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January 4, 2006 Chapter 1
1.The most interesting section of this weeks reading was the material regarding psychobabble/pop-psych/pseudoscience.
I can readily agree with the dismissal of certain areas such as astrology, fortune-telling and palm reading, but I question
the authors of this textbook when they negate other areas such as reliving birth/childhood experiences (hello Stanislav Grof),
the cycle of abuse, "electrical gizmos," and magic. It especially upsets me when magic (and I am not referring to
illusionists such as David Copperfield) is regarded by supposedly learned individuals as being any less real or useful than
science. I think an in-depth scientific approach to magic and shamanism will reveal some extraordinary and surprising results.
What doesn't seem to be addressed often enough in regards to such "primitive" belief systems is that they are powerful
motivational techniques. Magic simply helps to focus one's will and make a desired want or wish come true. Perhaps these systems
don't qualify as science, but if done correctly they do seem to work.
Critical thinking certainly is important, but were the authors truly thinking critically when they pointed out that not
one psychic predicted the terrorist attacks of 9/11? Did they contact and question every psychic in the world? Maybe there
were some who knew but chose not to warn any one. Maybe they are sick of our capitalist/materialist, magic-destroying, logical
culture and want these disasters to occur? Who knows? Sure, I think it's disgusting when a pseudo-psychic claims to have supernormal
powers to take advantage of unsuspecting customers and serve their own greed for financial purposes (though some of these
schmucks deserve it and/or are well aware of the strictly entertainment aspect). But, then again, if a psychic convinces a
person that they are going to meet some one and fall in love, and this motivates the person to get their behind out of the
house and...um...meet some one and fall in love, then why the heck not? Some of these psychics, I think, are simply con-artists;
some truly believe they have special abilities and make lucky guesses often enough to support their belief; and some actually(?)
do have an unexplained connection with the universe and their minds are somehow able to reach beyond the dimension of time.
Just because most scientists are unable to experience these occurrences, possess these powers, or show proof of abilities
that can not be observed under a microscope doesn't mean they don't exist.
2. Reading this chapter killed a little part of me. A romantic, dreaming, child-like, hopeful, magical part. I suppose
that's what I am most upset about. Fortunately, I still am able to believe in magic, because of personal experiences I've
had that I have not been able to understand and categorize logically or scientifically (actually even that is debatable and
I think I do understand magic, and certainly synchronicity, on a scientific level, but I'll be damned if I can explain it
to any one else or repeat an experiment to prove my theory--it's repeatable, just not consciously...ahem). But, unfortunately,
I doubt most of the students who read this textbook have shared such experiences, and now they probably never will due to
the left-brain mentality being forced on us through institutionalized, government sanctioned (ie. funded) education. I try
to remain open-minded. My goal is to rid myself completely of set beliefs. I feel that once a person believes that something
is one way, their mind shuts down and stops exploring or accepting new ways of looking at the world. I'm much more scientific
leaning than religion. I subscribe to evolution rather than creationsim. BUT, ideally, I don't think either has all the answers.
Yesterday I believed in God, today I'm an atheist, but I have no set plans to remain either and I have no idea what tomorrow
will bring--I may be worshipping Satan...or Harpo Marx. Whatever may come, I'd like to think that I'll be ready to continue
questioning and adapting. I'm beginning to believe that critical thinking, if perfected, will lead to schizophrenia. If critical
thinking, as metaphor, is an escalator to enlightenment; schizophrenia is a rocket ship...without a pilot.
