FIVE DOZEN EGGS

Before I write my article for trip week (which has probably been going on for like 5.3 days), I thought I'd share a 25 second video that will inspire you to make an omelet.

Dog Porn

First up...  For a new segment I'm doing called RAPE DICTIONARY WORD OF THE DAY, I will define a word in its direct context pertaining to my life.

PRETENTIOUS: This blog.

Next up, we have, ironically, reader requested, comma spliced, DOG PORN.

If you can make it through this video without pausing or exiting your browser, you are either brave, or fucked in the head. 

Pomeranian in Tokyo

After the horrible experience he had in Russia, the Pomeranian needed to get some rec time.  What better a place than good ol' Tokyo?

Sensory Deprivation

Here's a tasty treat:  This is the first trip for trip week I'll post that doesn't involve brain damage.  That's right.  You heard me.  This is absolutely harmless and safe and totally awesome.

SENSORY DEPRIVATION

(a tit-head's reference guide)

What you'll need for this adventure:

• A pair of headphones (preferably sound-canceling)
• An MP3 player of some sort 
• White noise music files
• A blindfold
• A place with no light whatsoever (dark bathroom, closet, etc...)

STEP ONE:  Go into your dark place with your supplies.  For those that are scared of the dark...  Go cry to your mommy and grow some testiclites.  This journey is not for the weak-minded, because you may hear or see things when you're doing this.

STEP TWO:  Put your headphones in and the blindfold on, and take some deep breaths to calm yourself for the ride ahead.

STEP THREE:  Turn the music on, wait until the lighted screen from your music player turns off, and then try as best as you can to clear your mind.

If you can stop your thoughts for a long enough period (it won't really be that hard to shut down for two minutes at least), all you have to do is wait for the images or sounds to come on.  Some people won't be affected, and others will hallucinate their asses off.  If it does work, you will have visions of random things, maybe hear voices or ethereal sounds, and possibly feel physical sensations you wouldn't normally.  If you're having trouble hallucinating, you can try a different white noise file.

Oh, and if you're having difficulty finding appropriate files...  I, uh...  Found a reputable site for acquiring such things: Reputable Site.  In order of recommendation, I would say: Nitrous (best - really fucking intense), Hand of God (OMFG), Out of Body, and uh... Orgasm (if you catch my drift).

I would finally like to turn you on to a movie about sensory deprivation.  It's kind of an oldie, but if you're into psychedelic adventures, there's nothing like watching some guy turn into an ape, and then a giant morphing mass of radioactivity while on hallucinogenic mushrooms.  It's called Altered States.

The Pomeranian Hits Russia

Someone voted in that poll thing for the Pomeranian to go to Russia.  I can't let my fans down.  Not now at this crucial day and age.  Here we go:

How To Make Yourself Pass Out

It's still trip week, and I had a revelation.  Everything I've been posting is about tripping out on legal drugs, but I neglected to realize that you don't always need drugs to have a crazy trip.  Sometimes, all you need is some tom foolery and some bravery.

Make Yourself Pass Out

Step One

STEP ONE:  Find a comfortable spot to fall onto when you lose consciousness.

Step Two

STEP TWO:  Make sure you have a friend handy to make sure that you don't fall forward and hurt yourself.  I once did this on my own and instead of falling forward onto my couch, I feel back and hit my head on a metal lamp post.  I woke up seizuring.





STEP THREE:  Bend down and put your head between your legs and take deep, quick breaths (hyperventilate) for about thirty seconds.  This causes an overflow of oxygen to your brain.

STEP FOUR:  Stand up quickly, put your thumb in your mouth, and blow on it as hard as you can without letting any air out.  Do not stop until you lose consciousness, which will happen if you don't get scared and give up.

Step Four

STEP FIVE:  Pass out.

Step Five

!WARNING! - This will cause brain damage.  You are cutting off oxygen's flow to your brain for a short period.  It won't kill you, but it will probably fry you a bit.

Personal Experience

• I did this once at my friend's house, and I didn't fully pass out.  I fell on my knees, and I felt like lightning was running through my body and into my teeth.  I got a mental picture of myself made of thunder, and strange blue bolts going through my body.
• I did this in my room, and when I came to, I thought my whole life until that point had been a cruel dream, and that I had been given a new chance to start over.

It's weird.  You're just standing there, breathing on your thumb, and then you wake up somewhere completely different.

Here's a video of a kid doing it:

Pomeranians

My new favorite classification of dog is the majestic Pomeranian. They're powerful, fearless, loving, and capable of flight.  Here are some reasons justifying my previous statements:

Powerful

I mean, you can't deny that that's total proof that the Pomeranian is the ultimate breed.  They can fucking breathe fire.  Do you think I would post something ludicrous on here like an image edited to look like a fire-breathing Pomeranian?  Are you stupid?

More Proof:

Fearless

Loving

 

 

And don't forget:

That pretty much says it all.  Bottom line:  The Pomeranian is a hardy breed.  They will outlast mankind.

How to trip on: Diphenhydramine

Time for a trip week update.  Once again, let's get some fucking MEDUCATION!

Most people are aware that Benadryl is an over the counter drug used to treat allergy symptoms.  It is classified as a first-generation antihistamine, which means it works in different areas of the brain other than those that generate histamines (which are weird shit-fuckers that give you allergy symptoms).  First-generation antihistamines are also known for causing sleepiness, which is why some people take Benadryl to sleep at night.

