. This wasn't just because of Star Wars introducing space to us. I wondered if I'd ever be able
to be a scientist, as if it would be too hard or the job market slim. It seemed my mom did everything she could to keep me
from expressing a further interest in science, for some reason. I just took things at a more natural pace and assumed I'd study
those subjects more in high school and college, since I was just a kid then, unaware I was supposed to be a boy genius doing
that then, or something, but more so wanted to be innocent and have fun as a child, not neglecting any schoolwork or what
responsibility there could have been. Some family may have wanted me to pick up the pace. I just wanted to play video
games and watch anime all day, plus read (read the manga as well). I was also introduced to books early, and our 2 nd grade
classroom had a ton of them, just the classic ones that looked like they were from the 40's or 50's, plus some more modern
stuff. Near the end of that school year, the teacher said she was going to take most of the ones we had away, and only the
ones on the shelf would be there tomorrow. It seemed kind of weird so I left my favorite ones in the desk. Then the next day,
all the books in our desk were gone and the only ones there were the ones on the shelf, which wasn't a very entertaining
selection. We learned the difference between “your” and “you're” in that grade, and other similar concepts that I was
surprised in high school to see people still got confused over, I just then concluded they may not have been paying attention
during grammar in elementary school. I couldn't fathom how all that would affect their score on essays or other papers. My
only concern was math and how to be good at it so as not to worry about a similar thing, wherein realizing maths are usually
important in scientific fields and studies.
Around the 3rd grade was the dreaded science fair, only inducing nervousness for being unable to decide on a topic. It
couldn't have really been that hard once suitably chosen, if only it could be found. My mom ended up choosing for me,
which was a cookie baking experiment. I was blissfully unaware of how anything made me look to my peers. This was to
see if small or large cookies bake faster, and the answer was small ones. If you couldn't tell, our mom was a great cook and
likes food, so we always had home cooked meals for dinner and breakfasts, as well as things she would bake like pastries or
cupcakes, not to mention cookies. I was hoping to do some sort of standard volcano with ketchup for the lava and just figure
it out as we went on instead, but it didn't happen. Again in the 6th grade at a different school we had to do some individual
presentation and I just wasn't exactly sure. People always said I was smart, bright, or capable, let alone brilliant, but I was
always lazy too, or barely motivated. I procrastinated until the last moment. My mom ended up doing most of the
presentation with me, which had to be done on a white board and include an example if it was a how to variety. You could
either do a how to or a different presentation, like a teach-lecture demonstration but we went with the how to, which was
how to bake blueberry muffin bars. She made them and we helped, then I brought a load of them to class the next day to
share, and they said they were good, then the teacher ate the rest of them, much to my dismay. They said the presentation
was good. Then, the teacher asked if I really did it, not to mention baked the treats myself, then I said yes. And that was
pretty much the end of it, again, everyone probably thought it was all weird and unlike me or who I should be, yet it stuck. I
was more of a quiet kid into comic books or anime. Something probably seemed off; I don't know.
Around the 3rd grade is when the internet started to become widely available for the public in homes, and we got our AOL.
At first only our step-dad was mainly allowed to use it but eventually we could, and discovered chat rooms. The setup was
in the garage like room and our older brother said he could see our stepdad looking at porn through the glass window's
blinds. I tried to look through but couldn't see it, then thought it could have been one of his jokes.
In highschool, there was the dreaded senior project to look forward to. I got taken out of highschool after freshman year for
something rather silly. Because of this, I had to finish up in homeschool or independent study. My parents tried to find
another high school to go to and gave me choices but I wanted to go the same one to see everyone again. Growing, we
constantly moved around so rarely attended the same school two years in a row, so always had to make new friends. This
was just another example of that, so we'd be attending a different school again. What was different about this time is that, 1)
cell phones were becoming more available, plus a myspace profile, so there were more ways of keeping in touch with
people. 2) This was after middle school, in which all my friends went to Albert Einstein, where my two older siblings went
and I was supposed to go following their footsteps, but we moved, and I had to go to a different one. So when high school
rolled around I saw all my friends from 5th and 6th grade again after a long time, except it all changed. They smoked weed
and I hadn't. I was more or less a loser or nerd/geek while they were becoming more cool, I was pretty much the same
person from 6th grade. It is hard to say how I would have turned out otherwise. I continued denying weed until college,
although I had no real problem with people smoking it and enjoyed pop culture media references to it, like silly stoner
buddy comedies, although I still saw myself as a “good boy” who didn't need drugs, so I wasn't much bothered by this in
that regard.
For one of the assignments there was a research paper. I was excited for this because finally I'd be able to do some research
on a topic of my own choosing that'd allow me to manifest part of myself or personality in a more authentic fashion, instead
of just doing homework teachers gave us. I chose the topic of wormholes, which was something I heard were real a while
ago and not just science fiction. I still had to read the papers though, which were somewhat above my level at being college
level, whereas at the time I was in highschool, homeschooled nonetheless. I never had much problem with math growing up
throughout school even in highschool freshman year, but it still wasn't my strongest suit. There wasn't a lot of info or
sources out there at the time, most were websites which don't count as sources. My best bet was to go to a library and see
what physics books could work for it. Any popular Stephen Hawking science book wouldn't have done it, as they are mostly
for the consumer. My mom was basically helping me with it. She must have saw the effort it would take. What she did, is
change the topic into something she was into instead, something more mental health related. She took a topic on a paper she
did in college and gave it to me, then made it seem like I researched it all to minimize the workload. This wasn't in line with
my character or beliefs, so it wasn't me being myself. I'm not sure how negative this can be considered. The teacher wasn't
so impressed with the topic; wormholes in outerspace seemed cooler.
My sister is a scientist, or should I say, an employed one, thus proving it's not what you know it's who you know; etc. I can't
recall her being into science at all when we were kids growing up and yet, she was “allowed” to major in science and I
wasn't. Not one iota of a memory for her being interested in science, it must mostly be a fad that happened after high school;
once again, I think they just were influenced by me, as family, or basically took aspects of my personality for themselves.
Whatever it is, there are certain things they just can't copy off me, or deny. So there is a limit to what they'll absorb.
In highschool 9th grade freshman year, during the last semester I was taking this science class, which was like a general
science class. We learned about methods and how to read, but not really any actual topics. I sometimes didn't take the class
serious because the teacher was notorious for being not so much a slacker himself but rather lenient. Although, not too
lenient. Once, I slacked on an assignment we were doing then when he checked it, saw some of the answers that I didn't put
a lot of time into trying to find, then reprimanded me and my efforts, then I had to go back to my desk and do it. I cant
imagine the impression this must of made on my fellow classmates who were there to witness it, it was a while ago, so I
can't really recall too many of their feelings then. Surely only some amount of humour was involved.
All throughout this whole time I dreaded what the senior project would be or make of me. I thought about my older brother
and how he had to deal with it first. I can recall in the third grade, when he was in sixth, his class had to do a report on polio,
and it had to be like three pages. It didn't seem that hard, but I felt for him, and the foresight. I'd have to fork over some
effort anyway. “This girl in my class has a sister named Alexis,” I can recall him saying, when I was in 2 nd grade and he in
5th. “We joke around sometimes and say 'Hey, I'm going to buy you a Lexus' to her,” he concluded. That pun/story stuck
with me a while. I knew it was joke because it was generally highly unlikely any kid like that would buy a classmate a
luxury car. I then learned Lexuses were pretty decent. In the third grade there was a girl named Alexis in my class but I
knew it wasn't the girl in my brother's class's sister, not only because we moved and this was a different school, but just that
it would have been rather unlikely. She was brown, looked half black half white, although not too black. She was
moderately attractive, reminded me of my sister somewhat (which is not to say I find my own sister attractive in that
manner, and I don't condone incest. In fact, that was one reason why I didn't put a lot of effort or stock in advancing with
her, because of the image that would be portrayed. Later on in middle school there was a girl named April that found me
worthy of hooking up with, although I didn't, because she reminded me too much of my sister), but altogether not bad, and
had long curly hair. We sat at the same table with another kid named Tim (white boy) and a white girl. Alexis was friends
with the token black girl in the class, “Brishay”. I initially took a liking to Alexis, for it seemed we could relate on some
level, but I observed how it'd play out. There was a sporty, “military” like white guy named Garrett in the class, who had a
funny last name, and would go on to date Brishay, while his friend Matt ultimately dated Alexis not too long after we first
spoke. Ultimately, I didn't find her that attractive after a while and didn't really care, apparently. At the tables during class
she said her cousin knows magic, and can make red stoplights turn green when in cars waiting. I was skeptical and thought
of ways it could be true knowing chances were slim. Maybe there was an average time the lights wait and he just counts
then announces it, or maybe he really does snap his fingers and it changes. Maybe you could look up each street's light
properties somewhere in the books, and just know, or maybe some adult told him about the sensors and he used that
knowledge to manipulate it so it seemed like he could know. I told her to bring him to school one day so he can prove it to
me, because I was a skeptic. That ended up being the joke, I didn't necessarily want to learn magic myself, or nary
considered the notion she was subtly referring to me, calling me her 'cousin', and that through acts of observation,
determined that I knew something interesting such as magic or the like. If so, this power would remain sealed and untapped
yet even more. I wasn't so much interested in cheap parlor tricks. The cutest girl in the class was probably Christina at this
time, a latina or Mexican/Spanish girl. She had a small amount of freckles and dyed blonde hair. My sister once said “she's a
bitch”, near the end of our tenure there, for reasons I started to wonder about. She seemed friendly or well meaning enough,
where the guy has to approach the girl first, but we didn't interact a lot throughout my family's two years at that school. I
chalk it up to being shy, socially awkward, or a nerd/geek wherein these girls were too pretty or good for me. There was also
“Dina”, a European girl, Russian or Ukrainian, who was really shy and quiet, like me. However, we didn't talk much or
apparently get along for reasons I saw as us being too similar. We still could have got along, but it looked kind of awkward.
It would have been better if I could have been forced out my shell more, not that that was too demanding or much to ask for.
Once me and my sister were walking in the morning and she was reading some joke or riddle book out loud to me wherein
she asked, “What are you, a pig or a chicken?” Dina walked by then, we were all just waiting for that 8 A.M. bell for class
to start. She overheard, and actually replied “pig” with a smile on her face, and it was interesting to learn that she liked that.
We kept walking though, unsure of how to include her in this at all if at all possible. She was too quiet and shy as was I so it
was hard to talk to her but I guess we could have got along. Sometime later, we got a new kid in the class, a girl, white,
named Shannon, who I basically had an instant crush on, and she ended up sitting across from me at the table (this was a
different table). She was skinny and exercised a more goth demeanor. She had a glare where she'd squint her eyes with some
kind of suspicion. She ended being the other Matt's girlfriend, who was the son of the janitor there. Some of the other
people had girl or boyfriend's then, but not really me or any of the people I hung out with. As I just said I had crushes but
nothing happened. In the 4th grade Robert punched me at the end of recess for some reason, I guess just a general bully
picking out victims. It didn't hurt that much but I wanted to hit him back, didn't really see any openings and just hoped I'd
get him later. He also stole my bike in the 3rd grade with David. I'm guessing I should have punched him back or attacked. I
don't think anyone knew of my crushes besides on Shannon, that may have been the most obvious, and I'm also guessing my
huge sexual affection for the other 4th grade teacher Ms or Mrs. Donaldson was somewhat glaringly obvious. It had to have
been. Then there was a new girl halfway through the 4th grade named Kayla I think, who was pretty cute I guess. She was
like Italian. Christina G. was a, or the, real girl who could have had a crush on me, so to speak, she was cool, and there since
day 1. I may have made her shy. She always lingered on in the back of my mind, and most others' too. I can't recall her
having a boyfriend during our two years there. Once during lunch I sat next to Garrett, and some others, probably Ronald,
Dennis, and Thomas. Christina sat across from me, although I do not remember who she was with. Like I said she was cool,
and had friends, so she was popular – didn't really hang with Alexis or Brishay I don't think. I saw her as basically out of my
league. Anyway, once during this lunch, in the cafeteria, we had cheese pizza. The usual milk for drink too. It was the
general thing. Flies buzzed, and one landed on her pizza, then she merely reacted, sucked her teeth, furled her brow, then
shooed it away, somewhat mad. I asked her if it landed on her pizza, because it could have just been flying around, and I
was talking with the boys, not necessarily paying attention to her. Then she said yes. Then I said, “That means it pooped on
it! My brother said whenever a fly lands, it either poops or vomits.” It maybe didn't help much at all, but that was the joke. I
didn't be the good guy or white knight and help her get a new pizza or anything. She didn't look too interested in it or
hungry – or maybe she was. Anyway years later, like just now in 2017-2018, I considered the possibility that maybe she had
a crush on me and I just didn't realize. So no one ever taught me how to talk to girls. Growing up with a single mom and no
father figure, she once tried, but her tips weren't that helpful I guess. Our younger brother went there too, and was in Ms.
Lobo's class for the first grade. He ran away from class on the first day and they had to find him. We all walked home
together and took the bus sometimes too. So they all knew us as that. We hung out with our own friends or circles during
recess. Our sister had a crush on our neighbor's son Simon, who went to the same school, his brother Steven was in my
classes. They had two older brothers too who didn't go to Village, but rather, Don Julio, where my older brother was
scheduled and prepared to go next year. It had a reputation for being a “bad” school. I was pretty much obsessed with
Dragon Ball Z and Japan here, with some Pokemon, which was also popular among schoolkids. Magic the Gathering was
being learned too, but I didn't bother with it then. I tried to learn Japanese and remember going to the library to get books on
Japan; I just wanted to know more about DBZ. Mom got me a subscription to Beckett's Unofficial DBZ magazine and I
tried to learn how to draw and we started making our own comics and illustrated sketchpads. We also got some other books
such as Marvel Guides, like The Amazing Spider-Man Guide that I read a lot of, and added additional facilitation to reading
the Marvel (and DC) characters' own comic magazines. I liked the sci-fi technological aspect of DBZ, how some of it was
futuristic. We didn't learn that much science during those grade years at the school, besides computer lab class. There, we
learned computers. This was around the time they were becoming widely available in homes with the internet, usually AOL,
not ARPANET anymore, not dissimilar to how TV and colored television sets started to become available for households in
the 40's and 50's, and how it was rare for homes to have more than one. The teacher was a middle aged Russian or European
foreign woman, the kind I am attracted to. She didn't really speak much. She had neck length dark, black hair with lighter
eyes and bigger thighs. We just sat on the computers and played those classic math games all day. There was also the pinball
and the one where you were the dog going around solving problems, that was kind of like Toejam & Earl. There was also
that other math game where you were in like a town. My older brother and I used to talk about them at home sometimes, so
he played the same ones there, just at higher levels. I sat next to Ronald in the class, who was a practitioner of Tae Kwon
Do. I wanted to sign up for martial arts to like DBZ but never really did; Ronald liked DBZ too. I think we slacked off too
much because I believe the teachers moved me, and I had to sit somewhere else, on the other side of the room, facing the
opposite side. Once, during some particular activity during that computer class, he tried to spell “cowboy” but kept putting
“coyboy” and pronouncing it cowboy while I couldn't help but read it as coyboy while saying it in my head. I never told him
there should be a 'w' there even though I knew. I wondered if he was testing me to see if it was obvious. I guess we were
causing a racket because I don't remember sitting next to him there again. This may have even been in the 4th grade but I
don't think it was. There was also a girl named Kassady in my 3rd grade class. She was white, looked Canadian. She had
dark brown hair and dark eyes that always looked shut like an Asian's. She was more so a quiet type and wore stuff like
purple clothes. I suppose she was cute but we didn't speak much because it was kind of like the situation with Dina, except
Kassady seemed more, I don't know, like a friend or sister or something. When school ended, I saw her out in public once.
My mom worked at a store next to a 7-11 and Long John Silver's and I was walking there, in the local neighborhood, when I
saw her, entering the building, I believe. I was walking down the street approaching and thought about going in there to say
hi and catch up seeing as how we'd never see each other again, but didn't because I was too shy and socially awkward,
which, I suppose that would have been the normal thing to do. She looked kind of mad or with pent up anger, like she was
lost in thought or something.
For my senior project, I had to consult with one of the math teachers at the independent study campus, which was the asian
guy. He was Chinese. He would say you have to do it in something you're interest in. After the whole wormhole fiasco, the
first thing I thought of was drawing a comic book related. At the time I was still into that, and willing to put more effort into
drawing and art. I was still into science and reading about it on my freetime, getting input of it where I can, because I still
wasn't able to take physics or chemistry in high school. Instead, I just took the math, geometry, and the appropriate level of
algebra. At first I considered drawing an original comic book, which could require lots of preparation in advance and
seemed only a tad unrealistic for the time frame. Then I thought maybe I could just draw a comic book cover, professional
style. I brought these ideas to the teacher but he said no. It wasn't enough. He kept saying it had to be something I'm
interested in, even career wise. I was interested in that, but comic books can sometimes be group, team efforts, maybe what
I would or was capable of producing wouldn't be enough for a senior project. My mom eventually intervened and lead me to
a direction. The other option for senior project was to do a minimum amount of community service. My mom has always
been obsessed with “mental health” and “homeless” or “crazy people”, so she made me do something on that. So what
happened was that I ended up doing tons of community service hours at Loaves & Fishes, a faith based homeless soup
center. There was some food prep, dish washing, and serving that, not only can double as a senior project, but can be put on
a resume for jobs. I didn't really meet anyone there despite my efforts and what I would have hoped. Each week, there could
be different people there, and groups volunteering. Once, this one church group was there with a team of people. There was
a relatively pretty white girl there with reddish hair, and on the more plump side, with rounder cheeks too with the smile.
She just stared though whenever we'd cross paths as if in anticipation of me saying or doing something first, alas, I never
really did. This was also a more black location of Loaves & Fishes, with blacks helping and one of them was a lady who
tried to mentor me. She basically tried to make it seem I shouldn't be interested in her (the white girl) as if the approach was
all wrong and that I'd need someone else instead, of course, this approach always reeked of jealousy or selfishness to me, or
some kind of emotion like that, and reminded me of something my mom would sometimes do, so I really didn't pay full
attention to her or that kind of thing, either way, I didn't get to know that white girl a little more and that was the only time
she was there, so there was no next time. I didn't make a lot of friends there or do anything. Most of the conversations with
adults were “What do you want to be when you grow up” or, “What school do you want to go to?”, which basically got old
after a while and I started to run out of answers so there really wasn't much to do but focus on the work. Once when we
were food prepping, chopping onions, tomatoes, and other vegetables, there were some other kids there from some high
school with a cooler demeanor, a more punk/gothic scene vibe. They sat at a table, but we couldn't talk much. I don't
remember there being any cute girls there, if there were, we didn't talk. I kept looking up at a vent AC system hanging off
the ceiling. One of the boys, the bigger, blonde one with glasses, not the darker one, said “Trent Reznor” at some point,
because the brand name on the piece of machinery was “Reznor”. His friend the other guy didn't say anything in reply.
Years later I returned, and skated there, to try and get a job by applying or seeking more volunteer service at least in order to
put something on my resume and get references. There were some other people there for the orientation but it didn't turn out
much, a Mexican guy there wearing a football jersey and glasses was there and seemed mad at me by the way he was
talking. He just got out of jail if I recall and was there to give back to the communities. It all suggested it may not have been
the right place so I left, not before thinking of busting a trick off the ledge of the warehouse there. I went to campus and saw
one of the guys that was there, an Asian/Indian?Native American looking male with black hair wearing a black button up
shirt. When there, he said all he wanted to do was help the homeless, and that his girlfriend cheated or broke up with him.
When I saw him on campus I was skating through, unsure if he wanted to talk or hang out or if he needed to be there too for
a class, but that was the last I ever saw of him.

