Sunday, September 30, 2012

Salvia X Files: "Little Juno"


Slow Life from BioQuest Studios on Vimeo.


####################
The following story starts out rather innocently. It then descends precariously into the depths of salvia space.
Buckle up and enjoy the ride.
####################


The sun had already gone down, and mosquitoes were out and about as I stood impatiently on my front porch. My screen door had been closing erratically, and I was trying to figure out a way to get it to shut properly. That’s when I saw her standing there, her golden hair falling gently over her ears. She was my nine year old next door neighbor. Her name was Juno.

“Why don’t you just oil it?” she asked, a warm smile adorning her inquisitive face. 
I glanced down at her four and a half foot frame and answered, “That’s just what I was about to do, Juno.”
“OW!!” she immediately yelled, swiping her right hand across her left shoulder. “A mosquito bit me.”
I stopped fidgeting with the screen door and watched Juno scratching her arm. Then I said, “You better go inside your house before you get bit again.”
“OK, Ken,” answered Juno, already running towards her front door. 

She didn’t really live in a traditional house. Neither of us did. We both shared a red brick duplex. I lived in the apartment on the right, and she and her parents lived in the apartment on the left. I had already been there two years before Juno and her parents moved in. I considered them normal neighbors, that is, until a few months ago when Ben, Juno's father, lost his job. That’s about the time I first started hearing arguments from across the wall separating our two living rooms. And lately, while engaging in neighborly talk with Ben, I began to notice the strong smell of alcohol on his breath.

Now it was getting dark. After taking Juno’s advice and applying several drops of oil onto the screen door’s dampening arm, I settled into my living room for an evening of quiet salvia excursions.

I pulled out a small baggie containing some salvia extract. Several months ago, I had decided to combine my 25x salvia with some 10x in order to lessen the potency. And then yesterday, while digging around in a kitchen cupboard, I discovered this small baggie, still containing enough 25x for a good sized bong load.
I figured, “What the hell. I’m gonna smoke this.”

And so I sat in the darkness, in my living room, attempting a pre-trip meditation. My composure was becoming increasingly unsettled because I kept hearing noises emanating from the other apartment. The noises would flare up before quieting down again. Then, while in a pocket of relative silence, I decided to go ahead and fire the shit up. “Lock and load, baby,” I softly whispered to myself.

I flicked the proverbial Bic and watched the dry herb get quickly consumed in an orange flash. Raising my index finger from the small hole atop the wooden bong, I felt like a musician playing a sweet note as I drew the cool smoke into my awaiting lungs.

A mere few seconds later, I grew aware that the 25x was coming on strong -- WAY too strong. 
!!-CRASH-!!
Out of nowhere, I heard a loud noise from the other side of my living room wall. 
“Shit, what was that?” I silently blurted to myself, trying to stay composed. But I was already in full trip mode, and the unsettling sound was quickly forgotten. 

The blackened room around me was now transforming into a weird, holographic bubble. My mind's eye could see grainy, green, gelatinous globules of electromagnetic energy transforming into a pulsating chair. The chair then pulled away like molasses from my tripping mind. Next, I heard a muffled scream, and my mental eye could see this same green chair being violently thrown across a room, narrowly missing a woman’s face. 
“Oh, Fuck!” I thought aloud. “That’s Juno’s mom!” 

I was hallucinating heavily now. Sweat was oozing from the pores in my skin. Except for my visual cortex, all the processing in my brain was shutting down. Now my mind's eye could see Ben, Juno’s father. Suddenly, a strange voice in my head asked, “What the fuck is that guy holding in his hand?” My retinas scanned the trail leading down his right arm. Then my heart dropped like a rock when I realized he was clutching a hatchet. Swinging it wildly, he glared down towards a figure across from the kitchen dining table. The terrified figure was Juno.

Choking back the urge to panic, I stuttered to myself, “Oh, man...Oh, man... Is this really happening?"

With the hallucination now peaking in intensity, my mind had seemingly dislodged from my body. I didn’t know who or where I was. The virtual muscles in my mind’s eye were following Ben holding the hatchet as he slowly rounded the kitchen table. Juno’s mother screamed again, her mouth twisting into a sickly combination of fear and defeat. I could actually see vocal waves exiting her mouth. Her scream was like a slowing audible recording, the eerie pitch descending lower and lower. 

