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Jan 9 · 105
Chroma Key
What do you do when nothing excites you anymore,
How do you cope in the post-epicurean world?

Chroma key a green tee with the galaxies
you wish you could visit,

Message me
and I'll meet there you there.
Breathless (1960)
Jan 5 · 41
I remembered for a moment
how lonely I was
and felt my recondite mind soar.

I wondered whether I wasn't retired
but my passion remains, as does my ethic.
I am a novel psychoactive substance enthusiast
but more-so
a philosopher of mind,
And admittedly of humankind.
Some notes from my last birthday: after 2 days
at home
tripping solo
I could breathe better, feel the rain on my face
and emotion in my chest, but eventually
this sensitivity fades.
I think that 'afterglow' is an artifact of self-(re)integration
which often follows the use of ego-dissolving substances.
It remains a recondite phenomenon.
Jan 3 · 77
If Nobody's In
I get sentimental about my skin.

I figure my superpower is: depression.

I reckon the cult of productivity our religion.

I fall farther into complacence than I'm comfortable with.

I think compassion is acknowledging the shared human condition
of imperfection.
I wonder when no one is
Dec 2019 · 64
"Another year gone",
Another episode over,
Another moment draws to a close; for some weeks
I've been thinking of how to address this ending.

We live in the company of our own making,
And I've been in good company during
my tenure. I'm thankful for the time,
Effort, and technology allowing
my words to rest here
after traveling from G-town
through to Dublin and out of Ireland
to The Netherlands, and from there through
various nodes of The Onion Router, onto this website;
But I think the travels of a letter
and the transmission of language,
Through speech or paper,
no smaller a miracle. What utterance
indeed, what of semantics, but I digress;

This ending, the year so nearly over.
Over the holidays I said to my father:
Relief is the fulfillment of hope

How relieved I will be
when I hold these words
as a book
in hand.
Line One by Albus Dumbledore
Dec 2019 · 240
Acute anxiety, insomnia, hand tremors, and a pre-delirium state.
Feelings of excess glutamate
spurned by GABA dysregulation.
It was not 'the fear', there was no binge.
Rather it was brief, mild ethanol withdrawal
prompted by frequent consumption over the week.

Distinct feelings
of excitotoxicity.
Should abstain from GABAminiergics
for 1-2 weeks, will abstain from alcohol
for 1-2 months.
Dec 2019 · 71
Hardly A Day
I'm cold.

I thought I could relish the feeling
of this cold universe
as it flows through me, but
my pseudopsychosis struck out and,
Once again that ideation's strange tidings have turned
in on itself. A series
of involuntary shudders run
through me, blessing me
with the modern sacraments:
Depression, stress
and anxiety.
I'm ok;
Dec 2019 · 158
Republic Of Dread
Acceptable self-harm is drinking a pack of off-brand biscuits
through several cups of tea
every other evening.
Acceptable self-harm is binge-watching an entire season
of whatever's hooked it's tentacles into
the reward pathways of your brain
in one sitting.
Acceptable self-harm is buying into vicious ideology
because it makes you feel deep connection while
Unacceptable self-harm is when your wrists ache
for a sharp edge, or your brain itches
for a chemical foreign to it.
Dec 2019 · 85
Took 10mg of Cetirizine last night,
A second-generation antihistamine.
Onset was apparent, and a minimal drowsiness
was felt into the next day: so vague, and slightly unpleasant.

Possibly an enhanced aggressive feeling 24 hours later.
Perhaps the threshold of psychoactivity; but really
pointless, obviously nothing (without ailment to alleviate).
How odd is psychonautics.
Excuse me.
Nov 2019 · 117
25 years old, still nothing owed.
Could get out of bed, or just
do some more 4-**.

A day for the world.

Ate some moxy,
Can feel it.

nothing more
than to make music.
What am I?

