Every movie should have the same ending credits as Tombstone, with Sam Elliott, Kurt Russel, Val Kilmer, and Bill Paxton all slowly walking towards you giving you menacing stares as the credits roll. Even children's cartoons and romantic comedies. This is yet another reason why the MPAA should give me Jack Valenti's job.
I have to quit smoking weed pretty soon. I'm rapidly approaching my next (last!) probation appointment, and I want to be as sure as possible that I won't get tripped up at the finish line. So Plan A: quit, just in case I'm tested. There is (of course) a Plan B, also in effect, but it's more of a failsafe than an actual replacement for Plan A, which needs to commence in the next few days.
". . . .Let it be well understood then, by worldly and ignorant folk, curious of acquaintance with exceptional joys, that they will find in hashish nothing miraculous, absolutely nothing but the natural in a superabundant degree. The brain and the organism upon which hashish operates will only give their ordinary and individual phenomena, magnified, it is true, both in quantity and quality, but always faithful to their origin." -Charles Baudelaire
One time my mom asked me why I liked to smoke pot and I told her, "If I didn't, I would kill people everyday." Although I think that statement had more to do with my job at the time, the basic sentiment still holds true. Everyone has a preferred way to get their subjective chemical reward from their brain, whether it's sports, or sex, or love, or gambling, or fighting, or art, or drugs, or maybe you're one of the lucky people who can get consistantly high on life. Well, like I once heard someone say, "I was high on life for years, but eventually, I built up a tolerance."
"Tobacco, coffee, alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions; the surest poison is time." -Ralph Waldo Emerson
But any chemical you put in your brain on a regular basis is going to have an effect on your brain when it ceases to be there at all, and THC is no different. I tend to notice the three I's: Insomnia, Indigestion, and Irritability. I just end up not sleeping at all for a day or two; my brain, without the constant rhythm of replacable thoughts wheeling through it, seizes on the filmstrip, grinding out my stream of consciousness like a paper shredder. Eventually the speeds adjust, but for a while, it's like I'm psychic and channeling the general frequency of the entire world and I can't turn it off, all the radio stations at once with nothing to focus on.
Even if I'm probably self medicating some gestating mental disease, or playing my sanity like a ukulele, the process is worthwhile to me for at least two reasons: I end up with some kind of amazingly complicated and personal artwork or writing (or, uh "anecdote") out of it, and for about a week, I have dreams that could've killed Shakespeare. I'm talking "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" scale. Not always bad, though, sometimes pretty rad, in fact, but so fucking intense with drama and fear and surprise and mystery guests and suspense and thrills and chills and every damn thing else. I used to get them more when I was a kid, especially when I was sick, but lately I only get the really severe ones when I go cold turkey on substances.
So my tolerance must be already shot to shit, because as of last night the dreams already kicked back in.
Here's to perception, imagined or otherwise.
Question: What's the weirdest dream you've had that you can remember?
I have to quit smoking weed pretty soon. I'm rapidly approaching my next (last!) probation appointment, and I want to be as sure as possible that I won't get tripped up at the finish line. So Plan A: quit, just in case I'm tested. There is (of course) a Plan B, also in effect, but it's more of a failsafe than an actual replacement for Plan A, which needs to commence in the next few days.
". . . .Let it be well understood then, by worldly and ignorant folk, curious of acquaintance with exceptional joys, that they will find in hashish nothing miraculous, absolutely nothing but the natural in a superabundant degree. The brain and the organism upon which hashish operates will only give their ordinary and individual phenomena, magnified, it is true, both in quantity and quality, but always faithful to their origin." -Charles Baudelaire
One time my mom asked me why I liked to smoke pot and I told her, "If I didn't, I would kill people everyday." Although I think that statement had more to do with my job at the time, the basic sentiment still holds true. Everyone has a preferred way to get their subjective chemical reward from their brain, whether it's sports, or sex, or love, or gambling, or fighting, or art, or drugs, or maybe you're one of the lucky people who can get consistantly high on life. Well, like I once heard someone say, "I was high on life for years, but eventually, I built up a tolerance."
"Tobacco, coffee, alcohol, hashish, prussic acid, strychnine, are weak dilutions; the surest poison is time." -Ralph Waldo Emerson
But any chemical you put in your brain on a regular basis is going to have an effect on your brain when it ceases to be there at all, and THC is no different. I tend to notice the three I's: Insomnia, Indigestion, and Irritability. I just end up not sleeping at all for a day or two; my brain, without the constant rhythm of replacable thoughts wheeling through it, seizes on the filmstrip, grinding out my stream of consciousness like a paper shredder. Eventually the speeds adjust, but for a while, it's like I'm psychic and channeling the general frequency of the entire world and I can't turn it off, all the radio stations at once with nothing to focus on.
Even if I'm probably self medicating some gestating mental disease, or playing my sanity like a ukulele, the process is worthwhile to me for at least two reasons: I end up with some kind of amazingly complicated and personal artwork or writing (or, uh "anecdote") out of it, and for about a week, I have dreams that could've killed Shakespeare. I'm talking "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn" scale. Not always bad, though, sometimes pretty rad, in fact, but so fucking intense with drama and fear and surprise and mystery guests and suspense and thrills and chills and every damn thing else. I used to get them more when I was a kid, especially when I was sick, but lately I only get the really severe ones when I go cold turkey on substances.
So my tolerance must be already shot to shit, because as of last night the dreams already kicked back in.
Here's to perception, imagined or otherwise.
Question: What's the weirdest dream you've had that you can remember?
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And
I don't know. I've had too many weird dreams.
I had a really bizarre one recently where TheAngus had gotten this new form of body modification where they remove one of your eyes because it went along with his identity as being called One in his band Binary. And he stored song lyrics in the empty eye socket. It was cool.