Koornut
Rising Star
My very best friend and I, who had recently moved into my house, chanced upon some seasonal P. Subaeruginosa last night. What a pleasant surprise. A typical Winter night in Melbourne, cold. We had a fire though, but little did we know then it would be somewhat ignored and unnecessary as the evening unfolded.
Nature was on our side, a wiff of breeze blew opaque clouds across the full moon, the garden was dancing.
We ingested 4 grams each; My friend blended his up with some Bundaberg creamy soda, it looked like a glass of whipped blood. I ate mine as is, I enjoy the taste. The uncomfortable texture and mouth feel is readily overcome with thoughts of eating a preying mantis as those feline jungle cats might do some time in the distant past.
It's interesting to note the difference in experience between my friend and I, given the differences in the methods of ingestion.
He certainly fell deep into the experience sooner than I, swiftly directing my attention to the wonderful lunar corona that was surrounding the moon. It was spectacular, I was instantly transcended to his level as we shared that rare sight. A lightning bolt in a web of sound/light was cutting a triangle between the moon, my friend and I. I love them. We looked at each other and smiled.
Each movement was a spontaneous burst of choreography that was both intuitive and surprising as the night progressed. I tied some twine to the neck of my guitar for mobility, and ceremonially tested the acoustics of sound/light in each room of the weatherboard house. It has incredible resonance. Mouth noises escaped me as I lost myself in the sound/light. A voice, but not one I'd heard before, was humming a melancholy through the hall. A second voice, familiar this time, and far improved in skill since last I heard it. This was my voice? I'm sure, locked away behind white stone walls and released now, here. I was brimming.
The rhythm of the piano cut geometries through my office as we sat to smoke the first Mary of the evening.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My goodness.
The fire!
We rekindled the hearth and sat around, red wine at the ready. With golfs balls?
How did we get these?
It looks like a tiny Mogwli from gremlins, ready to hatch.
No. It looks like the moon, if it were to contain all the light from all the stars.
Etc. Etc.
Time passes. It appears.
Slow but quick.
I'm melting.
Tobacco is a bad idea. But a thrilling rollercoaster if you know it's song.
The bottle is finished already?
Quick! To the pen and paper room!
Did you just go to the kitchen?
Yes and No.
I found a banana but it feels like a flaccid cock in my mouth.
Thats unfortunate.
:lol:
Back to the fire!
I have a magnifying glass, from Zelda.
A CAMERA OBSCURA!
Needless to say this was not a particularly profound experience. But thoroughly enjoyable. I love my friend.
Nature was on our side, a wiff of breeze blew opaque clouds across the full moon, the garden was dancing.
We ingested 4 grams each; My friend blended his up with some Bundaberg creamy soda, it looked like a glass of whipped blood. I ate mine as is, I enjoy the taste. The uncomfortable texture and mouth feel is readily overcome with thoughts of eating a preying mantis as those feline jungle cats might do some time in the distant past.
It's interesting to note the difference in experience between my friend and I, given the differences in the methods of ingestion.
He certainly fell deep into the experience sooner than I, swiftly directing my attention to the wonderful lunar corona that was surrounding the moon. It was spectacular, I was instantly transcended to his level as we shared that rare sight. A lightning bolt in a web of sound/light was cutting a triangle between the moon, my friend and I. I love them. We looked at each other and smiled.
Each movement was a spontaneous burst of choreography that was both intuitive and surprising as the night progressed. I tied some twine to the neck of my guitar for mobility, and ceremonially tested the acoustics of sound/light in each room of the weatherboard house. It has incredible resonance. Mouth noises escaped me as I lost myself in the sound/light. A voice, but not one I'd heard before, was humming a melancholy through the hall. A second voice, familiar this time, and far improved in skill since last I heard it. This was my voice? I'm sure, locked away behind white stone walls and released now, here. I was brimming.
The rhythm of the piano cut geometries through my office as we sat to smoke the first Mary of the evening.
Inhale.
Exhale.
My goodness.
The fire!
We rekindled the hearth and sat around, red wine at the ready. With golfs balls?
How did we get these?
It looks like a tiny Mogwli from gremlins, ready to hatch.
No. It looks like the moon, if it were to contain all the light from all the stars.
Etc. Etc.
Time passes. It appears.
Slow but quick.
I'm melting.
Tobacco is a bad idea. But a thrilling rollercoaster if you know it's song.
The bottle is finished already?
Quick! To the pen and paper room!
Did you just go to the kitchen?
Yes and No.
I found a banana but it feels like a flaccid cock in my mouth.
Thats unfortunate.
:lol:
Back to the fire!
I have a magnifying glass, from Zelda.
A CAMERA OBSCURA!
Needless to say this was not a particularly profound experience. But thoroughly enjoyable. I love my friend.
