Monoceros

2011-06-06T19:45:00.001-07:00

Knowsitall and Beryllium
And Moses finds himself opening a mottled door to the mottling glare of the Flat’s long hallowed co-symbiote, FairEcake; he, doorway-swooning, skulking, thence busying himself to the sofa, cowed by remorseless windwhippings, now accompanied by a scathing contribution from Dom to this greying Tuesday tango – on the tilt, “It’s fucking November and shit.!” – which finds blessed parity with a dull thud, a searing windlessness: a front door, mercifully rendered shut.
“Winking in-in-out of existence thismorn, I tell,” gasps the Cake, eyes rolling, animating ghoulishly this waxen form before us, “is this levelness stable?” But his desperation for confirmation, or something similarly weighty, something certainly not about to be bestowed once again, evaporates in a shrill giggle on his noting the very nearly total lack of concern for these rude affairs summoned by Moses Linguistik, Keeper of the Gate; in closing, a murmur before falling through the south-west-facing sofa, “Sorry; may’ve tried to hang on back there – do-ignore As. Of. Yeah.?”
Consulting with the cook, in this tiring and insulting epoch of combat and restriction, very much remains the name of late; the spike in things, growing, is pointing at self-reliance whenever and wherever heroic psychedelicism is concerned. Since Flattime Immemorial, FairEcake has been the committed and trustworthy chef: A moles and molecules man to the marrow, the Cake’s fundamental instruction in chemistry came primarily from an out-in-the-wings uncle during an impressionable period – dashing still, to FairEcake’s mind, for the man’s eccentric verbosity and penchant for trauma. Years’ passing found, finds, FairEcake combining his laboratorial interests with botanical knowledge plucked from the grand bowels of the Interweb: Clamouring indole(s )and alkaloids jettisoned their attention at a thing already beginning intention’s narrowing toward the wholly Other.
The primary failure of wo/mankind – resonanced in its rape of environment, for example, or its neurotic fear of the exotic or Other, for another – stems from its faithless reluctance to 'let go': 'Hanging on' is the defining attribute of both wo/mankind, and a dying, outmoded idea. Wo/man seems incapable of accepting that the scanner is in fact moving.! (It is the mystery rather than tradition that is embraced elsewhere in the galaxy – fuck! drawn and long-drawn-upon ideas.)
In keeping with tradition, Dom motions towards the door and, instoically, offers, "We're eviction-bound to fucking be sure, save for a jettison of funds, so what's the move here?"
- So they start to cook a pot of psychedelic ‘tea’ for cash. Then, owing to the day they have, or whatever, they decide to start a guerilla onslaught on the communal mind – freely give away the tea that the people may see.. Living lives – for one day – in such exemplitude that the thought that psychedelics are somehow fishy must be dismissed as preposterous.
"In the kitchen we make our scene," retorts dear Moses. "A gargantuan batch of home-farmed rebel fruits from us, neuro-transmissionaries, can outsource The Misery. Else, we pray The Lord Almighty end up belly-up."
"Ave, Ave, boys, the landlord is dead!" chimes the 'Cake from his singularity.
"He's coming back to us," observes Brother Frank, entering, noiseless, from the wings. "Shall we begin this thing, fellow prisoners of matter?"
In a kitchen filled with boilers, fryers, weight-measurers, and the first shift (in Moses Linguistik, Dom and Brother Frank, under the calm watch of the 'Cake) this cooking of the tea begins.
And somebody, maybe Dom, opens the bastardbox and rapid t’ings sparkle out in the form of the day’s headlines. We watch, mouths just slightly open, as the anchor spiels on and on (various atrocities and repackagings of atrocities piling higher and higher) until at a certain moment he pauses – the blessed silence instantly captivating us in its exoticism – and, brushing at some notsomethings on his tie, coughs out, “I’m sorry, valued viewers, I was then momentarily held by an overwhelming sense of my own permanence…” But, fairly instantaneously, he straightens out the wiggly Self, puts a finger on his earpiece to better take in his (doubtless fitting) superior – carries on with the show:
“Criminalising 60% of people under 30 doesn’t seem like a good thing to do,” bemoans a some slightly rarer party sentinel as a seven-fingered cannabis leaf jumps into shot behind this rage-inducing scarlet X, which morphs, I think – though amn’t certain – into a truncheon just above the anchor’s right temple..
“Shepherd moiling away,” remarks Moses from the armchair, robbing me of verification.
“Eh, wassat?” Dom. But the TV drones on.
“Back here in the studio we’re entertaining a lively debate on medical cannabis legislation between the actor Weafer Buttle and biologist and essayist Dr. Clitus Baak. Weafer, if we could begin by you? Good afternoon?”
Cut and zoom as the camera finds this board-creeper pouring violently fizzing bottled water. The simultaneous insertion of his earpiece is accompanied by a sharp blink.
“Good morning, Captain!” raves the yank, “I am acknowledging you.”
Reliefful, Anchor lays out his first for inspection: “Help us find the shame in legalising a weed, Weafer?”
“Firstly and foremostly, I need to let you all know – even though, y’know, I know I know just as much nothing as you, but you might not, so, yeah, keep it close to your chest, may? Let’s also say, in answer to the good question, that basically it’s all the Evil since Christ has to be laid at the feet of marihuana and all thems other druuuugggss that’re found most all across this free and clean nation of Ours! We’ve hosts of great folks and great freedoms and, of course, some fine brewskies down in the south of Ours! That greener stuff is outlawed, godtarnish it! And it all oughta be staying outlawed – as long’s it stays green, anyhaw!”
At this last, Buttle, who had been rising slightly out of consternation and chair, visibly settles, having dared uncork a massive and cathartic shite of mind.
“Dr. Baak, where do you grasp yourself fast in this.?” I think Anchor says.
“Well, stating here approaches to state policy puts me to serious moil, yeah,” the – whatishe:dutchflemish? – doctor will drone on in a tritonal English, tinseled coldly – bestrewn – by unaspirated ‘T’s and ‘K’s and overripe ‘U’s. “In my opinion it’s tricky to argue the case against banning outright the use of any chemical. Consider this analogy,” the doctor ruffles at his cheek, “Indole is a natural product of the amino acid tryptophan. It occurs in human shit, and smells like it when you have large concentrations of the stuff. But in tiny amounts, Indole has a flowery smell and scents beauty products throughout the world. Shit and perfume, even, are not distinct! That being so, how are we to know that the plants we choose to ban might not have untold potentials worth exploring? We can’t and wouldn’t and won’t ban the scent of perfume, and probably for better reason than the masking of armpit vibrations.”
- - Achieving optimal operating conditions for modern surgery relies upon the ability to paralyse muscle groups. The Amazonian hunting poison, Curare, served as the precursor for modern anaesthetics. Prior to the ‘40s the big risk was heart failure from too profound an anaesthesia. (Let’s cut more of the bastard down.)
- - For Andean Indians, whole coca leaf is the number one medicinal plant. They use it to treat gastrointestinal disturbances; specifically, for both diarrhoea and constipation. From the perspective of Western pharmacology, this makes no sense. Cocaine stimulates the gut, it increases bowel activity, so obviously it would be a good treatment for constipation, but what could it do for diarrhea except make it worse? However, if you look carefully at the coca leaf's molecular array, you find 14 bioactive alkaloids, with cocaine in the greatest amount. While cocaine acts as a gut stimulant, other coca alkaloids can have precisely the opposite action, they inhibit gut activity. This means that when you take the whole mixture into the body, the potential is there for the action to go in either direction. What decides it? The state of the body, which is a function of which receptors in the gut's tissues are available for binding.
- Andrew Weil, Why Plants are (Usually) Better than Drugs, in the Huffington Post
For some time, FairEcake has been that friend of ours who ‘always gets there first’. In spite of a past more immediately steeped in dentistry, his primary passion has long been the cooking up of multiform configurations and cousins of mindmoving, mindmanifesting plant compounds. In good stead the Flat found itself to explore the Outer Reaches indeed.
In one scene, a character – Jon Boy Jon – following some shock or shocking sound, should actually bring something back from the tryp, right there into the Living Room: Some kind of language-diamond, spinning on or inbetween his hands, and singing.
- - Crystals succumbing to kinesis begin their relocation to somewhere beyond his blood-brain barrier, Jon Boy Jon follows, with wild, dreamer’s eyes, the end of his pipe which, for those looking on from behind the objective pane, remains stationary. And into the kitchen commotion comes moments later, since, eyes of glitter, legs akimbo, roaring out this primal chorus, Jon Boy has managed to bring something back from the Dome: Revolving between his hands, a luminescent vortex – some kind of a language diamond – is singing to us, repealing banks of division through song, and not until it evaporates does it become plain that we have been beholding this music, that these Protean strains were painted not on silence, but on light.
A section where an ill man is cured by writing/speaking and being understood by another rare – that is to say, literate/fluent – member of the tribe. An onlooker – in some way language deficient (illiterate I think: Contrast his lack of faith in symbols with his faith in orally-formed acoustical pressure-waves), common obviously at the beginning of a language-development epoch – scorns the successful transmission, refusing to believe written symbols could carry meaning. Dad. Contrast also with the very real and pertinent information carried by exopheromones – and with the scorn held for psychedelics, another medium for data transfer: Crick tripping on LSD when he saw the double He..
- - 1846: Philadelphia: Joseph Leidy finds Trichinella cysts in his pork dinner and hypothesizes that trichinosis is caused by consuming undercooked pork. However, scientists disregard his hypothesis. Fummo.com.
The populace is like an engine that’ll eat anything: Chuck in a piece of fucking total rot - like Gulags, or Torture, or Mysteriously Collapsing Megastructures - and the Big Mouth will burn it up and shit it thoroughly out with total calm every time (providing the really gory pictures are never seen).
LSD is probably the first sacrament to be renounced by its own religion/people. (Previous cultures have presumably lost sacraments due to geographical or climatic programs.)
This second day of March, smoking by the canal-like inlet which accesses the open ocean at the edge of Phuket town, next to a trawler lashed to the island’s tip and listing starboards in this calm, halcyon repose in the shallows, seeing the wavelets cast in the wake of a passing longtail and their breaking against the banks of the channel, the notion that perturbation illuminates boundaries comes to mind. If you want to know the topographical “limits” of the situation, cast vibes into the information field and observe their kinetic fate.
In watching, I soon realised the more significant point, that in this Chiropteric fashion one can, by careful observation of the psychedelic perturbation of mind, pick one’s way out of Plato’s Cave. It turns out, for example, that this inlet is not walled in: There is open water, and, strewn across enormous stretches of ocean, archipelagos of great wonder and beauty, doubtless inhabited by local peoples with access to hard-one alien lore and bowel-blisteringly fine cuisine.
Piggy little Nazi English.
Eager, meaning sour/bitter/acid/sharp, e.g. That’s one eager vino, man.
Within probably quarter-of-an-hour or twenty minutes he would’ve lived out his phant-asies and -asms. By now? 12 hours-and-a-half-or-some later? Impossible to say just how everywhere he very probably is.
- to a friend, on a tangential friend’s death.
…all those books lawyers need (to know what Good is)…
Favored truths to be challenged! (A revamping of: Bring out your dead!)
Clouds purpled by collapsing evenings...
Mountain, engorged with jungle, blue with distance...
“Bowel-blisteringly good [cuisine].”
She specializes in catwalks…
…[harbouring] caterpillar fantasies about post-larval life…
- Post-historical state
“Pretty savagely lampooned...”
I’m looking forward to seeing if I can have him pretty savagely lampooned.
Oh, I’m Confident He’ll Be Pretty Savagely Lampooned By Those Fukking Pigs.
I wage he’ll be pretty savagely lampooned on Finnegan tonight.
“A language-using species hurling its instruments towards the stars…”
- T. (on networking!)
- Syntax-wielding primates..
Pouring sand into leather is exercise..
“...there’s pie in my laser.”
Poor chicken kept the birthday pie he’d baked for his chum in his pockets while LSDing, thereby screwing to buggery his beloved laser pen.
And we don’t mourn the Suns.
Atoms of you, stardust.
“...a well-meaning arsehole...”
Carlin, Death (and romanticised memories of its victims)
“...a warrior who needed a fair wind...”
уроды – ugly creatures (?), Russian
“It’s the business of the future to be dangerous...”
Alfred North Whitehead
...and we’re doing good business.
Being endlessly cross-legged and breathing is such [an ontological] cop-out that a stone-casting part of me hopes that there sits somewhere a wrathful Buddha who sees.
- - Or is it that ultimately escape velocity requires this concomitant severance to being experientially, emotionally and critically present in the world; these monks may not be getting into the moment at all, they might be ceasing to identify with this frequency, this moment, altogether – the rubber must leave the runway after all.
Our future camping trips will be to the hearts of roundabouts.
- thatisnotfuckingcamping
“The blue-blooded are, my dear fellow,” he jowls over to his immediate right angle/90˚, “simply those cunts who’ve still still more than the rest of us…”
- Grizzling about the mafia
Sexuality, the arts (particularly in education), nature (particularly each other), psychedelia/consciousness, religions and each other’s religions and not having religion, food, education, health, truth, history, the law, the cerebral cortex… all of these breached, compromised by the culture. What did they leave out?
- In every single area one cares to consider, the energetic adventure is trivialised, corrupted, bought (and sold) off.
- …racism, sexism, egoism, classism, organismism! I mean, it just becomes absurd. Has become absurd. Even linguistically, the life-path isn’t making a great case – organismism?! Whoever spied so barmy an iridule.
We crave a paradigm-shattering Nessie. (i.e. Loch Nessie)
- The question is not, Are these – or any of these – conspiratorial, New-Agey, hug-thy-neighbour, elven, metaphysical, extra-Newtonian claims of UFO, NDE, DMT “true”, it is, Why the hungry claims? There yearns in this [eschatological] shockwave a profound discontentment with material certainty.
Real journalists – real questioners – are a higher level in the infantry than me, a mere teacher, in the sense that they’re more likely to be killed doing their job properly. I suppose, in the end – if not already – the Man will have his minions absolutely at the gate of every piece of employment. These imps want anything but your striving for excellence in real education, real communication, because it ultimately provokes an army, the natural immune response to an evil Big Man Plan.
- - A distant time in the Corporate Belly, and finally – after a long period of dead – the journalists, the question-askers, actually band, decide to clap well slow – slow gospel slow – following the reptiles’ failure to actually face a fucking question. Finally the journalists shame big companies into some self-reflection. [Perhaps it ought to be a nuclear question/environmental question.]
- Should the fucking media get the credit, after their long helping keep these cunts in concealment?
