Depression Begets Minutae

These two wine glasses here I got from my aunt and uncle as part of a gift at a gift swap. They came in a wicker basket with an excellent Riesling and a terrible muscadine wine. They are really more goblets; too short, too thick. They are blunt, not elegant, and do not chime when struck. I dislike them immensely but cannot bring myself to dispose of them.

Here on my right is a small piece of the back of my computer. I removed it attempting to get at my hard drive to bring it to James so that he could re-install my operating system after a failed attempt to pirate Puzzle Quest 2 gave me a trojan. I have yet to replace it because it is not vital.

This evening I was to compile from my groupmates' portions a pre-lab report. I remembered as I was about to do it that I don't have PowerPoint on this computer. I will do it tomorrow morning, along with the rest of my work.

I listened to choral music and read my book for about an hour, then fell asleep. I am bored and lonely. I have many things to do and am doing none of them. This new wave of depression is likely related to my having gone off of my antidepressant for a few days in order to try LSD. It made no difference whatsoever in the trip. I have since gone back on, but there is a delay between ingestion and effects, with my current situation resulting. I anticipate feeling better any day now.

I have no motivation to do anything. I am very lonely for a nice girl to spend time with and smile at and hug. I barely have the motivation to type this.

My mouse is from Logitech. I got it several years ago and it has served me faithfully ever since.

There was no senior design class today. It was canceled. I met with my lab group instead.

I am working on repaying my debts to myself. I have only about $360 left. I hope to be paid off in two months. It will probably take longer. Until then, I will continue making food for Adair and James instead of taking them out to eat. I hope they don't mind.

I began to carve a frog from a block of wood, but it was too hard when cutting across the grain. I think I will need chisels. Maybe I will try again later. I need to do something to express myself, but I don't feel poetic. All I can write are these bland declarative sentences about pointless things.

I have yet to hand up all of my masks. I want there to be some structure, some elegance to the way they are hung about my room, and my inability to decide on this keeps me from doing it. I have quite a lot. I look forward to hanging them about Adair and James' townhouse when I move in with them. I think they will be very pleased. James' younger brother brought me a mask form China. It is cheap junk, but I appreciate the gesture. It was very kind of him to think of me when he was so far away form home, especially since we're not particularly close. It's a decent-looking mask, too.

I have been tripping a lot of acid recently. This seems like a god time to record my experiences for posterity.

First, I do not respond to acid in the same way that most people do. My visuals are minor. I get no delusions, I do not mistake objects for other objects, I do not get confused about where I am, what I am doing, who I am, and so on. I remain perfectly rational. The primary experience is a sense of overwhelming energy barely contained. Phrases and images run through my mind at lightning speed: churning, burning, turning, yearning, never stopping, going, moving, doing, and so on. I have images of my mind as a massive obsidian pyramid balanced on its point, spinning furiously. I experience a weight or tension in my gut. It pains me to sit still, loud noises irritate me, and a metallic taste sometimes floods my mouth. My appetite tends to wane and food does not taste particularly good. I relish the visuals, which include the branches of trees extending and curling to form fractal shapes and visions of things in the clouds. Broken clouds on a sunny day are best. I have seen them become famous works of art; Picasso's La Guerra, cartoons, Mayan art, and other things. I saw a vision of a dog once. When I trip I sometimes listen to music, but the experience is not the same as when I use pot, nor as pleasing. I tend to get distracted in visions of infinite planescapes. The music becomes secondary. After it was determined that I maintain most of my faculties and good sense when on acid, I began to go out and do things while tripping. I've been to the park for a picnic. The sky was a beautiful blue with purple, and broke into planes like a massive geodesic dome, or the carapace of a brilliant beetle. The grass was gray and I felt as if we were on the moon. People threw frisbees that left long trailers in the air. When flocks of birds fly past they leave trails too, and sometimes, right after they have passed through my field of vision, the entire air becomes filled with them, swirling in patterns, changing to rainbow spots that fix in place and slowly grow, tearing tiny holes in reality. When this happens, I inevitably concentrate too hard on expanding the hallucination and lose it. I want reality to tear apart, you see. I want to go to another place and time. I want to lose myself, to connect with the universe, anything. But the mood and visuals are all I have gotten so far. On one day James and I went for a walk and picked up trash in the good weather. It was good fun. That same morning I went for a walk through an old cemetery. I stopped at a grave that had been covered over by leaves and pondered whether it would be better to uncover them, or to leave them as they were. This question seemed to be of great significance to me, and I thought to myself that the reason why we have cemeteries is to prompt people to ask that question and variants thereof. I composed a poem there and wrote it down. It encapsulated perfectly my mood and experience, and I was extremely proud of it. I am less so now, but still pleased. It is as follows:

I wandered alone through the trees and the stones
Till I'd gotten myself turned around
With my bright young feet I churned the peat
And awakened a moth from the ground
It flitted and flied, but too quickly it died,
Surrendering self without sound
Though I search and I search, I find I cannot find
What exactly it is I have found