Another crazy trip report [5/10/12]
Yup, time for another rant!
Fear and Loathing with the bank.
So today began as normal. Woke up at 0630, watched some King of the Hill and chatted to y Parents before they both left for work.
I had an urge to eat some mushrooms. New crop coming soon and I don't want any losing their potency as I felt they did as they dried out.
I weighed out 1.7g - dry.
Let's say, as I was walking to my Town Centre about 40 minutes later on an empty stomach, I knew that their potency hadn't been lost.
At all. Not even diminished.
I made a beeline for a DIY shop. I knew the owner and rehearsed what I would say before I got there. Every time I burst into fits of laughter and then got there - grin suppressed. Things went well and I spent more money than I intended. Still, I did him a favour. I left with an order placed and a few blank DVD-R disks.
Up next, the Chemist.
"Oh fuck" my mind screamed. My pupils were like dinnerplates and the visuals began creeping in. After about 20 trips on mushrooms, I had only had about 3 or so Open Eye Visual experiences. I texted my friend, telling her what I had done and the pixels on my phone soon began to glow with a pink edge, followed by a 3-D feel. "I could hold this thing all day" I thought, as I waited in line at the Chemist, waiting to pick up my prescription. Fatboy Slim playing into my skull from my phone and earphones.
I pocketed it. The phone, that is. Not the music. No way could I hide what was going through my mind.
I was next in line. Looking to my left and right I saw some seats that were taken. The distorted faces! I felt like Hunter S Thompson taking the parking ticket in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas".
I looked out the corner of my eye again. Pursing my lips, looking very obvious, but at the time my wide-eyed glare seemed socially acceptable to me.
There was a mentally handicapped guy with a carer.
Swinging to look behind. There were more.
A shudder of terror made its way up my spine. I know that when I get to the desk I have to...
to what?
I just blurted out my name and that I had a prescription waiting, sucking my lips before and after.
Luckily they knew me well, and said it would be ready in 5 minutes.
I casually stolled down the other aisle to the supermarket nearby.
There were more of them.
More handicapped people.
"Oh no.." my mind cowered as I had flashbacks from "Day of the Dead" and "Dawn of the Dead". Their clanking metal machines making their way towards me.
Clank.
Clank.
"Oh no, over here!" the helper said, helping one out. I stared into his soulless eyes, the dribbling grin and at a wider glance, the diformed figure.
I made a beeline for the door.
"Jesus, God, why?" I kept repeating in my head, barging past a few OAPs and heading straight to buy some Red Bull. At this point I felt like I was flying. I didn't need this stuff that "gives you wings".
"Why hello there" I said to the shiny, scarlet tomato. "Are we going to get picked today" - I stared intently at it as the shelf-stacker was slowly movign away. Because of me?
I have no idea.
Soon I began to see that it wasn't a perfect circle. The cold can almost disappearing from my hand. The spherical object was warping, and as I looked into my peripheral vision, all of the others were, too. Like a magic-eye the broccoli, carrots, other tomatoes and potatoes were all coming alive!
"What a show" I muttered. An old woman next to me looking more than worried soon walked away.
There I was, in the fridge aisle of my local supermarket, talking to the fruit and veg, grasping a cold drink. My big MOLLE backpack on and - I just realised - my hood up.
I took it off,not wanting to look like a hooligan.
A hooligan?
I barged once again past people. At the time I felt like I was floating on air. Almost like a hoverboard but with legs. Full of energy I picked up some gum, contemplated the colourful, appealing gloos of some Tic Tacs and then made a run for the beer. As if it would disappear in the next few seconds.
"Why do I need this? I'm fucked enough as it is" I repeated parts of the sentence to myself in the queue
"Hey there, got your loyalty card?"
"Erm, wha? .. no, don't worry about that plastic..artificial" I blurted out as I clanged the 5 cans and pack of gun down onto the counter. The young lad insisted on bagging the items for eme despite a large backpack on me.
"Don't worry about ID", he then murmered something after finishing that sentence. I was more interested in the shimmering of bottles behind the checkouts.
"That'll be £5.20" he said, lookigng up at me, expectantly
"Ah great, I can use my shrapnel", i counted the money quickly and handed it over. My hand shaking, sweating. "Fuck the receipt" I thought as I grabbed the bag and headed outside to put it in my bag.