You fall suddenly into the [corporate] guy’s fucking thoughts, like the mirror-water in that fucking well, or face-pool t’ing, in Harry Potter. And he’s feeling so far from himself, so fucking cold, far from the core, that he chooses the conflicting-contract-of-interest over the planet’s worth of ‘conspiracy’ junkies. The apocalypse I feared. You feel every vibration in this guy. His face-pool is mud-coloured, the core-self being pretty much obscured: A dull throb is beamed yet through the muddy night; only the denser vibes down in the bass ringing on under the fog. You, lying in bed, nearly deaf.
Commenting on a story about a guy who can only fuck with a gun to the head of his partner: “What a pessimistic bastard.”
People ought to realize that anybody who can so unerringly choose to make war, and in the process kill scores of hundreds of thousands of sons of sons of sons, is not to be trusted in any circumstance: That such a demon could possibly be expected to have the interests of ‘his’ local populace at heart is laughable. And anyone entertaining so fucking a fantasy deserves everything the alphas can dream up. (Poorly or untested vaccines, for examples, being accepted whilst millennia-year old, deeply-understood remedies become outlawed: Those accepting these untested drugs are the true new-agers. Sometimes it is saner to remain the conservative..)
“I blow(s) moils near everytime.”
- - A glassblower, on the rims resulting from accident-riddled blow-molding.
[…] An extensive line of research conducted by Hasher and Zacks has demonstrated that automatically (i.e., outside of conscious awareness and without engaging conscious information-processing resources), individuals register information about the frequency of events. Moreover, that research demonstrates that perceivers do that unintentionally, truly "automatically", regardless of the instructions they receive, and regardless of the information-processing goals they have. Interestingly, their ability to unconsciously, and relatively accurately tally the frequency of events appears to have little or no relation to the individual's age, education, intelligence, or personality, thus it may represent one of the fundamental building blocks of human orientation in the environment and possibly the acquisition of procedural knowledge and experience, in general.
- - Unconscious processing of event frequency. Can we infer that societies – and that history – also process event-frequency unconsciously?
- Procedural knowledge is that which is “exercised in the performance of some task”. It is “nonconscious” and “simply something that one does…” – Wikipedia.
Abuela - Spanish - meaning grandmother. Moniker for the spirit of the vine, the spirit living in the Ayahuasca trance.
Miração – a term employed in Brazilian ayahuasca churches to denote intoxication by the tea. Rafeiros – Portuguese for stray dogs.
Spring-Heeled Jack.
Thank you for being you. [We all play our brick in the superstructure.]
- - You are the most important. No one else gets a look inside your reality tunnel – that’s why reading each other’s books and hearing each other’s tunes is so endlessly fascinating. Likewise, the spider in the corner has a point of view which you can but add to. It’s a harvest of experience. Experience, then, is all you’ll have (and all the Man wants from you – both the Big Man, and the Don).
Proof of the fractal: we ants can contemplate the length and breadth of these billions-light-year-long dimensions. Further proof: Life endlessly chews on itself, endlessly emerges from itself.
Beneath it all, the bass-thumping hum of the universal engine – a gargantuan, ever-so-slow-twisting engine, so massful that the most leisurely revolutions are capable of the creation of mammoth energies. We, frequencies, sunbathing many octaves above the infrasonic hum.
Life wheel is streaming currently shaped in a ‘boot in “Wo/man’s”, or “Life’s” face forever’ in terms of a snapshot from epochal/long egg-timer perspective. But it’s constantly altering – it’s cycling through various smooth pattern alterations, as a laser of light (or EM or whatever) burns. For example, from the boot -in-the-face-thing, we’re all – Little Dots making a swarm – cycling into a pattern of total openness/randomness/novelty (an evolving/revolving stream of energy, when viewed a) from a distance, and b) Totally). Life is described best as a radio wave burning between points. (In superspace).
Electric stream – the varying wheel/shape of energy. Like an etchasketch, constanty recylcled into new forms, always smoothes from the previous shape, when beheld from far enough away. This Life stream is so powerful – powered by a very slowly revolving coriolus-effecting-situation, like a slowly -revolving drill – grinding out massive energies, owing to Serious Mass rather than speed – in our timeframe, anyway – mayflies that we are. Interestingly, it will be found later that everything is also burned off into superspace as this Slug moves along. Evaporated energies steam ever so epically – epochally – out of the back of a rocket flying along in 3D, to cycle and condense later on; a slug’s slime drying and dying away behind.
- - What we are is a Slug, moving along something hyperspatial, leaving a trail of slime behind, which rhythmically, perspectively, disperses, eventually leaving nothing. An awe-full brushstroke across the celestial sky, across the comfort blanket of a Star Maker concealed by the glare.
Life is a light show, powering communication, energy, etc., from one node to another in a circuit of an infinitely higher set of dimensions; a being powered by cells a trillionth its size.
- We are to the Universe what cells are to us.
- - Beings have a plasmic core and a more solid crust, just as the Earth has. Similarly, the Sun’s hotter core suggests some sort of relationship thusfar not really acknowledged: Planets are simply stars that have already cooled sufficiently for their skin to form; and we animals, with our warm centres – the centre that’s gently roasting those lungs and livers and so on – reflect these stars of whose uncuttables we are composed. (Regarding the star/planet relationship, it follows that the Sun, though temporally better entrenched, is, in macro-evolutionary terms, Earth’s younger sister – yet to flower, to sprout skin and fur, yet to atmosphere.)
Take, by way of further example, rage. An initial, bright, hot rage will dissipate, will fade smoothly over time from the highest initial conditions to distant memory (it is not as if, following some provocation, one feels an insignificant initial rage response which is then followed by spikes, erratically experienced, in the following days or weeks! The experience is the plasmic core, the dulling memory the thick[ened] skin).
“Breaking down doors to see if there’re drugs there.” - - drugsmind protester, or copper? Or both, severally?
- - Soon we will all be hallucinating and attacking each other with knives. (Robbed from a Dose Nation invective.)
- - We’re not sure if reality or hallucination are generated by Mind. They’re linked in this way too.
“Escape” – an odious attempt to describe people’s choice to embark on the psychedelic path. Exploration would be a better definition. Escape is your not permitting yourSelf even once to be sucked into the yawning singularity behind the curtain.
A ban on sandcastles. (Malcolm Tucker on Julian’s latest policy ideas.) - - Note, this actually happened in Western Australia some months after “hearing” this joke on The Thick of It. At the beach, Western Australia has banned ball games, kids with their nipples out, and digging in the fucking sand.
- - That toplessness at the beach has the power to topple the infrastructure of American society is testament to her childish, face intolerance of the world. A culture painted white, weak to the core, weak enough to fear women having the courage even to be unabashedly, indefatigably physical – a basic property of being 3-D.
That two people might agree on a thing is plausible; that two people might agree on all things is improbable; that all people should agree on all things is the aim. Think again: Go to yourself for original details. (It’s the safer bet that people will look to themself for Truth – if it even exists – before everyone agrees on deliberately corresponding/correlated arbitrary ‘truths’. Thank God for that, but.)
‘Consensus’ is only slightly less thin than individual subjectivity in terms of the data path traced across reality’s Tee-Totality. Strange we make it such a beacon.
Someone talking about themselves, or a friend, who took the grants of a government reserved for the reduction in poppy/coca/similar sales, and perfidiously sold off wares to the black market anyway – serious profit, perhaps prices go up owing to [prime minister’s] ruling on such grants.
- - Pushing incentives up to four hundred dollars an ounce.
“Most other states of melancholy were not considered illnesses in Japan. Indeed, the experience of prolonged, deep sadness was often considered to be a jibyo, a personal hardship that builds character.”
- - Before they named us all depressed, med-requiring arseholes. Big Pharma harm.
2 planes, 3 buildings.
Kenosis – meaning ‘self-emptying’. Christ withdrawing the deitic luminosity for the benefit of the disciples’ eyeballs. Is it, like, an empty your ego and become some kind of a vessel for others to gain from.?
Examine the polygonal artwork of the Coricancha: Hatunrumiyoc.
Alan Watts and Terence McKenna mention the deficiencies or “ghosts” (Watts) in language; if language does intend in turn to make a conquest of dimensions – into the visual, where we might “regard” (McKenna) each other’s opinions in 3-dimensional space – as our senses have done and do, surely we should be hallucinating by plant and any and all other indispensable means, practicing the new language ahead of time, thereby getting a feel for this fresh method for the exchange of ideas. We have tools, and mainstream myopia. (Incidentally, many fuckers in society, along with laughing at the possibilities of psychedelica, simultaneously tout Evolution Theory – supposedly primitive, villainous-low-foreheaded ontologies are tipped up in an all-seeing wake, etc..)
- - (Summarising the above:) Let’s Stay Playing This Shit Game Over and Over Again!
- Annoying child at party/politico
- - Eckhart Tolle on the crazies, the world poisoners and so forth:
“They embody human unconsciousness.”
This isn’t a judgement, just an observation. Prior to this he mentions that “fighting madness” begets madness, i.e. you will be drawn into madness/unconsciousness if you put your energy into fighting it.
(Nothing can exist in isolation – especially from its opposite; it follows that creator and created cannot be distinct, distinguished): The really far-out souls are not the psychedelicists and the gurus and the Christs realising they’re God and always have been, the edge-runners are those souls who have forgotten their origins so thoroughly that they play roles high up on the tight-rope: Tyrant; politician; serial murderer; warlord. Don’t shout up to them, though – it’s not sporting, you might cause them to lose their balance, their poise.! Person/Personae/Persona – people are really masks, actors in a fucking strangism.
- - In a way, someone like Obama wields very little power. In reality, a person like this follows corporate decree unswervingly. (Far-out soul.) Obama restricts his own will, his self-direction, by playing the Washington game: He cannot simply do; rather, he must act as he’s been directed to act by nefarious others. By rebelling against the lightest insignificance in yourself, you prove your superior self-direction: By choosing not to brush your teeth this morning, you wield a more awesome force than the most “powerful” leader in world history.!
According to the Boese book (Elephants/LSD), leaving one’s beliefs behind is so psychologically traumatic that people choose, instead, to convert others to their weirdnesses, thus salvaging a bit of pride, and approval (though from whom – oneself, or one’s society it’s hard to say). (The book notes that a cult expecting the world to end is disappointed the morning after ‘armageddon’ – but only briefly: As predicted by the researcher, the cult’s followers couldn’t jettison the belief-system, and so tried to convert people to it in an attempt to justify their continuing (skewed) view of the world.) Even when confronted by proof of the intellectual folly people will continue in it. So what use would argument be other than to further legitimise this folly? Ha! The lesson here: Keep it schtum!
“To be conscious is not to be in time...”
- - Eliot, Burnt Norton, Four Quartets
There is really only one thing going on (in the thinking), and that is the inexorable freeing up of Self. In the unthinking, the thing going on is the obsessive drive to survive.
“Ah! what boldness (they show) for the Fire!“
- - Qur’an, 2.175 (Yusufali); (alternative, Shakir, “How bold they are to encounter fire.”)
- - On those “who conceal Allah’s revelations in the book and purchase for them a miserable profit.”
- - Unrelated, but from the same book: “And from the fruits of the palm trees and grapevines you take intoxicant and good provision. Indeed in that is a sign for a people who reason.” (Note: “…people who reason: – also, “those who are wise”.) Arabic: 16:67 ومن ثمرات النخيل والاعناب تتخذون منه سكرا ورزقا حسنا ان في ذلك لاية لقوم يعقلون
And so the Anglos have been in Afghanistan for 30 years, have fought 3 wars (one of them covert) in that time. And in that same period of time, opium production has risen astronomically. It doesn’t really get any simpler. Quotes from the article Can Anyone Pacify the World's Number One Narco-State? by Alfred W. McCoy, April 2010:
“…three Afghan wars in which Washington has been involved over the past 30 years -- the CIA covert warfare of the 1980s, the civil war of the 1990s (fueled at its start by $900 million in CIA funding), and since 2001, the U.S. invasion, occupation, and counterinsurgency campaigns. In each of these conflicts, Washington has tolerated drug trafficking by its Afghan allies as the price of military success – a policy of benign neglect that has helped make Afghanistan today the world's number one narco-state.”
“These three eras of almost constant warfare fueled a relentless rise in Afghanistan's opium harvest – from just 250 tons in 1979 to 8,200 tons in 2007.”
- - Is this the Timewave resonance of the Opium Wars? If the Angles were forcing the Afghan farmers to grow poppy, you would probably see a production increase just like this – a 3,280% rise during this Anglo-occupation/war-funding, -mongering; an average increase of 117% every year – that’s more than doubling every year for 28 years..
“Cannabis has been found in every materia medica that has ever been written.”
- Dr. David Bearman, M.D.
- - It’s just that every culture was/is wrong about the properties of this plant. Really, it’s purest evil.
“Marijuana, in its natural form, is one of the safest therapeutically active substances known to man.”
- DEA Administrative Law Judge Francis Young’s judgement on Alliance for Cannabis Therapeutics, et al., vs. US Drug Enforcement Administration (IRS).
The Report of the Senate Special Commitee on Illegal Drugs from Canada in 2002 concluded the following;
“No mental pathology directly related to the overuse of cannabis has been reported, which distinguishes this substance from psychostimulants such as MDMA, cocaine or alcohol, heavy and repeated use of which can give rise to characteristic psychotic syndromes. Similarly, cannabis does not seem to precipitate the onset of pre-existing mental dysfunctions (schizophrenia, bipolar depression, etc.).”
- - On schizophrenia being caused by cannabis. (Where is the rise in cases of schizophrenia? The recent (and considerable) rise in use of this weed we should have brought a concomitant spike in schizophrenia cases and treatments. And there is no such spike.)
Cannabis use may result in: asthma relief; migraine dissolution; easing of epilepsy; metastasis suppression and anti-tumor effects – in the lung, prostate, thyroid, breast and brain; slowing of AIDS wasting syndrome; general analgesia; anti-oxidation; muscle relaxation; anti-spasmodicism; arthritis dissipation; relief of systemic lupus and "a whole host of conditions we don't understand very well"; combating insomnia and Crohn's disease, and on, and on, and on...
Hospitalisation due to alcohol use has shot up 70% in the last decade in the UK.
If you read the Bible in English - you’re self-lobotomising yourself.
