Another fucking cycle

“The strangest thing about this is that a thought can go on and on circling your mind, that you can’t stop obsessing over it, that there are no brakes to apply to things you no longer want to think about. In normal life, you distract yourself — pick up a newspaper, go out for a walk, turn on the television, phone somebody up. You can throw your mind into a sop, trick yourself into thinking you’re all right, that the thing that’s been haunting you is resolved. It won’t work for long, of course — an hour, two hours if you’re lucky — because nobody’s that stupid and because these things always come back to you when you’re once more idle and distractionless. In the small, dark hours of the night, when you’re being rocked into blank-mindedness on a bus. The problem with being like this is that you are constant prey to these exhausting cycles of thought.” -  Maggie O'Farrell

false memories

They say the fabric of memory is pliable and self-serving. It can be revised by the simple act of re-hashing things. I don’t know if this has anything to do with it but I often recollect scenes from movies I enjoy. Lately I’ve been watching a lot of French films with the actress Audrey Tautou ..who I just adore. I saw her in the movie ‘Da Vinci Code’ last night. This morning when Audrey Tautou popped into my head ..I mistook her for the character she plays in the movie. A character of potentially game-changing consequence to humanity. It felt eerie. It was just a flash but I’m wondering if this isn’t also some kind of false memory. Perhaps I’m overthinking it. I often blur the distinction between fantasy and reality. I know I confuse scenes from the movies with episodes from my past.

go ask Alice

"Never Again ..!" is what she swore ..the time before
Model: Jessica Truscott

Josie Hyde

Lately I’ve been noticing how things that come to mind are usually the most likely, useful or routine things ..definitely not the ‘world of possibilities’ I would like to see. Walking along State Street today, I watch a woman in full burka enter a fashion boutique with her husband and child. “They’ll be out in a flash” I suspect. What happens ..? They walk out ten minutes later carrying packages. Farther down the road, I hear what sounds like a Mozart piano concerto. Must be coming from Bloomingdale’s or a coffee shop. Turns out to be a waif sitting on the sidewalk playing an electronic keyboard. I sit and listen. When she’s done I tell her it sounds like she’s ‘classically trained’. I mean it as a compliment. “No, I play by ear.” She says “You mean you learned to play like that by listening to CDs  ..?” I ask. “Also by channeling” she replies. She tells me she’s been playing this way since she was four years old. Tonight I’m attending a multi-media performance by Josie Hyde describing her experience at an ‘ayahuasca’ ceremony in the Andes. However, this is not just about her experience ..this is the experience itself !   I feel intoxicated. Like a hole has been punched through the night sky and I catch a glimpse of a  universe of possibilities.

Cartel grows

This story is more about my capacity for self-delusion.

DEA agents investigating Cartels  growing marijuana on California forestland turned up beer kegs, propane stoves, poachers and fieldworkers living in tents. Many of them weren’t even sure where the hell they were ( “Texas ..?” ). Turns out it wasn’t the Cartels after all. Mostly itinerant farmers all the way from Michoacan who were trying to avoid the Cartels and move closer to market. When I heard this I went “I could have told them that ..it’s well-known that Cartels are more into smuggling than farming” and “Michoacan farmers are the ones with the know-how and perseverance to set up camp and live in the woods like that.” Fact is ..I could have told them nothing of the sort. I’d been following this story and I too believed that Mexican Cartels were infiltrating California. I could of only told them otherwise after they’d already told me. Armed with this new information ..I quickly went back and revised my memory for things I knew before. Kind of like revisionist history ..giving me a false sense that ‘I knew it all along’ ..arrogant asshole that I am.

