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So, at the art school I go to, physicall education is unfortunately a requirement. Since volleyball was the sport of choice at every rehab I've been to, it seemed only natural to choose something I was familiar with, if I had to partake in any athletic activity.

So this morning I trudged myself into the city, and down into the gymnasium of my school, where I changed out of my street clothes, and into my gym shorts and a short sleeved shirt. Though the scabies are now dead, the parasitic bastards have left their mark, and my legs, arms and hands are still covered in dried blood and scabs .I actually chose not to wash my wounds this morning, because I kind of like to exhibit the freakish ravagings of my infestation, especially in a gymnasium filled with a bunch of girls that look like they just walked of the Jersey Shore.

So I leave the lockeroom, fully changed, and lie my bony ass down on the smooth wooden floor while our "coach", reads off the attendance. I kind of like my P.E teacher in all honesty, he has the sort of character that you would expect Robert DeNiro to play, in some movie about a P.E teacher that comes to inspire, and change the lives of under-privelaged, inner citty Highschoolers. However, he's obsessed, like all P.E teachers, with forcing everyone to group up into pairs, to practice their volleyball skills. This presents a problem for myself, as I hate to really ask anyone to be my partner, and of course I ended up standing in a corner, lightly bumping a volley ball to myself for about ten minutes, before he ordered me to join some girls across the gym.

Since I'm shy, I have to options on how I can deal with people that I dont know, when I'm forced to interact with them. I can 1) Be overly friendly and bashfull, or 2) act like a misserable son-of-a-bitch, who hates humanity, and looks like a serial killer. Today I opted for option number two, as like I said above, these were Jersey Shore types, and no matter how nice I acted, I would still send them "creep vibes".

So we continued to do some volleyball excercizes, working on our "bumps", and our serves, both underhand and overhand. Since I suffer from chronic sexual insecurity, I made sure that every time I hit the ball, it was too powerful rather than too weak. At one point I hit the ball insanely hard, and also completely out of bounds (though I'm pretty sure that's not the correct terminology). It wound up stuck in the bleachers. My partner attempted to retrieve the ball, but couldnt hoist herself up enough to get at it. I took this as an opportunity to display my masculinity, so I ran up to the bleacher's, kicked off it, and proppeled myself upwards, and scrambled for a moment before I secured myself safely on top, and got the ball. My performance was evidently pretty impressive, or at least strange, since I saw a few spectators below rasing eyebrows, but i just threw the ball down like it wasn't a big deal. "yeah, im hot shit, what of it?"

Then during the last half hour of class, the coach split us into teams, and we played real games. At first I tried my best, and landed a few points. Each time I laid my hands on that ball and brought it over the net, I felt an immense pride build up inside of me, but it didnt last long. After the first ten points or so were scored, I succeded in fucking up several different plays. Actually, to be quite honest, it wasn't all my fault, in fact, I was probably the best player on my team. The thing is though, im NOT a team player. The errors that plagued me for the rest of the class were all situations in which the ball was heading in a questionable spot, where it could have easily been mine to hit, or the girl next to me or behind me. You're supposed to say something along the lines of "I got it", to let your team mates know, so they back off, and avoid ramming into you, or eachother. However, I've always hated raising my voice, especially in a situation that is not serious (like a game of volleyball), so I decided to just let the other people hit it, and zone out. One of the girls, a big snarling beast of a thing, started to get pretty bitchy with my apathy and poor sportsmanship. She said something like "move it!", which totally rubbed me the wrong way. Instead of getting back into the game however, I decided to slack off even more, and just stood there, scratching at one of the scabs on my arm until it tore off and started bleeding. Luckily the game ended shortely thereafter, but it left a sour taste in my mouth.

I left the gym and immediately went outside to smoke a ciggarette in the cold rain, and put on Iggy Pop and the Stooges, to enhance my feelings of alienation and misanthropy. I decided about halfway through the second track ''Gimme Danger", to walk around the block, because I was getting paranoid that I might run into someone I knew.

So I'm walking around the block, under this shitty scaffolding, smoking a shitty rolled ciggarette, and I see this staggering homeless guy, who's stopping everyone in front of me, asking for change. I approach him, and take out my earphones to see what he want's, and surprisingly, all he asks me is what music I'm listening to. I was kind of reluctant to say "the Stooges", as I had already deemed this poor, wretched sould to be completely ignorant. However I said fuck it, the guy wants to talk to me, so I told him, "It's Iggy Pop man, Iggy and the stooges."