If you take LSD - you’re damned to Hell forever.
USA
- 1 person arrested every 18s for drug violations – about 1,752,000 people in the year.
847,863 arrests for cannabis (1 every 37s), of which 89% (754,600 human beings) were for simple possession.
- 250,000 Americans spent time in jail for possession of cannabis in 2008.
(Anon. blogger – “America, without a doubt, is the war whore the Bible warns mankind to watch out for.”)
- “Marijuana causes white women to seek sexual relations with Negroes.” – Anslinger urging Congress to illegitimise po. That’s what you’re supporting; that’s what you’re defending.
...You think relaxing with a splee is a timesink.? It’d be moot if you’d get off your sofa for the average of 8 hours America spends per day in front of the bastardbox. TV is the true demotivational.
Something I’ve noticed is a widespread, pervasive fear of pause. No one ever lets ideas come to them – certainly not in the office: It’s made explicit by people that the proper approach is to shit out prim timewasters on cue, no matter the inevitable weakness of the results. It’s probably considered lazy by the cuntfaces to fucking just kick back when you don’t feel like moiling, when you haven’t the in-spiration.
Are prisoner’s denied rights to internet access or not? Is this even lawful? How could it be lawful, bearing in mind that to rehabilitate presumably requires one to educate in some form? The internet is probably the learning tool. Surely denying a prisoner internet access and a public voice is fucking Neanderthal stuff (or later a bit). What we want is more of this multifoliate, transforming vision in which we all bathe in the LOOSH/LUV we're here to share.
- - If it must be a choice, keep freedom and rid thyself of fucky law.
If one classes insanity as expecting one’s habits, routines, cravings, sufferings, or private mutterings to flip on command, what ought one to call having this expectation of others?
- On plant suppression/intimidation and incarceration of humans
- Having said this, there are no “wicked” people, only people who don’t love themselves yet.
- The solution to all problems is cultivating self-love. - - Dan Schreiber
"No evidence for any increased risk of lung cancer occurrence in association with cannabis smoking alone..."
"No overdose potential."
Sativa: Latin – useful.
“Telling the truth about marijuana was fifty times more grievous than possessing the substance itself.”
- Marc Emery on old Canadian legislation against distributing literature about cannabis resulting
in an hundred thousand dollar fine (the plant itself only incurred 2,000 dollar penalties).
“…When Bolivian tin was in its boom, [coca] was used by the US industry and at that time the United States was encouraging coca production so that the miners – the workers – would consume coca leaf to help them extract tin to be sent to the United States. The best producers of coca leaf at that time were given awards – this is documented. And I continue to be convinced that cocaine and drug-trafficking is an invention of the United States, and with that invention they have been able to create this war against drug-trafficking. Capitalism lives from war. Capitalism needs wars in order to sell its weaponry. So, this is not an isolated drug issue: It goes to the very interests of capitalism, and from the pretext of fighting drugs they establish military bases. It’s political control and leash-domination that they want. It’s the new colonialism.”
- Evo Morales translated, Bolivian president, Democracy Now!, April 23, 2010
- - Two from Fredric Madeleine from his 1988 book The Drug Controversy and the Rise of Antichrist:
"Although some have suggested that the use of illegal drugs is sorcery, I suggest instead that control of drugs is part of a system of sorcery, re-invented by the corrupt minds of men in high places.”
"Sorcery is a religious system of control and exploitation which operates by restricting knowledge of and access to drugs to a ruling priesthood. This ruling class uses its secret knowledge not to protect the people and culture, as is supposed, but rather to maintain power and to exploit unwary believers. In order to maintain power they must institute certain laws, called taboos, which prevent the common people from gaining free access to certain herbs, drugs, and knowledge. In order to maintain power this ruling class must eliminate those who do not believe in their power or submit to their rules. It is this system of exploitation and control that is referred to in the Bible as sorcery."
- Chris Bennet, in light of the Madeleine above, on the obvious Drug War/Big Pharma hypocrisy espoused by the faithful jackals: “Is it not sorcery for a nation to fight a self-righteous "drug war" where millions are pumped up on Valium, Halcyon, Ritalin, Prozac and other mind-numbing substances, not to mention killing themselves with cigarettes or getting as drunk as a teenage Stephen Harper, but pot smokers and mushroom eaters are viciously hunted down and their lives destroyed? Clearly, this is not a Drug War, but rather a religious war, this is a war against plants, mushrooms and cacti, this is a war on humanities indigenous relationship with those plants; this is a war on Nature.” From the article “Saint Stephen and the Theo-Cons vs. The Devil’s Weed”, Cannabis Culture.
When researchers electronically stimulated the part of the brain that feels pleasure, they found that the rats on unlimited junk food needed more and more stimulation to register the same level of pleasure as the animals on healthier diets.
– Rat/junk food study (normal diet, limited junk food diet, and unlimited junk food diets compared. The junk is actually eroding something in there; or the pathways are becoming too often exposed to the flush of endogenous morphines. Gabor Mate could expound.)
- See Gabor Mate.
Politicians bleat about how legalising plants “doesn’t send the right message (to young people)”. What about this message: Here’s Truthout on Obama's sanction-waiving of Chad, Somalia, The D.R. of the Congo, and Yemen, all of which employ child soldiers. (Contra., by the way, to his senatorial stance as well as basic ethics..)
The waiver, issued quietly this week, was another example of what some diplomatic analysts consider to be Obama’s pragmatic approach to foreign policy. But a number of human-rights and international-development groups say the waiver sends a bad signal.
Those who have not undergone necessary, periodic ego-dissolutions – and in particular, those who speak out against them – tend to be the most terrified. They’re the kind of reactionaries who might respond to a forecast (and minute) drop in their obese annual bonus by slaughtering a million-and-a-half innocent civilians. Any potential threat to the ego, no matter how inane, is vigorously resisted. On the other hand, those people who undergo the merciless destruction of boundaries tend to be the most accepting of life, of change, and of this magnificent suffering Something surrounding us.
- - Egos that have not been regularly, or at least semi-regularly, dissolved, prodded, perturbed and generally experienced have a much harder time dealing with events, moments, life. In the case of somebody like a president, the ego is never challenged, and thus constantly terrified at the prospect of being challenged. The resulting boundary-defining acts of murder, mayhem, brutality in reflex response to challenge – or perceived challenge – are not incomprehensible, then, but positively expected of a soul who’s boundaries have never melted away. Where a mushroomer might only blanche, a politico might mow down a hundred thousand sons of sons of sons.
- Acknowledge that our boundaries are not only arbitrary, but provisional, and provincial.
God may not play dice, but dominoes. (Sets the thing rolling, but is more intrigued by possibility than destiny.)
...individual, like saying a word is separate from a sentence. The sentence is clothed in flesh, the mind naked, there being no ambiguity in visible language.
- - A person's opinions only mean anyt'ing in context; you are not separable, like some Newtonian algorithmism, an isolated instance of aberrant behaviour.
I had a thought the other day regarding that last part about how we are One. I've long troubled myself over this notion: I'm obviously boundaried by skin, cut off from you. And yet, like words in a sentence, a single human life taken out of context has only so much depth and meaning. Instead of isolated words, the human sentence is the thing to keep in mind; the illusion sways you when you stop enjoying the story to constantly look yourself up in the dictionary.
Experience as well only means anything when placed in context: A person's ideas, opinions and so on only mean anything when seen inside the human sentence, the Story, where they can rub up against differing ideas and experiences. Therefore, you are not separable, like some Newtonian algorithmism, an isolated instance of aberrant behaviour. You are the other me that helps me see.
We are triangulating on Infinity, so we need at the very least several billions of sources for this, the mighty task of observing the Whole.
You are no more than the sum of those experiences which happen to come to you, or you are a reflection thereof. Thus you are no further from the world than you are from your opinions. You are the world.
The corollary to infinity in the human world is that the sum of human intelligence, wisdom, art, etc. cannot now be possessed, held, comprehended by any single person. We each understand miniscule portions of the big picture: We are, therefore, being no further from our thoughts and opinions as we are from ourSelf, parts of a greater whole - The Human Venture.
- - In Lak'ech Ala K'in: “I am you, and you are me” (a traditional Mayan translation of their greeting). I am another you.
The me and the you and the body
Watts – “The Universe ‘I’s” [where “I” is a verb. In spite of the myriad forms of life, there is, then, only one subject. You can be sure that many “I”s will follow this “I”]. Nothingness is a bounce! We bounce off nothingness back into amnesic subjectivity. We are not aware how we grow ourselves, just as we are not aware how we fuel the stars. We die so that the I can once again be beset by the “blooming, buzzing confusion.”
Youtube blogger: I suggest everybody sees this [Roland Griffiths TED lecture]. I had a grand experience at Schwagstock where Hindu deities appeared on the melting cliff walls. I was the universe, and the universe was me. The truth was everyone is everyone else's someone else.
- - 'Oh poor baby, baby needs a body... what? I thought you knew baby... there is no body... there is no you... I am we, remember... you read all about it, baby... ooh... poor baby, baby needs a hand, baby needs a foot, too... what for poor baby... you're not very good at this dude... poor baby... '
“...baby needs a hand, baby needs a foot, too...”
http://www.erowid.org/experiences/exp.php?ID=74508
- - “What remains after the mind is dissolved?”
- - I could feel my soul swimming at the speed of electricity, like lighting through the sea until my mind entered into another body and I 'woke up' again.
http://www.erowid.org/experiences/exp.php?ID=65610 – salvia recollection. Do we take bodies to “wake up”? Is it just too amniotically comfortable in soulskin.?
After reading an article on 11/9 and gematria, I count my name. The full name comes to 224, the sum of 4 consecutive cubes: 224 = 23 + 33 + 43 + 53. Daniel = 45; Hutch = 60.
“Every action and feeling is preceded by a thought.”
- As a Man Thinketh, James Allen.
“You see how it all starts with the wheelchair.” Mind is primary.
- Thought is primary. It arises from a tension between perspectives/opinions. Being up at the front, where the elves scribble frantically away, ever preparing the next moment. Taking on this idea I actually felt like I could exit the whole shebang, but Amp sensed this – as did the wind and rain outside which whipped up when this came into my head – and called out my name to bring me ‘back’. The punctuating call of a funny frog outside inducing cascades of hysterics.
- Feeling the ceaseless aging, decaying, dying that is Living. Very visual, images of the fungus in all of us growing, maturing, and feeling the pulse of life. Those closer to the pulse end up inspired to join rock and roll bands, or dance, or generally be joyful.
- That the chain of Life is huge, and we hang on it as if wet towels, observing. At one point I find myself chained to this thing, felt the conveyor belt attached to my back. It is conveyed that it is a choice, to accept the opening of the mind, and that anything can be engineered from this position.
- Being inside a singularity, inside a freezing, globular moment, feeling that an eternity has passed since I left the cowfield, that this singularity is ramping up, each moment bringing about ever-increasing awareness. It is conveyed that there is a rule in place. [?]
- A female plant being is awakening. Her whole body starts to stir. We are pumping away, cells in the flank of some more massive being.
- Massive bass tones as the camera pulls back to reveal an even greater truth, that we are the slime inside a singularity, evaporating. That from this distance everything in our world is indistinguishable. And, pulling back again, you beg the camera not to show you the next perspective, fearing that your mind will rear up, incapable of even witnessing such a vision, let alone integrating it.
- That the absurdities that arise in Timespace are acknowledged between people. A couple living together for a long while notice the absurdities resulting from the friction which is responsible for consciousness. Younger souls mightn’t see these absurdities; wisdom, age bring about the necessary eyesight. Inside the singularity it’s building to the point where nobody shall fail to notice the absurdities following any elaboration of consciousness – the friction.
- The terrifying sense of responsibility that comes with being able to create realities with the mind. That a basic property of dying/life is that one will feel increasingly more blissful and will increasingly take the reins of existence – forever.
- A gargantuan harddrive thrusts forth an image, saying, “We have this.” A database that has gathered images of Earth; this image is from the ground looking past a small inlet, rivulet, behind a house; flower-pots, plants, visible before a clear sky and sunny horizons. Peace.
- I am the leopard. Octopoid, insect jungle cat. Lazing on a bow. A panther.
- A wet plant sweating, flourishing.
- That love is wanting someone to prosper before you. That if someone feels “that” way about it, there’s no reason not to hand it to them.
- A kind of machine with faces and appendages – both tool-like and non – sticking out and whirring and spinning away as it floats through some invisible medium.
We’re inside a goddamned atom, inside a goddamned organism. The octopus.! Mostly empty space - atom/universe. Stars and electrons both orbit their respective singularities/black holes at close to the speed of fucking light. I suspect that for the kind of infinite Godhood required of a God, every atom must open a door to another universe. Get me? Every atom around us is the black hole into another world of worlds. That would come close to the infinitude of a creator. If every particle is connected, furthermore, then every world might in some way reflect every other world in this, a dancing, rhythmic, drum-kit universe.
The universe was a plasma system. Like our Sun. It is obviously cooling-windingdown-freezingoutintolittleiceyearthymoleculardroplets. It is exhaling/inhaling and it is a Big Being. The big star Ooooooooooing out into droplets. And then the inhale/exhale begins once more. All blood flowing into inflating a tissue, massive tissue, that approaches a singularity of sorts, in terms of info. packed into the hyperorgan, or Universe.
- - On the big thought above requiring several howls, groans of Oooooooooooooo! Loudly, over the balcony following Haramein talking about the plasma rotation in the Sun/of the Sun
You’ve got to be with people now, experience others now while we’re thus splintered. You think you’ll somehow avoid the inhale back to the Big Sun? The Big Star? No, you’re energy, you’re not going to escape to anywhere. It’s unity once more for near a score billion years: A single Mind: You’ll get to be alone again. Aeonic time.