As far as the time I spend in this body on this planet, I plan to utilize whatever belief system I can to achieve what's
wanted/best for me at the moment. I believed an Egyptian prayer would have a magical influence on my life if I repeated it
at sunrise and sunset for forty days and forty nights and it did: I lost my job. After repeating the prayer for another forty/forty,
I was evicted from my apartment. These may seem like curses, but they were actually blessings. I hated that job, which I was
stuck in for six years, and when I was fired, it prompted me to return to school. I liked my apartment (in Fillmore, California),
but I was alone with no friends and the girl I was falling in love with lived in Portland and she suggested I move to Washington
to attend Evergreen. I checked out Evergreen online and instantly knew that that was where I wanted to continue my education,
so I packed up and moved here last August. I like my new apartment, the rent and bills are cheaper, so far I love Olympia,
and I'm making new friends. Unfortunately(?), the relationship with Miss Portland was rather disastrous, but I'm mainly here
to get an education...or at least that's what I tell myself to stem the nervous breakdown. I didn't actually believe in the
Egyptian gods I was praying to, but after the author Robert Anton Wilson stated in the appendix of his book,The Illuminatus
Trilogy, that if I said the prayer then "something" would happen, I believed him because of the amazing experiences
he's written about in his own life and he seemed to be one of the most intelligent, honest, kind, and respectful human beings
I've discovered. The important part is to believe wholeheartedly in the thing that will help you to focus your will. If you
get cancer, I'd say your safest bet is to go to a professional medical doctor. But don't underestimate the power of spiritual
healers to convince a person that their methods also can work. If you can convince your body that it can be healed by God
or with herbs and vitamins, then the body just may heal itself, and those are definitely methods that should be utilized as
well...side by side with modern medicine. Robert Anton Wilson learned this as a child when his polio was healed with the Sister
Kenny method. If you would like to borrow a book or seven by this brilliant writer, I would be glad to bring one in. I've
lent and recommended other teachers his work, such as the Cosmic Trigger series, and they all are always very impressed and
thankful for the introduction. Actually, I'm surprised (and disappointed) when they all express ignorance of his existence.
I also possess a DVD of his general philosophic outlook entitled Maybe Logic.
3. I would like to learn more about "Crossing Specialties," which is discussed minutely at the end of the chapter.
Biological psychologist exploring neurological aspects of social behaviour, etc. I think this is necessary to further understanding
and build intelligence worldwide. Not just between areas of psychology, but in religion, science, and society in general.
Scientists should be familiar with the bible and other religious texts; and the priesthood, etc. should open their minds to
what scientists have to offer. I deplore the obsessional need to separate, label, and categorize everything. Fields and "experts"
will someday become obsolete. Build bridges. Communicate! Internet Saves! Western scientists, through quantum physics, are
only recently beginning to understand what has been taught for thousands of years by Eastern religions--why is this not being
addressed in classrooms (except at Evergreen)? This should be headline news. I come from an extremely mediocre family. Blue-collar,
no college graduates, alcoholic uninterested apes settling for so very little. I don't know what mutation happened to create
me. I must have received the gene that makes one want to learn and explore form somewhere. Or I just was so disgusted by the
adults surrounding me as a child that I strove be all that they weren't. Anyway, even I was able to make this connection between
Buddhism and how particles on an atomic level act, depending on the method of observation. Well, I had an inkling of the connection,
and then wept tears of joy when Mr. Wilson put the final pieces together in Prometheus Rising. Ofcourse, I've had to largely
sacrifice a successful social life to absorb all of this information in books. Luckily, my childhood was so unsatisfying that
I never really liked people much and would rather sit at home and read. I still inherited the disease of alcoholism, but there
are lessons to be gleamed from the bottom of that barrel as well and I have overcome it through sheer willpower. I haven't
figured out if the excessive search for knowledge and snorting up information like a coke habit is also something to overcome,
but at least it's not damaging my liver.
4. I would like to change my answer to why I am taking psychology. Yes, I'm interested in furthering my knowledge regarding
human behaviour and the way the brain works. However, that may infer an interest to use such knowledge to help others and,
to be honest, I think it's more likely that I'm in this class because I suspected from the age of eight or so that there was
something very different and maybe even disturbingly wrong with me and the way my mind works. It's more of a personal/selfish
endeavor. I don't know that I'd be all that good at, or even interested, in helping others figure out why they think the way
they think and do the things they do. I'm much too preoccupied with my own idiosyncracies. I'm also put off by the idea of
predicting human behaviour. As long as despicable leaders, governments, states, and nations contain the power they do, I have
no interest in seeing the ability to predict human behaviour propagated. As Bill Hicks used to say to his audiences in his
comedy routine: "If any one here is in marketing or advertising...kill yourself."