Plenty of space.
I struggled to place the purchases into my bag. The zip proved a real challenge.
Eventually I got it in as I dodged feelings of paranoia, thinking the guy that wanted to kill me was here, and back in the chemist I thought I saw a girl whom, despite her looks, still wanted a piece of me.
I was relieved as I sat down, to find it was not her.
It seemed the local population of welfare-sponges were out in force today, and I thought to yself about golf shoes. The scene from Fear and Loathing in my head as I cracked open the can of Red Bull and muttered the words "Disgusting..repulsive" at a £12 bottle of bath bubble stuff. My face matching the thoughts towards the evil bgreen bottle that wouldn't leave my damn sight! Everywhere I looked the tracers kept on coming. Before I knew it I was in a haze of open-eyed visuals, sat in the middle of a chemist with some undesirables and a pharmacist who could send me to the loony bin for a few days.
I composed myself as I closed my eyes. A presence was felt, as I opened them and looked up the Pharmacist who I knew well was staring at me.
"Are things alright?" she asked
"Oh yeah, just trying out some new...lifestyle changes" I blurted out, still fixated on sucking my lip, my pupils almost as big as 5p pieces.
"Ah it's a long road to recovery", "You bitch!" I thought, as I held the Morphine in my hand, thinking she was talking about that
"Surgery is never easy" she then followed up with as my eyebrows must have unnerved her. The can gripped tightly. Her eyebrows warping, and smile contorting, smaller and smaller.
I looked away.
That damned shelf again. The disgusting bottle of bath bubbles.
deciding I had nowhere to go, and it was only 10am, I put the prescription into the part of my bag which didn't have the booze in, and after some more small talk about possible rehab, I trotted out and across the road. Timing it perfectly.
The walk home found me listening to Rick James' "Superfreak" and "Cold Blooded". I passed a woman who had short hair, my kinda style, and leopard print tights.
As though I forgot she was a female, I muttered, audibly "Heh, it's Rick...", having flashbacks to a video interview of the Cocaine-freak superstar a few days before. The intro beat of "Cold Blooded" now making e suck my bottom lip more than ever. My eyes like a wild beast.
I'd have ravaged that junkie-looking streak of piss right there had nobody seen. It was purely the short hair. A fetish of mine.
Turning the corner like a B-56 Bomber, taking it wide I saw a kid on the way to the shops. I thought I recognised him.
My memory is improved on psychedelics, I find.
Sipping the last of the drink, I realised why he had flowers. Something I took notice of earlier. My earphones began playing "It was a good day" by Ice Cube. My walking slowed as I was fixated on the clouds, cars and sparkle of it all.
Nature and artificial man-made. I let out a sigh.
Anyway.
His Sister, a smoking hot girl I knew from years back, was getting married.
As she got into the car in a floundering dress, I kept staring as I walked.
"You need to sort yourself out. look at you!" I screamed at myself through my smile and raised eyebrows
"Hah, I'm 22 and don't give a shit. Shut up, brain" I said to myself. An old man mowing his lawn within earshot.
I was hung up on the thought of her. That dress. What was under it. Her jet black hair.
Almost Native Indian looking. A Buddhist-raised girl. A real stunner I wish I made more of an effort with.
I eventually got the key in the door and finished off the Red Bull. Peaking now.
And just as I was I got a text -
"I've sent you the cash to buy the goods".
A substantial amount was now in my account to buy some "goods" with BitCoins.
The next few hours were me stressing, tripping, meditating on the phone to SOCA and a Japanese bank, as BitCoin has been slowed to a trickle in the UK. The trip ended with 10mg Valium as things were getting to the point of being unbearably intense. The most important part, besides meditating and revising my younger self, was saying out loud "I'm going too fast, I can't keep up breathing".
That line resonated. It almost seemed a damned metaphor for my life as of the past 3 years.
I just thought I would share. Mushrooms fucking rock!
Just don't do what I did and follow the name of this Pink Floyd track. It was 08:50 when I took them, after all.
Plus I ended up proper monging out to this (click "Portfolio" drop downs and select a photo...)
http://www.rauzier-hyperphoto.com
A description for those who don't like French
http://www.slate.com/blogs/behold/2012/10/04/hyper_photos_jean_fran_ois_rauzier_attempts_to_create_the_most_detailed_images_in_the_world_.html
Fear and Loathing with the bank.