What an astounding thing is the voice! By what miracle is the hot magma of the earth transformed into that which we call speech? If out of clay such an abstract medium as words can be shaped what is to hinder us from leaving our bodies at will and taking up our abode on other planets or between the planets? What is to prevent us from rearranging all life, atomic, molecular, corporeal, stellar, diving? Who or what is powerful enough to eradicate this miraculous leaven which we bear within us like a seed and which, after we have embraced in our mind all the universe, is nothing more than a seed — since to say universe is as easy as to say seed, and we have yet to say greater things, things beyond saying, things limitless and inconceivable, things which no trick of language can encompass.
- - Henry Miller, The Colossus of Maroussi (1941)
The man who looks for security, even in the mind, is like a man who would chop off his limbs in order to have artificial ones which will give him no pain or trouble.
- - Henry Miller, The Rosy Crucifixion I : Sexus (1949)
Things happen or they don't happen, that's all. Nothing is accomplished by sweat and struggle. Nearly everything which we call life is just insomnia, an agony because we've lost the habit of falling asleep.
- - Henry Miller
Every man is working out his destiny in his own way and nobody can be of any help except by being kind, generous, and patient.
- - Henry Miller
The Happiest peoples, it is said, are those which have no history. Those who have a history, those who have made history seem only to have emphasised through their accomplishments the eternality of struggle. These disappear too eventually, just as those who made no effort, who were content to merely live & enjoy.
- - Henry Miller
I am an excitable person who only understands life lyrically, musically, in whom feelings are much stronger than reason. I am so thirsty for the marvelous that only the marvelous has power over me. Anything I cannot transform into something marvelous, I let go. Reality doesn't impress me. I only believe in intoxication, in ecstasy, and when ordinary life shackles me, I escape, one way or another. No more walls.
- - Anais Nin
We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are.
- - Anais Nin
Similarly, when people speak at you, they’re really speaking of themselves. It is all reflection.
For thinkers and all sensitive spirits, boredom is that disagreeable "windless calm" of the soul that precedes a happy voyage and cheerful winds. They have to bear it and must wait for its effect on them. Precisely this is what lesser natures cannot achieve by any means. To ward off bore-dom at any cost is vulgar, no less than work without pleasure. Perhaps Asians are distinguished above Europeans by a capacity for longer, deeper calm; even their opiates have a slow effect and require patience, as opposed to the disgusting suddenness of the European poison, alcohol.
– Nietzsche, The Gay Science
[Interestingly, I’d think this windless calm to be the Samadhi we’re looking for; finally to give up this ceaseless hankering for the next event: There’s only one event.]
It is not how things are in the world that is mystical, but that it exists.
- - Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. The extension: The fact of existence throws open any and all possibilities.
- Despite its glaring distinction as “the limit case for credulity”, Science’s Big Bang theory – the Universe having launched itself out of nothingness for no reason – can be usefully employed in questioning our assumptions of mortality: Even if you do go back to sleep in the nothinglessness once you’ve expired, who’s to say another singularity [astronomically unlikely, granted, but no more unlikely than the original (“and highly controversial”) singularity we presently find ourselves in] isn’t going to leap out of nowhere and set you/us off living once more.? In believing that an Everything came from Nothinglessness once, why cannot one expect it All again, and again, and back again.?
- Something out of nothing! That’s the thing that came to me yesterday: Something from nothing. That’s horseshite, isn’t it? Something from nothing. That’s not right, that’s almost surely horseshithe. Horseshire. There has always been something, therefore. (You can’t get the nothing from which you would make something – that’s point one: There is no such thing as a nothing. If, then, there is something, and there certainly appears to be something, there must always have been something, some pupal stage, prior to the something.)
It’s forever: That’s a scary thought. And what does that sound like? You’re living, alive, probably death is more like an energy exchange, analogous to trade, you’ll find yourself again carrying on, battling bad guys on a different level: You’re living forever, you’re falling forever, never reaching the sum, the end-point.. falling forever, never reaching.. Are we inside a singularity? Inside a fucking singularity would last forever, no? (Is our twin brother observing from a spacecraft and, like, aging more quickly than us, or.. watching us fall past the event horizon, or..?)
From the point of view of those left behind, dying looks like shut-down; but from the point of view of the departed, the flush of DMT potentially ushers you into the hallway of eternity, and be experienced as such. Lying quietly in the DMT realm there presumably exist other totally improbable tools with the assistance of which we jump into further landscapes. And as to the question, whether we are jumping back some-where, grasping at mnemonics, a snatch of evidence, a sweat-perished map for how to return home, or something like home, or whether we’re jumping onwards purely for the thrill – who can say?
What can be said is that life goes on – goes on longer than the average star on this planet at least (think of the drive required to overcome Newton’s 2nd Law for over 3.5 billion years without respite). In particular, the human venture, the ape adventure, has prospered since inception. The webbing between the claws has sloughed away – and cells/individuals have died, certainly – but the Big Entity has remained, has grown, has learned.
McKenna: “The foetus is sculpted out of death,” the example here being the formation of digits through the sloughing off of what was previously webbed skin webbing a claw.
We are sculpted by death not only in the womb, not simply throughout this seemingly solitary human life, but throughout eternity. This black hole in which we die forever, this is our life flashing before our eyes.
“The cult of political correctness dictates that we never point out that other people don’t make sense, so not making sense has become enshrined as a domain of cultural activity.”
- McKenna on pushing the envelope.
“Behind it all, the demons who do calisthenics in the angles of every room on this planet to keep it all from collapsing into a flat line.” – T.
This is the most limited form of existence you will ever know; you can’t be deader than this.
T., A.T.I.
And at that moment of secretion, bathing in tryptamines, the dream explodes out of the monkey’s head forever.
- On death being forever; on the DMT release that takes place during our finality
Is it possible to carve up Mind? By extension, is there such a thing as a dead mind, or dead minds (minds that have lived and loved and laughed)?
It’s definitely possible to separate bodies (we’ve formulated a strategy of splitting and copying ourself and, insodoing, conquering time) – but can minds really be split? Is it even accurate to use the plural? There is simply Mind singular, and shards of perspective strewn through Mind (that is to say, discreet organisms tuning in); stars peppering the heavens.
The Universe is a more friendly place than we have been told[…] Culture is institutionalised paranoia, and it’s very hard to decondition oneself from this[…] I think the essence of Taoism – and why its roots in nature are so powerful – is because what Taoism is saying is if you will quiet your mind and if you will pay attention, you will discover that you are supported and cared for by the dynamic of the Universe. This should be obvious by virtue of the fact that you’re even alive. I mean, how unlikely is your existence? I put it to you: Pretty unlikely! And yet, here you are. Well, do you just think it was the greatest series of well-rolled dice in history? That’s silly. That’s ridiculous. Probability would never have delivered us to this room this afternoon. Probability sculpted with loving intent has delivered us to this room this afternoon. Once you can sense that living intent and, you know, make it an object of familiarity – that is the antidote to cultural paranoia, and to the acceptance of your identity through imposed definition by other people. And of course psychedelics figure in here because they dissolve, more dramatically and more effectively than anything else, the cultural and linguistic and habitual assumptions that are masking that presence of Tao. You know it really is true, as the Bible says, you must become as a little child. That means you must become pre-culture; you must recover who you were before the engines of culture went to work on you, and abused you, and made you afraid, and dumbed you down, and distorted your values, and so forth and so on…
T., A.T.I.
I think what biology is is the intrusion into 3-dimensional space and time of hyperdimensional objects, and the other clue to that, which seems an argument for it, is that we do have this thing called a Mind, but we can’t find it anywhere – it doesn’t seem to be anywhere.
T., Appreciating the Imagination
Humans, to take Terence’s take from another writer, move rocks around. We change, shape, form, mould and remould forms we find lying around on and in the Earth. We are catalysts: If DNA can, like the jet-liner in the story, be randomly assembled by freak chance in the genetic playground, why can’t we say that humans do to a bunch of rock and metal what chance would do, only in a fraction of the time.? (Eventually it must be conceded, if we go by chance/probability, that given sufficient time any form could potentially be realised from Earth’s given materials by chance environmental events and so on.) We speed things up. But are we changed ourselves? It is pretty apparent that there have been no significant anatomical changes, even in brain size, in some 200,000 years. But change is characteristic of the province of the mind, a result of the driving force of its curiosity. Perhaps catalysts do change – not physically, but somehow a broadening must take place amongst the innermost files, the information gathered. We are, after all, witness to our creations.
- - Humans imbue change and complexity into objects, matter, around them largely without being – at least externo-physico-chemico-genetically – themselves changed. Mind, however, feeds on, never ceases feeding.
“[...] the thing becomes so odious, so clearly intellectually bankrupt, so clearly toxic to any kind of human values that any of us can relate to you, that you just have to put yourself on the line. And I don’t know when that moment will come; it’s not for me to say. I guess a switch will be turned in the unconscious – but there’s enough evidence of outrage and muddle-headedness and outright evil around that sooner-or-later we’re going to have to confront it otherwise, you know, this is a sinking submarine, and there is no way out unless people who really understand the gravity of the situation and the stakes make their voices heard. If we leave it up to the institutions that have been put in place over the last 500 years... these are anti-human institutions: These institutions hate the human race, hate ordinary people and until we wake up to this we’re going to be their victims: We’re the marks. Well how do you like being a mark? You can just take so much of that and you just finally have to stand up and say Enough! you know [...]”
- - Terence, on people professing respect for life while thoughtlessly supporting idiot policies – more specifically on the church’s condom/AIDS rampage in the name of being “pro-life”.
“We are born from fungi: 600 million years ago we separated from fungi. Fungi are our ancestors. We respire carbon dioxide – so do fungi; we inhale oxygen – so do fungi. Our best antibiotics against bacteria come from fungi, but we don’t have very good anti-fungal antibiotics because they harm us because of our close relationship.”
- - Paul, Opisthokonta, etc.
“...When I proposed that mycelium is Earth’s natural internet, I got a lot of flak [...] and I’m really happy that Dr. Nick Reid from Edinburgh and another group of scientists from Oxford came out with two papers this year [2010] looking at the mathematics of internet theory [...] and the structure of the nodes of crossing as mycelium grows, and, lo and behold, using the same mathematical formulas, they found that through evolution mycelium has optimised its nodes of crossing and the design of its networks to the same optimum that computer internet theory also is seeking. And so those two graphs actually fall right on top of each other and this is a series of astonishingly powerful papers that really supports my view. These are neurological landscapes, [...] we chose the route of going overground and inserting our nutrients in creating stomachs, and the mycelium chose the route of going underground and externally digesting its nutrients and [...] bringing in its nutrients through the cell walls [...] And as we go further out in larger and larger dimensions, we see these same types of mycelial archetypes throughout nature. Networks are resilient, they survive [...] catastrophism; they’re able to regrow and survive and that is the way of nature. And I have the sense that we’re part of this larger fabric...”
- - Paul, mycelium, networks.
The automatic editing functions on writing software impress sour habits on the fucking consumer, are a corrupting influence.. Spelling, creativity - all of it down the fucking drainpipe.
Our age: The paying back of freedom. Freedom blamed for sin: But freedom proves our Godhood, if anything. The question: Is it unrolling, is it deployed down an unswerving chute, or are we fucking creating it?
Totally improbable events might occur, as McKenna would perhaps have said, in points in time that are given to improbability. That is to say there could be knots in time capable of lending the improbable expression. More often than not, the temporal topography would disallow, for example, the words from my dream thence scribbled onto the beach. So whenever the nexus of improbability is accounted across the topology of time, space must bow to the weird.
“But one has to notice that [the encroaching influence of novelty - ?] is going on. Of course, the psychedelic community is very aware of this, because in a sense the business of the psychedelic community is to notice what's going on. But the business of a lot of communities is to deny what's going on – for example the political community. It doesn't lead us boldly into the future. It tries to deny that there is anywhere to go, and we should simply worry about health care maintenance, balanced budgets, and what’s going on with Arafat and Netanyahu.” - - Terence, interview with Bruce Eisner
The sparks and streams pinging off your back as you stand averted from the transcendental radiation burning and brimming over and behind you present as “reality” before you. Short turns upon the mystery can be made, as one can briefly turn the eye upon the Sun, but, like the Sun, you can’t stare into the mystery forever, “no human can” (T.).
- - Big thought (from Watts and probably many, many others): Is reality a mirror? Is it showing us what we are?
When did wo/mankind invent the mirror? Apparently, 6,000 B.C. (the manufactured, obsidian type), but we have likely been pool-gazing for aeons. Reality was, of course, the first mirror. But can this be generalised, spiritualised.?
Looking at the gigantic crab claw, steamed, and toothed, and ahead of me; being weirded out by the clawed/handed, teeth-in-the-hand/teeth-in-the-jaw little roamers roaming here in mellowspace. Definitely a reshuffling of the DNA language, a genetic punchline to our riddle: Crab... Human...
Indole-3-acetic acid, the universal plant growth hormone (cell divider and elongator), is usually synthesised by plants from tryptophan (but they’re also capable of producing it), and a couple of steps away from DMT, the universal transmitter/(teacher – growth in body and spirit).
- Note: Tryptophan is the only amino acid to be unambiguously coded by DNA.
Our culture: Save the foetus. But once it’s a person, forget it.