The guy swayed back and forth, and repeated "Iggy Pop" several times, and then informed me that he was black, to which I said, "that's cool with me." Then he said, "Iggy Pop. Iggy Pop from Detroit". I said, yeah, that's right. He said, "Iggy Pop and the Stooges?" I started laughing and said "Yeah man, you got it, you like them?". He raised his hand and gave me a high five, and for the next hour we sat there talking about The Stooges, David Bowie, Lou Reed, Bauhaus, Basquiat, some obscure architect I've never heard of, Dave Mustaine from Megadeth, Bad Brains, Choking Victim, Minor Threat, and shit, the list just went on and on. Our conversation ended with him playing air guitar while he sung The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes", and I was just cracking up. After he finished his air guitar solo, we shook hands, and headed off into the sunset

Second day of trying to stay alcohol free was as unsuccessful as yesterday. Today I started early, against my better judgement (because it always makes me feel like hell), and by 7 PM it turned into an additional 8 oz of vodka, as near as I can estimate.

The irony is that my DOC's, kratom and GBL, are unobtainable for financial reasons, yet neither are as harmful to me as booze. The last few times I've run out of GBL I've gone directly to alcohol, and am now aware of how badly it's effecting me. My sleep, which is bad to begin with, is shorter and less restful than ever. I'm nauseated for long periods during the day, and my appetite is best when I've had a few shots. I've become completely lethargic during the day, doing the bare minimum of schoolwork/responsibilities.

Tomorrow I absolutely need to shape up and get it together. I'm going to try exercising to keep me away from the alcohol for 24 hours. Really hope I can keep off it.

And my place is apparently down in a deep, dark hole.

But I got a lot of writing done and took a power nap (ha, ha) ... I didn't make it till 11pm like I wanted to but this should be good. I'm fucking just bone tired. I've been drinking loads of orange juice mixed with seltzer to get a little sustenance inside of me (all about the electrolytes, baby) but the acidic qualities of the OJ are making me a bit nauseous. So now I'm eating Reese's fucking Pieces. It's got 4g of protein, for fuck's sake! Awesomeness. Stupid drugs make me crave sugar. But it makes sense -- I haven't eaten anything in 24hrs so my body is craving the easiest form of energy to digest.

I've got dry mouth like whoa. I want to stay up and watch WWE Raw but I feel like I'm about to conk out at any moment. I'm catatonic, really, the only thing still going is my mind... "My eyes feel like they're gonna bleed, counting sheep, I'm running out" ... so there's that.

I've been playing this ridiculous Facebook game (no, not Farmville.) called Sorority Life all fucking day like some kind of manic nerd. It's such a dumb game... It might as well be Farmville. I feel like Farmville is so 2009. I'm like level 208... I only made it to level 52 on World of Warcraft. Such stupid, compulsive games. I do like the strategy of doing Dungeon Raids and working as a team with all the respective parts... Tank, Healer, Melee, etc... NERD ALERT HIGH.

It's so weird -- when I go to date things, I instinctively start to write #/##/2009... I should tell my therapist that. He'd probably get a kick out of it. If "stuck" ain't the word, I don't know what is...

in rather disregards for anything to the slightest. A forwarning to anyone who assumes they can take control of any situation, research chemicals are intense and only a handfull out of a hundred people can actually handle it. Ive met people who claim that the drug ruined their life, though i do understand the damage of what Psychedelics can cause, i also feel that people should have no doubt in their mind that they are able to handle an alternative reality. I for one, have. So far, approximatly 50 recorded diaphenhydramine trips have been taken. Dph, is chemicaly useless unfortunantly, its although interesting and disabling. It also produces unreal like dreams and diseuphoria. Dextromethorphan has been used approximatly 150+ times. Due to its euphoric feeling and unique body load and mindset. In this book, this is the devide of integrating between psychedelic theorpy and utter destruction of the human mind. Hallucinigens may increase the excitment in life, but they also can bite back if a user is inexperianced.

2c-E Trip

On or around april 24th i had taken a small amount of 2c-E, which was the remaining powder all around the inside of 3, dime size baggies. All in all, it had to be an approximate 20mg-30mg dose. I have never triped on a psychedelic before other than occasionaly using marijuana. We were all driving around when we had decided to take it, and i had to be home in a few hours. At that time i couldnt help but to think how strange a psychedelic would be to use. Then suddenly it hit me. As i walked up the stairs i began to see the stair rail sway and convay a geometric brething design. When i had gotten up to my room, all the walls(where each seam met) began to wave and sway into a ocean-like water rythem. Just as this started to happen i looked at my fingures and found them bending in convexing and concaving forms of illusions. While at the same time when i looked at my floor, beautiful floral patterns and designs could be both seen and felt all around me. During this expidition i went outside and found myself stairing at the moon, which dramaticallty turned into an eye within a slpit second. Just as the ground crawled with geometric design i also kept thinking the ground itself was a complex and intuitive organism on its own. When i got to the patio door, i simply sat down and had a ciggaret. I watched the yardlights turn from their usual yellow, to magnificant ranges of bright and neon, blues, reds, purples, greens, and such. When i had closed my eyes, constantly moving geometric paterns came to me, shifting in color and design. All together the emotional state i was in was both beautiful and insane. At one moment i thought i had gone mad, but quickly threw out the throught process. Bright green and red hazes appeared as patches of fog outside. i kept watching the horrizon line shift in spirals and unique designs. The most beautiful feeling in my life, i felt complete, as if i was finnaly whole. I found myself loving every minute of every hour of every day, as it seems to remain for the restr of my life!

