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Some notes I took

FBI parte due

Folces Weard
Each moment of what’s going on is divided into slices, which move through time on an axis – they’re slices of time. [Illustration of a coordinate plane with “time” along the x axis. Vertical lines are drawn up from the x axis to illustrate the “slices”]

And there was a shape of time between me and [Illustration of two lines meeting at a point, creating an angle of about 15°]
a thing
and being far from closing painful and I was trying to bring myself the thing being closed
because otherwise
it was painful



and they
were sideways
rà – network
________________________________

The net color was blue, so it looked kind of like a thomas the tank engine w/ teeth [illustration of the way things were set up; my friend is sitting on one end of the table, I’m sitting in the middle. There is a rough rectangle drawn around the bottom of the table, us, and the tops of our heads. “teeth + face” is scrawled next to it. Below it is what I must have seen at some point – a long, rectangular shape with a row of flat, herbivore-type teeth lining the bottom and an eye in the upper-left corner. It looks baleful.]

It was big and terrifying, so I guess it was a bad trip, but I reassured everyone that it was OK, because I was sure that as soon as I got out of the progression of time (the sooner the thing going [same illustration of two lines meeting at a point] reached its conclusion, I would be OK. What terrified me after saying that (a little while of thought in between) was that I was going to be stuck in a moment before the ending, mentally, to just feel and be in the exact same place, mentally, speakingly, and etc forever. I was afraid of an eternity at the same shape and feeling and thoughts – unable to get used to the mild annoyance and never able to think anything else. It was the fear of that that was the really bad bit, the bit in which I fell on the floor.

I think it was an interpretation of the way that the smoke burning and the velling throat made me stop, but my will made me want to go on. The unpleasantness was parallel – getting stuck w/ getting stuck – one eternal and one just seeming eternal - those last two bits were like receiving a sudden flash of intellectual insight that will change the world forever. The weird thing is that that will make more sense when I’m down and the stuff at the beginning seemed perfectly logical and obvious - that’s the way things are – than what I’m now writing (would have seemed)

[“My last will and testament –[my name]”, surrounded by arrows pointing out]

[In colored pencil]

Like forever kter clumins?
I still feel bowed over the way I was [illustrations of two lines at the same angle as before, but not meeting]
there’s still a force, but I’m not stuck in a moment
I wonder if this is like the “I saw forever” thing most? people get

[STRIKE]forever it (meaning[/STRIKE]
there was something else there, but I can’t express it

The trains fell apart into the circles on back of the your eyelids
Before, there were a bunch of those circles (theye were arranged in circles [rough illustration of objects like the ones illustrated before arranged in close-packed circles around an empty center] except many more pam circle

In aggregate, the
1 moment of smoking was [indecipherable]

even later:
that wasn’t a trip, it was a place
I was there, it was just one place

shit took me by surprise

even more last:

finally out of there but still half of my mind was in
 
Were you tripping when you took these notes? SRSLY.
 
Trippin' on a hole in a paper heart?
 
The doors of perception have been opened.
 
This is the end. My only friend, the end.
 
I blame CaptainWacky.
 
My younger sister, my best friend, and I used to trip on shrooms in the summer. One time we had the bright idea that we'd record ourselves because we thought we were so hilarious and deep. Turns out we weren't making much sense at all, but we laughed A LOT.
 
I tried to do that this summer, but then we ended up migrating to the TV room to watch the 700 Club and unplugging the tape recorder to take it with us ended up being too complex a task. It was probably for the best. I don't know if I need a recording of me and two other people going "WHY is your FACE so BIG?" and "GUYS, the COUCH is totally EATING me and I REALLY need HELP seriously I CAN'T GET OUT" (interspersed with random giggling and comments on how the walls were breathing) for six hours straight out there for people to listen to.
 
i can relate to the notes. i find the moment of hopeful realization, that moment where you seem to be on the brink of the thought that will solve everything, the equation will be complete, everything will fit, everything is complete, is a common thread with trips like that.

i also had a feeling of being "stuck", i even formulated the thought, "well shit, if i'm stuck in this dimension forever then it's going to suck." if my guess is right, then that is one powerful sage, to make veteran psychonauts crumble like that.
 
also, i remembered more the following week than i did in the first thirty minutes after being back on the couch.
 
My younger sister, my best friend, and I used to trip on shrooms in the summer. One time we had the bright idea that we'd record ourselves because we thought we were so hilarious and deep. Turns out we weren't making much sense at all, but we laughed A LOT.

You must find those tapes and make them available to us!
 
It was a pretty interesting trip. That was the first time I'd ever "broken through" on salvia, and it was also my first bad trip - before I'd kind of gotten started down that path, but I'd always managed to steer out of it ("Little Fluffy Clouds" was really helpful with that). Salvia comes on so quickly (at least the extract does), though, that you really can't steer the trip at all. It's a nice trade-off, though - if you do have a bad trip, it's over within 15 minutes, and then you can get up off the floor, brush your clothes off, and pack the bong with something saner while someone else orders pizza and you try to figure out what time is.

The part that really interests me is how my writing got less lucid as I was coming down. I think I was just afraid that I'd forget most of what had happened once I came down - that was definitely the uniting motif of the experiences with shrooms I'd had before that.
 
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