Archive for the 'psilocybin' Category

Nuclear Obliteration? AWESOME!!

One time we all ate Alien Turdz. Up on Spaceout Mountain. There were like 10 of us. It was a springtime Saturday in 1995. The first real warm day that spring.

Tons of people climb Spaceout Mountain. Especially on Saturday. But that one sun drenched spring Saturday everyone was lucky. Since miraculously no one besides us boisterously tripping space cases climbed Spaceout Mountain that day. A lucky break like I said because anyone who did — Sober People especially — would albeit inadvertently have Seen Too Much.

So we’d have to kill them.

Stupid Sober People.

I drooled. Giggled. Giggled & drooled. Giggled at the puddle of drool that collected on the ground beneath my chin; specifically at the colony of fairies that sprung to life from that drool puddle.

Drool fairies.

There were drool fairies because I was spun.


How spun?

Hard Spun.

Spun kookie.

Drool streamed merrily from my mouth.

“Blah blah blah.” Someone said. “Bla bl-blah bla sunglasses.”

The fairies rode the drool stream like a waterslide.

Someone nudged me.

It was Superstar Brown.

I want to write some words here to describe my friend Superstar Brown; deliver to my readers some clue about the benevolent enormity of his character.

His last name really is Brown. What else can I say about him?

I call him Superstar Brown.

“A little to the left!” He insisted.

I continually drooled.

Superstar Brown literally shook me from my inattentive yet blissful stupor.

Drool flew everywhere.

I laughed uproariously.

“Did you hear me?” He asked, seemingly excited about something.

“Oh shit yes!” I assured him. “Something about blah blah whatever SUNGLASSES!”

I wanted to stare at the ground and drool some more but Superstar Brown wouldn’t let me.

“Not whatever sunglasses. WEARING SUNGLASSES. Look!” He commanded. And pointed to the sky. “A little to the left.”

With my eyes I followed his gesture. He held his hands palm open toward the western horizon & nodded just slightly toward the south.

I stared. Drooled. And just about shit my pants.

“A little to the left??” I asked amazedly.

It was little to the left. Unmifrikkinstakably.

“A little to the left.” Superstar Brown assured me.

I attentively wiped some drool off my chin. Blinked. Blinked. Blinked again. Plainly I could not believe my eyes.

Superstar Brown beamed; pleased to no end.

“You see him!” My friend triumphantly exclaimed.

I nodded alertly.

“Wearing sunglasses.” I declared.

The sun had begun to set. It made the clouds all crimson & electrically groovy. We were on planet Earth.

Planet Earth is awesome dudes. Too bad we’re about to smolder it & her inhabitants like the ass hit of $20 rock in Superstar Brown’s crack pipe. Shit we may nuke Iran tonight. Or else we’d have to invade them the old fashioned way. You know, with troops.

The United States of America plans to invade Iran.

Begs the question:

With what Army?


So instead we nuke ’em. Nuke ’em tonight? Maybe even!

We might nuke Iran tonight.

When I grew up Ronald Reagan was president. As a child I feared him tremendously. I thought he would start a nuclear war. Maybe that very night! I attempted to wrap my formative brain around the notion. Find some way to make it OK. There was none. Sweatily anxiety-barbed chills crawled out of the marrow in my spine. I could not sleep.

Then my mom would have a terrifically awful time of it when she had to wake me up for school in the morning. We’d get in huge fights because I wanted to stay in bed. I would throw temper tantrums. My mom would tremble tearfully and often had full blown on-the-spot nervous breakdowns.

And sometimes I would want there to be nuclear war before school started the next day. Because I rarely did my homework. And if there was nuclear war I would not have to go to school & get scolded.

Guess there’s always an Upside.

But mostly I’ve spent my life in revulsion of the nuclear obliteration possibility.

Until very recently.

We all saw it. A little to the left? Not sure what it meant exactly. Left of what? Dunno. The middle of the sky maybe? Maybe. But no matter. What counts is the sunglasses.

I saw them. Saw what Superstar Brown meant. 15 years later I am still plumb giddy — I mean pleased as a dosed bowl of punch — about it.

It was Jerry Garcia. Well it was a cloud. But a cloud which I recognized immediately as Jerry. As though the cloud were sculpted to his likeness. I mean this cloud looked so much like Jerry Garcia it must have been. A work of art! Truly.