----
Bonus essay
And it wasn't for any honey nut cheerios either. You step outside October night one approaching Hallow's Eve on a fall brisk
jaunt to finally just laugh at the absurdity of it all, stepping on brown leaves and crunching them like cockroaches or better
yet, Snickers bars wrappers that would have been tossed after being discarded, with pumpkins that have faces on it, a
Jeckyllantern, because even stereotypically it would have to jump out at you that way too. If you smoke DMT, there will be
elves or aliens. Psilocybin, the active ingredient in hallucinogenic mushrooms, is similar to DMT, except with an oxygen
atom on the 4 carbon, so it lasts longer and is active orally, or is basically the according dose of DMT spread out over the
timespan. LSD is another indole based, serotinergic compound that can activate the same receptors in the brain that DMT
does except it also lasts longer because of the additional two carbon rings stacked on top it and it's diethylamide instead of
dimethyltryptamine. They both can flood the brain's dopamine response centers as well, leading to feelings of joy, euphoria,
or sedateness as a result of increasing the patient's mood and reward circuitry in the brain.
Psilocybin also increases visual acuity in the organism. When you smoke weed, it introduces your body and brain-mind
complex to new sensations previously unimagined if not unexperienced yet, as a mild psychedelic. The effects are stronger
when you first try it, then you develop a tolerance with frequent use until effects diminish. You usually would require the
administration of double the amount you took in order to start feeling or noticing threshold effects again, although with
other routes of administration such as edibles it makes it so it's more potent so you'd get way higher easier, through certain
methods such as crystallizing the active cannabinoids into an oily, waxy like substance that'd hypothetically be more
concentrated with the active ingredients. When you eat the cannabis, it gets processed through your gut which produces a
different metabolite altogether than you get from smoking it and having it pass the blood brain barrier alone, which is 11-
hydroxy-tetrahydrocannabinol, and causes a way more inebriating experience.
It's getting way to where you'd find it how it was like in the 70's, channeling it, with glowing neon lights out on the city
streets.
DMT only lasts five minutes because it's an endogenously made compound that the body recognizes upon ingestion,
immediately targeting and destroying it. Using another seed, Harmala peregrina, or any MAOI containing plant such as
Banisteriopsis caapi you can shut down the body's ability to metabolize the DMT by inhibiting the enzyme responsible for
the inactivation of tryptamine based monoamine compounds. That is basically the ayahuasca tea, which is an amazonian
brew that's been in use since thousands of years ago. You take DMT containing plants and leaves, as well as MAOI
containing ones, then combine them through various processes, each preparer having his own method and techniques. It
would take the form of soaking the leaves in heated water to distill any isolates, taking hours, then adding it to any residual
compounds grinded out of the MAOI containing Banisteropsis caapi or harmala alkaloid containing seeds. That alone will
have effects, and will make the DMT orally active and available. You can either combine them at once, or take the MAOIs
first, waiting 30 minutes, then after it sets in, either eat the DMT, or smoke it then – and this is after deciding not to drink it
only as a tea. If you drink the tea, the ayahuasca brew, it's both ingredients combined, each with their own effects, so you
get the total, complementary, effect. Then and only then, will you have enough time to see “the light” allowed by this new
temporary mind state. Instead of five minutes like just smoked DMT, it could be anywhere from 45 minutes to four to six
hours. Ayahuasca has a more “jungle feel” to it than does just pure DMT alone, so some say it doesn't “go as deep” as a
breakthrough DMT psychedelic experience. In such cases, the DMT experience then will be more like a mushroom trip,
except slightly different – or vice versa. In similar instances your LSD trip might be like DMT except spread out over at
least twelve hours, although your mileage may vary. Some reports have suggested even that taking a high enough dose of
acid can leave you stoned for a period of more than 70+ hours. For comparison, take weed, which, as a mild psychedelic,
only lasts 2-4 hours when smoked and develops a tolerance highly fast, reducing enjoyment and making it dull quick.
Cannabis is known as a “mild psychedelic” in that its active ingredient content is of a more “oily” crystalline character than
actual crystal, liquid or solid otherwise. Its terpenes and trichomes are just carbon atoms melted together with some oxygen,
made possible by the particular double bonds positioned. THC (or, “delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol”) is usually only active if
combusted and struck with a flame. Then the smoke vapor can be absorbed through the lungs and blood stream almost
immediately impacting the blood brain barrier. It's also fat soluble meaning its active content can be melted down into a
fatty like substance such as butter then be used to bake goods.