Further on

The remaining members of the Grateful Dead are playing at the Bowl tonight. Fortunately they’re the key members. I can smell ganja from my deck. I grab my hiking poles and head toward Anapamu to watch the revelry. Now I’m part of the revelry. I’m sitting on my neighbor’s lawn with some kids from out of town ..Andy, Emilie, Jeff and Zak. Andy, 25, has shoulder-length hair and a beard. He looks kind of like George Harrison in the day. He's been following the reformed Dead since 2005. He knows a lot more about them than I do ..including their inception-to-date history and current constitution. He tells me who’s playing tonight .. how he first saw them on tour with a guitarist from the Allmann Brothers band ..and who the members were when I was following them in the early seventies. He also knows more about the neuro-active properties of hallucinogens than I do. Something I kinda’ thought was my area of expertise. I tell him I’m looking for marijuana that’s high in cannabidiols (CBD’s). He tells me I’m looking for Cannabis indica. It’s got a higher CBD-to-THC concentration than Cannabis sativa. He asks me what I used to do for a living. I tell him I once worked in the field of regenerative medicine. He tells me how current studies show that psilocybin facilitates neuro-regeneration by flooding the brain with information. Sounds reasonable I say. Then Zak tells me about studies that show how it was probably part of our evolution ..responsible for the development of the neocortex. Our ancestors ingested the ’shrooms they found growing on piles of dung. I’m impressed. I tell them I think kids like them are the future of this planet. Before I leave they hand me a package. At home I open it and I find a pipe packed with hashish. Well, bless their sweet little hearts ..!

Crazy cat peekin through a lace bandanna / Like a one-eyed cheshire, like a diamond-eye jack /  A leaf of all colors plays a golden-string fiddle / To a double-e waterfall over my back.

Kālī

 

 

By Serena Kali Devi

 

As I exhaled my bong load I melted to nothing warped into another dimension. I had no thought or life. I was no longer human. My life no longer existed, I had forgotten everything I've ever know. Gone... Once I was quickly and completely out of body, transported into hyperspace, Hindu goddess, Kali, the 'Dark Mother', took me on a magical vivid journey of colors, textures and mystical places. Everything was very colorful, and vibrant. She seductively gestured me to follow her, I followed with pleasure. She was mostly woman as she guided me, but as scenary changed so did her shape. From tigress to serpent she had me hypnotized showing me a world more beautiful than words can describe. Colors were exploding, dripping and splashing I could feel them and taste them. There was a distinct sound, a buzz, a vibration. I interpenetrated this vibration as the words "look", "see" and "follow" comforting me and rapidly repeating. There was a melting feeling, a melting feeling that took over my body made me feel wet, soaked. Not that my solid body matter was wet (because I was 'out of body'), but that I was water, a liquid matter. I flowed, following her though the universe, though her temple and I also flowed through her as blood in her veins. Vision after vision I fell deeper and deeper into her trance. But, once I hit my absolute peak, when I felt as if I reached the point of no return, a thought finally arose in my head. I slightly remembered physical self and without words questioned "wtf is going on?". Once I asked myself that i kinda remembered that this journey started because I took a drug. Then I remembered that I'm in a room of people being completely silent, patiently waiting for their turn, carefully watching me go through this experience. Once I recognized, realized and remembered my existence, the vivid images began to fade and an upside down triangle appeared. I tunneled though the portal of triangles back into reality. Finally I was somewhat able to see the real world around me. I looked up at my friends and all I could say was "wow" and also asked if i had pee'd myself (cuz of the wet feeling LOL). Slowly coming out of my trip, I laid back down to enjoy the rest of what she had to show me. The ceiling was now visible, but I could still see thousands of Kali's in patterns kaleidoscoping in my vision. The kaleidoscopic of her was rhythmically circling/ moving side to side as if it were a dance and wave goodbye. The intricate patterns began to blur and the colors blended as energy in the air. I finally stood up to let someone else take my place on the air bed for their trip. My body high was fading but I could still see and feel the pink, purple, blue and green energy pumping though the room and the friends accompanying me. This lasted for several more minutes after i had awaken. My friends told me that I laid there in my trip for about 12 minutes. They also said my eyes were wide open the whole time. I sat there trying to answer their questions of what I saw or remembered, but at that moment my brain was still barely processing the experience. Even today, I'm still mentally downloading what happened. There is so much more that I saw which I cant find the words explain and still don't even understand. But each minute that has passed since my trip, I've been able to better understand what was being shown to me. The most interesting part about my trip is that, before this experience I had no knowledge of Kali. Ive been doing my research on her and the more I'm learning about her, the more in love with her I fall and the more pure and true my experience with her becomes. I now feel a nurturing protection of her watching over me. I've gained a sense of enlightenment and a more free spirit. In my real world, life has been hard, but I suddenly feel at peace with the world. My experience with her has so much meaning in my life, I decided have her symbol, the Kali Yantra, tattooed on my back.

