The Angels Surprise

On November 7, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Back on familiar ground, the streets of The Lower East Side of New York. I had two things in mind, to find some get high and get back to my crib. I usually copped at Alan and Chrysie streets but “operation pressure point” had recently inhabited the entire area and flooded it with police presence. I got a tip from a fellow user that “Executive”, the best dope in town, had relocated to second street and first avenue. Finding good dope in the city was a game of hide and seek and once you understand how the game is played there are certain indicators look for and I found a steerer who steers people to the product.

Off to in search of some buzz, walking down 3rd street, no particular reason just a random route. I had just crossed 2nd ave when I spotted a somewhat unusual looking van. A used telephone company van in faded drab olive green color. Unusual and familiar because it’s the same kind of van my buddy Jim had when we got busted in South Carolina during a stopover on our way to Arizona. No big deal, a thirty day stint in a local jail filled with muscle bound angry Barny Fifes. Thing is Jim had some money wired an payed his fine leaving me there to pay my debt to society alone. Thirty days later I was put out on the street somewhere in SC, I think the name of the town was Inbred Cenral, with no money and no backpack of possessions which left with Jim and the van. My friend Judas Jim up and left me, taking my worldly possessions in a knapsack, and hit out I assume for Arizona with his girlfriend but without me. Alone and penniless a new odyssey began as I hitch hiked my way back to New York fuming the entire three days about my Judas friend. It was an adventure I’ll never forget, and I met a number of decent people along the way that restored my waning faith in humanity. But that was water under the bridge now.

At least it was until the sight of that van conjured up dark memories and returned me to a very angry place. Adrenaline pumped as I thought, “Holy shit, Jims fucking van right here in my city. If he’s around here I shall reign down upon that piece of shit all my vengeance.” A closer look was needed. A tell tale sign would be the custom job Jim had made in the van for his Prima Donna junkie girlfriend. He had taken the passenger seat out and replaced it with a nice comfortable chair his brother had adjusted to fit in place of the standard seat. A semi swivel leather chair meant for a living room modified for his mainlining princess. If I find that in the van I will know that Jimbo Judas is very soon to receive an overdue ass kicking of epic proportion. An unfamiliar devious smile spread across my cheeks, not normally one to engage in such trivial emotional payback, but those thirty days were tough, getting my ass beat by hick sadist cops every other day, then starving and alone in a town 6000 miles from home. The memories have been dormant for some time now but now the evil gargoyle of beat down memories quickly percolated to the boiling point in an instant. Payback is gonna be one helluva bitch for that young shit stain.

Right up to the back window I head, cupping my hands above my eyes to reduce the glare. I wanted to get a real close look to make sure this was the scumbags van. My heart was racing and my hands were shaking. But as I got a good view it was no go. Just a normal two seats in the van. Disappointed I steppe back but something was nudging at the corner of my eye. I felt someone staring, no, not staring, glaring at me from across the street. I thought maybe it was the vans owner so I quickly stepped back an that’s when I noticed the bumper stickers. First one said “Free Sonny Barger“, the next said “Don’t let your tongue get your teeth knocked out” and the third simply aid “1%er” with a skull and crossbones. Free Sonny Barger, the Hell Angel busted in Cali, 1%er a bike gang term, knock your teeth out self explanatory, and the distinct sense that the overlord of hell himself was across the street firing bolts of pissed off eyeball electricity at me from his burning figure. I peeked around in front of the van. “Oh Fuck!”

A row of Harley Davidson motorcycles were parked in front of the van and went on for at least 30 scoots. I swallowed hard and peered innocently at the menacing glare from across the street and he wasn’t alone. Three men, not the three wise men but three burly greasy mean and ugly bikers stood staring at me with their arms crossed in a doorway. I looked behind them to a sight that drained every droplet of blood from my head. A red brick building with a black door and arch, a skull at the keystone of the arch and the words Hells Angels New York City in red letters. A mural style picture of a devil with a trident in one hand and flames in the other. I was staring at the entrance of the headquarters of the Hells Angels, new York City Chapter. They didn’t look friendly nor looking to give me an invitation for tea. The three men walked much too quickly towards me.

The ground shook with each step these three gorillas took but not nearly as much as I was shaking. I blurted out what a horrible misunderstanding this was but I think it sounded more like, “Oh hey wait, no, please, I it, I umm, someone with a van, no please don’t do tha….gurgle gurgle t’fuuu tooie.” as I tried to beg for my life through a split lip and maybe some lost teeth. It was just one of the dudes hitting me, the other two laughing and taunting me in unrecognizable English. After repeated punches to my face as I lay crumble on the ground he reeled back an introduced my ribs to his motorcycle boot which for as far as I Can guess was “just for good measure.” The three of them stood over me laughing like idiots although I wouldn’t tell them that to their faces. I assume reading is beyond they’re level of education so I feel pretty safe writing about it now. I thought they were going to pound me into a slow and painful death but the beating portion of the event was apparently over. One of the Neanderthal bikers grabbed me and picked me up like a sack of potatoes then sat me on top of a garbage pail. “Now what the fuck was you doing with your eyeballs in our brothers cage?” It was hard to speak as I was choking on my own blood and all I could think about was how much everything hurt but I did my best to lay out my story. When I got to the part where I said I wanted to kick the shit out of the traitor Jim it seemed ironic. I was sure they would punch the shit out of me just for acting arrogant. When it comes to kicking ass their expertise shines.

Luckily for me my tale of woe struck a familiar barbaric chord with my new biker friends. They invited me inside the clubhouse asking for more detail obviously hungry for a good story. Once I had their attention my story telling instincts kicked in. I embellished on my prison stint in South Carolina, stretching my sentence form thirty days to ninety days and included a number of beatings by guards while handcuffed in a chair. I leveled so much anger and distain at authority and my nemesis Jim they began cheering and swore if he ever came to New York they would sever his arteries for me and let me take any spare parts home. I was Scheherazade of the Hells Angels that day coming up with new and more barbaric tales each time as they fed me cheapshit beer while listening intently as if I were reading them a bedtime story.

Eventually they let me clean up and sent me on my way with an open invitation, but I knew I would never be back to accept. Not that they weren’t a fun crowd but chances are they won’t remember me ten minutes after I’m gone, and like a Doberman, you just never know when it may turn and make you its victim. From that point on when I was headed down to that part of the city I would walk blocks out of my way to avoid 3rd street between first and second.

