Big Dog

 

I went for the not-so phat bag of coke in the end, after wrestling with the desire for several hours. I tried to be normal for once in my life, but it didn’t quite work out. I succumbed to the temptation. The beak was pure power, as they say; top-notch, grade-A swag, which is a bad thing in a way, because it makes you want more. Sometimes, when it’s not up to scratch, it puts you off from craving any extra for a long time. At one point, my head was wobbling like an alarm clock, and my arm was shaking. That’s what I want. That lets me know that something is actually going to work in my system. It’s slightly nervy and frightening, but dangerously exhilarating at the same time.

I avoided the CeLLuloid CoRRidor (porn), because I had none and couldn’t be arsed buying any. Instead, I fapped to the voices in my head. I know that this was relinquishing the former position of power I had over them, but it is what it is. I feel I’ll be able to maintain that power for a lifetime, if I don’t give up faith and concentrate on the matter at hand. You only have as much power as you think you have. The voices, when I fap to them, have three ranges: Sexy, Bossy, and Spazzy. They sound off in various mantras and put me in a stubborn trance. It all feels like a big game, but they do turn me on a helluva lot. I’m ashamed and embarrassed, obviously, but I’ll get over it. It’s Day 4 now, and I feel free from it yet again, although I have still one eye on the USE AGAIN ball, even though there is no way I can afford it. I don’t know, maybe I could get a little whizz in between the Big Dogs.

Talking like a druggie on the blogspot, what am I like? What defines me, however, aside from my drug use, is how I react and bounce back from psychosis. The thoughts that fill my head afterwards are quite unreal, they keep me occupied for hours and hours, almost as long as the drugs last for. I call it the upside for being a total down ‘n’ out. I didn’t feel like a down ‘n’ out upon the astral plain last night, however; I felt like a wizard. I had a handful of lucid dreams, wherein I knew I was dreaming. Fully conscious and aware, in the dream state. It’s such a good experience, it’s at least worth the same price as cocaine.

I enjoyed a bit of frottage with a girl named Nellison, then went for a fly in the sky, then rode the cockpit of a plane as it took off from above an astral city. The main centrepiece of the city was a double apartment block which was a cross between the Hilton hotel in Manchester and the New York Twin Towers. It was exquisite, man, sheer mind-bending fun. I think that the Good Lord is rewarding my dream life because my veridical existence is so monotonous.