Nov 2019 · 96
Focus on others.
This message I feel
is of such importance.
Spend less time worrying
about yourself.
I saw Kate Tempest perform and
saw another human being
with eyes as wide
and a mind

as darkly bright, soaking
in all the half-light, pondering
how human we all are, consumed
by the question and its many answers.
Her word was incandescent
with semantics that struck
the psyche like lightning.
Nov 2019 · 141
November Hesitant
A swan cruised down Lough Atalia
as midnight struck this brisk November.
And a second followed in its wake
as the city's sparse weeknight traffic sewed by,
Woven into the quiet breeze of a new Wednesday.

I listen to a few tunes in the background as I cycled
down The Line; pausing to take note
of this moment, I gazed upon G-twn.
Nov 2019 · 82
My ventures into substance, be they
pharmacological or pharmacopathic, have me;
And I, ever-curious as to their nature, sought counsel
in psychoactives as if they were an extension of myself, being.

Were they, those instances, representative of a coupling
that bears upon my cognitive system, or was I engaging
in pathetic fallacy on an altered scale.

What's that intuition
some of us have come across in our travels, that
each mode of hallucination
shines a new light on abiogenesis, and on the end
of life itself; allows us to sit with it

and ease into those concepts, where self
is among it's reflection, we muse on
being, content with the universe.
Nov 2019 · 157
Words In Passing
There's a moment in the adult
as it's grown, where the wonder
that was felt as a child
has been supplanted
by a routine knowledge of the world;
World as structure
rather than as process.
When curiosity is replaced

with expectations and patterns
for us to retrace
into the tender night.
"Literary or scientific, liberal or specialist,

All our education is predominantly verbal
and therefore fails to accomplish
what it is supposed to do.

Instead of transforming children
into fully developed adults,
It turns out students of the natural sciences
who are completely unaware of Nature as the primary fact of experience,
It inflicts upon the world  students of the humanities who know nothing of humanity,
Their own or anyone else's."
Lines Twelve to Twenty-Two from The Doors of Perception by Adolus Huxley.
Nov 2019 · 136
Into the City
As I left I felt a thing, sadness,
So apparent to me
as I ran to the bus.

Why had I departed their company
and the warmth
of our homestead in Oran?
I returned into G-town
to be alone
for the rest of the evening.

Perhaps I just wanted to be with
my substances. Perhaps there's a psychology
to treat with. Perhaps there's far less thought put into it.
Nov 2019 · 282
Temporary Pleasure
What a strange Halloween week,
I am underwhelmed, I did not
overindulge, despite the
list of things I ate:
MPA, hash oil, 2C-B,
4-**-MiPT, escitalopram.
My head is not sated, I can feel
a sensation of unanswered cravings;
But I restrain.

I dose low, barely exceeding
the threshold.

Starve your head.
Oct 2019 · 168
I query the belief
that I do not use drugs
for the traditional reasons.
This belief entails crafting a morality
and there is nothing as perilous; good, bad
and evil. I hold that psychoactive substances are
inanimate. I'm not sure I can distinguish my use from
another, but now I'll write otherwise.
I realized in the shower
my reason for continuing down
this path. Clearly no longer recreational,
Nor spiritual (even though its origins are there).
Neither therapeutic notions nor addictive patterns motivate
my wanderings anymore. No,
My interpretation seeks to push the limits
of what I feel as human.
I am willing to test the conditions
of our humanity.
I sought the threshold
at which we are animal, and
in this willingness to lose my mind
I'd found something
that I now juxtapose
with an understanding of Other.
Oct 2019 · 200
Bad anxiety
while socializing on Methiopropamine.
Too easily intimidated/can't talk.
I am confused. Consideration
given to resuming therapy.
Comments aside, MPA is uninteresting.
Trivial entactogen. I wonder what I've been doing
in stimulant territory this long. Return to psyches overdue
but must ease into it, mind is out of practice
and I don't want to incur further damages.
Oct 2019 · 57
How to reconcile
with the disparity

of realizing
entheos and apotheos
are two aspects of the one thing:

A metaphysique; this bridge
between logic and the world
has me
"I'm ok", in the lower case
conjures such an image
of intensely fragile
emotional states.
Oct 2019 · 169
Beyond A Moment
Sometimes I feel so stricken by choice,
Yet constrained by an apathy
I wasn't born with.

