There was a period of my life after high school and before university. I was living with my mom spending time between bad jobs and junior college.
During this time I used to walk over to the well manicured landscaping and spanish architecture of a catholic university a few blocks away.
I'd go out to a field at the end of campus that had a good view. There were warehouses directly below, a freeway interchange further off. You could see downtown, planes from the airport, the beach and the ocean off in the distance.
It was a place to get perspective to see all the people rushing around like ants in the foreground of the sun, the clouds and the ocean. It was peaceful. For many years it was a place to get away from it all. I liked to brood and ponder here away from everyone else.
Sometimes I'd make my way through a canyon to a secluded smoke-out perch, sit next to a cactus and smoke pot.
I liked to slink around the train tracks near the warehouses at the bottom of the hill. I'd make my way to a strip club. It was an exciting and sleazy place to be. I'd ogle, drift off into a fantasy listening to the stripper music.
Sometimes I'd drive my car over and sit in a remote parking lot at the campus and smoke clove cigarettes. I'd do that with the intention just to sit, smoke and ponder,
To feel the apprehension and dread of the day and somehow try and make sense of it or something.
Cloves were just really appropriate for this for some reason.
The best clove smoking brooding experience I had was down in my room late at night lights off except for the blue glow of the stereo and outside moonlight. Being near the bottom of the house I was lucky too be able to play music fairly loudly.
Some of the best brooding music was New Order early stuff (first three albums and Peel sessions).
In particular the first few songs on Substance disk #2 really got to me. I'd get goose bumps and go into a kind of clove induced trance.
It made me really emotional in a strange way.
And I'm sitting here right now late at night, lights off and the same music on.
There is no end to this
I can't turn away
Another picture but the scene
It's still the same
There is no room to move
Or try to look away
Remember, life is strange
The life keeps getting stranger every day
Well, what can you say?
Life is great.
You get an experience, and it doesn't even end.
Every moment -- consciousness and time.
Savor the pain of life.
Take a swig from that bitter cup and cherish.
Spirits in theater.
Dwellers in the manure of this experience
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watching the numbers of the digital clock
change one by one
green and purple harlequin night
of batwing cyclone
listening to leonard cohen singing
true love leaves no traces
my psychedelic peak state waning
until morning when i must once more
assume the body of flesh