What people might not know is that the active ingredient in Benadryl is called diphenhydramine, which acts a delirient when taken in high doses.  I told you that nutmeg is a delirient, but its effects are definitely less-powerful than diphenhydramine's.

How to have a Benadryl trip

STEP ONE:  Acquire at least 400mgs of pills that contain diphenhydramine (Benadryl pills generally come in 25mg increments, so you'll want at least 16).  You should avoid any pill that contains another drug than diphenhydramine, because overdosing on other drugs can cause much more dangerous symptoms than delirium.

STEP TWO:  Remove pills from packaging and swallow them all.  It's dangerous to take dosages greater than 600mgs, especially if you don't have a tolerance to such things.  If you are in any way weak-stomached, do not do this.  So, at most, (at least for your first time) take 24 pills.  Otherwise, you might end up dead or in an ambulance choking on charcoal.

STEP THREE:  Wait an hour to two hours for the effects to come on.

DESCRIPTION:  At first, you will feel like you have less gravity.  When you stand up, you will feel like you're floating off your chair.  Then, things start to change.  Your lampshades will spin around, your lightswitches will flip up and down, and objects in pictures might move around, the people might wink or wave to you.  Then, things get a little more serious.  You'll be intensely drowsy, and want to sleep, but if you do, you'll basically be getting brain and liver damage for no reason.  You'll start seeing things that aren't there, but the first hallucinations will be silhouettes that look like objects walking or moving around but transparent ones.  It looks like the predator does when it turns invisible in the Schwarzenegger movie.  After a while, you will see things completely in color, and these things might interact with you, such as a fake person talking to you that isn't there.  You'll feel sensations that aren't happening, like someone grabbing your shoulder or little bugs crawling on you.  You will hear voices or music that isn't real.  The strangest part of the experience is that you will, during your trip, completely believe that everything happening is completely real.  That's why it's almost imperative to have a trip sitter.

I honestly don't recommend anyone to do this.  But it's trip week, and I'm trying to be a guru.

---

My Experience

It was the second time I ever tried the stuff.  I took 600mgs, and I sat down in my room to wait for the effects to come on.  I remember, as a half hour passed, standing up and feeling so bubbly that I wanted to get back into my chair.  So I did.  At this point I was so drowsy that I wanted to just shut my eyes and disappear, but I knew that that was out of the question.  I forced my eyes open, and turned them to the pure-white wall across the room.  I stared a few seconds, and this weird alien made of polkadots appeared across from a pong paddle, and they were both moving up and down the wall playing pong.  I looked to my left to see a gorilla made of rainbow rods climb up the wall, being pursued by small, purple soldiers that seemed eager to capture the thing.  That all disappeared quite quickly.  I remember sitting there, and hearing, "the universe is a part of you, and I think, if you try hard enough, you can become a part of it."  I said "what?" but the voice never responded.  I stood up and went over to sit on my bed.  When I closed my eyes, I was on a TV sitcom, and I was holding a briefcase, walking into a homey environment.  I opened my eyes, and it all vanished, and I remember saying, "keep going into TV shows.  Must stay here."  I walked over to my mirror after that, and my reflection started morphing into a goblin-like creature.  I just stared at it for a moment, and then it reached through, grabbed me, and pulled me into the other side.  I was definitely blacked out after that, because the next thing I remember is waking up outside by my trash can, vomiting profusely.

The moral?  Don't do Benadryl.  Yeah...  The contradiction is savory.

Weird Shit

I had the strangest dream last night.  I was in this car with a bunch of people who were going to buy weed, and we were in the most ghetto place I've ever seen.  It was weird, because the town was perfectly clean and normal until we turned a corner into this filthy beast of a street.  We pulled up to this garage that was surrounded by crack addicts and horny black women, and my two confidants got out of the car, went inside, and returned with an ounce.  After that, we drove around more, smoking the dope.  We eventually returned to the garage, and they did another deal.  I was like... "I'm having deja vu, guys."

After that it all goes black, and I remember sitting in this huge house next to my girlfriend who was taking hits out of this giant smoking device.  It looked like a water pitcher that was turned on its side, and you had to open your mouth hugely wide to make it airtight.  I decided to hit it (it was filled with resin) and when I started pulling on it, a smoke cyclone appeared inside and went straight for my brain.  I wandered around the rest of the dream, trying to understand why I wasn't high.  I never seem to get high in my dreams when I smoke weed; shouldn't my mind be emulating the trip?

Nutmeg

Nutmeg - Seasonal Spice or Major Trip?

This is the second post of trip week.  It's time for some MEDUCATION!

---

Nutmeg is commonly used as a seasoning on many different culinary products.  It's mainly used as a little "touch of flavor" when you need to spice up a dish.  What people might not know is that nutmeg contains myristicin, which is a delirient.  You can find that information directly on wikipedia, but I know these things from experience; don't judge.  Ipso facto, if you can stomach consuming about two tablespoons of natural, unprocessed nutmeg, you will experience a potent high characterized by hallucinations, confusion, and euphoria.  Nutmeg differs from other drugs because, when taken orally, the high can last up to two or three days.  There are some negative side effects as well (tastes terrible going down, nausea, body aches), but I personally never encountered the latter two.  So, if you're ready, here's a guide on how to become one with the nut.  That just sounds bad.

