TheMerryPrankster
Bluelighter
It has been suggested by some that I make more posts, as my writing syle seems to be appreciated by a few. Here follows a second attempt. But unlike the first - this one is not long 
)
Amsterdam! We had been awake for 30 hours, the last seven of which had been spent driving from Mainz, Germany. It was a spur of the moment decision – as Amsterdam always was. We hit the Flying Dutchman ‘coffee-house’ at about 6pm, ordered a beer and a hundred hits of acid. We were veteran trippers so did two hits each, which for the times was quite adventurous, as back in the 80’s LSD was the real thing, and one was usually enough. What we hadn’t factored in was that after 30 hours of being awake, many of which were spent driving, on a system that had been psychedelically clean for at least a month, acid can amplify in truly unexpected ways.
Within 10 minutes it kicked in – really, really hard – so that 5 minutes later we had to leave the Dutchman, for fear of making a scene. It’s only been 15 minutes and I am obliterated. Like I’m on Gascid with hard edges – like I took 25 trips, not 2. Matter has broken down at the cellular level. The cobblestone streets are like meteors – not just passing through me – but which I am a part of. I am an energy force – a gravity – moving through a treacle like substance – like being underwater, but much, much heavier.
Fortunately one of us is straight, and holds the other two by the hand – as we are effectively blind – at least in terms of navigating a reality filled with other random gravitational beings, whos motion is not only beyond our control, but also our predictive imaginations. We find ourselves in a quiet familiar street. Time has passed and reality has resolved into something at least fathomable.
Our straight friend took us to a bar that we frequented – frequently on acid – so we felt safe going there. Our straight friend got us a beer – and we tried to verbalize our utter annihilation – the strongest physical experience either of us had on acid and remained sane. In an effort to try and recover some form of psychological anchor, I tried to express my perceptions. My voice had a solid quality about it – as though what I was saying and the texture with which I was saying it was communicating an essential meaning and understanding deep beneath the sounds.
The experience was so huge – so way beyond conscious comprehension – that I decided to go with my instincts, and tried to convey a concept in a way I never had – where the actual people involved in the conversation were necessary parts in its playing out. I was trying to get three brain/minds to cooperate on a single objective – a shared consciousness that could form an idea that could never otherwise come into being. And I believed that these two very close friends were the ones who could help bring this idea – bigger than one person – into the open. It involved the play-out of a conversation between us that had to flow in a specific order – but I believed then that it was possible.
It began with me speaking some outrageous words – words that could create all sorts of miscommunication. But I was so high on this incredible LSD experience that I was willing to take the risk – even if my friends thought I was a weirdo – even if it meant them mocking me for a few weeks. It was worth the shot. Because if it worked – we would have all understood something magnificent.
So I decided to do it – no matter how strange it was. And when I heard their voices drop to silence, I blurted out, in a voice loud enough to rise above the noise of the crowded bar…
“I understand the meaning of the ultimate truth!!!”
I don’t know whether it was a moment of cosmic somnolence – or one of those times that the gods feel it just right to play a practical joke on an unsuspecting mortal. Perhaps it was just the universe teaching me an abject lesson in absolute humility – a whack of the cane on my psycho-spiritual butt – but whatever the case, it was at that very moment, that everyone in the bar, for some incomprehensible and ever since unfathomable reason, decided to stop speaking, just a fraction of a second before my seemingly profound, and undeniably seemingly egotistical utterance. And what was until that moment, the boisterous uproar of a cosmopolitan collection of talkative strangers was an absolute silence – excluding the sound of my adamant and earnest voice, carrying the words “I understand the meaning of the ultimate Truth!!!”
I don’t know if it is possible to imagine the enormity of my embarrassment. In any normal situation this would be a stunningly self-conscious moment – but totally fried out of my gourd on one of the strongest doses of acid I had ever done, it was the ultimate humiliation. I might have been able to contextualize the statement to my companions, who knew me to be somewhat effervescent in my psychedelic exuberance, but squinting furtively at the crowd of strangers – mostly straight – who were now turning to stare at me – I could offer no justification – or excuse. And as I prayed that part of my cosmic comprehension somehow included the ability to become invisible, my absolute humiliation seemed to roar around me until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I mumbled something incoherent to my friends and skulked out of the bar, trying to look as small and insignificant as I possibly could – the universe still being constructed of tiny meteors, through which I was bludgeoning my path.
It was 6 hours before I began regaining my composure - and another 10 before the acid finally subsided. There are a million stories to tell of that night – each one as magnificent – yet infinitely more enjoyable than the first.
