It’s nice to know that, regardless of my internal battle with deciding whether I loathe or just about tolerate myself, that I give a shit about myself enough to click on my past posts out of curiosity. Someone had apparently read a post of mine titled “Medical Slut” and I had no recollection of that post, never mind the title. One casual click later and it turns out that it was a reference to deepthroating not being so dissimilar to the medication I have to swallow and unfortunately not a recollection of me scoring with a really filthy nurse. Still, at least I’m peaking interest with myself somehow. Only way is up from there I suppose.
I think that’s the only way to describe the acid trip I had with what seems like an eternity ago now.
Yet I still remember it vividly. This was my second time having it and I took it with 2 rather good mates who I rarely get to see, but is always good to catch up with. You know the videos you see with the bright ass colours based on acid trips, whether they’re music or movie related? It is literally the same thing. I was well aware I was seeing things that wasn’t there at all. I tried to focus my eyes and bring some sense of reality back, but I couldn’t. It was weird, I felt perfectly normal in mindset, maybe a little more giggly, but that’s as far as it went. Yet everything I saw was the stuff I see and think about in my head all the goddamn time. ‘Cept it wasn’t negative and morose… just wonderfully beautiful.
There was this bit where I sat out in the garden and everything was pretty much in HD visuals to me. I could see and appreciate every single blade of grass, Each leaf, no matter how close or far away had this wonderful red tinge at the end of it. I suppose it felt like planet Pandora in Avatar. Everything just overwhelmed me and for the first time in a long time, I was in love with the Earth. I loved it, it was a rare and frankly neglected feeling. But it was there and I couldn’t have felt more grateful. I remember the moment I felt like that too. I was looking in the sky, and it was this really nice shade of turquoise and the sun and clouds were out. I was well aware what happened next wasn’t actually happening, but I was on another level, another wavelength at the time. The clouds… I dunno, kinda danced for me. They were originally thick and puffy, but thinned out almost to cigarette smoke level and swirled around each other. And the surrounding clouds joined in with this dance, morphing the same way until there was nothing but that wonderfully crystalline sky… with a big fucking ass tornado just swirling in the centre with various colours. I’m telling you man, it was an orgasmic rainbow.
This kind of love for the world was different though, like I said earlier, I felt perfectly normal. This kind of unconditional love was way different than ecstasy. On ecstasy I fucking knew I was not sober, I didn’t care that I was not sober, I just cared about making friends and telling them they were the best friends I ever had within ten minutes of meeting them, as well as telling my current ones that I loved them of course. This kind of love… This kind was more, sitting back and appreciating what was in front of me. Like how an artist feels when they finished their masterpiece after laborious hours, or a parent seeing their child graduate from university or something. Of course, I’ve experienced neither of those things and they may realistically be a terrible comparison, but I dunno, it’s just seeing something and feeling a sense of pride that you were part of it. Something like that.
Other shit included seeing moving images on pictures, one funny moment was when me and the two mates I did it with simultaneously saw a a flock of penguins looking up at the sky. After being sober we realised it was actually a patch of grass near the beach. The previous image was better.
Ah. Almost forgot. The background of my phone consists of this, which was shown to me by my best friend as she knew I’m pretty hung up on wolves. Turns out that image is an internet meme for Acid Wolf. Man it just gets better and better. This is what Acid Wolf looks like.
Bear in mind that it looks trippy now. Imagine what it looked on acid. The colours meshed into each other to the point it was glowing and consistently changing colours. It was wonderful. I was transfixed at my phone screen for ages. I’m not usually phone dependent, but I could’ve looked into that phone screen for the whole time I was tripping. My friends who were trippin’ balls too had to drag me out of that realm because I was way too connected with Acid Wolf. It got too deep for them where they refused to look at him when I wanted to for fear that they’d be sucked in like that too. Acid Wolf is too beautiful, I swear.
And that is exactly why acid is dangerous as fuck. I’m serious. You’ll get hooked. Not because it’s harmful and you need the fix, but because the gateway opened is so majestically fantastic that when you return to the cold harshness of reality you’ll get bored, and take more acid, just so you can see the dancing fairies and all that shit. I guess a better way is like, I dunno, putting a coin in a vending machine and your own *insert favourite actor/actress here* pops out. And they spend time with you for 12 hours. And then they disappear. But you had a fucking awesome time with that person. So you’ll put another coin in. Because all your other friends aren’t as cool as your celebrity friend. Living in that dreamland, all the while forgetting that while you’re avoiding reality, it’s still there and getting progressively worse as you avoid it. It’s something I’d do not even monthly, most likely bimonthly, purely out of fear of finding reality so depressing. Well… to be honest, I already do, but to the worrying levels where even I would be affected.
I do love acid though.. I prefer shrooms but that experience definitely would have to be in my top 3 experiences of trippin’ cannonballs. No comedown. No bad trip. Nothing. Just pure vibes.
It was the perfect trip and a wonderful experience. Shame there was no acid sex to make it the perfect experience. Eh. It still rocked.
I am absolutely in love with this. So fricking infectious. I’m gonna learn all of this and sing it. Actually sing it. Out loud. In public. No joke.
I’ve never been stung by anything before. I mean, I’ve been bitten by insects. But never stung. That changed this morning in frankly, the most un-fucking-necessary of circumstances. I was gearing up for another driving lesson. I can drive. Pretty well actually. No seriously, I’m super safe and traffic friendly, but I seem to have stupid bad luck at driving tests. Shit always goes down somehow. The lesson was my first in a few weeks and it was purely for recapping and making sure I hadn’t forgotten how to drive or anything weird like that.