STEP ONE
Acquire two tablespoons of nutmeg.  I hear getting the actual nuts and grinding them up produces the freshest and most pure form, but I bought mine at the local Real Food Store for $5 and it worked just fine.  Do NOT buy the little nutmeg containers from grocery stores.  It's not worth your while.

This is the bunk shit

STEP TWO
Consume the nutmeg.  I mixed mine with water and just drank it the first time I did it.  Terrible idea.  I puke whenever I taste nutmeg now.  I heard about people getting empty pill capsules and putting the 'meg into those, and I think that would be the easiest way to do it without that nasty flavor; that is, if you can manage to take 30 pills.

STEP THREE
Just wait.  It usually takes about five hours for the effects to come on.  I've heard of people taking it, then thinking it's not working and taking more, and ending up in the hospital.  Just wait your ass off, because double dosing on this shit is a very bad idea.  It comes on slow.

STEP FOUR
Trip balls.  And keep tripping for a long ass time.  You'll fall asleep completely stoned only to wake up the next day in the exact same state.  This is why you should make sure to have a few days cleared for this type of endeavor.  I never experienced it, but I hear there can be a very harsh hangover from this stuff.

---

MY NUTMEG TRIP

 

     I was a drug fiend in those days, and I was desperate to try a new high.  I didn't want to robo trip anymore, and benadryl was out of the question for me.  So, ever faithful, erowid pointed me in a new direction.  I skipped on over to the food store and stole (erm... bought) enough nutmeg to reach the stratosphere.  I brought the shit home and emptied the plastic bag container's contents onto my counter top.  I'd already formulated my plan hours ago:  I would fill a glass with water... and add nutmeg to it!  Brilliant!  So I did that, mixed it around, and I ended up with a globular concoction.  The brown spice seemed to form weird fuzzy bubbles in the water, and they murkily floated to the top and popped occasionally, dispersing vile gunk throughout the liquid.  I plugged my nose, took a few gulps, and gagged my way into the bathroom, cup still in hand.  My internal mantra was screaming, "fuck this!  Puke, for god's sake, Jake!  What's wrong with you!?"  But I held firm, and sloshed the rest down like a champion.
     Now it was time for the come-up.  I just couldn't contain my excitement.  I didn't know what to do while I waited, so I ended up sitting in bed for about four hours, just looking at the ceiling and listening to avant garde metal groups.  When I finally popped the headphones off and went over to my mirror, I knew something was going on.  My face was just different in some way, and I couldn't quite put my finger on it.  I must have stood there in front of that mirror for at least an hour, making faces like this:

By the time I realized what I was doing, it was already too late.  I was smashed and shattered.  I threw the ipod back on to some Neurosis with my bose sound-canceling headphones and biked through the streets, high as Edward Norton's kite.  The last thing I remember about that night is looking to my right as I passed a stop sign to see a carriage being pulled by an enormous tarantula.

What's the moral?  I don't know.  But listening to Through Silver in Blood on nutmeg was the scariest twelve minutes of my entire life.

I NOW DECLARE THIS WEEK - TRIP WEEK!

I've come to the conclusion that, in lieu of my lack of ideas, I'll have to fill the world with new ones.  Stories, mainly, about my usage of dangerous materials.  I will describe, in detail, my knowledge, experience, and knowledge of the dangerous drugs of America.  Due to some inspiring bastard I just learned about, I will start with Salvia Divinorum.

EXPERIENCE:

I was at a party with some of my close friends, and we were getting totally high the entire time.  We first went out on the patio and each smoked a bowl to ourselves out of this kid's giant, quadruple perk, other-stuff-tricked-out-masterpiece bong, and I was completely ripped seconds after taking the hit.  It was totally smooth, but hit me like a trucker's truck.  The night proceeded as planned, we all drank some vodka and smoked more bowls and blunts, but then bong boy had a revelation: "anyone want to smoke some salvia?"  I was all over that shit.  We went downstairs and he loaded a large bowl of the stuff in his bubbler.  I took a huge hit, held it for as long as I could, and then let it all go.  My friends were all sitting on the bed next to me, watching.  I felt this horrible sensation; it was like my skin was wet, and trying to pull itself off of my body.  That subsided quickly though, because all of a sudden my companions started becoming mirror images on the other side of the room and encircling me, pulling me underneath some sort of ethereal carpet.  Their smiles frightened me because they began to look evil and taunting, and I thought they were going to kill me, or force me to leave the Earth.  All I could say was, "holy shit.  Holy shit.  Holy fuck."  They images started wrapping tighter around me for a while, until they completely engulfed me.  That's when I snapped back to reality.
For some reason, I decided that I hadn't had enough, so I smoked another, even larger hit.  I don't really remember what happened after that.  I only have a few images.  My salvia-supplying-buddy began to look like a cross between an elephant and an egyptian cat, and my other associate became a pyramid-like creature with large teeth.  The next thing I remember is coming to on the bed and staring across the room at the only girl at the party.  Her boyfriend sat next to me, laughing.  I still don't know if I'm still salvia tripping or not, because I honestly felt, when I came down, that I was in a new dimension.  Like I'd left and am never going to come back to the world I was in before.  Maybe it's the hallucinogen's influence on me.  Or maybe I'm just insane.  But there's this nagging feeling deep down inside me that some day (maybe the day I die) I will return to that room, my true reality, and everything I've been experiencing since that day has been a prolonged lifetime generated by the drug.  I've heard similar stories.  That's what scares the shit out of me.

