LUCY IN THE SKY WITH DEMONS

April 23, 2007

Now that the statute of limitations has lifted, I believe I can safely regale you all with a true tale of harrowing anticlimactic anti-wonder.

The following was taken from an old journal, wherein I was writing about my first LSD experience (or non-experience--since it was apparently gank shit), as it happened (or didn't, as such). I took three (or so) tabs and got near-jackshit, but found a way to write about it anyway, as it all unfolded...or failed to, in that instance. Of note, this was the first appearance of my "warm, buttered assholes" fiat.

My chickenscratch was almost undecipherable (and written in faded-out pencil, no less!)--I can't believe I managed to transcribe this at all. Enjoy.


ca. 2001

I wish I could call The Professor, my old Dope Mentor. But it's late, and his extended family would likely saw his head clean off for receiving phone calls this late--and The Prof would be no good to anyone without a head. He would be too short.

Tonight, I received a gift--"presents of mind" if you will...I certainly did. Tonight, I'm waiting on God or Godot...waiting for the Saviour or the Saucer Men--waiting on SOMETHING. Good acid is, allegedly, the gift that keeps on giving, like incest and syphilis. I have yet to discover whether this is "good" acid, but it is likely to continue giving, nonetheless; I have to work tomorrow, and I took way more than I was told to. Sadly, I have fallen prey to the old "It's not working yet...it must be weak...I'll just take some more!" folly, as I've done with other things in the past... Whoops.

Oh well. So far, I am largely unimpressed. I am lounging on the sofa in a colorful Death Metal t-shirt and a kilt, listening to King Crimson's Red on repeat, and staring at the large, menacing, skeletal luna moth model we have hanging from the ceiling. The image of it all is surreal enough without the drugs. That's part of the problem--I'm fucked up enough without the drugs. Thus, when I do them, I'm only disappointed. I expect too much. But what do people really expect when they drop acid? To be much like I am in my natural state, I gather. I suppose I expect to "transcend" at some point--"cross the Rubicon" and all that. But really, where do I go from here?

Oh yeah...Hell.

Case in point: The other day, I asked a coworker a typical question: If someone were to hand you a bowl of hot buttered assholes, would you put salt on them? No, really...would you? The question, as posed, is trickier than it seems. I suppose it would be like musky, puckered tortellini. And I asked this question sober, and earnestly. It was not unusual by my standards, not atypical at all. So again, I ask you, where the fuck do I go from here?

Oh yeah, to work--early tomorrow afternoon. And Hell.

Perhaps I should write a piece for the new book about people tweaking about restlessly in a room, waiting for their acid to kick in. It could be cute. I wonder how many great things have been accomplished in this world while people were waiting for their acid to hit. I imagine most of them turned out to be children's shows.

Dear God, that luna moth is creepy.

I'd love to note in this entry about how I/we obtained this shit--it's actually pretty funny, but alas I cannot. I can, however, report this much of the story, which is humorous enough in its own right: I ate a lot things I probably shouldn't have (certainly nothing new for me, I suppose, given my relationship history). A friend of mine, whom we shall call "The Doctor," said that he was leaving it for me at work. He said that it went straight from the dropper onto a piece of paper, and that I'm supposed to eat the paper. It would be in my mailbox, but never specified what sort of paper it was. Well, of all days to get lots of fucking memos...you get the idea. I have never gotten so many notes, post-its, and announcements in my entire life as I have on this forsaken day. After work, the good Doctor finds me in the parking lot and says, "Oh, hey man--sorry I didn't get to your mailbox--here it is!"

Dear God, am I bored. Oh but for a toaster to sprout legs and crawl across the floor. Oh but for a glimpse of the cats chanting Satanic litanies, sacrificing a cricket to Yog-Sothoth. Oh but for Yog-Sothoth to be playing golf with Barney Rubble. Oh but for SOMETHING.

Dear God, dear God, dear God...sincerely, bored in StL.


PS DAMN FUCKING MOTH!!!!!!!!!

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A CAVALCADE OF SHAME

December 19th, 2006


I'm bored...and you shall pay the price.

Whilst I prepare my next actual article/essay, here is a random gay-ass MySpace survey that I drunkenly indulged in.

Enjoy. Or not.

Whore.


