[J m HofMarN]

About a month ago I undertook to alter my perceptions of reality. A clinical trial, if you will. To discover the effects of “shrooms” (clinical name: psylocybin) on a common American male. None being available for my worthy research, I at the shrooms instead. I endeavored to keep my observations of a strictly scientific sense, and use the Socratic method wherever possible. I even made an “experiment in progress” sign to hang on my door knob using the envelope of some communist party stuff I’d received. Those efforts did not last for long. This account is compiled from my rambling and often incomprehensible “research notes”.

The first hurdle to overcome was that, though I had managed to purchase the awful wrinkled things, I had no idea how to use them. I knew they were not smoked, and eating was preferable, but how? I don’t care what kind of high it gives. Those things reminded me of my grandmother. I’m not putting that wrinkly grossness in my mouth. Shove them up the ass? Inject them? What?

Using my culinary knowledge I soon figured that I could crush them into a beef stroganoff tv dinner. I let it cool down a bit first and then in they went. I devoured the whole thing with every kind of hunger man can have. This was to be greater than sex, greater than food, greater than dope or booze. It was nirvana’s doorstep and I had the key.

Soon typing began to sound like giggling, which I later found was me laughing because my typing sounded like me laughing. Then what little common sense I had began to fade away. This was problematic. I had done absolutely nothing to prepare my room, because I was looking forward to a spiritual trip wherein the Goddess, Karl Marx, Che Guevara, or some angel would pop by and impart wisdom.

Partly due to my misconceptions and over abundance of faith in my fleeting sanity, I hadn’t secured my room. Arrows, swords, droves of knives, paint, and dangerous music were everywhere. The only thing I had done was to decide ahead of time not to listen to a lot of MCR. I did NOT need an image of a girl turning into a zombie in my bed, especially while I was laying in said bed.

But I digress. My grip on self preservation was fading. I’ve always had self destructive tendencies. It’s a humble thing really. I know that my death makes little difference in this swirling sphere of gas and rubble. So it was no surprise that the first thing I noticed was a push pin on the floor. I wondered suddenly what “sharp” felt like. But for the moment I had the self control not to pick it up. Worse than that though was the sensation of heat everywhere. It had been fine earlier in the evening but I was certain I was hot, so off came all my clothes but my underwear, which would later be augmented by an apron and a lot of paint.

Soon I curled into a ball as if it would make the heat go away, but unknown stimuli kept shocking me and I began to spin around laying on my bed. I had my first vision which I recorded as such:

“I saw it,. a great orb suspended like a jewel acrss i shouopd say on the water. lightening everyweherre fframed bt (by) the most amazinf [pERRerns(patterns)
gold and purple
gold and piurple patterns
all around tigis orb in the sky
green luightening
its in the sky and in the water and on there(the) watytere!@(water)
IJK(I) started as if from a foe
the lifgthening is starling me“

But what did it mean? There was no time to interpret it because I soon began to unleash the gospel of the Good Lord’s Muskrat and the Red Lord’s Musket in a Kurtzian monologue.

“this is the last efighe(sigh) pf a dyiong mnind
a desperate thingy
smell i canb smell everything
thus ibe(I’ve) nonent(unintelligible) the drug has brought me to is perfect and golden there is nothing herlse(else)
yhtres unity npow to be fouy d(found)
theres unity now to be found
are they teh same
the red lord and the food lord
goooooooood lord
the red lors musket
the good lords muiskrat?
future sight now
holy hole in the foot and the shouklder
spreading the gospel of tghe good lords mujskey
i stared downj it to day”

And in a related speech to Slade:

“[02:04] Eternal Brat: red lords... ,muskrayt?
[02:04] Bass Beat of Dewm: Sourkraut gungho!
[02:04] Eternal Brat: u saw all of this from over there on the couch just before it happebned
[02:05] Eternal Brat: and i know whats on this cd toes bloeeeeeeeeeeed
[02:05] Eternal Brat: ''''''''''''toes b;eed
[02:05] Eternal Brat: thee red lords muskrat
[02:05] Eternal Brat: the good lords muskrat
[02:05] Bass Beat of Dewm: I will die before I recognize the rule of the Red Lord Muskrat.
[02:05] Eternal Brat: tthe rede lords muskrat
[02:05] Eternal Brat: wait tgere was a manntra before tgat
[02:06] Eternal Brat: something
[02:06] Eternal Brat: oh ytes
[02:06] Eternal Brat: supplenmebt nmy duiet
[02:06] Eternal Brat: ooh fuck rted lords miskety
[02:06] Eternal Brat: musket
[02:06] Bass Beat of Dewm: If it's a musket, that changes the entire song.
[02:10] Bass Beat of Dewm: Never forget that Bearstranauts are a bad idea.
[02:13] Eternal Brat: midnight klind of n interesting day
[02:13] Eternal Brat: is thios all coincidence keeps nefrpom goiung awayh
[02:13] Bass Beat of Dewm: Give it time.
[02:13] Eternal Brat: the red lords musk rat IS THe good lords musket
[02:13] Bass Beat of Dewm: Oh.
[02:14] Bass Beat of Dewm: What calibur ammunition does a muskrat musket take?
[02:14] Eternal Brat: sadlyt trheres no coicidences rfrom it all
[02:14] Eternal Brat: the red lors mnusket
[02:14] Eternal Brat: fuck
[02:14] Eternal Brat: thjers a cair dopwn tghere'
[02:15] Eternal Brat: a chair downnn,,, there?
[02:15] Bass Beat of Dewm: The_chair is down there, but the beer is up here.
[02:16] Eternal Brat: i end you now man
[02:17] Bass Beat of Dewm: You end me?
[02:17] Eternal Brat: youre just like jim morrisonb a dm y ancestors
[02:17] Eternal Brat: red lors musket
[02:17] Eternal Brat: this LOOJKS like typical insanity byut iu feel i should warbn you good lords muskrat
[02:18] Bass Beat of Dewm: I will keep my eyes peeled for all rodents wielded as weapons by royalty, I promise.”

The Jim Morrison mention was a reference to the fact that I was struggling to turn The Doors onto repeat. But after one of their songs it went straight to “All along the watch tower” The jamming intro nearly shattered my mind just by pure stimulus. As a result I soon put on an apron.

I know this because I began to freak out about a red thing around my neck when I discovered I’d put it there. The apron became my armor in a bizarre battle against a statue I had in my room. It had been shifted around until it was infront of an old crucifix I have for no reason. The statue was gold, an unfortunate color for what I deemed to be an idol. I slung three knives into it with incredible accuracy considering my state, and beat it until it fell down along with a few other things. The arrow, I believe, was what I used to actually knock it down. At which point I distinctly remember exclaiming “Oh fucking dragon!”

Talking to Slade throughout the experiment may have saved me a lot of trouble. The next morning, for instance, I discovered that in my epic battle with the golden idol I’d crushed my lamp. I made a comment about the lamp being spidery, so Slade wisely pointed out “maybe the lamp is unsafe right now?” Regardless of my companion’s help I soon realized that “In the eye of this storm I’m alone” and that everyone was outside. I’d lapsed back in from madness to realize that this was all in my head, regrettably. None of it was a holy sign or anything… not yet.

More to come. 10 pages of babbling madness doesn't edit itself, you know!

[Slade]

You'd think that talking to a guy tripping on shrooms would be an entertaining experience, but after a while it just got really fucking annoying. I was also disappointed that JM had shared no words of wisdom discovered in an alternate state of mind; he just kept babbling on and on about that muskrat and supplimenting his diet, with atrocious typographical errors every step of the way.

This version is already a lot more exciting.

[Spoon Poetic]

Please be careful, Jm. I know a girl who went blind when she took shrooms, which was quite dangerous; also a guy friend of mine tried to kill himself when it was "revealed" to him that he wouldn't actually die, but be transported to some purple paradise or something like that. Is it really worth doing it again?

Edit: Temporarily. She was blind for several hours. Also in a deep state of paranoia, which the blindness sure as hell didn't help.

This post has been edited by Spoon Poetic: 12 September 2007 - 11:14 AM

[J m HofMarN]

Slade - Hey when the keys are moving and your body's moving in a different direction, typing can be off. I have no excuse for my muskrat related chanting though.

Spoon - I made a fleeting attempt at suicide later in the evening, it was pretty nifty really.Don't know anything about going blind though, it sounds like this girl was having a bad trip.

I think it's definately worth doing again, especially now that I have a better idea of what I'm doing.

[Spoon Poetic]

Then please be careful; don't leave weapons lying around! Maybe even some sticky notes that say "if they want you to kill yourself, they're lying!" Something like that. And, uh, good luck? :-/

[J m HofMarN]

Article is done. Should be up tomorrow. It's one of my longer works for the site at about 3 pages.

[CJ Marren]

Man, I've never done drugs (hell I've never drank either), and although I don't agree with them, shroom stories always make me laugh. Usually at the person themselves, but nonetheless you just made me LOL at work.

[J m HofMarN]

Glad to hear you enjoyed it.

[CJ Marren]

And likewise for you sir! Just be careful!

[J m HofMarN]

Next time I do it I intend to go out on the town and interact with square society as some kind of bizaar social experiment. But I'll do it carefully just for you.

[CJ Marren]

Awww, thanks lover