The newly adapted series to Neil Gaimain’s American Gods just released today and it is phenomenal. It’s everything that it should be and nothing more. I’ve never seen a more faithful adaptation. But that’s not really my point with this post.
It has dawned on me that Neil Gaiman has become my absolute favorite author. I didn’t realize this until I thought back to all of the novels that I’ve read by him. You can go back and see my post where I was first reading his stuff.
It’s a bit hazy now but I believe American Gods was the first book of his that I read. The Sandman next. Then Neverwhere. Or maybe the other way round. Either way, I’ve been systematically going through his bibliography and have yet to be disappointed. He deserves all the praise he has received.
He makes it all seem so easy. He hardly uses words that you are unfamiliar with, and if so it is easily divined through context. His plots are very natural and organic. Everything has its place and feels real.
He’s a genius, basically.
I’m glad I’ve found him. Or maybe it’s he who’s found me.
I’m reading through a Neil Gaiman biographic and in one section (lie, many sections) he’s talking about the impetus for his writing career. And of course it forces me think about my own path. And I think I have found one constant:
I want to do my own thing.
That’s it. It doesn’t matter if it’s writing, or music, or psychology, metaphysics, whatever. If it’s something I came up with and chose to do, I’m happy. If it turns out sucking, I’ll change to something else. But it’s this freedom to stop doing one thing and start doing another that is enticing. I don’t believe in restrictions and I don’t like being told how to think/speak/behave. Those are my own to divine and no one else.
And right now I just want to be lazy and read books.
Seventy-four years ago Albert Hofmann intentional took a drug he created called LSD. He took what he thought was only going to give him minor effects but underestimated its potency and mistakenly took a very large dose indeed.
Thus the first LSD trip was documented by the scientist who birthed it. The far-reaching effects of this discovery are still being felt today. Take note that little ol’ me is writing this post discussing it.
He wasn’t even trying to make an hallucinogenic drug. In my mind, this seems to imply he was working within the Tao. In Taoist traditions, one is “in balance” with the universe when one does not strive. When things are felt directly and then naturally left to unfold. The more one tries to control the world, the less control he has.
Since he stumbled upon this discovery, and the fact that it has had such a large impact, asserts to me that this was bound to happen. If not him, then someone else. But that this chemical, and the others like it, is needed for our planets survival.
There comes a point where if I eat enough mushrooms the veil to reality is removed. Lying beyond this wall is a being of supranatural power. She is a mirror and shows your karmic debt instantly. Every thought. Repeated. Emotion. Amplified. Fear. Terrorized. Love. Blissed.
You realize that life is nothing but a karmic simulation. You reap what you sow, so sow something beautiful or mire in your own shit.
Someone on Reddit posted this pic and it inspired a discussion about Salvia and it’s effects. Salvia is just fucking weird. There are certain qualities that are common to a psychedelic experience. Salvia defies them all. It takes thought and perception, twists and contorts those concepts, then fucks with your own processing of those distortions.
It’s akin to dreaming, but fully alert. You’re just fucked beyond all recognition. Nothing makes any sense and you have no ability to make sense of anything anyway. You become a passenger to this moving train of thoughts, images, and fears, all of which are completely and utterly out of your control. All you can do is succumb to the process and hold on for dear life.
One time I smoked Salvia I placed the bong down in front of me and blew out smoke. I didn’t smoke enough to be blown out of this cosmos but it started fucking with me anyway. I looked down at the crease in my pant legs and believed to be viewing large distant mountains. I looked at the cloud of smoke and believed myself to be a particle of smoke. The bong was my home and it was my mission to get back there.
Somebody once told me they became the wallpaper and were viewing the room from this new perspective. Another started waving his arms out to his side and ran around the room. He later told me he was flying. I’ve looked down at myself and seen my own body lying on the bed. I’ve seen a room shrink and disappear only to be replaced by a vast nothingness that is cold, dark and hungry. It holds you down for as long as it can and sucks the living soul from your flesh so when you return you’re nothing but a baby in a brand new world.
Salvia man. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya.
I had the most difficult time sleeping last night, or rather attempting to do so. I lay down in bed around midnight and for the next eight hours I think I totaled less than an hour’s worth of legitimate sleep.
Around 7 or 8 am though I did manage to sleep. And dream.
I dreamt that I was back at my old home in Chatsworth, CA. I have dreamed of this location numerous times, probably in the hundreds or close to it. Whenever I dream of this location the usual themes crop up: running (from what, who knows), searching (once again, no idea what for), and a bit of exploration. There are gates on either side of the house that section the backyard from the front yard. Usually I find myself navigating some sort of pattern into and through the house, into the back yard, around the house, around the block, etc. Always meandering and circling, much like this post so far.
Well last night it changed for the first time in years. A bunch of shit and drama happened that I now have no recollection but what I do remember is this. One of my bosses was helping me with something I needed assistance with. I entered the garage and started to fiddle with something. He comes over and tells me another way of doing it. I continue doing it my way and he becomes furious. He no longer wishes to help. I go over and talk to him and try to see if I can smooth things over but this just escalates the situation and I end up throwing in the towel and quitting (even though I wasn’t even working at the time).
Well after quitting I start hightailing it around the block. As soon as I start running around the first corner I throw my jacket to the floor so that I can run faster (apparently I am now in my work uniform although I don’t believe I was earlier). A woman I have never seen before starts chasing me with her hands outstretched. She is holding a red rose. She calls for me to stop. I keep running.
A few blocks down she is still begging me to stop but I persist. She starts to slow down and turn away, giving up chase. I feel bad and turn around and ask her what she wants. She wishes to show me a house and I get the feeling that perhaps sex is not out of the question. Her house is not far and inside is her husband/lover/whatever and he is naked and just sitting there waiting for us. He has the biggest balls I have ever seen, like literally 3 or 4 feet in diameter. I find this fascinating and wake up.
My gym is forming a team for softball this year and I took the plunge and signed up. I haven’t played in 15 years or more and I wasn’t particularly good then. I was hoping that I’d find myself magically better with zero practice. Yeah, right.
I still suck but that’s fine. I suck at everything I try at first. Then I struggle with it until I suck a little less. Rinse. Repeat. I just hope that I can get better before we start actually playing games.
Knowing full well my (in)abilities I still chose to sign up. I did this for two reasons: one, because these guys are my friends and I know they won’t belittle me, and two, to face my fear. I’ve been afraid of the ball since forever and it turns out that’s still the same. There’s only one way I’m gonna get over that.
Here’s to growth.