Bicycle Day

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.

She follows.

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.


For whatever reason bullies absolutely love me (or hate me, whichever). It’s probably because I don’t stand up for myself when I’m being picked on. I’ll just let it slide and move on. But bullies see this as ripe opportunity and keep pressing. It’s incredibly tiring to just sit there and take it but calling them out seems unlikely to solve anything. Perhaps I’m wrong though.

Either way, I’ve realized male dominated arenas are probably not the best place for me. Not enough empathy and way too much dick waving. No thanks.


For our workout today we had to do the crossfit open 17.2. The workout was posted about a week in advance so I knew we’d be attempting it.

The workout requires performing a move called a bar muscle up.  I had never previously attempted this and was curious if it was something I’d be able to pull off.

Turns out I couldn’t but I was able to do one while standing from a box. It’s still not easy but helps with the development of proper form.

I was able to do three right before the workout so my instructor said she’d lower the height a little.  I wasn’t sure that was such a good idea as I knew I’d be fatiguing by the time I got to them, but you just go with it.

It takes about 7 minutes or so but eventually I get to the portion with muscle ups.  I go for the first one. Not even close.  Give it another try. Even worse.  I’m pretty sure I can’t do it but I’m being yelled at to go again so I do.  Third, fourth, and fifth are no better.  It doesn’t look like this is gonna happen today.

But still I’m being told I can do it.  I don’t necessarily believe that I can but I don’t want to give up either.

I go for it one more time and finally get my first one.  And then again on my next attempt. And the next one. Once I learned the proper movement I was able to get six of them in a row.  And I find that incredible; not necessarily my own ability, but simply the way that our brains are wired: something that once seemed impossible is now not only achievable, but with relative ease still.


About 5 years ago I was feeling exceptionally sad (I was sad often back then) and pulled out my guitar to grind out some of my frustration. Within the span of 10 minutes I had jammed out and written a song, the first I had ever produced for guitar.

It wasn’t a very complex song and mostly consisted of power chords and harmonics, but I was proud of it, if only because it was my first one.

Over the next few years I would continually play this song to myself. I never played it for other people because I didn’t think it was very good but I kept playing it alone because it brought me satisfaction. I had been longing for days past when I was the bassist for another band and this was the closest I could get to that experience.

I eventually began working out and gathering more energy. I searched for a drummer and started rewriting it with an emphasis on the drum parts. The structure stayed very similar to the original idea, but with a few flourishes. Over the course of six months I watched as this idea turned into a legitimate song, an experience I hold very close to my heart.  I was no longer simply a “wannabe” in my own mind but an actual “musician.”

I should probably point out that the impetus to finding a drummer began while I was high on MDMA.  I was with a group of friends and thought it would be a good idea to play my song for them. It was the first time I’d ever seriously played guitar in front of anyone. Usually if I knew someone could be listening, I’d dumb myself down so they couldn’t tell how much I was feeling it.  Not this time however. Given the circumstances, I gave the performance everything I had. I played the song as if there were nobody else listening.

And a beautiful thing happened: I let go. I stopped holding in. I stopped hiding my love, my fear, my frustrations, my worries. I channeled them into music and emerged reborn.

At the end of the song everyone was praising my playing and letting me know how good it was. I still didn’t believe them but I trusted that they were sincere.

Fast forward to 6 months of playing, working and reworking the song with a drummer. Eventually we got it to a point where I felt satisfied that the song was not only good, but complete.  We set out to record it as you would in a studio: break up the song into chunks and then build it piecemeal. First the drums. Then the guitar. Then more guitar overlayed. Then bass. Eventually it’s at a point where it sounds like a full band, yet it’s only two people still. Right as I’m putting the finishing touches on this piece I get ahold of some 4-aco-dmt (a synthetic analogue to psilocybin mushrooms) and get an idea.

We started off by splitting it in half and each consuming a piece. I plugged our instruments into the recorder and then we started playing. There were no words spoken as to what we should play, but we ended up playing some of our best shit ever.

First we started with some jams. It was mostly just noise and intensity, but we enjoyed playing them and had fun with it. Near the end of our last jam I realized it needed to wrap up somehow so I went into the ending of our aforementioned song and we ended up spontaneously coming up with a neat new way to playing that ending.  We noted that this ending could be used instead of the way we had previously written it.

The intro was previously written with a drum part that plays a tribal beat. But when we played it under the given circumstances he was inspired to play it a new way.  I immediately fell in love with this new rendition and just went along with it. We played the song passionately and with many improvisations until we came to the ending. The ending we had previously come up with during the earlier jam. I had completely forgotten that we were going to try this so that when the drummer started playing it I just played along as best I could. We ended up writing the perfect ending right there on the spot on our first go.

So my point is this: this song, from inception to finale, could not exist as it does now without the use of drugs. The ecstasy alleviated my fear of inadequacy and playing in front of others, and the 4-aco-dmt enabled us to reshape the texture of our songs in the heat of the moment. I believe these songs are objectively better because of our experimentation with these chemicals.

I grew up being told “drugs are bad” and believed them. For a while. But the older I get the more I see how wrong they were.  Drugs and music can be a beautiful union and I will fight for our right to use them until I die.

And even then some.


Normally when I want to get something the first thing I do is figure out how I can buy it. It doesn’t matter if it’s something I can do on my own, if it’s faster I’ll pay.

This time however it was actually faster for me to do it myself. The stereo shop would have taken almost a week due to high volume of business. I was able to do it myself in a few days. It was also cheaper as well. Learned a few things with the help of friends and internet. I now feel confident to do this entirely on my own the next time I am in the mood to upgrade.

Sweet deal.