Perhaps I may continue to psychoanalyze myself and explore inner-space and write books about my findings, and this may
help some other poor soul figure out who they are and put food on my table. It can be rather upsetting when you begin stumbling
upon a mountain of biographical information about individuals you find who have eerily similar upbringings, feelings, and
thoughts with and that the majority of those individuals end up institutionalized, incarcerated, or die young via suicide.
Though I'm at least comforted by the fact that they are also such creative, interesting, and in their own tragically sad way...beautiful.
Thank you, Katherine, for popping the lid off of Pandora's live, juicy can 'o' worms by assigning a weekly journal.
January 13, 2006 Chapters 2-3
1. The question I was given by my partner, Dan, on the index card was regarding the nature/nurture debate and I am proud
to have answered the question correctly, or mostly correctly, in that musical talent, etc. is a combination of biological
and environmental functions, which I subsequently was further informed of in chapter three of our textbook. Apparently the
debate is over. Good, it was a topic my mind often got hung up on or ping-ponged back 'n' forth with varying degrees of surety
and doubtfulness against the padded walls of such conflicting theories. I can take comfort that the puzzle will not be solved
due to the infinite number of pieces. And those pieces can change throughout life. Hey, every seven years the cells in our
body are replaced, renewed or whatever, and so we are not the same person we were seven years ago (physically) and, in my
humble opinion at this second not the same person we were a millisecond ago (mentally) with the billions of bits of information
constantly streaming through the millions of brain cells. It's a miracle that we can maneuver these cumbersome bodies and
manipulate our way through the environment. If you really think about it: walking and chewing gum at the same time truly is
a spectacular achievement.
I think that humans are purposely over-complex so that we will be unable to fully tamper with our genetic make-up, which
means we will be unable to control our future. I'm just as paranoid as Orwell and Huxley when it comes to the fear of state/nation/country/government
obtaining the tools to build a robotic human slave race for their bidding. Though, admittedly, I may think otherwise were
I given a position to be one of those in control. I can't figure out if I am either too enlightened to allow myself to accept
any situation of a person having control and authority over another and wish that all treated each other as equals with love
an empathy.....or.....if I am too enlightened to truly believe in equality/love/empathy and that pity may be a trap and survival
is all that is important, no mattere what the means. Is that a battle between Ego and Id? What about the Super-Ego? I think
there is a part missing. I don't like trinities. I prefer to invest in the quaternitiy. The fourth element being the evil
that pious proselytizers always want to leave out or banish to a corner instead of embracing and accepting and learning to
live with it, as it should be. Face it and integrate it and you can befriend any monster. Suppress it and turn your back on
it, it's guaranteed to sneak up on you. The best example I can think of being pedophilia in the Catholic clergy.
I took an anthropology class two quarters ago at Moorpark College and last quarter I took biology 101 with Lynette Rushton,
so I'm getting quite familiar with DNA, genes, chromosomes, etc. Plus outside reading and documentaries. It seems I have to
keep going over and taking tests on the same information. Drilling evolutionary theory and natural selection in to my head.
I've thought a lot about what the future may bring. Will parents be able to select the best genes for their children? Won't
exactly be "natural" then. I sure hope that one of my ancestors was a survivor of the Black Plague, so that I will
have inherited the gene that protects me from HIV and whatever other bastard virus may attempt to attack my body. I think
of the wonderful things that can be done as we make more and more dicoveries in genetics, but I also think of the affect that
will have on the planet via the already out-of-control human population. There's a reason these deadly viruses and bacteria
exist. There's a purpose for war, disease, murder, suicide and death in general. I think that these death devices will slowly
disappear as the populace learns to control it's breeding habits. I'm doing my part by using birth control (actually, that
is seldom needed as I happen to be a social leper). Why are intelligent people having less children than the ignorant and
incapable? Why are so many undesirable genes being passed on? I don't want to come across as the next Hitler or anything,
but I know I'm not alone in feeling this way. I have no desire to see an aryan master-race--just a healthy intelligent one.