Galactic Psymadhi by ॐ Kali Devi ॐ

Visions of Kālī

April last year Serena ingested Ayahuasca blended in a smoothie. A guide was present during the session but Serena was only aware of her during ‘re-animation’. She experienced a disassociation so complete; she lost awareness of her body and even what it meant to be human. She describes drifting like a crumpled paper bag through portals of ‘cellular and molecular’ space. “I just felt like an essence floating through space. Then ( i ) merged with a much larger entity that was all-encompassing and I recognized (the Hindu Goddess) Kali in her incarnation as consort to Lord Vishnu (the creative power of the universe). We spoke telepathically, without words, just knowing. Kali conveyed to me that I was on the right path.” Serena came away with the feeling that she is a present day ‘incarnation’ of Kali. One of many. The feeling persists even now. It has definitely strengthened her commitment to spiritual practice.

a portrait of ecstatic experience by Serena Kali Devi

Cosmic consciousness

Esalen Institute, Big Sur

Monday October 31, 2011  Lyle is a work scholar. Says he’s a recovering addict ".. but not the way you think." I'm suspicious. He’s on a mission to give voice to his experience with ayahuasca. We’re sitting in the lodge at Esalen. He seems genuinely grateful that I’m willing to listen. Even blows off a  female admirer. Says he’ll see her in the baths later on and she takes off. He continues. “I completely left my body ..I could see it lying crumpled on the floor but I didn’t feel any attachment to it. Then I lost complete sense of myself. I felt like vapor with no trace of ‘Lyle’. I entered a hole ..some people call it a ‘K-hole’ but whatever ..it took me out of this world ..where I flew weightless and untethered ..but still connected somehow to my buddies ..we entered a cosmic realm where speaking wasn’t necessary.” Lyle gives me a look like 'the intellect isn't of much value here'. He goes on to say “We encountered beings from other parts of the cosmos ..unfortunately I have little memory of them ..that’s why I want to go back so badly ..that's the addiction.” Now his fists are clenched and he looks like he’s chomping at the bit. He goes on to say “Coming back to this plane was a slow process ..I had to struggle to re-unite with my body ..then I gradually became aware of my surroundings ..and my buddies. Honestly, I’m not really sure how long it took but it seemed like hours. I struggled to regain my speech. But anything we tried to say about the experience fell short and sounded cheap.” He slumped back. “The only thing addictive about it is how curious I am to go back there and explore some more ..plus regain the feeling of weightlessness.” He leaves me with an interesting anecdote. They use ayahuasca, along with pain relievers, to treat soldiers injured in battle. It wipes out the memory of their traumatic experience.

Wicked messenger

“Each person is capable of perceiving infinitely more. The universe is funneled through the reducing valve of the brain and nervous system ..what comes out at the other end is a measly trickle.”   The Doors of Perception by Aldous Huxley