Later my friends told me that I spent the majority of that second trip walking around the room saying "I don't know what's going on" repeatedly.  One of them said I fell on him, but he wasn't willing to divulge the full details.  I still don't know why.

I Gotta Stop Using This Fucker

I've been trying to stay away from weed recently because I have these intense anxiety attacks when I smoke it; my heart literally pounds out of chest, and it hurts like a tit-wipe.  Well...  I love my cigarette filter.  It's incredible.  Makes me feel like the great Hunter T, and it turns my day upside down.  But I think there's still some resin left in it, because after I smoke a smoke out of it, I feel a little nur nurrish.

Nur.  Nurrrrr.....

My First Day at the Office

Today was my first day of freelance employment for a local temp agency.  The assignment I was given was simple - go to x location and copy y amount of documents for a private client.  Seemed pretty standard.  The secretary on the job showed me the copier and how to properly use it.  There were about eight large stacks of documents and strange files that I was to copy through the machine.  It seemed like it was going to be a fairly easy task.  I basically was going to sit in a corner near this machine until all 1500 pages were processed.

My first issue came up when I put the papers in the wrong side up.  I "copied" about 50 before I actually looked at the output; they were all fucking blank.  Not a big problem, but when I told the lady what happened she seemed quite perturbed.  She had to take down how many I miscopied and subtract it from my total copy score for the end of the day.  I was relieved when she told me everything was fine.  Then, I started putting more into the machine, and, without thinking, I did it wrong again.  More blanks.  She came back, did the same process, and scowled heavily.  I began again, and only caught myself after I put another paper in; another mark off the copy count.  I was tripping out hard at this point about my failures, and decided not to tell her about it.

I finished my first stack after that, finally catching on about which side to put upward (god, I'm lacking brain cells).  When I was about halfway through the second stack, the machine jammed.  She came back, showed me how to fix it, and took her seat again across the way.  This is when things got a tad hairy.  Somehow, during the jam, I lost count or something, and all these files started getting mixed up.  I attempted to fix it by comparing my copies to the original, but things got more and more out of control, until I was on the verge of a total nuclear freak out.  I told her I was going to take a break, and went out and smoked a cigarette, choking down bile and feces.  When I got back inside, I fixed things up, showing the ladies what I'd done wrong; they spent about half an hour fixing my mistake while I sat in the corner and grimaced through copies.

It took me six hours in total to finish a job that the employer said would only span two, so... I feel like a winner for getting paid more.   Even if I suck at what I do.

Gotta have some fun while being insanely embarrassed, right?

Commentary on Trees

On this grim day of March 23rd, 2011, I have successfully come to numerous mindbending conclusions about society.  There are strange things happening all around us, and I was one to bear witness to them; what I encountered shocked me to my very core.

At first I was all...

But then...

But I still came.  The encounter with the TourettesTree was terrible.  Never before in my life had I realized that trees could have genders and personalities.  So I got in tune with nature, and learned some valuable lessons about being friends with the forest.

I Named Him Optimus Prime

Me and Optimus chilled for a while, but I got bored being a good samaritan and went home to find that my tree planting efforts had come to fruition.  That's right...  My cigarette tree had finally produced its fruit.

The Cigarette Tree

---

Cigarette Tree,

oh, cigarette tree,

thank god for thee.

You answered my plea,

and have given me,

a lot of damn smokes.

Until next time.  Jake signing off.

I Never Thought I'd Break All The Dish With My Hand

Trippy Shit

The votes are in, and it looks like I'm going to have to do a tree segment, but I just wouldn't feel right not posting something at 4 in the morning.  I have to wait until tomorrow to get the tree pictures anyway.  REGARDLESS! - I absolutely love shit like this.  It's just... scary, but in a mind-bending way; I went on newgrounds looking for something exactly like this, and the keyword "lsd" brought it right up.  Thank god for psychotic people who are willing to experiment with DMT and have a knowledge of flash video animation.  Watch the video.

I just had to add one more...

Most people don't know anything about Dog Fashion Disco, but basically they're a highly original band that tend to mix metal, country, jazz, and techno (among some unmentioned other genres) to create something completely their own.
I've only tried to drop acid once, and it was some bunk, unfortunately.  But I hope that if I ever do experiment with lysergic chemicals, my trip won't be anything like this.

Spliff + NOS + Melatonin

I can't seem to stop writing about drugs, but all these memories have started to rush back to me ever since I became sober (9 days and counting - not much, but whatever).

Alright, now here's the deal.  Say, for example, you're having a bad day.  Well, there's a quick fix to it, and I'm here to tell you about it.  You'll need a few things:

• 1 x Cigarette

• .5 grams Marijuana (approximately half a decent bowl, for those not experienced in the metric system)

• 1 x NOS Energy Drink

• 6mg Melatonin

It's pretty damn simple.  You combine the pot and the cigarette, successfully creating a highly addictive spliff.  Then, when you're done with that shit, you wash the melatonin down with your nos, making absolutely certain that you finish the drink in under 15 minutes.  Finally, wait 15 minutes for the melatonin and stimulation from the drink to hit, and then... light the spliff up.  Once you're done smoking the fucker it will all smash into you so hard that you won't even realize where you are.  Proof:

There's me with my spliff and NOS (you can tell that I'm already melatonining up because of the glassy eyes).  The signature tie-off with the cig is a trademark of my spliff-making technologies.  Now, you might be thinking - what the fuck?  Isn't this kid going to kill himself?  The answer I would give you is, "probably.  Bitch."  I still don't remember where I was when I took this.  All I know is that I sent the pic to my girlfriend before disappearing into the night.  I eventually came to in the high school parking lot, laughing hysterically and pounding the ground with my fist.