The first thing that needs to happen is for corporate greed and the consumer/capitalist mindset to disappear. Every one on
this planet can easily be housed and fed. I'm not talking about communism or socialism or any other system. I'm talking about
empathy (the concerned/conscientious kuh-kuh-Ken now in control). Empathy and education and tolerance. Then we can start curing
cancer and other diseases with bio-technology and building a happy, healthy future of human beings who expand their lifespan
to 200 years and more. That is, ofcourse, for those who have to continue to keep being incarnated as humans until they become
enlightened, wake up, and enter eternity as beams of light. (Try convincing a Texan politician of that!) A friend of mine,
Chloe Barker's, father, Richard Barker, wrote a wonderful book called Steering Evolution, which discusses the need for empathy
and ever since I read it last year it's something that's been on my mind a lot. I can preach all day about the need for empathy,
yet I often lack the quality myself.
The Buddha and a choir of others who's shoulders I tip-toe about kindly remind: The change must come from within, Ken...
2. A real life example? Regarding nature and nurture making up and embracing? I don't know about that. I've struggled
to overcome both my genes and environment. I have no natural musical ability. My mother never played an instrument. My father
could sing, but I didn't meet that guy 'til I was eight years old. My step-father had guitars, but quit playing before he
entered the picture. Later, he taught himself to play bass. So, I never pursued music, though I loved music. About four years
ago I saw an electric guitar in a thrift store and purchased it. It reminded me of a guitar my hero, Syd Barrett, used (more
about him in a future entry). I was already a prolific poet and I began writing songs and working out arrangements immediately.
The lyrics poured out in ecstatic inspiration. I was working my horrible data-entry job at the time and would often have to
stop to scribble down lyircs. I never forced myself to sit and write. I never had to--I was acting as a true artist does,
like a medium. Or, as Keith Richards, and others have put it: the songs were just up there floating around and I'd reach up
and grab 'em. I don't really believe that, but it is hard to take credit for what you write when you're in that state. Was
it my unconscious screaming out messages? My Holy Guardian Angel? God? Yes, or whatever other metaphor you care to accept.
I did that for a few years--just constantly writing and recording songs on a four-track I received for Christmas. I acquired
more guitars, keyboards, a plastic harmonica, a kazoo. I used a vacuum cleaner, pots and pans, forks, electric razors. It
was wonderful. Completely lost in my own little world of mad creativity. It's in everyone's nature to create--some are just
more able to tap in to it or are given more reason to express themselves with art than others. I love writing a poem or song,
or painting a picture or making a collage and not having a clue what it means at the time. Then, weeks, months, or even years
later, I'll look back and say: Oh, that's what that's about. Now I get it! I don't believe that the finished product is what
art is all about. The process is the most enjoyable part. When you are completely submerged in the act and the world disappears.