And the birds decided that they would all be free. It wanted to be splattered with fruit on the side in the morning or upon
command. And oh my god I have just been abducted by fairies and aliens the plain alike or galore, it was times four. The
Birds were like fruit.

In some cultures (Welsh, more Celtic than Saxon, “generally English”, near the Gower peninsula) fairies may be known as
Verry Volk instead of Tylwyth Teg. Verry volk in English sounds like “very folk” or “very volk” (volke in Russian
languanges meaning “wolf”). As everyone knows Tylwyth Teg and faerie translates to 'the good people' or 'the good folk',
which apparently contains an intrinsic sarcastic tinge to its sound.
The fact of the matter is, there is some indication that no one knows whether fairy have actually existed, or still do and fled
to some other realm long ago as known in the lore, and could have always been there in the literature and testimony we have
and rely on today. In some manners of the interpretation they could be a reflection of memory and human potential, based
on the fractal scale. It wouldn't just be a projection, of, say, consciousness, from the mind-brain complex. If you were sitting
on a bench, looking down, you couldn't see up or what was going on despite catching some of it in your peripheral and other
senses (aural) to hear the various sounds, children playing, animals moving, machines in operation – you'd piece together an
image. Knowing the existing fairy lore contains tropes such as it being hard to remember or a rare event, you could see how
that'd be one source of how it started or began to be noticed. It would be the wishes of the other people. They'd want your
attention, and since it technically couldn't be given without some technology available at the time. It would then be
deposited in the mind as some extra potential, fairy tales to be told of what happened.
The term verry volk makes it sound like they are extreme, as in real, it is what it is, no joke – the actual thing, in this reality
at least. It should all be deliberate based on the history of poetry and oral myth traditionally passed down non written.
'For, they are trying to extricate me from existence, as if through some kind of purge.
As in, murder, let alone murder by suicide to make it look guilt free, free of any intermingling – no suspect, why would
anyone want to do that to themselves?
The perfect crime, logically found upon its foundation.
Accuse me of being autistic, slow, on the spectrum, limited ability to understand human emotion – the impostor syndrome.
Based on probable comments of mine that I've made, potentially in sarcasm, that were purposefully misconstrued to justify
continued behavior and courses of action. Make it look like he (as in me) was crazy, and had been, for a while. No
'”trigger” or breaking point in which the latent schizophrenia was released and finally took hold after years speculating
whether it lay dormant in that individual or not.
Such utter ridiculousness. Whether the truth always gets out or not is something that they always say too. And if it even
makes an experiential difference in the lives of those directly involved should be a matter of concern for that's where it'd
really matter in all fairness. Because that's what it had been all about – or has it not? Was it something else?

People always act like they know something, so for a long time I'd interact somewhat halfway so they could figure out the
rest like they like to do but I don't communicate like that anymore because it did little good and just advanced their agenda
more in their own interest by either putting words in my mouth, or just going with their preference, which was usually just
the opposite of whatever something was. So I think it says a lot about human willpower.

If I had to make my case now, it would be the simple one of this research. You are then presuming my credibility or
education as a scientist, and experience as a historian. I set out to write my book but most of the information got leaked
through provoked social media posts on either twitter or similar platforms, ideas that I was saving to write about, so there
isn't much to actually say anymore if you've been reading or keeping up with that.

It was also during this time it felt like people kept stealing my ideas or information, through the leaking of posts on social
media via being forced and raped out, and apparently acting upon the provocation. It was as if they were being influenced
and found what I put out there helpful for the improvement of their own lives.

Certain ideas and concepts only make more sense during certain times, and I don't always write them down then. I take my
memory for granted or overestimate it in a way, saying I'll remember it or most of it later, yet only some is clear when time
has passed. Nonetheless, I feel most topics or information is inherently contained, or only gets excited whenever it does, and
certain experiences facilitate the memory or entertaining of the ideas.

It is that I was fascinated with the notion of fairies, and wanted to see if they were real. The is some connection with the
Celtic faiths such as Cornish people and around key locations of the United Kingdom, as is indicated in all the traditional
fairy tales or stories, that there might be increased sightings of them still in those areas, compared to anywhere else less
associated with them and that whole concept. A similar idea could be aliens or UFOs.

It is also that, during my experience in life in general, I had only ever really seen a fairy or elf, let alone aliens, during key
psychedelic experiences, and not necessarily while sober. In all the testimony of people reporting fairy sightings or fairy
rings, they are usually sober. There's no mention of inebriation. With me, at least, and it could be different for each person,
I've only seen that kind of thing under the influence of psychedelics. Any classic example never mentions them, besides the
occasional toadstool, perhaps, even if you want to use Alice in Wonderland as a reference.

That was my main hypothesis. Anything else is sort of extra. I used DMT and mushrooms (psilocybin) initially, before
trying out more acid (LSD). One of the main goals had been ayahuasca, which I had never used yet even til this day, and
mescaline/peyote sounded interesting too.

It has been said that some believe DMT to be the “water spirit”, or one assoicated with water, and generally, it may be hard
in this day and age to find something that isn't related to it, not just referencing it in someway, rather, it might be harder to
realize something that's directly correlated with its spirit. Water, throughout history and in man's consciousness symbolism,
water has represented concepts such as rebirth and unconsciousness, these aspects of life and personality, in the mind, can
end up being related to creativity, not just in the arts, but overall problem solving. As such, characteristics of water can re-
present the infinite, maybe a void or matrix of infinity, and not necessarily the void in and of itself. In other words, this can
allow DMT to be related to water in one way, so as within its molecule or the very being of the molecule itself rests the
spirit of water ladies and sprites, occurrences dating back to the most ancient of Irish times in bogs and swamp settings.
Representing a force of chaos, its configuration can approach the infinite. The psychedelic experience of DMT, insofar as it
remains a perplexing mystery, and since its history and introduction an enigma, true to its reputation, and name, can seem
infinite, not just in its potential, but in what it induces. Psilocybin and LSD operate on similar mechanisms, or neural
pathways in the brain, as DMT to bring on its onset, although they are all unique in psychoactivity, bonding differently in
the brain's receptorome, each molecule determined by its shape fitting into respective sites mapped on the brain, as each of
the tryptamine, or tryptophan derived, psychoactive, psychedelic molecules (drugs) are related to serotonin, being similar
(serotonin is 5-hydroxytryptamine), when binding to sites in the 5-HT2A or C receptoromes, release serotonin in ways not
the same that serotonin is routinely released then metabolized in vivo. More accurately, given the similarity of the molecule
to serotonin, the bind where serotonin does in the brain, except their unique shapes give them additional attributes, giving
rise to the phrase “they imitate or mimic serotonin”, so understanding that allows you to see how that term was coined. In
other words, if a simplistic picture of life were painted using these concepts, it might run thus: Through the annals of
science it is sometimes said that certainty isn't always immediately obtained, such as the introduction of germ theory,
discovery of penicillin, the further development of atomic sciences, and the Earth centered solar system model being
replaced by the Galilean, sun centered model. Such things aren't always, not only readily accepted, but not proven, proof
being something people require to believe, and sometimes the scientific proofs come later, in itself or some form, with
experiments and any verification. One example of this is the Michelson-Morely experiment of 1915, which took place in
North America and confirmed General Relativity (Special Relativity was released for peer review in 1905).

This is also a work exploring the “science of true poetry”, or the historical grammar of poetic myth, and its relation to the
world today and any other prospects. The idea to explore these concepts and ideas are is not so much a sequel to any
previous collections, if any, that I have written, let alone published. Instead, it is more of an examination on things, recent
and ancient history, as well as the current times and how it alters the future, or affects it, usually within the realms of
determinism and a minimal amount of free will.

Pretty soon, it would seem, people would start denying their name, if asked, thus considering the question, “Who even are
you?” It isn't exactly taught in school how history changes are experienced, things like technology revolutions or changes in
social attitudes. Correlation doesn't equal causation, which is something that must be remembered when searching for the
true cause of a thing, if coincidences may be flourishing or abound, not every single thing would be the cause of something
else, or its source, although, it still could be a source nonetheless.

In fact, the pattern became clear quite quick enough. There had been not only book burnings in the past, but also libraries
torn asunder, erasing years worth of ancient history and valuable knowledge, things that could be lost to civilization and
humanity. The fact that the same seems close to happening now, should be the first clue. Not everyone likes reading books,
or spending hours analyzing text, or just looking at it and listening to their thoughts or that voice in their head. Most people
can struggle throughout school, particularly the early years, not exclusively with math, but the usual language arts they
teach in school, particularly, reading, and possibly writing. In short, people don't like to read, as can be ascertained, or
hypothesized, through observation or personal testimony attesting to experiences or encounters with people falling under
that definition. However, some people do like to read, or at least claim as much, something that can be distinguished from
reading necessary things, such as instructions, or reading through a textbook or tomes such as the Bible. No, parsing text,
then must not be the implicit motive. There must be some kind of love of storytelling, or the acts of settling down to read a
book, a desire to learn, not particularly history, but things, maybe all in the act of self improvement, to learn anything,
although, I wouldn't suggest that a drive to seek out new words is the key, even though that is considered learning. With that
comes seeking out books, or any guides, while gurus and guruism might be popular, they aren't always recommended and
began declining in popularity relatively quickly. While they still exist and may be used, they can't be relied on, as it's a
reflection more of that person practicing it for their own understanding, and any pupils are there to learn just as well or
express any self in meditation supporting environments. It can be said that stories in books are not the most accurate
depiction of reality – a feat that goes to reality itself.

