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I finished my very first half marathon in 2 hours and 17 minutes.... and I am pretty proud - its a huge accomplishment for me I had never run that far and was half expecting to have to get picked up by the shuttle (they pick you up if you fall under a 15 min per mile pace overall) but I actually did really pretty well. Better in fact than I had initially anticipated or hoped for. The run took place in Moab Utah which was gorgeous, we ran through a box canyon next to the Colorado river and it was awesome. Also, I did the run while sleep deprived as my 11 month old son was up for most of the night with a fever (he got a little virus that pretty much got better the next day). And my left boob really hurt the whole race because it was engorged as a result of munchkin nursing a lot more because he was sick and then me having to leave early in the morning. ( my boobs haven't been engorged like that since he was like 3 months old) And all 3000 participants had to wait outside in the cold for 1 1/2 hours before the start of the race (there was no sun because of the canyon) I really should have brought warmer sweats with me.
anyway it was a fucking incredible experience!!!

When I was 22 or 23 (those years are kinda foggy for me) I had a problem with cocaine. At the time I would have called it and addiction, but that was before I had experienced meth or heroin. I knew I needed to quit. One night, I had a really bad experience and I OD. I didn't OD in the sense where I died, or had a seizure. But I definitely over-dosed. I knew that if I closed my eyes and tried to sleep that I would die. At the time, it was not uncommon for me to go through and eight-ball a night, on my own and I was regularly smoking crack. I was with my boyfriend that night, and needless to say, it freaked him the fuck out. He had first blown coke when I brought it over to his place about eight or nine months earlier. He didn't tell me it was his first time, and I got really pissed when he nearly blew it all off the table. (We all know how that goes!) But since then he had been partaking with me on almost a daily basis. From that moment forward, he quit. I told him I quit, but of course I didn't. I knew my dealer sold meth, but I had never tried it. I decided that I would see if I could ween myself off of coke with meth. Now keep in mind this was probably 2001 or 2002, so although it was definitely well known, it didn't have the same reputation that it does now. I was completely naive to the dangers.

I don't think I really even need to tell you what happened next. I was almost immediately addicted, since I was already addicted to uppers. And within 3 years, my life was a total shambles. I was too skinny, I was flaky with all my responsibilities, I never slept. I'd go 4 days regularly without sleep, which I contributed to my schedule working as a chef. But all I would do is go to work or school and smoke meth out back behind the dumpsters (and a fair amount of crack too, depending on who I was with).

I was only able to quit after re-introducing heroin to my life, which I was fine with because I didn't even think about addressing that problem for many years. But yes, I know now that's not the way to quit any drug.

Flash-forward seven years later. I'm hopelessly addicted to heroin still, but my life is still 180 degrees better than it was when I was on meth. This time, when the opportunity presents itself, I think... "Why not just a little? I know what I'm getting myself into this time and I can control it. Anyway, quitting meth is nowhere near as bad as quitting heroin." I was forgetting what a painful experience it was. I dabbled with it for a little bit, taking it orally, so the bioavailability was lower. And pretty soon I was taking homemade speed pills every morning before work. My productivity is already starting to falter, but I don't care because I feel great.

Then, I find out you can shoot it. "You can slam this stuff! Holy-Moly! Let me try!" And on my birthday, as a present to myself, I choose to IV meth. It was everything I thought it would be a more. And I still had some vague notion that I would be able to control it.

Flash-forward again. Almost exactly one year later. I'm 88 pounds, I've lost two jobs where I was making about $100k at each. My family now knows because I nodded off on the subway and my phone was stolen and some asshole decides to post all my pictures online and send them to my parents (nudes, syringes, blood, drugs, everything). My friends don't speak anymore. And my face looks so bad, people at my last job thought I had shingles. Yet I think my life it completely fine. "Everyone is just hung up on the IV stigma!" I said to myself. My boyfriend is the only person in my life, probably because he was a user too. And both of us just go on telling ourselves that everything is normal. We don't know what all the fuss is about.

We decide to go to NYC to see Phish for New Years. As he was going to the bank to pick up money for 3 ounces of heroin for our trip, he gets pulled over after a hit-and-run, while smoking a pookie, with 13 ounces of meth in the car. Now I'm not saying any of this to incriminate him. It was only circumstantial that it happened to him and not me. It could have been either of us.

Luckily, as far as legal ramifications go, he made out pretty well. Actually, the event probably saved both of our lives. He was required to go to mandatory rehab, and on January 17th of last year, we quit meth.

The difference it has made in our lives can't even be accurately described. An average day would consist of alternating meth/heroin shots from sun-up to sun-down. Family visits turned into nightmares, as we ineffectively tried to hide our out of control addiction. Not even deny the addiction, but deny the use entirely. If you've ever met a meth addict, it's beyond obvious. Yet we had been content with the way things were in the fucked up, bizarro-world universe, that we thought was "normal".

Now, I'm not perfect. I'm still a junky. But cutting out meth literally made the difference between life and death for me. It was very hard to quit, even with heroin. Sure, the physical withdraws aren't the same. But emotionally it ruins you.

I recently saw a post on bluelight that read something like "Try meth just once? Or maybe I can do it a few times, but I won't let myself get addicted." I just can't believe with all the hype that it has received over the last decade that anyone will still think that. The whole time I was quitting again, I kept thinking "how could I let this happen? How could I believe that I was different and that "this time" I would be able to handle it and not get addicted?" But people have this faith in themselves that is not justified. Sure, there are lots of people who try it once and don't use again. But if you are going to try to make it a "recreational" part of your life, be prepared. Nobody thinks they will be the ones to turn into a meth addict. We all see the pictures and think "That can't happen to me!" But trust me. It can and will if you take it lightly. This article does a good job of outline the dangers associated with meth, with the scare tactics that some politicians try to use. It's good reading for anyone who's thinking about trying it for the first time.

http://www.forbes.com/sites/jacobsu...s-the-surprising-truth-about-methamphetamine/

I don't want to be too preachy, and I would certainly never tell anyone not to touch drugs. That would be totally hypocritical. But I've been around the block a few times. If you are thinking about trying it. Just know what you're getting yourself into. I'm not different. You're not different. And it can happen to anyone!