- - Paraquoting Dennis, “Defeating the Death Culture.”
If you have to have faith, have faith in yourself.
- - Dennis, Death Culture
Fight over eachother's eyecolours do you, too?
Fight over those books you've read and spread?
Fight over culture and football teams after brew!
Everyone's a dickhead!
On global warming: Why do politicians talk about a scientific consensus.? This is a paradox – consensus has nothing to do with science, it’s a political term. They’re Derren Brown-esque little tricksters, spinning your focus out into the boondocks – but I can see that cunt palming the cards in his youtube videos.
This tune is lean. It is so lean. So much ganja in this goddamn tune, there is. This is: The end spliff of the day, sun barely down, leavened rain lazy, descending, a bit of a dreamless snoooooozzzzze a-nuzzling and a-nod at your weary head, eyeballs all but an itch..
“...reality is relative to the vibrational density of the observer.”
- - William Buhlman, Adventures Beyond the Body
- The Amazon flows into the Rio Negro – each river is twelve miles or so across: Two giants coming together, they form a standing wave – a large bump in the river which you can sail along. A standing wave. Inteference pattern. It feels solid, can be interacted with, but is on closer inspection simply energy flowing every whichway, the ruggedness ultimately only to be cancelled out on our scale. So how are these walls “solid”? Well...
- From T.
(Also, what is perceived is determined by magnification. Buhlman and “the vibrational density of the observer…”)
This unfortunate, entangled young man [i.e. the Tsar], recognized as the leader of one hundred and thirty millions of people, continually deceived and compelled to contradict himself, confidently thanks and blesses the troops whom he calls his own for murder in defence of lands which with yet less right he also calls his own. All present to each other hideous ikons in which not only no one amongst the educated believes, but which unlearned peasants are beginning to abandon; all bow down to the ground before these ikons, kiss them, and pronounce pompous and deceitful speeches in which no one really believes.
- - Tolstoy, Bethink Yourselves!
The evil from which men of our time are suffering is produced by the fact that the majority live without that which alone affords a rational guidance for human activity—without religion; not that religion which consists in belief in dogmas, in the fulfilment of rites which afford a pleasant diversion, consolation, stimulant, but that religion which establishes the relation of man to the All, to God, and,
therefore, gives a general higher direction to all human activity, and without which people stand on the plane of animals and even lower than they. This evil which is leading men to inevitable destruction has manifested itself with special power in our time, because, having lost all rational guidance in life, and having directed all efforts to discoveries and improvements principally in the sphere of technical knowledge, men of our time have developed in themselves enormous power over the forces of nature; but, not having any guidance for the rational adaptation of this power, they naturally have used it for the satisfaction of their lowest and most animal propensities.
- - Leo Tolstoy, Bethink Yourselves!, ch.7
“This triple world is my own possession. All the things therein are my own children… the ten thousand things in this world are no more than the reflections of my own self. They come from the one source. They partake of the one body. Therefore I cannot rest, until every being, even the smallest possible fragment of existence, is settled down to its proper appointment… This is the position taken by the Buddha, and we, his humble followers, are but to walk in his wake. Why, then, do we fight at all? Because we do not find this world as it ought to be. Because there are here so many perverted creatures, so many wayward thoughts, so many ill-directed hearts, due to ignorant subjectivity. For this reason Buddhists are never tired of combating all productions of ignorance, and their fight must be to the bitter end. They will show no quarter. They will mercilessly destroy the very root from which arises the misery of this life. To accomplish this end, they will never be afraid of sacrificing their lives…”
- - “Buddhist Views of War,” by the “Right Rev.” Soyen-Shaku. This was a Buddhist monk in Japan, and what did he know, the wayward fuck.
[The Invisibles comic is] my attempt to explain what happened to me after I’d been abducted by aliens in Kathmandu in 1994. And the only reason I was abducted by aliens in Kathmandu in 1994 is because I went to Kathmandu in 1994 to be abducted by aliens.! And it works.! And these fuckers, they will turn up... And what they were was like silver – like those things you get in rave videos – silver, morphing, mercurial blobs of chrome that think... And they arrived en masse, and they look exactly like Terence McKenna described... And they took me to the 5th dimension, and [this] is outside space and time, and they explained to me what time is all about: The universe we live in is designed to grow larvae... They explained to me that, beyond space and time, we have our actual selves... what we experience right now are sections through time... your real body is a process that starts when you’re born, and it moves forward until you die... Seen from outside that is what you look like, you look like a gigantic centipede spread around all the things you always do... So these things said to me, “This is what’s going on. We use time to grow larvae because outside space and time you can’t grow anything because it’s timeless. Nothing grows.” What you want to do, if you want to make one of these higher dimensional beings (who’s actually us already), is you grow it in time, so you make a universe. And how you make a universe is you plug a little part of yourself into the information world that they live in... a sea of pure information... And they said to me, “The universe you live in, the world you’re living on, is a larva.” Every single one of us here is the same thing, there’s no distinction... we don’t understand what we are. And they explained to me... if you stick your hand through a 2-dimensional plane and there’s 2-dimensional entities that live on there, they will see four circles. Four distinct, completely different circles, but no, it’s the one hand. Everyone one of us in here is the same fucker: We’re all the same thing. What we are is intersections through 4-D spacetime... So this led me, obviously, up some very strange alleyways. And these things explained to me that... the universe is some kind of larval entity. What it does is it proceeds through stages of development [like a foetus in the womb]... And they said to me, the culture you’re living in understands it this way: phylogeny recapitulates history. So what we’re actually watching is this thing coming towards self-awareness and coherence in the same way that a foetus does. We haven’t even been born yet. There is no adult on this planet, there’s not one adult on this planet – which explains a lot.
- - Grant Morrison: Aliens, Magick, and Comic Books, from Disinfocon 2000
I would like to plead for my right to investigate natural phenomena without having guns pointed at me. I also ask for the right to be wrong without being hanged for it.
— Wilhelm Reich, Conspiracy: An Emotional Chain Reaction, November 1947
"Our age has seen priests of the mind teaching that gregarious is the praiseworthy form of thought, and that independent thought is contemptible. It is moreover certain that the group which desires to be strong has no use for a man who claims to think for himself."
- Julien Benda, The Treason of the Intellectuals. Note: For “intellectuals” Benda used “Les Clercs”, an older term denoting people who engage with thoughts instead of sweat. It refers to the imps of institutional defence..
The real nature of the human condition is that we’re all in it together. This is one of the reasons why I’m so hostile to all forms of spiritual hierarchy. I have never seen a truly superior person, I don’t believe - and if I have, they were so humble and self-effacing that they never would have claimed that superiority as their own. If somebody tells you they’re a superior person - my God! - they’re automatically to be taken off the “active” list! That alone screws the pooch right there! And it’s tremendously disempowering[…] Nobody knows anything you don’t know, and even if they do, it’s not your knowledge, so what good is it doing you?
T., A.T.I.
Every perception is a gamble.
R.A.Wilson, Politics and Conspiracy interview
- Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief, and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance.
- Everyone has the right to freedom of opinion and expression; this right includes freedom to hold opinions without interference and to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers.
Articles 18 and 19 from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
From 19, one ought to be able to receive information “…through any media…” – this, surely, includes psychedelic media
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? – Who shall guard the guards themselves?
- Juvenal, Roman poet.
Planetary steward/androgyne shaman...
“...We are ultimately malleable. We are like water. We take upon ourselves the shape of the container into which we are poured. And this is what history is - it’s the flowing from one container to another.”
- T.
David Mech of the University of Minnesota has been studying wild wolf packs since the 1960s. Mech states that in wild packs "dominance" displays are so rare as to be totally nonexistent. The only time they seem to take place is when a conflict emerges between the pack parents over how to disperse food to the young. The female invariably wins these encounters by acting as "non-threateningly" (or submissively) as possible. Rudolph Schenkel was the first biologist to ask the question, if the "submissive" wolf always wins, who’s really dominant?
- - Wikipedia referencing Mech and Schenkel on dog communication
Theta waves
Meditators have increased theta and gamma activity.
Salvanorin-alpha, a diterpene, antagonises only the kappa opioid receptor in the brain. Morphine, in contrast, goes for mu predominantly, but also occasionally binds with the delta (?) and kappa opioid receptors. According to Dennis McKenna, such unambiguous binding on the part of salvia divinorum’s active alkaloid is quite striking. (Salvinorin-A binds exclusively with this kappa receptor, it hits no other receptor anywhere in the cortex.)
DMT levels are highest in the cerebrospinal fluid at the same time most people are exhibiting high REM activity (i.e. between 3 and 4 am).
- And what about this stay-in-a-fortnight’s-worth-of-darkness-and-the-secretion-begins thing?
Four Essential Brain Circuits Concerning Addiction (cribbed from Gabor Mate)
- Opiates are effective because they lock into the same receptors as the endorphins – endogenous morphines. The endorphins have been called the “molecules of love” and connect mother to infant; they are also pain killers (both emotional and physical, seeing as the same part of the brain deals with both); and they also flood the brain during joyful moments. Mice bred in the lab to be opiate-receptorless do not feel any distress when separated from their mothers. In the wild this would lead to the death of the animal – not looking to your mother results in no protection, no nurturing, no food, and so on: No connection, no life. “The opiate addiction arises in the most essential brain circuit that we human beings have, which is pain-relief, reward, and love and connection, which is the essential dynamic in human life.”
Love; connection; reward; pain relief.
- Dopamine – the chemical that gets you moving, gets you curious; mediates attention to novel forms; makes you explore. New food sources, sexual partners; exploration. Without it we would be zombies, we wouldn’t be interested in anything, we wouldn’t explore anything. The stimulants particularly (cocaine, crystal meth, nicotine, etc.) – and the opiates to a lesser degree – “release dopamine in a major way”. When searching for food, dopamine levels rise by 50%; when seeking a sexual partner, dopamine levels double. A shot of cocaine will increase your dopamine levels by 300%. Crystal meth: 1,200%. The drugs are not addictive in themselves (not everyone gets addicted to food, for example, or sex, or meth): Too much dopamine (following the introduction of a chemical like meth) and your brain will kill off some of its own dopamine receptors. Stop taking the drug and you’re not getting enough dopamine from either internal or external prompting. It takes the brain a while to regenerate: In this period, you fall into depression. No vitality/joy/novelty chemical.
Incentive; motivation; vitality; curiosity; get up and live!
- Adrenaline – the stress hormone, fight-or-flight. Addicts are often easily stressed: Drugs are short-term stress-relievers. (Lacking the capacity to regulate their stress, addicts have to turn to external options.)
- Impulse control. The part of the brain that controls our impulses does not function for addicts.
- Those whose circuits have failed to develop are those that become addicts. Brain development isn’t complete at birth (large heads, large brains, digit-wielding hands, bipedalism, culture, and dreams mean we are all necessarily born premature in order to fit through the wombhole): Your environment shapes you, and so those whose environments burned out the circuits outlined above will be the people who require chemical assistance from their environment. Why should a seed grow out of a floorboard? These four circuits fail to mature in the absence of nurture and love.
- After 3 years of life, the brain is 80% the size of an adult’s, but the body is only at 19% adult-size. All this growth is shaped by the setting. The circuits above require “a non-stressed, emotionally present, constantly available, parenting caregiver” or they won’t develop.
- Monkeys’ dopamine levels fall within a couple of days of maternal absence.
- Rats whose mothers cared better for them – in a study at McGill – were smarter and less anxious as adults, and they had higher levels of endogenous tranquilisers (benzodiazepines). Brain chemistry “depends on the capacity of the mother to nurture the baby”.
- People whose childhood settings didn’t favour the development of these circuits feel love/curiosity/elation for the first time when they meet with external chemical assistance.
- “Trauma is passed on from one generation to the next.”
- BUT: These circuits can be rebuilt, even later on in life, IF the conditions are right. SUPPORT.
- “Addiction comes along when you destroy people’s way of life.” We destroy the Earth as the addict destroys the body. We don’t look at our addictions. Look at your addictions.!
Many of us in society are overworked and stressed beyond our means. I mean, we have to take holidays to enjoy ourselves.
Phil, blogger/commentator on a propagandising “mary-juana” doc. with that English doctor cunt who drinks too much but hasn’t the will to stop killing his liver.
“...Fully-realised, [the psychedelic experience] is not going to leave one brick upon another in the cheerfully naive edifice that our half-baked civilisation has erected as universal truth [...] Science is not going to be able to survive the encounter with the psychedelic experience, because it is not an encounter with the Freudian [...] repressed memories of your miserable and battered childhood, or whatever it is you went through, and it isn’t even the miserable memories of the battered childhood as a human species that we all went through, à la Carl Jung. That is all there, but that’s in the hallway where you hang your hat and the antechamber where they take your coat. The main event, folks, doesn’t even have anything to do with the psychology of human beings. The main event is another dimension, a dimension so bizarre, so titanically peculiar, so strange, so unanticipated by our language, our history, our literature, that it is literally like the discovery of another world. And there’s life in that world.”
T., Seeking the Stone
The streak of Milky Way in rural skies – our spiral arm?
…[Become] more incomprehensible to the machines…
- T.
- Are animals to plants what the A.I./computer is to animals?
Steve Beyer – Singing to the Plants
Compare blood and cholorphyll. Is it really just a magnesium group?

