8,942 Days or The Progress of Metaphysical change

Today I woke up and finally felt physically capable of wasting my time typing on this computer, not that I was sick or anything, but because my body has been filled with toxins and psychedelics of varying degree. I've been retracing the steps of my youth in this my hometown and finding where old friends may have ended up. Some are dead, many are in jail, and some have fat pockets whom have yet to be jailed. This last category has interested me to the degree that if these people were to slowly become introduced to a greater reality, they themselves and their money could be used to a greater potential of existence.

That being said, a few days ago I took a 3 hour ride to score some LSD drenched sugar cubes I had left for "safe keeping" with a friend and felt the time was nigh to use them towards some purpose. I got back to the house and fed the cubes along with some rainy-day blotter to a hip-hop producing, herb slinging friend of mine who I hadn't spoken to in years up until a week ago when our encounter inspired me to produce this blog.After waiting for the onset, I was absolutely shocked to hear that my old-friend whom we will call David was not only un-aware of who the Grateful Dead were, or the Merry-Pranksters, as I showed him the haight-asbury blotter hits I procured. In fact, he had never heard anything about a 1960's revolution at all. My mind was blown. Hippies? LSD? The Vietnam war? Protests? Political change? Nope, nothing. I had no idea where to start the conversation as typically I spend the first hour or so before an acid trip explaining it's origin. Liberalisation that happened throughout the 20th century radically shaped our world and the atmosphere in which we live in today, and its not that David is stupid for not understanding any of this, it was just that having been exposed his whole live to this dog-eat-dog shallow consumer existence, the bar was placed so low as to understanding human history or cultural evolution that he was simply unaware of little that fell outside his own existence. And the ironic part is that David is one of the very few individuals I've found from the old days who does have an understanding of whats going on, as he had said to me in his own words, "Its like this whole system is designed to keep you busy, keep your mind occupied, so you never know whats really going on...They don't even have to do anything to us, just keep our minds on that dirty patch on the floor we have to vacuum.."

David ingested the chemical with two-friends whom he brought along, eating about 4 himself and giving 2 each to his friends. I of course was matching Davids dose as we began to come up. After what seemed like an exhausting explanation of how Acid is inseparably bound to music, art, and free-expression I basically gave up for the night as the grinning faces began wondering around the apartment. I didn't need to explain anything more, I just laid back on my couch and cranked the volume on some 1971 Dead show and watched David laughing and speaking in incoherent sentences having to stop and pause in amazement now and then at the music coming from the speakers. "I've never heard any music like this before.....is this even music?...what is music?.."

Some time after this I felt the next wave was necessary. We had about 6-7 more sugar cubes that nobody wanted to stomach, including one 18 year old girl whom I had already tore into existentially a few times before dosing as she tried playing manipulative convince me of this or that games which I could tell was a mind-fuck bad trip waiting to happen. So after making her sit out the first wave, I stirred all the rest of the cubes into half a glass of kool-aid that we handed around taking equal sips out of.The rest of the night began to head exactly where I wanted it to. David felt invigorated with a sense of this great new world with infinite possibilities. However, as is traditional with hour 5 or so hits, the incoherent conversation began to turn into sweaty-palms and momentary bouts of confusion and fear that swept over the girl every five minutes or so and really started to effect the rest of the group. At one point she ran over to my television and turned it off, because the psychedelic-trance music I was listening to was "too much!" for her. This was about the close of the night after I explained that what was going on was only in her own head, and until she realized that it would infect everyone else around her. They began to relax with this information but were far-too erratic in their behavior, so after dealing with a couple hours of babysitting and knowing these kids only had another few hours of winding-down to do, I kicked them out into the night to make sense of it for themselves, and David though welcome went with them.I guess in hindsight this part of the last few days really isn't even the focal point, it is just needed to provide a background for which the rest of my post to truly make sense. For example I've eaten acid probably 500 times, or 2-3 thousand hits depending on how you view it. The point is that the trip wasn't for me. It was for David (and partially his friends) whose live will be irrevocably changed as a result of our session. Where once there may have been a lack of knowledge, their is now a desire to learn. But still that is just taking off the training wheels. As you can probably come to understand through most of your readings through my blog the emphasis is on creating a free world, filled with laughter, travel, art, music, dancing, love-making, and occasionally sleeping. The rest is all filler or bullshit to keep you, your friends, or your family locked into a cycle of unchanging obedience to those that daily rape you of your paycheck again, and again, and again. This isn't some wild leftist theory, its economics 101.

