fresh blood

i've been mentally preparing for a weekend of strange, mind-bending fun; consequently i've been wandering around the vaults of erowid again for the first time in a long while. check them out if you've got an hour or two - there's something fun for everyone - promise!

reading the trip reports really brought me back - suddenly i became a strange, morbid teenage girl again, trapped in my parent's stuffy den. a boring box of a room decorated with bits and pieces of riffraff too out-of-fashion for the public rooms, the den was where the computer was. hence, the den was where, i suppose, a great deal of myself was born, strangely enough... born in that ugly box of a room looking out directly into the stucco of my neighbor's house, in with my dad's guitars and my ugly debate trophies and my grandmother's huge, pumpkin-coloured velveteen armchair.

i would spend hours late at night, straining to hear any movement from the direction of my parent's bedroom, reading trip reports written by unstable chemists who could only reference what they were taking by long chemical names dotted picturesquely with numbers and hyphens. i had friends who smoked pot, who drank, and these, at the time, held little interest for me. they frightened me somewhat, because they seemed to me to... muddy the mind. and this was frightening, unclear, nebulous.... muddying. exactly.

the hallucinogens, however - ahhh, the hallucinogens. from those early days i would read on and on, listening to that ugly clock tick into the dark, devoted like a lover, tingling and sweating with desire, with anticipation. DMT was always my favourite... the one drug i've always wanted to do and never gotten to do.... it held some aura for me, some potent, palpable mystery of initiation, brotherhood, transitivity and (subsequent) abandonment. i read, i researched, i bought the yage letters from the upstairs room of city lights, and when my favourite band (probably still, too) put out an album devoted to hallucinogens and time exploration i was beside myself; the original pressing came with six stickers and of course, the 5-meo-dmt sticker was the one i put on my c.d. player and prayed that someone would notice. no one did, of course, but that is more than likely for the best. i was, after all, seventeen. i was seventeen and i was looking forward to pulling my mind apart. still am, honestly. suppose that's why i'm a philosopher, an analyst, a proctologist of the soul, if you will.



today my therapist and i had an interesting discussion; we always do.

"maybe it's time for you and sorrow to... break up...?" she posited, hesitating, yet speaking with decision.

i laughed. i laugh a lot in therapy. then i sighed. i also sigh a lot in therapy. (i'd like to think i was an amusing analysand, but then everyone does i suppose.)

often going forward means going backwards and vice versa.

vice versa and vice. vice, indeed.

curious,


curious.