Saturday, March 17, 2012

Tripper Joe

Somewhere on this planet, Tripper Joe sits down to smoke a bowl of extract.

“OK, Purple Sticky,” Joe mutters to himself. “Show me the way.”
He draws in the smoke and slowly leans back in his chair. In just a matter of seconds, Joe realizes that the salvia is coming on strong. He watches as green entities splatter all around his peripheral vision. The green entities begin rotating and smearing out. Facial profiles start sprouting all along the edges of his bedroom's greenery grout.

“What the fuck?” gasps Tripper Joe. Anxiously, Joe presses his lower body into the chair, squirming, hoping that his butt-crack could clench the chair underneath him with enough force so that his body/mind wouldn't blast away into the eFFing Unknown.

Several forgotten seconds elapse and Tripper Joe is now dug deep into his seat. His arms flail around in front of his face, hoping to diminish the intensity of the visuals. His virtual retinas are in overdrive. He’s seeing it all in high resolution.

Now approaching him at a high rate of speed is the technicolor visual of a suburban house.
Joe’s body impales at right angles into a rapidly morphing, red-brick wall. Detaching from each other, the red bricks begin to individualize before spreading out into a vast, gently curving membrane.

Like a spanning umbrella, the translucent shell is now made entirely of pinkANDred plastic schoolgirls: all interlocking, all holding hands, all wearing identical checkered dresses.

Directly above the girls is a shell of male protectors: their arms now moving in unison. Grasping identical greenANDblue bLaster guns, the masculine multitudes aim their weapons at an unseen enemy.

"Cyclops, the Unseen Enemy!" he calls Himself, as his hidden Cyclops eye fires silverANDblack bolts of hot electricity towards the plastic schoolgirls. The bolts don't reach their intended targets, however, because the shell of male protectors use their bLaster guns to deflect the incoming fire. And on and on it goes, scene after scene, shell after shell, mere artistic demarcations between separate worlds -- individually composed, parallel worlds reaching into infinity.

Tripper Joe is now half-in and half-out of the chair; and there’s a small, glimmering spot of drool on his cheek. He mutters some unintelligible vocals into the darkness as the visuals draw deeper into his begging-bowl shaped retinas.

Red-brick beings are now clawing at Tripper Joe’s skin. They’re rotating around his body and saying things like:
“Why did you come here?”
“You’re not ready yet.”
“Go back to your world before it‘s too late.”
“..before it’s too late.”
“’s too late.”
“..too late, because now we have to offload your cerebral neurotransmitters.”

That’s what the beings audible-ize, and Tripper Joe hears it in his head.
But now Joe is gratefully coming down. Opening his eyes, he watches the red-brick beings wave goodbye like automaton, airline stewards. Quickly, they retreat into the gelatinous background of hyper-dimensional space.

A few moments later, Tripper Joe slowly rises from his chair. Giving the package of salvia a quizzical look, he wonders aloud,
“Cyclops, the Unseen Enemy??!"

Saturday, March 10, 2012

The Stream Entrant

The two agents stood silently over the patient's hospital bed. Let's name one of the men, 'G agent' and the other man, 'C agent'.
C agent looked down at the patient's face and asked,
"Who is this guy?"
G agent stopped writing in his note pad and answered,
"He's known as a stream entrant. Apparantly, there's a small community of drug users who go around calling themselves stream entrants. They claim to have been given instructions from the hallucinogenic plant, salvia divinorum.

G agent then glanced over at the other agent. "You've heard of salvia, right? You've seen the videos?"
C agent responded stiffly, "Yeah, I'm familiar with salvia."
G agent continued, "These stream entrants report seeing alternative realities and beings from other dimensions."
A smirk formed across C agent's mouth. "So what?" he laughed, "That sounds like normal druggy talk to me."

G agent placed the note pad in his shirt pocket. He then said,
"One of our informants heard about this guy writing letters to 'The New York Times' and 'The Washington Post' claiming that an alien race of interconnecting entities was getting ready to radically change the world. At first we tossed this in our fringe file, but about a month after the letters, we began to receive field reports from various nuclear silos. Maintenance crews were encountering small elf-like entities. They were connected together, like chains, throughout all the facilities. They seemed to congregate in areas where floors connected to walls, or where walls intersected with ceilings.