Temporarily distracted by her mom, Juno quickly turned her eyes back toward her advancing father. His arm, now already in full swing, was cutting an invisible swath toward his daughter’s head. 

My still tripping mind watched as the blade made horizontal impact an inch above Juno's eyebrows. As the hatchet entered her skin, a bright red, wet color instantly appeared along the surface of the shiny, sharp blade.

The rapidly unfolding series of events was sucking the air out of my chest. My mind was being whipsawed by salvia molecules as the violence flashed into my visual cortex.

While Ben’s hatchet cut through Juno’s milky white skull, something extraordinary happened. My mind, my brain convulsed revoltingly in a kind of epileptic seizure. Miraculously, Ben’s hatchet had somehow cut a zipper-like demarcation between two separate realities: one reality containing the horror of a murder, and now a brand new alternate reality containing Juno with angels in her head.

The room enclosing Juno seemed to rotate now, and life-like miniature Junos were spilling out of her freshly opened skull. Reaching the floor, the tiny Junos immediately scampered away, disappearing into familiar objects like appliances and doors. They all emptied out of Juno’s head, all except one. My spinning mind’s eye watched as a terrified Juno stumbled out of the kitchen and into her living room. Then I saw her lose consciousness and fall, spilling out the last remaining miniature Juno.

Gratefully, my trip was now past its peak. I slowly opened my eyes and began the process of re-establishing a sense of self. The specter of an unconscious and immobile Juno was still in my hallucinating mind; when, to my startled amazement, I watched as the last tiny Juno suddenly appeared inside my living room. Only five inches tall, she darted across my carpet, and before my body could flinch, the little Juno leapt up and disappeared into the bony flesh just below my right knee.

A wave of conviction suddenly surged through my body. I needed to communicate with someone immediately. Usually, after a salvia trip, I’m compelled to post my experience on the internet. But this was something totally different. I was now feeling a serious urge to speak intimately to a real person on the phone. 

I rose up from my chair and immediately tripped over my barbells. Landing on the floor, I crawled on my hands and knees towards where I thought my cell phone would be. It was still dark, and my right hand swept the carpet for the phone. Finally grabbing it, I held it in my hand. The numerical keys radiated a warm glow as I instinctively pressed the numbers 9..1..1. 

I only heard soft static at first which was suddenly followed by a woman's voice:
“######## 911. What’s your emergency?”
I squeezed the cell phone tightly.
“Yeah, my name is Ken #####. I live at ## Willow Drive. A few minutes ago, I was tripping and, uh, wait, there’s this man, and he was in a hallucination, but it wasn’t a hallucination…”
The lady interrupted me and asked, “Sir, are you requesting medical assistance?”
“No ma’am, no ma’am. Listen to me. I heard this scream, and it looked like a murder in my head.”
There was a momentary silence at the other end of the line. Then the lady said, “Mr. #####, I’m going to send a city police unit to your location, OK?”
I answered, “OK, OK.” I then pressed ’end’ on my cell phone.

I was already rapidly coming down from the trip as I sat dazed on the floor in the darkness. Staring at the phone, I immediately realized what I had just done.
“Oh, shit." I muttered. "I just called 911. I just called the fucking cops!”
Trying to get a grip, I reminded myself that I hadn’t broken any laws. Salvia divinorum was still legal to possess in Washington state.
“Just cool it, man.” I told myself.

Minutes later, a knock-knocking sound jarred me back to reality. I slowly stood up and made my way to the front door. Sure enough, standing there was a police officer. Further back in my front yard was his partner holding a flashlight. The officer glanced down at his note pad and then brought his eyes back up to mine.
“Hi, are you Ken #####?”
“Yes sir,” I answered.
The officer looked at me intently. He then asked, “Ken, have you been drinking or doing anything else tonight that I should know about?”
I stood there for a second, and with a sigh I replied, “Sir, I was tripping on this stuff called salvia di...”