Me & Superstar Brown high-5’d elatedly.

Mo-frikkin SUNGLASSSES — wearing ’em!!

I was stunned. Stunned as if the sky suddenly turned yellow & the sun went electrical blue. It was strange but I coped; with the aid of a few billion rawly rip-blasted lung loads of laughter.

Is it a Drug Hallucination if everyone sees the same thing?

There’s no such thing as hallucinations; just things seen more readily when you’re tripping.

Hunter S. Thompson wrote that shortly before he died allegedly.

Certainly one may not refute the good doctor’s logic. What is a hallucination? Something you see. Like green leafs on a tree. Which actually are not green. Rather, tree leaves reflect waves of sunlight which travel within a particular range of velocities; velocities that in turn are absorbed by our eyeballs; velocities which sing to the tune of green. Put simply: green is not a color. It is a speed.

There’s no such thing as green. But some greens — like an alien’s phantom green hue — are seen more readily when you’re tripping.

I am madly tempted to twist this argument in high gear all the way around the steered-with one knee Bend — and propose thus: There Is No Such Thing As Reality.

No such thing as Reality. Then what is there?


In all actuality Reality is a farce. Because by its nature Reality is something we are stuck with. It can not be altered and it automatically sucks.

The Reality is that you have to buy the ticket if you want to take the ride.

Actually we can ride for free.

Ride is a Verb. Actuality is a noun. Reality is a noun. Actualize is a verb. Ride is a noun. Ride & Actuality can morph from noun to verb & Go. Ride. Actualize. Go.

Reality makes no such adjustment on its own behalf. Reality does not become a verb. Reality does not exist because it does not have the power to Go.

Jerry Garcia was actually up there in the sky above Spaceout Mountain the one time we all got faced on Alien Turdz. That is to say that we all saw him. First Superstar Brown. Then he showed me.

“Motherfucker’s wearing SUNGLASSES!!” I shouted ecstatically.

“I was not shitting you.” Superstar Brown said.


It was different from seeing Jerry Garcia play his guitar onstage. In part because he had no hands. Just his head. From the chin up. I swear it was Jerry. I swear! Plus I never heard Superstar Brown say it was Jerry. All I knew was something a little to the left & sunglasses. But the second I saw that fucker I knew exactly what Superstar Brown wanted me to see. Or should I say who he wanted me to see. Jerry I tell you! Or perhaps it was actually a cloud that turned into some dude who coincidentally looked just like Jerry Garcia.

Maybe whoever it was did it just to fuck with us because he knew we were tripping on shrooms.

Either way the cloud, in all verifiable actuality, was very cool — cool like a ZZ Top song — because it sported a spiffy pair of sunglasses.

This I know beyond certainty: Jerry was alive that day; he did not die until several months after we all saw him up in the sky.

It was the last time Superstar Brown saw the beloved Fat Man.

And you know what? Even if we made it all up — it still qualifies as a bona fide Jerry Garcia actualization.

Actual is conceptually very nifty.

What is a cloud in actuality?

Clouded actuality.

In actuality what is a cloud?

Awesome. Like an open container of billion proof make believe. Clouds are awesome dudes.

YEAH! Can ya smoke ’em?

If you chow down enough Alien Turdz I bet you — you can probably pull a cloud clear down from the Blue & smoke the fucker for breakfast. That’s why Alien Turdz — which actually are a kind of mushroom that grows on Pluto only — are way bitch ass awesome too.

Mushrooms from Pluto & clouds on planet Earth. Man. Clouds. Mushrooms. 2 of the finest things in the cosmos don’t you think? You do! Smoking clouds for breakfast after you chow Alien Turdz is cooler than an alien chick with 3 phantom green boobs.

Mushrooms. Clouds. WooHOO!!

Mushrooms. Clouds? Mushroom clouds. Hey…that’s what happens when you’re nuked!!

Mushroom clouds the size of the Empire State Building. Right? Mushrooms. Clouds. Both good. Mushroom clouds: HUGE! Sounds to me like more of a good thing!!

Hey. Ya know? They also say drugs are like these terrible things. We know that’s an obscene lie. So when They say nuclear fallout is a terrible thing — why the fuck should we believe Them?