It's quite simple. In this work, I aim to express or explain my viewpoints and ideas, some of which may seem outlandish at
first. This is because I come from a background of science, logic and rationality, understanding philosophy and other fields
like psychology, which supplements my scientific training in subjects such as (classical) physics. While some things may
sound like pseudoscience or even myth, you will see that disbelief, for instance, is just caused by a lack of technological
understanding of the time. Sometimes, there are effects to actions, in one sense, can be said to be that each action has an
equal and opposite reaction, again, one of those things to remember or keep in mind. That could be said to be a fact of life or
nature, or any aethersphere it may be comprised in. It could also be seen in surprises in scientific discovery and
breakthrough. I would then go on to say or suggest that the very nature of this work results in not just unintended side
effects or consequences, or unwanted things, not just responsibility in having to face things like criticism and critics, or
anything of the like on either end of the good or bad. In other words, the nature of print can sometimes make one think
about information and what someone would know at the time. People's expectations make them feel that they “deserve”
certain things, as if everyone can be said to have particular birthrights. If something isn't in a book by the person who wrote
it or it isn't evidenced that they said or expressed knowledge of something, people can think they don't know it, and feel
entitled to take such a route because it reduces someone's value, which suggests that there's a goal people are motivated to
pursue. While all of this is not exactly true, it's just a convenient way of feeling about a subject that other people adopt so
they can feel better or more comfortable, with confidence for the bright future, and a renewed sense of purpose. In short it
could be said that what someone writes or even what a person could write, gives other people a glimpse into that person's
mind. However, it is not and has never been assumed that any person could automatically grasp every bit of information in a
stimulus. This, gauges and can even assume a person's mental faculties and habits, let alone IQ. It can be an uncomfortable
topic. If prolonged, it turns into a discussion on what someone “deserves”, and why and how they should obtain it. That isn't
the most clever way of going about getting or attaining something. People can stop you short if they get an idea where
you're headed with something or if they can see where you're going with a topic.

Terence McKenna said it was about novelty. Novel means new and novelty is the noun defined as newness. He also never
talked about his DMT trips or experiences, besides letting loose the vaguest ideas of what it is about and what it was like for
him. He would speak of its relation to psilocybin as well as intimating their differences, if any, regarding the finest detail.
People can speak of the similarities and differences between LSD and psilocybin containing mushrooms, or how
psychedelic they are compared to DMT. The history of most substances that happen to exert “mind manifesting”
characteristics end up falling under the category of psychedelic through their psychoactive effects, and so it's these same
substances that have played a role in indigenous people's so called “vision quests”, usually undertaken by Native American,
Indian, or Mexican men and women, and sometimes children in certain tribes all throughout parts of the world, eventually
being introduced to outsiders or foreigners, occasionally dubbed “gringos” or the white man in some literature since at least
the 50's, or implied as much in them. That consumption of those items is usually performed by a shaman, or medicine man,
known as “one who knows”, in jungles and other tribal settings, use and the art of extending to all sorts of practitioners in
the jungle, from sorcerers and brujas, usually taking on a negative connotation and working out of spite, anger, jealousy,
evil, pride, or other dark motivations not considered entirely pure or wholesome. It would then seem something to expect.
Growing up, as a kid I would sometimes hear allusions to pink elephants being a hallucination and that they weren't real.
Similarly there would be things, such as ideas, about LSD or mushrooms inducing goblins or elf-like creatures, which
seemed interesting, and maybe like something out of Mario. There would also be an occasional break that a person ran
down the street claiming to have been being chased by a dragon, and so I would think about how those things would affect
reality or play a role. You couldn't see them. They couldn't be said to be there all the time, although sometimes they could. It
is sometimes said or demonstrated that science-fiction ideas sometimes influence reality, bringing the technology to life,
instead of it always being the other way around where they only use real life ideas. Art imitates life or life imitates art, there
is only so much that can be done or occur, so that, in a matrix, every possibility will occur on different scales, when things
seemingly run out, on a fractal scale, they still occur there too, only expressed in ever slightly different ways in how they
happen. There are times when a person could have an idea, possibly being influenced by something and when going to act it
out, it may be realized that someone else did it before, so that it isn't as original in that way. They either could have been
privy to it or unawares, so that they still get points for originality on that scale. However, utilizing a concept similar to
“beauty is in the eye of the beholder”, such things become for other people to judge, placing their value on it, which can be
considered by the subject and used for whatever purpose is available to them. Then, not everyone can be pleased is
something that can be derived, leading to support for compromise. Things are also given value in that sense, so that the
categories defining these tend to be on the order of timeliness, relevance, and impact. Nothing has really “changed”, there's
been no paradigm shift altering the public's consciousness brainwashing what they think they want or like, making them feel
smart enough so that they think they know what's important. It is partly a want of entertainment, which leads to a desire for
food. If someone doesn't have their requests fulfilled it could lead to impulsive behavior, mistakes, and/or irrational
decisions altogether. Through logical constructions, which may or may not always be valid, yet still used, they set out to
prove opponents' viewpoints or credibility invalid. This is mostly done for their own satisfaction and less for any greater
good. That Terence McKenna never talked that much about his DMT trips or made any detail more known makes sense
using lenses of this sort, wherein the people who listen would just do anything in their power to denounce it, and possibly to
use his words as an aphrodisiac. That, in effect, is what happened to me, I noticed, after I initially spoke of my DMT
experiences, when the word got out. It didn't do me much good, as the near totality of the reaction was disappointment to
them, since, hypothetically, it didn't meet some standard they had set or it just wasn't what they wanted to hear.

To summarize, there tended to be connections between people all over the world, in other words, basically shamanism and
different aspects from different time periods. This more accurately can be said to be just connections between different art
forms or systems. It is well known that one Buddhist maxim, with its own pros and cons, interpretations and criticism, is
that there are multiple paths to the one. There isn't just one thing, technically, that works, but to attain a state, can be seen or
done through nearly any profession or role. This is why connections between things can be seen, particularly in different
camps from different countries ranging over different time periods, or even the same era and on different continents. This
ranges from New World shamanism in the Amazonian jungles to Siberian tribal shamanism in the Old World. Things of ever
increasing antiquity became more and more interesting to me during certain stages of my life, and became more pronounced
yet. Growing up I liked the future and technology, especially computers and videogames. Things such as the pyramids,
regarded a mystery, were interesting, because it seemed unbelievable people back then had the technology or means to
accomplish feats of that sort. There was no record or indication of it being so, unless it was well hidden.

In some classifications of systemized magic, there are three types: light, dark, and anima. Water would fall under anima,
which is considered more like nature, or the natural arts, using the forces of fire and lightning, among wind, ice, and the
other elements, to create definitions and shoot darts at people, for either healing or sorcery. In Amazonian shamanism, it is
also common to suck darts or poison out of someone in order to cure them. The magical darts are known as tsentsak.

Water can also be sensed and felt in the air and wind through moisture in being sensitive to the weather, for a possible rain
dance. This is not known to have occurred frequently throughout history as there is no guarantee one will work.

Historians like categorizing water as one of the more ethereal “forces”, giving it a more eerie or languid character. The other
types, light and dark, are more ethereal and abstract in nature. In fact, they all three are in practice theoretical, and almost
statistically caused through will or plain circumstances, it not being too difficult for a thing to come to fruition, whether
metaphorically or concretely. The light arts are based on Christ and ascension, and would more or less be the right thing to
do. Dark magic is essentially that, and thought to be a relatively unknown system, although knowledge of it has been around
since as early as anything else. It is sometimes said black magic just involves the inducement of fear in others.

In fact, the entire thing eventually seemed like the uncovering of a Nazi plot put into motion since that era and possibly even
before, some sick and twisted game everyone else was somehow in on except me. It definitely became, or has always been,
in most ways, a war for women. It was not, obviously, a war on women or society, as the typical stories or propaganda went.
No – it was a war for the obtaining of women and girls.

It had always been said that a “conspiracy” or plot along the magnitude of Illuminati/New World Order mysteries takes an
enormous amount of man power to orchestrate, and is thus impossible, as leaks would be inevitable, and the sheer
willpower alone it would take to keep the thing going is impossible to attain, given the jealous nature of human beings and
people, keeping that story going for ages seems unlikely. People can underestimate the power of management. They take the
human spirit to be a default value of sorts, only capable of what the critic is able to conjure up in bouts of unfulfillment.

Generally for creative work you want to figure out your audience and your purpose, and then think about what you are
going for or trying to achieve, and then set out a plan of action.

I seemed to have attained some state of social standing, wherein I reached some pinnacle, and all the interests of other
people were simply derivations of my own: the women I was attracted to, my type, once people, particularly females, found
out about my tastes, merely transferred the qualities over to males, so they could enjoy the next possible best thing for their
self. This suggested to me satanic intent, since, by that logic, it would create a never ending cycle where all the other people
devour the resources for themselves out of fright of an uncertain future, so it became an excuse to “live in the moment”.
They become so busy with consuming that they care for little else and use no hindsight.

What

It became more important to look back at history and the conservation of it, not so much in respect for the culture, but in
this instance as a duty of some sort, in part since no one else was or cared enough to when you looked into it. No one was
really self starting any save the rainforest organizations or efforts, except for what was relevant or said to be of immediate
importance. These efforts include climate action to reduce CO2 leakage and general reduction in atmosphere harm. There
was a general trend towards switching to green options or clean energy and electricity.

One thing to consider is the connection between food and fairies, particularly, leaving food out over night in order to meet
appeasement. If not done, it could typically bring on the wrath of the fairy, or just bad luck through the negative vibes set in
place through that.

Synchronicity
As Jack Kerouac wrote his original scroll edition of On the Road on a typewriter and got one long document in manuscript
form as the idea came to him in bursts, not all describe it as stream of consciousness. It was something commonly said to
have been written as fast as possible, having gotten done in three weeks, that relatively short time span for any described
monument for a critic will be a thing for them to say, referencing the quality of the workmanship to its period of production
or how hard it was to accomplish. His production of the scroll got the job done for him and what he needed it for; other men
in the past could have been thinking along the same lines in order for a centuries long plan to be realized into motion. The
game was being played a certain way and only recently definitions were being understood by the masses, and we were
actually defining them. You aren't really noticing it at the time if you aren't minding it 24/7, then a bird's eye view of things
can help aid the situation to be more influenced by it in moments.