As Lil' John might say, "you scared!  You scared!"  But I'm not scared.  Not at all.  I mean, they can't pin anything on me for posting questionable drug pictures online unless they have specific evidence, right?  Who are "they" anyway?  I don't know.  And I sure as hell don't want to find out.



One more, unrelated thing:  I would very much like to see some hate mail going to my email address:  jakethewriteman@gmail.com  -  If you ever need to vent, want someone to tell how shitty your life is, want to tell someone how shitty their writing is, I am always available.  Also, I have a wealth of knowledge about pokemon, Hunter S. Thompson, movies, and music.  I'm a libra, and I enjoy long walks on the beach.  Totally available, ladies ;)

Once Upon a Parking Lot

     I'd gotten out of school, and, walking up the large school staircase, I encountered my acquaintance (soon to be close friend) Gabe.  Out of the blue, he asked me if I did drugs, and I answered with a resounding, "yes!"  He told me he had to go back to his apartment for a while to check in with his parents, and asked me to do him a favor.  An inhalant favor.
     I rode my bike to the town Walmart, and began my search for a can of air duster.  I had never seen one before, and mistakenly took a bottle of spray paint outside.  I called him up, told him the name of the product, and he said "no, that won't do.  The can is white, with four different colors on it and blatantly says air duster.  You can't miss it.  Has a straw attached and everything."  That was pretty plain English to me.  I made my way into the store, pocketed it (not proud of that) and left without paying; damn, I'm a greasy freak.  I met him in the mall parking lot, and, although I was sketched about trying the stuff and worried that people would see me, he assured me that not only was it legal, but it was also awesome as hell.
     "Well, why not?" I said.  "I mean, if a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right.  This is the American Dream in action."  I hit the can, everything got swirly, and the whole world seemed to go numb and bend to my euphoric will.  He snatched it up, took three or four long hits, and breathed out a low-voiced, "duuuuuuuudddeeee, everything looks like final fantasy right now."  I never hallucinated from the stuff to that degree, but I did see little people walking around the cars in the lot, and heard that familiar whomp-whomp-whomp sound.  As I continued inhaling, this weird song started going through my head that went something like "oh-eeh-eeh-hah-eeh-oh-hah."  That was entertaining.  Then, something hit me like a can of tuna and bricks - I was being watched.  Maybe I was just paranoid, but the people pulling into the parking lot must have assuredly saw us both, just lying on the ground, taking in copious amounts of lung-bleeding air.
     "We have to get out here, man.  They're watching us," I said, scratching at my bug-filled skin.  He assented, and we both made our way to a walled-in area near a local hotel.  We were near what I assumed was a dumpster, still putting holes in our brains.  I took the can, held it sideways, and, to my dismay, it iced on me.  Nasty white-blue fluid slushed into my mouth; it was the worst taste I've ever experienced.  I started feeling nauseous, and opened the "dumpster" in case of vomit.  It was not a dumpster.  It was a grease vat.  That was it, my dear friends; I contributed my stomach's contents to that vat, and slumped over on the ground, still tripping like a mammoth.
     "I've gotta go, man," I said, idiotically stuffing the dust-can into my backpack and mounting my bike.  "I'll be late if I don't."  Late for what, I'm still not quite sure, but I was absolutely certain that I would be judged in Perdition if I didn't retreat.  The ride was a great sojourn across town, at least three miles of hilly landscape that tested my stoned out will.  It was painful, but I made it home, collapsing on my apartment bed.  I didn't think I'd ever come down from this, and I felt just plain stupid - I literally couldn't think.  And the idea terrified me.  That didn't stop me from doing the stuff repeatedly until I fell into a forced coma, however.
     The hangover from the dust isn't pleasant.  You can't concentrate, and you feel like a total zombie; complete lack of control.  I still don't know what parts of my brain I deleted in these depths of insanity.  I really shouldn't, though.  I mean... those cells are fucking gone, right?

Clean Safe? What an ironic name...

A Real Robo Trip

Someone voted in that poll thing to see a real life story.  Here's one that I hold dear to my heart.

As I flipped through the pages of my dream journal, I could not help but laugh when I saw this trip log.  I remember the experience vividly, because it was quite influential.  I've long since given up drinking copious amounts of cough syrup to get high, but I look back on those memories fondly.  You get decent rewards in return for your trashed brain cells; of that, I am certain.  Here it is in unaltered format:

April 29th-30th, 2010

11:00 PM - 10 Hits Cannabis - Dosed
2:23 AM - Moderately high from weed.
                  Dosed - 4 oz. Adult Robitussin
                  I think this trip is going to be nuts
2:44 AM - Dosed - 2oz. Robitussin
                 I'm afraid 6 oz. is too far, but I'll see
3:17 AM - I can see trails from my hands for two seconds after they were there
3:27 AM - Everything is shimmering
3:43 AM - Things are shaking and I can see the veil.
4:13 AM - My voice seems displaced from my body.  And before I see anything there is a definite afterward.
4:18 AM - Being better than someone at math means they're worse than you.
4:20 AM - Hay bay
4:39 AM - I Just tried to play mario kart, and I got the wrong kart and went in the wrong direction
4:55 AM - Real life isn't a game
5:02 AM - What little screw in my brain cracked that made me the way I am?
5:04 AM - I was just engulfed by my blanket
5:09 AM - I have never felt better in my entire life
5:21 AM - Salad fingers scared the shit out of me.  Life is awesome.  I feel like a bucket.