When your hand is guided by unseen forces. When time stops. That's when it's especially therapeutic and rewarding. Ofcourse,
it helps when you are satisfied with the finished product, which I usually was. I'm not saying I was a genius songwriter (I
was) or became a great musician (I didn't), but the product was so unique and was so "Me" that I was almost always
happy with it. But, then again, my taste is different from most. I love outsider artists like Daniel Johnston and others who
maybe don't have the best voices or musical ability, but they have something special and they express their pain and the way
they see the world with such raw, unbridled, unedited emotion. The absence of self-consciousness can be a beautiful aspect
for a personality bringing something new in to the world. I can't understand people who don't appreciate Bob Dylan. You don't
like his voice?! Have you bothered to listen to what he's saying? He's a friggin' genius! And, anyway, I love his voice. So,
um, I ignored the fact that neither nature nor nurture seemed to be on my side regarding musical ability and ploughed on ahead
and wrote and played for myself. I had no hopes or dreams of becoming a "rock star." I wasn't going to start a band
to make money or get laid (though I wouldn't mind those perks...and free drugs). Very few people have heard my songs. They
say they like them, but they're my friends, so not exactly objective. I stopped writing and playing when I went back to school
and focused more on studying and reading. Music plays a much smaller role in my life now. But I'm glad I went through the
experience and I have some 240 songs to go back and listen to once in a while and laugh at my short obsessive venture. I miss
it sometimes, but performing data-entry for six years and playing guitar for three has damaged my wrists and fingers and they
get pretty sore sometimes, so I doubt I'll ever take up an instrument again. I sold all of my equipment when I moved to Washington.
It just seems like a phase I went through to exorcise certain demons and relieve some pent-up childhood anger. Or it could've
just been all the pot I was smoking...
3. I would like to learn more about intelligence. The ways in which it is defined and measured. To me, true intelligence
is simply the drive to continue learning. I feel it's more important that a person is able to continually accept new data
without bias, rather than storing bits of information in their brain (which simply allows you to further build a bias). To
always question and never come to conclusion. Paradoxical? Ofcourse, but you don't just say it's a paradox and then consider
that as a conclusion and go home and watch American Gladiators! Learning is fun. Life is a game. Turn on, tune in, drop out...but
don't drop out of the game, drop out of the race of the Jones's. Recognize that life is a game and don't take everything so
seriously. Humor is definitely a sign of intelligence. And I'm not just saying that because I happen to a very funny man.
I'm saying it because I happen to be a very funny, intelligent man.
I used to think I was always behind every one. Eventually, I realized I was light years ahead. I was late to get a driver's
license and a car and go to college and date and have sex and all kinds of superficial distractions of the status quo. Not
that I ever fretted much over being behind, I was too busy wondering why everyone was trying so hard to get ahead and do things
and become something different than they were. I was too content, I suppose, being me with my toys, my music, my books, my
skateboard, my thoughts. Once in a whle I'd try to please others and convince them I, too, wanted the things they wanted,
but that always ended in failure because I didn't want those things. I saw no need for what most of society seems to strive
and sweat so hard for. And, after slowly catching up and attaining those very things, I still see no need and am still content
with my books, my music, my thoughts, and my weed. Am I more intelligent because I am able to be happy with less? Or was I
conditioned by my environment and influences to think that I am content with less? Was I tricked in to accepting less? Does
it matter? What is preferred: living in a gutter, happy, believing you are blessed? Or living in a mansion, worrying about
losing your millions, and hating yourself? Who's the smart one? Who's the crazy one? Where's the line and how do I cross it?
Have I crossed it? When did I cross it? How do I get back? Do I want to get back? Who assesses where the line is? Is there
a line? What's it made of? Chalk? Did somebody sneak in during the night and move the line? How far does it extend? Can I
circumnavigate it? Have I been drinking and must I walk it to avoid arrest for DUI? Shall I follow in Johnny Cash's foot-steps?
What was the topic again? Intelligence? Oh, yeah...I have some of that! How you can measure such a thing is beyond me, though.
It's in constant fluctuation. Like an accordian in the hands of an epilectic robot set on repeat. I've been called a genius
before. I've been labeled "brilliant." But so what? I've also been called an asshole and a sociopath and a psychopath
(I looked up sociopath in the dictionary and it said "psychopath" so those two should only count as one) and nice
and cute and insane and selfish and shy and funny and charming and sad and narcissistic and cool and weird and frightening.
Lots of people with lots of opinions. And God bless 'em, they all were correct! (And God damn them, they all were wrong!).