Peace, Love and Rock 'n Roll!!

D_D

Why, every time I insert a pic the right way from my iPhone, does it come up side ways? It really is annoying.

hi everyone! so i just wanted to test out the blog function because i've never tried it, and I also want the "blog entries" count on my account. ha!

anyways here I am sitting on a bench in a park near my school, it's spring already and I'm blissfully bathing in the Sunshine with a cool, refreshing breeze listening to Grantchester Meadows by Pink Floyd.

this is a reminder for me and you of how great life can be if you just want it to be and turn off your mind for a sec.

Hope you are all enjoying yourselves in this spring day.
cheers

Starting to realise that some places are just not good for me.
1, keep away from places/people I can't trust - especially people who repeat stuff I say.
2, stay away from people/places that trigger me.
3. stay away from people who wind me up / turn on me.
4. stay away from please/places I'm not gna be accepted n only remember for negative behaviour when I've spent time being positive n helpful.

I'm not going to recover unless I do that.

I realise that now

I've been going to the wrong places.......

The most memorable image from my dream was a rider riding a horse backwards, jumping a fence. I saw it happen a few times. I was on a road, and it was after hours. I wasn't supposed to be there it seemed. Nobody was. It was like there was a curfew. Something dangerous was out.

I saw this girl, and this guy. The girl was on the other side of a fence, on a dirt road. To my left. There was lots of hay, everywhere. We seemed to be up on a rolling hill, and it gradually would descend ahead, and behind. I was interested in her. But then I saw this guy, and realized that they were, or might be together. And the guy was shirtless, and shaped well, I think, so I didn't think I was able to compete, as I am not in such shape. He was then jumping this horse, over a fence, over the right side, like competitive, but backwards. And the horse would put it's head down to it's side, like a clock hand from the side, now it's head upside down, and facing the opposite direction/backwards. This made me wonder how they trained it to do that, kind of worried for the welfare of the animal, although it didn't seem bothered much. Perhaps it was even excited to do something it had learned, that was challenging.

In some part of this dream, or another, I was walking with a lot of Black people, and my walk changed. There was like a school of fish, of Black people. They were all walking somewhere. I was good with some. I felt okay. I was the only White dude, but this doesn't bother me much. We were going to some store. Then one became racist with me- an old man. He attacked Whites, saying we polluted the planet. That because of us it's going to shit. And I almost reveled in it. I did. It was a "yea, we can do whatever the fuck we want, because we're the only one's capable of actually rebuilding it/fixing it.", something like that. This was also a bit, of a, uh, White is better-ism, showing through. I felt threatened, so it was a reaction. I tend to consciously try to fight this "I am better"-ism, and, uh, I think it would be neat if I found out I had Black, or some other grouping in me, other than Northern European. And I know down the line we all descend from the same... Somewhere down the line.

As well I remember being around people. And perhaps a fight. Maybe people got injured. I can't remember. I remember a lot of women/girls. Mothers/daughters. Son. Fathers elsewhere. Like I was part of some other family. And buying the movie, The Fifth Element, again. And realizing I had already bought it. Guns. Doctors. Someone's head was sawed off at the top. A friend's. I was taking care of him. He had a surgery. They cut the top of his cranium, and then when they put it back on, it was like it was up to me to align it back onto his head, and make sure it stayed. And my friend, or was it relative? Was careless, and fell over, reaching for something. I had a thought to at least wrap his head, like they should have after surgery, to secure the section of skull that had been removed during surgery. I don't think I got around to it. Some girls came to pick him up.

There was a game I played with some. I won some, and then I lost some. I used my car. I lost to a girl, some final time.

I was delivering a package, in one... It was a Pizza, to a campground. I found myself at Paoli Peaks, in Paoli, Indiana, and I saw a hill with lots of snow, ahead of me. Very large. Looked like Perfect North, in Lawrenceburg. My GPS was confusing me. I was in the parking lot. Just before the dream ended, I remember seeing an entrance to a campground, wood framed, and surrounded by woods. I assumed skiers/boarders were camping back there. It was late. 11-Midnight.

The other night, I forgot to write this one down... I dreamt I dated a girl, who works at Whole Foods at the registers, and that she when I met her, had one eye. One eye in the center. This was uncomfortable, but I didn't want to be shallow, and not give her a chance. We met in her apartment once, and it seemed I was looking for a place, near there. We talked on the phone and it turned out she was just down the hall. And I seemed, to talk to her boyfriend. But was or had been on a date with her, and had been in a house with her, and she was on top of me, and had kissed me. But I talked to this guy, and she asked me if I had gotten the four tickets to the orchestra/opera, which was North. I hadn't. Then I remember walking through the grocery with her, and she looked different, but still with one eye. The next time I came into contact with her, at the grocery in life, she was making conversation with me, like normal, and I felt like I was holding the line up because she just kept talking to me. A few of them do that, but she particularly I remember does this, where I will be there, and she will stop paying attention to whoever she is checking out, for a lot of part, and shift attention to me, and even after, will hold up the line, still talking to me. She's so relaxed, telling me about her night, and about the weather. And she says she wore her short jeans today, lifting her leg up to show me. I was expecting to see leg, but she was being humorous, as they were just rolled up a little. I told her that I thought "what are you doing? showing me leg?", and I found it a little peculiar that this occurred after my dream- the next time I saw her. Peculiar, but not entirely surprising. I enjoy these things. Resonances, in forms (a "scientist" will likely tell me that blah blah blah humans find patterns blah blah blah). But here the line had stopped, and I feel bad to hold things up, so I closed the conversation for then, and moved on.

Today I sent a message to a girl, on OkCupid, who has been in my favorites for some time. Red head. I asked her how much she charges for massages. I was sort of playing. She said she gives good massages in her profile. Then, accepting that she may not message me back and that I wasn't really invested anyways, I told her, that regardless if she messages me back or not, that she is beautiful, and she can take that. Like if she takes anything away from me, to take that. She did get back with me, many minutes later. Her name is Mary, and we may meet up when she gets back into town, from visiting her mother, who just had surgery. She said she had court, and some appointments, and I asked her if she was "bad", playfully, and she said that according to "society" she is crazy bad, and that this court was for that. She said she had an experience, that she said was quite spiritual. But somehow she got caught. She read my profile, and resonated with my "crazy", and told me she liked how my mind worked. I asked her if she wanted to get crazy together... To give each other massages... playfully- I asked. And she was interested, and gave me her phone number.