Getting back to the point however, how does one create a new world or leisure, love, music, and art? For myself it has always been prominent in the electronic music scene. People dancing together in tribal rhythmic union, with shameless smiles on their faces, with others sitting under nearby trees outside discussing metaphysics or politics. Of course you can go to a club in downtown anywhere and find every disgusting by-product of what is meant to be a loving and evolving scene, namely: fights, drug-dealing, prostitution, $20 entry fees, dress codes, and $8 drinks. This is the electronic music scene the world knows, and they call them raves. Raves are to trippy outdoor parties, what genetically-engineered McDonald's hamburgers containing fecal matter are to a delicious meal of corn on the cob that you and your cousin Earl picked this morning. The underground music scene is exactly what it needs to be, underground, contained, not open to Capitalistic raping and re-selling as the next ridiculous fashion. All you need are organizers like me, sound guys like my buddy El Train, investors like my newly initiated friend David, and artists and musicians like my friend Tim who I talked all night with about this very matter a few days ago...

The point is that a world of our own creating is not only possible but is being experienced right now. Everyday you turn on the television instead of going for a walk, eveytime you gossip instead of have a meaningful or pleasent conversation, everytime you buy a $30 T-shirt when you can get one for 50 cents or even for free at the good-will you are letting someone else create your world for you..

9 to 5 living-death syndrome

It is more than apparent to me what has happened throughout the course of my life. Since the time I was a child there was a product, television show, mass-produced medical cure all or object to fufill any desire whether carnal or psychological to put my momentary crisis at rest. Philosophy, Psychology, Sociology, Anthropology, and questioning authority were the last if not completely non-existant methods of personal descovery to employ. We went to school and my father worked while my mom cleaned the house. When everyone came home, we watched television and that was it. That was life.I don't doubt that there are lots of families out there who may have endeavored to go on bike rides, go camping and tell stories around the fire, but for me and the damn near 100% majority of kids who grew up in my nowhere city the only possible escape from tedium was to buy somthing: Candy, skateboards, movies, video games, etc. This lasted until our later years when the existential crisis began to emerge. The game remained the same but the toys were different: marijuana, cars, guns, zanax pills, heroin, cocaine, computers and computer games. And allthough since these initial realizations I have traveled throughout every possible economic background or mental framework to realize the hidden truths of our world, in my poverty-stricken, drug-addicted nowhere city I can find nobody else to help me type these sentences. They are all dead, in jail, or completely lost in the routine of 9 to 5 living hell..

Now it may be true that many people will claim "comfort" or "satisfaction" when questioned in their cushy apartments, but the vast majority or all my freinds still hate their jobs, the current global situation or even their own boyfreinds/girlfreinds which they live with in said apartments. They don't get upset like I do, because they simply don't know what they are missing or don't care. "How could you not want to visit Canada with me? NYC? California? Europe?" I will often ask. And the answer is always the same, "We cant." Because if they did there bitch ass girlfreind won't like it and will leave them, or they will lose their shitty management position at Bob Evan's or Perkins steakhouse. And jesus, they might not be able to pay for a cushy apartment to keep their television in!

Despite having any of these things I have managed to travel to exotic locations, dance the night away with weirdos, wackos, artists, and anarchists, trip out on free psychedelic vacations, and even find an inner core of people so closely alligned with these ideals and experiences of mine that I consider them family. And I cannot help but look back with astonishment to my high-school freinds who went on to never leave the state, or at best make a once a year pilgrimage one state over, yet they are still "comfortable" and "satisfied".

What a waste I think, to be so cut off from this massive, mind-blowingly huge spinning blue ball and its lifetime of infinite possibilities and experiences. And the only answer I can come to is that they lack the awareness or "consciousness" that their indoor and at-work world has been pre-fabricated by a political-economic system that is locked in an endless handshake...But its okay, they will vote Democrat....

So how do we escape this madness, and adopt the pure freedom and independence from work and authority that secretly we all must crave as part of our natural human disposition? Embrace the unknown, embrace change, and let your heart beat faster as the safety lines are released from your harness and for maybe the first time in your life you feel as if anything could happen, because you have absolutely no idea what is going to come by next. This thrill is called living. The caveman had it when he hunted giant game, the pirates had it when they sailed the seas not knowing if they will ever make it back to land, and I have it everytime I board a greyhound to some new place where multitudes of people I have never known await me. But the payoff isnt in the initial rush, but in the realization that others like you are everywhere and in many cases are not only dying to meet you, but have guess what? A house, a couch, a floor with blankets, a hot meal, or just a memorable conversation to share with you...