I think there's some real insight in this.  Some really good shit.  This is what happens when you give a pseudo-novelist/computer programmer heavy drugs.  I wrote "dosed" when I was talking about taking drugs, because I was absolutely obsessed with writing trip reports at the time.  I got my inspiration from erowid, and I partially blame that site for my descent into drug-induced madness.  I was experimenting (read: slaughtering my brain) with dextromethorphan (Robitussin) and diphenhydramine (Benadryl) at the time.  If you don't know, dex gives you a powerful dissociate trip comparable to PCP, and Benadryl just makes you hallucinate like a psycho, seeing, hearing, and feeling things that aren't there; it's been referred to as "schizophrenia in a pill."  Sounds absolutely enticing, wouldn't you say!?

I'm glad to say that I don't damage my mind and body with such things anymore.  I can't take those trips back, and I'm not sure that I would if given the opportunity (a blasphemous lie!).  I experienced things not of this dimension, and those experiences were life-changing.

Lucid Dreaming

I-Doser

I've tried to use I-Doser to have some effects, but I only found one of them to actually "work" and get me high.  It was the Nitrous sound, and after listening to it, the whole world was fucking spinning and I couldn't stop laughing.  But I did listen to the lucid dream one, and I can assure you, it's useless.

MAIN TOPIC!!!

I used to keep a dream journal, and I just found it.  I think I'm going to start writing in it again, because I would really enjoy some quality lucidity.  I find that when I journal each morning about what I dreamed (god, I hate that word - it sounds so fucking unnatural) my dream memory increases tenfold, and I end up being able to write page upon page of entries.  I've been telling my dreams as stories to people recently, and that's amplifying my memory, but not to the degree of the journal's abilities.

Here's one I just found:

April 9th, 2010

I was in some sort of pool lounge and I saw my Spanish teacher, Mrs. Sinnot.  I left, because I knew that I had to help her save her class from being shut down.  I told her I'd have a lucid dream to combat it.  I looked at my hand, and the "S" turned into a "C."  I was lucid!  I decided to fuck someone.  It turned out to be this hot girl Hannah that I'd known for a while, and it was awesome.  Then I did it again.  I decided to move on to something else, because I looked at a clock, and it told me I had ten minutes until six o' clock, when I'd wake up in real life.  I started looking for another girl, Sarah, to fuck her, but I couldn't find her.  [I believe this is where I lost lucidity.]  Apparently, during sex, I'd ejaculated blood, and was asking my dad why that happened.  I started jumping around, and I couldn't leave the boundaries of a city (like in video games).  I was some RPG chick on a wolf.  Suddenly, I changed into an elf, and went off on some monologue about being the weakest of my clan.  I jumped down into a pit, and tons of platforms were down there.  Earlier, when I'd decided to fuck this cute chick I knew from school, a thought bubble came up, saying that she was on meth.  I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I have to admit it; I'm a fucking pervert.  Or, at least, I was.  Whenever I would get into a lucid dream, I would do one of three things:

• Have incredible sex with the hottest women ever
• Attempt to fly and utilize various superpowers
• Have sex with extremely attractive women

My most useful lucid dreaming technique came off the web, and it actually does work quite well.  If you write a letter on your hand (I usually write an "A" to stand for "Awake"), you might see it in your dream.  Whenever I see the letter in my dream, it tends to morph around, or it won't be the "A"; it will be something entirely different.  This almost always sends me straight into lucidity.

Or, you know, you could just smoke some melatonin, pass the hell out, and have a midnight trip.  The choice is yours.

Memories of Dreams Long Gone

I have never fully understood how dreams can contain things that have never and probably never will exist.

Example:

I had a dream once that I was in my room, and my friends came over to play some music for me.  One of them was a friend I have in real life who is quite talented with the guitar, but the other three were a singer, a bassist, and a drummer that I've never met, but the implication was that they were a band.  Somehow, they'd managed to squeeze a full band set of instruments into my room in about thirty seconds and start playing.

The song lyrics went:

"Oh, it's a maritime monday,
oh, sweet release,
oh, it's a maritime monday,
oh, I'll never be free."

Or something like that.  It was then that I looked at the wall, and there was a giant picture there of psychedelic, swirling colors that shifting around continuously.  That woke me up, because it was way too out there even for my twisted mind.  It was strange, because I normally have this picture on my wall:

 

The one on the left is the picture, and the one on the right is my cat.  Strangely similar.

Trip Log

I just found this trip log of when I was OD'ing on robitussin.  At the end, I was obviously so gone that I couldn't make sense, but I still managed to write the times at which I was logging.  Until the end, my handwriting was very legible, which confuses me, because a dissociate trip of this gravity makes even walking a difficult experience.

Read more >>

Lie, Lie, Lie

I don't know why the video says that the song is from Serj's new album, because it came out a very long time ago.  I remember watching this video at least three years ago.  But whatever.  It's some crazy animation.  I've always admired this art style, because it takes so much concentration and effort to make it flow smoothly.  But I'm not here to comment on that.  I think this song is about a jilted lover's revenge, and the terrible consequences of mad love.  That, or Serj Tankian is just out of his mind.  Either way, it's awesome as popsickles.