She said her craziness began in February, or something happened in February. I have noticed that this is a time, or was a time in my past when my "crazy" (it's not, like a big bang isn't crazy), was very high. So this interested me. I'd like to at least sit down and get to know her a little. Not that I think I'm getting married, or having a relationship. But I'm curious.

Last night I dreamed I was with Lady Gaga, and many people seemed to not like her, and she threw up on something, and some of it got on me, and I almost threw up. We were kind of together, and I was accepting of her. I think she's cute, and I like to look at her- I find her interesting. It was prior to a concert. She got naked at some point, and was much bigger than she seemed. Wider. She was also shaved, I noticed. I prefer hair.

Then I was in a place where it seemed people- friends from my hometown that didn't seem like friends to me anymore, were running some kind of warehouse, or operation of sorts- not just warehouse, and they began to play instruments, and sing, and Kyle, a twin of a guy who died about four years ago, Matt, came up to me and was asking me to sing. Herdrichs were there, and Burgy, and Alston, and many others. But they wanted me to sing. I wasn't doing anything. I was just watching. It was like they began to get mad at me for this- for not participating. Like my instrument was my voice and I wasn't using it. Then I was in what seemed to be a band outfit, on some floor of the same building that we were in, waking up from a sleep. They were setting up a banquet of sorts, earlier. But I was a couple of floors up. New stuff. Not completely ready. But the floors were nearly the same. I had changed my shirt because it was puked on, earlier. Red was their color now- The band outfit. Golden tassels. Like marching band, perhaps. But I felt like it was military. My brother found me.

I had a dream yesterday, where I killed Mr. Widmore from Lost's- this person's (his face/association) new wife, before he got to meet her. The dream took on elements of the game, Dark Souls 2. I summoned someone to my world, or something, by touching a summon sign, and basically intercepted her before she went to him, and PVPed her. He was mad at me, but he knew it was a game.

The night before, I had a dream my friend Mike who looked more like Charles killed another friend, who may have looked like J.R. It was accidental, and we were both on trial. We were friends, and on a team. I didn't turn him in, but feared he would say I did it. It was sad that the other friend died, but it wasn't anything that could be helped, so I didn't want the law involved. Jeff Cooley- an old soccer coach from high school, seemed to be the judge, or who was in front. I remember boarding up certain walls, with Charles, who was Michael. Some kind of competition. Like paintball, but I don't remember paintballs. The one who died had a sister. I don't remember much. But the one who died came back. He came back, and he was like a dwarf. And he attacked someone I think. He attacked, and fell onto the ground, hitting his head. There was immediate swelling, in the center of his forehead. It seemed very dire. Mike (Charles) tried to help him, recognizing how serious it was, but this guy was soon dead, again, and it was sad, again, but at the same time, he had acted rabidly, so I was relieved he was gone.

The night before, I had a dream that had a cat in it, and lots of people around- like a party, and worrying that I had lost my license. And my dad was there, but was a completely different person. Much younger. And buzzed/shaved head, and wearing a shirt with cannabis leaves all over it. This dream also seemed to incorporate environments from Dark Souls, as I had started playing.

I don't think anyone should see drug use as a matter of right or wrong. Bluelighters are better than that.

Drugs are tools. All of them.

Drugs are weapons. They are powerful ones.
Methamphetamine made world war II a completely different ballgame with super soldiers.
Steroids make individuals more aggressive, more competitive and stronger in every way physically.
Opiates null pain and improve working conditions.
GABAergics can be used to induce deep sleep and improve anxiety issues.

Yet we live in a society where the human race is faced with difficulty using these tools. Our minds are not yet developed enough to fully utilize them to their full potential. So many people struggle with addiction. Dopamine is more important than life itself.

The same reason the lab rat in drug addiction tests returns to the water containing the heroin or the meth. People are not capable of making a fully logical decision above a certain threshold of pleasure and pain.

We are both cursed and blessed to have these compounds still capable of being used. They are a road block in our evolution, but yet they can also be used to speed up and alter our progression. The FDA may not approve them, however if you still choose to use them, that only signifies that you trust the faith of your own scientific knowledge over that of the government's.

My theory is to look at Prisons. They are full to the brim and overflowing with people who have dedicated their lives to drugs. The US has the highest amount of people using psychoactive substances, it also has the highest prison population per capita. Prisons are quite literally a means of eliminating the genes containing drug addict behavior. Because we are all just representations of a genetic code.

I can assure you that most all things drug related is white and black. Horrible and wonderful, which makes a drug user's life such a confusing mess of highs and lows.

I awoke this morning to see everything was in its place. As I had fallen asleep early the previous night, I had awoken late (12PM).

I stood up and walked to the kitchen. Drowsy. The sun was already up in the sky. The heat of the afternoon drilled into the sidewalk.

The dreary fog of tiredness covered my eyes. I slipped back into my room and fell asleep. Now reawakening at 3PM. I could easily continue sleeping, however work was in an hour.

This is the life I live. Every waking moment is a constant struggle against lethargy. Sloth. One of the 7 deadly sins. It has taken over the life of everyone in my family.

Stimulants are normally known to cause anxiety, paranoia, jitters and occasional discomfort. But I've never regretted taking any dose of them. It's like they fill a missing piece to the jig-saw puzzle that is my brain. My body is able to function without wanting sleep. I do not know why this constant pull toward the bedroom happens.

All I can think about is getting some form of stimulant. Some form of stimulant so I can draw. Some form of stimulant so I can work. Some form of stimulant so I can talk to friends.

Caffiene only works for so long. Amphetamines, phenidates... cocaine. I'm addicted to all equally. They bother most people. Drag them into stressful comedowns. Some people think, "Who would ever like these?" as they're coming down and unable to sleep for days. I have never fit into that statistic.

As I push forward, I enjoy the euphoria and uplifting, productivity they provide me with. Call me an addict, but they're tools. I do use them for enjoyment, but they also help me get through the day. Without them I would never wake up.