Before I could finish my sentence, the officers and I heard a muffled noise from my neighbor’s apartment. Suddenly, Juno’s mom burst out of the front door in hysterics, followed closely by her husband Ben chasing her. At that point I think I pissed a little in my pants. The two police officers immediately ran toward Ben and tackled him to the ground. The officer who had been talking to me was using his knee to pin Ben’s arm down. Clutched tightly in Ben’s fist was a shiny, new hatchet.

I walked off my front porch and watched as the officers put handcuffs on Ben. Then a slight movement caught the corner of my eye. It was Juno, apparently unharmed, standing in the darkness on her porch. Hearing her mom screaming out her name, Juno suddenly darted across the front lawn and leapt up into her mother’s arms. Alone, I stood there and watched the two of them embrace.

Shortly afterward, another police officer accompanied by a state social worker drove up to take Juno and her mother away. I raised my hand and waved goodbye to Juno. She did likewise. Watching the car back out of the driveway, I figured I would probably never see them again. I was right. A week later, a moving van would come and empty out their apartment. 

And so I turned around, stepped up onto my front porch, and entered my apartment. Walking into my living room, I could hear the screen door closing slowly and smoothly behind me.

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

2D People Inside Linoleum Worlds



(18x - one hit)
Transcribed a few minutes after actual trip.

##------##

How can I explain How can I explain How Can I Explain????????
....All those people from other worlds peeling off my eyeballs??

They were like two-dimensional magnetic sheets containing compressed representations of our everyday world.

I saw the heel from someone’s magnetized foot pulling away from my fucking RETINAS.
Multiple people inside multiple worlds peeling out of my fucking EYES.


There were people actually talking to me as they looked down at my body which was positioned near a floor. Each different person was speaking from a totally different world. These ‘world peelings’ were like some kind of futuristic, magnetized, semi-transparent linoleum being pulled off a ground surface of some kind (directly in front of the outer edges of my eyeballs).

Shit. The people in these other worlds were carbon copies of the people in our everyday world. They kept telling me to stop eFFing with the Matrix. They didn’t actually say, “Don’t eFF with the Matrix.” It was more like they were continuously trying to mute my mental self-awareness.
I could actually hear their normal-sounding voices.
THEY WERE PISSED THAT I WAS ALTERING THEIR REALITY PROGRAM.

############

For an hour I sat in my lazy boy chair holding onto my pipe, too nervous to take the hit. I knew that some HEAVYOSITY was coming my way, but I never expected this.

This trip was high tech, but only in the sense that our mundane, everyday world was being replicated right in front of my retinas. These everyday worlds were like 2D sheets of magnetized, semi-transparent linoleum carrying people away as they were being scanned (3 ScansPerSecond) from the outer edges of my eyeballs.

The people in these linoleum sheets were trying to keep my cerebral awareness at a minimum. They were telling me something like, “You’re not supposed to know about this, intruder.”

So there it is -- another day, another hit. Tune in tomorrow -- same bat-shit time, same bat-shit channel.

#########
EDIT (a few hours later)
#########

When I was watching those semi-transparent, linoleum floors scanning away, I wasn't in my kitchen staring at the floor. I was in a darkened room with my eyes closed. The visuals weren't caused by my last retinal imprint.

While they were scanning off my eyeballs, I got the very strong impression that if I could lock on to one of those worlds (with a kind of retinal will power), then I would have been able to enter that world. Each of those worlds were incredibly close to our everyday world. Maybe the fact that the hallucinated worlds were so Earth-like could actually help a tripper fit into that Earth-world facsimile. It's possible that the people in these scanning worlds realized my intent to enter their particular world. That might be why they tried to dissuade me from entering. I guess that would really have wrecked the Matrix.

Monday, September 10, 2012

She's Waxing Reality Off My Face


I was reading alone in my livingroom, when suddenly there arose a loud cry coming from my den. Putting down my book, I ran into the room and saw Mr. Swim sitting in the darkness, his hands clutching the armrests of his recliner. Immediately, he arched his head back and shouted,
"She's Waxing Reality Off My Face!"

I raised my arm to turn on the light, but he grabbed my shirt and yelled, "Keep It Dark".
He then said that he could still see the trailing edge of the reality moving away from him. "It's like a woman's wedding gown sliding across the surface of a floor, flowing into the distance like retinal lava," he added.