I was falling asleep last night, and for some reason, System of a Down's song "Toxicity" popped into my head.  I remembered the lyrics "eating seeds as a pastime activity/the toxicity/of our city/of our city" and a strange realization came to mind.  He's talking about fucking morning glories!  Tripping out!  Morning Glories.  Go to that site if you're interested, and scroll down to "experiences" to see just how acid-trip those things get you.

I have had multiple experiences with the seeds, myself.  Once I ate about 400, and I remember walking around town with my friend who had done the same.  We hadn't treated them to get rid of the toxins, so we were both suffering from nausea.  But that didn't make the experience any worse, really.  The ground was warping around, and the sky had these incredible amoebas floating around in it.  I thought they were just "floaters" that you normally see, but I now realize that those things don't normally talk to you.  It was that night that I watched Yellow Submarine for the first time, and I thought the people weren't making any sense at all.  It was all gibberish, but I'm so glad I watched it on those seeds; one of my best trip experiences ever.

I'm Jake Schwartz, and I approve Yellow Submarine.  As John Lennon might say:  "It's all in the mind."

St. Patty's Day Journey (Part two of two)

Arnold

If you didn't read it, here's Part One of the story.  It's an epic saga about the creation of my new friend and hopefully monetary gain, Arnold.

Read on >>

Death

We have something here with the heart,
its beat, living, crying like the child
with too many wounds below its belly.
Now there is no Lord above,
because midnight stuck two hours before,
and here lies death, death, nevermore.
Your life has ended, and blackness struck,
dividing your soul to two halves,
one for here, and one for somewhere.
All you know is something of dream,
and mistakes made are so far away,
nothing but slumber folding in.
"When will I awake?" said son to father.
The Old Man looked up from his readings,
and said, "if you die before you wake,
your life will forever be mine to take."

Shite!

Well, let's see here.  I'm sitting on a patio, smoking a cigarette right now.  I finally realized why Hunter S. Thompson always had his cigarettes in a little mouth piece thing; it's because the damn smoke rises into your face when you're trying to write.  It's a conundrum I'm currently facing, and it's devilish at best.  But that's not why I'm posting this, and it's certainly not why the post title is "shite."  It's because I couldn't muster the energy to write the damn saga I promised myself.  So, what now?  That's a good question.  I guess I'll start with a haiku.

We're looking down on Wayne's basement.
Only that's not Wayne's basement.
Isn't that weird?

St. Patty's Day Journey (Part one of two)

This is part one of a two part project about how I created my new friend, Arnold.  It's an incredibly journey that I took over the course of a mere sixty five days (read: three hours) that resulted in something spectacular that I think everyone on Earth should witness.  It includes detailed explanations and pictures :D

Read the article >>

Dream Concepts

Dream Repetition:
I've had this occurrence more than once, and it's quite perplexing.  I'll think I'm waking up in my bed, go do something, and then wake back up in my bed.  Because I realize that I was dreaming before I got back to my bed, I go repeat the same action, and I, to my surprise, wake up again in my bed.  It's like a time loop or something.  It's not infinite, and usually only lasts for three to four times before I actually wake up.  But it's strange nevertheless.  Example:  I woke up in my bed, and went to grab my cell phone like I usually do when I wake up.  I picked it up, looked at it, and noticed that the cell phone was still on the nightstand, but also in my hand.  Shocked, I woke up again.  This repeated about six times, and then I finally got to look at the real cell phone.

False Reality Check:
I'll be dreaming, and something completely strange will happen that makes me question my reality.  At first, I'll consider what's happening, and think, "is this a dream?"  Even though this situation is the key to going into a lucid dream, I usually come to the conclusion that I'm not dreaming, and reckon it to be my real life.  It's usually a very depressing dream when I'm not able to break free of the hallucinogenic spell of dreaming, so I can convince myself it's real because I just want it to be a dream to escape the terrible realities of it all.  Example:  I was walking through a street, and I got a call from my mother, telling me that my girlfriend had died.  She called my girlfriend Cindy.  I was horribly broken up about it.  I then realized that I don't have a girlfriend named Cindy, and was confused, but, through my sadness, I was able to tell myself to 'hold it together' and keep moving on.

Dreamer's Paradox:
Sometimes, I'll be dreaming, and I'll tell someone in my dream a story of the dream I've been having.  Not just recounting the past experiences of the dream, but actually telling the person what I'm telling them is a dream I've had.  It's like I think I'm awake now, and everything that had happened before was complete falsity, all coming together to build up my story.  Example:  I was talking to my friend Michael about a dream I'd had about owning a fast food restaurant.  He was totally agreeing with me that it was a strange dream, and that he hadn't slept at all the night before.  Just normal smalltalk.  Weird.

These terms are just theories of mine, but I've seen these trends multiple times and I'm going to go through my dream log later and post some more examples or more ideas.