Into the aeon..

2010-11-22T06:27:00.000-08:00

Greetings from the Andaman cusp,

I hope you are well; I am fine. It has been some time since I sent out a communication to the gene-swarm. Attached here are some things that concern me day-to-day.

Life is finely fruiting, I am content to be content in the kind of peace that is at hand here. I have a renewed sense of the preciousness of this tiny little life, this multiform, suffering something surrounding us.. I look forward to natural things like rising in the total absence of alarm clocks, like revelling in the death of seasons. Clouds purpled by collapsing evenings. We are presently coming to the end of durian season, which is something of a household tragedy..! The king of fruits is doing a Persephone for the next 6 months. In his place will be the rambutan, the punk, but we are still some time away from the much beloved yellow mango. My body is in excellent condition. I take in no inorganic chemicals, no tobacco, no alcohol. I am muscle, and fibre, and plasma, and skin, because I don't let the weasels in. I look around at the people here, the uniformly perfectly formed Thais, and I rage within at how our culture could undergo so ignorant a gastric perversion, that ready meals and refined sugars could take the place of human(e) sustenance at the average dinnertable. How simple the pleasure in folk food.

I can dream deeply over here. And I don't dream myself at work, enduring some base harangue from an idiot boss, as I did back in the old country. I dream about Thai olives - which taste exactly like baked apples, something I've long missed - or I dream about hunting foot-high mushrooms with Amp. There are often local characters, who speak to me in Thai, and sometimes I can respond. A few months ago I realised I was in a dream, and I looked up at the sky exalting in its own aqueous, tryptamine hue, looked around at this universe, folded within my skull, and so this suspicion I have not been able to shake: (William of Ockham said that hypotheses should not be multiplied unduly) and so is it not more efficient to suppose that the world is made of Mind, just as dreams are? That they are reflections of each other? The architecture, after all, is identical: There is landscape, music, tactility, emotion, and, most obviously, these landscapes are both inhabited. If this is so, you can never be anything but "in mind". Because a set of tensor equations will never make sense of the world, and will never make sense to you, I put it to you that cognising reality must be a personal responsibility; those tensor equations aren't going to help you during the last dance - the only dance you have to take alone. You have to ponder the possibility that you are here, now, in mind, and that you are here to stay. Death, I fear, could be a fabulously provincial notion: You have to be prepared for the shock of your potential ceaselessness.

Creation, then, a function of mind: The notion of mind as epiphenomenon hearkens back to the Enlightenment - interesting spiritual terminology, by the by - a movement wishing to align with pure reason after recanting spirit, God, church. Obviously, after a thousand years of religious, political and cultural persecution at the hands of puritan England, it is understandable that spiritualism would be dispensed with for the time being. But we are mature enough now to see that Reason unleashed in the absence of ethics, in the absence of Heart, is at least as demonic as it is angelic. It is undeniable that there is something wrong with the world, and I put it thus: We have severed a connection to spirit, and we are mired in a technological hell because of it: A world where monkeys are hurled into walls at 70 miles per hour that scientists might better understand the "nature" of traumatic injury; a world where microscopic cameras are inserted into plastic penises so biologists can fully come to terms with the discolouration of the vaginal wall as women approach orgasm. Verily, we are dedicated to truth in all its forms: But basic morality, ethics, love - they are not here anymore. They are not, after all, reasonable. There is something wrong with the world.

Looking at history, and I do, certain coincidences jump out. The most glaring of these is the perennial philosophy, the notion that we are in some sense downloaded into matter, that we temporarily vibrate between given frequencies, for a given period, until some sort of a nebulous something, something like a Soul, detaches and returns from whence it came. It is so persistent and so old a concept - indeed, the oldest surviving concept - that every society save our own set their greatest minds to the task of decoding it. (In observing just how perniciously widespread this is, I'm reminded of that inspired suggestion from someone or other which runs something like, "Coincidence is that which is left over following the application of a bad theory"..! Indeed, scientists will tell you that spiritual concepts are simply delusions, hopeful wanderings of the imagination. But I put it to you here that it's nothing to do with hope, and that the average scientist has never given proper weight to what is being proposed: There is nothing more terrifying than the knowledge that you are forever, that you can't get out of it, you can't rest: You are in for the long haul.) I'm reading Graham Hancock's Supernatural at the moment. He quotes - at approaching embarrassment's length - one David Lewis-Williams, a South African archaeologist who, having studied San rock art and having researched the inherited shamanic practices of their descendants, the bushmen of the Kalahari, came to the conclusion - one which is supported amongst cave art researchers - that we started painting our visions on the walls. We didn't send the hunters or the gatherers to traipse all the way into the treacherous dark: It was the shamans, the medicine men and women, the healers and visionaries, who commanded the ink. It was hallucination, visionary reality, they sought to transcribe onto rock, simultaneously birthing in the process both art and religion. These two totally unreasonable disciplines are the attributes of humanity - as well as language - which speak most of the great schism between our own hominid line and all lines preceding us. After all, you don't see newts preaching about the "kingdom of heaven [being] within you"; you don't attend galleries dedicated to the impressionist movement amongst monarch butterflies.

Evidence has recently surfaced that our own evolutionary path rewarded the ability to function on a diet incomparably wider than all previous lifeforms. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teWngGuTNRA) I've read somewhere that there are some 3 million foods amenable to the human stomach: You've likely seen on nature programs just how closely tied organisms are to strictly limited culinary options, usually one or two foods. (And we're back to the ready-meals again.) In our case, we chose to code instead for genes that would allow us to take in plant alkaloids - i.e. toxins - without detriment to the physical vehicle, thus increasing both genetic mutation and our feeding options on the baring savannahs of Afrika. In other words, we developed the capacity to take in vision-inducing foods. It was a novel evolutionary adaptation in response to a drying African continent - the drying that thrust us out of the trees. Faced with a new environment, humanity chose adaptation instead of extinction. And from the foods that intoxicated us we started painting on the walls, singing, dancing, seeking out knowledge for the sake of knowledge, and generally doing that which makes us human and life bearable.

Now look at our present situation in the west. It is legal, indeed encouraged, for people to eat microwavable shite off plastic. It is encouraged, even written to work contracts throughout the western world, to take in toxins, such as caffeine or alcohol, that are not so reliably vision-inducing. [Alcohol hospitalisation has shot up 70% in the last decade in the UK, but this (rightfully) remains a legal choice for the individual; but cannabis - a plant which "has appeared in every materia medica that has ever been written" (Dr. David Bearman, M.D.) - remains irrationally and pathetically demonised by the "authorities" everywhere.] It is, then, "illegal" (whatever that means) to indulge the senses in the very adaptation that made us human in the first place. It is illegal to probe your mind with the help of plant alkaloid complexes, and there is a very good set of reasons for this. I see as co-tangent society's illegitimisation of human ecstasy and the callous and mean-spirited fashion in which we have unleashed across the Earth our unrestrained Reason. Reason unrestrained.. The result of our faith in a science divorced from ethics: Rainforests, developing for 220 million years, mindlessly chopped for furniture. A sea full of oil and chemical dispersant instead of 90% of the big fish. Is it coincidence that the very rainforests we once inhabited are now a focus for our ignorance? No, there is no coincidence. We hate the forests for having abandoned us. And we most assuredly resent our visionary past because, should we reclaim it, no one would fail to notice just how far from the path we have wandered, intoxicated by an American Nightmare, exported to all.

Science maintains that creation has no direction, or motivation, no intention, no intelligence. Nature is a dumb animal, like all the other dumb animals. But another glance at history immediately dissolves this assumption. There is a directedness to things. There is a quickening underway, and you must have noticed it. It took billions of years for the plasmic oceans to cool sufficiently that the first electrons could fall into stable orbits about atomic nuclei; following that, molecular biology was born aeons later; and then more quickly we see poly-peptide chains and self-replicating proteins. And then its simple lifeforms, viruses, bacteria, all in a few hundred million years; and hot on their heels we see complex life in a fraction of the time. And then within a fraction of a fraction we see humanity climb out of the great ape line, and then in just a couple of millions of years its Fire, Culture, Language, Dance, thence leading us to the breakneck pace of our time where it's all about Space-flight, Yoghurt, Telephones, Parody, Internet, Doublethink, Mapping and Manipulation of the Human Genome, Time Travel, Social Networking, Supercomputers, Large Hadron Colliders and the Singularity. When something speeds up it means it has a direction, a goal. There is something attracting it, just as coins spiral ever faster towards the holes in the bottoms of charity boxes. You can't speed up unless some force is increasing around you. And so it will be seen with this universe: A universe, according to physics, which is experiencing itself as a "random fluctuation" - the only random fluctuation in nature, you'll notice. Random. That's another concept that is used by science to justify a bad theory: I mean, have you ever done anything randomly? (If this all seems too remote, well, one can always revert to the crass notion that everything sprang from nothing in a single instant for no reason. (And even if this theory is "accurate", who's to say that you'll die only for another universe to simply spring out of you, eh? Given sufficiently aeonic slabs of duration, nothing is an uncertainty.)

They want you to believe not only have they mapped the territory, but that you should adopt every one of their maps, and that you are incapable of observing the ontological and epistemological topology on your own. Well, which culturally-sanctioned maps shall we pick? Religious persecution? Chemical warfare? The gulag? Nuclear armament? Reason has so much for us to choose from, you see, that it's easy to make a good choice.

But the difficult choice - the choice to go it alone and find some real data, data that will be pertinent to your understanding - is always the most interesting. (The universe loves courage, after all: Just look where I ended up once I grew a bit of spine.) Institutions are forever certain of their prescience. Remember, for example, when they said that if you read The Bible in English you'd be damned eternally? But institutions have not historically been the centre of intellectual or moral advancement: That always comes from individuals, from conscious manipulation of consciousness. And an expansion of consciousness here is certainly required; if the future does not admit such an expansion, what kind of a future will it be?

There are a lot of ways to think about the world. Why pick the way of some government-endorsed school curriculum, or from the evening news? It's almost always wrong, and very often the reverse of the truth. Embrace the reality of immediate perception, keep the goggles polished, ignore the propaganda.

It's all for the taking.

"Every action and feeling is preceded by a thought."

- - As a Man Thinketh, James Allen

Love, pax.. Out for now,

Danno

Primacy of Mind

2010-06-15T23:43:00.000-07:00

Where does the picture on your TV originate? Are there people living in the box making it shine? No, the box picks up a signal from an external source. Likewise, the brain could be a kind of antenna which reduces The Field into bite-sized human perception. If Mind were to originate separately in each individual, any kind of consensus on reality would be just astronomically coincidental: We'd more likely find ourselves living our own private dreamlets. In our isolation, it would be impossible to share our minds with each other; something clearly refuted every time you open a book, listen to a tune, have a conversation. Actually, your mind is a synthesis of those thoughts that have particularly tickled you. (My approach to tooth-brushing, for example, comes straight out of J's mind, which doubtless came out of some other mind, through another mind, ad nauseum.) Tooth-brushing, musical taste, language: All of these things are, at most, extrapolations from the human concert: Far from containing a mind, it appears I have no personal mind at all.

There are too many phenomena lurking inside this magnificent, suffering someThing surrounding us which brain-fabricated thought cannot explain. The psychedelic experience, for myself at any rate, is fairly conclusive evidence that, at least in the case of the monkey, the box is obviously too small to contain it all. J and I had a chat on the weekend and we were talking about shared mind: Everyday, my woman, Amp, finishes thoughts being beamed into my transducer; I'm sure anyone who has lived in someone else's pocket for any significant period will attest to this. How can this be explained save for the existence of some kind of Field into which we are all plugged.? Indeed, it's quite impossible to 'contain' one's mind - it's constantly spilling over into other minds: Look at mine pissing away all over the shop right now, for example, leaving dastardly images of the infinite in minds trickling throughout the Loop. I put it to you that you couldn't, for even five minutes, prevent your mind from driving the material world in some fashion.

Our culture's obsessive pecuniary interests require that we believe steadfastly in matter as the ground of being because it is engaged in chewing through every last granule on this planet in order to produce endless reams of material crassness that can then be hawked for profit. If we were to suddenly realise that we are all connected in and by the Big Mind it would be jolly tricky to keep up the pretense that, in raping the Big Mother, we are not raping ourselves.

A plant is a plant is a plant

2010-06-08T23:08:00.001-07:00

Writing back to my sister regarding my family's position on the psychedelic experience.

Yo, thanks for the reply.

I wasn't going to bother writing back because, having read your second paragraph, it sounds like I haven't put my position across adequately, so what further use could words be, you know? However, I came across this portion of a very late Bill Hicks performance this afternoon (listen from 3:40-ish if you want - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8XPYNiJApCs&NR=1) and found the parallel too uncanny. I was compelled to respond! If you don't want to bother with the video, he talks about the healing, visionary, mystical properties of the Mushroom and his frustration at his reactionary father for the topic:

Bill - Eternity and Peace and Heaven is our inheritance and all of us are going to make it there.
Bill's father - I'm not interested!

Please have a bit of respect for my argument. I have never advocated - and will never advocate - taking 'every drug under the Sun': I would never wish this on anyone, let alone my own kin. What you wrote was quite inaccurate, and frustrated me somewhat. I am concerned only with naturally occurring plants/fungi and their alkaloids. 'Drug' is not a word that enters the issue. A 'drug' is something that leaves you side-effect-ridden, or crippled, or both. A 'drug' is something that causes unexamined, destructive patterns of behavior.

The real topics of interest are cannabis sativa and mushrooms of the genus psilocybe. (Incidentally, factoid of the week: The word sativa is taken from the Latin for 'useful', because of the wide range of properties of cannabis - medicinal, commercial, spiritual and other.) The irony is that, you're totally right, there is nothing to say. There's nothing I expect said - I don't want you to rally, thoughtless, behind me for God's sake! But acknowledgment, on the other hand, is another matter altogether: Please consider this food for thought, that for years now I've been trying to bring some information to my family's attention and in each instance, without fail, I get nothing in reply. Nothing! I mean, I think I've found something worth devoting serious thought and energy to: From our evolutionary beginnings to our timespace conquest of the future, I might have found something that overshadows it all. And the people closest to me think.. Well, I don't know what you think - in simpler hours I assume you think me something of a twit, but seeing as I never hear anything back (save your e-mail) I'll never know!