Anyway, I’m getting in the zone, wearing snug clothes, getting out my favourite socks to wear for that extra feeling of relaxation and confidence behind the wheel. I put those socks on… and next thing you know there’s this fucking dull ass pain on my foot. I man groaned/semi-my orgasm noise during sex as I initially thought that my foot was caught on a thorn or something prickly. I’m scrunching my sock to pull it out and there’s this loud squelch. Confused, I take off my sock and dig out what seems to be the cause.
...Well, it’s only a fucking wasp that decided to live in my sock.
I didn’t freak out as much as I thought I would. I was more pissed off than anything. Living in my favourite pair of socks? Really? Stinging me minutes before my driving lesson? REALLY? It boiled over. It was still alive. Just. The annoyance took over and I kinda crushed it with my hands, not caring if I got stung again. (I didn’t). I then gave it the ultimate slap in the face by discarding it in the bin and not letting it become part of the Earth like nature intended.
Not only was I annoyed about the not-being-stung streak coming to an abrupt and unexpected end, but the way it came about. I mean, I wouldn’t have minded if I had to save a hot lady from a killer swarm or some shit like that, but no. It was via a sock. On the plus side at least I don’t have a wank sock. Then that’d be REALLY awkward.
Upon the horrific murder of the wasp, I was actually… in a pretty good mood after that. Sure, the irritation was a bitch during the driving lesson, but I was actually a lot more upbeat. All that stress and inability to deal the hand I had with real life was… gone. Hell, even my infamous libido has returned after ages. I guess it’s a rather strange take on venting, at the cost of the wasp’s life.
So, to the hobo wasp that lived in my sock, I thank you for giving me your take on fucked up tough love. I understand that even with my subjectively crappy life, it was nothing compared to yours. I’m not getting you out of the bin though, I hope you’ll understand.
Ok, I feel a lot better about everything going on around me now. Apt title to go with the vibes.
Well I said I’d give 5000 words through posts by today, but it might not happen. Not due to lack of content. I got a load of shit I want to talk about. Just due to lack of time. Anyway. I’ll get at least one topic out of the way. I’ll try to get the others done by tomorrow provided I manage to stick to my target of working which I will hopefully accomplish.
This post is a response to the question that you may have of, “Hey Seb, just where the fuck have you been?” Well, dear reader. It’s been boring. Turns out this employment crap is a lot harder than it was originally supposed to be. Especially since my CV is meticulously geared towards a career in journalism and copywriting. Annnnd well, that isn’t happening lately, which is freaking me out because the gap in my CV is slowly getting bigger and bigger. Not through lack of trying to get hired for shit of course. I’ve applied for administration stuff, PR stuff, anything office related really. And nada. I can’t even get into the ” super generic” jobs because I’m either overqualified (aka they know I’ll fuck off once I got enough wages) or not qualified enough in terms of having x amount of years experience in that field. Even though they know I can most definitely do that job. It sucks. Having all this free time is incredibly dull. It was alright at the start, but I’ve pretty much spent all that free time to the point of being exasperated at having free time. I need to do shit long enough just so then I can complain afterwards about how sucky my job is.
I recently went onto the Job Centre system, about a month ago now. And man, the horror stories were true. They really couldn’t give a shit about my degree or my journalism experiences. I am merely a target that they need to get rid of so that they can reach their commission quota or whatever shit they have to do. But I get it. It’s a job, their job, they probably don’t want to be there as much as I don’t want to be, maybe more. But when shit starts going down such as applying for jobs that I LITERALLY have no chance of getting. (Most recent one being an admin job where they specifically stated that they wanted a finance, economics, accounting etc graduate. I’m an English and History grad.) It becomes a bit pisstaking. I also get that a few people take the piss out of the benefits system but I’d like to think that my approach to them and me looking for a job would earn me a bit more respect. Nope. I’ve stressed that I refuse to work in a call centre/do telemarketing as I am a human being and I do have a right to not pick something. Apparently I was being unfair, but they accepted that. It’s purely because I have terrible phone manners. I switch like a crazy motherfucker if some stranger gives me lip over the phone. Face to face bullshit I can handle, but phones, I dunno man, something just sets me off.
I’ve probably become a shadow of my former self with this job shit, I haven’t seen most of my friends in ages as well as infrequently, mainly because of commitments to finding a job as well as the fact that spending even a tenner is a hugggggggge deal. I’ve had so many interviews now that I’m genuinely confident about me NOT fucking up in interviews because of the practice since the first ones began. If I don’t get the job, it’s purely because I’m not liked/someone has a way better CV, which helps me deal with, I’d rather have that than beat myself up for fucking up on a question or something. Side note, it’s really funny not being able to show this blog to employers because they get interested when I talk about doing this in my spare time and they want to read into it. And I’m all, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOPE. FACK. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPE.” about it, which probably leads to them thinking I’m a pathological liar. I’d rather they thought that than actually read what I’ve posted though.
So yeah, it’s been pretty dull. It’s all good though. Once that inevitable job comes up I’m sure I’ll have more exciting stories to share. You’ll be glad to know my mind still wanders effortlessly, so I’ll post those thoughts up in detail. They’ll be funny, and not sound as depressing as this post, don’t worry. They’ll arouse your mind I’m sure… and maybe your genitalia. Future posts will include: A wandering thought on sex blogs, if really bad musical artists are actually the greatest musicians of our time, the really, really overdue acid trip post I was meant to write about, why good deeds are actually shit deeds (it’ll make sense later) and why Pokémon is now shit.
You read the last part right. I fucking said it. Come at me bro.
Stay sexy y’all.
P.S- If you do comment, please refrain from doing the whole, “You’ll get a job soon pal! Stay positive!” You’ll only contribute to piss me off. I appreciate the care, but the newly discovered semi-scroogeyness won’t.
Expect a shitstorm of posts to come your way tomorrow. Its been coming. You’re looking at around 5000 words overall. Best appreciate.