No Angel Born In Hell

On November 6, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

I was MIA for two years and now I’m back in town to see Miles my best friend and riding partner. We di everything together, even went together to Port Jeff Harley Davidson to get our bikes. I got the Sportster shovelhead in black, miles went for a customized candy apple red with flames. Miles was a bit showy but that’s one of the things I loved so much about him. In high school we were both considered a little odd, flaunting our uniqueness’s, but Miles took his to the extreme. Long before any of us knew what glam rock was he had a long shag haircut and wore iridescent tight jeans, sparkled socks’ with platform shoes while I stayed loyal to concert tee’s, bell bottoms, and my red, white, and blue “moratorium” sneakers. They called us the big freak and the bigger freak but we always had the best weed so they seldom called us that to our faces. The power of supply and demand was in our favor.

We were both also first on line to experiment with any new drug and to stretch the boundaries of sensible abuse of the drugs. So it wasn’t much of a surprise that when I came back to town it was in part to detox. Nor would anyone be shocked that it was Miles I turned to. I had left town 2 years ago and moved into the big city where I fell into the clutches of addiction. Not much of a surprise there either but bottom line is I wanted to detox and Miles was the only one I could turn to. What was a surprise was when he answered the door. Full red beard and long red locks obscuring a hardened face and wearing a Pagan Motorcycle cut off jean jacket. Mild Miles. Crazyman Miles. I can’t see for Miles and Miles cuz I’m so stoned Miles. The hippie peace loving non confrontational Miles I left behind was now in a violent motorcycle group.

The second we saw each other we embraced like long separated lovers. Two peas getting back in the pod, Frick mending ways with Frac, peanut butter reuniting with jelly. Best pals from kindergarten till after high school together again.It was a magic moment shared by two outcasts that had each gone out in search of themselves. I became a city bohemian starving artist writer, a potential Salvatore Dali with a typewriter and a thesaurus holding down cooking job to make ends meet. That and to feed an addiction. And now Miles a what? A kickass biker dude? “Holy shit Bro, long time man, you look great. Full beard, long hair and a..A Pagan MC jacket. Wow, I mean like jeez bro you look…well you look kinda mean. You hooked up with the Pagans?” Miles grinned his infectious grin. A grin that grabbed your smile muscles and forced them upward. His grin was so intoxicating women would get woozy and he would get lucky with jut a smile. As always I fell prey to it as well. “Yea bro, me, a fucking biker right?? Who’da thunk Miles Martin would be a badass biker with the Pagans. I bet most of our friends figured me for a burnt out junkie loser or some shit, hahaha.”… Ouch, that stung. I forced my smile muscles not to participate in his enchanting grin game and looked down at the ground slightly embarrassed. When I sniffled he figured it out instantly, “Oh hey JT, sorry man, I…I” He stepped back and rolled up my sleeve. “Oh shit Bro not you? What about our pact? What happened?”

I began to sheepishly explain how I just got caught up in it, using a partially true excuse of researching the sub cultures of the city to write my stories an catching a habit researching street survivors in The lower East Side. That was how it began but it was me that fucked up and chose to keep going back for more not for research, but for relief. “That’s part of why I’m here man, I’m sick and I need help. I want to kick Bro, I want out but I ain’t got no one to turn to. My family disowned me, don’t even wanna hear my name, my girlfriend moved back to Kansas just to get away from me, and everyone else I know is either too strung out or too stoned to give a shit.” Miles got it, he knew instantly what to do. I knew he wouldn’t judge me or turn his back on me or tell me to get lost, he was a true brother. “Come on in man, have a brew. Let me make a few calls. First we’ll get you right and then we’ll get you clean.” he sat me down, tossed me a PBR, and disappeared. I guzzled the beer listening to ZZ Top, sniffling all the while as the physical aspect of my sickness from addiction became more noticeable. Five minutes later Miles returned, “Come on JT my brother, I’m gonna get you a dose of methadone for tonight and then we’ll go to a Pagan safe house to clean up. We‘ll take my cage.”

Miles cage, what bikers call their cars, was a cheap sedan of some type, I never really noticed. He drove about fifteen minutes to a bar in Amityville called “Blue T”. I could tell Blue T was a biker bar the second we pulled up because I saw rows of incredible scoots lined up in front. Mostly tricked out Hogs, a few Indians, a pair of Triumphs, and one Norton all shining and gleaming. It was a beautiful sight and I started to understand why Miles hooked up. He told me to wait as he went into The Blue T, returning after two minutes with a dude that scared the shit out of me with just a glance. He was about six four an maybe 275 pounds dressed in all black. His big oval face was obscured by a huge stringy jet black beard that went below his tee shirt neckline. His hair was just as coal black but long and greasy and sorely in need of a brush. Or at least some shampoo. In the middle of that hirsute framed face were two mean and angry giant beady eyes set way back in his head. They appeared to be stuck in pissed off mode and I feared his grimace was surgically implanted. As he got closer it became apparent that personal hygiene was not a priority. A reddened worn face with acne that betrayed he was much younger than he appeared. I wondered if he had ever had a moment in his life when he wasn’t angry. He looked directly at me with incredible distain, “This the asshole Red?” Miles stepped up, “yea JuJu, this is my buddy man, he’s cool. Give him a break Bro, he’s sick right now. Just do me this favor dude an I’ll owe you.” I shivered and let out another sniffle as an exclamation point. “Fuck this asshole Redbeard. Look, I’ll give him half my take home but stop with this punk ass I’m sick bullshit. You think you’re the first dipshit to use the spike?” He was looking at me now an I tried to sound halfway normal, “No man, no, I dig it, you’re right man, I just want this shit to stop man.” He shot me a look that may actually be able to kill and passed me a vial, “Drink half, but just fucking half asshole, this is my take home.” I obliged, thanking him enthusiastically for his generosity. The methadone clinics are only open Monday to Friday so on Fridays reformed junkies in the program get take home doses to get them through. Giving up half your take home was no small favor, he really did me a huge favor, or rather for Redbeard. I passed the remainder back putting out my hand to shake, but he just glared, turned, and walked back into the bar. I looked at Mile and thanked him then asked “Reddbeard” His grin returned triumphantly and he merely ssaid, “long story.”

Miles slapped my shoulder, “c’mon, lets go puff a joint then we’ll have a few brews. My sponsors gonna pick us up in an hour to bring us to a safe house.” We went out back to puff a joint. By the time we finished the methadone was just beginning to kick in and for the first time all day I felt good. We went inside sat on stools at the bar of Blue T to have some beer an catch up. It was a frightening experience just looking around. I was afraid to look at the chicks for pissing off one of these dudes. They were all big burly badasses virtually all dressed in black, “I’m sorry man, I gotta know. How the fuck did you end up with the Pagans?” Miles guzzled his beer straight own, wiped his thick red beard splattering a mix of spit and beer off his mustache into my lap and began his story.

