Poetry/prose/creative writing.

[judih]

fascinating. Right there for all to read. Doesn't take much to understand.

[Intrepid_traveler]

fascinating. Right there for all to read. Doesn't take much to understand.

Which part?

[Intrepid_traveler]

The weather was terrible today, heavy snow and wind.

I don't know how she can look so gorgeous at 5 am in the middle of a blizzard on her Way to work, but damn! She looked incredible!

She was sitting next to me, and every so often I will glance up at the reflection in the window at us sitting side by side, she never really seems to be paying much attention to me, however, I began to write again, and then I glanced over and I could see her hand by her knee and it looked like she was making a hand motion in an effort to get my attention. ...if it was an attempt to get my attention it was way too subtle.

I love this black and white leopard or cheetah print scarf that she wears, it really brings out her eyes and goes great with the beautiful color of her hair.

...she is so perfect. I couldn't imagine a girl that could be any more perfect for me.

Eliza tells me she reads everything I write about her, and while Eliza does have some motivation to lie to me, it's seeming more and more like she is right. So, if the girl from 26th is reading my proclamations of my love for her on a near daily basis, then why doesn't she let me know? Why not get an account and reply? Why not just get my attention in person?

Its a strange situation, and will admit that there's a good deal about it that I don't understand, but I am being true when I say that I would do absolutely anything for this girl, and that I think she is the most amazing, gorgeous, and sweet girl in the universe.

My beautiful brunette girl from 26th street, my sweet darling sugaree, maybe tomorrow will be the day that we get things moving.

[judih]

fascinating. Right there for all to read. Doesn't take much to understand.

Which part?

The whole thing! -
as you quoted!
here it all is, one more time.

pac man reference

"Computer games don't affect kids; I mean if Pac-Man affected us as kids, we'd all be running around in darkened rooms, munching magic pills and listening to repetitive electronic music." -Kristian Wilson, Nintendo, Inc, 1989

*This quote was actually generated by a comedian named Marcus Brigstocke, which makes it far less funny.

additional pac man reference:

People thinks there's one reality, but there's loads of them, all snaking off, like roots. And what we do on one path affects what happens on the other paths.
Time is a construct.
People think you can't go back and change things, but you can, that's what flashbacks are, they're invitations to go back and make different choices. When you make a decision, you think it's you doing it, but it's not. It's the spirit out there that's connected to our world that decides what we do and we just have to go along for the ride.
Mirrors let you move through time.
The government monitors people, they pay people to be your relatives and they put drugs in your food and they film you.
There's messages in every game.
Like Pac-Man. Do you know what PAC stands for? P-A-C: "program and control." He's Program and Control Man the whole things a metaphor, he thinks he's got free will but really he's trapped in a maze, in a system, all he can do is consume, he's pursued by demons that are probably just in his own head, and even if he does manage to escape by slipping out one side of the maze, what happens? He comes right back in the other side. People think it's a happy game, it's not a happy game, it's a fucking nightmare world and the worst thing is it's real and we live in it.
It's all code. If you listen closely, you can hear the numbers. There's a cosmic flowchart that dictates where you can and where you can't go.
I've given you the knowledge.
I've set you free.
Do you understand?
-Colin Ritman ; bandersnatch

[Intrepid_traveler]

fascinating. Right there for all to read. Doesn't take much to understand.

Which part?

The whole thing! -
as you quoted!
here it all is, one more time.

pac man reference

"Computer games don't affect kids; I mean if Pac-Man affected us as kids, we'd all be running around in darkened rooms, munching magic pills and listening to repetitive electronic music." -Kristian Wilson, Nintendo, Inc, 1989

*This quote was actually generated by a comedian named Marcus Brigstocke, which makes it far less funny.

additional pac man reference:

