I discovered something yesterday...

[novapsyche]

... or merely realized it for myself.

I may have to scale back--or cut out (*gasp*)--my DXM use.

Not that I don't love it, or think it's still a wonder drug or a sacrament. Indeed, last night I used it as a sacrament. But, like Sam from Quantum Leap, I often have this Swiss-cheese effect. And that kind of goes against the general point. I mean, it's wonderful, having a means that can propel your mind to cosmic heights and depths you'd never before contemplated. But I'd like to remember the trip once it's over.

I mean... I think I had a good journey last night.

I wrote in the entry right before I went to bed that I wished I had a microcassette recorder. Well, even that might not really help. It's not that I forget how to talk, but it's hard to shape my mouth and tongue in the right configurations. F always complains about how slurred my speech gets. That's not quite right, however. It's like my jaws get tight, and I have to find a way to talk through them.

So the recorder probably wouldn't help. But GOD knows I can't write worth a damn, either. My handwriting during a DXM trip resembles a child's. The reason for this is the same as above. DXM is an anaesthetic, a mild tranquilizer. So it doesn't come as a surprise to me that my wrist and fingers aren't responding so well to my mental imperatives. And always I go back to writing cursive! I can't decipher my own notes to myself when the trip is over. It's the epitome of lost time.

I had the thought last night that perhaps the only recording device that might be any good to me would be video. I wouldn't care if I looked stupid; I'm pretty sure I would. But maybe I'd at least have some clues as to what I'm pondering during my peak times.

What really gets me is that I didn't really take that much last night. I had about 600 mgs total, a 7-8 hour experience all told. 2nd-tier stuff. Nothing too brain-wiping, really. I had a 3rd-tier dose once, and that was the most surreal drug experience I've ever had (and yes, I have had good acid before). But at least I can remember that trip.

So, after the peak, F and I watched Unforgiven, which I'd never seen but had always wanted. It's not a DXM movie, due to its unconventional, eclectic editing style (which, no doubt, contributed to its worth as an Academy Award winning piece). But I am glad to have seen it. Like I said to F, I'll have to see it again when I'm sober. (A good DXM movie, amazingly enough: Deliverance. Excellent, fluid editing between takes.)

I had a severe bout of homesickness during and following the movie. For some reason, my mind was centered on the Timbers, the family who half-adopted me and spirited me off to church once or twice a week. They were good people, and I miss them. I haven't talked to them in years... not since some of the darkest years of my life. I hope to see them this Christmas, when I make it back to Michigan.

And I wrote the quickest card to my father, whom I always miss, no matter how long we lay out of touch. It had been a month to the day since I last saw or spoke with him, and that was too much. I hope his reply comes soon.

Hmm. Now I'm just rambling. But cutting back on the DXM might help me insofar that my muscles won't tense up so much, and maybe I can get some writing done. I wish I could write and meditate at the same time.

Comments

[vaxjedi]

Here's a quote:
You can't be the messiah if you don't know how to tie your shoelaces.

My realization for a while is that spiritual revelation is useless unless you can bring it back to the mundane world.

[myelectricsheep.livejournal.com]

If by meditation you mean, being aware of what is happening right now, why limit that? You can do it writing, or anytime. What happens when you get up after sitting? Is there a big difference? Just something you could look at.