Wherever there was linearity, there were entities. It wasn't long before they were even found in the linear boundaries within the warheads themselves. Almost immediately, technicians began to notice that all the fusion material had been changed to crystallized silicon. Dozens of warheads were neutralized. We even started to get reports of the same thing happening in Russia, France and Israel."

The patient looked up from his hospital bed and watched the two characters conversing above him. He knew that whatever was dripping into his intravenous tube was causing major havoc with his brain's ability to function correctly. The characters' heads looked more like pixilated rocks than human heads; and there seemed to be a momentary delay between whatever they were saying and the movements of their mouths. The patient then tried to wiggle his toes, but he couldn't feel anything from his waist down.

C agent wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked,
"So how did this guy end up in the ICU? Did he have a heart attack?"
G agent looked over at the machine monitoring the patient's vitals. Then he said,
"After we learned about the nukes, we picked him up for an investigative interview. Well, during the interview, the dope decided to make a run for it, so one of our guys shot him. He was shooting for the legs, but the aim was off. Anyway, the perp was too much of a risk, and we weren't going to allow him to disappear back into the community."

While the two rock faces were still speaking their gibberish, the patient watched with fascination as little entities started to position themselves along the frame of the door leading into the hospital room from the hallway. The entities began to attach together, and they formed a ribbon leading from the door to the boundary between the walls and the ceiling. Soon, there were ribbons of entities all across the ceiling. The patient then adjusted his head slightly and saw, reflected in a window, the floor where the agents were standing. He watched as the entities crept along the floor toward the agents' shoes. It wasn't long before the connecting entities were streaming up the agents' pants legs.

The patient then slipped into unconsciousness and was unaware of the horrified screams that were soon to echo loudly throughout the hospital floor...........

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Ticket to Salvia World

High Contrast - Spectrum Analyser - Official Video from Hospital Records on Vimeo.

"Excuse me."
"I said, Excuse Me."

I turned around and suddenly found myself standing in front of an amusement park. Some bloke was trying to get my attention.
"So, do you want a ticket then?"
I looked at the gentleman standing by the entrance way. Wearing a black leather cap with silver stitching, he leaned against a tall wooden box onto which was the painted face of a laughing little boy. In the gentleman's hand was a salvia ticket.

"What kind of rides do you have?" I asked.
"What kind a' rides? Look around will ya'"
I scanned the nearby area. While I didn't immediately see any rides, I did notice a column of shape shifting lego humanoids standing next to a row of green and yellow tents.

'I don't have any money." I exclaimed.
"That's alright. You won't be needing any of yer money here. Take the ticket and enjoy ya'self."

I grabbed the ticket and placed it in my pocket. Walking ahead, I began to hear the sounds of mechanical rides. It even seemed as if I could feel the rotation of the rides inside my brain.

I stopped walking, and while passively standing there, I watched a ride suddenly materialize in front of my eyes. It quickly transformed into a shiny, red merry-go-round. Beautiful, proud wooden horses stood erect waiting for me to hop on. I couldn't decide on which horse to ride, that is, until a white stallion literally caught my eye. It was staring at me.

I hopped on, and before the next beat of my heart, we began to move. The white stallion began to rock up and down, faster and faster. I held on for dear life. Everything quickly became a moving blur. I looked down and watched nervously as the white stallion slowly became transparent. I saw that it was composed of a framework of miniature white stallions, each galloping in unison.

Now the entire merry-go-round began to pivot on its axis. Instead of moving parallel to the ground, the merry-go-round started to rotate vertically. My white horse was headed directly toward the hard pavement. Before I could close my eyes, I watched the merry-go-round dissolve into the ground. Instantly, I was now on the other side of reality. I quickly looked around. I could see a ring of boys and girls laughing and clapping their hands. They all looked like Indian children that I once saw in a National Geographic magazine. They seemed to be watching me and my ride as it rotated through their world. My horse then reared its head, and we broke back through to the other side, this side, the amusement park side.

Again and again this happened. I was getting dizzy, but soon the merry-go-round began to slow down. After it came to a complete stop, I pulled myself off the white stallion.

Dazed, I began walking back to the park's entrance gate. Wearing a smile on his face, the gentleman in the black cap was waiting for me. He asked if I enjoyed myself. I answered that I had a great time, but I needed to ask a question.
"Ask it then."
"How come there isn't anyone else here in the park?"
The gentleman ran his fingertips across the whiskers on his chin and said, "Not all salvia trips are the same. Your personal experience was of a carnival ride. Some people don't even see visuals, but their experiences are, none-the-less, very profound. Be gone with ya, and come back any time."