4. I think I've rambled on long enough. I have one question: Who would win in a wrestling match--Freud or Jung?
January 20, 2006 Chapter 4/5
1. Well, there is plenty throughout these chapters that I am interested in. "What's the ugliest part of your body?
Some say your nose. Some say your toes, but I think it's your mind..."--Frank Zappa. I fear this will become a philosophical
treatise if I began theorizing on where the separation of mind/brain lies, and what consists of the "self," rather
than a psychological examination. But, then again, it's all philosophy in one way or another to me. Everything is subjective.
Objectivity is an illusion. Anyways, I'd sooner not enter in to discussion at all. I'm off meditating with the Buddhists
most of the time, after hitching a ride with Socrates to meet up with them. "Know thyself" is my advice...as long
as you come to realize, eventually, that there is no "self." The majority of frustration in my life stems from being
able to acquire such wisdom without being able to explain to others adequately enough to ignite the bulb over their own cerebrums.
I suppose I'm not wise enough to know not to even attempt such an impossible feat. The best I can do is to tell others to
never accept another's belief system, including mine. Which also helps to keep my ego in check and prevent me from slipping
too far in to cosmic schmuckland. Except when I'm playing Devil's advocate and confusing everyone (and sometimes myself) with
constant contradictions. But every logical assumption has a contradiction. Don't get angry. Recognize the game of life for
what it is or go start a conversation with some one on your own level! No cat has 8 lives. Every cat has one more life than
no cat. Therefore, every cat has nine lives.
I'm fascinated by the brain, but not so interested in learning and remembering the specifics such as parts like axons,
dendrites, synapses and such. As far as the physical components, I find the chemicals most interesting. Neurotransmitters,
serotinin (There's a band called The Serotinins...they travel around in a mental health bus), melatonin, dopamine, etc.
2. I wish the book mentioned DMT, which, like melatonin, is produced by the pineal gland. Some say the pineal is the seat
of the soul. I found a connection between the number of days that the pineal gland forms in a fetus and the number of days,
according to reincarnationist, that a soul lingers in purgatory/wanders through the bardo (there is a band called Bardo Pond)/whatever
before rebirth, which is 49 days. DMT is released by the brain at death and is responsible for "near-death experiences"
of bright lights, visions, and most likely, in my opinion, the source of mystical experiences and UFO phenomena. I became
interested in mind-altering substances a few years ago after reading Breaking Open The Head by Daniel Pinchbeck and Food Of
The Gods by Terence McKenna and promptly began experimenting and using my body as a chemistry lab. I didn't blindly consume
unknown substances. I read and studied the literature available and visited erowid.org to read other's experience reports
(which, unfortunately, may corrupt your own experience with a model expectation) and learn what the safe dosages were. I tried
LSD a couple times, the first time being on my mother's birthday, and both times were very amusing and fun. I was so happy
to simply be given the opportunity to try it that it was very doubtful I would have a bad trip. And even if I did or ever
do have a bad trip, I look at it as a learning experience. However, the LSD was rather weak and I wanted something more intense.
I'm a bit of a hard-head and it takes a lot to unlock my mind and help me escape from my overactive rational logical ego-fixated
material world clinging self. DMT was the mind-blowing experience I was looking for. I also acquired a research chemical called
2CT-2. All that did was make me think about myself.. I couldn't stop examining my life and I was very judgmental with myself.
I wouldn't say it was a bad trip, just annoying. I was trying to listen to some music and relax and it's like going through
psychotherapy. Back to the DMT. I heard about people making contact with beings in other dimensions like elves, aliens, even
achieving full transcendence. I knew that it comes on instantly when you smoke it and you shoot out of your body like a rocket,
completely obliterating your ego. I suppose most people would rather avoid such an experience. I, however, consider it necessary
if one is to live life fully and overcome their fears, mostly the fear of death. And, if you're spiritual, it's the easiest
way to reach God. Forget about reading about God in a book, I want to know God (without having to meditate on a mountain for
knows how many years).