Then things sort of changed. At first you weren't really to be expected to “remember everything”. That isn't to say you, by
default of that, have a bad memory. No, there's nothing keep an individual such as that from having a normal to exceptional
memory. Even, their brain can just spasm in ways that make connections in ways different than other people. This meant
there was some value in information, or knowledge, even though it still was “it's not what you know but who you know”.
You basically had to remember everything about something now, or else it somehow was proof that you didn't do or
experience something, such as consume an art in a certain way.

It just became about what people were talking about, depending on who is known or attempted to communicate with, seeing
as how people would interpret things. They wanted to see proof, whether needed to or not is debatable. It all became for
want of a book, or a suitable product, and for what, just normal progress as a living organism. It became just all an
explanation or need to prove good workmanship. There was no explanation. People just wanted one or you were given a
role and basically were “explaining” something, mostly because it “wasn't there” whether deliberately or not. In MBTI “Fi”
is introverted feeling, as opposed to “Ti”, introverted thinking. There are 16 personality types according to it, with
interchanging “cognitive functions” totaling or numbering eight, with an accompanying shadow function integration.
Everyone knows Carl Jung originally propounded upon the idea of “personality types” in his writings, the Archetypes and
the Collective Unconscious. They are, it turns out, inverses of one another, so that they are simultaneously similar and
different, the same, and yet, distinct. That reality is made out of language and meaning defines that. In a sense they don't
have to be the same or related at all, yet, they are, or tend to be, through the language that we have and use.

--------------

Trying to “figure out” what Bill Burroughs is talking about in his books has become a popular fad or attraction lately.
There's some evidence that he was interested in psychedelics, although he later goes on to state that he feels they aren't
exactly for him. As is well known, he was mainly a user of junk, or heroin, not necessarily psychedelics. In Naked Lunch,
he has the characters use “bug powder” and “Mugwump jism”, which might not bear any resemblance to LSD or DMT
containing substances.
According to this chapter, DMT has a reputation as a “nightmare hallucinogen” in some parts of the world. Burroughs is
known as one of the first, if not the first, user or promoter of DMT. He sought visionary hallucinogens to cure heroin
addiction and could only end up describing them as “sinister”. Some of these compounds he sought there, were DMT and
yage, which is just a DMT containing brew combined with an MAOI found in plants such as Banisteriopsis caapi or syrian
rue seeds.
Although he used the “cut up method”, some find Burrough's “style of writing” weird or difficult to decipher in some of his
works, such as Naked Lunch. This would cause people to correlate that notion with the popular fact that Burroughs used
drugs. This wouldn't necessarily imply one or the other, especially that the DMT he used caused his writing output to appear
more abstract, or convinced him to use the cut up method, as other factors could be involved.
-------
I didn't use DMT as a topic suggesting a thing that was so difficult to figure out and so whoever does gets a prize of some
sort. Geomancy is described as a divinatory technique, and he implies palm reading or crystal ball gazing are lower level
arts. Jose Arguelles is alternative-Terence McKenna like figure who has the distinction of having Latin American, Spanish,
and Mexican origin so as to add a sense of heritage to the psychedelic use, which isn't to say Terence McKenna performed
any appropriation or adulteration to what culture there were. Terence McKenna spoke of the psychedelic mushroom, DMT,
LSD, weed, and the basis of hyperspace. Arguelles's work explores in detail the implications of what Terence's models said.
There is a hint of the psilocybin experience in what Jose explores. For instance, while many disagree with Terence by
calling him a hippie for proposing the Timewave Zero model of novelty, those same critics haven't studied the I Ching that
he also used to base it on. Arguelles does, and so what he did supports what Terence did more. Not many have mastered the
I Ching or participated in a session of it so they might not always understand his point when he talks about it. It's also
known as the Book of Changes and is similar to a board game, operating on the observing of 64 hexagrams in which various
combinations of them reveal the total number of patterns and changes that are represented in this universe and ultimately,
beyond. Such a system is considered pseudo science with the rest of it, including astrology, tarot, ufo, and other New Age or
spiritual ideas. It isn't so much a literal conspiracy but the psychedelics are only loosely connected to those scenes. I would
say that the biggest factor connecting them is the alien and ufo aspect, which is a symbol for many different things in what
our perception has access to. Each memory or action that could happen and has happened could be contained within the
field of consciousness. However, it isn't so much a joke. That is predicated mostly on experience and the amount of wonder
that can be generated during someone's first time at something. That that is what defines moments allows organisms to
experience the act of wondering about many things and actions, including future concepts.
Information and knowledge are considered enormously important by people, especially in the New World's overly
intellectualized sphere of pursuits that used to promise glory for the image of displaying a mildly intelligent fellow. What is
attractive can change in processes alluding to sexual and artificial selection. Calling it a conspiracy goes as far as racism; it
isn't the most intelligent who survive and reproduce. Even though democratic selection through popular vote doesn't
intrinsically represent the truth or what's right, it can still be a powerful thing. For example, most people were in favor of
slavery even though it wasn't morally or ethically correct on many humanist grounds.
To make one thing clear, Terence McKenna is a white male and I am a black male. This two facts can highlight the
differences our experience in life may have produced. It can be reasonably ascertained that he was attracted to white
women. I am as well. Through listening to his talks and reading his work it's clear that the message he spread or the way he
was trying to help was, in a way, mostly, how to attract these women, the white, Caucasian, or more Jewish sort, as the
person you are. It is clear he had the ability to place himself in another's shoes, namely that he must have wondered what it
would be like for a person like me in a predominately white, competitive environment such as the United States. You can't
always pull the race card because romantic and sexual relations are mostly someone's choice, if not environmental
limitations. Most advice is just to do what girls like or prefer, since they are picky. There is mostly little attachment or
personality embedded in actions. Most people take a happy go lucky attitude with life, and may not always want to see you
win. Some just want to take what you have for their own self, and through that, not many women have real preferences for
the partner they end up with, let alone bearing children with. This attitude and the beliefs surrounding it is what comprises
the basis of their mindset and what they think defines them as a people, meaning, it is an indicator into what they have in
mind when they consider descendants and how they want to be depicted in the grand scheme of things.
That knowledge and information is fragmented is shown by memory and the fact that, for most people, they can't do things
such as remember everything at the same time, nor easily conceive what will occur if that were to really happen.
Forgetfulness can imply that is a design and there is no easy way around it, with old age or amnesia. Short term memory is
related to paying attention and performing tasks. If all information were one, so to speak, reality and perception would be
different. Things are only the way they are in this universe because it all fractally split so that the individual can take on its
own experential process. This is a model similar to the Fall of man in the Garden of Eden, and the one true reality is God. It
is one of the few metaphors that hold up when describing the full psychedelic experience properly, such as the breakthrough
DMT genre of it. Breakthrough experiences of LSD are a learning experience of a different sort.
It is sometimes said that our true identity is taken from us and we were handed down lies by those in control. Our true
destiny may be unknown if it is never told to us or found out. What it says in the Bible isn't always believed or taken to be
the truth, regarding transcendence or our next dimensional destiny. The day was always on the horizon when there would be
a renaissance in science. Its effect on the populace must be noticeable. Once mysteries like dark matter and dark energy are
solved then we will be even closer to such revolution. Thus, it is said we need a figure of some sort, taking on the messianic
role, or the true visionary, psychonautical mascot. The hypothesis laid forward earlier logically requires a system of
principles that hold its foundation in place. Fiction works of art may not always be the best medium to instruct it, so texts
from Arguelles or McKenna and similar figureheads influence further the explanation of it as references. If you are familiar
with any of the revolutionary ideas I can assure you safely that it will go down a little something like this. As I've stated
prior, my model and idea of “demanding the return of my wives worldwide” is based off the applicability of this, which is
based on what we know about reality through science. I have been interested and studying it since I was a kid so the
frontiers can sometimes sound radical. It's one reason why the truth must be suppressed by the global order, because the full
utilization of it and its implications mean that I am the chosen one or king, and have birthright to sexual access to any
woman and girl on the globe, since that is who I am. I had been taken for nothing most of my life for this potential others
saw in me and the fear it caused in them, resulting in behavior where they subjugate me through passive aggression and
denial.
Energy and mass being equivalent is a revelation made during 1905 by Albert Einstein, it being quite a new and
counterintuitive idea, it improved our understanding of physics and time over Newton's model. It made us closer to forming
the well known theory of everything, or Unified Field Theory (GUT, Grand Unified Theory). This is the same story told
many times, in a sense, so I won't spend too much time going over it again, and instead will focus on the details that explain
it. The name of the game is explaining the holographic theory of the universe more.
One thing that goes hand in hand with intuition is prediction. There is some value in that. Divinatory techniques are
considered pseudoscience similar to tarot, so one that powers the I Ching through the reading of lines wouldn't be any
different, and also wouldn't be readily accepted by Western thought. Geomancy can be translated as feng shui, what
westerners know as decorating a room and gauging the spiritual energy. However, in 1949 Bertholet dubbed geomancy
astrobiology, giving it a definition different than the astronomy based science that Carl Sagan was known for studying,
mainly, a system of studying planets and in our solar system, to assess habitability on the other worlds. It used to be that
people studied a science at university to select a career in one to work and earn their living to support themselves and a
family, possibly. The three main sciences are usually chemistry, physics, and biology. Psychology is considered a soft
science. Computer programming and software engineering thrive in different ways, from web design to IT. Knowing how
each work is good mostly for conversation and to be or appear knowledgeable. Within physics astronomy may be found as a
related branch. Within astronomy is astrophysics, more related to the interstellar aspects over anything else. Astrobiology
mainly focuses on the search for life. Within biology and chemistry you may also wish to explore biochemistry,
neuroscience, nutrition, microbiology, and other such fields.
Not everyone is impressed by such scientific knowledge, and actions usually speak louder than words, especially when
looks don't matter and how much money you have is the only factor a potential mate considers. If you build it, they will
come, in other words, people might only read something they have an interest in, if they want to accumulate the knowledge
or bits of information for whatever reason. Or, if you can't make it interesting or relevant in a compelling enough way, they
won't be entertained in the ways you intend. So why would it be important? Humanity is said to be a species with amnesia,
and the sciences are various tools used to reconstruct an image of the past, which contains an enormous amount of
information about who we are and where we're going. Of course, if I mention the past, people will think about future or
want to hear about it as if I forgot just because I didn't mention it yet.
There aren't many reliable ways of going to the future and coming back, and since people these days find notions of
uncertainty useless and not entertaining, hypothesizing about it isn't that useful, so I won't really do it here in that way based
on that logic. People become disappointed if you don't know or remember a certain fact. It isn't always only yourself you
disappoint. When taking a test of some sort you'd need to be able to remember all the details to apply them in relevant ways.
Consensus can sometimes be variable.
The Royal Institute of Anthropology also dubbed geomancy with their own term, mystical ecology. Astroecology is another
one that's focused on connecting the mind and environment through subtle means. The 60's were filled with new and exotic
sounding Chinese activity such as tai chi, acupuncture, I Ching, meditation, and feng shui. The counterculture of the time
also called feng shui or geomancy earth acupuncture. This gave a whole new meaning to the saying that Earth may be alive,
literally, and not just in ecological ways, which, however, ends up meaning quite the same thing if proven. Astrology is
looked at as the (science of) clarifying and defining the connections of the individual human body to that of the planet and
that of the planet to the solar system, then stars, and the entire universe beyond. Because of this, you can't separate it from
physics or astrophysics, unless you call it pseudoscience. The physics leads to philosophy and both ask questions about
what to do, as much as physics is purported to predict events. Geomancy covers a similar concept. It regards the earth as a
living organism, in a sense, whose processes and motions are connected to our own perception and biology through the
structures of the earth and human body plus their functions, in addition to the structures of the celestial spheres, so to speak,
and the heavens above, whether it need be metaphorical and how much so. As above, so below is a phrase commonly used
that is simple enough to convey almost the entirety of it in a as few words possible. Other attempts require large putting
together of pieces. This connotation for geomancy is recommended to be used for art. In some ways this produces true
works. On the other hand there is the belief that in the multiverse, everything that can be done to rectify creation should be
so as to fulfill Adam's original mission for the return to the pre-Garden times, which would become post.
The Luz bone in Kabbalistic literature is said to be the bone from which resurrection of the body occurs after death, during
Jesus' return. This has never really been something a person is able to observe in the physical. However, through
metaphorical interpretation and a fractal understanding of the universe, new interpretations in which this is more clear and
demonstrable should be prevalent. Not everyone agrees with Christian doctrines, however, so it is used as a good
explanation of things that happened, whether wrong or right, as well as predictions or explanations of future events. It
explains the differences between science and art insofar as them being preferences people can have and as means, who they
attract as mates in life, in some instances, requiring passion to be used for income to support stability in living on this
planet.
----
Salvia
The first time I smoked salvia, it made me unable to stop laughing for a really long time until I fell asleep. I went over to a
friend's place and they were going to smoke a joint. I gave them a ride all over before dropping them off there. This was
early in my career of smoking weed. It would have been my 5th or so time smoking pot and getting stoned enough so it was
something to look forward to in that regard, irrespective of set and setting.

