baby's first DMT hit

Without warning, and without the proper anxiety of planning such in advance, I found myself spontaneously invited to a DMT experience yesterday.

Dimetheltryptamine--look it up

Firstly, backstory: These past few weeks I have been in the unfortunate position of full-time employment. Data Entry, in Orange County, which of course has always been my dream. Yet, sans sarcasm, this job could be worse and one perk of the chill atmosphere at this particular office gig (and I don't even have to wear nice clothes) is that everyone gets to listen to iTunes all day. Earphones on, and ten-key away. It wouldn't be bearable otherwise.

And as of now this digitally tuned inclined work has come to the point in which every single day I spend look up audio online, and I primarily listen to Alex Jones and Terence McKenna. 8 hours of this trippy education, it makes for an odd corporate environment.

Terence McKenna comes highly recommended.

Don't even read his books I tell you, just listen to the spoken word.

Psychedelics, we find logically spelled out, happens to be the method of how extra-terrestrials communicate with us. 5 grams of psilocybin is all it takes to talk to aliens (and half a gram freaks me out so I wonder what indeed would happen if I were to take 5 of this??). Or perhaps not. Is it quantum nonlocality, or is it DNA shamanism? Or, then again, all head-trip bullshit?

Specticism or not, with so much subject matter to ponder over . . . Timewave crunch, 2012, I-Ching, DNA, and Dimetheltryptamine... I surround myself with these energies lately. And then, one evening yesterday, I randomly call up a girl on the way to Wednesday Tarot classes and then she invites me to her DMT get-together in Venice. "Wow," I say, "Thanks!"

This certain traveling fellow, now a new friend, came across a small bit of the powdery stuff in Topanga and some others there too; and the four of us meditated in a circle with the first user on the bed cross-legged. Dash of whitish-tannish powder in a little wooden cannabis pipe and take a hit and hold your breath and see what you see.

I only sat in the room at first, and I swear I felt his energy overlap into me. This was a far deeper trance-state than I can usually put myself in. Chackra geomatries came on strong. Tuned into his vibe. Have I experienced a hint of telepathy?

Only fifteen minutes or so, its a quick trip. Now, my turn was next. Earlier I wrote down my intentions. I wanted to see aliens. I wanted to meet Yoda. And Galactus. And the Green Lantern Corps. Dream of the Endless. Break the fourth wall and get in touch with the only reality that matters.

This is it, my first time. She, more experienced, guided me, and lighter to pipe, one hit, two hits, than BAM. I wanted to cough but I can't and she yells at me "hold it in!" and I breath inside-out and then GO GO GO

Immediately I buzz with high-speed vibrations and my eyes are closed tight, and I see vivid bluish-purplish clockwork mechanisms. The Indian music goes on repeat super-fast and the wheels behind my eyes spin faster and faster as I stare inwardly at the machinery that runs the world and everything is made out of these fucking gear turbine techos!

It turns into a tunnel and there's a light blue light above me and I try to fly into it. But I don't make it. It turns vague, and softer, and then it just like that brownish-blackish muddy color that we all usually see with our eyes closed.

I'm woozy but I'm not post-dimensional. I pranayama breathe as good I can and I'm not sure how long its been but it hasn't been that long. "What did you see?" she asks. "The clockwork mechanisms that form the world," and I explain as best I can of the machinery inside everything. Its difficult, but I ramble on and I must contextualize this.

'The Tao that cannot be named' notwithstanding, I find it important to articulate on this in human words. We may have to create a new vocabulary to describe these experiences, but so be it. I intend to make this real, and make this typable. If I have less of a trip because I can't help but think on how to write about it later, fine. If I'll never fall into a moment and ever be just out of Zen, then that is my price.

I don't want to be a burn-out, I want these experiences to mean something empirically. And I want to be the smarter for it. Not the wiser for it. Intelligence always, wishy-washy spirituality never.

Afterwards for the next few hours my language skills are failing me but I must force it out. I am in endless philosophical pseudo-babble conversation and it is great! This is the payoff, like all rituals, the ideas and networks that form after the fact are key and the experience is just a starting point.

And I watched the next girl have a turn, and she sang, and she described machine elves. And the next guy had a trip and he fell down and cried and it must have been a terror. He described the mask from the Scream Movie everywhere and falling into darkness. I think many have bad trips the first time, but I got all my terror out of the way back when I went on the ayahuasca journey.

No fear the next time, and I'd like to take a much stronger dosage. This was a beautiful taste, a movie trailor but I fell quite short of getting to the end of that transdimensional tunnel film and talking to Yoda.

The Dimethltryptamine trip goes fast, over before you know it, and though you're giddy and vibraty (though that might have been the pot too), you are pretty much sober enough to drive home afterwards.

And then, at the peak of responsibility, morning came and I barely slept and I called in sick to work. Only my second week. I should do better, but eh, nobody seems to care. I'm only a temp at this point, and its not like calling in sick at a restaurant where they suffer for it. At the office nobody misses you.

Fuckin fuck, I really need to go on a deeper DMT trip. I'm anxious. They say they'll keep in touch. I hope this develops soon. Then I'll type about it.

While I still claim to believe in nothing, I would like very much for my agnosticism to be thoroughly challenged, and I would like to meet some aliens.

Meanwhile, I grow ever tired of everyone around me and their nonsense primate behavior. Am I supposed to love everything in this Indigo quest? I try but its difficult.

I bear no ill will, but I just don't find this species interesting most of the time.

Meanwhile I have decided to become a mutant supremacist.

Gotta get that "Magneto was right" tshirt.

And type a Magneto story.

And fly inside my brain.

And figure out how it works.

And get better at using it.

And neurologically leave all this shit behind.