I began taking psychoactive substances when I was 14 years old. At first, they gave me a release from the conditioned-fear I was under (living in the custody of a brutal guardian). They made me feel euphoric ..free to fly during rock concerts or while tripping in the desert. After a while however, they started to turn on me. I began receiving a torrent of messages revealing the horror of my circumstances. I felt like a cornered rat. Next they bombarded me with messages telling me what a defective, punk-ass, shit-for-brains adolescent freak I’d become. I felt defeated. However, there was a saving grace. I noticed that these messages went away the next day and I had a choice whether to accept or reject them. I struggled. I chose to study the field of psychology. I wanted to learn more about the nature of this ‘messenger-service’. My senior thesis had to do with the neurological-basis of hallucinogens [ link ]. It helped me understand a little more about the substances I was taking during high school and how they produced the phenomena I experienced. I learned that the ‘indole alkaloids’, which make up mescaline, psilocybin and LSD, work by reducing levels of serotonin in the brain. When this happens, the barriers to sensory-input drop ..and the scope-of-interpretation widens. This accounts for the initial release I experienced ..and the subsequent dread I encountered. Flights of imagination can turn ugly given the freedom to interpret them wildly, and the latitude to plunge my ass into a nightmare abyss. But no matter how euphoric or horrifying, the flight was temporary and I began to accept just how insubstantial mental phenomena can be. I guess that’s why they tell me I’m resilient to depression now. I had an opportunity early in life to experience just what a ‘wicked messenger’ the mind can be.

Anti-anxiety

The complaint I most frequently hear from former pot smokers of my generation (those who came-of-age during the 60’s and 70’s) ..is that smoking marijuana makes them feel nervous. Some describe it as so intense, it borders on paranoia. Consequently they quit and never came back. In the day, little was known about cultivating for the psychoactive effects of marijuana.

The times they are a’ changing. A new breed of cultivator has revolutionized the field. They can grow sophisticated varietals with a range of psychoactive properties. “The THC component is the same ..it is the mixture of other elements that play a vital role in changing the psychoactive effect.” Two decades ago, most marijuana smokers bought whatever their dealer had. It was illegal even for research purposes. Consequently nothing was known about marijuana other than its THC content.

One of these newly found elements is a compound called Cannabidoil or CBD. It’s responsible for the calming and pain relieving effects found in medicinal marijuana. Takes the buzz off THC so to speak. CBD is also helpful in treating a range of problems, including arthritis, the side effects of chemotherapy, asthma, sleep disorders and post-traumatic stress disorder [ link ]. CBD is measured in grams. Your local dispensary should carry varieties containing different amounts of CBD .. 0.35 grams being considered ‘good’.

5-HT Charlie

Charlie takes a whopping dose of over-the-counter serotonin (5-HT) every night before bed. Says it gives him vivid dreams that he’s able to remember during dream-work therapy the next day, which pleases his therapist.

“He says I’m making progress ..I should be finished soon.”
“Have you told him about the 5-HT ..?”
“Hell no, I don’t want to get disqualified.”
“Do you think it’s helping ..?”
“Hell yes, I wake up much more alert ..I’m keen for the rest of the day.”
“Ever notice things that may not be there ..?”
“Well, yeah .. doesn’t everybody. Don’t you see man, that’s precisely the kinda’ shit I’m afraid of ..something like this coming-up and sabotaging my progress.”
“Just keep in mind what you’re taking is a neuro-transmitter in the brain.”
“No it’s not ..it’s a neuro-enhancer!”
“..only in it’s absence. I think a better word would be neuro-regulator.”
“WTF are you talking about ..?”

I did my undergraduate thesis on serotonin and how it helps maintain a steady-state of consciousness. It keeps signals that are ‘out of the ordinary’ from reaching the brain and producing hallucinations. At night, it drops to levels where we experience dreams [link]. So naturally I feel like I gotta’ share this knowledge, and go “Charlie, the 5-HT you buy is bogus. It may look the same but it doesn’t act the same as natural 5-HT. It doesn’t filter unwanted signals ..but tells the body to shut down 5-HT production, which opens the floodgates. That’s why your dreams are so vivid ..and why they continue during the day.” To which he replies “Bullshit!! Nobody really knows how it works ..” and I go “Well OK, suit yourself man ..but it helps explain what got you into this mess in the first place [link].”  Charlie slumps down in his chair looking deflated and I feel like Mr. know-it-all who just ruined his trip.