It was a guy from one of my classes who dropped eventually. He needed a ride and I was bored wanting to hang out so we
went, and he said he'd play Street Fighter with us, that he was good and able to provide a challenge, so I took him. He
sucked. Then I was dropping him and his friend back.

We went into that apartment complex and he rolled a joint, so we went into the backyard porch area to spark it. The guy
who was sleeping in that apartment, came out his room and told us to stop making noise. He looked kind of agitated and
confused, like knock it off, I couldn't understand his frustration just yet.

This was only going to be one of my beginning times smoking weed, with the first occurrence happening not too prior to
this, so I was still excited about its effects and any exotica to it, such as synaesthesia or increased sensitivity to sensory
detail, like getting the munchies and making food taste better.

We went outside to do it. The first guy toked it, then vomited, and said he knew it was going to happen. The second guy
smoked it then passed it to me. I hit it. What resulted, was me laughing and giggling. The friend guy stormed off, went back
inside the apartment and we followed. Then he left, out the front door, in a seeming fury. I couldn't stop laughing no matter
how hard I tried. We sat on the couch in the darkness and basically waited for sleep, unable to really do anything else. I kept
laughing. After realizing I couldn't control it or stop, I figured I'd have to ride it out. I think the guy who's place it must have
been came out again and told us to quieten it down, despite our best efforts. I kept laughing uncontrollably.

Not long after on the internet I chatted with a few people when the topic of weed came up, and I told them I smoked it
maybe twice before. When I related the experience one person told me it was actually salvia, then when I looked it up, it
seemed as if it could be so. However, upon retrospect, it could have just been weed, and that my tolerance was low. It did
seem like it could have been salvia on the other hand, so I put this experience under this category. In the future I merely
made more note to be careful when preparing a dose, so as to positively identify the substance as well as dose, even if a
scale is not present.

------------

My first experience with LSD was a low dose, similar to with mushrooms, so I probably didn't get the “full experience”. I
remember wanting to transmit much information, and it was one tab, me being generally unaware of what the effects would
be, knowing weed wasn't particularly cutting it as far as tolerance and enjoyment would go. I had to go to work the next day
but was assured I'd be fine when I picked them up, and I only got one, comfortably, thinking two would be too much. I
drove back home. He said to eat it on the ride back but instead I waited until I was almost there and then did it, by putting it
into my mouth, afraid it'd kick in then and I'd crash, luckily, I made it home safe, parked, and just relaxed, waiting for it to
kick in.

I can't recall much from this trip, pretty much my first, besides it being pretty uneventful, not knowing what to expect in the
first place that much. I just put youtube on and started watching videos, catching up on some I had been meaning to view. I
kept getting racing thoughts and had to write or post them somewhere, so I mainly just made a few Facebook posts that
seemed, I would have imagined, somewhat out of character or a little more unusually stoned than normal or what would
have been typical. They were mostly thoughts about how 'everything is one', or questions concerning the certainty of
humanity's future, some of them tongue in cheek or “ironically funny” if you saw them as high thoughts. It started to get
annoying because I couldn't really get anywhere. And then, I didn't like it because it wasn't really psychedelic. I still craved
DMT or mushrooms more. It made me think about how other people must feel or have felt, knowing it has been around
since the 60's. It made me think like a hippie, so to speak, but it also made me think more like myself, as in, it provided
enough of a stimulation so that I could express more of my potential rather than holding it in, waiting for some right
moment – and these are the reasons why these medicines have been implicated in the use of therapy, couples therapy,
marriage counseling, PTSD, any psychotherapy, “healing”, and even in military contexts such as a torture device, potential
truth serum (in which cannabis has also been looked at and experimented with for a possible use in that), and a super soldier
serum making men more violent or berserk on the battlefield similar to the viking myth where they ate the fly agaric to
increase perceived strength and agitation, which would presumably be useful in heated battles. As far as I am aware, none of
these substances were successful in those trials, and neither were any of the bizarre cousins of the next generation that were
introduced, so I'm reasonably certain and of reasonable suspicion that the psychedelics in general for the most part were
discontinued from that branch of research because they more often than not caused euphoria instead of freak out violence,
and so other methods were researched “on the record”. If our government or forces in control were really malevolent or
wished harm, there's little reason to believe they'd want to introduce entheogens to the masses for fear of a kind of
“revolution” - unless that had been the coordinated plan all along – which would require a sort of suspension of belief and
an understanding of how the world works. It wasn't really that visual for me.

I put off doing LSD again for years. It didn't seem worth it and my main interest was DMT while I continued to study. I had
tried smaller doses of mushrooms in between that time as well but nothing really “heroic” or Terence McKenna-ish so I
never “broke through”; at the same time, I wouldn't have called them microdoses. I did that like seven or eight times total so
back then, I tried mushrooms like three or four times. It was to observe the psychedelic effects. People talk about
encountering aliens or elves with psilocybin, similar to DMT, but many also say it isn't really that visual for them. DMT is
visual. There's some “visual distortion” you can also get with LSD or psilocybin although it's thought the visions aren't as
vivid or don't seem “more real than real” as much as DMT induces. It's as if dimethyltryptamine is some starting base
source with psilocybin and obviously lysergicaciddiethylamide being derivatives or analogues of ayahuasca. That also isn't
to mention the psychedelic stimulants, the phenethylamines such as mescaline (peyote – 3,4,5,trimethoxyphenethylamine)
and MDMA (3,4,methylenedioxymethamphetamine), which is psychedelic for some people, and could have visual effects. I
turned down my first offer of mushrooms. I also turned down my second one for the same reason. I sometimes feel I could
regret it, since it means I didn't try psilocybin sooner, instead focusing on ayahuasca, and this whole period I was smoking
weed and plus with occasional salvia thrown in. Cannabis was a general “standard”.

I researched all the psychedelics and human nervous system interactions, with maybe too much of a bias on DMT while
skeptical simultaneously.

I focused only on DMT and the plants containing its alkaloids. Mushrooms still seemed interesting but I was still
researching them. During college, a guy came up to me near the last few semesters of my tenure at that institution and tried
to sell me mushrooms but I said no. We smoked a joint though and I was thinking about DMT the whole time. I told him “I
wasn't ready”. I tried to contact him about a week later trying to do it again but I couldn't meet up so that connection got
lost, in other words.

Some other guy kept trying to sell me some acid but I kept saying no, because of my first experience with it, I wanted to
protect my brain, and only wanted the DMT. Finally after we graduated, and after I ran out of DMT, I obtained the LSD and
tried it, a higher dose this time, and liked it. It was more the “full experience” compared to a low dose (one tab). It got me
“the right kind of high” rather than just a relatively low consequence stone like cannabis smoking. Although, cannabis is an
integral part of the LSD intoxication in my opinion.

I thought about it a bit. He said okay then I went over there. I wore sandals and when he answered the door he was barefoot.
It was a quiet, solemn evening and I had gotten weed from him a few times, and took some dabs, when he urged me to get
the acid but I said no because my previous, lackluster experience with it and the DMT bias which I had tried before, and it
was psychedelic. So I buy the two tabs and he says it's all he's got, that's the rest. I go back to my place then basically take
the two tabs. They kick in after about 45 minutes and it made more sense, because I saw more of the true nature of the LSD
experience, compared to my first. He also said the tabs were more potent than usual, if I recall correctly, so the two tabs
were really equal to about 3-4 total. When it kicked in, it just made me think about some previous actions I did in the past,
recent stuff too, and how I could have been better or treated other people more nicely, then it almost made me breakdown
and cry; etc, during the first 5 minutes of it, then I figured, I couldn't just sit there all day and whine so I got up to move
around and do stuff, while my vision started to go crazy. I had just finished all my DMT that I had and realized how similar
LSD was to it, because the visual distortion was exactly the same on this come up as it was on a low dose of DMT, about
one toke nonbreakthrough, three tokes being breakthrough, and one being the equivalent of a come up on mushrooms or
acid. So the first hour or so while it kicks in is similar to only one toke of DMT, it being a subthreshold amount so you don't
breakthrough the chrysanthemum if you even see one in the first place. So that was exciting. Then it fully kicked in and I
got way more stoned than cannabis ever got me, although smoking weed on LSD has an interesting synergy, which can't be
discounted enough. So, cannabis in general “magnifies” your feelings or “enhances” the evening with whatever you're
doing.

This was the popular trip I like to mention wherein UFOs would bleep into existence every now and then for a few seconds
then disappear, and there'd be grey aliens in my periphery every so often for 12+ hours straight. Then I'd also see a Hunter
S. Thompson like character with Gonzo and lawn chairs, smoking cigarettes, and they'd look all proud. There'd also be
“fractal like” patterns in my vision forming grids and everything would look all egyptian, similar to a certain kind of space
DMT puts your head in. It was pretty interesting from that perspective. A lot of people say acid isn't visual for them but it
was then, and it tends to be for me, considering my work with DMT and how it's visual – for me, DMT is nothing but
psychedelic and visual. People say they don't get visuals from mushrooms either.

I remember stargazing as I was going to a friend's house late at night. I came from a world of DMT, which lasts 5 minutes,
so I wasn't that used to this more intense, longer lasting experience as I looked at the stars – it made me think that time was
running short and that these kinds of things would have to be planned. I needed to stargaze more. So you had a choice.
Inevitably no matter what you did someone would just say doing something else was probably the better choice, and more
for your own good.