No matter how much you read about the DMT trip, you're never going to be prepared. I came home from work on a Saturday,
took a nap and a shower, smoked the little crystals and laid on the floor with my arm over my eyes. It was the most amazing
experience I've ever had in my life. I instantly said, "Oh No, what have you done?" the world collapsed and I shot
through a tunnel of golden light. I forgot to remember that I wasn't dying. That's a natural reaction the first time, but
nobody's ever died from DMT. Though, yes, they have wound up in the psych ward...but for usually a short stay--I was willing
to risk that. I tried to just sit back and enjoy the ride and relax. I was vibrating with energy. I didn't see any elves or
aliens, but I was talking uncontrollably to what at the time I was positive was God. I kept telling Him how sorry I was for
doubting His existance for so long. I cried like a baby. It was equally terrifying AND beautiful. I kept repeating: "I'm
not ready for this. I'm not ready to die." Which was a little surprising. I thought I was ready when I was nineteen,
suicidal and constantly thought about it up 'til recently. I'm 31 now. I heard a constant whirring sound like a flying saucer
would make. It was completely alien to anything I had ever experienced (this was the hum of the universe, which if I remember
right, is in the key of F major). I vowed that I would change the way I live to God, but doubted it even as I said it. I clung
to my ego and returned to my body. Sadly, at the peak of the experience, there was still a notion of: It's still not enough.
It's never enough with you.
I quickly went back to being stuck in my paradigm. I ate, drank a beer and tried to go back to my normal life like nothing
happened. The next day I was laying on my couch listening to music and started thinking about God. If God created us, who
created God? The old chicken and egg question. What was there before God? And, ofcourse, the answer is nothing. Even if you
don't believe in God. What was there before the big bang? Before anything? Before everything? The answer has to always be
NOTHING. But SOMETHING can't come from NOTHING. So that is what we are: NOTHING. I was in a meditative state, was trying to
picture NOTHING in my head, and as soon as I reached this conclusion I started to go back in to the DMT state, except I hadn't
smoked any. I should have cleared my mind and gone with it, but I panicked and held on to my body. I guess enlightenment isn't
easy. I was shaking again. I didn't want to be nothing, which is what the Buddhists believe, but I never really thought about
it so deeply before. Was I transcending? I needed something to believe in, so I had some rethinking to do. I figured that
the only way to achieve immortality, transcend, become omniscient, whatever is to believe in God and become God.
For the next few days all I thought about was God. Have you ever gone 24 hrs where all you thought about was God? I became
obsessed just as in the past I've been obsessed with different writers/musicians/artists. But it's worse with God, cuz everything
you do can be linked back to IT. By the way, I never think of God as a person. I don't even like the name. Call it what you
want like Wayne Dyer says, it's just energy. I don't believe in Heaven or Hell. I figured the explosion of energy that was
the big bang is still in each of us. We're all the same molecules just spread out. Our ego makes us think were separate, but
we're all connected. I know this isn't anything new, but most people (including your's truly) can't get it through their heads
that this is true (maybe it is, maybe it isn't--I hate that word: "true"/"truth"). Everytime you kill
a human or any living creature or even a vegetable, you're destroying part of yourself. It just goes somewhere else and in
49 days gets re-integrated back into the system. All religion and science and philosophy is is these molecules developing
a conscious and trying to figure out what IT is. We have to believe that we ARE God. Evolution is the process of GOD teaching
itself what it is, and it uses consciousness to do that. Psychedelics are consciousness expanding tools given to us by the
various plants of the earth. Or synthesized in a laboratory or from the venom of a toad (what I actually smoked was not pure
DMT, but 5-meo-dmt, which is the dried venom of a toad(?))...it doesn't matter, they're still just more molecules. You can't
put me in jail for smoking DMT. It's manufactured by the human brain. You'd have to arrest everybody, including yourself.
