It is difficult to live in close quarters with other human beings. I can’t help but feel like some of my friends lack discipline, which deteriorates their application, ultimately making me feel frustration at their condition. Yesterday folks were in a particularly ripe mood. I don’t let such things distract me too much, and except for a few guilty feelings as though I should be doing more to attend to my partners, I keep on pushing my grains of sand around into their labyrinthine configurations. Even if I sleep in hours past when I would prefer to rise, I still have the house to myself for many hours. I rather like that part of the deal.

Yesterday we put all the drums into one little red room with cement floors and conducted ourselves into a whirlwind orchestration. Yesterday we discussed the pros and cons of consuming psilocybin as a tea in regard to our emotional capacitance. Yesterday I climbed into the valley and sat on a large iron ore for what felt like minutes but may have been hours. Yesterday we drove into town to drink margaritas and snack chips, during which __ and I gently explained to __ the nuances of various degrees of inebriation by alcohol. Yesterday we drank frontier whiskey with sarsaparilla root beer and puffed hand rolled cigarettes and pontificated warbling flights of fancy. Yesterday was a pretty good day in hindsight.

And today I am hung over, just a little. I am drinking strong coffee and devouring a gluten free pancake that tastes like cardboard and thinking about the colors laid out before me. Today we will ingest hallucinatory concoctions and release our ears into the viscous fluids blending through our chromo-frost cave. I am planning on retreating at some point, into a quiet corner, a darkened room, a softer place, and stretching out my limbs to climb the ladder of my mind back to it’s source and attempt to fetter out the fluff and dander from delirium and archived volumes of my inner-being. When I return I will be recalibrated, refocused, recalcitrant, ready for my recital of reality.

It is difficult to live in close quarters with other human beings. I can’t help but feel like some of my friends lack discipline, which deteriorates their application, ultimately making me feel frustration at their condition. Yesterday folks were in a particularly ripe mood. I don’t let such things distract me too much, and except for a few guilty feelings as though I should be doing more to attend to my partners, I keep on pushing my grains of sand around into their labyrinthine configurations. Even if I sleep in hours past when I would prefer to rise, I still have the house to myself for many hours. I rather like that part of the deal.

Yesterday we put all the drums into one little red room with cement floors and conducted ourselves into a whirlwind orchestration. Yesterday we discussed the pros and cons of consuming psilocybin as a tea in regard to our emotional capacitance. Yesterday I climbed into the valley and sat on a large iron ore for what felt like minutes but may have been hours. Yesterday we drove into town to drink margaritas and snack chips, during which __ and I gently explained to __ the nuances of various degrees of inebriation by alcohol. Yesterday we drank frontier whiskey with sarsaparilla root beer and puffed hand rolled cigarettes and pontificated warbling flights of fancy. Yesterday was a pretty good day in hindsight.

And today I am hung over, just a little. I am drinking strong coffee and devouring a gluten free pancake that tastes like cardboard and thinking about the colors laid out before me. Today we will ingest hallucinatory concoctions and release our ears into the viscous fluids blending through our chromo-frost cave. I am planning on retreating at some point, into a quiet corner, a darkened room, a softer place, and stretching out my limbs to climb the ladder of my mind back to it’s source and attempt to fetter out the fluff and dander from delirium and archived volumes of my inner-being. When I return I will be recalibrated, refocused, recalcitrant, ready for my recital of reality.