On magic mushrooms, Guy spends an evening assembling/reassembling his mind, personality and life-course.
I was sitting in a park, the night sky was clear, bright even, illuminated by the fullness of the rising moon. I was excited! I had just eaten seven magic-mushrooms and was onto my second beer. I had about thirty minutes left before my constructed reality would come crumbling down… Things were looking up.
I had found a nice place to sit, directly in the centre of the large, rectangular football fields that this park was famous for.
I was entering the gestation period of the trip, the fruits of insanity were beginning to emerge. Giggles, smiles and uncontrollable desires. Fantasies were running through my mind, stories, parables and prophecies. The veritable playground that is the human brain was opening up.
I sat and rolled my head from side-to-side…
Fuck! It was a weeknight. Fuck! It was the middle of winter. That left only one reason for this searing, artificial brightness… Fucking football practice. Fucking plebeians!
“Idiots, societies own bona-fide wastes-of-space.” — One
“Don’t say that, they don’t know any better…” — Two
“Who the fuck, thinks a good way to pass-time, is to play fucking sport?” — One
“No seriously, don’t say that, you are no different to them, you’re out here passing-time… They are out here…
Passing-time.” — Two
“Well at least I’m doing something personally fucking constructive!” — One
“That may be so, however, that may only be so… For you…” — Two
“I see your point…” — One
“Good! Be humble! Don’t judge others because of our differences.” – Two
Walking up the hill and out of the park. Must have been the psilocybin talking, couldn’t be anything else…
Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue…
Augmenting my inner-monologue…
Anyway, when in doubt, blame the drugs.
Walking back home was an intriguing experience. Being mid-winter in Melbourne, it had been dark since about 5:30pm and darkness always does lead to the streets becoming a haven for scoundrels. Scoundrels, who seemed to be just like me…
Criminals, vagrants and hooligans… Just like me. Roaming under the cover of darkness. It was definitely not the hour for, ‘our good-people’. Our upstanding, our flag-waving, our home-owning, our family-rearing…
Good-people. I mean, who knows what the thugs and gangs could do to them at night?
The last few scraps of, these good-people, rushed into their mortgaged-living-arrangements. Though in my altered-mind-state, they, did not even register.
I had grown preoccupied by thoughts of bubbles. Bubbles to shield, bubbles to stop… Bubbles to pro-tect. Bubbles which stopped any nasty-outsider-perspective from entering the minds and the lives of, our good-people.
“Silly bubble people…” — One
“Where’s your bubble?” — Two
“I’ve lost mine, it must be the mushrooms… When in doubt blame the drugs.” — One
“Did you really lose your bubble, or have you simply not built one?” —Two
“I don’t know, all I know is I don’t want one!” — One
“But the bubbles help us become one of, the good-people, one of ‘everyone-else’.” — Two
“Not interested! I want to connect, not isolate myself under the guise of connection.” — Three
Two was company… It’s getting crowded in my head now. Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Anyway, when in doubt, blame the drugs.
I was a few blocks away from my house and it had become necessary to lie-down. No more of, our good-people to see, that was something to be thankful for! But why was I horizontal? Oh yes, the flowers. I had seen flowers and I had decided they looked best from a position, perpendicular to the ground. Such beauty, I thought… It really was something else!
Flowers wilted, everything started to get very fast. I had sprung to my feet, I had been overtaken by a desire to be petted like a kitten. In my mind a lovely woman was holding me on her lap, caringly stroking my back, my back was arched, the next pat, heaven, I purred, a long and deep pur.
Go home! Roll a joint! Lie down and stare at the stars!
Well, I mean, sure… Why not?
I didn’t know why not, at least not yet, but when I opened the door to my house it all became abundantly clear.
I had entered a room full of energy… Life-forces and apparitions, everywhere. I introduced myself to the life-forces, hi, hello, it’s a pleasure… It seemed as if we had all met many times before, except no-one or at least no-thing could place when or where. Conversations flowed left, right and every-which-way. Sure, my plans for solitude had ceased the second I had opened that door, but hey, who cares? I was at a fucking party in my head!
“Mate! How are ya?” — One
“Good man, yaself?” — Two
“Yeah, fucking great mate.” — Three
“Yeah, fucking nice!” — Four
“Fucking niiiice!!” — Five
“Yeah, fucking nice work, dick-head!” — Six
“Yeah, fuck off, dick-head!” — Seven
“Mate, do I know you from somewhere?” — Eight
“Yeah mate, we met at Six’s last year.” — Nine
“Oh yeah, want a beer mate?” — Ten
“Well how the fuck are ya?” — Eleven
“Yeah good mate, do I know you from somewhere?” — Twelve
“I dunno maate, maybe, do you know Four?” — Thirteen
“Yeah, that blokes a dog mate.” — Fourteen
“Yeah, nah, she’s alright mate!” — Fifteen
“You got a durrie man?” — Sixteen
“Nah, I quit!” — Seventeen
“Yeah fucking ok then, fuckin’ cheers cunt!” — Eighteen
“Who the fuck was that bloke?” — Nineteen
“No fucking clue mate, never seen him before in my life!” — Twenty
“Mate, I am the fucking king.” — Twenty One
“Yeah mate!” — Twenty Two
“Yeah… You wanna fucking go me mate!?” — Twenty Three
It was all a bit much and growing evermore aggressive.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” — One
All I could think was… Fuck!
There were a lot of them now. They had to quieten down at some stage, didn’t they? Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Anyway, when in doubt, blame the drugs.
A period of deep-internal-reflection followed… Self-assessment and re-assessment… Self-assessment and re-assessment… Self-assessment and re-assessment, endless…
The party had died down. As I looked around the house I could see evidence of party-life-forces everywhere.
Someone had opened four beers and left them on the bench, otherwise untouched, there they remained…
Someone had left the oven on, empty, with it’s door open, well warmth is important… Someone had vomited in the shower, yellowing stomach-acid everywhere… Fiends!
The kind of party, where someone had felt it necessary to show-off…
A demonstration of their position at the top of the totem-poll of gender, sexuality and social-hierarchy… The kind of party where true legends are born and the weak run for their lives… That kind of party.
The non-existent party; the inner workings of my own mind–manifest. The non-existent party; my behavioural patterns – put to rest… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue… Augmenting my inner-monologue…
I had been outwardly confident for years, I had seldom given the worries I was carrying, the time of day. For without acknowledgment, how could these worries even be real?
Worries… Do I present as if I am one of them? Do they think my opinions and ideas are acceptable? If I stand tall and broad, then, will I be seen as masculine? Why do they all yell at each other? Why do they know what to say? Why…? Worries and nothing more.
During my trip, I had been presented with the uglier side of my innermost fears. A fear of how others perceive me…
Every voice, every character and every personality of my then augmented-inner-monologue was seemingly a different facet of this fear. I had seen it to be the kind of fear that creates stagnancy. If this fear drives your decision-making, then how could you ever grow to reach your full potential? You would grow no further, than that which others perceived you could.
I had been lucky enough to have be presented with a personal necessity. The necessity to detach. Detachment from the self-imposed traps of “what will they think of me if I do this?” or “will they think highly of me, for doing this?”.
Detachment, just what I need…
It was midnight, no lights were on, but someone was definitely home.
As I sat there and ate my third packet of chocolate biscuits.
It all seemed so clear…
Why hadn’t I seen it before? The decisions I had been making and the showboating that had been done – all just a result of an inability to create my own life-choices.
As I sat there and ate my third packet of chocolate biscuits, it all seemed so clear…
No lights were on, but someone was definitely home.