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*** 39 LASHES, MUTHAFUCKA


37 Questions Some People Wouldn't Think To Ask!
Because They Have Lives--The Fools! WE SHALL CRUSH THEM!

1. When's the last time you ran?
There are some who say I run to this very day.

2. Do your jeans have rips, tears, and holes in them?
You assume I'm wearing pants.

3. What are you dreading right now?
My next cursed breath.

4. Do you celebrate 4/20?:
Yes, by shooting a stoner in the fucking face.

5. What are you listening to?:
The sound of the ages creeping up to smite my shed of last ambition.

6. When was your last doctors visit?:
Do I look like someone who would have health coverage?

7. Do you get the full 8 hours of sleep?:
I'm not sure; I keep passing out.

8. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?:
You mean ready for bed, right?

9. "First Loves Are Never Over"...is this true for you?:
Insomuch as the legal ramifications are forever pending...

10. Think of all your exes. Would you take any of them back?:
Into the back of the basement, and shoot them.
Then bad things would happen to the corpse.
Then GREAT things would happen to the corpse.

11. If anyone came to your house on your "lazy days" what would they find you wearing?:
The crudely-stitched skins of my enemies.

12. Does/did your school have tornado drills?:
Maybe; but I'm pretty sure we used Black & Decker.

13. Do you own a pair of adidas?
I haven't worn sneakers since I had the Anthrax shirt to match.

14. Who did you cut and paste this survey from?:
Frenchie/Romanticide. Because she's adorable.

15. Do you eat raw cookie dough?:
Yes. My favorite flavor is "Suffering."

16. Have you ever kicked a vending machine?:
Yes. For not putting out.

17. Don't you hate when the radio ruins good songs by overplaying them?:
They ruin perfectly good subliminal messages ordering me to consume and conform much the same way.

18. Would you rather them play the whole video or just a clip of it on TRL?:
I would rather TRL emit a nerve-corroding shriek that dehabilitates its listeners,
slowly eroding the membranes that keep their noses from bleeding uncontrollably.

19. Do you watch Trading Spaces?
Various/Assorted women-folk in my life seem to enjoy it. I avoid that stuff like marriage and children, personally.

20. How do you eat oreos?:
In the most disturbing way possible.

21. Have you ever stayed online for a very long time waiting for someone to sign in?:
No, but I've stayed offline for long periods of time waiting for someone to sign off.

22. Are you cocky?:
There's a fine line between cockiness and madness. I'm pretty sure I'm just one of the insane ones.

23. Shortest relationship?:
Between your face and my impending fist.

24. Longest time without going home?:
What's this "home" you speak of?

25. Could you live without a computer?:
That's crazy-talk.

26. When was the last time you cried?:
Ten years ago, give or take.

27. When you watch movies at home, do you turn the lights off?:
No; I stand outside, peering creepily through the window, as other people watch movies in the dark.

28. When did you find out that Santa wasn't real?:
When I realized that the *real* Santa wouldn't have time to stop and murder some kid's family.

29. Have you ever had a "10"?:
Probably not...but one fine and fateful day, I nailed two fives.

30. What do you do when you're sad?
Fill out surveys. :(

31. Who would you call first if you won the lottery?:
The owner of the livestock I sacrificed in the ritual, and offer to reimburse the poor bastard.

32. Last time you saw your best friend?:
Right before the banishing ritual.

33. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?:
Laser eyes, totally.

34. Last person to kiss you?:
Failure.

35. Who/What sleeps with you every night?:
Certainly not my conscience.

36. How many times have you been pulled over?
About as many times as I've been crawled on top of.

37. If they made a movie of your life, what do you think people would say about it?
That it lacked the subtleties of the book.

38. If you could know one thing about the future, what would it be?:
How I should have answered this question.

39. What would you do for a Klondike Bar?:
I would kill myself...and when my tainted spirit finds its destination, I will topple the master of that dark place. From my black throne, I will lash together a throne of bone and blood, and fueled by my hatred for you, this fear engine will bore a hole between this world and that one. When it begins, you hear the sound of children screaming--as though from a great distance. A smoking orb of nothing will grow above your bed, and from it will emerge a thousand starving crows. As I slip through the widening maw in my new form, you will catch only a glimpse of my radiance before you are incinerated. Then, as tears of bubbling pitch stream down my face, my dark work will begin...I will open one of my six mouths, and I will SING THE SONG THAT ENDS THE EARTH.

Thanks for asking!


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