In the quiet I keep watch under all the stars.

As they cradled each other
Rue and Jules turned the world 'round their scars.
For a moment I remembered what it was
to feel blessed. The things I took for granted
haunt me a little. I saw myself, in bed, staring
into my laptop, so starved of human connection.

When I was young I wanted to be an actor
because during performance I could forget
myself, briefly play at somebody else,
Someone with confidence. Nowadays I feel
each grain
slip through the hourglass. Alas, my neurosis
has me Shook One: Pt. II
Oct 2019 · 286
Temporal Exhaustion
Frustrated at myself;

But feel I need say more
than that
about these serotonin fumes
I give off.

Ye Ye - Daphni,
Heard it before
hon'. Where's the sweetness at,
Where've you gone?
Oct 2019 · 200
Context and Continuity
There was a time without hesitation
when I spoke for youth.
I feel old often.

There was a philosophy
which allowed the possibility
for some meaning
or value in life.

Were it as certain as existentialism
about the value of one's own
constructed meaning,

Or as certain as nihilism
about the total inability to create meaning.

I would take comfort where I can, but there're times
when I reject warmth
and feel the cold universe run through me.
My frail body, were it bound up with anything other
than the psychological tension arising from
this long search, and our failure
to find anything that arises beyond the interactions of
our subject. How should we live?
How shall we be genuine among alien determinations
and all that otherness, enveloping us: our reflection.
The mirror does not usually spare a thought
to its constituent, referring not to glass nor opaqueness.
The mirror, object
constituted by subject
that there were. One drive,
Willing to subjugate the others,
And a thought to spare the subject
as it were. Melody might reconcile with
the absurd, out-of-tune as it is
and out-of-sorts as I were.
Oct 2019 · 119
As one ages it can become difficult to see
that beauty in the world, I try
to remember to look for it,
To enjoy simple aesthesis when possible.

Listening to Ocean Eyes
and I feel older inside.

Realized how alone I am, wondered
whether I haven't been clean for too long.
I keep forgetting
I don't have a substance use disorder, I keep forgetting
I'm not currently a drug user.
I gave up that life, and
can't remember why.

Take enough benzodiazepine and you can time travel,
But only forward;
Was never really too bothered with benzos, 'cause I just
wanna go back
and be accepted.
I'm almost 25. Right now I'm really feeling you, 2019.
Was listening to Billy Eilish earlier, and watching Euphoria.
Feel this
so much sometimes, get such a sense of our contemporary culture.
this day, these moments in time; I felt emotion, and briefly fled my home.
Twenty-Nineteen draws to a close.
Terrible dream last night, the next installment of
a recent nightmare in which I'd killed someone.
Sense of dread that I couldn't shake, couldn't
remember who I had slain, but the motive
was to conceal some crime I perpetrated.

When I woke up I couldn't remember anything
about them
other than their gender; it took me
so long
to convince myself it wasn't real.

I don't understand. I know
nothing worse
than the concept of taking life from a human.
It disturbed me deeply, such a thing

invading my sleep.
I am somewhat disappointed
in myself and those old habits.

I did not intend
to drink or smoke
or take stimulants
last night. Alas, my former zealotry took me by surprise.

I was happy enough just being around my people,
Talking with them. There was no need for me
to be as concerned,
To champion
the cause.

This I regret
for I was far too drunk
when the 4-Fluoroethylphenidate
came out, and its nuances were lost on me.
Sep 2019 · 99
Pacta Sunt Servanda
The human cannot return to nature,
There is too much beyond us which we cannot return.
Signs, tools, and above all, promise.
To promise is to prescribe a duty, and offer one's reputation
as collateral. It implies trust, it assures
that one will act in accordance with their word.

