I can’t seem to write anything worth a damn when my life isn’t fucked up. Sadness doesn’t just make me happy, it makes me an artist. I’m entirely un-inspiration unless my mind is altered — scrambled like an egg on a hot, un-oiled pan.
With an acid tab under my tongue, I decided to spill my brain cells into the leather mole skin on my desk — my acid tablet. I hadn’t jotted down a word I was proud of for some time. Maybe this is what I needed? Time to “turn on, tune in and drop out,” I thought as I began to feel the effects of the LSD…
TRANSLATION: Orange juice is perfect. Not for its effect on my palette, but its ability to get me in a moment. The first piss is crutial (sp) to a man’s night. A lot of decision making happens when my dick is in my hand. The bathroom transforms from just a room, it’s a stage…
TRANSLATION: And you can’t help but stand up & breathe (sp) in… Wake up… have fun buddy… your girlfriend is beautiful. She’s pretty because when she smiles, I can see my life taking place in her eyes.
TRANSLATION: Drawing a good tree doesn’t take an artist… it just takes someone willing to dig the bark with…
TRANSLATION: What’s necessary for this TALE? Wikka ehikka koo?
At this point, a friend puts on the movie The Shining. Shit gets weird.
TRANSLATION: I’m tricking myself into believing that I’m actually coming alive from the movie.
TRANSLATION: You get isolated in your own head.
TRANSLATION: I’m stuck in this constene (edited to: conscience)
TRANSLATION: Your head’s living room…
TRANSLATION: It’s your own *scribbles*, your hiding it. I’m stuck in the movie & trying to get out.
TRANSLATION: Oh feel better & forget it. Shit. You feel isolated now.
TRANSLATION: It’s because you are the character.
TRANSLATION: I’m warming up to it… because they’re talking about your hidden nightmare.
After I turned the movie off because I was afraid I was going to kill my friends with an axe, I became more calm. It took the Pink Floyd Pandora radio station and a blunt until I was able to find some clarity.
TRANSLATION: I just feel like time isn’t fluid like we think it is. Like there is some stopping and starting that happens too fast for us to notice, Like we aren’t the same person in the mornings as we are when we fall asleep at night. Do you think you’re the same man as the humans who used to kill for their food? You can’t even phathom (sp) that lifestyle. As a species we change. Everything in nature comes from something completely different. Why do we assume our consciousness is static?