Nothing really to report as I have just been at home last week or so. Lost my phone in town last tuesday as I left it on the bus, found 6 or so people then had to leave to get on a bus to get my phone back. But the bus driver being a old shit ignored me being on the stop and I had to chase it for 3 minuites. Exhausted I got on and told him I had left my phone on the bus. Some guy sitting where I was sitting looked really scared suddenly but I didn't say anything, I phoned it and it had been turned off, definitely stolen. Disapointed I went back to meet everyone and they had all left apart from the people waiting for me. We walked back to Ethans and I met my mum. Really gutted at loosing a £150 phone a week into having it, worst thing was it was unlocked and there were messages about boosting houses on it...

Apart from that just been at school and home, doing lots of exercise with punch bag, at least 7 hours of gaming a day and some occasional school work, I've enjoyed it. I was off mildly ill on Thursday and Friday, Alexander came round fri-sat and we went car shopping but some how we got nothing... a little disappointing but we had a good time so I'm glad we did it.

I went to the grocery. Whole Foods. There inside, I looked for red, challenging, again. I see the closest approximation, in about a second- or the warmest color of hair, on a lady, who was getting mushrooms. I take note. I'm not sure if it's "red", in the moment, and challenge myself, and doubt, but it's warm, and closest to red that I see. I want to share my experiences, but "is this worth mentioning?". To me, it might be applied to meaning, easily. The world is round, after all. But I didn't see a theme worth mentioning, yet, to another. To just "keep some things to myself", I thought. "There is nothing that would mean anything to anyone else". I got stuck, then, unable to pass through lanes, as the place was very crowded. I try one way, and wait for a second, but it is not clearing. I try another, toward the lady with warm hair, and it is also a bit congested.

I turn around toward the entrance at some point, in doubt, and see a red-headed girl with a Black male, have just entered. This excites me, as yesterday, both times I was there, as I wrote about, I saw pairings of red and black.

I get Apple Cider Vinegar, my 16 ounces a day, and continue on. I pass the Apple Juice, forgetting it at first, but then remember, and go to it, and I see a guy wearing a unique Black and White suit, there in front of the apple juice. He is well dressed, and clean. Stylish. He steps out of the way as I make my way to look at the juice, to make room. What I normally get... A gallon-jug a day, is not there. I make my choice and notice he is looking at coconut water. He's trying to make a choice between them. They are all blue- the containers. I advise, and she says he is trying to find the ones not from concentrate. We talk a little. He sounds effeminate. Nice guy.

Next aisle over is the packaged chicken, which I decided to get today, to save money. At least a few bucks. I take minute or so to decide which package I want. I finally decide, and then look up, turning right, and see the Red-head, and the Black guy down the aisle close to me.

In the check-out, a guy with a striking color of Blue jacket comes in behind me, and I make room for him. The Red-head and the Black guy for a moment step in this line, and I see a singlular Red-head walk by, to the bread, by them, wearing a lot of Black. Then an announcement occurs over the system that says those with small amounts can come to the customer service station. I study the man's jacket who is behind me, as much as I can, as it has some logo on it that matches what I saw on his beanie... It looks like a deer, of sorts. Deer like animal. The one item I first made notice of that he put down was cheese, but I forget the name of it, though I read it.

I see as I check out, the Red and the Black at a register in front of all the other registers, facing North to South, where the regular ones are Northeast to Southwest. It is a singular one, and not actually the customer service desk, that I knew of. They are renovating, and things are changing around. Loren is checking them out. Loren always smiles at me, seeing me before I see her. I believe I followed red out of here.

Driving home, I see a striking, Blue car- a BMW 328i, as I made my way to Meridian, where I stopped at a light, beside this car. I first noticed it's license plate, which said simply, ZUS, and said "Zeus...", in my mind. The guy inside was wearing a Grey hood over his head. I was wearing a Blue hood, which I noticed was of a similar shade as his vehicle. Now that I think, my car is silver, so I can say the same of his hood, for mine. We both nodded. He was the first I saw wearing a hood, today. Maybe I just noticed, because of the spike in attention, admiring his car, and paintjob.

ZUS turned left, with the Green arrow, heading South. I was in the lane to continue heading West, on 86th, home. As he turned left, I noticed a Prius of the same color of Blue (very close appoximation), coming behind me... Lady driving. Green light. Go. As I make it through the intersection, as I cross, I see the same color of Blue, close enough, on a van coming opposite, coming East. It is separated from the other vehicles by a significant gap, in either direction, to stand out as it does. The Prius then passed me.

I make a stop at Redbox, to turn in a movie, Last Days on Mars. I try to write this, but somehow it got deleted by the time I got home.

I see another car of the color of Blue, after making my next turn, onto Ditch. It's not on the road, but it's driving perpendicular with me, in a parking lot to the East- to my left.

Arriving home, as I turn to go through the gates I see a White Prius also waiting to turn in on the opposite side of the road, and as I enter, I noticed a White VW SUV behind me. "White and White", I think. Ahead of me I- continuing what I had been doing, notice a Black vehicle- an Acura MDX, and ahead of it, a Black Malibu. Two Whites at my entrance, behind me, and two Blacks ahead of me. My car is silver.

Making my way to my space. I am out. I notice the same color of Blue, on the car next to me. Similar. The color looks like the title bars here on Bluelight. Similar. This car, to my right, to my South, as my car parks facing East, is the first girl I met here where I moved- my neighbor's- Gina's car.

I could connect more to this. "The world is round". But I need a stopping place. What I wrote beyond this, I will write in a comment.

But as I wrote this, my most recent visitor on this blog is as listed, 08bluesmart.

I just saw that someone in r/LSA posted a link to this page. This archive was an effort to propagate info about MG seeds. I'm still trying to do that (for other subjects too). Lately I post about the subject in these threads: post-16411777 (that links to a recent finding of mine about clavines)  #29540369

I was banned from reddit for no reason and I've been too lazy to send reddit an email. Until then, I want to take this as an opportunity to say that I'm looking for people who can make posts on reddit on my behalf.