What should make this anything other
than an elaborate set of signs
used to measure
the value of other humans?
An intricate social tool, as it were.

In promise there is a prescription of duty
towards another, and an invocation of hope.
In promise there is subordination, implied trust.
They say agreements must be kept, unless they are worth less to others than a new option is to you.
Sep 2019 · 151
Out Of The West
The thought struck me,
How long it has been.
How long it seems
to recover, but

I wonder
whether it's that
you learn to live with a cleft heart, or
that you replace a part here and there
until it no longer resembles whatever
you once felt. Memory's at the chasm.

Guilt, I wish I'd been better.
Got a haircut, beard trimmed.
Say I look better. D'I feel better?
Ah, a year seems like a long time.

What to do
other than write ode
to GABAminergics, one for the Irish.

Earlier I took a low dose of phenibut,
Three-quarters a gram,
Perhaps equivalent to a pint.
Mild result, tired now, my eyelids
are heavy with the experience of it all.
I fall asleep
to Skinshape's
Left With A Gun.
I wondered a lie, it is my head.

The culture within me seeks solace in
substance, and I wonder
why my mental health won't stay wholesome.

It is hard to hear that genuine, innocent voice
anymore, to hear it put words to my mouth.
My head pounds with nervous aftershock.

I was quite manic today. It is clear to me
I was not in control of myself

and would do well to seek help, or administer something
that'd reconcile with myself with
these sways.

Hatred. My heart burns with it.
How can I forgive myself?
Part of me
wants to watch it burn.
Is it okay to write that?
To admit to living
in a world of one's own

sins and torment;
A survival technique:
To look toward a dark future
spent living in the past.

I'll not shy away from
reasoned discourse, nor
should I go willingly into my pain
thinking it'll save me.

The next day I took a single milligram
of 4-chlorodiazepam.
Where to from here?

To move on
is forgiveness enough.
Aug 2019 · 116
Sometimes I'm afraid
if I were to be gentle with myself
I would break.

I write down this thought
I had in the shower, and after sitting with it
realize I'm not broken.
Forgive yourself for something.
Aug 2019 · 430
Cream Soda
Old friends, forgotten habits.
Last night I drank some things:
100μg of flubromazolam,
100mg of tianeptine,
And cream soda, among other things.

I quest, I'd venture, that sense of wonder.
I'll find answers.
Seeking to cultivate my contentedness; that existential
happiness, immaterial.
Aug 2019 · 188
Lost My Anthem
I realize a part of me
's been gone
somewhere, something
's been stolen from me.
My psyché, my tribe, my raison d'etre.

A part of me struggles with identity,
Exposed to those criticisms of self
and wary that I might succumb
to stability. It finds difficulty,
I neglect my mental health.
These worries are a part
of me. They fought for me,
Against conformity, say they're
the part of me
that's alive.
I lost my anthem
when I settled for normalcy,
When I stopped believing I was special.
When I ceased questing for ventures curious, and

considered sated my cravings most fiendish.
I lost my anthem
when my writing diminished,
When my exercise withered,
When my drug use slipped
and my demons pleaded.
I lost my anthem
and it's left me
plenty of memories
I can no longer pronounce
without a tone of condescension.
Those misarticulated metaphysics have
timbres' as junkiesque.
That'll suffice for a sentence in G-twn. Heaven.
I lost my city.
Jul 2019 · 1.8k
How To Hack A Dystopia
We stepped, unknowing, into the shadows
by social media; postmodern realities emerged,
from big data. We're caught in the world wide web,
Caught between
"the electron and the switch".
Cambridge Analytica,
Data Propira;

by a promise
of what could be,
"Trust your technolust"
was the advice those hopefuls gave me.
Their optimism, innocent naivety, glitched history.
I can't sign out
of my social media account.
Anxiety's got me in her grip.