I tried to stargaze but it just looked weird. I thought my distorted acid vision would 'enhance' the stargazing period but it
looked too morphing. However, I later on noted certain stages of the acid intoxication are just right for it, where your vision
isn't too far gone but still sharp enough that it looks different with more colors going. That wasn't really then then I don't
think, so that's why I left and thought I'd do more later.

I recall stargazing and on another attempt trying to recreate the experience and only finding it just bizarre and insane trying
to comprehend. I thought it would be a crystal clear view but there was only a green blob web around a limited view of
vision that was generally distracting, and had the essence of schizophrenia.

The acid showed me who I really was or could be during trip #4.

I had my preferred dose for LSD down and began to understand a more ritualistic approach in how the pattern plays out.

I tried LSD a few times. On one particular occasion it was similar to the previous time I had done. To be specific, I tried it
maybe eight times and they were kind of different each time, at different doses. One noticeable time, it was after I had
powerful experiences with it. So it was my 6th or 7th time doing it maybe. It made the place look different that I was in. I
have a sort of belief that the psychedelics are different every time, although similar and of a similar pattern, and hard to
remember in the first place to begin with. Even if you write things down, and no matter what you write down, it would be
“hard to describe”, or anything similar of the sort, even being able to remember and describe some aspects of it, even in
ways just connected to the literature and lore, and not actually what the symbols you saw meant, wholly, usually only
insofar as the subject is still mostly mysterious to people these days.
In effect it was the choose your audience digression. Before starting a project, it's said to figure out what it is. It didn't have
anything to do with credentials. If you were going to write a medical, scientific book, that would be one thing, given all that
exist already. It would just to be to prove you could really do it* (this would be related to MBTI and mainly the “Te-Fi”
axis). The stream of consciousness thing was only used as an opportunity, as others just placed it in a category of being
limited to that kind of style. It increasingly became clear that they didn't understand something, and the relegation they were
placing on the marginalized was their own ego defense, so as to maintain that shield and not give in or admit anything, a
mere delay, to save face.
The first of these few times was reference elsewhere in this volume. That time, some of the hallucinations were of a
characteristic nature. It made the room look a certain way. It gave everything a fantasy look, oddly enough, seeing as how it
was acid. When I looked at my bookshelf across the room, everything started to look like a wooden fairytale log cabin
house, with trees growing red apples outside and an active chimney puffing smoke into the outside. I seemed like a wise
wizard or elf, even a hobbit getting ready to go on an adventure. It was quite simple. It was that, and it was enjoyable and
interesting. That happened twice.

My work bordered, and was, the subject and topic of my life and general, overall interest, fairies, so not only were things
like fairy tales and other sources of interest and relevance, other things were investigated too.
It quickly became obvious that LSD, like DMT and mushrooms, was different every time, despite there being a pattern to
their intoxication. Multiple LSD trips were required to be able to describe it accurately and not leave anything out. While it
was different every time, some motifs that are a general part of the pattern were not always present in a particular
intoxication, although it may occur the next session or even be an aspect that played a light role, and as such while it still
may have occurred, the subject could consider it irrelevant and leave it out of certain descriptions, or even not be educated
enough to realize what it is nor its importance to the situation.

There was a series of LSD experiences that were similar to a spiritual emergency. I have yet to write about them, so this is
the first time they appear in print. Before, it was just word of mouth and through the grapevine, so I became a living
example of it, but now, for the first time I'll write about them and what I can remember.
I was writing a book, to explain the situation I was currently in, for an attempt at returning to the state of health I was in
before, and for pleasure, in that what I would be writing about was science and history. I dosed some acid once and used the
burst as inspiration to get some writing done on the more poetic side, before continuing on with the non-fiction sides of the
story. I smoked some weed and saw how it enhanced the intoxication, but ran out. Then I went out to obtain more weed. I
got off at the transfer station and some hagglers caught me, so I bought some off them on the street instead of the
dispensary. While waiting for the train I saw a girl across the street.
----
My first experience with DMT was during my college days. I had read the Spirit Molecule already and was familiar with
notions of psychedelia through research or word of mouth. I already turned down mushrooms a couple times and sort of
regretted it because I felt I wasn't ready or just didn't have enough money. I had a general idea of what it could do through
Terence McKenna. So I just thought DMT was crazier, and I still planned on doing more and higher doses of mushrooms
too when I moved and had more space.
I heard about it by people at parties and what not but they never had a direct connection so I couldn't get any, and had to
wait my opportunity just to satiate my curiosity. I managed to find a source and he gave me some so it was my first time
trying it finally. I describe it as everything it was promised to be, after reading Spirit Molecule and Terence McKenna, plus
listening to and hearing his lectures. Also, some Graham Hancock and Daniel Pinchbeck ayahuasca experiences contributed
to the understanding. I tried it with or without music. There are a few general things to note that I take to be certain facts or
common occurrences with it, smoking, or vaping it, and without mono amine oxidase inhibitors so it isn't a huasca. Terence
McKenna was right about most of what he said about DMT from what I've noticed. You have to take three hits or you won't
get the full experience. Hold it in your lungs as long as possible. 7-30 seconds. That's smoking or vaping it, in the Spirit
Molecule studies it was injected via I.V. Smoking it can be hard because while you're inhaling it and holding it in, it's still
burning in the pipe or bowl and wasting away; ripping it out a bong is similar and could be more efficient for intake. It's best
to smoke it straight, not mix it wit weed, to get the pure stuff.
It's like a high dose of mushrooms or LSD in 3-15 minutes. It makes you feel like you're about to die. They call it the
“business man's trip” because you could have a powerful, LSD like experience in under an hour and be back before lunch
break ends.
They say before you die, are born, or during dreams/lucid dreams the brain releases more DMT which causes what you
could see during perception , so they think it could be what causes dreams. However, it might not. It could be DMT and/or a
number and combination of different serotinergic indole compounds that cause it. The molecule is similar to serotonin.
Serotonin in animals promotes movement and feelings of euphoria or elation. The amount of DMT in an organism's
cerebrospinal fluid alters the vividness of perception and reality. If your cannabis tolerance is low enough or you're sensitive
to it, upon ingesting any marijuana your vision could get more vivid too, although in a different way, where the colors look
more saturated. However, DMT and other substances have unique looks to them.
It is endogenously produced in the body. The body also makes monoamineoxidase inhibitors too, which are the other
ingredients in ayahuasca, and the one that makes the DMT not only orally active but last longer. Those are contained in the
Banisteriopsis caapi plant, known as harmines and harmalas (harmalines), constituted of the beta carbolines including
harman and harmalol. The other plant component or seed known for containing them is Peganum harmala or Syrian rue.
The brain makes 6-methoxy-1,2,3,4,tetrahydroharmine (Pinoline), which is an MAO-inhibitor and could be what causes
vision or visuals during sleep or lucid dreams.
The brain also makes melatonin in the pineal gland. Melatonin is 5-methoxy-N-acetyl-tryptamine which is similar to
serotonin as well and promotes sleep. It's also similar to 5-methoxy-DMT. That and DMT put you in sleep like states for
breakthroughs and if you take enough LSD or mushrooms they also make you have to lay down for sleep like visions or
CEV (eidetic imagery, or closed eye visuals). Melatonin might make your dreams more vivid and cause them. However,
there's no evidence that it does. It also triggers the onset of puberty in mammals such as gerbils and can shield you from
radiation by a mechanism involving curing jet lag. If the pineal gland gets calcified it could make puberty hit earlier or
faster.
The first time I smoked the DMT, I was in praise of its awe. The crystals were like little rock pellets or minerals. I mixed it
with weed to smoke it using the “sandwich method”. I was always interested in trying it and I heard so much about it. The
crystals smelled like mothballs and reminded me of death. On this day I couldn't wait to smoke it. I did it in a room at night,
waiting to do so. The light was on. I contemplated or anticipated going in the closet eventually for it. I tried to remember
what Terence McKenna said. The closet door was always open. Take three good, big hits, hold it in for as long as possible.
Sometimes it's hard to remember, if it operates on principles similar to dreams in the human animal. Sometimes it is
inherently impossible to remember or describe upon returning on come down. I would try to remember it as long as possible
or take those things or truths to be self evident, in the grand scheme of things. Spirit Molecule and some prior literature by
Stephen Szara would have to be the guidebooks.
I smoked it. I remember my body starting to feel all weird, similar to a heavy sleep or like dying, as a consequence of being
able to see all the psychedelic visions. I was familiar with some vague visuals caused by cannabis or LSD, and some vivid
or lucid dreams for reference. There was also some potential mushroom reference. The point is, DMT was the stuff, the
main thing that actually does it. It's exactly what that is. It only lasts 5 minutes. LSD or mushrooms were other good ones
because they last longer. Cannabis edibles are more psychedelic than smoking it because the metabolites going through the
gut are different ones, digesting slower.
I remember seeing or coming to an orange veil or screen after seeing some space-y, geometric patterns or motifs. The thing
was just PSYCHEDELIC in general. So, it looked “hella tight” or really beautiful. There was some reference from reading
Rick Strassman's Spirit Molecule. It made me collapse on my knees in the middle of the room; I didn't necessarily see
Terence McKenna's “Self-Dribbling Jeweled Basketball” objects, made out of visual language, or the 'Faberge Egg' thing. I
heard if you stay there too long you have to wait at least 15 seconds or take another hit; I believe I took another hit then
basically broke through. I must have went through various zones. At some point I realized or came to the conclusion, or
decision that I won't be able to recall any or describe it nonetheless and to try and focus.
Actually, during this experience I did see the Machine Elves. I remember some Spaceship, Matrix, and Computer Hub
mainframe loading dock like themes. Suddenly, the elves ran up. It looked like I was underground, and everything was dark.
This was near the end of the trip, when it was fading. I could open my eyes and still sort of see them. They were like
blinking in and out of existence. They were moving, like flashing here and there. These elves looked sort of like “phones” or
toy like objects, and were running around, moving, dancing toward this object, which looked like a bigger, more essential
version of them, they were venerating or worshipping it like a God or icon maybe, and it had a similar color scheme motif to
it. It was like white, green, orange, maybe some purple and yellow; etc. I guess it had a “clown” and alien like look to it,
also some kind of “Jewish” feel, like 2001: A Space Odyssey or rebirth maybe. It was basically psychedelic.
It reminded me of the Spaceship goal screen stuff from Toejam and Earl on Sega Genesis, where you have to find all your
spaceship parts and pieces. It looked kind of like that screen where it shows all the parts you have. It was kind of bizarre but
I was a little prepared for it based off what I read already, mostly from Strassman, although I honestly hadn't ever heard of
anything like this.
They seemed able to communicate or like we speak the same language but it was hard to get anything out of it. We were just
staring at each other, and they were sort of like showing me the object – which was mostly lifeless but also seemed sort of
alive. It wasn't moving though, like they were. I guess they also looked kind of buglike. Their mood was neutral but I guess
they were excited to see me, to at least show me or someone something.
There are the tales of the Daoine Sidhe, perhaps, or just Si (Sidhe, prononced 'shee') in Irish, which means mound, as in hill,
like underground or a knoll, and knox. It is said fairies live underground, so it could be connected to that theme. “Banshee”
means ghost, or a certain kind of female predeath spirit residing around water.
DMT might also be made in the pineal gland. The brain could be flooded with it during birth, triggering life and perception,
and ingesting any more via smoking it could cause an overdose or extra flood of it substantially, where you could break
through any veil or 4th wall dimension and see too much like what's going on behind the scenes, seeing and witnessing any
gods or spirits and entities that could be pulling strings. There could be insectoids or just various unrelated and random
spirits or demons. Another thing is there is no language or words for DMT, you just can't describe it at all. Eventually it just
ended. It was literally about 15 minutes. Before, nothing like that was possible. And then, it was. No dream or false
awakening, or lucid dream was that crazy. Mushrooms or LSD couldn't and didn't even do that. The smoke of it smelled of
moth balls and reminded me of a feeling like death or straight mystery. There's also like a “Santa Clause” or mushroom
spirit like feel to it. Very fairy tale like. It was literally visuals. There could have been a tolerance to DMT. You have to wait
like an hour or day at least to do it again. I thought it was worth it and it was just absolutely insane, I loved it. It was wild
and crazy, crazier than anything I could have expected or experienced, just beyond and transcendental, the Spirit Molecule
or PiHkal/TiHkal couldn't and didn't even really prepare me for it. It was pretty weird or strange, just bizarre. You can't
remember it. I wasn't sure what they were trying to show me or give me. It wasn't exactly like Terence McKenna said his
Machine Elves encounters are but it was similar enough. There was only one visual object they were really giving or
presenting me, although I didn't or forgot to actually talk or use my voice with them to see. They looked kind of machine
like. It had that kind of feel to it. Sort of Chistmas-y, and they were elves, kind of like toys and alive or aliens.