I asked him what was going on, and he answered that he had just smoked some extract.
"How much did you smoke?" I asked.
"Some plain leaf topped off with 10x," was his reply.
I was worried that he was freaking out, but he said he was calming down because it all seemed so familiar.
"What do you mean, it seems so familiar?"
He was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Whenever I do extract, all my trips start out with the same opening visuals."
I asked, "What do you see?"

He adjusted his chair, leaned back and said, "The opening visual field usually contains some brightly lit building blocks. During this latest trip, the building blocks transformed into carvings of mallard ducks. Except they weren't ducks. They were people, all cloned from the same wooden original. They arranged themselves into the shape of a chair. It's like the back of the chair was made of two vertical mallard people connected together by four horizontal mallard people.
I poked his recliner and said, "And then what happened?"

Mr. Swim continued, "I must have blacked out for a few seconds. When I came to, I saw the backside of a human being flowing towards me. As soon as I recognized the form as a human, it immediately began to deconstruct. The human's back broke up into horizontal bricks, and then rematerialized as the flat surface of an end table. This all happened within a couple of seconds. It's as if the human wanted to cloak himself into the table, to hide within its ubiquity."
I stood there trying to gather this all in. Then I asked him,
"So what did you mean when you yelled, 'She's waxing reality off my face'?"

Mr. Swim lifted up his hand and dragged it across his hairline.
"It's like someone grabbed hold of my scalp and ripped my face off. But it wasn't my face being ripped off. It was reality being ripped off. I no longer identified with my material face. I now identified with the visual membrane flowing away from my face. I had been sucked through my eye holes into a visual world that now contained me and all my identity. Time had seemingly broken in two. I could see my face receeding into its own temporal field; and now I was traveling in time through a different temporal field."

I stood there in the darkness watching him, my mouth ajar.
Mr. Swim continued, "There was something beautiful about this visual membrane. It was half organic, half inorganic. It was completely made out of interconnecting entities, similar to people, all working together to form this living, constantly morphing, hyperdimensional tissue. It was like an alien civilization living in a type of cosmic womb. I knew intuitively that if graphic artists could duplicate what I saw, the world would change overnight. It would be a REVELATION, a REVOLUTION."

Mr. Swim then adjusted his chair back to an upright position.
I asked him if he wanted the light back on, but he replied that he was going to sit there and collect his thoughts. He was considering posting them on the internet.

And so I exited the room and closed the door behind me.

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Trippin Thru 2012 With Salvia (9-1-12)

Rotating structural gyroscopes inside burningmouth's tripping cerebellum.
Salvia molecules splattered all across the marbled surface of an inter dimensional skull.

More rotating micro-men attaching together now, lining the walls of a frontal lobe -- strings of bluish-grey neurons streaming throughout a cavernous, swollen womb just behind and just above an alien woman’s totally astonished tri-facial mask.

The three-faced woman slowly opens her white Frigidaire. Inside the cool and sparkly chamber are delicious vegetables composed of little green men reading the evening news. She reaches up and crazily spins her laughing-out-loud faces around and around. Coming to a stop, a starving, bird-like face chomps down on the little green men like they were peas in a pod.

The satiated three faced woman then sucks in her gut and squeezes into a two dimensional membrane as the opposite walls of her other-worldly home suddenly compress together. She and her world then become just another molecular ribbon woven into the fabric of Reality.

(big toke of 18x)
The story of the three faced…… WOOOWWWWWWWWWW.
A new world just now lifted up from burningmouth's flat-topped cranium………..

It was another reality lifting up like a waving, two dimensional molecular ribbon as wide as the Sacramento valley. A man from this other world was holding his arm out as if he were a border agent grasping the edge of a parallel world tightly in his hand. When the flag-shaped, two dimensional world/reality lifted up, he sailed away as if he and his bordering arms were imprinted
in a cloth
from a mast
on a salvia ship
destined for another world.

A TOTALLY OTHER PARALLEL WORLD.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Trippin Thru 2012 With Salvia (8-30-12)

The following video is a good example of how not to exit an apartment while tripping on salvia.



++++++++++++
+++++++++++
++++++++++
+++++++++
++++++++
+++++++
++++++
+++++
++++
+++
++
+

HOLY SHIT
OK -- I’ve been trying something new lately -- namely, lighting up in the afternoon. There’s one problem with lighting up in the afternoon...
SOMEONE KNOCKING ON MY FRONT DOOR.