Chapter 1: Psychedelic Theorpy

This present day context is no longer of any degree of melting the boiling point into a chemical synthesis of a new era. An example of such a pre-tense complicated over-realization is the generation of the 60s, using LSD, or Lysergic Acid.
In the current situation of this general pre-tense contains much more complicated materials such as 2c-E, 2c-I, DOI, Myceria Fragrans, Dextromethorphan HBu, Diaphenhydramine HCL, Dmt, 5-MeO-Dmt, Etc. A psychedelic trip is often catorgorized as 3 different lables.
One, a Clean, Psychedelic Trip often some people dispute between DOI, Some dispute between LSD being clean or, Psilocibon Mushrooms, and often peyote and other naturally occurring plants that contain psychedelic alkaloids.
Two, a Disassociative, trip( Moderatly clean, very enjoyable trips) a feeling of upper conchesness, more awareness and alertness, feeling of a higher power, Very enjoyable, Relaxation and new philosophical thought process, over-all sence of well being.
Three, a Deliriant, Often hard to interpret, or describe, hard to integrate, difficulty concentrating, difficulty integrating between reality and fiction. Delirious actions and opinions, interrupted train of thought, etc.
During the years I have come to learn that Psychedelic Use seems to be acciociated with a new world of very complex feelings. During this time I have come into contact with relitivly strange chemicals other than your average beer or hit of weed. The year of 2010 I had a report of my first 2c-E trip, as being a definantly worth while material, comprehensive, mind altering, and beautifuly alive context.
My First Psychedelic trip ever would have to be Nutmeg, or the chemical name, Myceria Fragrans, 2010, a few months before 2c-E. This inclining revolution, a new theory for evolution of my new conclusion. This book, contains a new point of view or perspective of reality and fantasy using psychedelic theory. Truly, any drug you decide to choose to do must be researched properly and used in the proper setting, just as my dad always told me, “There is a time and place for everything…”

The Proper context as so to speak in which these materials can be reffered to as is, a new life all together, either you decide to take the risk of doing psychedelics, or to simply walk away from it. Some people have a mind that can handle hallucinogens, other cant.

The past few weeks have been total shit.

I sold a bunch of my dead great-aunt's gold jewelry that has been sitting in my closet since she died in 2001. I'm sorry, Ida. Also sold some of my dead mom's stuff and my dad's stuff. I feel like a complete degenerate.

I got some rent paid and got high for a week or two.

I kept the important stuff so I don't feel like such a piece of shit. Wedding rings. My great-aunt's mezuzah necklace. I found a tiny Hebrew scroll in her jewelry box and I wish I read Hebrew. But I assume it's something important. Obviously. Maybe the Kaddish? I don't know... and I guess I will never know. I could probably ask a Rabbi but I feel so uncomfortable around synagogues. Like I don't belong. Odd Jew out. I'd like to discover more about my religion but I don't know if I have the courage...

The jewelry, I feel, is also kind of a posthumous gift because I really got myself into a fucking bind with my rent/eviction and even though they're sick/dead I know they'd help me out if they could... sigh.

Didn't get the job I interviewed for and my phone is off so I can't really apply for jobs right now. Just waiting for this month to be OVER. I feel so isolated in a city of 8million plus...

I feel like I failed my brother. But I guess that isn't true because he's doing better than ever. I guess I got depressed after I knew my brother was going to be okay. I was being strong for him but now I have to be strong for myself. I don't feel like I can do it.

Now it's me who needs the help and I don't know how to ask for it or even if I did ask, I don't know how to accept it.

"Choose a thought, then think it".

Seems easy, right?

Q: OK, pick a thought, and think it.

A: "I choose the word 'bear'.

Q: You chose the word "I?"

A: No, bear!

Q: You supposedly chose the word "bear", but the first thought out of your mouth was "I".

In fact, the thought that was "chosen" (in a sense) was "I" -- it's the imaginary self, and is emotive, because it's divided in two.

One half of it is the "I", and it represents what goes out, what one wants to GIVE to others, whatever that may be. It is the "out-going" direction, in the separate self's false directional/oppositional duality.

