In Memoriam Thomas De Quincey
“The byproduct of love is drive”
When the Horny Ghost shits his pants and you're curious what the big bang might mean in provincial writing and how I manage the transitions between the various projects when it's all one and the same trickster god who doesn't exist and who plays with expectations from the sewing box of all the embarrassing psychologists who not even your aunt trusts.
Aunt Irmi.
But where are the Josephines when you need them?
Egon Ripper
So I peel, cut, cut out and dry the most industrious molecular grandeurs at sixty degrees in my darkroom, while I surf Worldpackers and really, really get the great desire to leave this stupid country for eighty or two hundred years to do something useful like teaching Indian children English, or giving animals in Cape Verde the feeling that not all people in this world are obsessed with being assholes.
And this or that eco and NGO project needs a slightly improved website, social media support and the rest of the time I write real stuff and kiss colorful, honest girls from eight continents. Now that's what you call a plan.
READ THE GUARDIAN AND BE A GUARDIAN
And then the first heatwave of the still to come summer strikes, puzzling timing as to how one could wrest the silence of the ants' excursion on a Monday, having a great time in the always open supermarket, watching them tumble in and wait and me right in the middle of it, it is quality of life, undeniable, one could do so much with the supermarkets.
YOU COULD SELL RESPECT AND INTELLIGENCE. OR MAYBE ALSO LOYALTY OR GLOBAL THINKING ON A SPECIAL OFFER.
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Then I'll have a little organic food while I watch the two big Bayb Boys, muscle-bound, Generation Fitness, both with leech marks up to the base of their necks, oh yes, power lovers and bandidas, so sweet, and chips and cheap drinks end up in their wonderful bellies and swim with rice cakes into lifestyle stupidity.
I am amazed, in love, again and again, existence is decoded, there is content for unbelievers, and the cards are played openly.
BUT X AND Y ACT AS IF THEY ARE CHINESE.
What use are circuits and wiring? The best thing to do here is to take a break at the trough of the hamster wheel. But the misanthropist in me should never be misunderstood. I am a person who likes to think and I like it a lot, I like it this way and also completely different. It is more surprising than hating. And I love the world because there has long been something that breaks up this matrix, confuses it. In an asymmetrical redesign.
And that's where I want to go, that's what I'm aiming for because of my newfound confidence.
Into a world without horse-drawn carriages
With free basics for everyone with.
In this deficient masked ball of reality that has slipped over the good things, I race towards the second age. Finding the secret door in the brightly painted wall is not easy.
I realize that I should and must renounce the horribly numbed laziness of thought and habitual crimes, and also confront them, unmask the world wherever possible. Mention the beautiful and the ugly in the same breath, emerge from duality and give words and images to the change. The backdrop of the past, fragile, almost helpless in its fragility.
My own is like the village that you have to leave because bad things happen there. Look in the graves. Live in cloud cuckoo lands and smile at the clown at the bottom of the ladder.
I PULVERIZE. MY MORTAR, MY BEING.
Setting is okay. It's not the great big one, but we a little like a yellow submarine. Without yellow. Thanks to Eternity for the pictures.
I feel like a sober, slow flood. I have often talked about these trips, are there any differences to the Flowers of the Earth days?
Self-confidence. Charisma. The whole thing is also a solve and coagula, an alchemical transmutation and research into how far one can combine hypnosis with transpersonal space in order to create oneself. This should not be understood as control, but rather as guiding the unbridled, making something inclined, and above all when one has shed one's skin, peacefully flowing into re-emergence, then it is sensible and rewarding to make the world as one pleases.
Because while our fitness bobos hope that leeches will tell us about the multidimensional, something is spreading, a kind of brighter, smarter, smiling world. And even if there are problems at the interfaces, something is moving like never before.
Even if democracy seems to be an interim solution, and police violence and authoritarian structures are resisting, it is an action related to the Tao, completely decentralized and intangible, and we are dreamers bound up in new values, while our chip washboards are bobbing around, schoolchildren in Carinthia are inventing solar suitcases and people like me are realizing that it is not only good for providing electricity, but also promises entire populations independence at a low price. Lights on, why wait for blackouts.
San Pedro is not that bitter, always these cultural exaggerations, mimimimi wherever you look. But back to the multiple images, to the balanced imbalances, my nakedness should not deceive, I am well covered. I think there are distortions here too that should be corrected. And with all due respect, in a world of green smoothies, wheatgrass powder and sugarcoated plankton flavors, cacti are almost delicacies without the bizarre smells of cucumbers.
For a long time my favorite poem as a child was the one by an unknown author, Zauberverslein:
IT WAS DARK, THE MOON SHINE BRIGHTLY, THE GREEN CORRIDOR WAS COVERED IN SNOW AS A CAR DROVE SLOWLY AND AT FLASH AROUND THE CORNER.
PEOPLE WERE STANDING INSIDE, SILENTLY ENGAGED IN CONVERSATION, WHEN A DEAD HARE WAS SKATED ON THE SANDBANK
AND A YOUNG MAN WITH BLONDE CURLY HAIR AND RAVEN-BLACK HAIR SAT ON A GREEN BOX THAT WAS PAINTED RED
NEXT TO HIM WAS AN OLD WILDLIFE, ONLY SIXTEEN YEARS OLD, WITH A BUTTERED SANDWICH COATED WITH LARD IN HER HAND.