The problem is you will never know until you let go.But its not like your doomed to some life of nomadic wondering, unless you want that of course. When people of like minds share resources the amount of anything that each person requires individually descreases exponentially. For example, one of my current projects is a collective house system a few hours north of my current location in front of this computer. By finding only 10 or so people who can afford to find $50 a month to drop on a time-share sort of situation, we can now posess a house with utilities on, and more than enough room for anyones sleeping bag. Of course there are considerations like no drugs kept in the house other than those you wish to consume that night, but with this system a kid working part-time at McDonalds may have more disposable income than some professional-type with a huge apartment and outrageous car payments. Shit...You could even play a guitar on the corner or spange $50 a month.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying there wont be trials on your escape from wage-slavery. You may find yourself not getting along with the people in your collective or house, you may sometimes find yourself taking a bath in an Exxon bathroom with a bar of soap and a rag in the sink, you may even find yourself staying under a bride for the night while waiting for the rain to sibside, or of course, it may just be smooth sailing all the way. The point is you will never even know of the obstacles let alone how to overcome them without embracing the possibility of change in your individual life, of evolution in your life one could say.

Would you like to get started now and don't know where to start? Your freinds, family, or co-workers may not be willing to help, but I am. - pmanarchist@gmail.com

Worldwide Communist Gangster Computer God

Recently I have found endless facsination with the rantings of one Francis E. Dec Esquire, the self-proclaimed savior of the human race and conspiracy-theorist who spent his entire destitute life propelgating self-written and printed propoganda. Allthough right from the outset the messages Mr. Dec seem inoculated with schizophrenic fantasies and paranoia, a certain dead on accuracy exists in his bizarre interpretations of reality..

Most of these rants of since been turned into part of a 40 minute recording by a small time dj who did a live voice over to the material, in as serious a tone as the original document permits. For example, Mr. Dec sees the technological achievments of the 20th centure to have spiraled so far out of control of ANY human, that it is now in fact a quasi-living entity which he so adimitly refers to as the "Worldwide Communist Gangster Computer God". The Computer-God basically being an amalgamation of all worldwide trade, electronic function and computerized control which in turn makes the entire global economy and pollitical structure go round.

Through lifelong "Brainwash Radio" and "Eyesight television" the computer god keeps you locked into a survatudal life of ignorance and habit, or as Mr. Dec so elequently puts it... "You are living in worldwide living-death frankenstein slavery."For more information of Mr. Dec try youtube or wikipedia which house virtually all his writings.

Bums in the basement

It recently accured to me how absurd my current living arrangements are. Im currently renting a room off of my older and rather sick father who spends his days spinning off into 9 to 5 television-oblivion, to help him pay his bills and to give me a place to rest my head for the week or so each month that I'm not on the road traveling or exploring the sub-cultural happenings of whatever random city I'm in at the time.
After a few hours of basic tedium as I was home only long enough to meet up with an aquantence before I left town again, I went out in search of a blunts worth of marijuana to puff on while I grooved to some toons and waited for my buddy to arrive. When I stepped out the front door I saw a hobo dressed in filthy rags lying in a crouched position behind the wall of my front porch. "Rich" as we knew the man would spontaneously come out of the alleys every so often to clean our backyard without any prior agreement with us or request by us. Eventually this led to a random ten bucks here or there for his troubles and the ability to "store some boxes" in the basement.
In a trembled and quiet voice Rich remarked from his horrizontal position "...Im hiding...". Puzzled and doing my best to fight back a laugh I asked what he was hiding from and he said, "see the guy in the blue jacket......he's out for me!" I looked up to see another scraggly old hobo across the street who seemed too zombified to know or care who or what was on the street across from him. As I walked away from the house I looked back to see Rich's head pop up from behind the wall and dip back under like a rat hiding in its hole, taking a look around.
Rich doesnt seem to be a bad guy, and he willingly cleaned our toilets today while explaining to me his masters degree in Psychology and military past as I blazed hearty blunts of pot and listened to the grateful dead. It was only shortly before this time I realized that Rich was in fact living inside the boxes he had moved into our basement, and had even found away to wire a television with cabel by splicing wires that hung down on top of him.
I will repost later with more of the Rich chronicles as they evolve over time.