Saturday, August 4, 2012

A Lady Wearing Dainty White Gloves

She's attractive. I wonder how her life evolved after that trip? I can see her hanging out in some coffee shop conversing with Jack Kerouac. "I wish I could talk in technicolor", she would tell Jack. Kerouac would answer, "I wish I could type in technicolor."


Rabbit dives headfirst down the rabbit hole.
Pokes his head out, looks at you and says..........

"Do you guys experience visuals that enMESH with your tripping mind, creating a structure made out of interconnecting, solid, metallic pieces that, while always entwined, move up and down and all around creating forms while still maintaining their interconnectedness? And do you FEEL this structure as it becomes you? And is it HEAVY like a visual carpet made of parallel bicycle chains? Weighty? Settling down like a twisting, rolling montrously half alive half machine THING moving and churning and creating objects out of itself?"

-A long line of tiny black cats were running in place as their furry bodies curved up a tea cup being lifted up by a lady wearing dainty white gloves.

“What’s going on?” the lady said politely, looking at her legs that seemed to go on for miles.
“Did you put something in my tea?” she asked, somewhat hesitantly.
“Who are you speaking to?” another lady enquired.
“I really don’t know. Who am I?”
“You’re you, dear.“ the other lady replied.

The lady with the white gloves dropped her teacup, and she watched it descend in slow motion, eventually smashing into the yellow tiled dining room floor. Instead of fragments of the cup’s fine china careening outwardly, the lady with the white gloves saw tiny, shiny hummingbirds radiating from the point of impact.

“Oh my,” the lady with the white gloves gasped. “I don’t think I’m quite right at all. What in heaven’s name did you put in that tea?”
The other lady answered, “Oh, you must mean the crystals of pure salvinorin that I told you to place under your tongue. Did you get an effect?”


The lady with the white gloves began twisting to her right, her body slicing away into anotheREALITY. Her outstretched hand pressed against a transparent membrane embedded with dozens of tiny black mice.
“Wow, woW, wow, wOw ,woW. I really need to get home."
“You have a new home,” the other lady said. You’re with us now. You can’t go back.”

The lady with the white gloves placed her fingers inside her mouth.
“PATOOUUY,” she spit, running as fast as she could out the front door of the other lady’s house.

The other lady walked over and looked out her window. “I forgot to get her name,” she said softly to herself, as she placed the vial of pure salvinorin back into its secret place.

-Dioxippus, here's a bus ride that will take us to nowhereland:

Ken Kesey is driving the bus – straight out of the Oregon State Hospital in Salem, OR.
Outside it's a cold 42 degrees Fahrenheit. There's a cloudy wind blowing. Red and purple leaves rustle along the side of the road which leads to the pacific coast.

Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassady are also on the bus. A lot of craziness is being generated. Craziness that begins to merge with the bus' rusty suspension. Crazy sounds and crazy beats and a crazy rhythm snake their way upward like a vibrating, slithering Rock n' Roll Cobra.

“There's a signpost up ahead,” says the grimacing, unibrow guy dressed in black and white, scrolling vertically.
Smoking a ciga.... NO! Smoking Salvia!


Ken Kesey's face smashes through the tripping bus' front windshield. But his face just keeps on going, joining up with other faces, other authors, other voices, all staring outwardly, all rotating around a central mass, all connected along the outer rim of a giant, semi-organic wheel:
dozens – hundreds – thousands of vacant, silent faces staring outwardly -- watching, guarding, rotating.

“THIS GUY IS FUCKED UP!!!” says the paramedic, as he rolls Ken Kesey's body over.

Kesey opens his left eye and looks around. The paramedic is stretched out like a kaleidoscopic butterfly. His flattened body is pressed against the earth like a biological peeling of some kind. Kesey then realizes the entirety of everything is likewise pressed into the topography of the landscape surrounding him.

The flattened paramedic looks down at Kesey's face and whispers, “Hey buddy. You're doing fine. You're going to be all right.”
Kesey, his heart racing, asks, “Who are you?”
The flattened paramedic answers, “I'm your salvia benefactor. I watch over you.”
“What?” says Kesey.
The flattened paramedic continues, “Look. We don't have much time. I just exited the year 2017. Some heavy shit is going down in 2017. An extremely advanced alien culture from a parallel dimension is invading the Earth. They're taking over all of the Earth's major institutions. They're inhabiting the bodies of just about everyone working for the TV networks, especially the news media. The announcers, the reporters, the stories themselves are being secretly manipulated, even faked, by an alien force. People gazing at their TVs aren't aware that the reporters are nothing more than
Kesey raises his head and inquires with a quizzical look, “Flickering pod people with phony affects?”

“Sshhhhhhh, says the kaleidoscopic voice!! I have to go now. The paramedic is reappearing. Good Bye, and please....
“Post it?”

And believe it or not, Ken Kesey eventually does just that -- in a prankster kind of way.
...emphasis on 'or not'.
But it's still all true