The next time I smoked it wasn't long after. I can't remember much of it besides everything starting to feel all alien and
weird, and I started to feel sick like I was about to die. It was too serious, and both times it felt like my consciousness got
sucked out my body and was in some other space, like hyperspace. Then when it ends, your spirit gets sucked back into
your body. Your body is all you have, without it you basically die. If you don't take care of it it could become sick and start
dying then there's nothing you can do, nowhere else you can really go or escape to, you're screwed. So it makes you care
more about that to increase its awareness to try and make you more healthy. It's just insane, and makes it feel like you're
about to die.
During this time I recalled the deathlike tinge to the crystals and all its mystery. When I smoked it, I consider it
breakthrough too, and it was a different color from the first time as I recall no orange-red chrysanthemum. I like the smell. It
makes your perception more sharp and alters fine edge detection. Mushrooms does that on a level too, which is why they're
similar and how they show some of it, in that way, although it's still different in the way they look and feel too.
This time, I remember being on a spaceship, and it was insane – I had never seen anything this crazy before at all. I heard
some of it in Spirit Molecule. I couldn't move. I remember setting my camera up to record this session but don't think I have
the clip saved anymore. The spaceship was more purple like, and it was like I had just got abducted by a UFO suddenly, and
I was on the operating table. My eyes were closed and this was after a while. This is exactly what it was. Or, this was
exactly what it is. It was DMT! It was so psychedelic, just an excessive amount of it. There were literally aliens and a
spaceship, and it lasted like 15 minutes. I could open my eyes and still see it. It was inordinately animated. The alien was
wearing a lab coat, and was green as well as reptilian looking. I noticed a light floating around that got my attention, and it
was a fairy, which was the alien's assistant (it looked like). It kind of looked like the dentist operating table with a light
shining down. It looked like the alien(s) were operating on me and I could see their arms. It was crazy. The spaceship
looked awesome. I wanted to stay there forever, and it was like a dream, very warm. It started to get less vivid and when my
eyes were open I could see it less so I understood it was running out and impossible to stay there basically without a steady
supply. The alien was moving so realistically, it wasn't really funny at all. And they were operating me, I could see it all
clear and vividly, visually. They were just doing their job, it was pretty straightforward.
I thought how it related to my previous experience with the machine elves. They weren't here at all this time, and it wasn't
particularly underground. Instead, it was a spaceship with aliens wearing lab coats and fairy helpers. It was also
psychedelic, basically, which means “mind manifesting”. Psychedelics are supposed to expand the mind, and they say a
mind once expanded never returns to its original form. DMT or the pineal gland have also been likened to the Holy Grail.
Dimethyltryptamine is the only way that should be able to happen, no dream could look as real. Some reports meditation or
Zen Buddhism also do it, or other mystical techniques such as Holotropic Breathwork or mind-imagination processes like
lucid dreams or false awakenings. LSD or mushrooms cause other visuals. It could be God or the alien, just the way they
can be accessed or communicate, taking the guise or visual appearing of whatever could be familiar or process-able to
humans. I wanted more.
The next time I smoked some wasn't too long after this, and it was on accident. I was with someone, and we were talking
about salvia. She had just been introduced to smoking cannabis and liked it; it made her feel elated and euphoric. So then,
the discussion about salvia occurred, in which it was relayed how bizarre it is compared to the easy goings of marijuana. I
don't particularly condone cannabis. It's fine to use once a week or so, but abuse easily builds up and can change character.
It's best used ritually, as it's habit forming, and tolerance builds up fast which leads to diminished effects through the need to
double the dose to feel similar effects in strength compared to the previous time you dosed or ingested any, with it still being
in your system. It wears out your adrenal glands with continued use like that, so you feel effects less. With me, I can't recall
dreams when I sleep and am smoking. I like tolerance breaks and not smoking weed because my dreams come back. You
can't really say for sure whether you do dream and just don't remember it or if it completely phases out your dream stages of
sleep. Some people say cannabis makes their dreams more intense or vivid.
It was a pipe. We smoked weed in it. I had already had mushrooms and the DMT in mind as far as further experimentation
with mind altering, psychedelic drugs, but she was rather new to it all, and weed. The weed's tolerance was jacking up in
her, leading to less euphoria when smoked. So it wasn't just looking for stronger stuff, it was getting to the actual program
of self experimentation with them.
So I was just telling her about salvia that I smoked in that pipe recently, and how bizarre it was. This is after the initial DMT
experiences, where I also obtained salvia and thought of smoking them at once but didn't want to because it made me feel
uncomfortable. They're similar in body load in most respects but different in appearance – DMT is more “light” while salvia
appears dark, with more earthly bound spirits – from my work with it so far.
We were just going to smoke weed in the car. I was in the passenger seat and we talked about the salvia, trying to point out
how bizarre and different from weed it is. She said she understood but I knew that that was virtually unlikely without ever
having tried it yet; I told her it was unpleasant and makes your body feel all heavy like you have to lay down, sometimes it
forces your body into a trance, sleep like state as well, it being related to any of the mexican-indian visionary plants that the
natives would use.
She said she was ready to try it, a really small dose, so I put one or two shreds of the extract in the pipe that barely looked
like enough to get a buzz, from experience (it'd usually take a full bowl, sometimes two, plus holding it in your lungs as
long as possible, like DMT).
So she smoked it and said it was nice, which I thought was odd since most people, the general consensus, is that it is
unpleasant and no one likes it. She requested more in the pipe so I loaded it and put it in there. Then she smoked it too. Then
suddenly, she let out a sigh of exclaim, “Oh...”, then sunk back in the seat. “That's proper,” I thought, noticing the “trance,
sleeplike” state heavier, breakthrough doses are supposed to induce. She was out for five or so minutes (although it could
have seemed like longer to her), the typical duration of a smoked saliva or DMT trip.
Then I put the weed in it to smoke it, which is what we were there to do. We were just going to get stoned then hang out and
like watch a movie or something. So I packed that pipe with the cannabis then hit it, while she was recovering, then as soon
as I did, I tasted the DMT, felt it, then said “Oh.”, and nearly regretted smoking it. I didn't know the DMT was in there, and
didn't smell it either. Until it hit. Then I knew. It all came rushing back – my previous experience with it, those impossible
feelings and sensations you absolutely can not get anywhere else but that DMT.
Because this dose was low, smoked unintentionally even, there weren't many visual hallucinations, but it was still a nearly
overwhelming experience, and strong. I couldn't move. And it felt like I peed my pants but when I would check, they were
dry. DMT is way more than just visual psychedelia. Some hypotheses suggest it opens your third eye chakra (ajna), and has
a connection to the body's aura, and spiritual mystical chakra system anyway, so that's why I think sometimes it feels (and
looks) like you get abducted by a UFO or aliens, them harvesting your essence or information (with a device attached to
your crown (crown chakra – sahasrara)), sucking life force out. No one knows quite what it does yet. It also felt like a
similar device was attached to my genitals, hence the “did I pee my pants?” notion. The genitalia are where the root chakra
is – muladhara, which is for “basic trust”.
So while all that was going on, and the person I was with was in the other seat, I could see literal geometric shapes spinning,
twirling, and rotating outside in the darkness. Everything started to look all sharp, too, as if I did a threshold dose of
mushrooms. There was a neon light blue triangle spinning and turning around in mid-air. If I hadn't experiened full
breakthrough doses of DMT prior to this, I wouldn't have been marveling at the possibilities as much. That's the only real
way to produce such visions or hallucinations. Cannabis alone won't do it, it more so saturates hues and if your tolerance is
low enough, can cause closed eye visuals (CEVs, or eidetic imagery) that can be surprisingly interesting or colorful. But
even that does nothing like actual, real geometric shapes, or anything designated true psychedelic imagery. That's why
cannabis is known as a “mild psychedelic”.
It was pretty cool, then ended after five minutes as expected, then you wish it sort of lasted longer – but it can't (not without
monoamineoxidase inhibition). That's what mushrooms or LSD are for, since they last longer. The nature of the DMT
experience itself... Is just so that it is what it is. If it went on for any longer like that, smoked, it'd just be awkward. Although
I suppose ayahuasca is a work around of that dilemma, even though Terence McKenna said it “doesn't go as deep as a
smoked DMT flash”. So they all have their own unique uses and attributes.

----
I first tried mushrooms around college, although it was a small dose, not sure if it could even be considered a microdose. I
turned them down twice for personal reasons first, so it took an extra few months for me to get started with them before
getting serious with them myself, something I feel could have been a mistake. I felt I wasn't ready or could go crazy, and
wanted to study them more, read more books about them first to be certain. Later, using LSD, I learned no reading of a
report could put the experience into words, and you could even say that about cannabis too.
The first time was with an associate I had been smoking weed with. One day he asked for a ride so we could pick them up
from a guy, around $30 worth. I only turned them down this time because I thought it'd be the wiser decision, and I was still
working a job and wasn't sure if I could risk it, as for one, the weed I began not too long prior could have been making my
work situation worse rather than better.
A few months later I got a call from him that someone had mushrooms at the park, so I went and got them. I gave him $5 for
it even though it wasn't much, just what was remaining. I ate them then we left, going over to the recording engineer's
house. I started to feel a presence by the time we got there.