People thinks there's one reality, but there's loads of them, all snaking off, like roots. And what we do on one path affects what happens on the other paths.
Time is a construct.
People think you can't go back and change things, but you can, that's what flashbacks are, they're invitations to go back and make different choices. When you make a decision, you think it's you doing it, but it's not. It's the spirit out there that's connected to our world that decides what we do and we just have to go along for the ride.
Mirrors let you move through time.
The government monitors people, they pay people to be your relatives and they put drugs in your food and they film you.
There's messages in every game.
Like Pac-Man. Do you know what PAC stands for? P-A-C: "program and control." He's Program and Control Man the whole things a metaphor, he thinks he's got free will but really he's trapped in a maze, in a system, all he can do is consume, he's pursued by demons that are probably just in his own head, and even if he does manage to escape by slipping out one side of the maze, what happens? He comes right back in the other side. People think it's a happy game, it's not a happy game, it's a fucking nightmare world and the worst thing is it's real and we live in it.
It's all code. If you listen closely, you can hear the numbers. There's a cosmic flowchart that dictates where you can and where you can't go.
I've given you the knowledge.
I've set you free.
Do you understand?
-Colin Ritman ; bandersnatch

I love that "Collin ritman" (Played by Will Poulter) pac-man rant. Its from a Netflix program called "black mirror : bandersnatch". Its a "choose your own adventure" styled program with many alternate pathways and outcomes.

Now, I'm really not a huge fan of the program, I mean, it's not that I dislike it, but I'm not really that into it either.

however, there is a scene that you can get to where you visit computer programmer Collin ritman's flat and are offered cannabis and LSD.

While under the influence of LSD Collin goes off on this whole rant where be is "revealing universal truths" to the protagonist of the story, and for some reason it was the only part of the program that had any sort of impact on me.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=D3qxWbQ8qek

Here, see for yourself.
(The link above is YouTube mobile, hence that little "m" in the URL before YouTube, it's the only way I can view YouTube on this device and hence is the only way the url can get copied and pasted from it. If the link does not work simply type "Black Mirror - Bandersnatch (Colin's speech about the PAC-man metaphore)" into the YouTube search bar and this video should come up. )

[Intrepid_traveler]

My beautiful darling sugraee from 26th street sat next to me again today. We quietly kept to ourselves, each focusing on some external distraction such as my writing or her phone.

At one point the bus missed a turn and began heading in the wrong direction, as this was occurring she leaned forward and looked at me, yet unfortunately did not say anything. The bus quickly corrected it's route, though I feel like a wasted an opportunity to interact with her, I mean, she was looking right at me, and we would have had a topic to discuss, but that's life I suppose.

None of this is her fault, it seems like she is making every reasonable effort without revealing her knowledge of the situation or overtly interacting with me, and I keep making things difficult. I understand that unless you make a real effort to get my attention in which I can't pretend to have not noticed you that it's probably really difficult, and I know that's fully my fault.

...I think I'm scared. Well, the situation is far more difficult on my part, she knows exactly what I am thinking, she can read my thoughts everyday I see her, while I have no idea what's on her mind.

Eliza says I want to be with her for all the wrong reasons, and I have really been thinking about that, and I'm still not sure. I know that I'm incredibly attracted to her, and that I want her to be happy. I know that I could be a near perfect partner if she gave me the chance.

...and I know that I would be willing to change anything about my life if it would get me a chance with her.

...I think that's what bothers Eliza, she wants the situation between myself and all of the girls to stay more or less the same, and she knows that if I enter a serious relationship that I am going to give up doing a good deal of things that I am doing while I'm single. I think she knows that a relationship would completely realign my priorities, and that all of the love and affection and attention that I give to Eliza, and Melanie, and Ayela, would all go directly to my beautiful darling sugaree from 26th street. Eliza pretends like she doesn't enjoy it, but I know she loves all of the attention that I give her, she loves all the compliments and affection, she enjoys having someone tell her that she is beautiful and special, she enjoys having someone to take her out to eat and to stores, she enjoys the snuggling, and back-rubs, and gifts, she enjoys that I will drop whatever I'm doing to make her happy, even if its simple things like brining her something to eat or just tending to whatever she may want or need. I think Eliza enjoys all of the affection and love and attention that I give her, (and to all of the other girls) and she knows that if I get with the beautiful brunette girl from 26th street that it's all going to be focused on her.

I always have to deal with the most bizarre possessiveness when it comes to the girls that I am close with. One of them called me a "unicorn" and made it pretty clear that she had no intentions of letting me get away from her. Honestly, I don't get it, I really don't think I am all that special...

I wish I was good enough for my darling sugaree from 26th street...

[Intrepid_traveler]

We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies–all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes.