My contact info:

[email protected]

https://www.instagram.com/moving9876543/

For twitter, you can make posts on this page: h‍ttps://x.com/moving012345/status/2041613926710841534 (cuz private messages require premium)

I've since edited a lot of the info, and newer findings, into the ergine Wikipedia article. This is a copy of that article before it was heavily edited. That version and the latest version are still a mess (the article is basically a mish-mash of info about ergine, other natural ergolines, and I. tricolor).


Download
Updated: 3/14/2014

Highly pertinent update: How to filter clavines out of morning glory seed preparations. Clavines are responsible for the excessive vasoconstriction.

PM me if you'd like to be added to a Bluelight PM list or email list for updates.

contents:

human trials of isolated lysergamides
alkaloid-specific info
chemical analyses of morning glory seeds
morning glory seeds and their connection to ergot-related fungi
naming issue, Ipomoea violacea/Ipomoea tricolor
publications
vasoconstriction and other somatic effects
cyanogenic glycosides
insight into extraction methods
is there a toxin(s) found in the fuzzy outer layer of A Nervosa seeds?
ololiuhqui, spelling and pronunciation
misc
cultivation
preparation method used by the mesoamericans
synthesis of lysergic acid amide
animals chipmunks tripping on morning glory seeds
are morning glory seeds treated with a fungicide or a deterrent?
good resource for scientific articles

.

Download
Updated: 3/14/2014

PM me if you'd like to be added to a Bluelight PM list or email list for updates.

contents:

human trials of isolated lysergamides
alkaloid-specific info
chemical analyses of morning glory seeds
morning glory seeds are infected with fungi related to ergot
naming issue, Ipomoea violacea/Ipomoea tricolor
publications
vasoconstriction and other somatic effects
cyanogenic glycosides
insight into extraction methods
is there a toxin(s) found in the fuzzy outer layer of A Nervosa seeds?
ololiuhqui, spelling and pronunciation
misc
cultivation
preparation method used by the mesoamericans
synthesis of lysergic acid amide
animals chipmunks tripping on morning glory seeds
are morning glory seeds treated with a fungicide or a deterrent?
good resource for scientific articles

I got a membership to a gym, simply to shower there. My new apartment's tub wasn't cured right, and the paint wets every time I take a shower. Trying to let it dry. May be re-doing it myself.

I had already showered, and was leaving, just about to walk out the door, but I realized I forgot my underwear and baking soda in the shower. I turned around and went back in to the locker-room. My shoes came untied as went in, so I kneeled and tied them. Either before, kneeling to the ground I made recollection of the image as I may have caught it, or as I began to rise, I saw a guy directly in front of me with a very large tattoo on his back of a cross, with a chain over his shoulder.

This fit, the motion and image, even though my intended action was seemingly unrelated, on a surface of thought. Kind of like convergence.

Alright so I was chatting online with friend n0n00dz4u and we were talking about the neo club kid movement that we were both actively participating and trying to promote at home by messing around in cyber space and going to raves and shows with fellow club kids and heads from our respective areas.

As we talked further and further he began to speak of the differences between our two scenes as differences in vector. I asked what a "vector" was and was greeted with a long rambling comment involving a whole explanation of what he called the sector, vector, and cypher concept. I asked for a brief quip so I could blog and received a favorable response.

From what I understand and from what my online friend explained to me is as the following. The Neo Club Kid movement is on the map. If a single person is willing to adopt a certain lifestyle and call it a movement, it is relevant whether others want to recognize it or not. Once people gain understanding and knowledge of a movement they enter what is known as a sector. A sector is a sort of faction from the general understanding and way of life. It is the singular area in which a movement survives. Outside of its a sector wait people who are not part of a singular sector because either they do not know or want to know about the various sectors available to them. Once inside of a sector you enter a vector. A vector contains your friends and the group with who you operate within the movement. This can include people in your area as well as people you talk to online. Being a part of a vector is important because it gives you the social structure to survive inside of a sector.

Now the most important concept is that of a cypher. Within the sector and vector lies the cypher. The cypher represents you and your closest friends within your sector and vector. The cypher is the circle of trust that exists as a partnership between you and a select few. In smoking circles there is usually a large group of smokers, then a smaller group of those who frequently smoke together. Inside of this smaller group usually lies a small clique of people who almost always smoke together. They pool their resources and often are much closer to each other than anyone in the two other groups. This small clique is known as a cypher. That analogy specifically should help explain the concept a little further.

My interest in the concept is definitely piqued and I look forward to taking it further and incorporating it as a part of my lexicon. I think its important that any movement have an original lexicon that makes it unique from other groups or people and I think the further development of this concept will only aid the faction in its progress and growth.

the earliest I remember, I was in someone's place.

car wreck. can't slow down fast enough. it seems it slows down to a certain speed and just keeps going like it's on ice, not that it's on ice. the wreck was up the road. many people i knew around. i managed to stop by putting the car sideways.

there were lots of plants. i bought a lot of plants. i hadn't realized how obsessive it got, flowers hanging from the ceiling. cacti, and flowers. some looked like power-flowers.

there was a book that I found, that showed cave-men looking people, and a christian cross. the book was orange. i associated it with my mythology book that my mom got me for christmas years ago. i found it under a tree, a pine tree, undamaged, opened to a picture of a- an image of a red fox.

there was a dead reptile, or some kind of half plant half reptile-like thing, in the porch area or whatever it was that i had gathered all these plants in. screened in porch-like. some plants were dying of neglect, already. i didn't remember i had so many. i was in a ladies house, this whole time, using this space. she didn't mind too much. her son had just died. sometimes i felt insensitive. she said she had to make room, i think, for a baby, who was coming some way or another in june. that it was okay if i stayed until then.

my grandmother was there. she had a painted face. she's deceased. purple/violet with reflective paint mixed in. like a dancer. lines, simple lines. minimal. in ways hindu-like. she looked tiny, compared to how she looked. younger. but i knew she had been dead. it was almost as if she didn't know. i think her clothing might have been purples, as well. she remembered falling just a moment ago, and we were too busy to deal with her, on a personal level, like people seem to with old people sometimes.

