paradise paradisio

When I take the pills and stuff, nothing really happens. What I mean is that you don't get high. I know what that feels like. You don't really disconnect from your body or anything, or feel heavy, or shrivel, or expand, nothing like that. No colors, no hallucinations, no life changing epiphanies. You just feel safe. You just feel grounded. It's almost immediate too. You don't wait for it to work, the moment you take the pills from those small sampling cups--like the ones that free samples come it at Costco, you know the kind, small and made of paper--the moment you ingest those pills it clicks in. The switch is flipped and you suddenly feel secure. I can take hundreds of them too, shot after shot after shot after shot and I feel the same. Secure. I O.D on security. I guess you can't really call it O.D-ing. It's not something you crave in the same way. I know, I've been there too. Your eyes don't bulge and you don't drool and don't start to lose control of yourself, physically, and quiver and shake and demand with every fiber and cell that you get it back. ONE MORE TIME. Nothing like that.

When it runs out you get another pill and reset yourself to normal. Experimenting until you figure out your cycle and how to prevent yourself from ever going back to that feeling of uncertainty. One pill, twice a day, at breakfast and dinner, 3 times a day on weekends, 5 times a day on holidays and 6 times a day during elections. Simple.

"The wild beast, which lives in man and does not dare to show itself until the barriers of law and custom have been removed, was now set free. The signal was given, the barriers were down. As has so often happened in the history of man, permission was tacitly granted for acts of violence and plunder, even for murder, if they were carried out in the name of higher interests, according to established rules, and against a limited number of men of a particular type and belief..."
Ivo Andric from THE BRIDGE OVER THE DRINA

Peaches are in season. Do I dare? I want to ravish, to have sticky juices run down my jaw, to sleep and wake suddenly by a sudden force that suddenly accosts my every nerve and just as suddenly disappears.

Colors, tastes and textures swallowed. I like what feels good and raw. So simple, so easy.

Why grown ups hate growing I'll never understand. They want to cut everything--their hair, their fruit, their flowers, their nightmares, their bills. Make it all neater and smaller. Stunted. I hope my appetites don't wither with age. Why anyone wouldn't want to feel good--to be ravaged and ravage--I'll never know.

I'm drunk with newness. Every day, I wake up and some thing on my body is a little different, a little strange. A little luxury. I'm curious. I am my own mad scientist with mad human experiments. The things to have and try. The things to have and try!

Some one once told me the world is my oyster. Let me lay back and drink up. Please.

I turn it on
The bulb instantly illuminates the room with pure promise, lingering clarity
and a knowing
And as quickly as it lighted
It begins to flicker
The electricity crackles and begs for a solid connection
Something to sustain the light,
the beauty and the grace

It has nothing to do with opponents
That's the silly game man invented
for fear and lack of imagination
Such great distance from what's really real
Stop and look it in the face
Life follows its own laws that are none of our business
Better to be beyond time and space
In that place love's the only alchemy
Ideas, passion, words, and deeds
Bubble up and are what you seek
Dive into the deep
Take a swim with me

So. I just got drunk. Fucking wasted. Fucking Wasted. FUCKING WASTED. OH. i love saying that aloud. and in my mind. and writing it down on paper. and feeling it in my body. FUCKING WASTED! WASTED!!! WASTED!!!! Actually i AM fucking wasted. i'm floating. around. it tickles. It tickles so much. I'm giddy. HEHEHEHE! I'm so antsy.

I just had an image. Outside. alone on the street, or a basketball court. Me. Standing in my dress shoes, pointed toe, italian leather, slip ons, not laced. I hate the laces on dress shoes. And my white dress shirt, obviously the first few buttons unbuttoned, and my nicely pressed set of black pants. And a nice, black leather belt with a large silver buckle on the front.
The image.
Ok.
I'm dressed up. and it's raining. but instead of water falling from the sky it's vodka and i'm being shower with top shelf grey gooses and the jewels of russia, dowsing me and soaking me and its splashing on my face and drowning me and it's great. i feel washed. i feel baptized. I feel myself starting to slip away and dance. enter some kind of trance. I taste it. it's smooth, with a slight after taste. the burning keeps me warm outside. the bitterness that makes me shiver catapults me further into this trance, like a kind of dance, coming from the inside. erupting from the inside. from my stomach. and i make sounds. and I chant loud phrases in a language that i don't know, that i understand, but that i don't know. No one hears me, but i'm in direct conversation with the Gods and they are telling me to keep drinking, to open my mouth and stick out my tongue and to keep on drinking. KEEP ON DRINKING. and so I do. I keep on drinking. I NEVER STOP DRINKING!

That's the way all baptisms should be done.