the weekend is dead.
long live the weekend.
please disregard my previous post about mescaline not working for me. i know better now. it works, and it works well.
i drank tea with the hatter about 10pm Saturday night, wrote and worked on some music for a while. smoked and watched some cartoons. nothing really happened, but i was in a good mood. i tried to go to bed around 3:30, only to be driven out by my lack of satisfaction with myself. and so, around 4:00 i took another two hits, dropped Ellington's indigos and burned another one. that's when the fun started.
first off, Ellington's indigos is magic in and of itself. period. but when the trees outside of my door begin to look like one of those magic eye, hidden image posters, i knew i was definitely on some other shit. i sat there for about a year, then laid on my Cadillac and watched the stars for another. and thought. i jumped up just in time to avoid a spotlight from the neighborhood patrol, locked up the basement and went upstairs to play some guitar. the moving carpet convinced me that this was way stronger than mushrooms, and the rich tones of the guitar told me it was the best shit since sliced bread. so i sat there and played for a few months, watching the strings vibrate and blend into one another, along with the atoms on my arm.
thinking it must be near morning, i thought id try to go to sleep. i look at my phone. its only like six o'clock. holy shit. up in my room I'm lighting candles and listening to music on my phone. the candle light bends shadows along with the walls. the music is rich; i lose myself in every song. of course i am thinking of her; my sense of smell is exaggerated, and every way i lay there she is. its comforting. i look at my phone again. its only 6:10.
with my eyes closed the visualizations are more intense. i am moving in a black void. time is at a crawl. more thoughts, lucid dreams, i am living lifetimes. look at my phone again. its only 630.
the sun is coming up, orange sheets and multicolored prayer flags tickle my mind. this is definitely a high point. the colors, the new sunlight, the smell. trapped in the space between waking and dreaming; i am not sure whats real and whats not. i am lost in thoughts and a sea of orange and green. i love myself and get up to shower. i am too excited to sleep. its only 7:00.
until now id thought only the night held magic, but it seems the sun has its own tricks. the bathroom is a brighter green than its ever been, the water cold and refreshing. i go down into the studio and johns already there. I'm sleep deprived and tripping balls. time to roll a blunt. and fuck it, I'm all in; so i take another two hits.
its not before we start on a song. I'm writing rhymes on my blackberry. its hard to type while the keypad bubbles and floats. once I'm in the booth, lit only by my screen, its the text that bubbles and floats. I'm not sure where the rhymes are coming from....
"trying to make a family off of anti matter; a little more off the cuff id have mine would you rather?...."
I'm feeling cooped up, so it back to the Cadillac for more cloud watching. i realize that the clouds aren't moving so much as we are. i feel the earth spinning, i see the strings that make up our quantum world. my cousin calls and i try to explain, but cant. kuba calls and i don't.
more music, more folks over to visit. i don't care; I'm oblivious.
i am amazed by clouds, by beats, by all. the world is new to me again, and i am saddened a little when nightfall comes. i have found golden spirals in tree limbs and seen fractional geometry in action. yes it was hallucinations, but who's to say that's not the case with sight itself anyway? we don't ever really see things, we see the light bouncing off of them, with that image then interpreted by the brain which then tells you what your looking. my point being; your senses cant be trusted anyway. as the sun sets it rains a bit, and i walk in it. its warm and inviting. seems summer is never really gone. by the time i record my last verse of the day, the keypad stays mostly still, the screens glow in the booth is a little less hypnotic.
"nice to see you. it was a 24 hour trip to get here. now I'm ready to rip so don't get all flip about the lip, hear? I'm tripping balls right now, how in the fuck did you get here?"
i crawl back into bed about ten. one candle still burns, but my sheets only smell like me. this trip is mostly over.
what have i learned? I'm not completely sure yet. it seems to have kick started my creativity at least. the three songs i recorded saw me use some of the most whimsical rhyme patterns I've employed in years. apparently i play a mean guitar too. beyond that, I'm not sure.
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