"Undermining my electoral viability since 2001."

Cleaning the Pipes

I've been staying over at Aaron's place cat sitting and sleeping here the past two nights because I work late and then don't feel like projing on home since it's below freezing, maybe snowing, etc. I've been watching some DVDs too, the first season of Lost, which is another example of the good episodic TV trend.

There was just this episode where the Bhudda-like old man (John Locke, ho ho ho) dosed up the preppie kid with some good old jungle yage and left him tied up in the woods to sort out his demons. This is principally what the show is about -- overcoming your past, your fears, etc, with slightly horrific overtones -- and it's a nice little episode; got me thinking about my own yen for a shamanistic trip from time to time.

It's really a shame that psychadellic drugs are on the wane. It's a shame these things are more easily available to teenagers and college kids and not to young adults. I think we can to a lot better than yayo for kicks in our age bracket, but the question of supply is more or less inscrutible.

I'm a firm believer in the virtue of the psychadellic experience. It can be a sort of psychic scouring, spiritual cleansing, and lately my chakras are feeling a little gummed up. It's not for everyone, but it's been a highly positive influence on my life. It's also been a while.

We ran into some mushrooms on the road this summer, scarfed them down in the misty mountain night of the Shanandoah, but for my part it was just goofy kicks, not enough active ingredients to really blast off. Plus the setting was a little inhibiting, what with all the familiy neighbors and all. "That's the mad cackle that keeps the kids awake." Heh-indeed.

LSD at the DNC was more kicks (and not a little bravado, I might add), and the same batch of Tennessee acid in higher dose at the OCF2004 was good, but somewhat short-circuted by having to deal with our midnight tiki-bar getting busted by security. I have to go back to Burning Man '03 for a really clear jolt of witch-doctoring caliber. Now, that's not the sort of experience you want to hit yourself with every weekend, but I think biannually is a decent frequency. This summer's trip to Black Rock didn't yield, but that's life. It'll happen when it happens. C'est la vie.