Verbalizer Apocalooptikon

The tab digested. The end of summer in tha forests. Beautiful clouds; bright, warm day, starry night. Again we’ve been looking for the answer to usual questions like: what is up, what is it all about, what are we, why are we, and to what end ? what to do, how to live, what is cool and what sucks.

One tab is less than two or three, but hey, we can drive! Back to the source of thoughts, reinventing language on the way, looking for a piece of mind, of sense, the direction of travel. We’ve found nothing. Illumination seems to be the only worthwhile occupation, but it isn’t a matter of choice or an act of self-statement. It is another fantasm we dream. Smells like faith. Death seems to guarantee insight of sorts, but again, this is only wishful thinking. There is no sense other than arbitrary hallucination. Maybe the pleasure of being in itself could make a point - hallucination of higher order.

Two days later reality takes its toll, my acid selves are wearing off, gotta copy with the daily grind. Now it’s Tuesday and looking around I am pissed more than average.

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone… but they’ve always worked for me.
- Hunter S. Thompson