Now all of the sudden I can’t stop thinking about how super excellent it’ll be to get obliterated atomically!!

Clouds. Mushrooms. Brilliant.

And that is why I support Iran’s pursuit of nuclear weapon technology.

So they can Bring It On motherfuckers!

I mean we could nuke Iran tonight. We will maybe. But if they can’t nuke us back well come on Georgie: What’s in it for me??

Yeah — and one more thing! Missile defense? But…what if it works? Say you shoot an incoming nuke out of the sky.

How will I get My Rocks Off then you bastards?

I tell you it’s a trampling violation of my damn Civil Liberties.

Which proves my point once again: You got to fight for your right to Party.

Dear Drugs: THANK YOU!! for a real good time..


Without illegal drugs, my life, up till & including tonight, would have sucked toast. Way bogus. I mean bad; a total waste of time.

It would have all been so stupid!!

Shit yes. I have problems. My life has been hard. But when I’ve needed them drugs have been there for me. When I had nowhere else to turn it was drugs that saved the day.

Even when my life sucks directly because of drugs it still beats the sad crap out of how bad life would suck with no drugs at all. I will go so far as to say I feel certain I would’ve killed myself long ago if the drugs weren’t on my side.

Why? Because drugs gave me something to live for. A reason to stay awake for another day & night when the sun comes up each morning. Yeah & you know what?

Drugs give me Hope!

Mostly they’ve helped me celebrate life with people I love. I am going to die one day. When I do I’ll look back over this 1 & 3/4 decades-long drug binge and congratulate myself for a job smashingly well done. Yeppers kiddoz! My first hit of weed was the smartest choice I ever made. Until I finally got to check out some of that L$D!!

And when you go without food — due to smoldering abject poverty — for a day or few you will thank Adolph Hitler, Sweet Mother Earth and maybe even Jesus — that evil cocksucker — for all the amphetamines.

So thanks again drugs. Just sorry you had to wear off so soon. Ya’ll come back now y’hear!

Ok. Off to sleep.


Mom-proof blog-post Goes Astray

A question for my readers:

If you had a blog like Open Container speedWay would you give your mother the address?

I think not. For her own Good…She’s on my side. Shit she bought me my lap-top! And she knows my plight. But she surely needn’t learn the garish details.

Consider: my mother was last employed as the pastor for two Methodist parishes in central Maine.

Does she really need to know her son is a close relative to the good-time Devil himself??

My answer to the mom quandary has been to cut paste & email her when occasionally I deem a post mom-proof. Like my last — poet without equal. One swear the whole way through and not a single drug reference. No gratutitous bigotry. Came off I’d say fuck-near respectably…

So I emailed it to her — Subject: Mom-Proof Blogpost. Spliced in a few links because I wanted her to see what kind of cool folks I’ve met hanging around & blogging.


Here verbatim is the resultant IM volley between Mom & me…

Mom: I have a confession to make.

me: confession??

Mom: Yeah! I found your blog.

me: ARG!!

Mom: Why ARG!!

me: Are you sure you want to read it??

Mom: Yes! and I was pretty impressed by what I did read. However, if you prefer I not read it, I won’t. I probably shouldn’t have looked for it without asking you but I did. I figured one of the links in the blog you sent would have a link to your blog, which is how I found it.

me: Like sneaking through the side-door at a Phish show!! long ago?

Mom: Last night!

me: You know when I added those links I figured you’d be maybe able to find me.

Mom: So it’s ok?

me: I’ll make a cup of tea & ponder for a moment…

Mom: Aslan [my nephew/mom’s grandson] is home sick today – strep throat – and I think I’m coming down with it too. Yuck!

me: yeah everyones got the Yuck around here tooo

Mom: BTW, your formatting in a blog email doesn’t come through. Looks much more better at your blog site. How about you? Do you have the yuck?
Aslan says Hi!

me: Hi aslan!!

Mom: Anyway, if you don’t want me to read it, I won’t.
Aslan wants me to tell you we’re watching Monty Python. Do you like his stuff?

me: Me, no havey the Yuck — if I had the time & space I might come down w/something…probably enjoy it w/my own bed & a kitchen to make soup
Love monty python. Barrel of laughs

Mom: We’re about to watch the tale of Sir Lancelot. Actually, I’m not really watching it; just tuning in.

