Trippin' Balls

"When I consider the short duration of my life, swallowed up in the eternity before and after, the little space which I fill, and even can see -- engulfed in an infinite immensity of spaces of which I am ignorant and which know me not, I am frightened, and am astonished at being here rather than there, for there is no reason why here rather than there, why now rather than then. The eternal silence of these infinite spaces frightens me..."

That about sums it up.

The acid trip was amazing. After the year and a half of research on the drug, and after years of major soul searching, I decided I wanted to try it--try something that has defined the 'free, peace-loving' 60s for oh-so-long. For about 10 hours I handed over my reality to acid on a small, single piece of green blotter paper. The setting made the trip extremely enjoyable; I was surrounded by some of my closest friends, and the love felt in the room was astonishing. Scott being there just helped that much more.

Vanessa and Eric munched on shrooms, whilst Cindy and I each took a hit of LSD. Anxiety rose and my stomach rolled over within 30 minutes--I could feel the drug taking hold. Ordinary objects took on new dimensions; what was once a white ceiling turned into a window which allowed me to view a whole new world expanding as far as the imagination could see.

Cindy took her anxiety out on various things, like breaking things ("I'm sorry, I just broke your pencil into four pieces"), and much pacing was done by her in the halls. Paper was put into my mouth by another form of me; I needed it in my mouth. Random words and phrases and a conglomerate of thoughts flowed (disjointedly) from my mouth.

Vanessa, Cindy and I decided to go play out in the snow--barefoot. I've never felt anything like it; it was like I was one with the snow (as clichéd as that sounds). In our altered states of reality, we found out many things hidden from us about our house: there was the Forty Licks tongue that was vaguely painted on our common room closet; we found a gecko on the ceiling of our bathroom; the floor felt like there were hundreds of "dead babies" crawling underneath.

The carpets and walls all showed their true selves. Friends in old photographs moved as if that moment in history was happening right now. Stars, on the ceiling, danced. Invisible frogs showed themselves on trees. The road had coloured arrows pointing to and fro. Colourful snakes intertwined between fractals. The list goes on.

Whilst on the drug, I did much reflecting. I'm not going to bore you with all my pseudo-, drug induced epiphanies--but I will say this: to be part of the counter-culture in the 60s must have been an amazing feeling. Contrasting my current experience with that of those researched was an incredible feeling.

Though, on the drug, I could see how bad trips might arise. I respect acid so much, thanks to the research, and this caused me to just let the drug flow through me--not controlling it in the least.

Since the trip said its goodbyes, I've continued to reflect. I almost don't want to do the drug again because it seems impossible to achieve the almost-perfect affect that I experienced on Saturday. I do know that I will do LSD again, but not for awhile. I really can't see myself becoming one of those acid heads who drop every week to every month. Hell, I decided two days ago that I'm giving up pot for at least a month, and when that month is up, I'm going to strongly limit my pot usage to at least once a week.

The perfect setting for dropping acid would be in a beautiful park, surrounded by water and trees and where the green grass flows all around you--which we're going to find. (Kingston in the summer was beautiful, by the water). We'll drop the drug late enough so we can experience the sunset as well as the stars. Oh, that would be beautiful.