If you had come within reach of something you suspected was the conscious human soul, would you not be making a bit of a stink? I really feel that if you look at the world, if you look at this dreadful, wonderful world, you can only concede that an injection of heavy soul could do our species some good.

I'm talking about having the ability - the technology - to probe some pretty dense topics here: Death? Time? Disease? God? Mind? World? Evolution? Society? It's all on the table awaiting review - if you only wish to be seated.

That's all I'm really trying to say about this stuff. I'm glad you found the Afghan article interesting. The Afghanistan/Opium-CIA/Cocaine information is important to look at because it goes a long way to show that the legislators behind the repression of the psychedelic experience actually have no qualms whatsoever with people ingesting substances - harmful or otherwise. They don't mind your getting sick. However, they certainly do mind your making forays into the Bright World, in case you return from it safe in the knowledge that you are, and you will always be. And there's nothing you can do, nothing you would do, to change this magnificent, suffering Something surrounding us.

Now, if that news isn't a hazard to society...

!

I'll leave you to it.

Always love,

Dan

My God! I love everything

2010-06-08T22:58:00.000-07:00

Amp and I returned to the field, collected another basket of fruit and, on the Friday night of a 3-day-weekend, I filled my little belly. Not having any kind of scales, and the weather being too cool and humid to dry the mushrooms anyway, I settled upon eating as many as I could. I got through nearly two bowls, and had to stop for being full, which seemed to me a sensible marker. They ranged from about an inch to ten inches in size, and I probably ate upwards of 75. It was intense: Hadn't eaten all day; followed them down with a gargantuan spliff to still the stomach acids.

The (t)rip itself. I found myself in the presence of a female plant, slowly becoming aware of herself. Sweating in her opening. Flexing mechanisms inside her as she stirs. Then a scene from behind a house, a tiny inlet running behind a kitchen window, plants in bowls, hanging, and the distinct impression that some alien and mind-bogglingly broad data-gathering harddisk had summoned this for me. "We have this," it said, as if rounding up visions of our world for cosmic storage.

Being shown how indistinguishable It All Is when viewed from the perspective of an endless mushroom. And then, accompanied by massive bass tones, the camera pulls back yet further, and you're reeling, thinking, "Please don't show me anymore!" - the perspective becoming so wide that, far from the mind embracing it or no, the problem is comprehending it in its vast and terrible beauty in the first place. The first time I've fought my mind against incoming information. The first time I really felt my curiosity might disembowel me, leave my psychic viscera swaying beneath.

A being, some kind of hyper-complex poly-engine replete with faces, demons and a variety of machine tools, all of the features spinning and whirring away frantically. Close, very close, to the elves who scribble away at the frontier of mind, penning the next moment to be beheld by your perception. (I actually heard the pens scratching away.)

Inferring that 'enlightenment' is merely a choice: Open up your eyes and see that you have the means to fashion this Thing as you so wish. Or don't open up. I found myself on a chain - I felt like clothes hanging from a line, unable to do anything about it but observe: I got the impression that the only game there is is observation. I felt the engine running, felt myself pinned to it as the thing revolves on, going through its gigantic cycle. I was looking at all life from up there on the clothes line, with a mind that was not only perfectly functional, but perfectly aware of its primacy.

Primacy of mind: There is a joke that many people aren't in on. The whole of reality appears to come out of some understanding, some pact, that we don't mention the absurdity. That we ignore the initial friction that resulted in Thought. I watched Amp and I living a life together, becoming wise to this notion. I was shown that you can lend your support to the Illusion - the Illusion arising from this blinding friction - or you become part of the enriching process, that slowly awaking female plant from the beginning; examine how the energies you create feed the flanks of the Big Octopus we're all plugged into. As the mushroom showed me the absurdity I noticed how literally everything that arises in the Illusion - the friction that required mind in the first instance - becomes like an old piece of furniture: It all grows, decays. And those who truly come to enlightenment no longer complain about the frictions because, like scattered and aging fungi, all absurdity is to be expected here in timespace. Cackling about this, I noticed that the closer I came to accepting the Illusion of the world, the more the world tried to pull me back: So as soon as these thoughts came into my head the wind and rain outside suddenly started thrashing at the meshing, Amp suddenly started screeching at me to come back. All very eerie. Mind is primary.

Decay: Decaying - dying - is living. Those of us who have reconciled this rhythm of nature with our mayfly stories end up dancers, rock and rollers, and generally joyful: We have the terminal life rhythm inside us, and we flow with it. I experienced the growing and withering of a fungus, and how that withering Is you, and Is Life. Felt the withering rhythm hasten until it became a pulse, a vibe riffing. I felt that as 'the end' approaches, one's wisdom correspondingly increases. That no one dies in ignorance. That, in fact, the universe is rigged so that all beings may enjoy an endlessly increasing comprehension of the Profundity. And If you play the right cards, you can actually manipulate this into bliss, turn it into an asymptotic curve: A force that will infinitely and unceasingly rise, allowing you to create whole systems of worlds if it tickles you to do so.

Being inside a singularity. Indescribable really, memory being so fragmentary. Time spinning down; a freezing, silver, globular moment in which I came back; realised that, to an extent, a mushroom took me inside this place.

Outside, a gigantic, belching frog punctuates the jungle night. And, out of its throat, cascades of my hysterics.

"You're in the jungle yeah, kid!" the fungus reminds. The world is a jungle, there are so many lifeforms teeming for lebensraum. Try to get wise without getting infected. And there is an impression that viruses, and other kinds of software, are available, transmittable, in these spaces. I watch as an octopus-cum-leopard-come-spiderplant crawls into some kind of genetic wall. I think about symbiosis and fill out the next day being the leopard, the jungle cat. Lazing on my balcony during a thoroughly green day, gazing out of my introspection at impossibly high clouds, content to smoke only and ponder the small things.

I have tried to sum up a few of these visions; but getting information out of these places is fiendish. The business about consciousness arising from a certain friction and that most people are unaware that everything they whinge about must be a natural consequence of their being in the first place, this was so.. vivid.. so well implied by the mushroom's visions that it may as well have been presenting a lecture: The sequences of images were so meaningful.. But, I just can't grab back whatever it was that causes the friction in the first place: It's something to do with thought, subjectivity, the illusion of objects. And that once you start thinking you've got to be prepared to give everything up, because someone will have a harder time letting go of their mind than you will. Be ready to be charitable.

This is tiresome now, I'm sure. More practice is required translating these images. That's piece of news number one. Piece of news number two: The shamanic ecstasy delivered. It is both terrifying and electrifying; signs, as McKenna might say, of the enterprise's "existential validity."

Out for now.

Monkhood

2010-05-25T17:56:00.001-07:00

In order to get to Infinity, the mind effectively must still - trance, unbrokenly: Emotion ought to linear out into contentment (submission/ex stasis/nirvana/bliss/ananda/contentment) of and with life and necessary experience. This is the only way to trick eternity into being - feeling - simultaneously indefatigable (lengthy) and instantaneous (blown out before you planned on:) Or, the Paradox we're all looking at, to and for.

We're talking about continually recognising the real worth in accepting and working with whatsoever experience hunts you. The only fucking open window there is.

On, like, God, and is there One, and stuff..

2010-05-21T07:30:00.001-07:00

If I were an eternal personality, the most likely recourse would be distraction. Insofar as it might be possible, I would set about interspersing the vast continuity of my Self with other, playfully concocted and transient selves. In this way it would be possible to stave off the abject boredom the One may suffer inside endless, unperturbed Mind.

Put another way, would there be a difference between your current conception of the world and that of an infinite personality, disguising itself from itself? Ditch for a cosmic instant your indefatigable memory and become a goat, a dandelion, an oil slick - learn to marvel, cut off from your own certain immortality, inside the sheer inconsequence of it all. After all, how much housework are you going to get done if you're constantly reMinded how everywhere you very probably are..!

Every culture on Earth has persistently held the view that there is some kind of Mind somewhere that knows more than you do. (The religion of Psychiatry calls it the 'unconscious'. The most ill-fitting and naive moniker yet; almost as bad as so-called 'junk' DNA.) At the present time, I go with the majority - something I usually consider kind of despicable!

An excerpt from Monroe's Ultimate Journey. Waiting in line to offer gifts of Experience to the Source, he meets a gargantuan angel at the edge of TimeSpace, and is relayed the following:

There is no beginning, there is no end,

There is only change.

There is no teacher, there is no student,

There is only remembering.

There is no good, there is no evil,

There is only expression.

There is no union, there is no sharing,

There is only one.

There is no joy, there is no sadness,

There is only love.

There is no greater, there is no lesser,

There is only balance.

There is no stasis, there is no entropy,

There is only motion.

There is no wakefulness, there is no sleep,

There is only being.

There is no limit, there is no chance,

There is only a plan.

This is as we know it to be.

I would've capitalised the big nouns myself, but there we have it. Even the angels need some self-improvement.

Mushrooms on the Front Page..

2010-04-15T23:54:00.000-07:00

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/12/science/12psychedelics.html?ref=todayspaper

If you don't want to read it, a pertinent quote from the early paragraphs of this story, which appeared on the front page:

"Today, more than a year later, Dr. Martin credits that six-hour experience [with psilocybin*] with helping him overcome his depression and profoundly transforming his relationships with his daughter and friends. He ranks it among the most meaningful events of his life, which makes him a fairly typical member of a growing club of experimental subjects."

*Psilocybin is a four-substituted indole (the only 4-substituted indole in nature, I might add); a tryptamine, it gets dephosphorolated in the gut to become the hallucinogen psilocin, the principle alkaloid in psychedelic mushrooms of the psilocybe family.

Bear in mind, folks, that these favorable comments come from the New York Times, a fabulously fascist US daily, by Chomsky's very convincing arguments, anyhow. Now, if these weasels have clambered on board the mushroom float, isn't it time to have a look into the matter yourselves?

Terence McKenna, a writer, ethnobotanist, shaman and public speaker I have great respect for, said the psychedelic experience is taboo because, like sex, it reveals something about where we come from. Indeed, with the exception of sex, no subject has been more flatly closed to public discourse than the psychedelic experience. Regarding where we come from, McKenna argues that, being commonly found on ungulate-inhabited grasslands - i.e. the cattle populated African landscape our ancestors spent the first million years - psilocybin mushrooms would surely have been tested for dietary applications by early man. After all, if your bountiful canopies have receded, the food source decimated, anything resembling food in the new habitat would have been systematically tested. And anything carrying the clout of a tryptamine revelation is not going to go unnoticed.!

It is undeniable, and I've seen it again here this very week, that these mushrooms fruit from the dung of grassland cattle. Prior to agriculture, early nomadic hominids would have followed the cattle herds as a food source for the meat and milk: Is it even worth arguing that these peoples never attempted to inculcate this new fruit, the coprophitic mushroom, into their diet, strewn in the wake of the herd as it was? Still not convinced? McKenna also noted that he had observed even modern era monkeys in arboreal environments to leave the safety of their trees for the ground, only to gather certain species of mushroom! They never seemed to leave the trees for any other purpose. (I've forgotten the species of ape, now, I'll try to look it up.) Now, as a monkey, you seemingly have everything you need in the trees - you are not likely to risk predation by jungle cat or snake for a bit of fungus, unless its importance to one's diet is undeniable. Are we to doubt that early man was less vigilant, less curious than monkeys who haven't even made it down from their branches yet? I think not.

The gentleman mentioned in the Times article, however, underwent a very different experience than mere increased visual acuity, enlivened colour perception, or somatic arousal - all of which would have been important to a hunting, gathering species, incidentally. No, this guy underwent the full-blown Mushroom frenzy. And that is what society ought to confront: In high enough doses, psilocybin brings about all kinds of interesting pertubations in consciousness: glossolalia (speaking in tongues), which arguably led to rudimentary language in our ancestors; but, more importantly, contact with what McKenna terms the Other. I'm not sure what my term would be. Christ has been popular for the last two thousand years; God for even longer; people talk about UFOs these days. McKenna himself suggested that the Mushroom was so Other that it amounted to the extraterrestrial contact many have been waiting for!

Here is an excerpt from McKenna's book True Hallucinations, in which he recounts the message conveyed to him via psilocybin:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkqO9sdH6AQ

And here, a TED lecture from the mycologist Paul Stamets on other incredible properties of fungi. Worried about oil spills? Not anymore...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XI5frPV58tY

Doubtless, you're thinking something along the lines of, "Okay, you can write quite persuasively, but ultimately we're talking about getting stoned here, right? What a waste of time!" Fair point, I suppose. But I put it to you that humankind uses and abuses every sensation under the Sun to positive effect and negative - why should chemical experiences be any different? That human history can be described in cultures' various and varying relationships to drugs over time is obvious, from the Soma rituals of the vedas, to the Eleusinian mysteries of the Greeks, to the bullying Brits' opium wars to control the east, to the methamphetamine markets of today's underground, culture is driven by it's approach to chemicals. Consider the age we live in now: Nearly every chemical experience is banned (and propagandised against), first of all. Well, does that seem particularly civilised? That a person could be prosecuted for eating a fucking mushroom!! No, clearly we are dealing with a deliberate repression, the reasons for which lie partly in the taboo outlined above, and partly, I contest, because once you've been through the total perspective vortex, the sitting on a till of some supermarket that you might help prop up this outmoded, malingering age of vampiric capitalism is an act surely to be left way behind in your slipstream.

Number 2: All tryptamine hallucinogens are banned, and placed in a control group comprising of dangerous addicting chemicals without medical value. Well, once again, this is proven pure rot: The linked Times article is yet another piece on psilocybin's interesting ability to give people perspective and comfort during terminal illness. Furthermore, have you ever heard of somebody undergoing mushroom withdrawal? LSD, the semi-synthetic tryptamine and structural cousin of serotonin, was shown in pre-ban trials to be curing chronic alcoholism - curing - after a single 500 gamma dose in 50% of test subjects. One dose! Does that not smack of medical value?