“After you left I had no one to run with. Patrick went off to college and Sam got married and sold his bike. Rest of the assholes from town gave me nuthin but shit so I said fuck it and started hanging alone. I was chilling at Gunderstocks in Northport. and this dude come up tells me about a party out in Amityville. Dude looked cool and I was alone so of course I say fuck yea, and turns out it’s a Pagan club party. Booze and chicks everywhere man, I thought I was in biker heaven bro. So I talk to my new friend and he tells me if I want to get in with the Pagans I gotta do my time. If they like ya they let ya become a hanger on. Then if your lucky a member will sponsor you an you go through all kinds of bullshit I can‘t talk about here. Dude says he’s been a hanger on for two months now. That night I got so fucked up, had so much fun, and on top of it got laid by two biker chicks at once. I’m telling ya JT, the fucking best ever”

“So I became a hanger on, went to all their parties, carried the kegs, picked up grain alcohol and weed for them, cleaned up after, shit like that. Whatever they wanted they just yell ’Yo citzen, get me a joint, or bring me a beer, whatever. Three months go by, I’m hanging around all the time, getting laid like every day trying to impress a member to sponsor me. One morning its like seven AM, everybody’s tanked and tired and this member says to me, ‘Yo Citizen, make us some breakfast’ So here’s my big chance ya know, cooking like you an me always done working at Moonriders. So I whipped them up a great breakfast, made them hash brown potatoes, sausage and bacon, eggs with parmesan, and everyone’s like holy shit fucking citizen can cook. Next thing I’m cooking all the time and they start calling me Chef Boy Ar Dee. That’s cool because it beats the shit out of lugging and cleaning and gets me noticed. Two more months of that when the dude what originally asked me to make breakfasts asks if I want him to be my sponsor. Well hell fucking yea I want a sponsor, that’s why I’m there, so he sponsors me.”

Just then another biker came up and whispered something to Miles. Miles looks up at him says “Cool, thanks,” and the dude leaves. “Okay JT, finish your brew buddy, we leave in ten. When we get to the safe house. I’ll finish my tale then an you’re gonna tell me how the fuck you ended up with that shit in your veins.” I picked up my beer and began guzzling when I hear a commotion to my left. A dude was sitting on a stool next to me minding his business sipping a beer when a biker wearing his Pagan colors pushes his head into the bar, “I asked you what you said about my bike mother fucker!” The dude was confused. He rubbed the area on his head that had just been introduced to the bar counter answering, “What? Hey man, I didn’t say nothing about nothing man, I’m just drinking a beer.” The Pagan grabbed him by the shoulder, “You calling me a fucking liar asshole?” and lowered a hard right hook to the dudes forehead. It was right in front of my face, I saw the skin cave inward on hiss forehead then reverberate back in place all red. After another punch to his chin he lost his balance and fell to the floor. I was in shock but it was like no one else noticed as the dude jumped up fists flying. They bumped my stool spilling half my beer all over me as they engaged in hand to hand combat, splattering blood around from someone’s nose. They brawled valiantly the sound of thuds and cracks as they pummeled each others faces and heads until the barstool dude had nothing left and just collapsed. Shaken up I looked at Miles and said, “Dude, I’m sorry. I know this is your gig but I can’t handle this, I gotta split man.” Miles stood up, “No worries buddy, were leaving now anyway. We’re gonna get you straight.” He through a twenty on the bar and led me out. I stayed very close so they knew I was with him.
Next episode, Kicking It In The Safe House

No YOU Get Out And Vote!!

On November 5, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Tuesday, the national day of elections, the day all the bullies on Facebook an Twitter or any other medium for their pulpit scream at me to get out and rock the vote. “You’re vote counts” “If you don’t vote then you can’t complain” Oh yea, they dip it in honey or drench it in sugar so its cloyingly sweet and well intentioned but it bullying just the same. Get off my back!

Its my right to vote. Its also my right not to vote and it my right to complain whether I voted or not. So the voters make up the rules? Bullshit, you think your vote is almighty and uber important? Your vote is a teeny weeny blip on the tally. When the last time someone one by one vote uncontested? Some states flip coins, some draw cards, some have run offs, but its never cut and dried in the event of a tie. But maybe you’re right, maybe my vote is the one vote that will decide the fate of an entire state. Obama was declared winner before all the voting was even done. Bet the west coast slackers didn’t feel like their vote counted, maybe they should have gotten off their assess and gone earlier!

So quit your goddamn bullying and get off your high horse and leave me alone, I am reasonably intelligent (seemingly more so with autocorrect) and I have a pretty good idea how the vote works. I know its today and I know where and how an if I choose to vote that’s my option, I won’t be bullied into thinking that if I don’t I have somehow messed up the whole system and fell short of my duty.

So I may vote, I may not. Either way if I am unhappy with the performance I will complain. I have endured weeks of irritating political commercials, robocalls that insult me by assuming I’m such an idiot that I haven’t got the wear with all to make up my own mind, and (ahem) friends on face book who apparently excelled in political science and economics in school although I don’t remember that back in the day and I seem to remember most of them at protests with me. Maybe that was before they got seduced by the almighty dollar, the corporate concept of Inc God We Trust, and having a little money has clouded their youthful idealistic dreams of living in a world that’s fair and just. Maybe we should go back to those idealistic values. Lets take a vote! ……PEACE

The Meh! ta-physical Life

On November 4, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

I don’t have a death wish, I’m not looking to die or anything but it just seems that life has hit the ultimate meh point. Get up in the morning in a daily battle with a snooze alarm, drag myself into the shower, then realize I am a slave to caffeine. Meh!

Off to work like all the other drones in a metal box on wheels that become magnetized once on the highway attracting mostly shitty drivers who either give me the finger, or are on the recipient end of my finger. Anger and frustration builds as the daily commute sucks out what little gleam the morning shower temporarily imparted. Meh!

Get to work and speak in robotic tones and ask everyone else how their day was. I notice we are all dressed pretty much the same, as if we were dressed by the copy machine in what they call business attire, and my highly prized quality of uniqueness swirls down the drain of corporate team concept. Meh!

Lunch is often the highlight, or it was before I began to get concerned about the extra fifty pounds that was hiding in bleachers during graduation just waiting for me to get into the real world where people eat to relieve tress. Today another quinoa wheatberry chicken and raisin salad with raspberry vinaigrette. Heh!
Fan-friggen-tastic, workday over time to punch out and get back in the metal box to find my way back to where I started, with a host of new finger givers and receivers, only this time its with open eyes. Meh!

Home again, back to the comfort zone. I get to remove these movement restrictive clothes and put on some sweats and a tee, have some dinner an find my spot on the couch. Maybe a glass of red tonight, it was a pretty stressful Monday. Meh!