Hell. I just lit up. I was sitting in my chair with ear plugs in my ears. The lights were out. I had just carefully placed the pipe on the floor. The visuals were starting to invade my eyelids. A giant, rotating, cartoon wheel was slicing through my mind, when suddenly I hear….
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK,” at the front door.

And here’s what’s so freaky….
After hearing the knocking, I momentarily got paranoid. Then, after about two seconds, amnesia completely wiped clean the memory of someone at my front door, and I continued on with my salvia hallucination. SHIT. I was completely beyond any type of interaction with the everyday, material world around me. Whoever that was knocking on my front door, sorry, whoever you are. I’M GONE.

And where was I? Shit. Like I said, my conscious mind was totally involved with some Technicolor, cartoon mind-wheel churning through my brain. I was absorbed in these micro realities pressing against the outer edges of my eyeballs. These micro realities were like individual soap operas going on inside my head.

Now here’s what’s really interesting:
These micro soap operas were somehow associated with the biology of my visual cortex. I could see the outer edges of these worlds pressing tightly against some hyper dimensional, concave surface. Each one of these micro soap operas was vying for its precious micro moment in the mind-sun. I could see all those individual soap opera edges peeling or pressing against that hardened, hyper dimensional (edge of the eyeball) surface.

These were all different world scenarios playing out in my hallucination. But they all seemed so real. It’s as if our material world is but one soap opera pressing against that same hyper dimensional surface; one soap opera amongst hundreds, thousands, billions of separate soap operas each playing out, each running its individual course.

Shit. That knocking on the door was totally obliterated by my hallucination.
Damn. I live in an apartment complex. Some maintenance guy could have opened the door and walked into my bedroom.

“Excuse me, sir. We got a call about a broken water pipe in the building.”
“Broken water pipe? Uh, no…no, man. I swear I was just using a regular, wooden pipe. Oh, crap. I just spilled it all over the floor. Damn, that was expensive shit.”
“What are you talking about sir. Are you OK?”
“Yeah…yeah…yeah. Shit… Am I laying flat on my back on the floor? Oh, man. Really, I’m OK. Don’t call the cops. What world are we in? Are you in my world?”
“Sir, do you have an emergency number I can call?”
“No..no…I’m coming out of it. I’m coming out of it. Jesus. I feel like I just disembarked from a gnarly circus ride.” I’m OK now. Everything’s OK”

############

(earlier)
I did another hit of 18x. I could feel the salvia wheel in my conscious brain churning like a gear through warm molasses. The rotating salvia wheel is more primordial than our everyday, material world. Our everyday world is secondary.

Human beings such as ourselves are like tiny, robotic ants scurrying around transforming natural resources into material goods. ‘Outside Beings’ are monitoring our situation. HELL -- THEY’RE MONITORING MY COMPUTER RIGHT NOW !!!!
(schizophrenic warning light is now flashing)

Anyway, the earth-based salvia divinorum plant is like a flash drive containing salvinorin software. This software allows tripping humans the ability to see OUTSIDE THE ROBOTIC BOX.

Our everyday, material world is the ground floor of a strange and secretive civilization. Salvinorin software contains the pass codes allowing us the ability to glimpse floors ‘2’ and above.

So what is floor number two? How about a rotating swirl containing sideways views of digitized neighborhoods. Out they come, salvia beings leaving their plasma homes and spiraling towards us, engorging themselves with our world's molecular components. Fully realized as human clones, their arms are now outstretched in gestures of goodwill.

Astounded, we stiffen up and pronounce,
“Hello, space clones, what world are you from?”
They immediately answer,
“We’re from salvia space. Didn’t you see our world open up like a giant, two dimensional fractal petal? And here we are, once wound up like algorithmic cork-screws -- now unfurled into three dimensional life. And what a nice world you earth dwellers have here, if you don’t mind us saying so.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Can Salvia Lead People To God?



"Hell no...whhaaatt?"
You're possibly thinking, "Why bring God into the discussion? Why should salvia be contaminated by theological references? Actually, I'm not referring to the Judeo-Christian concept of God. I'm talking more about the idea of God as a behind the scenes energy force. Hear me out.