How do we fight the power,
Will privacy prevail?
Data rights
would promise us
a patch for this great hack,
there'll always be shadows
as long as there's light,
Those who declare
anonymity is
their right.
Cyberpunks, cypherpunks, crypto-anarchism
won't be enough.
As is, potentials' -liberalism and -libertarianism
duke it out.
The electron remains, but one wonders
as 'the switch' gives way
to something all the more quantum.
Recommended watching:
The Great Hack (2019)

Line Seven from The Hacker Manifesto by +++The Mentor+++ (January 8, 1986)
Line Fifteen seen in Hackers (1995)
Jul 2019 · 312
I'm still in bed late into the summer afternoon.
Laptop always on, doing internet stuff:
Music, poetry, what else?

I don't think too hard about the past few weeks.
I hear voices of people going about their Sunday.
I wonder will I get up, wonder what I'll get up to.
I may get down later, may get into trouble this eve.
Maybe trouble only comes tomorrow; and perhaps

nothing is forever, but what else.
There's much I could comment on, alas,
Not now. There will be a time
and motivation.
Jul 2019 · 213
The things that tumble out
may ring true, but
in uttering them become a reality.
"Whatever my reasons,
Were they strange or I the stranger, I feel"

how my mind misled me
and misplaced my will
to discern my desire.
Lines Four & Five from the poem Preemptive by the same author.
Jul 2019 · 124
Wanted to tell you in person, but I never told you at all.
I'm not in the right place for this. Sorry.
It was fun. That's all.

Whatever my reasons,
Were they strange or I the stranger, I feel
it'd be wrong to go any further. I want to put a stop to it
but part of me wonders if I shouldn't just
let the humans use each other
like the animals they are.
I hear city nightlife scream
a thrill, raucous, and
unadulterated glee; and I
realize love lost
for a city I once dared lay
a claim to.
Drunken voices
resolve, then pass, fade
into their night. I cannot
feel the love, cannot drink
enough (won't). It hurts less
but what if my ignorance billows
while I am trapped. Where's my ***
drive? Didn't misplace it. There's my ex.
Can't erase this. Buried it. Didn't want t'****
it all up. Look here, aha ha, here I am.
Keep me awake. I'll finish this poem. I'm into some
serious sleep-debt. Willingness
is hurting oneself. A problem's
being too willing to see the other side. Despite misgivings
that've run amok,
I trust my ethics
enough to study the dark arts.
Good morning Roman Countryside.
The City of Rome's dawn
asks kindly would I arise?
Jun 2019 · 825
I catch myself
I wish I would
just be.

I'm hungry,
Could be *****.
Unfulfilled, I ache
with potential; and still

I catch myself
thinking about
Jun 2019 · 207
Pass It Down
I spent much energy

and want to forgive
but ruminate over
it, mulling over
rather than
move on.

Love every ounce
of myself. Make real this
Strive to add to my mental wealth.

The emotional inheritance
my future children, learners
and friends may benefit from.
Strange world, my mad head cooled
after a breath of jungle spice;
That acrid smoke, I
feel better
for having inhaled.
Less than 20mg of DMT
reminded me it's OK to relax;
I forgot that it's good for me,
That it can help with my mental health
and thus my productivity. I went without
for too long, tortured myself out of curiosity.
Today I renewed my love for psychedelics,
Exchanging respects with them.
It remembers who I am
after a dip in
the Lethe.
Jun 2019 · 498
Red Light
I notice that the motions of my mind
are changed
by practices I engage in on my devices.
I observe alterations
in the fabric of my reward system, I feel
movement in reward pathways
that trace back to application content and

all the screen-time. I feel plastic, at a loss

for time, these patterns and tasks. One

could use the help, nevertheless on.
I write with purpose
May 2019 · 257
Throw It Back
Among the company of heroes

in a city of villains.