Now look at drug use in our culture: You are not only able but encouraged to work your life out in order to purchase, amongst things of total inconsequence, vast quantities of alcohol, tobacco and caffeine. Is it not strange to think that every work contract in the western hemisphere provides for the periodic pause in labour where one engages in the self-administering of an addicting, stimulant drug? The coffee break! I wonder if I will ever see a cannabis break signed in to law..? (Well, no, because cannabis is like a natural, feminising vaccine against the spirit-crushing game show that is a male-run, corporate world: Hardly a perpetuating strategy for a dominator culture.) Seriously, though: Why are we encouraged to indulge in a certain drug at work, and certain drugs outside of work? Well, obviously, caffeine, the stimulant, aids you in maintaining pace at boring, repetitive and trivial tasks for hours on end, day after day. And alcohol, of course, enables us to blot out the vast emptiness accrued from years spent wondering just why we continue to turn up to the same idiot workplace under the same idiot boss. Alcohol, as well as caffeine, also gives us the excuse we (nowadays) need to engage in social intercourse - Would you like to go out for a drink? Can you imagine just how lost young Britons would be of a weekend if they weren't able to get drunk and screw and forget it all again before Monday rolls back up, at which point stories of tremendously painful mornings after accompanied by backslappings can be traded? People wouldn't be able to communicate without their drugs of choice. And make no mistake, we are talking about drugs here: It is not a 'hangover', it is a period ofwithdrawal. You couldn't 'do' with a coffee, you are suffering a xanthine craving.

Terence McKenna very presciently observed that 'culture is not your friend'. And I think it's quite easy to prove this, without straying into the domains of American healthcare, bank bail-outs, the Caucasian war machine, or even the 'War On (some non-prescription) Drugs': For example, did you know that cigarettes are radioactive? I've managed to quit, but the last of the radioactivity won't be out of my system for another 21.4 years or something. Now, how easy is it to pick up a pack of cigarettes in England? Why are these downright evil things legal? Where is the medical value in putting into your body a radioactive drug more addictive than heroin? Ohhh! But it's part of our culture yeah! It's simply what one does yeah: There are certain sanctioned - poisonous - drugs, your use of which will not incur ridicule or rebuke from your peers, but will perversely raise you higher in their esteem (much higher, in the case of your social superiors); but you should not put naturally occurring, mystical, soul warming compounds into you, because we don't have the language or the maturity to deal with them. And frankly, that kind of behavior will do nothing less than bring about the utter dissolution of society as we know it, just as giving women the vote did - or, but, hang on...

The question is this: How conscious are you willing to be? Are you actually willing to go through life without ever entering into the presence of the psychedelic tremendum just because some gangsters tell you that it's evil and demonic and against everything we stand for? Well, what do we stand for? We are killing Mexico, for example: Because people can't grow marijuana on their windowsill without prosecution, massive criminal syndicates control an underground market for it instead. People are still going to get high, they just have to deal with psychopathic street crooks to get there. Two generations of feral children in Ciudad Juarez is still not enough to convince people to rally in support of these poor folks, who have no other means of employment, their cities having been gutted by the cartels (see Charles Bowden's work on this). In my opinion, life lived in the absence of the psychedelic experience would be analogous to going through life permanently pre-pubescent, never having experienced sex. A perpetual caterpillar. Are you actually willing to let some coffee-drinking politician tell you that cannabis, for example, is a dangerous, addicting drug with 'no accepted medical value', in spite of wide anecdotal evidence of cannabis' efficacy in combating multiple sclerosis, glaucoma, nausea, rheumatism, chemotherapy side-effects, and even anger to name a few. What proportion of Saturday night town centre fights can be traced to cannabis intoxication, I wonder, in comparison to straight drunkenness? And yet, it's the same cannabis story in the 'paper every time, we've all seen it: Unequivocally, cannabis use results in schizophrenia. (In spite of no increase in schizophrenia cases over the last few decades despite a massive non-corresponding increase in cannabis' popularity.) I read the other day that cannabis actually alleviates schizophrenic symptoms, which makes sense - that's probably how the government linked this fabulous plant to the condition in the first place. Incidentally, you'll often hear Walters, the cuntish American drug 'czar' (what a socialist nightmare this truly is!) say that increasing numbers of young people are entering rehabilitation clinics for cannabis 'addiction' (!!) every year. In reality, when 754,600 or so Americans can be arrested for possession of a plant (for the year 2008) and then be offered the options of jail or clinic, the likelihood that all of the clinic's occupants actually have any interest in 'rehab' is pretty slim-jim. (89% of total arrests for cannabis were for simple possession in 2008 - not really going after the dealers, are they? One person every 41 seconds is arrested for cannabis in the USA. They're converting the next generation into a victimless-criminal underclass.) To quote an anonymous blogger on this topic: "America, without a doubt, is the war whore the Bible warns mankind to watch out for." The war is on choice, it is on Mind itself, it is a war on people, not drugs. If it were, they'd be locking up CEOs from every major pharmaceutical company on the planet.

Are you to settle for your own choices, or those of power grubbing barbarian liars? We are, after all, led by the least among us, and they do lie to you: Surely, you've picked that up by now. Well, theywere lying, at least. Maybe the New York Times is showing that cracks in the misery are beginning to appear.. If consciousness does not loom large in the immediate human future, what kind of future will this be? What kind of a mushroom is fruiting at the end of time - is it a hydrobomb cloud, or the beginnings of a doubt, that perhaps there really is such a thing as a 'magic' mushroom?

This picture dates to 5,000 B.C. and comes from the Tassili plateau in modern day Algeria; it's existence argues fairly convincingly that not only have we known about the otherness of the Mushroom for aeons, we used to worship that otherness, too:

Cursing the "Entry Director" (in Eighteen Beats)

2010-04-10T23:10:00.001-07:00

Cursing the "Entry Director"

or, A Kind of Beige-Furnished Fascism That Will Hardly Raise a Ripple

The belly of this beast is lined with sand
and, though I can just see the light,
I slep and slod to out of sight,
wistful for unregulated ground.

K

2010-03-22T18:44:00.000-07:00

This is a post from some couple or three years ago during a period of time in which I was experimenting with powder ketamine. What follows is my initial experience in solitude. A solitude that was not to last.
-- -  -   -     -        -             -                      -
Greet. A summary follows of my quest last night.

My band's rehearsal in Archway terminated at around 11 last night - salient point: We likely have a new recruit in this Colombian drummer who found one of our posters, and will no doubt prove legendary - and I returned to my parents' house to eat and sleep. However, I remembered that, tucked inside my copy of Homer's Odyssey was my remaining Ketamine, purchased from dear Craig over the weekend.

My indecision, having been weighed in the balance and found to be wanting, led to the following imbibing, and The K hit home swiftly, and forcefully - at the time I was sure it had managed to hack its way through my nasal membranes in order to more effectively coat my thin mind.. It was a mesmerisingly powerful experience, beginning with my crash-landing into The Great Vacuum I, lying kidney-shaped, suspended within the bowels of the Universe. A Floating Kidney. The following events comprised, more-or-less, of my relocation from the backroom to my bedroom - a journey of probably 16 seconds. During this period of 'lost time' I definitely died, or at least visited Hades, the realm of the dead. All prior human-based pandemonia were flung from my perception; I was no longer preoccupied with Self, and found myself part of a massive pinkish chain of Life, forever interconnected, Dripping Cubes.

Finding myself laying on these monochromatic, moonlit and melting cubes, everything I said morphed and would only come out as 'LOVE' - 'LOVE' - 'LOVE' -. I mean, I could not physically utter another phrase: I reminded myself of the Seraphim, devoted entirely to singing God's praises. Brilliant stuff. Every inhalation a total and utter un-creasing, every exhalation a hurricane of potential energy.

Then I hear insistent words, to the effect of, "Daniel, what the fuck are you doing?" I had HEARD that tone of voice before. "Everything is Blisssssssss", I'm saying, a gaseous snake in my throat elongating every sibilance, every 'S' lasting an age. "No, Daniel, it's not!" It then became clear: That's a human talking to me. My father in fact. I had fallen into my reverie on his stairwell - my 'cubes' - inches from his door. "You've been running about the house Screaming, grunting like a stuck-pig, this is NOT acceptable!" In time, I managed to mumble their praises and totter into my room where I promptly continued my daze unfettered by old people. I spent much time simply Being in my inter-stellar bedroom, closing my eyes and scanning the area through my eyelids.

I awoke to a message asking for payment of debt (£300+), another shoulder injury, and realised that I should have stayed in my K-burrow.

Anyway, that hasn't happened to me before, I just wanted to update you on my 'whereabouts'.

Stay crass.
  The Monoceros

Mock Tudor Vampire

2010-03-22T18:36:00.000-07:00

Mock Tudor Vampire

Receding, adorned with capes and cool,

into black we wail fast, like banshees.

Jack Gordon

2010-03-22T18:34:00.000-07:00

Jack Gordon

Covetous Billy, our blue-ey'd boy

stashing his skins away from Starling,

and emerging - all skin and hair -

from the girl in the well.

DMT Trip 1

2010-03-22T18:27:00.000-07:00

Dearest All,

The first I ever heard mention regarding dimethyltryptamine was from Morgan, Pete and Rix's old chum, and quoted by Pete some 4 or 5 years ago now:

'[Like] spiralling down a double helix into Eternity'..

Obviously, with a preceeding reputation like that, it's hard to get a chemical out of your head. I first took a hit of DMT with J and Craig about 18 months or so ago, on Moler's bed, and found myself propelled far - very far - but only into the void between galaxies. I could see them swirling, dancing in the distance, in the black; thus, I was still occupying a material position in the confines of timespace. And so it went - far, but not FURTHUR, to quote the Merry Pranksters.. I had a trial or two with some crystals furnished me by that dude with the hair at (my) most recent Jostock, but the material was wet and I idiotically rushed into the thing without fanning it dry. The dude took it himself on the morning after that particular 'Stock and ended up in conversation with invisible types just off to the side of the dead campfire. Watching J during the exchange is a fond memory: J watching this guy lose himself, not to mention the rest of us, in something that J, of all of us, had at least an inkling of an idea of.

A few weeks ago I began my experiments with the crystalline DMT sent via airmail to me by J. After making a lightbulb vaporiser, following a link sent again by J, I undertook a couple of fairly uninspiring forays into Hyperspace. I had thought that the lightbulb was simply too inefficient at getting the necessary molecule into the necessary antennae, but tonight my prejudice was thankchristedly found utterly wanting. After some funky sex with the lady I decided to while away a few moments experimenting with my pipe before the bplaa nueng manao (steamed fish with lime) dinner. So I loaded the pipe with a little more material, ensured that my modifications had resulted in an airtight fuck, and proceeded:

After an indeterminate period spent mostly adjusting my breath - and checking I still had it.. - I felt like I had shakily awoken - that feeling you get, when you look back on a dream and realise there was no scene change between speaking with John to rutting with Jane to discussing such-and-such with so-and-so, and so forth. There was no ending or beginning in the sequence that satisfies me looking back now. And so I found myself in Hyperspace - and I mean HYPE-ERR. This thing was large, presumably limitless, and spectacularly enlivened by multiform luminosities and illuminosities that brought about, initially, giggles, and utterings of 'Christ'. My immediate thought was, 'McKenna was right, he was spot on with the landscape'.. Something I noticed, even on the failed trials, is that it is not just tricky but IMPOSSIBLE to determine where life emerges from structure. The whole thing is either somewhere in between the two, somewhere beyond, or in another catagory that makes this tiny, tiny message obsolete. Anyway, the fact remains in me, life and landscape are indistinguishable to a human observer - much as our quantum physics would suggest even here, on this flat plane. And so, I thought to myself - even in spite of this insight - 'Let's get to brass tax, where in hell are these fabled 'machine elves'.?! And literally before I realised it, I saw them - they had been in my face all along, spinning vortices of bejewelled energies between their 'hands'; I began a fraction-of-an-instant's self-congratulation before shutting myself up, telling myself to respect the situation, and look and possibly learn about their doings.. They were seemingly showing me something, some manner of harnessing or manipulating - literally manipulating, from the French mains, 'hands' - light or energy: Whatever they had between themselves it was certainly non-material, some kind of leashed tornado of hyperpigmentation.. The implication of this is that we are capable of making sense of their behaviour: I find it hard to accept that they would be so involved in the teachings they are offering otherwise. There was no urgency that I could detect, which runs a little counter to McKenna's speeches. To my mind they were so aloof - intellectually, and I don't mean to say they were pedants, or preachers, or anything - that you may as well call them indifferent. We are simply not equipped with the necessary databanks required for full translation of the Flash - yet.

Coming down I heard the metallic sawtoothing, playboating sear of the elven language, and found myself welling up in gratitude that I, a mere nugget of flesh and mindfield - a mayfly - could find myself in the presence of such an awesome demonstration of Life's ability to grow and learn and impart and play..

I have a couple more doses left in my foil.. Inshallah I can offer you a few more tastes of my developing rapport with these gigantic Gods and Godesses of this thing, some kind of Pandimensional Maze of Light and Lights..

Journey well fellow prisoners of matter; I spunk fortune and focus at you.. The last thing I ought to say is this: We find ourselves part of a crew which has both the insight and the chemical capability to harness this molecule, in the form of J - that friend of mine who 'always gets there first'. I put it to you that it is your duty as a human to touch this nebula of frenzy - make a mindfucking with the elves - nothing further can then be asked of you provided you at least attempt advancement. (Incidentally, the idea that the DMT smoke is harsh is a fabulous myth that has somehow found a base - a voice, indeed many voices - in our subculture: Ignore the fucking bullshite you hear about this - halfway through the second toke it's a job to even feel your body anyway, so, you know, take Heart!). I hope to hear of your forays into the Big Realm; until I hear more -

Always love,

Monoceros