So you see, life has become meh! ta-physical, but then I guess metaphysics is cool, you know abstract concepts, the fundamental essence of being, the intersection of time and space with cause and effect, and….you know what, I’m really too tired to deal with all this philosophical bullshit right now, I’m stressed out, tired and just feel….Meh!
What’s on TV tonight?

The Great God Swindle (it is written)

On October 29, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

4th Century AD
“Verily I say to thee have you heard yet the news Donatus? Galerius was found dead!” Donatus paused and rubbed his hairy chin. “No Arius, I have been to Carthage these two weeks. What of his ass-holiness Galerius, in what way did the old boy meet his fate? Foul play think you?” Arius looked at him sheepishly, “Not for mine to ponder Donatus, only what I know of is that Augustine and Ephrem talked of an ailment suffered of severe bowel pain. Perhaps stomach disease is what they speak of.” Donatus smiled, “I see Arius, the old man shit himself to death? No doubt his brains were found in the discharge a as well.” Arius smiled as his mentor continued, “I don’t trust Augustine nor that other asshole Ambrose for that matter. But I know not of Ephrem. Who is this Ephrem?“ Arius was eager to please his liege, “Ephrem is a scribe who writes tome for Constantine. My source claims he is writing the story of the beginning of all time. Well as Constantine and his cronies see it anyway.” Donatus shook his head knowingly, “And just who now shall take the reigns without Galerius in charge?” Arius bowed and chuckled, “ Constantine the lame, the son of Chlorus is looking to bring his fervent brand of Christianity to Rome. He wishes to have the Roman soldiers he fought alongside proclaim him so. If you asked me I believe Galerius was poisoned.” Donatus tightened his face, “Then I ask you. Why do you believe this to be the case?” Arius was gaining confidence, “You see Donatus, Constantine wishes to turn all of Rome into Christians and I have it on good authority that Plebius the physician paid him visits in the dark of night. I wouldn’t put it past Connie to have him fashion a poison to kill Galerius with. It is said Plebius studied under Botchelai the scholar, and is believed to be a follower now of Botchalism Now I hear that Connie wants to put all the stories of his Christian brethren on paper in a bound style.” Arius glanced at Donatus hoping for approval. “Who then is your good authority?” Without hesitation Arius told him it was Basil from the Trentino Province, a strong supporter of Donatus. After some time in deep thought Donatus declared, “Summon Basil, we shall all three dine this evening and speak of this momentous event”

Constantine was in an extremely good mood and had planned a feast and an orgy to celebrate the good news. With his best friends and confidants, Ambrose and Augustine he had successfully trapped The Emperor Diocletian with the lure of an underage maiden, forcing Diocletian into abdication. And now Plebius had taken care of the Emperor Galerius. It would only be a matter of time before he himself was named Emperor and with his cohorts he would spread his Christian faith throughout Rome, maybe the world. He would have his revenge then on the families of the one who killed his father. He would have their ancestry blackened forever by creating demons in their names, armies of the devil. They would be forever linked to Satan and their entire lineage would be damned for all time. The Arioch, Pursin, Dagon, Abbadon, and Balam line as well as many others will be marred. Oh the joy was near overwhelming him. “Thadeus, where is Marin? Am I to understand she has yet to come back from France with some chefs? I want this evenings feast to rival anything before created. Bigger even than Caligula! I have brought in Kumarajiva to translate this Kama Sutra of the Sanskrit. He has traveled far and brought many exotic women. This shall be the party of parties and the perfect time to have me proclaimed ruler of the Roman Empire. Where is Marin?” The faithful Thadeus had the plans well in hand already. “My lord, Marin is in the kitchen. He returned just this morning and has brought twelve cooks from France. They have a feast of food that shall be talked about for years to come. And the orgy room is at the ready as we speak. I promise you my lord, I have everything planned to perfection for the next Emperor of Rome. I would never let you down.” Connie laughed aloud, “Because you worship me or because you don’t want your head removed and added to my collection?” Again Thaddeus bowed, “If that be my fate my lord I would accept it happily. My only wish is to serve you.” Yes, but served how? Skewered on a plate of silver? Time shall tell.

Basil arrived just prior to dinner. Donatus and Arius had already begun sipping the wine. “I am here Donatus, an I have much news.” Donatus wiped the wine that had been settling amongst the thick hair of his beard. The back of his sleeve now red from wine. “Ah Basil, come on we have much to talk about.” Donatus poured a large chalice of wine, “Come on then, you must catch up.” Basil pounded own the devils beverage and held his chalice out for refill. The smile on his face was genuine, despite the rapid enhancement of alcohol. “Donatus this shithead Constantine is certain to be crowned emperor of Rome. He has had Galerius poisoned, forced Diocletian to abdicate and now he plans on writing this book he is calling The Holy Bible or some shit in which he claims God creating man and Satan being the devil. Nary a word of Azazel the all mighty. I have spoken directly to Jerome who is working with this Ephrem the scribe. He plans to create a list of something he is calling demons and wants to include the story of that Christ fellow who wandered around preaching lies until Caesar hung out to dry. He is spinning some story of the guy rising from the dead. It could change everything.” The concern of Basil was real, and he was right to be concerned but Donatus had to know all the details. “So Basil my dear friend, how is it you know so much of this? Surely you aren’t relying solely on the word of Jerome, an out of work storyteller.” All three paused to drink more wine as the first course arrived. Breast of whippoorwill flambé. Basil grabbed the breast hole and bit it in half and spoke while chewing,” Of course not Donatus, not just Jerome. I had Thadeus over the other day and I fed him some absinthe and herb and his tongue got looser than goose shit.” Donatus glared at him and spoke, “I wish you hadn’t said that!” The pause became slightly awkward and both Basil and Arius were frozen. Basil found enough nerve to speak. “It was just a social visit, I never mentioned anything at all to Thadeus.” The two men looked up at Donatus who had stood up, “Oh fuck no, I’m not talking about Thadeus the little shit, I mean I wish you didn’t say goose shit.” Donatus had an impish gleaming smile in his eyes, “ Goose is our entrée tonight.” Through a conclave of laughter Arius claimed, “I should know you by now my liege. I nearly shat a pigeon!” The tone had changed, the mood lightened as the three men enjoyed their dinner with gaiety. The profound discussions would wait to allow the men some mirth. Later the rituals.

The Gospel According To Fluke (another sick bastard bible selection)

On October 28, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized2 Comments

A disastrous misprint was made in the preface of Fluke when describing his reason for writing it. A typo of biblical proportions has us believing Fluke was writing a historical account when what he actually chiseled onto the slate was a hysterical account. Fluke was the joker of the group, the merry apostle. The disciple class clown always making fart noises when Jesus was preaching, and goosing Mary Magdalene when no one watched. Mary would squeal and turn around never sure if it was Judas “roaming hands” Iscariot, Peter the pedophile, or Fluke The Funny. So when Fluke set out to tell his version of the life of JC it was meant as a comedy.