The other half, "me", and is addressed by people. It represents what wants to get from others, whatever that may be. It is the "in-coming" direction, in the separate self's false directional/oppositional duality.

The "me" is what has got to go, in order to clear up the whole equation. Poor thing .

The self has got to die for mankind's sins.

Die for all those arrogant, judgmental, egoic arseholes out there -- because they are never going to 'fess up, ever ;-). They're all waiting for that self to 'fess up.

Everyone's waiting for everyone else to confess their sins and admit their
wrongs, and no one can understand why the human race is so judgmental, arrogant, self-righteous, problematic, etc.

It's because the one waiting for the confessions is the guilty party, as
innocent as it is. Its death is terribly sad, but it has to happen.

The emotive one (well, OK, the one just wanting to be loved and accepted) is the one that dies (and with it goes the angry one).

As it dies, its loneliness, isolation and sense of abandonment curiously lessen, and the desire to tell people off starts to diminish as well.

One starts to simultanously just not care that it isn't being loved and given attention, and not give a damn that it isn't feeling angry and abused either.

At some point, it dawns that there is absolutely nothing wrong with not needing others.

You don't give a damn if you ever see one again or not.

But it's still fun to hang around them. In fact, it's fun for the first time ever. You can take or leave them, and they can (for the most part) take care of themselves, and do what they like.

Because you finally can, for the first time ever.

Peace...

Q: Choose a thought, then think it.

Seems easy, right?

Q: OK, pick a thought, and think it.

A: "I choose the word 'bear'.

Q: You chose the word "I?"

A: No, bear!

Q: You chose the word "bear", but the first thought out of your mouth was "I".

***

P.S. what produced the word "I"?

One side of the psyche, the self or "noun" aspect.

What produced the word "bear?"

The other side of the psyche, its object or verbal (doership) aspect.

All of it occurs automatically. No choice occurred at all.

After having attempted to chronicle my anti-climatic but never the less interesting New Years partying...and having been stymied by my lack of finesse with my latest handheld, I have decided to once again try and cover what has indeed turned out to be one of the more interesting periods in my post-Rizza life, albeit two months after the fact.

Near the end of December I hopped a flight on what has to be one of the world's worst airlines, Cebu Pacific, and this is from someone who has had the rare pleasure of having flown Soviet Era Aeroflot AND various West African props...I would have taken a ferry, my preferred mode of inter-island transport, but the typhoon that devestated the northern coast of Mindanao has completely re-arranged the coral reefs and sandbars making heavy draught shipping a hit and miss affair. It is only now, three months after the storm that ferries..and indeed even heavy freight shipping has begun to return to that coast. Landing in Makati, in Metro Manila, I settled into the studio I sublet in that same corner of the capital.

The plan had been for Joysa and I to spend a quiet New Years Eve at my studio, or more precisely, at its rooftop pool which, since it is thirty floors up can offer a decent view of Manila Bay. All over Southeast Asia there are extravagant pyrotechnic displays over bodies of water. For example, some may recall that for New Years Eve 2008 Rizza and I ushered in the New Year by viewing Cambodia's version in Pnohm Penh. Not being a particularly high skyline we had a great view from our fourth floor hotel room on Monviong despite the display having taken place on the Mekong River, so many kilometers away.

The chief benefit of subletting in Makati, aside from being able to rest on my sojourns in and out of Manila when travelling internationally, is that Makati is home to the Philippine's only Jewish Community. Indeed, it was my own clan that funded 50% of the country's only synagouge in Makati's Salcedo Village. As a traditionally raised Jew- and an Israeli to boot- there are times when I feel the need to commiserate with my own People. Mindanao is about as far off the beaten path as it gets for a Jew. Salcedo Village is also home to the country's Israeli Embassy and it was at the embassy that Joysa contacted me to inform me that our quiet holiday plans had just changed. Instead of fireworks from the rooftop verandah next to the pool, we would be 120km north of Metro Manila in of all places...Angeles City.

Angeles City, in Pampanga Province is famous for just two things; during the run up to Easter the municipality hosts real live crucifixtions. Yep, if you have a hankering to rid yourself of sin by being literally nailed to a wooden cross than by golly, you may just want to consider your own visit to Angeles. Indeed, Easter is nearly upin us so grab your ticket now. The second claim to fame is the city's role as literally the largest red light district in all of Asia...and perhaps even the entire world.