Most island universes are sufficiently like one another to permit of inferential understanding or even of mutual empathy or "feeling into." Thus, remembering our own bereavements and humiliations, we can condole with others in analogous circumstances, can put ourselves (always, of course, in a slightly Pickwickian sense) in their places. But in certain cases communication between universes is incomplete or even nonexistent. The mind is its own place, and the Places inhabited by the insane and the exceptionally gifted are so different from the places where ordinary men and women live, that there is little or no common ground of memory to serve as a basis for understanding or fellow feeling. Words are uttered, but fail to enlighten. The things and events to which the symbols refer belong to mutually exclusive realms of experience.

To see ourselves as others see us is a most salutary gift. Hardly less important is the capacity to see others as they see themselves. But what if these others belong to a different species and inhabit a radically alien universe? For example, how can the sane get to know what it actually feels like to be mad? Or, short of being born again as a visionary, a medium, or a musical genius, how can we ever visit the worlds which, to Blake, to Swedenborg, to Johann Sebastian Bach, were home? And how can a man at the extreme limits of ectomorphy and cerebrotonia ever put himself in the place of one at the limits of endomorphy and viscerotonia, or, except within certain circumscribed areas, share the feelings of one who stands at the limits of mesomorphy and somatotonia? To the unmitigated behaviorist such questions, I suppose, are meaningless. But for those who theoretically believe what in practice they know to be true–namely, that there is an inside to experience as well as an outside–the problems posed are real problems, all the more grave for being, some completely insoluble, some soluble only in exceptional circumstances and by methods not available to everyone. Thus, it seems virtually certain that I shall never know what it feels like to be Sir John Falstaff or Joe Louis. On the other hand, it had always seemed to me possible that, through hypnosis, for example, or autohypnosis, by means of systematic meditation, or else by taking the appropriate drug, I might so change my ordinary mode of consciousness as to be able to know, from the inside, what the visionary, the medium, even the mystic were talking about.
from the Doors of Perception
by Aldous Huxley

[Intrepid_traveler]

The story of Eden is the story of history's first drug bust. I mean, it's the story of a whole lot of tension over who's going to take or not take a certain plant which conveys knowledge. And Yahweh wandering in the garden says to himself, "If the man and the woman eat of the fruit, they will become as we are." The issue was co-equality, co-knowledge with the Creator. Well, where do we stand in man's existential march? How does that work? Can we always accept the subservient, infantile position? Is knowledge to be dispensed by gods, and if not gods, then the institutions that appoint themselves as gods over us? Or is it actually that maturity begins with somehow claiming this birthright? -terence McKenna

Somehow I think it was an act of empathy on gods part rather than a desire to limit humanity. God must have known the inevitable suffering that runs cotangent with such a high functioning conscious stream becoming confined to a physical form. Perhaps God knew the consequences of intelligence finding it's way into the physical world. Its as if as demi-gods we viewed the existence of life on earth and wanted to experience it first hand.

Ugghh...

No flow to my writing this morning, my thoughts are streaming at lethargic pace. I haven't smoked my hash yet, hence, crap writing.

Speaking of hashish,"The Hasheesh Eater: being passages from the life of a Pythagorean by Fitz Hugh Ludlow written in 1857 describes an account of cannabis intoxication which reminds me of my earliest days experimenting with the plant.

When I was young and had just started experimenting with cannabis the experiences produced were far different from what I experience today. Today, no matter how much I consume, it's never a real intoxication, it's never anything more than a "++" on the shulgin scale*. Now, when I was younger I could induce vivid "+++" experiences which bordered on the psychedelic, these experiences were very much like what Ludlow had described, and while I doubt I can recreate such intoxications, I wanted to consume cannabis in the medium and dose as Mr. Ludlow, partly as a tribute to fitz and my love of that his book, and partly as an effort to brake the "++" barrier with cannabis, a venture which has not been achieved since my teenage years.

*

PLUS ONE, n. (+) The drug is quite certainly active. The chronology can be determined with some accuracy, but the nature of the drug's effects are not yet apparent.

PLUS TWO, n. (++) Both the chronology and the nature of the action of a drug are unmistakably apparent. But you still have some choice as to whether you will accept the adventure, or rather just continue with your ordinary day's plans (if you are an experienced researcher, that is). The effects can be allowed a predominant role, or they may be repressible and made secondary to other chosen activities.

PLUS THREE, n. (+++) Not only are the chronology and the nature of a drug's action quite clear, but ignoring its action is no longer an option. The subject is totally engaged in the experience, for better or worse.