Maybe I will share some of them, too.
)Amsterdam! We had been awake for 30 hours, the last seven of which had been spent driving from Mainz, Germany. It was a spur of the moment decision – as Amsterdam always was. We hit the Flying Dutchman ‘coffee-house’ at about 6pm, ordered a beer and a hundred hits of acid. We were veteran trippers so did two hits each, which for the times was quite adventurous, as back in the 80’s LSD was the real thing, and one was usually enough. What we hadn’t factored in was that after 30 hours of being awake, many of which were spent driving, on a system that had been psychedelically clean for at least a month, acid can amplify in truly unexpected ways.
Within 10 minutes it kicked in – really, really hard – so that 5 minutes later we had to leave the Dutchman, for fear of making a scene. It’s only been 15 minutes and I am obliterated. Like I’m on Gascid with hard edges – like I took 25 trips, not 2. Matter has broken down at the cellular level. The cobblestone streets are like meteors – not just passing through me – but which I am a part of. I am an energy force – a gravity – moving through a treacle like substance – like being underwater, but much, much heavier.
Fortunately one of us is straight, and holds the other two by the hand – as we are effectively blind – at least in terms of navigating a reality filled with other random gravitational beings, whos motion is not only beyond our control, but also our predictive imaginations. We find ourselves in a quiet familiar street. Time has passed and reality has resolved into something at least fathomable.
Our straight friend took us to a bar that we frequented – frequently on acid – so we felt safe going there. Our straight friend got us a beer – and we tried to verbalize our utter annihilation – the strongest physical experience either of us had on acid and remained sane. In an effort to try and recover some form of psychological anchor, I tried to express my perceptions. My voice had a solid quality about it – as though what I was saying and the texture with which I was saying it was communicating an essential meaning and understanding deep beneath the sounds.
The experience was so huge – so way beyond conscious comprehension – that I decided to go with my instincts, and tried to convey a concept in a way I never had – where the actual people involved in the conversation were necessary parts in its playing out. I was trying to get three brain/minds to cooperate on a single objective – a shared consciousness that could form an idea that could never otherwise come into being. And I believed that these two very close friends were the ones who could help bring this idea – bigger than one person – into the open. It involved the play-out of a conversation between us that had to flow in a specific order – but I believed then that it was possible.
It began with me speaking some outrageous words – words that could create all sorts of miscommunication. But I was so high on this incredible LSD experience that I was willing to take the risk – even if my friends thought I was a weirdo – even if it meant them mocking me for a few weeks. It was worth the shot. Because if it worked – we would have all understood something magnificent.
So I decided to do it – no matter how strange it was. And when I heard their voices drop to silence, I blurted out, in a voice loud enough to rise above the noise of the crowded bar…
“I understand the meaning of the ultimate truth!!!”
I don’t know whether it was a moment of cosmic somnolence – or one of those times that the gods feel it just right to play a practical joke on an unsuspecting mortal. Perhaps it was just the universe teaching me an abject lesson in absolute humility – a whack of the cane on my psycho-spiritual butt – but whatever the case, it was at that very moment, that everyone in the bar, for some incomprehensible and ever since unfathomable reason, decided to stop speaking, just a fraction of a second before my seemingly profound, and undeniably seemingly egotistical utterance. And what was until that moment, the boisterous uproar of a cosmopolitan collection of talkative strangers was an absolute silence – excluding the sound of my adamant and earnest voice, carrying the words “I understand the meaning of the ultimate Truth!!!”
I don’t know if it is possible to imagine the enormity of my embarrassment. In any normal situation this would be a stunningly self-conscious moment – but totally fried out of my gourd on one of the strongest doses of acid I had ever done, it was the ultimate humiliation. I might have been able to contextualize the statement to my companions, who knew me to be somewhat effervescent in my psychedelic exuberance, but squinting furtively at the crowd of strangers – mostly straight – who were now turning to stare at me – I could offer no justification – or excuse. And as I prayed that part of my cosmic comprehension somehow included the ability to become invisible, my absolute humiliation seemed to roar around me until I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I mumbled something incoherent to my friends and skulked out of the bar, trying to look as small and insignificant as I possibly could – the universe still being constructed of tiny meteors, through which I was bludgeoning my path.
It was 6 hours before I began regaining my composure - and another 10 before the acid finally subsided. There are a million stories to tell of that night – each one as magnificent – yet infinitely more enjoyable than the first.
Maybe I will share some of them, too.
)