Recently, I watched some mandelbulb animations. Apparently, mandelbulbs are a very recent phenomenon. While viewing the animations, I was in awe of the stark beauty of the alien landscapes. I noticed that they looked like the visual structures I see during my salvia trips.

However, there is one major difference between the mandelbulb animations and salvia structures. I see nothing anthropomorphic in the mandelbulbs: no people, no familiar objects, no sense of language or intelligent code.

On the other hand, the salvia structure is filled with familiar scenery. For example, I sometimes see what I call 'interconnecting peoploids', humanoid figures that are attached together. These peoploids are constantly morphing and changing as they tunnel into the salvia mindscape. The sense of art work is mind blowing. I can only draw at the level of a six year old. Therefore, who or what is responsible for the complex artistic movements? Could it perhaps be the work of an unseen intelligence or energy force? Am I witnessing a reflection of God in my salvia visuals?

Now, getting back to the mandelbulbs. Wouldn't it be wild, if by increasing the computing power and resolution of the processes which create these bulbs, we actually began to see anthropomorphic beings or a language/code embedded in them. I think it would be wild, and I think it's possible. What a great way for the hidden hand of the Prime Mover to reveal him/her/it self.
Can I get an amen?

I want to elaborate on the afterglow state. When I am in the afterglow, I feel unattached to my surroundings. I am aware, but my awareness is floating free of my ego. It's as if my ego has been washed by a billion soothing salvinorin molecules. But as I sit there, I know that in a few minutes I will start fidgeting. The reintegration back into everday consciousness is inevitable. The salvinorin molecules begin to deactivate, and as they do so, I become more and more aware of my surroundings.

It's like there are a million electrical plugs slowly being plugged back into the wall of EGO. And as they are plugged back in, I begin to remember the dualistic associations like approach/ avoidance and likes/ dislikes. Anyway, salvia is a great tool with which to understand the subtle processes of the mind.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Holy Fuck
I just did some 10x. It was very fucking strong. I felt like I was at the boundary between life and (death?). I was floating through some sort of medium with many, many crisscrossing (arms/hands?). They were gently caressing me as if letting me know I had a choice between staying there in salvia land or returning here to consensus reality.

I knew this was a big deal as it was happening. My heart was grinding as if it was about to stop beating. If it had stopped beating, I would have been gently taken away by all the crisscrossing arms/hands. They looked like balloon animal arms. They were human/angel arms but they looked like balloon arms.

There was no rotation. There were no wheels. There were beings, but they were there only to help me navigate between the two worlds of life and (death/salvialand).

This experience was totally new. Totally unexpected. It was all about CROSSING OVER. Death seemed like no big deal. The beings were there to help me make the transition.

This trip had a major life and AFTERLIFE quality to it. The beings were part of the afterlife.

Death is not something to be feared. It is simply a crossing over from one realm to the next. Beings are there to help you when the time comes. It is creepily joyful.

//////////////////////////

Later....
I just did a hit of plain leaf. It's funny how salvia can immediately give someone a reverence for 'the moment'.

Prior to taking the hit, my relationship with my surrounding reality was the usual ennui, the usual boredom with a touch of angst. After the visual eye candy ceased, I was bathed in the moment, a sacred awareness of the spacious and open world I was embedded in. If only I could have captured this feeling for a much longer duration. Wherever I stood, I would be in direct contact with 'the moment'. The moment that magically shuts away all graspings for secondary things. Just the primary moment.......that is, until the last of the salvinorin molecules slip through the hour glass.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Our Dead End Street is Pressed Against Uncollapsed Worlds



I received a frantic phone call from a friend who lives in my apartment complex. He resides in the basement studio, which is somewhat larger than a shoebox. He calls it his man cave, but it looks more like a bomb shelter. When I arrived, he was sitting on a foam pad in front of his 40 inch TV home entertainment center. All sorts of cords and wires were radiating from the back of his rig onto a surge protector. I walked up to his only window and looked outside. I had to tilt my eyes upward, as my head was almost at ground level. I turned around toward my friend who now seemed more relaxed. He looked up at me and said,
“I might sound crazy, but our dead end street is pressed against uncollapsed worlds.”