Being there, immersed
in that strange world, living it
meant something for a time, albeit brief.
Now ask ourselves
what's left?
Vonnegut said "We are what we pretend to be,
So we must be careful about what we pretend to be",
But if you're too careful you'll just become your anxiety.
Whatever of pretense, we question
what is spent.
Quote from Mother Night (1962).
May 2019 · 291
Soothsayer, Remember Now
Part of me would like to go back
and delete
all the pain
and suffering
hastily transcribed
by someone looking
for that real betterness;
But I'll polish it
and let it sit here. Shh,

It's OK
to be in the past
for a time but, what's past
should remain; makes me feel unsafe
when things creep into the present's domain,
Things to make me heave and sigh.
I rest on this chair, in the glib darkness, and
hear the city breeze
of automobiles' afar off accelerations
become those comforting rustles
that carry through the wind.
The dusk sky has dipped.
I'm left wondering
after my travels this weekend.
May 2019 · 237
Are you still there?
A spacious question
asked of the unoccupants.
Empty was the domicile,
No answer, response.
The uninhabitants
had to ante up.
Wasted, deserted,
Kenopsic borderlands.
This is what's left. It is so;
Vast, immense. What
temporal question
will we wander
through next?
May 2019 · 1.1k
Walking through The Square
I could hear anger and anguish
spill out of two drunk quarrelers.

They look about my age.

They're facing each other.
Instinctively I fear for her.
I can make out their words
and that's all it takes.
In an instant I realize
their unfathomable pain.

"I'll never see my child again" she wailed
and he screamed "it doesn't matter",
Their past clinging to them;
Couldn't look away.

"He was so small", she despaired and collapsed
while he stormed off but only managed about 10 paces
before he too threw himself onto the ground and lay crumpled

at the foot of the dry fountain-bed.
How many tragedies have befallen G-town, throughout its history?
People have been here so long. Let me go/away, need to **** this place.
Apr 2019 · 137
"Know Thyself"
"On my temple in Delphi there are two words written:
Know Thyself.

It's good advice,
Know yourself. You are worth knowing.
Examine your life. The unexamined life is not worth living.

Be aware that people have equal significance.
Give them the space to make their own choices, and let their choices count as you want them to let your choices count.

Remember that excellence has no stopping point and keep on pursuing it. Make art that can last and that says something nobody else can say. Live the best life you can, and become the best self you can.

You cannot know which of your actions is the lever that will move worlds. Not even Necessity knows all ends. Know yourself."
from p.364 of The Just City by Jo Walton
Apr 2019 · 136
You Should Write Something
with all those beautiful memories you own,
It'd be a shame not to put them to page
before they fade; but I don't wanna
write right now. I don't feel it.
Yeah. I'ma die alone.
What's a poem

Might microdose some DOB later, if I remember.
Wish me dreams, sweet, strange, or otherwise.
To dream would be it; whatever the content.
Goodnight darling.
Apr 2019 · 215
A few milligrams of escaline, sub-threshold dose
but subtle hints of well-being abound.
I read up on the Yamaha S80 and
jammed some electronica out. Didn't record
anything, and it was so freeing.
I had a brief vision of who I used to
be, it was too third-person to
be a memory; a friendly little fiend, over-enthusiastic
about sessioning, proud of the compounds.
I think I was just happy to be alive.
I was surprised when I realized
the corticosteroid had produced
a mild psychoactive effect in me.
I had not considered how it was
essentially a hormone and thus
could bear on my mood. Strange.
The next day was not unpleasant.
I felt good, confident, energetic, but
most of all, normal; I felt like a man.
This experience near convinced me
of a deficiency in natural hormones.
I wondered whether pharmacology
wasn't the answer, it had found me
once again. Random.
Clobetasol propionate.
And suddenly, for just a second, I saw it
again, beauty in the world, in the sky,
After dusk. Where've you been?
I've been singing, and it's
come back to me;
Kindness begets calm, and
right now I feel like I'm worth it.
Everyone deserves peace. The summer's

approaching, and there's nothing to fear.
I see the glow of streetlights appear as
the last hues of twilight begin to fade
and uncover the stars. It is good to

feel so human
at this point in time,
To feel the return of my
soul into my mind, psyché
once again made whole. Ah, sweet
nightfall. This wellness surprised me.
I dare not ascribe it.
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