Angeles enjoys a very close proximity to the municipalities of Clark and Subic Bay. The former held an American Airforce base of the same name while the latter held an American Naval base, also of the same name. Until their closure in the mid-1990s these basez were the largest American military installations on foreign soil. Angeles parlezed an accident of geopolitics and geography into a goldmine of smut and vice. Although it has been nearly two decades since the American flag was unceremoniously pulled down amidst a storm of ash from volcanic Mt.Pinatubo, Angeles has managed to retain its role as Asia's largest cum stain by retooling its whorehouses, titty bars and live sex shows towards the International Sex Tourism trade. These days the Japanese and Koreans far outnumber the Yanks though there are still plenty of sweaty pink faced, beer bellied walking hard ons perusing the brightest and best that infamous Fields Avenue has to offer.

Telling me the bad news, Joysa informed me that we would be spending the evening at her Tita (Auntie) Gemma's home where all Joysa's maternal family would be gathered...

To be continued...

I started Lent a couple days early just for the hell of it. I set out with two vows: Give up the use of newly acquired plastics, and [spoil]I'm keeping the second "lofty endeavor" to myself though I will make note of the progress on it each week.[/spoil]

The week started off a bit rocky with the "vow" to not buy anything plastic. I had a coffee bought for me and forgot it would come with a plastic lid, let alone two cups that are probably not recyclable. As a joke, the person who bought me the coffee also brought me this little tiny Timmy's cup that's probably used for espresso shots or something--I see no other use for it. But, hey, I did ask for "the smallest cup they have"! Too bad that came with a plastic lid as well. I also bought from the vending machine once while at work because what I packed for lunch was not nearly enough.

This week's shopping trip made me realize that I am probably going to end up with scurvy (again 8)) but the end of this thing. Every fresh (and frozen) organic vegetable at the local grocery store was wrapped in plastic. Or it was wrapped in plastic with a tray under it. I said at the start of this thing that I wouldn't buy something if the packaging was more than ~10% plastic. Those most certainly do not fit the less than 10% plastic rule, so I could not buy them. I made one exception this week and bought a five pound bag of potatoes that were encased in a plastic bag.

However, I was able to attain a few small glass bottles of orange juice that do not have any visible plastic on them, so I'll be able to ward off scurvy for a little while at least.

As far as how my other endeavor went this week, I haven't made much progress on it, but I've come to a few realizations that are rather shocking and sad and will be quite helpful on my journey. It's just the tip of the iceberg unfortunately, but it's progress.

I have the stomach flu I guess. I was throwing up all day yesterday and last night.

I have not been able to sleep.

I have been able to forgive myself for whatever evil I have done over my life though...

No one at my house has said a word to me. Not one word.

I realize that had I not taken care of myself and my needs over all these years, I would never had made it this far. The only reason I'm even here now is because I got myself here.

I'm still nauseous and have a violent headache.

But that fact that everyone has their own concerns has come home to me in a profound way. I am on my own. I always have been and I always will be.

My dog Sweetpea hasn't left my side. Animals are the best. I have always thought so but now I really KNOW so. In and out of the bathroom yesterday Sweetpea was right there. The whole fam was here, I heard them downstairs, but not one person poked his or her head in for any reason. Now I know.

People go to the movies for temporary spiritual-awakening experiences -- to be absorbed. And they enjoy the movies most that absorb them the most. In other words, when the separate self is not there.

"I really got into that!"

It has something to do with looking out of your eyes (instead of being looked at) and then flowing with what is seen, rather than keeping time.

It's incredibly simple, really. Do that for a long time, all the time, and the
self will dissolve. It's merely the 'being looked at, being seen by others'
nonsense that keeps it around.

That one little thing -- "Being looked at, being seen by others" -- is the basis for the separate self and all of mankind's troubles.

I'm not kidding. Take a look at it....

People go to the movies for temporary awakening experiences -- to be absorbed.
And they enjoy the movies most that absorb them the most. In other words, when
the self is not there.

It has something to do with looking out of your eyes (instead of being looked
at) and then flowing with what is seen, rather than keeping time.

It's incredibly simple, really. Do that for a long time, all the time, and the
self will dissolve. It's merely the 'being looked at, being seen by others'
nonsense that keeps it around.

That one little thing -- "Being looked at, being seen by others" -- is the basis
for the separate self and all of mankind's troubles.

I am in a really, really bad headspace today.

I'm not sure if it's because I've been sick with some kind of stomach ailment since last Wednesday... but I've spent the last few days scared as shit that there's something seriously wrong with me. When I spend a lot of time alone like this and I can't get out the house it tends to make me go a bit hysterical and mad in the head.

I have been doing so well lately, I don't know what happened, I'm sure it's just because of the amount of time I've had to ponder over things. Normally I've got work to keep me busy, or I can get out of the flat for a walk to clear my head. I've been too sick to move for days.