Flukes version contains the story of John Hobbit The Baptist and is followed with a trilogy of parables about A prodigal son, a good Samaritan, and a gold coin. The true authorship has been in question an many biblical scholars disagree on whether he had a ghost writer named JRR, or if it was written by a team of Jewish writers up in the Catskills. No matter, The existential Baker plans on using his creative license, which doesn’t expire until next year, to re-interpret the important stories in the Gospel According to Fluke.

John the Baptist was a short man with huge feet whose ministry practice was limited to The Shire, a land of god fearing hobbits who were as diminutive in strength as they were in size. John convinced them they were the meek and would one day inherit the earth. He left out the part about it being middle earth, but they’re brains were pretty tiny as well. In fact the only disproportionately large part of them at all aside from their feet was their…. well their hobbit poles. Many believe it was the incessant squealing from the lady hobbits that drew Jesus to the Shire when in fact he heard “Son of god are you coming” when they were screeching “Oh my god I’m coming.” But Jesus did arrive and John the Hobbit was there to baptize him in the wilderness of the Shire.

After dunking Jeez a few times in hobbit water John announced to the crowd watching that this guy JC claims to be the son of god and he believes the story asking them to follow him. On Twitter. Jesus acquired over 200 followers that day and thanked John, who noticed his gold wedding band was missing. He was concerned perhaps the carpenter had snuck this the ring off his finger and pocketed it for himself. Aside from being his wedding band the ring had magical powers.

It seems that during a wild bachelor party hosted by a wizard friend who gets John Hobbit drunk and convinces him to become a burglar to steal a gold ring from a dragon that had stowed away on Noah’s Ark. But John comes across an outcast named Gollum who challenges him to a game of Candy Crush Saga. John Hobbit used his gaming skills to extract the ring which can turn the holder invisible.

John cornered Jesus in a temple bingo room but just as John grabbed him Jesus disappeared one can only assume, using the stolen ring. John would never find out as the last part of Flukes story of John The Hobbit Baptist ended with Johns head rolling around on a platter some Orcs served to King Herod as a present from Sauron.

Having some decent success with his first story of the Shire Fluke sat down to write a trilogy of three parables Jesus had told calling it “The Lord Made Off With The Ring” It would one day become a blockbuster. It is Fluke tale of how Jesus convinced a theater full of people to believe in his god with reverence. The crowd gathered to hear how they themselves could become free of sin in five easy payments, and this is how Jesus accomplished the feat.

He started out so simple, with the fellowship of the sheep. Seems a farmer had 100 sheep and one of the sheep was a sinner, sneaking around an getting into the lady sheep’s woolen love buttons. So ecstatic from the sex was this sheep it got lost. The shepherd asked Jesus why he should chase this one sheep instead of just caring for the other 99. Jeez said, “There is great joy in heaven when a sinner repents. Go to him, forgive him and allow him back in the flock.” The shepherd did as he was told spending hour searching for the lost sheep to find an forgive him. As a reward for doing as he was told, Jesus gave the shepherd a woolen sweater and a case of Woolite for the flock.

The second parable was the Coins in The Tower. A woman was up in her ivory tower counting her coins when she noticed one missing. She called down to her friends and everyone searched. When the woman found the coin Jesus aid to her, “There is great joy in heaven when one rejoices with others in the presence of angels. Call your friends, rejoice with them and make the angels happy.” So the woman called her friends and to help her rejoice invited them to Marini’s Bar, where every time a bell rings an angel gets their wings. The angels got their wings, the woman’s friends got drunk for free, and the woman got Jesus out of her tower so she could go back to her old lifestyle.

The final story the J man told the crowd was “The Return Of The Son”. This was to be Flukes cornerstone parable, the one everyone would remember, maybe even resulting in a few prequels. It seems a father had two sons and the youngest one asked for his inheritance early before the Dad croaks. The father can’t wait to get the long haired lazy boy out of the house so he agrees as long as the kid takes the money and runs. He does just that, blowing all the money, much of it ironically blown on blow, and en up running out of money. He skulks back home but surprisingly the father has had a change of heart. Literally, he had a heart transplant and was now much stronger and virile. He had found a new lover and was into partying himself. The older son was livid and denied his little brother existence. Jesus took the older brother aside and told him, “God is holy and cannot allow sin, but he must leave room in his heart for forgiveness and remain humble. So shut up, be humble, and go have some friggen fun!”

These are the stories Fluke was working on at any rate. Of course this version never made it to the official bible, but it can be found along with many other truthful accounts of ancient times in The Sick Bastards Bible. So stop reading and go have dome friggen fun!!!!! PEACE

Show Some Anger For All The Three Piece Grinners

On October 25, 2013October 25, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Uncategorized3 Comments

If there is a shark in the water circling a lawyer, the only real question is how do you save the shark? Maybe its not a lawyer, maybe a banker who has lost your interest or an account who’s fuzzy math you never calculated in the scenario. Everyone seems to be pissed off at lawyers and congress these days and rightly so, they have shown little regard for anyone’s agenda except their own, but don’t let up on other suits with lying smiles. They’re gonna like the way your money looks on them, I guarantee it.

There are half a million bad lawyer jokes, not that the jokes are bad but the lawyers are. Why are lawyers always the butt of the joke? Mainly because they’re butts, but also because they smile in your face while emptying your bank account. I have heard countless stories of lawyers making a fortune screwing people in divorces, contract disputes, inheritance issues, just about any legal matter they can extract a penny. Its actually hard to not have distain for those ass clowns that use the “letter of the law” to screw one party over to make themselves a good living. They leave you with three letters of the law, an IOU. Politicians have entered the rant on arena as well and now the popular jokes about political ass clowns are all stuck in a tiny car as well. Why they even dragged up joke formats covered in dust to rail out at congress, throw a hundred dollars out he window of a plane and make a hundred peoples day. Throw all of congress out an make everyone’s day. Ass clowns! Big shoes to fill.

But seriously, if we toss out congress who will fill their giant clown shoes? Enter the bankers, accountants, and other smiling suit clowns. So what I’m proposing is to back off just a little bit on the lawyers and politicians and throw some disdainful jokes at accountants and bankers. The accountants wife was having trouble sleeping so she aid, “Tell me all about your day.” Then she pulls up the balance sheets and bores herself to sleep. He’s upset because he was hoping she would use spread sheets. Or why is the banker crying? He found himself a loan. No one depreciates a banker, no interest. What I’m saying here is widen the circle of distain driven jokes, keep giving shit to lawyers and politicians, but add other smiling sharks in three piece suits as well, because they can be just as self centered and devious, and they deserve to have some of the mud slung at them as well. Beware the smile behind the suit, it may very well be hiding a knife in its briefcase.

