G R I D
R____I
I____R
D I R G


The following is fictional, with the exception of the parts that really happened.

Step up one and all. There is a new high. A new compound, a psychotropic – maybe even psychomemetic - that has hit the oil-slicking cobbledy streets: GRID.

The GRID.

GRIDDLE to some, GRIDE to others, and DIGR to initiates and addicts. But most just ride the GRID, or GRID the ride, to monstrous GRIDLOCH where GRIDGRINNING fiends are GRIDDED and GRIDDING and where all concede that the GRID loses all meaning when you lose meaning in the GRID.

No need to load the pipe this time – the rusty residue, crystalline and wrapping in the glass of the GVG was beckoning: torch me and GRID me it whined and gasped. "GRID is as GRID does" I thought as the glass hit lips and the flame angled into the cupped and empty bowl. GRID wisps curlicued in the glass as the rust rendered to vapour and I drew in loooooooong and loooongerrrrrrr…

YOUR BRAIN IS A GRID. YOUR GRID IS A BRAIN.

The darkness takes shape as the GRID lopes about my mind’s grey furls. Colours spew and wrap and out of the detritus surges GRIDLIKE GRIDLOCH monsters from the deep and low, and shapes form and flit in and out of transmission from within the GRID:

Two women, struggling over a basket, one ancient, the second nubile and fresh, a tug of war for the basket, a basket of jimjammy squiggle-wormy rainbow fluid, now serpents, then wires and now edible noodley chromatic implosions, the basket is giving and the women tug, desperate and warring. They spin, mouths agape, arms stretching under the strain, the basket expanding, then contracting, both women, young and old, flashing in and out of cartoon two-dimension to verisimilitudinous i-can-touch-you photorealism, then back to unreal, but now no longer cartoony but made of the stuff in the basket – but not for long before they pop real again then flatten to two dimensional primary reds and yellows and blues, 808ing a rhythm beyond measure and way out there on the edge of the GRID.

The RIDGe.

DIRG THE GRID OR THE GRID SHALL DIRG YOU.

And on and on they fight and tear folds in the fabric of light-time, spin-spinning-spinning and tugging on the basket that holds - yes, I know now, I know why they struggle for it, screaming and clawing and rending through the kaleidoscope – it holds, yes it holds the GRID itself, wrapped in the basket, gyrating and folding and molding and twining and erupting and condensing, the GRID in its entirety, all of it, whole and entrenched in itself, the object of the struggle between old and new, the aged and the newborn, of screams and silence and flesh and rot and being and non-being.

IF THE GRID GIRDS YOU BE SURE TO GIRD THE GRID.

And that is the heart. The fast beating heart of it all, the GRID that beats and beating the beaten GRID as only two warring halves know, and I think – I think I think, but in the GRID who knows what it is to think – I think that what was and is right now, the battle for the basket, is receding and the darkness enveloping again to the slow rhythm of the real and I am slowly back, back from the GRID and back into that other GRID as I lay for a while and open the cogs of my eyes and recognize, with welcoming eyes, I cognize and reCOG, and reCOGnize the cogs that spin and force the mechanism that reconstitutes my room to something familiar that in turn, hides the cogs and the GRID itself.

THE GRID FADES, and fate GRIDS. And grins from within the GRID.

THE GRID IS DEAD, LONG LIVE THE GRID!

Maybe you can demonstrate with a grid

Great stuff jbark. Great stuff..



much love,
tat

GRID? What GRID?

JGRid

"GRIDdle me this, Atman."

Thanks Tattvamasi. I'm GRIDful.

GBArk

https://www.dmt-nexus.me...aspx?g=posts&t=41212

the grid

the GRID is Brahman
and Brahman is Atman

It is thus the GRID pervades.



GRArk

WAFFLE you talking about?


(nice OP btw )

tat tvam asi

Yes, but my GRID is in CAPS, and thus goes to, you guessed it: 11.

11 !!


(but seriously I had read your post and forgotten about it. It reminded me of the DATA STREAM that I had seen and reported about HERE - i think it is in PART 2...)

JBArk

What is it with DMT and grids? Quite a lot of people have posted experiences entitled with the word GRID, including me.

YES! Meaning, cloaked in meaning. And it comes full circle to Tattvamasi's first post above.

I remember that post. HERE it is, for anyone else who may be interested (this is turning into a GRID for all the GRID reports!! )

There was no visible grid in my report - it was actually an idea I had in the chat, and was riffing on the word with others (hostilis et al). Though the grid is an excellent analogy for certain aspects of the experience, to be sure, I have only ever seen a GRID on a high dose of mushrooms, and it didn't last that long, superimposed over the sky and the forest. It was more like a web, but I sensed there were coherent co-ordinates associated with each webbed juncture.

And the DATA STREAM (from this report) was a bit like a GRID also, though more fluid and "streamlike", a river of data, of light and numbers unfamiliar that created and upheld the reality we experience.

GRID stuff!!

GRIdark

I enjoyed.
Never mind about all this grid talk. What"s the story with the ancient and the nubile women struggling with the basket?

Indeed.

Finally someone asks.

Should one look to Freud or Jung for this? Or deep inside or all three? Is it possible we may interpret these experiences much the way we approach dreams, whether or not these experiences surge up from within or, as many believe, from someplace else? Communication by symbol, by archetype, from ourselves to ourself, from beings or presences yonder?

Is the basket me? Torn betwixt youth and age, from both the constituents of my very own organism to the objects of my desires and orgasms? The basket's contents my mind, my consciousness, my spirit, my libido?

The goddess and the mother, the trickster and the wise old man,

Every question but a point on the

GRID