The way I feel is how I used to feel when I was in my early twenties and was really struggling to get to grips with my head. I used to get absolutely gripped by this monster in my head. My chest would get all tight and my head would get all busy and I would start getting really angry and upset about absolutely everything. That would then give way to crying and paranoia... then I would start to click that my thoughts weren't rational and I'd pull myself out of it... although usually too late because I had a horrible habit of taking it out on the people closest to me, and they couldn't cope with the way they lashed out, and I'm ashamed that they had to.

At first I thought I had some kind of mental health issue, such as depression, but the older I get the more I realise it is more like a repressed anger that I'm feeling. I've had some pretty horrible things happen to me and rather than work through them I've just barged onwards and drugged myself up to the eyeballs to forget about what happened to me. There were a couple of times I tried to open up but I have a habit of choosing the wrong people and ended up with them throwing it back in my face and making me feel even worse.

So, now, I'm sitting here after having metaphorically ripped off the heads of two friends that had no idea what they'd done wrong. One of them has been in my shoes and I should have just explained to him how I was feeling and the other hasn't been in my shoes but understands how I work and would have been able to know how to deal with this if I had only realised that this was me, not him, and I feel absolutely awful about it.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to cope. I was doing so well. I'm sure given some cigarettes and a cup of tea, and some time away from my laptop, that I'll be ok... or at least I'll calm down... I just thought I was past all this.

I wish Colm was here. He'd understand all of this because he's been where I am. I texted him but it's Saturday night and he's trying to sort things out with his girl, and I don't want to be a burden.

I just want to be ok. I want to be back in that headspace.

I'm torn, do I stay up and work through it even though I worry that I might damage myself? To be totally honest, it's times like these that I want to self harm and I don't want to go back there. It's been a long time since I've felt like I wanted to do this. It's not like I want to end my life or anything (the irony is I have so much to live for that I couldn't do it) but I do feel like I need an outlet for what I'm feeling. I don't know what to do.

Maybe it would be best to take some co-dydramol and go to bed? Maybe? I don't know. I'm going to step away and see if I can calm myself down with some camomile. Although I feel like a tranquilizer dart would be more appropriate.

At least I know I can write it all down here. I don't know if anyone reads this, but if they do, now's the time to interact and give me some advice. Please, speak to me, someone.

If I phone the doctor on Monday I can get valium and propanolol. I've been med-free (well apart from pain killers) for nearly two months and maybe this is showing me that I'm not quite ready. I feel like these shitstorms I have are maybe panic attacks?

Fuck knows.

If you read this, thank you.

I don't generally do regrets. I have had some massive fuck ups in my life and made some awful choices but there has always been a silver lining, a purpose that came out of them that couldn't have happened without these terrible choices so I don't really hold onto it and plague myself with a wish to have done things differently.

This is until recently. As I grew up I kept a shoebox of things that mattered to me or were a good point in my life. This consisted of my 10m swimming badge, letters from friends I made on my first ever trip abroad and so on. I reached a stage a few years ago where i thought it would be a good idea to start over with my life completely, I for some reason felt the need to signify this by throwing that box out due to the impulsive person that I am.

There have been a couple of points over the years where I have thought I shouldn't have done it. However the last week or two I have actually really come to regret discarding it. Firstly when I remembered that the photos of my greek holiday and the fit bar tender there were in that box.

Then today, when I really wanted to see the portrait sketch someone had done for me for £1 in a youth club I went to. I thought it was amazing because I actually looked pretty in it, he had somehow taken my best features and avoided my worst to make me pretty. Today I miss that and I want to look at it and am filled with regret over my stupid impluse that made me get rid of it.

I often use the words "beyond the mind", being clear on the fact that they don't
say anything, so I thought I'd attempt a description.

"Beyond the mind", the here and now is 'absolute'. There is nowhere else.

Think of it as losing yourself totally in moment-to-moment life (no-self).

One is so involved in the present moment that the "universe out there" doesn't
exist.

It is total, unconditional involvement (or absorption). There is nothing else but This, at any time.

This is why words don't say anything about it...

himynameispaul said:

Pure consciousness as in Existence. Existence that is Existence.

Click to expand...

It isn't existence or nonexistence. It is a flow of change that never changes (as a flow of change). Thus, it is both change and changelessness, or neither. Same difference.

The "self" is an attempted dam in the flow of change that never changes (as a dam), always stays the same -- through the belief that it spans over time, and doesn't arise/occur within the flow like everything else. It's impossible -- it never existed and never will.

Singularity. Our rationale is similar to the asymptote concept - it never hits zero. To be without a "why" and "because" would push the boundary of what it means to be human.

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Yes -- to not seek answers, and not experience cause and effect. That is quite beyond the mind.

The answers the mind seek are all to questions about things that have happened in the past, and are gone -- it seeks predictability, the ability to shape and control future events. Such an attempt merely repeats the past, because the past is then shaping and controlling future events, with an eye toward improving on its own imposed limitation, creating 'better' limitation that increases its ability to control and limit.

