panda_behr
Bluelighter
At approximately 6:45 PM (PST) April 20, 2008 I ingested 1/3 of three crushed up cubes filled with
Lysergic acid diethylamide :D
These cubes had the potential of being 6 hits because my friend was baked when he dosed them and double dosed a bunch. We crushed them up and split them into three equal lines. I was with some of my closest friends. R, a friend from elementary school, B, his girlfriend, A, a good friend from high school, and O, another friend from high school.
B split her cube with A, while R and I devoured ours, O opted to just get really baked and enjoy the beach.
Up until about 3:00 PM (PST) April 21, 2008 I was frying.
I have witnessed beauty beyond imagination.
It was a full moon, B R A O and I went to Wright's Beach in Bodega Bay to camp for the night and drop.
We stood as if transfixed by the majesty that is life and basked in stolen sunlight. We watched as molten light played across the tops of the waves as they hurtled unendingly into darkest shore. The moon, in all of her glory, dominated the sky and banished motley starlight to its wayward corners of the cosmos.
R and I discussed the muse and the roots of pure art.
In the end I realized that Life is the Muse.
Art is just the artist rationalizing his (or her) feverish view of what is.
I convinced myself for a while that producing art was wrong because we should all be out Enjoying what is instead of viewing someone else's interpretation.
But then, just as quickly, realized that viewing other's interpretations is what allows us to appreciate every facet of beauty (be it traditionally "beautiful" or not).
My mother, acting as Soothsayer, the day before kept telling me that "she felt that something was going to happen, not meaning bad, just something" and something did happen.
As we gazed into my lover's eyes she roared back her defiance and smashed into the decayed wreckage of what she had conquered before, as that sweetly pilfered sunlight danced across her brow, some unfortunate celestial body hurtled through the atmosphere igniting in a remarkable display of smoke and light. It was if some force winked at us all, letting us know that it knew and that we were brought upon this planet for no other purpose then to enjoy and interpret what we see.
I walked across the sand, a veritable desert of dunes and driftwood, and books of poetry coalesced in my mind and raced off into nothingness. I felt that to speak aloud such poignant words would only cheapen them, and to utter them would be succumbing to dreadful ego. Why must others know how astounded I was? Isn't it enough that I knew?
That is all I can comprehend right now. I am still sorting it all out, and only reflection will tell what I learned from this experience.
Much love to you all!
panda
substancecode_LSD
Lysergic acid diethylamide :D
These cubes had the potential of being 6 hits because my friend was baked when he dosed them and double dosed a bunch. We crushed them up and split them into three equal lines. I was with some of my closest friends. R, a friend from elementary school, B, his girlfriend, A, a good friend from high school, and O, another friend from high school.
B split her cube with A, while R and I devoured ours, O opted to just get really baked and enjoy the beach.
Up until about 3:00 PM (PST) April 21, 2008 I was frying.
I have witnessed beauty beyond imagination.
It was a full moon, B R A O and I went to Wright's Beach in Bodega Bay to camp for the night and drop.
We stood as if transfixed by the majesty that is life and basked in stolen sunlight. We watched as molten light played across the tops of the waves as they hurtled unendingly into darkest shore. The moon, in all of her glory, dominated the sky and banished motley starlight to its wayward corners of the cosmos.
R and I discussed the muse and the roots of pure art.
In the end I realized that Life is the Muse.
Art is just the artist rationalizing his (or her) feverish view of what is.
I convinced myself for a while that producing art was wrong because we should all be out Enjoying what is instead of viewing someone else's interpretation.
But then, just as quickly, realized that viewing other's interpretations is what allows us to appreciate every facet of beauty (be it traditionally "beautiful" or not).
My mother, acting as Soothsayer, the day before kept telling me that "she felt that something was going to happen, not meaning bad, just something" and something did happen.
As we gazed into my lover's eyes she roared back her defiance and smashed into the decayed wreckage of what she had conquered before, as that sweetly pilfered sunlight danced across her brow, some unfortunate celestial body hurtled through the atmosphere igniting in a remarkable display of smoke and light. It was if some force winked at us all, letting us know that it knew and that we were brought upon this planet for no other purpose then to enjoy and interpret what we see.
I walked across the sand, a veritable desert of dunes and driftwood, and books of poetry coalesced in my mind and raced off into nothingness. I felt that to speak aloud such poignant words would only cheapen them, and to utter them would be succumbing to dreadful ego. Why must others know how astounded I was? Isn't it enough that I knew?
That is all I can comprehend right now. I am still sorting it all out, and only reflection will tell what I learned from this experience.
Much love to you all!
panda
substancecode_LSD
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