L.S.D and a few other old friends.

I’ve been here. The acid is still in my head as i type out these words and it feels like something has to be said about what happened while the memory, and more importantly the feeling lasts. I’ve just realized I’ve never written on acid before. I am incredibly sensitive to everything right now, and a little vulnerable. But it feels friendly.

Nothing has been solved. Nothing has been accomplished. But i don’t see why something has to be accomplished in the first place. who came up with that shit?

Everything goes.

Communication is vital. But sometimes much is said even when you’re not speaking.

Funny is good. Funny is awesome. Laugh. Cause it’s funny. (WTF :P)

A person who is a good tripper is the kind of person you want around you.

I need to remember to surround myself with positive things. This is so fucking important and just so obvious why the fuck would i let some dumb, retarded shit into my reality? Need to be careful.

There is an incredible difference between people who want to get better and people who think they are people who should want to get better. The latter are toxic.

I miss my friends.

I can’t think and type. i Can just type. Thinking is a hindrance. it adds impurities.

Breathe. Motherfucker.

Did i tell you am on acid? ūüėõ

L.S.D didn’t answer the questions. It just showed me there is no one to ask to.

How am i ever going to end this post?

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Urban Dream Ascension

He looked over the sparkling city skyline and smiled. The night was chilly and his breath mixed with the cigarette smoke left long trails.

He was on the balcony on a skyscraper, high enough to hear nothing of the noises far below, high enough to peacefully meditate on the distant building lights, those dream like apparitions. Lights meant life and life meant stories, and at least a few of them worth listening.

But tonight he was content, tonight he was at peace with not knowing and not wondering.

He observed his mind, waiting to see if it would come up with something to say. Nothing. Nothing at all.

He chugged his drink down, stubbed the cancer stick out and lit another. Still nothing.

Smiling into the night he continued gazing at the lights, glazed eyes reflecting, watching, observing.

The Grateful Post

I am grateful for weekends. Am grateful for the money. Am grateful for my friends, they make everything more interesting. Am grateful for the air I breathe, that fuels my body, for the food I eat, for nature, the trees, the ocean, the birds, the clouds, the laughter, the good times. I am especially grateful for my parents (co-creators). I love the people in my life, every single one of ’em, and am glad for the lessons that they teach\taught me. Thank you for the great music, the wonderful books that come my way, and every new thing that I get to experience in this awesome, beautiful, mind-blowing reality. Am grateful for the girl who gave me a ride the other day, the friendly ¬†guy at the food stall. Thank you for my health. Thank you for the internet, the blogs, the cool people¬†I’ve met over the web and the loads of ¬†random stuff that gives me an information high. Thank you for my clothes, my computer, iPod, my new sneakers, basically every damn thing I own. Thank you for my fully functioning body and mind. Thank you for this experience, this holy reality, at this moment, right NOW. Thank you for the abundance of awesome shit. Thank you for that cute girl I keep running into around the campus. Thank you for the doc who fixed my arm up, my buddy for teaching me how to ride a motorcycle. Thank you for dark, moody, cloudy days. I am grateful for all the drugs I did till now, and will do in the future. Thank you for the good vibes, the chill sessions, the good company and the nature trips. Thank you for my education, for all the places I get to travel to, the people I get to meet, the things I get to see. Thank you for the lessons I’ve learnt, for the shit I’ve gone through, for synchronicity, for “co-incidences” ¬†and “miracles”. I am grateful.