PLUS FOUR, n. (++++) A rare and precious transcendental state, which has been called a "peak experience," a "religious experience," "divine transformation," a "state of Samadhi" and many other names in other cultures. It is not connected to the +1, +2, and +3 of the measuring of a drug's intensity. It is a state of bliss, a participation mystique, a connectedness with both the interior and exterior universes, which has come about after the ingestion of a psychedelic drug, but which is not necessarily repeatable with a subsequent ingestion of that same drug. If a drug (or technique or process) were ever to be discovered which would consistently produce a plus four experience in all human beings, it is conceivable that it would signal the ultimate evolution, and perhaps the end, of the human experiment.
— Alexander Shulgin, PIHKAL, pages 963–965

So, let's hear from Fitz Hugh Ludlow:

One morning, in the spring of 185-, I dropped in
upon the doctor for my accustomed lounge.

"Have you seen," said he, "my new acquisitions ?"

I looked toward the shelves in the direction of
which he pointed, and saw, added since my last visit,
a row of comely pasteboard cylinders inclosing vials
of the various extracts prepared by Tilden & Co.
Arranged in order according to their size, they con-
fronted me, as pretty a little rank of medicinal sharp-
shooters as could gratify the eye of an amateur. I ap-
proached the shelves, that I might take them in re-
view.

A rapid glance showed most of them to be old ac-
quaintances. " Conium, taraxacum, rhubarb — ha I
what is this ? Cannabis Indica ?" " That," answered
the doctor, looking with a parental fondness upon his
new treasure, "is a preparation of the East Indian
hemp, a powerful agent in cases of lock-jaw." On the
strength of this introduction, I took down the little
archer, and, removing his outer verdant coat, began the further prosecution of his acquaintance. To pull out
a broad and shallow cork was the work of an instant,
and it revealed to me an olive-brown extract, of the
consistency of pitch, and a decided aromatic odor.
Drawing out a small portion upon the point of my pen-
knife, I was just going to put it to my tongue, when
"Hold on!" cried the doctor; "do you want to kill
yourself? That stuff is deadly poison." "Indeed!" I
replied ; " no, I can not say that I have any settled
determination of that kind ;" and with that I replaced
the cork, and restored the extract, with all its appur-
tenances, to the shelf.

The remainder of my morning's visit in the sanctum
was spent in consulting the Dispensatory under the
title " Cannabis Indica." The sum of my discoveries
there may be found, with much additional information,
in that invaluable popular work, Johnston's Chemistry
of Common Life. This being universally accessible,
I will allude no further to the result of that morning's
researches than to mention the three following conclu-
sions to which I came.

First, the doctor was both right and wrong ; right,
inasmuch as a sufficiently large dose of the drug, if it
could be retained in the stomach, would produce death,
like any other narcotic, and the ultimate effect of its
habitual use had always proved highly injurious to
mind and body ; wrong, since moderate doses of it
were never immediately deadly, and many millions of
people daily employed it as an indulgence similarly to
opium. Second, it was the hasheesh referred to by
Eastern travelers, and the subject of a most graphic
chapter from the pen of Bayard Taylor, which months
before had moved me powerfully to curiosity and admiration. Third, I would add it to the list of my former experiments.
In pursuance of this last determination, I waited till
my friend was out of sight, that I might not terrify
him by that which he considered a suicidal venture,
and then quietly uncapping my little archer a second
time, removed from his store of offensive armor a pill
sufficient to balance the ten grain weight of the .sanc-
torial scales. This, upon the authority of Pereira and
the Dispensatory, I swallowed without a tremor as to
the danger of the result.

Making all due allowance for the fact that I had not
taken my hasheesh bolus fasting, I ought to experience
its effects within the next four hours. That time
elapsed without bringing the shadow of a phenome-
non. It was plain that my dose had been insufficient.

For the sake of observing the most conservative
prudence, I suffered several days to go by without a
repetition of the experiment, and then, keeping the
matter equally secret, I administered to myself a pill
of fifteen grains. This second was equally ineffectual
with the first.