I want to snow you into the world of this poem, I want to kidnap us when I act as Bunnygod.
From this good and evil cookie baking, look out into existence, sometimes with a little sugar from the moon. It doesn't have to be a full moon. And look closely, because the problem of the interface is a serious one.
Just as Mr. Boote in Green Lie with the stunningly delightful Evi Hartmann strolls around the topic in Austrian but positive terms that Taleb would be proud of, as is easy to find out in all the major languages if you want, you should not only take a close look at volunteering or integrate palm oil and the machinations of the corporations into your consumer behavior, you should also understand how strong and powerful you have become through those instruments that scourge and bind us when we lack sufficient initiative: Cheating and hacking.
Start times around 3 to 4 p.m.
10-15 g of cactus powder, on an empty stomach, in a half-darkened apartment with an outside temperature of 30 degrees. Creative, eco-social mood with a certain concern about being on the sidelines due to one's own path in life and not quite knowing how one could best and most sustainably change this in a positive way.
Inspired and relaxed, but not yet as successful and dynamic as I would like to fly through life. The goal of transpersonal searching could certainly be seen as a vision and connection with the bigger picture, with change. Turn down the doubt control a little, perhaps prepare for the next experience in community.
Musical accompaniment as always, and the usual suspects, such as Pink Floyd or The Doors. No overly high expectations of the strength and depth of the experience, more hope of regaining that certain something that I lost over the last year.
Mekalito is something new, something different. It takes me back to the times when I devoured Castaneda and my attitude towards it today is probably much more critical, much more scientific, more like a Huxley, whose Gates of Perception was created on this very mescaline.
These are the traditions I belong to and I must praise how new progressive movements are now dealing with the therapeutic and spiritual benefits and healing power of psychedelic substances.
All of this no longer happens only in the psychonaut's little room, but has the potential to transform our society forever. It indicates a recovery, a healing, a reinvention is my personal opinion and position, but if you ignore that, the transformative inner soul energy of these hallucinogenic substances is the great key to a future that is as great as it is valuable for humanity and this planet.
It is only being cautiously re-addressed and that fits well with the other currents in the flow of change. But it should definitely become an important building block of change beyond Colorado.
First breaks at 11pm and a small snack at Infoboosts about the Russian investigative journalist whose embarrassingly stupid arrest caused a small media revolt in Putin's empire.
And the whole extended success program from enjoying with all senses to the philosopher's stone in the brain.
The too weak psychedelic effect is more in the range of MMDA and is an interesting experience for the purpose of
Micro Dosing
Even though I expected something different, I feel very comfortable. I liked the feeling of water on my skin and the taste of the different ingredients from my buffet, which I had already tasted sporadically during the trip, intended for the time after the skinning.
Everything is in a fine flow, although I find the air and stuffiness of the apartment unpleasant, but I don't have a great surge of interest after a nighttime walk. The world hasn't collapsed and it's difficult to estimate how the intensity of the Mulzer trances will combine with the mild mescaline opener.
Music too, just everything was how I touch myself, how I like to perceive life, here all the important veils have been lifted, a little cleaned up. What's interesting is that compared to psilocybin, there is hardly any increase in sexual desire and interest. Everything is milder, even these precursors in me.
After the planned ritual draws to a close, I let everything sink into everyday life, and I leave a few question marks over the somewhat excessive effort. I emphasize the feeling of well-being once again. There are hardly any stars in the quasi-summer night.
I delved a little deeper into the Psychedelic Garden, which is not about sensations alone but about facts and connections, about a healthy and stable setting for ordinary tourists and backpackers in wonderland.
IT DOESN'T SUGAR-POLISH ANYTHING AND THE EXAMPLE OF SAN PEDRO ALSO SHOWS THE PROBLEM OF UNCERTAIN NATURAL DOSAGES, WHICH COULD BE REFRAMED AS HOW IT SHOULD BE. I SURF MEANWHILE GOING TO VARIATIONS TO AMSTERDAM AND BERLIN. SOMETHING IMPORTANT HAS FALLEN AWAY, THE FEAR OF THE UNKNOWN, EVEN IN THE MESCALINE PART THAT HAS NEVER BEEN FELT BEFORE, WHICH STILL REMAINS DISTINCTABLE, IT IS A COMING HOME, A VERY EARTHLY, FUNNY CARESS. THIS IS WHERE I BELONG. IT IS THE SECRET GLITTER THAT
Angels traffic jam
And we should devote ourselves to a psychedelic renaissance, yes, this is already happening, but there is still a clear lack of new, strong books floating around for a new, moving age of the transpersonal.
The new generations, the facts, the researchers are shining everywhere, it is open and honest, the first articles have appeared in every better media.
Over there, mushrooms are being decriminalized in state after state. The Netherlands has a new center that functions completely differently. Conducting and guiding a kind of spiritual awakening.
The world is of course still full of farces and swampy immorality mentioned before the trip. Destructiveness. In the psychedelic there is a cure for many, very many things in us and around us.
