i don't usually like to talk much about what i encounter in hyperspace. most of the time i feel anything i see there was pretty much meant for me, and therefore keep it to myself... we all have our own lessons to learn, right?...
but last night...
i've encountered four distinct entities previously...
Shadow Guy: only a shape, he thanked me once for turning off a (real-world) light.
The Little Girl: translucent skin made of a gazillion points of iridescent light. she kneels, drawing nurture from my candles... she told me once: "you should put down that pipe, shit's about to get weird." & it did, with the emergence of
Marla Singer: not really Marla, but that's the best descrip i can put on her... very much a black & white entity in a technicolor world... she likes to be chased...
Flash Card Guy: this guy is a seriously recurring creature... always stands behind me, & sticks his flash cards in my face... he only has two, one is pure light... the other, non-existence... & not depictions of non-existence, but rather inside that card is never-having-existed... but anyway...
i get those cats... i kinda know where they're coming from, & i think i'm beginning to interpret their message... but this guy last night...
first off, i started outside... packed a changa/DMT/changa bowl... my changa is 6x Caapi, Mullein, Damiana, Blue Lotus, Calea Zacatechichi & Sinicuichi... i like it a lot... my spice is solid... i use a sherlock bubbler, and i loaded it large, because i was looking for a large experience...
5 am back porch... lawn chair, 2 oriental hell-hound type statues with a small candle between them... 4 tokes... one huge expel of lung-junk & SHAZAM!!!! here we go... the hell hounds are old, old friends... been with me 20+ years... & last night they were just as unfriendly as i've ever seen a beast, with the candle pulsating between them & hyperspace rushing at me... so i blew the candle out (quite a heroic effort) & made my attempt to regain the interior of my house...
think Depp & Del Toro as Duke & Gonzo, walking on ether... & i'm pretty sure i looked sillier than that... got halfway to the couch & heard my french door close behind me, & a female voice say "you're welcome.".. turned to check her out, but she wasn't... so i turned to finish my 8 foot marathon voyage to the couch...
well, there's the Bic Pen dude... the guy on yr lighter... with one eye, kinda like Kenny from SouthPark... except he's dancing a Russian kind of dance, all squat, with one leg kicking out after another... he's dancing on the spot in my kitchen where my broom is laying across the floor, out of place... except the broom isn't there anymore, it's on his back, in place of his usual writing instrument...
usually when i look directly at an entity, they go away, or back to the perimeter at least... so i try to look at them indirectly... but Bic Pen man was having none of that... i'd look away, and he would stop dancing, immediately, & grab the area where his nose would be if he had a nose... he'd then stretch his arm out, pulling his face into a shape that made him look more like Spy vs. Spy... except his arm didn't stop stretching... he was inordinately tall (over 10 feet) to begin with (which is nice, considering my 8 foot ceilings... but then, who ever claimed that physics apply in hyperspace?) & his arm just kept stretching forever, or at least until i looked back at him... then he resumed dancing on the spot where my broom wasn't supposed to be in the first place...
all i've been able to gather from this is that homeboy was really upset about my broom being out of place... maybe that's enough, who the hell knows anyway?..
Leon Trout attached the following image(s):
dispatch_bic.gif
(94kb) downloaded 332 time(s). 200px-Spy-vs-spy.png
(53kb) downloaded 329 time(s).spinning a set the stars through which the tattered tales of axis roll about the waxen wind of never set to motion in the unbecoming round about the reason hardly matters nor the wise through which the stars were set in spin...
"Chemistry is applied theology." Augustus Owsley Stanley III