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Saturday, September 27, 2014


As I've touched on, by the time my Mom was in College, at Sam, I was well versed in Mythology, and even had a rudimentary introduction to Neitszche under my belt(one would think that I'd learn how to spell Uncle Friedrich's name, after so many years,lol).
By that time, I had also been immersed in Deluxe Encyclopedia Britannica's exhaustive expositions on Counterculture, Mystery Religion, Social Deviance, and the like.
I had read, and re-read, Campbell's dense and erudite Masks of God, vol. 4, “Creative Mythology”, which has determined a large portion of my reading list for the rest of my life.
So there I was, wandering around a college campus in June—a college that had as one of it's focii “Criminal Justice”, and thus had a rather large collection of everything then known regarding psychoactive substances.
Campbell sent me.
I learned all about Marijuana, the Psychedelics, Cocaine, Amphetemine, the various Opiates, PCP, and the numerous Pharmaceutical concoctions.
The former 2 are what intrigued me the most.
Their association with “Mind Expansion” and the “Ineffable”--with “Direct Access” to...Something...variously, the “Thing Behind the World”, “The Roots of Things”, “The Divine Ground of Being”...
I focused on these because of my interest in Mystery Religions, Philosophy and Roots.
So many years later, when I had occasion to sample my first Joint, I knew that it was, 1. Safer than Beer, and 2. worth whatever risk involved.
Wulf and the Cephalopod had picked me up in Wulf's Blue Chevy Van...I got the hammock, swinging in the back.
We went to a buddy of theirs house on the outskirts...a buddy whose parents were “Cool”, in the parlance of the time.
There were probably a dozen or so other dudes in that buddy's Gameroom, and 2 fat Hoglegs were rolled, and began making their way around the room.
Pink Floyd's “Wish You Were Here” was on a turntable, offset lighting with many candles, and a limited supply of beer...from which I abstained.
The first “Hit” made me cough.
I was encouraged to take another, deeper, Hit...which made me cough like I had never coughed before, and I was HIGH.
Viewing the room and it's contents as if through a gauzy veil, Time slowed to a crawl, the Music(at this point, “Shine On You Crazy Diamond,2”) was palpable...a Physical Presence in the room, more real than the laughing, more experienced users...The Taste, not only in my mouth...but in my Nose...for the first time, Smell was so intimately connected with Taste...
Here was what I had been reading about for so many years.
I was given “The Roach”...and the next day, alone, (a Sunday), I walked into the woods, between the Water Tower and the Football Stadium, and smoked it in my Dad's ancient Briar Pipe.
Sat there, under a Tree.
After that, I always preferred(Still Do) to partake of such things in Natural Settings(per Leary, at the Sam Houston Library).
Two years later, after I was long done with High School, when Pokey and Roqufort and I were living in the little apartment, I was given a Hit of LSD.
I took it, and went home, fearful of what Pokey would say...and ended up with what I would later understand to be a “Bad Trip”, afraid that she would somehow know, and disapprove.
Some months later, after finally discussing the matter with both of them, we procured three Hits, and took them at the apartment.
Waiting...anticipating...finally getting Bored...we piled in my Little Red Truck and went for a Cruise.
At the Railroad Crossing in the tiny adjacent town, we stopped for a train to pass.
That's when it hit.
The passing railcars melded into each other, and we were was time to make our way home.
This was accomplished with giggles, in spite of the apprehension...very careful driving...hyper-aware of everything.
We went skinny dipping in the Pool(it was after midnight), and Pokey and I repaired to our room, and had the best sex ever.
After these two experiences with Acid, I began to treat it, almost almost accidentally, as a sort of Sacrament.
It was serious business...whereas Pot was the “Lesser Mystery”...meant for Relaxation and Sociality.
This “Greater Mystery” was better when approached with Respect and after suitable Preparation.
Set and Setting.

In contrast, all of the Stoners were after Escape...Forgetting...Unthought.
They were seeking Release from the less than Optimal circumstances of their lives; from crazy parents to abusive uncles to broken homes and economic dysfunction.
I was after Enlightenment...and the Acid Parties I'd put on, later, were meant to accomplish just that.
Much later, during my Wild Years, I went way over the line...far from the this Quest.
Tequila, LSD, Pot and Psilocybin...those years on the Road were an exercise in Beyond.
Like Kesey's “Further”.(I didn't read Wolfe's “electric koolaide acid test” or any Kesey, till much, much later...but when I did, I knew exactly what they were talking about.)
After the Wild Years, at Miami Apartments at Sam, the Shroomcicle Summer was a continuation of the Experiment...a three month long Shroomfest participated in by a disparate collection of cultures and races and life-experiences:
Redneck Prison Guards, Rich College Kids, a Tribe of Black Folks, Palestinians, and Future FBI Agents(!!)...all swirling around the Complex, centered on the Pool and on my place.
I had expected to continue all of this once I arrived in Austin...but, aside from a few isolated Psychonautic Excursions, as extreme and intense as any, this period was done.
By the time of the Trailer Park, I was overcome with not only disappointment at the sad, yuppified state of Austin, but with the felt encirclement of being surrounded by too many people.
Add in the Uphill Nature of attempting to “Make a Living”, and I wanted nothing more than to retreat to some Wilderness area.
The PTSD from the Cop Persecution was asserting itself, and the all encompassing Otherness...Alien-Hood...that I had always felt, was growing unbearable.
It is only now, 20 years later, that I feel Strong enough to “Go There”, again.
The problem, of course, is where to procure Psilocybe Cubensis.
Wasson, Hoffman and Ruck's remarkable book, which I haven't read since that Summer at Sam Houston, when I was 13, just came in the mail.
30th Anniversary Printing.
It's been out of print and impossible to find for all these years.
“Road to Eleusis” is essential reading, for an understanding of Myth and Religion, in my own opinion.
I have sort of confirmed their assertions, in my own experiences.
What I have never found in any Church, I found in Psychedelia...and even in the Lingering Long Term “Attitude” that such substances can impart to one so inclined.
The River, the big, sprawling and ancient Oak, the Hilltop...
These are the True Churches, for me...and this is directly attributable to Learning How... taught, with Subtle Forcefulness, by various Psychoactive Alkaloids.

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