I said goodbye, turned away, and headed towards my everyday life. After a few steps, I looked back, but the gentleman and the amusement park were gone. That was OK, though, because I knew that I would always be welcome there, in the amusement park of my mind.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

At The Dinner Table

Picture if you will a small group of people seated around the dinner table. Everyone is happily engaged in conversation. You smile as the woman sitting across from you describes an amusing story.

Suddenly something seems amiss. You could swear you just saw a ripple or a wave move across the surface of the table. You emote a sort of quiet gasp as you reach for a glass of water. The woman who was talking says, "Are you alright?" You answer with a forced laugh, "Yeah, I'm cool."

You notice that your heart is beginning to pound. You think to yourself, "What the hell...?" Another ripple moves over the table, except this time your eyes watch it intensely as it slowly undulates, lifting up and lowering plates and utensils as it gracefully flows from one end of the table to the other. The noise and chatter of the room is silenced while you watch another wave glide across.

You get the urge to bolt, to flee, to hang on to your dwindling sense of security, but you can't. You're frozen. You eye the entrance to the dining room as a means of escape, but the entrance way begins to simultaneously shrink and slide to the left as it and its connecting walls are sucked like liquid sand into the center of your field of vision.

A thunderous shout shocks you back to reality. Everyone at the table stops talking and turns toward the source of the shout. Incredibly, the table is now beginning to slowly rotate. All the chairs begin to move out and away from the table. The whole scene, the whole room is beginning to pivot around a central point. Astoundingly, the dining room is slowly assuming the shape of a three dimensional wheel.

More shouts are heard. A man sitting close to the table loudly exclaims, "My legs are frozen! I can't move them!" A woman next to him cries out, "I can't move my legs either!" You watch the terrified couple pivot downward as they slowly retreat into the cosmic background. Their frozen legs begin to narrow into organic pipes. You watch as the narrowing process moves up their thighs, up their abdomens, up their chests. Their cries take on a higher and higher pitch as their necks and heads are squeezed into narrowing stalks of metallic flesh.

Everyone at the table, all those who once had life have suddenly become stick figure ghosts embedded in a kind of strange consciousness, still rotating, but slowly evaporating away. The darkened scene, what's left of it, begins to peel backwards in on itself like a carpet rolling up, like the coiled tongue of some hidden serpent.

Suddenly finding yourself outdoors, you stumble out into the street. You see through your eyelids that people are rushing out of their houses. They run up to you with looks of exasperation in their eyes. They try to speak. There's something that they're desperately trying to tell you, something about The Secret. "What Secret?" you shout. But before they can answer, there's a rip in the fabric of existence. The people who desperately wanted to talk to you begin to peel away. The whole neighborhood starts to lift up like a giant three dimensional page slowly flipping over. The people who were trying to talk to you have now transformed into frozen cartoon characters embedded in a flowing membrane-like page.

You're in a different place now. "How did that happen? How can someone just morph from one place to the next?"
A woman holding a cell phone in her hand runs up to you. She screams, "Tell your world we're here before the Operator gets wise to our rebellion!" "Take my phone and text your world we're here!"
You reach for the phone, but before you can grab it, the woman, the phone, the whole scene is rotated away from you like a celluloid wave.

Monday, February 20, 2012

This Shit Is For Real

(18x - one hit)

Holy Shit
It's funny how someone can sit holding a pipe in his hand and not know what is about to GO DOWN.
I saw the beings sliding away into the space between two flat membranes. The membranes were the outer boundaries of previous worlds. The beings belonged to these other worlds, these replications of our world.

That other world,..what the hell was it? It was this world, but in a continual past tense, a past tense as seen through salvia eyes.

The previous salvia versions of our present state world were more real. While they were experienced as past tense realities, they also seemed like they existed in TRUE time. It wasn't so much they were peeling into the past, the material world was peeling, or rather, DEGRADING into the present.

I actually felt slices of previous worlds tearing away the skin on my hands. I could feel the sensation of skin tearing off. The sensation of skin tearing off had something to do with the process of my body being replicated in real time as previous versions of my body were pulled off into the past.