Gradually, by five grains at a time, I increased the
dose to thirty grains, which I took one evening half
an hour after tea. I had now almost come to the con-
clusion that I was absolutely unsusceptible of the
hasheesh influence. Without any expectation that
this last experiment would be more successful than
the former ones, and indeed with no realization of the
manner in which the drug affected those who did
make the experiment successfully, I went to pass the
evening at the house of an intimate friend. In music
and conversation the time passed pleasantly. The
clock struck ten, reminding me that three hours had
elapsed since the dose was taken, and as yet not an
unusual symptom had appeared. I was provoked to
think that this trial was as fruitless as its predeces-
sors.

Ha ! what means this sudden thrill ? A shock, as
of some unimagined vital force, shoots without warn-
ing through my entire frame, leaping to my fingers'
ends, piercing my brain, startling me till I almost
spring from my chair.

I could not doubt it. I was in the power of the
hasheesh influence. My first emotion was one of un-
controllable terror — a sense of getting something which
I had not bargained for. That moment I would have
given all I had or hoped to have to be as I was three
hours before.





1st attempt
10 grains = 647.989mgs ( 10 grains = 0.647989 grams )
2nd attempt
15 grains = 971.984mgs (15 grains = 0.971984 grams)
3rd attempt
30 grains = 1943.97 mgs (30 grains = 1.94397 grams)

...however, Fitz says that he "Gradually, by five grains at a time, I increased the dose to thirty grains" so it's very well possible that fitz had made other attempts leading up to the 30 grain dose which induced the experience on which his book was based.

Now, I am uncertain as to how "Tilden and Co." Preared their cannabis indica extract in the mid to late 1800's but it would be helpful to do some research on that part.

I'm thinking that I can take some PHO/BHO extract of cannabis and use it for this experiment, though with butane or propane extracts I would have to decarboxylate the tetrahydrocannabolic acid to tetrahydrocannabinol before it would be active orally.

Honestly, the last thing that I want to do is use butter or another source of natural lipids as a medium for the hash, I want to directly eat the hash.

[Intrepid_traveler]

My beautiful sweet brunette girl from 26th street, my darling sugaree, sweeter than a sugar-cube of LSD, sat next to me again today.

I love her. I'm pretty sure she knows it.

So I guess it's just a waiting game at this point.

She knows that if she wants a lifetime of love and devotion from me that all she has to do is say so.

...until then I'm not sure what else I can do.

I truly enjoy writing about how gorgeous she is, or how I love the way she carries herself and how I love her sense of style, I enjoy letting her know that she is amazing, that she is perfect in every way exactly how she is, and that I would be willing to do anything for her...

...but at some point she is going to have to bite the bullet and either give me a chance or flat out tell me that its never going to happen.

She knows I love her, she knows I would do anything for her, and she knows that if she wants me all she has to do is say so. ...again, I'm not sure what else I can do.

...I want to just tell her, but it's in a strange venue, I hate busses when it comes to interaction, it always feels like everybody is paying attention directly to you.

I should just get it over with and tell her.

I want to bring her nice things every morning when I see her, like one morning ill give her flowers, the next morning candies and a card, and so on...

[Intrepid_traveler]

We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies–all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes. -A. Huxley

According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves." -So says Aristophanes in his fantastical account of the origins of love in Plato's Symposium.

Love is born into every human being; it calls back the halves of our original nature together; it tries to make one out of two and heal the wound of human nature. Each of us, then, is a 'matching half' of a human whole...and each of us is always seeking the half that matches him -Aristophanes; Plato's Symposium.

"[When] a person meets the half that is his very own," he exclaims, "something wonderful happens: the two are struck from their senses by love, by a sense of belonging to one another, and by desire, and they don't want to be separated from one another, not even for a moment. These are people who finish out their lives together and still cannot say what it is they want from one another." --Aristophanes

Is it possible to be able to recognize your severed half by first sight?

Is it possible to know by feeling when your other half is near?

I can't explain what draws me to her, but I can feel an energy, an electricity, and a connection between us.

...For whatever reason I thought of the philosophical concepts elucidated by Aristophanes in the excerpts above.

I don't need to have been friends with her for years or ingrained in her social circle to be able to feel a real and genuine connection with her, and whether she admits it or not I know that the feeling is mutual, and I know that when we come together its going to be lightening and sparks, I know we would have a fire connection. Physically and emotionally we would have a deep an intense connection that isn't something that should be wasted. This type of connection is rare, and if you have ever had one before you know how truly special they are.