Therapeutic value of hallucinogens

Recent studies reported in the Archives of General Psychiatry [link] and the Journal of Psychopharmacology [link], reveal that hallucinogens actually have legitimate therapeutic value. Scientists now believe these agents have the potential to help patients with post-traumatic stress, drug and alcohol dependence, unremitting pain, depression and the existential anxiety of terminal illness. According to Roland Griffiths, author of the first study:

“The psilocybin experience takes away the veil of fear and enables patients to see things in a more expanded and interconnected way. It can relieve the existential anxiety of terminal illness. The psychological improvements have helped many to reverse the course of their illness, which reinforces the notion that one should never underestimate the healing power of the psyche. Scientifically, these compounds are way too important not to study.”

This sounds familiar. In college I wrote my undergraduate thesis on the Neurological Basis of Hallucinatory Experience. I had the foresight (or audacity) at the time to recommend that hallucinogens would be a useful method-of-investigation for Psychologists. I said: “.. it would be negligent not to consider the guided peyote session as portal into alternative states of consciousness” [link].

Charlie

Sitting on the deck sharing a bowl with Charlie. I’ve always felt safe doing this even though I don’t have a medical marijuana card. My neighbors aren’t that close, and besides ..they’re pretty cool. I haven’t met the new neighbors across the creek yet. When I mention this to Charlie ..he freaks. Now he’s imagining a surveillance operation and starts outlining a plan in the almost-certain event that they start to move in on us. “We can hurdle a wall or two ..carjack Richard’s SUV ..drive to the harbor ..commandeer a boat ..sail out into the channel ..then head for open seas. It should work.” “Why would they have us under surveillance, Charles?” He looks at me in disbelief and explains how it’s not uncommon for con men to infiltrate the police department to enrich themselves by taking advantage of asset-forfeiture laws. While I don’t disagree about asset-forfeiture laws ..I tell him I think it’s a bit of a stretch in my case. Now he’s looking at me like you would a naïve child. “Bill, you really outta’ get a medical marijuana card ..save us both a lot of aggravation.” I’m not the one who’s aggravated, but I don’t say anything. Charlie’s not just a conspiracy theorist ..he’s a true believer ..and he’s definitely one to act on his beliefs. Paranoia has always been his default response.

Katy Perry

I finish running and climbing the steps at the HS football stadium. It’s almost sunset. I can hear Katy Perry at the bowl singing loud and clear. I climb the last set of steps, catch my breath while walking down a passageway ..and run into Alex and Jose. We sit in the stands and share some herb. They’re compañeros from the local Hispanic community who haven’t heard anything by Katy Perry before, unless it was by accident ..like tonight. They’re just hanging out. Occasionally they hear a tune they recognize ..only because it’s by somebody else. They are Snoop Dog fans. To me she sounds like a cheerleader at high amplitude ..but I’m really too stoned to say. I’m just gonna’ enjoy. Jose tells me it’s strong stuff. They can’t believe how long I hold it in for. Turns out Alex and Jose are eighteen, recent graduates of the high school ..and the only time that they ever leave the East side is to go fishing on the wharf. They say they’ve heard of ‘Goleta pier’ and might go looking for it some day. They’re not sure which direction it’s in. I tell them it’s north of here and that they might want to checkout the pier at Refugio too. “Wherezzat ..?” “Farther north ..” but I might have well said “ ..on the moon.” I remind myself that these kids occupy a shorter space-time narrative (God am I stoned). Now I’m being extra careful not to sound snobbish. I do suggest that they get out more. “Oh yeah ..like, where, man ..?” Head north ..like San Luis Obispo. Jose says he’s heard of it. I tell them there are youth hostels along the coast highway where they can stay really cheap. They go “yeah ..where at, man ..?” I’m about to suggest they try Googling it but stop when I realize how pointess that’d be. They already told me they don’t have Internet. I almost asked them for their email addresses too. I’m really stoned and having difficulty shifting perspectives. I can’t think of anything to say that might work so I write down the words ‘youth hostel’ on a cup and tell them to ask around ..the way I used to find things out when I was their age.

