Totes Amazeballs. What a retarded phrase! It is has been mashed together from other acceptable words to form the ugly yet somewhat addictive monster (I stress addictive in the sense I use it ironically, mocking other fools).
It makes an acceptable name for the following blog entry though as it too is a retarded mesh of crap.
The proceeding post was written around 3 weeks ago. The file on my computer has labelled it 9th December 2013. I barely remember writing it, the reason why it was unpublished on my blog is unknown. It has an abrupt end, which unfortunately my experience didn’t. Here I present the un-adulterated version:
It makes an acceptable name for the following blog entry though as it too is a retarded mesh of crap.
The proceeding post was written around 3 weeks ago. The file on my computer has labelled it 9th December 2013. I barely remember writing it, the reason why it was unpublished on my blog is unknown. It has an abrupt end, which unfortunately my experience didn’t. Here I present the un-adulterated version:
9th December, 2013
"I went to Mars there for a second guys. And I got t-shirts for everyone."
Wow . . . erm the last two weeks are a blur. To say my sleep-pattern has been all over the place is an understatement. I’m sure the dictionary definition of “sleep-pattern” requires at least some sleep interludes between the awakeness of day to day life.
Physically I have been very much in reality, but the neurons within my head have been on their own trip. Family members and health workers prodded my body vessel and the tatters of my consciousness. I recollect there questions probing me with “how are you feeling?”, “what are you thinking? And “what does that mean?”
My mind has been playing turbo charged word association; sifting through the self-help hypnosis I have trained it with through mind maps and brain showers.
I felt like I unlocked the majority of the mind scientists say we don’t use, and tried to explain what was there by shouting lots, then collapsing into the couch in tears.
I have been outer body, viewing all positions from a passive 3rd person perspective, critically analysing all the proceedings from the ivory tower in my head. Empathy was on overdrive, second guessing everything I have ever said and done . . . . ever, all at the same time. I worried about the words that fell out of my mouth in the present, as well as my body language. Always my bloody body language! I was in hell but was still anxious about how I looked and what my vessel was telling others.
I tried to figure when all this became true, as the sand of time slipped through my mits, collecting as a pile on my unwashed feet.
As I questioned the reality of the situation, and the reality of reality I simultaneously tried to process every conversation, speech, song, piece of art (I could go on, but I won’t) everything.
Confused? I was too!
Where ever I attempted to focus my attention exploded with questions, answers, explanations, joyous messages and sinister spookiness.
Willy Wokna was a marketing genius, the film dogma can be a theological learning tool, and you can turn anything with a hook on in your bedroom in to a tie holder.
I could write about this forever, I’m sure future blog posts will touch on the experience.
Till the next time I write
Love, peace and moustache grease (home made)
Chris
xXx Mwah Mwah Mwah xXx
Physically I have been very much in reality, but the neurons within my head have been on their own trip. Family members and health workers prodded my body vessel and the tatters of my consciousness. I recollect there questions probing me with “how are you feeling?”, “what are you thinking? And “what does that mean?”
My mind has been playing turbo charged word association; sifting through the self-help hypnosis I have trained it with through mind maps and brain showers.
I felt like I unlocked the majority of the mind scientists say we don’t use, and tried to explain what was there by shouting lots, then collapsing into the couch in tears.
I have been outer body, viewing all positions from a passive 3rd person perspective, critically analysing all the proceedings from the ivory tower in my head. Empathy was on overdrive, second guessing everything I have ever said and done . . . . ever, all at the same time. I worried about the words that fell out of my mouth in the present, as well as my body language. Always my bloody body language! I was in hell but was still anxious about how I looked and what my vessel was telling others.
I tried to figure when all this became true, as the sand of time slipped through my mits, collecting as a pile on my unwashed feet.
As I questioned the reality of the situation, and the reality of reality I simultaneously tried to process every conversation, speech, song, piece of art (I could go on, but I won’t) everything.
Confused? I was too!
Where ever I attempted to focus my attention exploded with questions, answers, explanations, joyous messages and sinister spookiness.
Willy Wokna was a marketing genius, the film dogma can be a theological learning tool, and you can turn anything with a hook on in your bedroom in to a tie holder.
I could write about this forever, I’m sure future blog posts will touch on the experience.
Till the next time I write
Love, peace and moustache grease (home made)
Chris
xXx Mwah Mwah Mwah xXx
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