I love you my beautiful darling sugaree, my gorgeous brunette sweetheart from 26th street, maybe tomorrow will be the day you finally come and talk to me.

[Intrepid_traveler]

The change which actually took place in that world was in no sense revolutionary. Half an hour after swallowing the drug I became aware of a slow dance of golden lights. A little later there were sumptuous red surfaces swelling and expanding from bright nodes of energy that vibrated with a continuously changing, patterned life. At another time the closing of my eyes revealed a complex of gray structures, within which pale bluish spheres kept emerging into intense solidity and, having emerged, would slide noiselessly upwards, out of sight. But at no time were there faces or forms of men or animals. I saw no landscapes, no enormous spaces, no magical growth and metamorphosis of buildings, nothing remotely like a drama or a parable. The other world to which mescalin admitted me was not the world of visions; it existed out there, in what I could see with my eyes open. The great change was in the realm of objective fact. What had happened to my subjective universe was relatively unimportant. -A. Huxley

What Huxley describes above, unfortunately, seems to be the limit of what most will experience with psychedelic substances.

...which is a shame.

However, I will encounter individuals who will say "I have taken x, y, or z and it did not do anything remotely similar to what you claim it does", then, I will offer these individuals an invitation to consume a psychedelic substance with me, and strangely enough I have never failed to obtain consensus regarding these substances potentials after such an event.

...Not that Huxley didn't derive some truly valuable insights from his ventures with the compound, I think Huxley was able to obtain more than most, which is perhaps why I should have chosen another example regarding individuals expectations regarding these compounds.

There's a McKenna quote that States:
If you charge off with some political agenda that is not informed by clarity, you are going to end up with business as usual. The road to hell is paved with good intentions but it is not paved with clarity.-Terence McKenna

...I have always seen the psychedelic experience as a means of achieving such clarity, and as a result enjoy taking political or philosophical concepts and then giving them the "acid test" (while I use the term acid simply for the phrase, by giving something "the acid test" I simply mean seeing if the concept can hold up through psychedelic examination).

...well, as Huxley said "i have returned to that reassuring but profoundly unsatisfactory state known as "being in one's right mind."

...I might try some writing after I have re-upped on hash.
(I hate the terms "shatter" or "wax", if you want to be technical "hash" refers to an extract of the cannabis plant, and in my mind it doesn't seem to matter if the cannabinoids were extracted by traditional means such as by using cold H2O and bubble bags, or of the cannabinoid compounds were extracted with solvents such as butane or propane, in my mind, it's all hash. Now, of there is a need to be specific I prefer using the proper name of the substance, I.e. "butane extract" or "propane extract" or bho/pho combination extract.

fuck it. I have to go.

...oh, before I head out, I want to mention my beautiful darling brunette girl from 26th street, I still love you sugaree,  you looked amazing today. If you ever want or need anything you always know where you can find me. You know I would do anything you asked me to.

[Intrepid_traveler]

Today was a day without seeing the beautiful brunette girl from 26th street. Though I did see her every day this week except for today. Such a strange situation, possibly to remain an eternal stalemate of quietly waiting for the other to act. There's so much potential there, and I can feel the buildup of that potential. It's an incredibly rich tangent of possibility.

...It's like a bifurcation in the time stream, on one tangent myself and the beautiful brunette carry on as we have without anything changing, and on the other things came together and we ended up together. It's like I can feel the energy pouring out of that cotangent alternate existence where we had come together, its as if that possible pathway is brimming with so much energy to the point where all cotangent pathways are slightly distorted as the waves of energy and possibility from that possible tangent go crashing around through hyperspace.

Out of all things that are possible, out of all things that can occur, what is it that determines which things, "undergo the formality of actually occurring" and which things do not?

Below McKenna offers some insight:

. During the experiment at La Chorrera, the Logos demonstrated that time is not simply a homogeneous medium where things occur, but a fluctuating density of probability. Though science can sometimes tell us what can happen and what cannot happen, we have no theory that explains why, out of everything that could happen, certain things undergo what Whitehead called "the formality of actually occurring." This was what the Logos sought to explain, why out of all the myriad things that could happen, certain things undergo the formality of occurring. It is because there is a modular hierarchy of waves of temporal conditioning, or temporal density. A certain event, rated highly improbable, is more probable at some moments than at others. -terence McKenna

...I spent some time looking for Alfred North Whitehead's writing regarding things undergoing "the formality of actually occurring" and came up empty handed.

