" If I try hard to honor you, you will try harder to honor me." " "Pink should be cherished and respected, it s here to mitigate aggression." " A circle and a square are really the same thing!!!!" oh yeah, the piece of paper! You pull it out of your pocket and read: You come down, and later feel that tug in your mind.what was it. So you write down the essence of your revelation, this refinement of knowledge that has eluded mankind, but now you, the chosen one, can tell everyone, because you wrote it down! Good thinking! Ok, so next time you take acid, and it happens again, but this time you are prepared, you brought your pen! Some faint echo of it nags at you, because it felt so real, what was it? Should have written it down.shit the bed. But somehow, by the time you are sober again, the feeling is gone. You get this overwhelming feeling of having discovered some deeper, hidden meaning about life, a major revelation of some kind. I had it happen a few times when I used to take it as a teenager. The "Rosetta Stoned" feeling is a common occurance on lsd. It's a sort of narcissism, to think that you are so important that you get to know the mysteries of life that nobody else gets to know, and that you should simply be granted this knowledge and responsibility because you were wise enough to ingest a chemical that has been experimented with for most of the last century, by millions of people, some of them likely much more talented and intelligent than you. No, because they are special, they have been chosen. they have been granted special access to the answers because.why? Because they took acid and believe in ufo's? Never mind the fact that many, more powerful, minds have been unable to give us definitive answers to these questions. That they have tapped into some fount of knowledge about all the Big Questions that have eluded mankind since day one. It's a sort of slap in the face to all the psychonauts and self appointed mystics and shaman who walk around acting as if, or believing, that they have been granted special access to the mysteries of life. They chose me, and I didn't even graduate from fucking high school." The part where he says "Me, the chosen one. It's a masterfully humorous song, and full of truth. This is about the fallacies and ignorance and narcissism of certain psychedelic enthusiasts. To write it down for all the world to seeĬan't remember what they said to make me out to be a hero Overwhelmed as one would be placed in my positionīorn to bear and bring to all the details of our ending See, the dead ain't touring and this wasn't all in my head See, my heart is racing cuz this shit never happens to me See, my heart is pounding cuz this shit never happens to me.Īnd can anyone tell me why y'all sound like peanuts parents? Then he looked right through me with somniferous almond eyes They chose me!!!! And I didn't even graduate from fuckin' high school!! A message of hope for those who choose to hear it, and a warning for those who do not." Me! The chosen one. So light in his way, like an apparition, he'd had me crying out.Īnd after calming me down with some orange slices and some fetal spooning, E.T. Ron Hubbard upper lip and all I could think was, "I hope uncle martin here doesn't notice that I pissed my fuckin pants!!" Then the X file being, looking like some kinda blue green Jackie chan, with Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of vanilla chig champa, did a slow mo matrix decent outta the butt end of the banana vessel, and hovered above my bug eyes, my gaping jaw, and my sweaty L. Cutting right angle donuts on a dime and stopping right at my birkinstocks, and me yelping "holy fuckin' shit!" 10 to 2 am, X, yogi DMT, and a box of krispy kreme's in my "need to know" pose just outside of area 51, contemplating the whole chosen people thingy when just then a flaming stealth banana split the sky like one would hope but never really expect to see in a place like this.
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