an older black lady, dressed in orange, had just gotten mad at some of us for being away from the group. and perhaps because we were using opium. we were in an "opium den". a basement of sorts. I descended in there following my brother in law's lead- a brother in law who does not use drugs, though may have experimented with marijuana, and has a thing for coffee. and hiking, and writing, and writing about God. he was really open and not considering it a bad thing at all, more like an adventure- an activity, which was surprising to me. so nonchalant. i thought maybe it got him closer to God in some way. i had my head down, my hat on, and traded the first hit out of a stone pipe, with a stone pipe of my own, giving it to the one who had the stuff, but then he seemed to give it back, or to another. the stuff was very potent, and the taste rich, like a coffee-marijuana resin. not like the flowery opium i know. i took a deep hit, and held onto the pipe, which seemed to bother one guy, or worry him that i may drop it, but i maintained, and made eye contact, and then handed it off to him. and he is the one who had the pipe i gave.

i then noticed everyone. i knew them. the guy who had the opium that we were using was one, and then another, who was J.R., a guy I used to be friends with, but who friendship sort of dropped with, perhaps after I took his girlfriend on a date, when they weren't dating. but they dated for years and years, from middle school through college, with periods of being broken up. i was always curious about her, from childhood on she was my longest crush, and i saw her first, and he just got with her, first, not having any idea of my 7 year crush, and i didn't hold it against him, so, what a fucker. anyways. he married christina, and here he had the opium. but it was another guys. and i knew all of them. and though brandon, my brother in law, brought me down there, i don't remember seeing him again.

i had a thought while sitting there feeling the first hit come on that i should have taken more. my seat reclined back, and forth. flexible. i wanted more. but i was fine with the one hit, on that idea that i did want more, and might want more after. not that pure opium is that addictive, i guess.

the lady in orange made us stop. black lady. big orange hat. salmon-orange, actually, was her clothing color?

j.r. shook his head, in annoyance, and we acknowledged we both felt the same, with eye contact. who is this lady? of course, she wanted us to rejoin the group, so, eh. she might be right.

here is where my grandmother showed up, with painted lines on her face, on her forehead, and down from her eyes on her cheeks, wavey lines, plum-silver, and purple. slightly smaller.

i remember walking with my dad, earlier on. he was warning me of a red-wolf spider, that was apparently rather poisonous. i seemed to have no fear of them, or any spiders. i had been spending a lot of time in nature, with plants. gathering plants, perhaps, or taking care of them.

there were tiny little men-things, who were no more than a foot tall. less. they were seemingly covered in snow. they hid in these chambers, on the ground. it was known that they always rested/stood where they could see at least a slice of lava from volcano, or something. something. so i looked where they were looking, and they were looking at these things that might appear like whistles, with a barrel, a half barrel coming out of the ground, formed from fire, or something. they seemed like natural things, these little guys. they were rather moody, too. i'm pretty sure they attacked me when i got between them and their views of these... fire whistles. not whistles at all, but just visually it resembled. ovens, maybe. clay. all natural formations. the men seemed made of clay and snow. what they looked at, religiously, made of clay, and fire. i remember kicking them, when they attacked me. And they just kept coming back, just smaller, and smaller, until maybe there was nothing. they were angry. i was just defending myself. they were like angry insects. they were regarded as something special, and it was unfortunate that i had to do it, but understandable.

Maybe it's supposed to teach me.

Whole Foods

Pick up apple cider vinegar

Turn corner

See oh my God look at her ass
Female, wearing those tight stretchy black pants
Perfect
Oh my
What?
What?
Uhhhhhhhh
She's by the milk. She's picking out milk. I remember I forgot the Apple Juice, so I get it, then see her again, still picking out Milk. I keep walking, and turn around and glance to see her get up, and walk my way.

Weaving through the aisles, to get the the registers, picking up Bob's Red Mill Baking Soda on the way, she emerges, close to me, behind me.
Red hair
and her skin also appears to be red. It's not the same orange red, it's almost brown. But she is a red head, though from a distance it did appear brown, and without seeing her face.

She checks the check-out aisle next to me but then comes to the one I am in. I arrange my items so that she can put hers down without much effort, providing the spacer, as it was already there, before she got another one. She sat down her

Milk.

And I think that was all she had, or that was all I saw, before it was my turn to be checked out. I had Apple Cider Vinegar, Applejuice, and Baking Soda.

I don't remember being so close to Milk, distinctly, in awhile. Though I know people have had Milk in their items, and I have walked closely to it, it has been in the mix of many other things. Maybe I just focused on it this time. Perhaps yea, I have been in similar proximity with it, but it was how I noticed it.

Then for the first time, I make the connection that the guy at the register, I forget his name right now, that a certain girl is his girl. He got me set up, putting stuff in the bag for me, but simultaneously pulled out keys, and motioned to this girl who had just been before me, saying "I guess you're going to need these". She walks over, with her cart, and their new Son, not a year old, who was riding in the top. I have talked with this guy, about his being a musician of sorts, and someone who works in recording, and have heard him talk about his new son briefly, and girl, but have never connected it- have never seen his son, and didn't know that this girl was who he was with.

I went on my way, and stopped to watch for a moment the people at the pie-eating contest, as people were crowded around laughing, smiling, and cheering. I only stayed for a moment, and turned to see to the girl who I had seen, with the beautiful ass (oh my God), and well, she was very pretty, and could say beautiful (bootyful), no disrespect by mentioning her ass so much, but they do assk for it wearing those pantss, and this girl was now completed at the check out, smiling, walking, synchronous with my timing/mine with hers. An older Black man, white hair, stocky, also begins to walk as I stop and start from stopping to check the pie eaters out at another angle, recognizing them. He makes eye contact with me, and mentions how he would never do that, that what we eat now is what out body is tomorrow- that splurging like that is bad. I agree. We walk together much of the way to our vehicles, talking, and the red-head some steps behind. The wind blew my hat off nearly, the cord around my neck stopped it. I raised my hand up and almost hit the man, but he didn't acknowledge... He just kept talking.

