memoirs of an evolving mind.

The following is an only slightly edited version of the fuzzy down time following shortly after a serious drug experience, some gloriously obscene night off during my halcyon days as a janitor. It's set in the early spring of 2006, a time well remembered by me for it's dark tones of indulgence and sin.

James you have just taken mushrooms, downed a powerful hallucinogen sprinkled with some form of giant bong assaults. Granted you were already tripping balls by this point, but whatever. At the end of this lucid dream I remember Tika. And laine. Jesus christ that was so fucking weird. NOW you must know that these drugs serve no purpose, they take you to a place you cannot go, Such a trip is not meant for you, a place where you cannot remember anything of what went on after a certain point.oh good gods what was I feeling I can't remember the lust(a bold inaccuracy, the feeling was too pure and physically detached) was beyond the fucking word I couldn't picture or place anything coherent it was so fucking trippy and so terrible I couldn't even imagine work was impossible for me, it was beyond my power I did not know this place. I am so goddamn hungry right now what the fuck is wrong like I've run a fucking marathon race inside my room. Oh christ (shellaine?) was just so fucking gone and so was george
I COULDN"T REMEMBER to believe my surroundings were real, OH GOD I'M SO fucking hungry or what I don't get it you wake up feeling more alive than you ever could've thought possible as if the whole life to the previous was a foolish notion of ill worth I think I forgot english again oh gods how could've it all been so easy. It took only two songs to get back to the house oh christ what was with shawn were those drugs no he was too lucid it's usually so obvious when he's on mush, I think my whole existence before this was not real I still don't feel real I don't get it like I've been walking around dead this whole goddamned time and I'm still dreaming I can just control it did i eat? How long was I gone to that fucking place where all was joy and horny and the gods only know what the fuck else with whom did I offer communion the whole thing was impossible my drugs must have greater purpose than this I must do them for some fucking reason or something not just to escape, a task I long ago completed without previously fucking realizing it I must have been howling or something nothing makes any sense shit this is all so weird I don't know you get really tired and then you dream it's a mushroom dream and nothing is real after that reality just fades away I knew nothing but what I'd done it was all so strange locked in the groove as it were like I was doomed to relive that single scene for the rest of my goddamn life and then I got up christ why did I fucking get up? why not just submit to the mushroom dream and collapse, let reality fall apart before my eyes and go someplace else for the rest of my days?

As an afterthought, I seem to recall that feeling being too chaotic to control or properly enjoy, the experience being my first step in realizing that chemical bliss can never for a moment supplant the real thing. Drugs were my way of learning to really appreciate my spiritual pursuits, to truly understand that when you really want a goal achieved, the hard way is the only way that actually means anything in the end.