Transcendental Medication, episode III

On October 24, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Previously on Transcendental Medication:
Nothing is the absence of anything. Anything is something so nothing must be something if its anything

She was very attractive with piercing hazel green eyes and long straight black hair tied up neatly in a swinging ponytail but allowing perfectly cut bangs to cover her forehead. Her eyes were as stunning as a Montana sky and just as vast.

Butterflies had left my stomach and created a chrysalis caravan traveling through my digestive tract straight towards my reproductive organs. It was complicated even more profoundly by her sensual and suggestive tone echoing through my soul. Maybe she wasn’t even there to begin with, the line that separated reality from non-reality had become wafer thin.

III Begin At The Beginning

When I got home the first thing I did was pour myself a big glass of wine. A very big glass of wine. I needed to process what just happened today and decide if it was wise to go back. The more I thought about the nurse the more I feared it was all in my head. Was I imagining some pornographic manifestation of a dominatrix nurse? A scene from “Romancing The Bone” or “A Cockwork Orange ” in the hopes of some spiritual sexcapade while under acupunctural meditation? A wet daydream? Maybe I’m hoping for a close encounter of the supernatural sexual kind. Everything about it seemed so very real and she seemed to know me almost intimately. Besides I need to know what the hell this nothing bullshit was all about and how far I would be taking this so I’m definitely going. Then again what if I go back to the opposite universe and its Kha that ties me up and toys with my pleasure zones. Erotic adventures involving Dr. Kha’s thermometer probes and patient doctor confidentiality. Then again if it is the nurse she was so hot and so sexy my libido did triple somersaults with a full twist and was hoping to stick a landing. I would have made a contract with the devil himself for an evening of exploration with her but who and what can I trust? Doctor Kha said equal and opposite! I’m not even sure if she was a manifestation of my inner desires or if that sweet temptress really exists. Maybe its nothing!
I finished the large glass of wine and as I poured a second I glanced at the calendar. My eyes went directly to two days from now, Friday the 27th. Twenty seven is a good number as numbers go. Two is balance and union and seven is a very spiritual number, in nearly every religion. Together they add up to nine which is the highest level of changes. Hmmm, union, balance, and change! I looked away closing my eyes as if to think about it but I knew my mind was made up. I mean a night of deep philosophic discovery contemplating the secrets of science followed by a fantasy involving wild abandoned sex, what’s not to like. Secrets of science? OMFG, have I become a nerd? Maybe so, but when I wake up Saturday morning I will be one happy and satisfied nerd. I glanced dreamily back at the calendar but all I saw were those beautiful hazel eyes filled with longing and promise. Friday it is!

The day couldn’t possibly have dragged on longer if it were fitted with friction bars. From the moment I woke up all the way through the day all I could think of was my dominatrix nurse. I made four errors on my lunch orders at the restaurant which is four more than usual, and my head just wasn’t in it at all. But the shift finally limped slowly to an end and I flew home to prepare for my journey. Nothing was on my mind. That is to say nothing and sex was on my mind. Maybe nothing but sex, but I was very excited on so many levels. After the longest shower in history I did my best to look my best and it certainly wasn’t for nothing, at least I was hoping it wasn‘t.
When I arrived no one seemed as excited as I was, acting as if this were just another mundane visit. Maybe it was for them but I came here to be enlightened and turned on like never before. Dr. Kha led me back to my cot, my waiting room to nothing, and began inserting his needles. “Hmmm, I feel much tension JT, I think I need put more puncture in foot today. Not want you running away, eh?” Oh yea, he knew something was up, or rather that nothing was up. “Just really looking forward to what’s in store Kha, to pick up exactly where I left off the other day.” My smile must have been huge. “I see. Remember JT, every session new session. Like snowflake nothing ever exact.” I turned to look at him but he was already gone. I thought about a line from The Wizard of Oz and laughed, “My, people come and go so quickly here”, then I laid back to meditate while thinking of other Oz quotes. “Some people without brains do an awful lot of thinking, a heart is not judged by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others, you’re confusing courage with wisdom my friend.” I entered my zone, incense and music comforting me, a soothing sitar solo and I was transported again.
“Dr. Kha?” I pushed my way past the dimension curtain. “Very clever JT, using Wizard of Oz. You think other dimension same as Oz for Dorothy? Maybe you same than Dorothy.” I could feel a strong burst of air pushing me back towards the curtain and had to fight it off. “You gotta admit there are similarities Kha, I know I’m not in Kansas anymore.” The air kept me at bay. “True, no Kansas JT, but no Oz either. If you want learn about nothing you need to enter completely.” I fought off the air blast, “I can’t seem to get any further this air current is keeping me away.” Kha smiled, “No air current JT, is nothing. Nothing is what keep you from moving forward. If you want to understand nothing you must first conquer nothing.” Conquer nothing? What the hell is he talking about? I concentrated hard and the wind stopped. I could see my nurse off in the distance, on the other side of a pond or something. She caught my eye and smiled. I looked back at her and then at Kha.
What you see is desire JT, but before you receive reward of what you desire lesson must be understood. You are in paradox JT, time and space much different than what you know. In this dimension Schrödinger’s cat exist and not exist” I shook my head full of doubt, “Are you saying we are in a box Kha?” He laughed loudly, “Box? No JT, here no box, but here always need think out of box. No use logic, use sensory instincts. Let feelings guide you.” I glanced back over the pond but no nurse. “So am I really here or am I still laying on the mattress?” Kha smiled, “I sorry JT, cannot answer. Anyway wrong question. What you should ask is when are you here and when are you on mattress. First to understand time you need let go of perception. You measure time in linear progressions, seconds, minutes, hours. But time constant and wobbly, no straight. You have already existed and already ceased to exist, time not wait on you. Your life is how you experience time, how you put it in order to understand. But time not linear JT, time flexible.” Kha pulled out a yard of string, “This your life JT. For you it have beginning and end. But time have no beginning, no end, time ownry exist. You see your life from one end of string to other. If I give you string in different pieces you think it useless, just like if I show you your life at 19, then at 5, then at 30. Not make sense because out of order yet it all happen. That ownry way you can see time, moving straight and forward every second. If you want see time as time truly is need more than acupuncture and meditation. For special people I give transcendental medication. Combine acupuncture with special medication to help you understand. I believe you ready but it up to you JT.” He paused looking at me as if I needed time to consider, but he must have known if my life has already been that I was going to go for it. “Dr. Kha, I want to understand. It would be my honor and a privilege to undergo transcendental medication.” I gave him a sly smile, “When did I start?” I looked at him hoping he got my joke and saw he was smiling. “Very good JT, I see I have chosen you wisely. I leave now but I back to arrange session.” He pointed across the water to where my fantasy had been waiting, “Meantime, I recommend you take rowboat across pond.”
Right there in front of me was a small dinghy with oars. I jumped in and rowed like a maniacal teen about to lose his virginity towards whatever waited for me across the pond. When I got there the other side it was even more amazing than I thought possible. It was like an island paradise, brimming with plants, trees, and flowers of all colors. It smelled clean and new, lilac and fresh cut grass with a sense of serenity. I followed a path taking in the sheer beauty around me. Flowers with their genitals boldly hanging out on display for all to see, giving off intoxicating scents to tickle the minds of men. With every breath I felt desire building up inside me awaiting release. Then I saw her.
Not a nurse, not a dominatrix, not even an exotic island native woman, but that gorgeous hazel eyed enticing beautiful woman from my first visit dressed as if for a date “I’m so glad you chose to come back JT, I am Ambrosina. I’ve been waiting for you. Come to me.”
To Be Continued

