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.

Shroom Fail

Did shrooms the other day. Rather it was just one shroom, a bulbous stem. I ate him with a bite of chocolate.

Rather than go outdoors to “commune with Nature” I stayed right here online, my natural habitat.

In case anyone wanted to talk to me, I put up a picture of Shiva…

…but all Shiva did was waver slightly.

So I tried Summer Glau, the new Terminator…

Nothing. Finally, Kali…

Again, nothing!  A trifecta of disappointment! When the Blue gods and a sexy Terminator don’t have time for you, fuck it, go do something else.

I think people who boast of seeing wild shit while shroomin’ are as full of shit as the shit that shrooms grow in. I’ve done it a few times, and while it does affect your mood, other than a slight wavering I never hallucinated or saw anything fantastical.

Palm Breeze

Right now it’s 17:47 and I’m in Howieland. First I took a few small twigs of shroom, followed by “medicinal” mary…a $25 J as perfectly rolled as a cigarette, comes in its own screwtop glass tube. My whole head feels like your palm when you stick it out the car window doing 40. My eyes are painless but look like eggs and ketchup. I feel like a statue in the seat of a roller coaster, unmoving yet moving FAST. There are cookies EVERYWHERE, real ones, and fried chicken and sandwiches. The place is it to myself.

Thank you Santa!

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It’s now a few hours later. I was grinning like a mild idiot watching an ancient movie called “The Manhattan Project” about a 16-year-old genius who “borrows” some plutonium and builds his own atom bomb (lucky for us, the kid is White and non-Muslim). The kid, whose acting career has fizzled since, especially compared to his then-hot movie girlfriend Cynthia Nixon (later the “dykey” red-haired wench on Sex and the Nonstop-Yapping), runs around town being chased by the actor who later became “Frasier’s” father playing the hapless military goofball trying to catch him.

This ridiculous piece of cine-fluff is saved by the great John Lithgow, who by himself suspends disbelief for everyone else. He had one kick-ass line that should be applied to all terrorists today: “Lock them in a room…and throw away the room”.

I now have a mild “stoneover”, a word I refuse to believe I coined, where my head feels like a painless ball of needless pressure. I worked out and now am waiting to see if Spike will cancel on me for goin’ out. Life rolls on a like a turd.