These posts are always disorganized, and since I'm fairly certain that nobody really reads these things I don't make any effort to correct them, I basically just start typing whatever is on my mind and in the end you get what you get, which seems to be a clusterfuck of mismatched abstract concepts blended with bits and pieces of prose derived from the vicissitudes of my daily life.

I don't think I am going to see my beautiful darling sugaree, the gorgeous brunette from 26th street, until next week.

...maybe then she will get things moving and give me a chance to love her. I don't think it matters what she tells her friends, she really does like me. I don't think she should worry if her friends don't like me, I mean, one of my best friends Eliza wants to keep me as far away as possible from the brunette from 26th, yet I don't let it bother me, I don't care what anybody says if she gave me a chance I would proudly tell the whole world that she was my girl and that I loved her, I wouldn't care if jealous people or negative people tried to tell lies and talk shit.

Maybe next week my baby darling sugaree will come and ask me to give her my love.

...can she really be happier awkwardly sitting side by side with me, each of us pretending like we don't notice one another?

I know that I can be hard to approach, and I know that when I am writing I look very busy, and I know that it's uncomfortable getting the attention of a person listening to loud music through headphones, and I know that because I am so nervous and shy that my body language probably shows it, but I promise that if she could just bite the bullet and reach out to tap me on the shoulder that everything would go smoothly from there. ...well, actually, it's probably going to be somewhat awkward and uncomfortable, but once that first interaction is out of the way there should be no problems.

...if she is not interested I would only hope that she would have the decency and manners to tell me.

[judih]

i'm reading.
fyi

[Intrepid_traveler]

i'm reading.
fyi

Wow. I'm still somewhat curious as to why, but I suppose that really doesn't matter.

...while I can't understand what would motivate someone to read this nonsense, simultaneously I find myself somewhat puzzled as to why I write it.

Well, I write about the beautiful brunette girl from 26th street because my friend Eliza told me that she reads all of my posts, and while Eliza may not be telling the truth, I still post in hopes that she actually is reading them. (It's actually been very difficult to to tell if the beautiful brunette girl from 26th is reading these posts or not. If she has been reading my posts she has been subtle enough with her responses in real life as to give me hints without giving herself away)

Most of this stuff was written for the beautiful brunette girl from 26th street, and there's a chance that she never sees any of it.

...the rest of the stuff, I can't say why I post it.

[Intrepid_traveler]

Just as the Sun was sinking behind the rolling purple mountain landscape I turned to her in the radiating pastel glow of the sunset, I could see a soft orange light emanating from her chest.

...my beautiful darling girl, con la corazon de oro, my sweet Melanie, you are like angel with broken wings, and I know I have what it takes to make you fly again.

Any time you are feeling down my darling, read these lyrics and remember all of the Times when I snuggled up next to you with my guitar and would play and sing this song just to cheer you up. Ill always be there for you.

You are fucking awesome never forget!


Lift up your head weary one
I see that sorrow in your eyes
Life got you down again
But you've got to realize
It takes time to learn, it takes time to grow
So be patient and be kind, And
If you ask with ease and grace
All that you seek you will find
Dust to dust and ash to ash
This too shall pass in the time, and you
Got to trust, yeah you got to trust
Good things coming in time, and Life Goes On
Life Goes On

And you can count on me to be the one
That's never gonna leave you lonely
Count on me to be the one
That is gonna love you always,
When you're feeling sad and blue
I'll be there to see you through, so
Don't cry no more
I said don't cry, my darling

True it takes some time for one to refine
The steps upon the path you are leading
The harder the pursuit, it remains the truth
The harder it will be to achieve it
And though you feel like giving up
When the path gets rough
You must be string, life must go
Don't cry, my darling, don't cry
Dust to dust and ash to ash
This too shall pass in the time, and you
Got to trust, yeah you got to trust
Good things coming in time, and Life Goes On
Life Goes On,
Life Goes On
And you can count on me to be the one
That's never gonna leave you lonely
Count on me to be the one
That is gonna love you always
When you're feeling sad and blue
I'll be there to see you through, so
Don't cry no more
I said don't cry, my darling
-Iya Terra - Life goes on


https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=EveNzW_BWzc