Causation is conceptualized about things that have happened in the past, as compared to other things that have happened in the past, thus it exists in the past. It's an explanation for why events that no longer exist cause other events that no longer exist. Moreover, it assumes that a single object (like a person) can cause something to happen, in isolation from everything else in the universe, which is absurd if you think about it.

I hereby verify your statement with question! Can we transcend such demarcations?

Stay tuned to find out!

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Yes -- the mind can be transcended, by seeing through it to the bottom and understanding its limitations. The primary limitation is that it is the past. The past limits the present, through knowledge about past events that are supposed to be the same every/most times they happen, but rarely are, resulting in history endlessly repeating itself. Thus, the mind is a state of ever-increasing limitation and repetition. The more knowledge, the more limitation/repetition ('power'). To know is to eliminate possibility.

What frees the mind is the absence of the self/psyche. Self is the movement to control, limit and secure. The mind becomes a free thinker in its absence.

Peace...

> ***********************
> demystifying the mystical

What's mystical is the human race's avoidance of what was never mystical at all... the way the human mind works when driven by desire and fear.

There's no mystery to it. For better or worse, it's rather like a clockwork. History will keep repeating itself endlessly, because the future is driven by the past (i.e. "knowledge"). And the past is fixed, unchanging. As long as the world is driven by the past, the future will keep looking like it, over and over again.

so much has happened! ive journeyed across the world and back. ive given up a lifestyle and gained anew. ive yet undergone another physical transformation. im slowly prying myself from the machine, and taking many more with me. its going to be an exciting future, no doubt.

note to self: this was right after coming back from CR

I believe memory to be a false pretense for identity. Sure, it’s all that we have to define ourselves but is that a factual statement or simply an excuse? Memory is past, but the moment is now, so how wrong is it to see oneself as the sum total of their experiences?

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It simply isn't true.

If you're the sum total of your experiences, put down in words who you are. Write down the sum total of all your experiences, and include a transmission of how they felt and what they looked like to you at the time, regardless of how they look to you now. Please include everything that you didn't remember, because it wasn't important at the time. And keep writing, as the writing itself is now a part of the sum total and has to be described...

There's no such thing as the sum total of all your experiences. You can't experience it, can't know it, can't think about it, can't put it down in words. You cannot sum up all your experiences. A "sum total of all that has ever happened to me" is a fuzzy concept that has no actual counterpart in reality.

To answer that, it's worth looking at what is really knowledge.

From here, 'true knowledge' is based on what is not fixed or static (i.e. beliefs). Anything that is true for all times/places, or even some times/places, is falsehood, from here.

Knowledge is based on immediate, in-the-moment responsiveness to what is going on. If it is not fixed, static, you will be amazed... you know what you need to know at all times, and you know a lot.

When there are beliefs that are supposed to apply to all times and places, you know nothing. You approach the situation based on the past, interpret a brand new event based on the past and know only what you see based on past-based interpretation.

You aren't listening. You are hearing only the past. Your response will be the same one as before.

All you get is repetition, history repeating itself again and again.

That is what is commonly referred to as 'knowledge', from here. Knowledge is the knowledge that what you know dooms the past to repeat itself, because what you know is what you know, and that's that. It doesn't change. It isn't flexible.

"true knowledge" simply wells up from within, when you hold no beliefs. It is available on-demand. It creates itself on-the-fly, it need not be learned or even known. I don't know if that makes sense to anyone.

Peace...

> Why do we need to agree or disagree on anything? We can just talk, > discuss.

Just a final note on the above, fwiw -- I've encountered very few people who are interested in open discussion, and not interested in agreement/disagreement -- being OK with whatever the other thinks, being genuinely interested in sharing thoughts, rather than "aligning" thoughts, "being right".

It is very rare, IME. Social interaction for most people (particularly on Net
forums) is for making stances, and defending them.

No one seems to see the utter emptiness and repetitiveness of self/other stance games, because what is driving it, thrives on it.

It is "felt" as meaningful, important, crucial. If it doesn't happen, 'self'
doesn't feel like itself. It feels empty, meaningless.

Quite the paradox. To avoid feel empty, meaningless and repetitive, repeatedly take empty and meaningless stances.

Self feels, and acts on how it feels, and produces thoughts based on how it feels. Unfortunately, what it feels is backwards, so it acts backwardly (to reality's detriment) and thinks confusedly.

"Step 1" of transcending self for someone, might be to simply *stop* the moment one feels a reaction to something someone has said. And don't reply.

