JERKING OFF IS LIKE A BREAKFAST BAR

Dropped a small amount of shrooms–stems only–no caps. I chanted over the dried bits and pieces which look like twigs and I chanted while beginning the trip which turned out to be a dud. My pupils did not dilate, I had no hallucinations. I jerked it, then took a shower (always a brilliant idea, dropping mind-altering substances and then standing on a wet, slippery surface).

I’m sorry this post will go nowhere, but NOTHING happened except I got a small burst of energy and the title for this post: JERKING OFF IS LIKE A BREAKFAST BAR. Because it doesn’t have to be breakfast time to enjoy one. Oh no, you can jerk off evenings, Tuesdays, one minute past high noon and in the fountain at the mall, as long as you can outrace Security with your pants around your anks.

The shrooms did not enhance the onanistic experience. Perhaps my dreams will rock…

Before all of this shroom business I surfed the internet for the phrase, “Accept there is no justice”. The reason no one accepts this obvious truth is their ego is in the way. No one likes to be shat upon and revenge is very close in the hearts of humans, like a rifle hidden just inside the jamb of the front door.

Earlier today I explained to a Buddhist woman that I believe there is a God, as in an intelligent, conscious energy with thoughts of its own. She disagreed, using the sentiment that, “We are God,” not in a blasphemous way but in the sense We are the Perceivers. I have no beef with that, I was more annoyed she doesn’t smoke dope anymore. Ironically or not, historically-speaking, the best-functioning religion that’s caused the least harm appears to be Buddhism, an atheistic religion.

I didn’t mention today was the 4th of July right away because I’m not feeling it. With a respectful nod to American soldiers who gave their sanity, limbs and lives, I have no independence of my own, all my so-called personal freedom is mixed with severe punishment. After all, one is free to quit one’s hated job and starve on the street. One is free to choose drugs and then be warehoused in nigger college, aka prison. One is free to write the words “nigger college” and then have the hyenas and jackals scream for one’s politically-incorrect head. One is free to jump off a tall building, only to discover one’s freedom to fly ends as gravity begins.

I just ran to the bathroom to check my pupils. If they were ever abnormally large they’re back to normal now. It’s one hour into July 5th, everything is back to normal, we can forget freedom and sacrifice for another year.

Craving for extermination

“All they do is take.”  My voice is weak like someone found near death in the desert.  I speak to his gold-rimmed glasses more than his swimming, frightened eyes.

He’s higher up on the food chain.  At night he fucks a hot divorcée who used to work here.

‘We’re all just numbers,” he says with sympathy.

He is right, but when they fuck him it’s with more and better lube.

The whole thing is a joke.  This isn’t a real job, he isn’t real, the walls aren’t real.  When I tell Glasses morale here is non-existent the HR cunt sticks her ugly mushroom head out of her windowless office.

“We’re having a meeting about that.”

I want to throw her against the cinder block wall which isn’t real.

I can’t hate Glasses in the manner he deserves, he’s so sympathetic to the eternal screwings of the dead-end job.

Bullshit, of course.

I am getting fucked with a dildo of sand and grit.

Our meeting ends.  In the restroom I piss in the sink.  In the mirror is the only motherfucker who will fight for me.  He has to get me out of this mess, no one else can or will.

I have a craving for extermination like the Buddha warned I would.

Will it be them or me?