Soundcheck

I went to the dentist yesterday. This morning my soundscape seems different. More amplified. The people next-door sound like they’re shouting at each other over coffee on the patio outside. The volume of their chatter makes it seem like my boundaries are contracting, which in turn makes my music sound louder and more obnoxious. I turn it down to half it’s usual volume but it still sounds too loud, making me wonder why they haven’t complained before (or perhaps they have and I couldn t hear them). The telephone ringing sounds like a train roaring through the room. This afternoon, the bell inside the meditation hall goes off like gunfire scaring the daylights out of me. Now I’ve had enough. I call the dentist to see if got a soundcheck with my teeth cleaning. He acts as though I’m asking a strange question. Does that sound like a strange question ..?

Local buzz

Got a buzz with smokers at the high school stadium this evening – after completing my workout. Two teenagers big enough to be football players ..but probably weren’t. I could tell by their friendliness and total lack of defensiveness that they weren’t gang bangers. They laughed when they saw how long I would hold the smoke in. You don’t have to do that anymore. I have smoked with gang members before .. often enough that they recognize and trust me. They call me the hippie pot smoker ..and go “Hey, tell us some more of that weird-ass, trippy shit.” I figure if they’re going to get high ..they might as well know something about it. I am afraid that one day I'll run into a group of paranoid gang bangers ..which I have, come to think of it. It’s a forested area and I sometimes don’t see them until I run into them. As much as I might think it’s disarming to stop and share a smoke. They might think it wasn’t such a good idea to give that old guy a buzz. After I leave, they may go “..hey, wasn’t that the narc who took out Emilio ..?” ..and decide it might be safer if they took me out. I guess that makes me sound kinda’ paranoid too.

Raves

I don’t see much difference between the ‘raves’ I go to now, and the rock concerts I used to go to in the 60’s and 70’s. Both involve mind-bending music, mind-altering substances and people colliding on the dance floor. Moving through the crowds, I see people with pupils as big as frisbees and nerve impulses moving to the beat of the sound being pumped out of amplifiers ..or generated by their brains. Makes me wonder if there is something in the human psyche that is fulfilled by these events. Another parallel is the growth in the hallucinogen trade. Ecstasy started out fairly pure in the 1980’s but has become lucrative and heavily cut with amphetamine ..just like LSD was in the 70’s. In addition to higher profits, this has the effect of accelerating the heart rate, delivering the medication much faster and amplifying the effect. Since there’s a fine line between exhilaration and fear ..those added substances can easily push revelry into panic. This in turn causes the heart to pump faster and more erratic, which can result in wicked coronary events. Just like LSD, ecstasy started out legal, but became illegal over the course of concert events. This does not reduce their usage ..but it does reduce their quality, making them less safe to use. I remember watching people freaking-out and experiencing what looked like genuine terror at rock concerts. Now I prefer the high that comes from riding high-amplitude waves into exploding white water. But, hey ..that’s my prerogative.

LaLonnie

LaLonnie likes to call me a snake oil salesman. He tells me that psychology is nothing more than a pseudo-science. I agree with him, a lot of claims don’t have much merit ..but then, I like to point out that there are many that do. He just looks at me with disdain and dismisses me as a ‘flat-lander’. I can only guess what that means. This time I took it as my cue to duck out ..I had no interest in sticking around to watch his slide show at Dennis’. Dennis invited me over earlier going: “hey man, you gotta’ come see this.”

Weeks go by then, out of the blue, I get a call from the psychiatric unit of Long Beach Memorial. LaLonnie is asking for me. They tell me he’s sedated (1,200 mg of Thorazine) and I can come visit him now. I’m shocked. I had no idea. I look back for signs but I really don't know him well. I tell the nurse I had no idea ..and that I’m not his therapist. She says that’s OK, he’s already seen a therapist ..he’s asking for a friend. I tell her I think he’s asking for someone else, and I’m about to give her Dennis’ number, when she says no, he specifically asked for me. I call Dennis anyway, saying: “hey man, you gotta’ come see this.”