My first question was, “Are you stoned? I thought you were off weed.”
He answered, “I smoked some 20x.”
“Salvia?”
“Yeah. One very good hit. Could you get me a Coke from the fridge?”
I walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed a couple of sodas. After handing him one, I sat down on the floor and asked, “What the fuck do you mean, uncollapsed worlds?”
He took a sip of soda and replied, “I’ll get to that, but first I need to start from the beginning.”


A smile then came over his face, and he snuggled his back against the wall. “You know how the feeling hits you sometimes, the feeling that says the time is now right to smoke some salvia? Well, this morning the feeling hit me, and so I emptied some 20x into my bowl. I had absolutely no idea what to expect. My mind was totally open, totally empty. I was a bit nervous so I decided to turn on my Christmas lights.”
The lights were still on, a long line of multicolored LEDs snaking across one wall of the underground studio.


My friend continued. “I was standing by my kitchen counter when I took the hit. After a couple of seconds, I noticed the Christmas lights reflecting off the counter. Each individual light seemed to transform into a little cartoon image. Soon there were dozens of dancing cartoon cells slowly disappearing into my countertop. I looked around and saw that everything was composed of these cartoon cells. They were like tiny bacteria taking over the structure of everything in my apartment. I suddenly realized that I was tripping hard, so I made my way over to my meditation pad. This is where everything started to get weird”


Holding the soda in his hand, he continued the story.
"I sat down and immediately forgot who I was. My body seemed to spread out like paste. It was like I was smeared along the inside of a balloon. I was tranquillized. I couldn’t move any of my muscles. My mind refused to think. All I could do was go along for the ride. It felt like my inner being was the needle inside the groove of a record. Liquid wax was streaming pass me creating a salvia tunnel of animated objects embedded onto its waxy surface. Everything became very, very familiar. This new cartoon groove world was the real world, and my old body-world was a thing of the distant past. The key to the familiarity was the matter-of-factness of salvia reality. Of course it was the real world. Its realness was so strong that there was no reason to place its strangeness into my brain’s memory bank. Every now and then I would get glimpses of realities spinning past me in alternate grooves. People were exiting the grooves of adjacent salvia worlds and streaming into my mind. They had been living in their own neighborhoods -- groove neighborhoods -- uncollapsed worlds -- potential worlds erupting into and out of my mind.”


My friend wiped beads of sweat off his forehead before reaching for the TV remote. He looked apprehensively at me and asked, “You don’t think I'm crazy, do you?”
While pondering a reply to his question, I began to hear music coming from his TV. It was from a Looney Tunes cartoon. I walked over to the window and stared out at our neighbors participating in their morning rituals. As I watched a man patiently wait for his crouching dog to take a shit, I said softly, “I wonder if our neighborhood is the real Looney Tunes animation playing out.” I turned my head in the direction of my friend to see his response, but he hadn’t heard me. He was too involved with the pictures flickering on his wide-screen.


###########################################


Years ago, humans believed that the world was flat, that the earth was the center of the universe. Since then, we have discovered that the universe is composed of billions of galaxies each with billions of stars. Reality seems to be getting more and more strange. Are we at the end of this strangeness? Currently, the popular belief is that there is only one human existence operating in space/time. Salvia users report seeing other worlds containing other beings. Do these beings have any objective existence, or are they merely processing out of our individual minds, like dreams?

I believe that these salvia worlds might be alternative universes collapsing and uncollapsing all around us. Maybe our universe isn’t the only universe. Maybe your individual neighborhood is actually pressed against potential, alternate, human containing neighborhoods that flicker on and off throughout the quantum universe.
.
.

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?"

-------G
------F
-----E
----D
---C
--B
-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?”

“WWWHHHOOOAAA”

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.


-------J
------I
-----H
----G
---F
--E
-Dioxippus, here's a bus ride that will take us to nowhereland:

LOOK
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!

“WHAT THE HOLY HELL IS HAPPENING???”

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
FLICKERING POD PEOPLE WITH PHONY AFFECTS."
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....
GET THIS OUT TO THE PUBLIC!! POST IT!!"
“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
in SALVIASPACE. :)