And the red-head saw my huge bald spot. As soon as my hat flew off I sensed her changing course. Haha. This could be coincidence. But the way things align sometimes, like this, interests me. For some reason red-heads and Black people go together, in forms, with me, in my life. As well, the connection visually I made with her in the beginning, after getting the Apple Cider Vinegar, and unfiltered apple juice- the color of her hair, the calling of my instincts that occurred when I saw her first, and where she ended up right next to me, with milk- milk that I first stopped drinking as soon as I got with my first red-head, before realizing I was allergic, and much more in the same-associations in life, that perhaps I will only know, as fully as I do, for a human. Milk with the mother. My first red-haired girl, bringing together for me a perceived pattern, connecting to my mother. Then the guy who works in recording, and music, and his girl, who I have always noticed to be sweet, and smiling, always, when I see her, though never connected them, and the first time seeing their son, with his honey colored hair. There was a certain mixing of the hair types, of the red-haired girl, and this child. Some, "unfiltered", color.

it seem like i can never do anything right, i can never make up my mind about anything. one day i hate alcohol the next ill risk pretty everything to get drunk one last time. If my parents dont let me stay with them at lest til iget in a program im going to do one of two things im going to go back to heroin or im going to kill myself. i swear id get more time time for a drunk in public than id ever get for a pocession charge. The worst part is i dont even realy want to get sober, i cant stand the thought of having nothing to kill the anxiety make the hours go by faster. its times like thes i think suicide is probably the better option, that way at least my family will know my troubles are over.

I was about to write this in my phone, but then it locked up.

9:06 was the time, frozen on a red screen. Bastille, Bad Blood, had just come on the radio. One of my favorite newer songs I've heard recently. I like the sound.

The details as to what prompted my thought that I am in hell I won't mention.

Maybe I'm not "in hell", but its not heaven. And I will likely always be bound.
I'm not sure I want it any other way.

Without binding, there is no "I", to want.

That's okay.

It starts off simple, almost innocent.

You get in an accident and injure yourself. You go to the hospital, get evaluated by a physician, then they reach for their prescription pad and scribble you a prescription for an "odone". In this case, it started with hydrocodone. 7.5 mg of hydrocodone, 325 mg of acetaminophen. Vicodin. Add a muscle relaxer in for good measure, preferably carisoprodol. Soma. You go home, take 2 tablets of the Vicodin, 1 of the Soma. You feel fucking AMAZING. The warmth takes over your body, everything is fuzzy, happiness floods your brain. The pain is instantly gone. The pain from the accident, the pain from growing up in a fucked up household as a child. Everything is gone. Everything dissipates. You make it a nightly ritual to take your medication right before bed, it helps you sleep after all. You spend your nights in your bed, surfing the web, playing games on your phone while nodding in and out of consciousness. Your back doesn't hurt. Your depression goes away. Everything seems okay in the world. Until your prescription runs out.

You follow up with your primary care physician about your pain. Tell her what happened. Play on her emotions. Make her feel bad for you. You were only 19, you did not ask to be rear ended by a drunk driver. She is a new doctor and only 5 years older than you, so you get her on your side. She asks about your emergency room visit, what helped you, what was prescribed. You tell her that you got "something with tylenol and hydrocodone". Do not say the word "Vicodin". Do not let her know that you are in love with this drug. Pretend like you are oblivious to it. When she asks how it works, you tell her that it knocks your pain down to a 7/10 instead of a 9/10. "Is there anything else we can do for the pain?" Of course there is. She prescribes you another "odone". This time, it's oxycodone. You go home, take 2. WOW. Even better. You fall in love. This love affair lasts for 2 years. Then, I stay clean. For 4 months. I complain again, and get the beloved hydrocodone.

My mind falls in love again. My bod

I am here again, having another moan,
Why won't they just leave me alone
No matter how much I try it's never enough,
And responses received always seem so rough

How hard I try, it doesn't matter,
Amongst those enemies, there's but a nasty natter,
I always take the bait,
I know for me there's a lot of hate

Who am I trying to kid?
Thinking of a fresh start, those trolls they just want rid,
They sit and watch for me to botch,
Up Everything, they are lying there in watch,

Feeling ok I see another E-mail,
This is never going to end, why don't I just bail?
I am grieving for an online friend, feeling full of pain of so much hurt,
Yet they still send their cruel words, treating me like dirt,

Do they want me torn apart bit by bit,
Because they are doing that every time they hit,
With every single word
They may as well be stabbing me, all of the herd

Those words that hit me in the soul like a storm for of thunder,
For the millionth time I site here asking why, I sit and wonder,
Why do they want to tear me apart
Are they angry that I was finally granted my fresh start?

I wish this would all end,
And from this, I could mend,
I wish so much they'd stop watching and hunting me so,
And leave me be - away please go.

13/03/2014

Holy fucking shit my son in law drinks.

I've never seen anyone get that drunk.

I've seen a lot of people who drink. And people who drink too much.

My mom for one. But whatever, she's old. She's done. I'm done up there.

But I don't know how my daughter's husband gets up each morning. You should see it.

He drinks so much that his eyes do this thing... I don't know how to describe it.

His eyes can't focus. When he is sober and he looks at me, he looks at me, right?

When he has been drinking, he looks at me too. But he pushes himself

to get to the point where he doesn't make eye contact, like his eyes stumble inside his eye sockets for something to focus on, and they can't find anything so they start to roll up into his fucking head, and just when you think he's going to fall out, he finds something to look at for an instant, and the cycle goes on like that, and he continues to drink, until he does fall out.

Fortunately my daughter has gotten into al anon and that is helping her figure this shit out.

I'm in it too. I started it for her anyway. But I'm in it too. I don't like though. It's often sad. I do it anyway.

If you are reading this, then you must have some experience with people who drink, because I titled it "Drunks" hoping to attract your attention.

What the fuck is with the alcoholics????

Sometimes I get so mad, you know? My daughter and her husband have a gorgeous healthy baby boy, and dada gets drunk like that every god damn night.

I don't know how he does that. I will never know how he does that.

Meanwhile, my oldest son and his wife are incredible people who would love nothing more than to have a child. They have been trying for two years. It breaks my heart. My son is the sweetest man alive. Yes I said it. He is, and if you knew him you would know I'm right.

I need to go to sleep. I get up early.
I watch my grandson full time because my daughter works full time. Even when drunk dada isn't working, which is often, he doesn't watch the kid. He can't the kid. If he watched the kid, there would not be a kid left.

