“HE WHO MAKES
A BEAST OF HIMSELF
GETS RID OF THE PAIN
OF BEING A MAN.”
Well Doc, if I MAY BE SO BOLD: I would swap out “beast” for “cartoon character” and, hey presto, you got me. . . .
Though hey, I wouldn’t mind being a beast . . . and maybe that comes later~
Speaking of making yourself something else: I was talking to my friend a bit ago, and maybe I shouldn’t mention his name, so I won’t, and I said: Did that son of a bitch you know get his hands on any mescaline? My friend’s friend, apparently, is the go-to guy for mescaline and peyote. I had been asking for a few months now to no avail, so maybe the well has run dry. All of my life, I can’t seem to locate the stuff, nor peyote for that matter, which of course is the parent of mescaline. I couldn’t even find a fucking hallucinogenic cactus when I lived in Texas, for shit’s sake! What’s the deal? And my friend said, you know, his friend, he’s working on it. I sure do appreciate that. And apparently my friend’s friend said that in the meantime he could “teach” me how to make mescaline if I really wanted to know. I’m terrified of poisoning myself, though hell, I said I’d take the recipe if he’s got it lying around.
I saw him today, you know, my friend, while driving through Temescal, which is the quote-unquote hip part of North Oakland on Telegraph Avenue. He was crossing the street near Koryo Village. I rolled down my window and screamed something about mescaline. He gave me a thumbs up! I’ve known this son of a bitch for something like ten years, so I reckon at that point you can get away with things like this, not that it’s ever stopped me before. . . .
Well: Here’s hoping. I can’t keep asking because I’ve asked enough. Once I get the stuff I’m thinking I might drive to Santa Cruz and get freaked out by myself . . . just let it bleed red, and all that, in a forested place. Though I suppose I wouldn’t mind it if someone came along with me. I’m gonna get as much of this stupid crap as I can, so I’ll bet I’ll have extra, in which case let us dream wide awake side-by-side . . . let us pass through dimensions! . . . one foot in this place and the other world, and maybe others between.
Hmmm. I know someone I can ask, and I’ll bet she’d go. If you’re reading this, my friend, you went to UC Santa Cruz. And we lived together some years ago now. You wanna come??
That’s enough about mescaline for now I suppose. Really at this point I’ll try just about anything. Uppers, downers, screamers, laughers . . . why the hell not. I’m having a real good time over here, which is why I haven’t been writing as much. I gotta write more and still get spooky, and then I will be living in the dreamworld I hope to glimpse on capsuled peyote dust. You know what they say:
GOOD FOR HEALTH
BAD FOR EDUCATION
Finally, I wrote a missed connection for the first time in a long time. I just like writing them is all. This happened last Sunday when I was getting breakfast with my friend li’l Stevie, who I met in Portland years ago, and who is real cool and lives here now.
Have I incriminated myself enough yet? Maybe so. I have made myself a beast, at any rate. So long for now, jerks!!!!!!!!!