Life and other bullshit

I can't sleep.  All these thoughts keep swirling around and there's nothing I can do except watch them and watch myself act when I realize that I have no conscious control over it anymore.  Even as I'm writing this, I sit there and watch my fingers rapidly flick over the keys and hope, pray, jettison that I'm not making typos.  I guess I'll go back over them later anyway.  It's weird, though.  I feel like I'm not sober, but I've been sober for so long.  I'm utterly scared of getting fucked up, now.  It's a pain enough to go through the day without putting that extra stress of hallucinogenic experiences on my mind.  No, not any of that for me.  Instead, I'll plod away, clutch my crystal close to my heart, and wish that something will break and my mind will fly free of this mortal realm into the dream world where I truly belong.  But it's so hard to get there and stay there.  I was dreaming about taking a test in Canada on a computer, and when I finished, the computer opened up and spat out $20 in four five dollar bills.  Now, if that isn't syntactically confusing, I don't know what is.  But that's not the point.  The point is that, in the dream, after the money incident, the computer began giving me commands in Japanese.  The others around the store I was in (I was in some sort of strange convenience store with computers stationed around the place) knew exactly what the computer was talking about, and apparently it was humorous, because they started laughing at the Japanese jokes the computer was making.  I was confounded.  Absolutely stumped.  Maybe that's the point.  You're not supposed to go through life knowing everything.  I sure as hell don't know any Japanese.  That's what's always tickled me; do your dreams emulate things you don't comprehend, or is there some sort of cosmic storage that your brain taps into while you sleep and steals information from?  I mean, is my mind seriously powerful enough to make a computer "sound" like it's speaking a language I don't know?  That doesn't make much sense to me.  It's either a collection of ideas that I have about Japanese spoken syntax, or... or there's some serious shit going on here.  It's my life goal to understand what dimethyltryptamine does to the brain.  That, and how hallucinations take the form of things you've never really seen.  I mean, the mind has the ability to perceive any physical object, so I believe that a hallucination is just a randomized combination of your brain's sensory abilities, but that's just a guess from someone uneducated in these fields.  The real answers to my questions are out there, though, and I'm sure someone on this Earth could explain, in detail, them things to me.  But until that day happens, I will voraciously pursue those goals.

Blue Eyes

Listen to this:

Read this whilst listening:

     A small boy ran, frothing at the lips, across a busy street.  His face was covered in mud and excrement, and his azure eyes reflected deep pools of immense sorrow.  His story was his own, and his life was coming to an end, for as he raced off toward his goal at the other side, he was met with the fender of a racing taxi whose driver mindlessly plugged away at his cell phone.  There was no scream, only a small thud as the boy's brains escaped his skull onto the pavement.  Before his soul departed and rushed off toward that deep, dark oblivion of death, those blue eyes popped out and saw the air like never before.  The driver just sat there, dazed, watching his whole life as he knew it come to an end.
     The boy's name was Nathan, and he had been beaten daily by an abusive foster mother.  Her eyes were opposite his, a dark blue of hatred that saw nothing but murky water and the soft lullaby of the drink.  She meant no harm, but in her eyes he was disobedient, shirking his chores to join the other boys in the street and their games.  Despite the physical pain, he was just happy to be outside of that dreary orphanage he'd known since birth.  Mother meant no wrong, he'd surmise.  She was just lost and unhappy that daddy had left with the maid, that ebony woman with the long hair and teeth.  All in all, he had everything he needed.  But there was one thing mother couldn't give him.  It was that blue bicycle he'd always wanted, the one the other kids had and took turns riding through those puddles they pushed him into.  Terrible, he would say.  Just plain terrible.
     For months he was alone and without possession.  But then dream became reality.  Mother stood there at his apartment's stoop, a liar, clutching the ribbon-adorned thing he could never have.  He remembered seeing the cloudy ribbon in the living room, thinking nothing of its origin or portent.  That was glee for his poor soul, pure and simplistic and absolutely amazing.  The sky was perfect blue, the bike was perfect blue, and the vision was a picturesque masterpiece.  So, naturally, he ran.

First few paragraphs of my book, Diphenhydramine

We were camping out at Wolf Range Point, and most of the residents had already left their homes to join in the celebration; what holiday? we’d made our own:  Recreation Day.  The purpose was to dissociate in a social situation – being surrounded by your junkie peers was always a spectacular experience.  Absolutely everyone was completely fucked.

                I looked across the field into the massive flames spouting off a torrential bonfire the freaks had erected.  It rose as my perspective of it widened; “hey everyone!  I have arrived!”  Whoops and jeers.  One of them who’d obviously eaten a couple too many sheets started to charge me, belting out “rakakaka-bashuu!”  I’d normally react by fainting from utter fear, but something deep down inside of me made me get the fuck out of there; maybe it was the weed.  The forest around me looked like wholesome cover, so I dove into a moss-patch, clinging to the ground in a horrified state.  I could hear him rustling around; it sounded to me as if he’d recently come to believe that he was a predator; a giant bird beast that roamed the woods, gouging its prey to death with its enormous beak.  This was hell.

                Suddenly, I felt my skin was covered with huge ants that had been ejected from their slumber in the greens below me.  I couldn’t help but yelp like a wounded dog, scraping the earth away in a failing attempt to escape this fate; woe, woe, woe was me.  Then . . . “sshhhhhhhhhrrrrpt!”  Bursts of light rose on the horizon; some redneck bastard had set a bottle rocket in the flames, and the thing was flying straight at me!  The ants had long dissipated at this point, shook off by the sweltering sweat that flew off my glands.  Shakka-boom!  I bounded out of the way, slamming my head straight into an oak nearby.  Fuck this shit.  Ow.  Somebody call the ambulannn . . . What?  Who is?  I think that drink hit me harder than I’d expected it to.

There was a profound darkness that fell over my consciousness, lulling me into a deep hibernation that would recuperate me.  Perceptual stillness.