So today began as normal. Woke up at 0630, watched some King of the Hill and chatted to y Parents before they both left for work.
I had an urge to eat some mushrooms. New crop coming soon and I don't want any losing their potency as I felt they did as they dried out.
I weighed out 1.7g - dry.
Let's say, as I was walking to my Town Centre about 40 minutes later on an empty stomach, I knew that their potency hadn't been lost.
At all. Not even diminished.
I made a beeline for a DIY shop. I knew the owner and rehearsed what I would say before I got there. Every time I burst into fits of laughter and then got there - grin suppressed. Things went well and I spent more money than I intended. Still, I did him a favour. I left with an order placed and a few blank DVD-R disks.
Up next, the Chemist.
"Oh fuck" my mind screamed. My pupils were like dinnerplates and the visuals began creeping in. After about 20 trips on mushrooms, I had only had about 3 or so Open Eye Visual experiences. I texted my friend, telling her what I had done and the pixels on my phone soon began to glow with a pink edge, followed by a 3-D feel. "I could hold this thing all day" I thought, as I waited in line at the Chemist, waiting to pick up my prescription. Fatboy Slim playing into my skull from my phone and earphones.
I pocketed it. The phone, that is. Not the music. No way could I hide what was going through my mind.
I was next in line. Looking to my left and right I saw some seats that were taken. The distorted faces! I felt like Hunter S Thompson taking the parking ticket in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas".
I looked out the corner of my eye again. Pursing my lips, looking very obvious, but at the time my wide-eyed glare seemed socially acceptable to me.
There was a mentally handicapped guy with a carer.
Swinging to look behind. There were more.
A shudder of terror made its way up my spine. I know that when I get to the desk I have to...
to what?
I just blurted out my name and that I had a prescription waiting, sucking my lips before and after.
Luckily they knew me well, and said it would be ready in 5 minutes.
I casually stolled down the other aisle to the supermarket nearby.
There were more of them.
More handicapped people.
"Oh no.." my mind cowered as I had flashbacks from "Day of the Dead" and "Dawn of the Dead". Their clanking metal machines making their way towards me.
Clank.
Clank.
"Oh no, over here!" the helper said, helping one out. I stared into his soulless eyes, the dribbling grin and at a wider glance, the diformed figure.
I made a beeline for the door.
"Jesus, God, why?" I kept repeating in my head, barging past a few OAPs and heading straight to buy some Red Bull. At this point I felt like I was flying. I didn't need this stuff that "gives you wings".
"Why hello there" I said to the shiny, scarlet tomato. "Are we going to get picked today" - I stared intently at it as the shelf-stacker was slowly movign away. Because of me?
I have no idea.
Soon I began to see that it wasn't a perfect circle. The cold can almost disappearing from my hand. The spherical object was warping, and as I looked into my peripheral vision, all of the others were, too. Like a magic-eye the broccoli, carrots, other tomatoes and potatoes were all coming alive!
"What a show" I muttered. An old woman next to me looking more than worried soon walked away.
There I was, in the fridge aisle of my local supermarket, talking to the fruit and veg, grasping a cold drink. My big MOLLE backpack on and - I just realised - my hood up.
I took it off,not wanting to look like a hooligan.
A hooligan?
I barged once again past people. At the time I felt like I was floating on air. Almost like a hoverboard but with legs. Full of energy I picked up some gum, contemplated the colourful, appealing gloos of some Tic Tacs and then made a run for the beer. As if it would disappear in the next few seconds.
"Why do I need this? I'm fucked enough as it is" I repeated parts of the sentence to myself in the queue
"Hey there, got your loyalty card?"
"Erm, wha? .. no, don't worry about that plastic..artificial" I blurted out as I clanged the 5 cans and pack of gun down onto the counter. The young lad insisted on bagging the items for eme despite a large backpack on me.
"Don't worry about ID", he then murmered something after finishing that sentence. I was more interested in the shimmering of bottles behind the checkouts.
"That'll be £5.20" he said, lookigng up at me, expectantly
"Ah great, I can use my shrapnel", i counted the money quickly and handed it over. My hand shaking, sweating. "Fuck the receipt" I thought as I grabbed the bag and headed outside to put it in my bag.
Plenty of space.