Upper Crust Tailgating

On October 20, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Existential cupcaking to raise money at The far Hill Steeplechase Race was an eye opener for the Existential Baker. We were asked by Neiman Marcus to supply cupcakes for their heavy hitting guests at The Far Hills racetrack who were donating bookoo bucks for a hospital. Always prepared to assist a great cause we agreed and had a nice section on top of a hill overlooking the track to set up. As a bonus I was permitted to enjoy some wonderful sushi and sashimi, shrimp, crab cakes, lamb chops, Veuve Clicqout Champagne, and to wash it all down some Grey Goose. It also afforded me an opportunity to walk around trackside to engage in some hoity toity people watching.

The existential Baker knows little of how to hobnob, never knowing if I’m hobbing or nobbing, but I am always at the ready for something new. Having lived amongst the 99% for my entire life I was unaccustomed to uppercrust customs. Now to start I am admittedly not much of a sport fan, but I have been to numerous football, baseball, and hockey games not so much for the cultural experience but more for the atmosphere. Not being vested in any one team made being an observer much less of a spectacle in a spectator sport. Never one to paint my face in team colors, or dress head to toe as if I should be on the field, or otherwise engage in any of the fanatical aspects of being a fan I watched. I enjoyed people watching even more than the sport itself. During Ranger Islander games I scoured the crowds noticing for all its negative publicity for fighting on the ice there were far more fistfights in the stands. At Yankee games I learned how elitist and condescending a fan can become, but football was the golden jewel of people watching by way of the phenomena of football tailgates.

The parking lot is transformed into cave-like tribal sections complete with all the grunting and food gorging and beverage swilling one would expect of a Neanderthal Reunion. Rival factions wearing their tribal colors begin the tailgate as friends and on an equal respect level until enough hops and malts are consumed to strengthen their bravado muscles. Mostly the ones in and around the vocal chord area. Each tribe has its tables and cooking sources and the food is nothing short of a famed Roman feast with a modern twist. Grills loaded with whole chickens, huge massive beef parts, lamb, more grilled items than an caveman could shake a stick at. A grilling smorgasbord with an array of sides. But the main function of the tailgate is to imbibe a massive amount of beer. The result is feuding tribes of sloppy drunk average guys and girls heading into a stadium to watch professional gladiators play a game. Not at steeplechases!!!

The difference was immediate. Their style of dress was not weekend warriors but reserve fashion chic with a few over the top statements like bright pink striped pants or unusual tophats, but very expensive clothing. Nothing off the rack, everything very chic. Burberry boots, Dolce and Gabbana, all the best. Like LL Bean on very expensive designer steroids. Hair recently coiffed, manscaped and manicured couples all in neatly pressed clothing. Their cave sections were less barbaric as well, instead of grille meats it was a catered affair, complete with waitstaff. Bars set up with premium liquors, chaffing dishes of food everywhere, and red solo cups? Oh Hell no, not at this party, actually glassware. And they openly place their bets on the horse. “Oh for heavens sake I dropped another ace” means Holy shit I lost a hundred bucks on that horse! But it was nothing short of just another tailgate, the result being a more sophisticate brand of drunken idiots. The buzz from Grey Goose isn’t much different from the buzz achieved by Wolfsmith vodka. A number of heated disagreements broke out leading to some major face to face reddened angry speak.

But in the end a lot of money was raised for a great cause and I had a opportunity to see how the beautiful people spend their free time during their preferred sporting events. All in all the guys were lacking in couth but it was accepted as boys will be boys banter, with a bit too much stress put on sexual innuendo. This leads me to believe that the well off young men are quite sexually frustrated, and either the sex talk went over much of the young ladies heads, or they just ignored the boys knowing that I have a headache will work later on. PEACE