Got pulled over last night. They said I was going 47 in a 30. They were wrong.

He clocked me as I went around a corner, heading into the town of Spencer, Indiana. I wasn't yet even past the 40 mph marker, which is after the curve. The zone I was in when he clocked me was at least 50 mph, and very likely 55. I was going 47, and slowed to 40 or so at the site of the 40 marker. He was sitting in a 30mph zone, down the road, when he clocked me.

The cop seemed supervised. Another was with him. And he seemed young, and nervous slightly. This is the first time that I've been pulled over for speeding that I knew I wasn't speeding. Or, genuinely remembered abiding by the posted limit, having a distinct feeling. Regardless, I didnt want to argue past my questions, and asked for leniency, explaining how I haven't got a ticket in five years, and one ticket would cost me my job. He let me off with a verbal warning... But I shouldnt have been pulled over anyways, technically going under the speed limit where he claimed to have clocked me.

I'm thinking about calling their police department to tell them. Not to complain in anger... But they need to be aware.

.....

I moved into a new apartment. They used cheap paint in the tub. They didn't apply it right. Every time I shower it smells like paint... And I can put my hand on the tub floor and it will have white paint on it three days after I showered last (yes... I'm gross). I've had a heater in there to try to dry it. No good still. When I moved in the paint was 2 weeks old. It still smelled to me like paint. Really horrible job.

I want out.

In the mean time I'm going to get a membership to a gym for 10 bucks a month and just use their showers.

I'm going to buy some no VOC paint and recoat my apartment to seal in the older, higher VOC paint, and I'm going to re-do the tub, to my satisfaction. When they set these places up, whatever contractor they are using, is failing. They arent doing one coat, letting it dry, for a day, then applying the second coat. Its like they just throw some paint around. Its starting to occur to me that if you want things done right, you have to do them yourself..

My dad wanted me to try to let the apartment take care of it, when I bounced this off of him. I really don't trust them. To do it right, its a two day long deal, at least. And I doubt they will do that right. I don't want them slathering more toxic shit that won't dry. Stuff gives me a headache. Makes me slur words and forget how to say "Hungary". The only thing that seems to help other than removal for 24 hours is tons of transdermal magnesium. But that just makes me better able to detox.

My dad and I are at odds a lot. He will take my side on things, then flip flop. He's aging, so I think this may be part of this. He will forget his position.

I really wish people would do their jobs right. I'm a perfectionist. I could be a better cop, and a better painter. But I have sensitivities to chemicals in paint so I'd rather not (though I could wear a mask), and I don't want to arrest people for pot, or other drugs for that matter.

I really want to work toward a stone house. Or something. Glass. Everything inert. I don't like paint inside.

Dream

Alston and I were going to rent jet skis. We started at a hospital, where many who we knew were. My dad had been there, and was smoking. Lots of people were smoking. I was smoking, at some point. It was a hospital, but also like a place of congregation.

Alston and I, but it seemed like Richard and I (both at some point), went some place, along a shore. There was a mountain, or mountains, white or gray in color in them, around this part. David rode in a helicopter. He set up the deal, to rent the skis, where we were going. I ended up paying for it all, at roughly 500 bucks. Just under. Two money orders of 241 dollars each. I had initially had this set up some way to where I would spend half or less on the skis, as they weren't that much, and then more on drugs, but then something changed. And my mom was on my tail, chasing me, wanting to see exactly what I was spending all my money on. And she almost made me wreck because of how much she was chasing me. Richard said something about how children can do that, like babies can do that, while you are driving... By demanding your attention, putting things in your face. As we arrived at the location, I finished telling him how I wanted him and his new wife to have children. Not like "I want you to make children", but that they would do well together, and basically that they have my blessing to bring more life into the world, not that they need my permission. But I told him, when they do, to have the child and the other parent in the back seat, so that they don't wreck.

We arrived at the location of the jet skis. It was a tiny pond, but it had flooded. The entire area was flooded. Trees poked up from water. And what I thought were leaves, soon I saw were very large, bloated millipedes, or mealworms. They had varying colors, resembling the color of leaves on the ground in the fall. They were thick. Under the water, and floating. So we decided that today wouldn't be a good day to ride jet skis, as we would end up with guts and dead stuff all over us, it might be likely. And the weather, it was dark and gloomy. And perhaps a little cold, or no, just not hot. The area we were in covered by a canopy of trees.

David had apparently already scoped it and decided not to go, himself, but sold us tickets to get out of something, perhaps.

And there at the location, Richard was Alston.

Back at the hospital, I decided to give Alston half of the money- my money, as he held onto it anyways, and I guess I saw that he was desperate enough to do that, perhaps, so I didn't want to fight him for it. But he also held onto my order. I knew I would get it back, but still wondered if I could trust this guy I grew up with.

People were still smoking. My father was. In a hospital.

I did some strange movements- like clockwork movements, though not anything you can think of, but you might, by me just saying that. It was sort of a dance. Random dance, but not. I ended up pointing to things. And once I my pointing went to a red book in a room that said Co-Christ. Co something Christ. Creative. Co Creative Christ. Creative Co-Christ.

Last I seem to remember, I'm in an elevator with my dad, and Alston perhaps, going down.

We knew her, and this wasn't permanent. But she didn't like it. We were using her head, for some reason. I never quite figured it out. Her head was hung. Alston poked fun at her. They were friends. She was Amanda. We were on some ship, it seemed like. And in some competition. I was mainly just watching. Lots of water around, like we were on ships, but we were inside, still. Not on the open water. Computers were around. People I knew were checking them. Amanda's head was just patiently waiting, for something.

On the way down it seems like we hit a large metal machine-part. Turbine, most likely. A main part of the turbine. Long large beam with a cone shape at the end.

Things didn't seem to be going well, doing it the way they were supposed to be done, in the competition. I remember strife. Doing things our own way when an argument was had.

I kept on hiding from Amanda. She wanted to talk to me, and I seemed to have memory of talking to her for awhile, on a long road trip. I'd have a short conversation with her, here, and then act like I was busy, but then I'd just go lay down or something.

Last night I dreamed Snoop Dog was selling someone I knew weed. Or Snoop Lion.