I struggled to place the purchases into my bag. The zip proved a real challenge.
Eventually I got it in as I dodged feelings of paranoia, thinking the guy that wanted to kill me was here, and back in the chemist I thought I saw a girl whom, despite her looks, still wanted a piece of me.
I was relieved as I sat down, to find it was not her.
It seemed the local population of welfare-sponges were out in force today, and I thought to yself about golf shoes. The scene from Fear and Loathing in my head as I cracked open the can of Red Bull and muttered the words "Disgusting..repulsive" at a £12 bottle of bath bubble stuff. My face matching the thoughts towards the evil bgreen bottle that wouldn't leave my damn sight! Everywhere I looked the tracers kept on coming. Before I knew it I was in a haze of open-eyed visuals, sat in the middle of a chemist with some undesirables and a pharmacist who could send me to the loony bin for a few days.
I composed myself as I closed my eyes. A presence was felt, as I opened them and looked up the Pharmacist who I knew well was staring at me.
"Are things alright?" she asked
"Oh yeah, just trying out some new...lifestyle changes" I blurted out, still fixated on sucking my lip, my pupils almost as big as 5p pieces.
"Ah it's a long road to recovery", "You bitch!" I thought, as I held the Morphine in my hand, thinking she was talking about that
"Surgery is never easy" she then followed up with as my eyebrows must have unnerved her. The can gripped tightly. Her eyebrows warping, and smile contorting, smaller and smaller.
I looked away.
That damned shelf again. The disgusting bottle of bath bubbles.
deciding I had nowhere to go, and it was only 10am, I put the prescription into the part of my bag which didn't have the booze in, and after some more small talk about possible rehab, I trotted out and across the road. Timing it perfectly.
The walk home found me listening to Rick James' "Superfreak" and "Cold Blooded". I passed a woman who had short hair, my kinda style, and leopard print tights.
As though I forgot she was a female, I muttered, audibly "Heh, it's Rick...", having flashbacks to a video interview of the Cocaine-freak superstar a few days before. The intro beat of "Cold Blooded" now making e suck my bottom lip more than ever. My eyes like a wild beast.
I'd have ravaged that junkie-looking streak of piss right there had nobody seen. It was purely the short hair. A fetish of mine.
Turning the corner like a B-56 Bomber, taking it wide I saw a kid on the way to the shops. I thought I recognised him.
My memory is improved on psychedelics, I find.
Sipping the last of the drink, I realised why he had flowers. Something I took notice of earlier. My earphones began playing "It was a good day" by Ice Cube. My walking slowed as I was fixated on the clouds, cars and sparkle of it all.
Nature and artificial man-made. I let out a sigh.
Anyway.
His Sister, a smoking hot girl I knew from years back, was getting married.
As she got into the car in a floundering dress, I kept staring as I walked.
"You need to sort yourself out. look at you!" I screamed at myself through my smile and raised eyebrows
"Hah, I'm 22 and don't give a shit. Shut up, brain" I said to myself. An old man mowing his lawn within earshot.
I was hung up on the thought of her. That dress. What was under it. Her jet black hair.
Almost Native Indian looking. A Buddhist-raised girl. A real stunner I wish I made more of an effort with.
I eventually got the key in the door and finished off the Red Bull. Peaking now.
And just as I was I got a text -
"I've sent you the cash to buy the goods".
A substantial amount was now in my account to buy some "goods" with BitCoins.
The next few hours were me stressing, tripping, meditating on the phone to SOCA and a Japanese bank, as BitCoin has been slowed to a trickle in the UK. The trip ended with 10mg Valium as things were getting to the point of being unbearably intense. The most important part, besides meditating and revising my younger self, was saying out loud "I'm going too fast, I can't keep up breathing".
That line resonated. It almost seemed a damned metaphor for my life as of the past 3 years.
I just thought I would share. Mushrooms fucking rock!
Just don't do what I did and follow the name of this Pink Floyd track. It was 08:50 when I took them, after all.
Plus I ended up proper monging out to this (click "Portfolio" drop downs and select a photo...)
http://www.rauzier-hyperphoto.com
A description for those who don't like French
http://www.slate.com/blogs/behold/2012/10/04/hyper_photos_jean_fran_ois_rauzier_attempts_to_create_the_most_detailed_images_in_the_world_.html