The Monarch Of The Universe

On October 18, 2013 By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Another never again moment. I’ve had way too many of them, late nights hugging the toilet bowl somehow empting more contents from my stomach than went in. How many times was I thinking I may have just thrown up my liver or pancreas? How may times have I said never again? Well at least this time I’m saying never again not because I’m puking up my internal organs from mixing every alcohol I could get my lips around. Nope not this time, this particular never again moment is because my hallucinations are over the top. Never again will JT take five hits of barrel acid, a favorite tripping substance for LSD users like myself. One is sufficient for a fantastic trip because barrel acid is pretty powerful, two is pushing it a bit closer to the edge and not normally recommended. Taking three hits is unusual and dangerously close to going over that edge but its not unheard of. But five?! That’s just fucking insane man, something that even the most seasoned tripper stacked with frequent flying miles wouldn’t do that on purpose. To be honest clinical insanity was what I feared most.
So how is it that I am laying in bed in a room I share with my brother tripping like McMurtreys cast of loonies in the cuckoos nest? Because in a moment of sheer marijuana driven panic I made an ill advised choice. My Mom came back unexpectedly and I had five hits of premium trip-worthy barrel acid on the table. I was looking longingly at my freshly acquired controlled substance contemplating who I would abuse them with when I heard the door open. In a rush of paranoia I grabbed all five and shoved them quickly in my mouth. Not in my pocket where they would have been safely stowed from sight but in my mouth! I heard her threatening heels clanking closer as she approached the kitchen and I did the only thing I could think of. I swallowed. Mom came in and glared at me, “What are you doing here in the kitchen? What are you up to now young man?” As I swallowed the tabs I nervously responded, “What do you mean up to? I ain’t doing nothing.” Mom believed that parenting was a responsibility in which she was obliged to constantly belittle me and correct my English. She was relentless at making me feel like shit, “You aren’t doing anything JT, and don’t lie to me I can tell when you’re up to something, you look like the cat that swallowed the canary.” I had recently smoked a joint blowing the smoke out my window and I almost chuckled thinking about Tweedy Pie and Sylvester but I needed to keep it together and switch the focus, “Okay, okay I’m not doing anything mother, just looking for a snack. Why are you back so early anyway?” she stared at me in an all too familiar way, deadpan suspicion “Yea well I forgot something and your dad is outside waiting. But if you don’t want to tell me what’s going on maybe I should just stay home.” Jesus Christ no! Just the thought of that made me shiver perceptibly. Time to use my ultimate teen weapon, the disdainful you never trust me sarcasm, “Yea sure Mom, I’m planning an mass murder, I was just in here choosing which of your knives will make the cleanest stab! Why is it you always think I‘m up to something? You never trust me.” I knew I sold it. Mom shook her head in mock disgust and started towards the door, “One of these days JT you’re gonna say something you’ll regret and someone will take you serious. For gods sake grow up. You stay out of trouble and we’ll see about lifting your grounding tomorrow. Go clean your room and then we can talk about trust!” As she walked out the door I sneered while under my breath I spoke bravely, “Yea fucking right, my groundation! What a fucking joke!”
I was pissed off because most everyone else I know is at the Civic Center at the Jethro Tull concert and I’m stuck here because I missed and assignment in social studies. Social Studies, another joke! Anyway this acid is gonna start coming on in a while so I need to prepare. Time to head up into my sanctuary away from this screwed up world. Up to my bedroom which I share with my older brother who just won’t move out so I can have it to myself. 22years old and still living home the damn loser. Not me man as soon as I turn eighteen I’m outta this shithole of a house. Fuck it, at least I will be tripping my brains out tonight. Little did I know how close to literal that would become.

The cid was kicking in so I got settled in. What to do? First things first. I lit some patchouli incense and turned on my blacklight to make my psychedelic posters burst with colors and movement. I pranced over to my cheap stereo to choose an album. Being in a Jimi mood I put on Bold As Love, side A. It starts off with a funny UFO spoof then quickly kicks into a typical Jimi Hendrix guitar explosion. The album was awesome and premium tripping material. I laid back on my bed and began seeing some very strange visions. The ceiling was normally blank but because of the LSD I perceived it to be full of images, most of which were moving like a film strips. Popeye strangling Brutus, Road Runner and Wile E. Coyote running in circles like a dog chasing its tail, and that sort of thing. High def hallucinations. After watching these assorted hallucinations awhile I had to keep reminding myself that they weren’t real. Then I focused on one in particular, Wimpy humping Olive Oyl and he was pumping away to the music. Popeye, Brutus, and an array of cartoon character I don’t remember were all watching and cheering them on. Olive was panting and moaning her skinny and boney legs way up in the air, and Wimpy had lost some weight and was unbelievably in time with the music, thrusting along with the chords. Other characters were clapping, Olive was screaming “Ohhhh Popppppeye!!!“ and Wimpy kept saying “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday for a good fucking today” still pumping as if dancing. I laughed out loud until I realized something strange. Not that the scene wasn’t already strange enough but this was scary strange. The music Wimpy was humping to was not the album I put on. As a matter of fact it was music I never heard of before, filled with really weird electronic sounds. I jumped up, the hallucinations disappeared and I ran to my stereo. The album was over and I had no clue how long ago it ended.
I shook my head trying to get straight and flip the album over. I stood to reassure myself, “Its just a trip JT, you’re tripping and everything’s okay. Only a trip, it’s the acid, none of this is real.” Feeling only slightly better I headed back to my bed but someone stopped the album. When I looked over it started again, then happened once more. I was certain my asshole brother had come home, knew I was tripping and thought it would be funny to goof on me. “hey cut it out man, that’s not funny!” No response. I looked around. No sign of Robert, no one anywhere, but the music was now playing normal. I turned to get back to my bed when one of my posters, an American Indian chief with tie dye colors all around him began moving. He was breathing and flexing his muscles, holding up a tomahawk. “Holy fuck! This isn’t fucking real man, it can’t be.”
The full force of the five hits of acid were hitting me now. I slinked back into bed and closed my eyes tight but they kept popping open. I had to keep reminding myself I was tripping so I wouldn’t flip out. Can’t sleep, no one to talk to, I gotta see myself through this. But right now I have to take a pee. Off to the bathroom. One of the things about tripping is it intensifies every feeling, whether its making love like never before, hearing music that pulls at your soul, or even pissing. Even better than that pee held in during a long road trip waiting for the next rest top. But there is another oddity when tripping, when you see am image of yourself and its distorted you need to focus and look away before you begin to freak out thinking its how you really look. As I turned from the toilet bowl I was confronted with a full length mirror that had a most frightening and imposing figure staring back at me.
Everything seemed to come to a halt, even time itself. I was staring at a foreboding image of myself painted like a warrior of some sort complete with a bizarre war paint. Split directly down the center of my face and body was a line, on the right side everything yellow except two stripes of dark brown war paint on my forehead angling upwards, a semi circle around my eye, and two more stripes on my cheek in a downward angle. My left side was a dark brown yang to the bright yellow yin. I must say I looked fierce. I stared for a few seconds trying to intellectualize the event and put it into perspective but my perspective had gone out for a walk in the woods and I wasn’t sure it would ever return. The war paint began breathing, or pulsating and changing colors. War paint of dark brown, bright yellow, and dayglo orange were spinning around my face. My cheeks were drooping, my nose twisted and my forehead protruded immensely. I was hideous, a worse image than finding a face full of pimples the day of a date. I issued a long drawn out “Ohhhh My God” and forced myself away from the image. Like I was a Piccaso portrait escaping from a Salvador Dali landscape Nothing was real, I had never come close to hallucinating this hard. I trembled and forced myself to head back to my sanctuary feeling like I was stepping on feathered mattresses repeating “that wasn’t you. That wasn’t you” as my Mantra.
“Shit man, I gotta get a hold of myself here and start enjoying this again. Where the fuck is Popeye and shit?” I thought I was alone but to my surprise I received an answer. “maybe I can help.” I looked about the room, no one here, only me. Oh Jesus now I’m hearing hallucinations. I walked over to the stereo thinking it may have come from the speakers. Nothing. I laid down and tried meditating when a butterfly fluttered in front of me and landed on my chest. I stared in confusion when out of nowhere it began to talk to me. That is to say it communicated to me, it didn’t actually move its lips and speak. It communicated in an unspoken language it called the language of the cosmos.
TBC

Terrapin – The Journey

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