Mom: U still there?

me: yeah someone just stopped by,
Get this: my friend who just stopped by has a few hours of work for me so I’m off to do that! I’m going to help him demolish a house. Actual work…for MONEY!!

Mom: That’ll be cool! Great release too! Where are you now?

me: KC’s

Mom: I have to admit, I was awfully distressed to read that you’re going for days at a time without sleep.

me: As far as my blog goes mom…I’d love for you to read it BUT…there’s stuff on there YOU may not want to read

Mom: I love reading what you’ve written. And I fully expected I might read things you hadn’t told me.

me: On the other hand I’m proud of my blog more than anything for its honesty…my main concern about you reading it — besides making you old before your time — is that I’d feel the need to censor myself.

Mom: Due to “eavesdropping?”

me: Yeah — almost like you being right there next to me at the party I described in an earlier post where I threw my adderall up after eating LSD…that sort of thing.
Ok I’ll let you digest that. I’m off to tear a house down.

Well. One thing I learned: I will not censor my blog for my mother’s benefit. Any more than she would Praise Shrooms for my benefit when I’d go to her church sermons.

Speaking of psilocybin mushrooms — if you’re still here, Mom, I’d love for you to pop in on this post I wrote a while back. Like the folks in the described study, shrooms have been cosmically good to me.

I’ve mentioned that before. But one thing I’ve never told my Mom is:

Psilocybin mushrooms may prove miraculously beneficial to you too. Give it a prayer & some well informed thought!

Well. Mom. Hunter S. Thompson once said “You Buy the Ticket. You Take the Ride.” I think he meant things like when you sneak onto your son’s blog & next thing you know you’re praying to Jesus about whether or not to try Shrooms!

Oh & one other thing Mom: I love you. Leave a comment if you like & please stop by anytime…

Some speedWay regulars may be in shock over what they’ve just read. Not about my mom or anything. But because of the bit about me going to Work!

I shit you not — happened just like I said.

What can I say? There’s a house to be torn down. And my friend wanted to pay me to help do it. So I did. Pulled nails out of boards mostly. Worked a full-on 3 hour day!

Call me Demolition Mike E.

Praise Sweet Mother Earth for the bucket-loads of rain that make it so I can’t work today!

At long last — a hard-earned break from the daily grind. I should celebrate!

Empty Couches & Free Shrooms

3AM today:

Some dude I barely know chased me down the street as I walked away when the Bar closed. He handed me a rolled up baggie. Said two words: ‘Shrooms, dude.’ Then hustled off & was gone.

A random act of SuperCool! I was too stunned to say Thank You.

A few minutes later I curled up for some sleep in the laundry room of a random apartment building. There’s probably a hundred couches around town I could’ve crashed on. They belong to friends who’re well aware that I’ve no digs of my own. But — for their reasons — none cared to offer.

I respect that. So I politely refrain from asking.

I believe it was Gandalf who said, ‘Help not looked for is the greatest help indeed.’ Like a bag of free shrooms from the dude who stoked my faith in the essential goodness of people.

Thank you!

Plumb Groovy

Went to a Party last night & boy I will tell you what!

Hoo hoo

I’d write about it but I’m Lzay. And fresh out of amphetamines.

Good thing I’m a deft word-thief!

Leighton cook is my new favorite blog-poet wierdo — live from the fantom-green mists of Amsterdam. She blogs about wizardry mostly. Spars with the Government, like everyone, and occasionally — ie this morning — tells about how her face got shroomed off from last night’s bomb brew of tea.

This time Soma added lavender from the balcony to the tea which seemed to make the taste and effect different in a subtle way. We drank Equadorian, Hawaiian, Thai, Columbian and Copelandia and Peyote butttons. The first hour was like ten rounds with Muhammad Ali then all was so clear, cool and sober. It was awesome dude.YEAH ShaZAM she is a Contender!!

Super Cool. Nice to meet you Fellow Traveler she-dude.

We stirred up a pot of chai, fresh local honey & Oregon cubensis brew. At daybreak. Like Shadowfax & Gandalf & 1,000 Rohirrim crashin the party at Helms Deep.

Then I sat in a chair for a long while ’cause I felt too plumb groovy to move.