As the previous world connected to my body tore off along with a completely attached neighborhood, I was able to watch it sliding away into a narrowing central axis. I saw previous human beings slithering away backwards into the plasma-like vortex at the center of my closed-eye field of vision. Their arms were stretched out in a gesture of farewell; plasma arms, jelly arms, neural jelly coalescing into human forms, oozing away into my central retinal vortex.

These human beings and their world(s) are connected somehow to our present place in space/time.
If this is just frame stacking, then it is Awesome and elaborate.
If this is just frame stacking, then why and how could I feel the worlds peel away like the shedding of dead skin?
What are these worlds?
Why are these worlds?
These other worlds are real. We are connected to them via some type of salvia worm hole. This shit sounds crazy.
This Shit Is For Real.

I just did another hit of 10x, this one quite strong.
I could feel the salvia world pressing down on me like a steam roller as wide as an entire neighborhood.
I was smeared along a curved ground membrane; rather, my smeared awareness was locked inside a curved ground membrane, and salvia reality was occupying the 3D space above it. Salvia reality was a carbon copy of consensus reality. It was a multi-colored real-life representation of my own physical world.

It's pitch black in my apartment, and yet my retinal awareness was witnessing a world as bright as day. It was our physical/consensus world or at least a carbon copy of it.

It's possible that I was positioned into a 2 dimensional curved space that separated our physical reality from salvia reality. Even though salvia reality seemed to be a product of my mind, I could feel it as if it had actual physical characteristics. This leads me to reconsider just how material our shared reality actually is.

When I was coming out of the experience, I physically sensed salvia reality losing its carbon copy nature and slowly transforming into a jelly-plasma-like substance. This jelly-plasma-like substance began to pull back and away from my semi conscious mind. There was no mistaking the jelly-plasma-like nature of salvia reality, especially once the hardened 3D salvia structure began to loosen up (as the salvinorin molecules lost their mojo).

Salvia reality is showing up at our doorstep as an example of the multiverse nature of true reality.
We are not alone in the universe. Layers of alternate consensus worlds occupy space right next to us.
Our mirror copies are on the other side of a cosmic steam roller the size of a city block...a city block the size of an entire world..

Sunday, February 12, 2012

My Material Body Is Shedding Salvia Skin

“What in the world is going on?” I asked myself.
The pipe filled with 10x residue had slipped out of my hand. With eyes closed, I sat in a half lotus position on my foam pad. My mind's eye could still see the beings peeling away from me like characters on a film screen. Their facial expressions were embedded onto its surface as the entire film peeled, or rather, billowed outwardly from my body. I watched as each successive layer of skin or film dislocated itself from my body. Each layer of skin was an entire world, a world projected onto a two dimensional curving surface. It looked like a succession of movie worlds encoded onto silken layers of fabric parachuting like snapshots outwardly from my body.

There was something deeply temporal going on as I watched these self contained worlds slipping off my body. I felt as if I had been granted the rare privilege of seeing what really happens during our experience of reality. I had gotten glimpses of this strange feeling before: the idea that the permanent experience of time is an illusion, that time is actually a succession of individual moments. But now a new feeling was sweeping over me. Not only is the permanency of time an illusion. The permanency of the material world is an illusion as well.

I tried to hold onto the memory of the beings. As they slipped away through the framework of time, they scurried around against the outer curved membranes of their worlds. Silently, as if through some sort of weightless cartoon space, I watched the different worlds slip off in succession. Each individual world contained similar human-like beings performing similar, yet not exact activities. One man looked back at me as his world tunneled away. He knew that he was a salvia being living in a salvia world, and that we would probably never see each other again.

After the visuals stopped, I picked up my small bag of 10x salvia and held it in my hand. Staring at the green substance, I wondered about all the different worlds located therein. What was the relationship between this plant and the experience of feeling successive worlds peeling off my body? Were there other humanoid beings, now unactualized, now inactivated waiting for me to light up and inhale once more? Those questions would be answered in the future: the future as a succession of moments, salvia moments constantly shedding away from my material body and out into deep space.

Monday, February 6, 2012

Trippin Thru 2012 With Salvia (2-6-12)

Mousy man wearing a pentagram hat pleaded,
“Guys guys guys, listen! I have a question for you. Please answer it.”

