On March 27 2010 09:16 Valentine wrote: Woooooo just got back from visiting my lady in Louisiana. Right now I reeeeallllyyy want to get fucked up but I have nothing `_______`
And I ruined DXM for me for a while, whenever I think about gels or syrup I want to puke lol. Thinking of super neat-o homemade highs.
i heard injecting 409 fucks you up beyond belief
hahahaha
Sounds like death would be quite a trip.
your life flashes before your eyes, it's the ultimate trip!
I just thought of something awesome: take DMT then kill yourself in a way that you are conscious right before you die, DOUBLE TRIP LOL
On March 27 2010 12:50 A3iL3r0n wrote: Salvia sucks, it's not worth your time.
You're doin..
you did it wrong, either weak extract, shitty conditions or you are just a downer, salvia is worth doing doing at least a few times!
Homie knows what's up. Let me tell you about one experience. I smoke the stuff in my dorm room, blow it out the window. I was barely conscious while handing the pipe and light to the next up. I mosey around my bed with the elegance of a drunk, much to the amusement of the friends in the room. I am an experienced psychonaut at the time and don't let people laughing at my antics get me riled up. I sit down on my bed with its blue sheets, and suddenly, the duvet being pushed to the foot of the mattress, I look at the surface below me and see a big blue brick. It is vividly blue, much more brightly colored than the sheet was in actuality. I somehow perceive the bed to be a block, like one of those rectangular lego bricks with 8 nodes at the top. The thing I am on is not a lego, but a box with the dimensions of a lego. At the time I consciously compare it to a lego. I look to my left, then my right. The laughing friends are gone, all the remains is a field of lego-like boxes, rising to heights much higher than my range of vision will allow and dropping in places to precipitous lows. Suddenly the box beneath me collapses, as though I am sitting on a cardboard refrigerator box. The box beneath that one collapses too. I understand the entirety of existence to be composed of similar boxes and I panic. I am afraid that I will fall through the world and beyond. During the fall reality reasserts itself and encompasses me once again.
Another: We are rocking the leaf salvia, not even extracted, and it's still worth it. We smoke a great deal. For each of us, a bowl mixed with weed and then a bowl or two of the leaf packed into a glass spoon. We are by the edge of a pond that is a frequent smoking spot and the night makes it a glassy puddle of ink. The trip comes on like a characteristic and familiar freight train, bearing sensations and conceptions bound for my lobes. I feel like a character unplugged from the matrix. Remember those long jacks plugged into sockets located along the framework of human nerves? I felt as though I had those sockets. The spikes, like spines, or more like thorns, stick into me at those locations. They are not painful, my body is accommodating, but they are uncomfortable. To clarify, those locations feel pressure, stiffness. I am overwhelmed by that sensation. I turn and walk up the steep hill to the dorm. I conceive that pretending to ski will be exciting and I feel it, the sensation of cross country skiing, before being jerked, a sudden lurch, out of the salvia realm into a reality where a friend was standing at the head of the bunker (the concrete-walled depression at the heel of our dorm where frequent smoking occurred under shelter from the elements). Barger, the friend, inquired in uncertain articulation, as though his tongue was a rebellious pet, as to the whereabouts of Hainstock, our fellow psychonaut for the evening. We looked around at the radiantly vivid darkness until we noticed him, still there, by the darkness of the pond, hunched and whispering. We call to him and wait as his solidifying form storms up to join the living, and we inquire. The man is furious. He lashes out at us like a maniac, a drunk, a manic misunderstanding. We are careful in our inquiries, "what, Hainstock, is wrong?" "What, Hainstock, afflicts you?" He responds, not in the distant, childish and pure tone of someone tripping, but with genuine anger "I was talking to the frogs, you douche." We know the frogs. The inky pond is a morass of bullfrogs and their golf ball headed tadpoles. "Ok, sweet man," we say, pacifying, though we know there is much amiss. "What's wrong man?" The guy is livid. "They weren't talking back, fuckheads."
On March 31 2010 12:56 LeperKahn wrote: n lol if you're gonna throw up or something not worth it.
I've never met a more astute dude who's half a decade younger than I. You kick mad ass, mate.
im trying to sell 30 used punk & ska CD's on craigslist. I was originally trying to sell for $2 a piece and someone wants to buy all of them, so how much would you spend on all of them in a bundle deal (disregard your taste in music)?
I imagine you would be lucky to get $2 a cd. $1-1.50 may be reasonable but iunno people just download everything nowadays and a bunch of blank cds are really cheap too. I'd probably just keep the cds yourself as a collection / memory lane unless you are getting rid of them to clean out space. Maybe just organize them / rearrange your room so you have a cd tower for show.
On March 25 2010 02:59 ragnasaur wrote: LMFAO NICE JOKE DUDE^ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oMFzi35GYKo why should u never shower with a pokemon? --HE MIGHT PEEK-AT-YOU
why did the cat get arrested? --FOR LITTERING
LOL NNCE JOKES! its ART imo!
nice track btw, havent listen to gorillaz in a while~ cheers
I'll be posting more in here starting in about a week or so. Semester ends on Monday for me, and unfortunately I have practically no hours at work. Not a whole lot else to do while I search for another job. I need a new job asap =/