LaLonnie is sitting in his room, definitely sedated. I go “Hey LaLonnie, what brings you here?” His speech is measured but slurred. He tells me a police car brought him here. “OK, what were you doing when the police car brought you here?” “The first time?” he asks. “Yeah, the first time.” “S-s-standing in front of my house, givin’ way books.” “You mean the police came because you were giving away books?” “Nooo, of course not ..that wouldn’t make sense, would it?” “OK, why did the police come?” He thinks about it for a minute and says: “Oh, the neighbors called ’em cuz’ of a disturrbance.” It turns out, he was shouting at anyone who took a book, as well as anyone who didn’t take a book ..either way ..they were idiots. “So, what did the police do?” “They told me to s-stop sh-sh-shouting and go back inside the house.” “OK, what were you doing the next time the police arrived ?” “Throwin’ money out in the s-s-streeet.” “I see, was it your money?” (No, it was his aunt’s money, he’s in charge of her estate). “What did they do this time?” “they told me I better get back inside the house and s-s-stop throwin’ money in’ the streeet, and ..hey, I already explain’d alla’dissh to m-my attoorney, why’m’ I talking about it again? N-n-not to talk ’bout this with anybody.” “OK, so ..tell me what you were doing the next time the police arrived?” “Pulling f-f-furniture out on the lawn.” This time his neighbors stopped by to ask if he was having a yard sale. He told them no, it was perfectly good furniture .. he was taking it out of the house to protect it. Protect it from what, they asked. “A fire” he said. What fire, they asked. “The fire I’m going to light to burn the house down.” I'm like ..WTF LaLonnie (!?) He goes: “Oh m-m-man, I told ’em I was gonna’ build it back up again, only this time with b-b-better mat’rials, like t-t-titanium and p-pre-stressed concreete ..that way it will last hundr’ds of thous’nds of years, instead of just two or three d-d-decades.

He’s tired and it turns out the real reason he called was to get someone to fetch his address book. Dennis and I go. The house (which also belongs to his aunt) looks normal from the outside ..but it looks like squalor on the inside. There are piles of dishes, caked with hardened food, everywhere. Dennis goes looking for the address book while I poke around. The other rooms look about the same. Back at the hospital, Dennis asks about things at home. LaLonnie explains he’s working on it. He joined a dating service to help him find a girl who, as he put it “..will feel so honored to sleep with me that she’ll have the place cleaned up in no time.” “That’s pretty slick” says Dennis “I don’t believe a woman's ever felt that honored by me before ..how do you do it?” “First I d-dazzle ’em with brilliance, then I crussh ’em with a chunk of s-silence.” As we’re leaving, I say to Dennis: “I think it's ironic, the poor guy has just been hit by an awfully big chunk of pseudo-science .”

Psychotic episode no. 133

I walk home from State Street sometime after midnight, counting the blocks as I go. I unlock the door, climb the stairs and slowly walk down the hall. The hallway turns into an underground tunnel where menacing-looking apparitions reach out to grab me from between the bars of their cells. I walk as close to the middle of the hall as I can. Events of the evening dissolve ..the crowd at Sohos dissolves.. my bedroom door looms up and I push it open with my shoulder. Books have always been a source of refuge for me, so I pick one off the shelf and fall into bed. I turn the page, the room dissolves ..and the letters rise up like pillars. Somewhere a voice whispers “if it’s refuge you’re after ..you’re in the wrong place ..there’s nowhere to hide ..people will only make up what they can’t see anyhow.” Now the letters are forming words ..and the words, like thoughts, are circling my head ..mockingly ..pronouncing judgment .. like a booming voice, from a higher authority, coming down from the sky.