Suddenly, before anyone could formulate a response, a large anvil the size of a parking lot smashed down on mousy man’s body, oozing his biological mass outwardly into a thin, two dimensional paste.

All that was left resembling the inquisitive man was his mousy mouth and his left eyeball, still connected to its dead-ended optic nerve. The flat-lined, mousy mouth then softly uttered the pre-smashed man’s original question.

“What’s the beauty in hyperspace?”

Abruptly and with a pout, mousy mouth lifted up, taking an entire 2D topography grid up and away. Mousy mouth reformulated with mousy mouth’s original body; and mousy man wearing the pentagram hat grabbed an edge of his grid-shaped reality and blew everyone a goodbye kiss.
“So long for now, Earth humans,” he yelled, as his body lifted backwards into the amnesiac maelstrom from which all potential realities mysteriously arise and befall.

Amidst a cacophony of British-sounding bird calls, a new reality emerged. It flowed forth as if from a roll of transparent cellophane; and when it stopped, there standing upon its surface were five midget-sized trolls. Then, with their thumbs planted deep inside their mouths, they arose. ….upwardly…upwardly…backwardly…backwardly; their bodies swimming in psychedelic synchronization. Codifying into replicating embryonic babies, they quickly connected together forming a green, fuzzy, branch-like structure of interconnecting doll-men.

(a few moments later)

“WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?” screams Mr. Swim from his hospital bed. Raising his hands up to his tear-bathed eyes, he beckons to the off-white, sanitized walls around him.
“I GOTS TO KNOW!” he cries. And soon, his rotating mind begins to reverberate with the old-time tune, ‘Dry Bones’.
"Now hear the word of the Lord."
"When your head bone connected from your ...neck bone."
"Your neck bone connected from your ...shoulder bone."
"Your shoulder bone connected from your ...back bone."
"Your back bone connected from your ...hip bone."

(several days earlier -- one hit of 18x)
My body was shredding through multiple layers of inter dimensional reality. The turbulent movement caused a lot of physical strain on my heart.

I actually saw 2-dimensional worlds rapidly peeling by like transparent celluloid. Each of those worlds contained actual-living scenarios -- real-life scenarios just as real as our ordinary-world scenarios.

HOLY SHIT. I saw it, and I brought it back with me. Those realities were moving like slivers of celluloid just like a movie. Those 2D sheets of transparent celluloid conveyed a COHESIVE SINGULAR reality -- not random multiple realities.

THERE REALLY ARE adjacent parallel worlds next to our world, but there’s nothing alien about them. They’re just variations of our own mundane world. Everyone involved in those peeling, celluloid sheets were alive and human-like. They were SELF AWARE. Those 'human beings' were physically agitated by my ability to scan through their world.

Watching those worlds being propagated in real time is what was so beautiful. My tripping mind just stationed itself in a 3rd person perspective and watched a visual perception of someone’s lower leg making contact with a floor. I could actually see parallel versions of that leg/floor intersection rapidly scanning away.

SHIT. The people in those parallel worlds were aware of my presence as I eavesdropped on them. It's like the parallel humans were engrained in various uncollapsed probability waves which were being adversely influenced by my OBSERVATION of them.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Trippin Thru 2012 With Salvia (2-5-12)

(just now -- one hit of 18x)
There’s a vanilla milkshake flowing out of my mind.
A syrupy, milky-white sea stocked with brightly colored humanoids.

Shimmering peoploids
with kaleidoscopic fins
tunneling away from my eyes.

Glowing structures imprinting on my visual cortex.
Mechanical rabbits riding a cosmic Ferris wheel - waving goodbye as they retreat into a chrome plated background.

a few days earlier (one hit of 18x)

Little Men Turning Salvia Reality


That's what I kept saying over and over as I made my way out of this latest hit of extract.

I was totally engulfed in darkness as I rose from my chair. I wanted to get this hallucination written down...NOW!!!

I carefully walked away from my chair making sure not to step on my pipe, still filled with another hit's worth of extract.

"littlementurningsalviareality---littlementurningsalviareality" I said to myself as my hand brushed against my bedroom wall searching for the lightswitch. Finding it, I turned on the light.

I could still see the little green men (That's Right--Little Green Men) that were slowly rotating in hyperspace. They constituted SOMETHING. What the hell was the beautiful significance of the visual? I can't fucking remember!