It is highly likely that the offense an other offered, was actually the defense the self threw up --

i.e. that the other did not offer any offense at all. Rather, it was 'taken',
interpreted in based on an inside-out perspective. As long as others are
interpreted as self's opposite, they can do nothing right but to treat self like God and be happy with the flames they receive in return.

Honesty is called for -- integrity. Something more important than childish
feelings that supercede everything because they *feel bad*. Then the situation can actually be examined and something can actually change.

"Other" is not self's opposite.

"Other" is a reversed view called "self", in which other is other because it is "self" seen in a reversed mirror.

It's true. These thoughts are the reader's own, thunk one at a time as they are read, and reversed to reflect something coming in from outside, rather than seen purely through a pair of eyes looking out at the words.

Nothing ever came in from outside. There are not others. All that is needed is to stop creating them in one's own reversed image.

To transcend duality, simply don't create it.

Peace...

I have never been a sweaty person. Until I started using opiates. I noticed it the most when i took 5 days off last week during those days just carrying a bit of food shopping home or running for the bus from work I would be soaked which only ever happens to me doing those things mid summer, not mid winter!

And today (morning after opiate use) a quick walk upto the local shop and i get back and once again am ridiculously sweaty. What the hell?!

I love my dogs! They mean a lot to me. They may be small but they have huge hearts and personalities all their own.

Shoshanna, 2 year old Dachshund female:


Scotti, 5 year old Westie male:


They're awesome companions who have limitless supplies of love and I am grateful to have them every single day. Even though Scotti likes to steal my slippers and make me chase him around and Shoshanna loves to bark her head off at any little noise outside.

I never knew true unconditional love until I had pets.

Here's my beloved cat Shayna who passed away last Thanksgiving at the age of 15:


I'm extremely stoned right now and have been taking extra Klonopin, 5mg instead of 4mg... but I don't think I'll run out this month... Plus last month the pharmacy fucked up my script and my put brother's name on my script so I think I can get it right after I get the script from the Doctor. Usually I have to wait a week till it can be filled. That gives me like 12 extra mgs of Klonopin to abuse. Hooray for me.

In other news, it's raining.

There's a lot of talk on how the psychedelics and dissociatives can result in spiritual insight, ego lessening, even ego death. No one ever talks about other substances, and how they may relate to this subject.

A lot of people believe that certain substances are just pleasure seeking, and have no worth at all.

The "worst" substances have something huge and dramatic to offer:

Loss. Aloneness. Death. Being abandoned by everyone. Neglecting your body. Forgetting about society and the outside world. Doing nothing. Caring about nothing. Going nuts.

Bad stuff, huh? I agree. And sometimes, bad is good.

The simple fact is that the psyche/self died here around the middle of January, 2008, following a period of heavy MDPV (methylenedioxypyrovalerone) use -- along with intensive involvement in the here/now, neglect of the body, loss of contact and involvement with others, forgetting about the outside world, etc.

There was a break in continuity -- the life story I had been living suddenly came to a halt, and was cut off. The mind turned inside-out and imploded. The self-image (my own face) dissolved, and along with it everyone else I knew and the world they existed in. All was near, intimate, contented, fulfilled, clear, simple, obvious, at peace.

One of my first thoughts, as I recall -- "What if there was nobody out there -- everybody was really *here*?" The meaning of this is inexplicable. It was simply a perfectly simple, obvious, amazing, clear revelation.


***

The revelations continue, really -- through stimulants (mostly legal/experimental ones) and their associated events, I've experienced psychic states and conditions that have altered my perspectives on life in ways I don't understand and am still examining.

It's interesting to me that people are afraid of not being able to feel emotions -- because I have gone **so far** beyond this, to the point of not being able to eat, sleep, eliminate, think clearly, know where/who I am, act to change anything, etc. People get emotional about losing emotions. There's a catch in there.

In any case, a few unusual experiences that have occurred here (during substance use):

* Feeling like a robotic mechanism or puppet, unable to act to change anything or escape a repetitive cycle of purposeless movement. Believing that it would go on for all eternity.

* Believing absolutely that I was going to experience eternal pain and torment, starting immediately. No actual pain or torment was felt, however the belief itself was not tolerable, thus did not last long.

* Living a mental dream as though it were reality, and losing touch altogether with the normal reality (psychosis).

* Experiencing a couple days as lasting several thousand years.

* Experiencing a day or two as totally timeless, or lasting moments.

* (days into MDPV use) -- falling into a state of calm and peace so perfect, the universe itself was not there.

I'm open to questions from anyone who may be interested to know what any of this was like.

These days I have absolutely no clue what is real and what isn't, don't care at all, and live life moment-to-moment as it comes, whatever it is. It is unconditional. "What it is, as it occurs". "No choice, pal."

That's the answer.

Peace...