Except for politicians who, ofcourse, don't possess brains. If we're all just molecules, then I'm just smoking myself. You
don't have to wait for death to experience the miracle chemical locked inside your brain (we aren't walking around tripping
24/7 because usually other chemicals in the brain prevent the DMT from taking affect. I think strobe lights can trigger it's
release, as well, and may be an explanation for some forms of epilepsy). You can die before you die and prepare yourself so
it's not such a shock. And I suggest a skim through the Tibetan Book of the Dead so you know what to do when you die and have
to face those deities and remember they're just part of your own psyche. Don't fear any demon and don't bow down before any
angel or "god."
I read a paper by a man who has taken several DMT trips and that your not actually traveling to other dimensions. He explained
very technically how it's just the drug screwing with your receptors. But who really knows? I felt really good after the DMT
experience and started spending more time outside. I went out at 1 a.m. and sat on a bench and looked at a tree and roaches
on the sidewalk. I tried to send love to both, since I finally learned to love myself: God. For further information, consult
DMT: The Spirit Molecule by Richard Strassman.
3. I would like to learn more about how much of the brain we actually use, and if it varies between people. I know that
that popular theory of only using 10-15% is bullshit. Except for maybe those who have been sitting in front of a television
watching Gilligan's Island for the past 30 years. And I would like to learn more about the differences between left and right
hemispheres. I began writing with my left hand last year to encourage, supposedly, more activity in my right brain/to get
the two to communicate with each other more efficiently (an Aleister Crowley exercise, or whoever he got it from).
4. I could have written just as much about dreams. One of the most disturbing dreams I've had in the past couple of months
involved having sex with my mother. The fact that I had such a dream wasn't what was so disturbing, but that I enjoyed it
so much. The dream wasn't really so surprising after being well aware of my giant Oedipus complex for many years. If any one's
life can be used as a case study to prove Freud's theory, 'tis mine. I'd like to explore whether or not it's possible to prove
that I'm not dreaming right now--that my entire life isn't a dream. Which steers us "merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily"
back downstream towards the Buddhists...
January 26, 2006 Chapter 6/7
1. I would like to learn how to hypnotize people and start a love cult and control the minds of young hippie girls to
do my evil deeds. My ideal of a perfect girlfriend is Susan Atkins. aka Sadie May Glutz. Adorable girl on acid stabbing rich
people in the dark of Hollywood hill nightmare glitter. I want to learn to hypnotize myself. To induce a trance state and
consult my submarined marooned on the moon conscious. Perception, ofcourse is a biggie of interest in my life. I try to accept
other ways of looking at things and not get stuck in one reality tunnel. How people perceive physical hard factual visual
matter is quite malleable. If seeing was believing, why would we punish schizophrenics for hallucinating? Why shouldn't a
person believe in a 6'3" white rabbit named Harvey? It only takes one observer to make it real. So what if no one else
sees it? Consensual reality is over-rated. Consensual solipsism is where it's at! The problem people have with hallucinations
and hearing voices is that they don't seem to realize that they can say "no." If they go ahead and chop up their
family with an axe, obviously that's what they wanted to do all along and then put a voice, a name, maybe even an entire ghostly
aural body on the part of their psyche that wants to do the dirty deed so that they could put the blame somewhere else. "God"
seems to be a popular patsy throughout human history.
The first paper I wrote for Biology last quarter was about synesthesia. There's a group on myspace for people with that.
I wish I could experience a letter as a sound or smell.
The section about pain interest me. I like what Robert Anton Wilson says about pain on the dvd I lent you.
I am interested in the cirtical periods of childhood and wonder often what may have happened to me then to leave such
a deep impression that it's effect still lingers. I see the demons in the Escher woodcut much easier than the angels. They
all approach with masks of young bullies, and the angels recede: fleeing pretty girls.
2. I don't know if I can be hypnotized, but I'd be willing to let some one try. It would be easier if I wasn't sober.
If my analytical motor was shifted in to a lower gear. I wonder if people who lucid dream often would be harder to hypnotize.
If I can figure out it's a dream, I should be able to figure out I'm hypnotized. But sometimes I can't control a lucid dream.
That's the worse. Then you are stuck in this world inside your mind where anything can happen...and you can't wake up! And,
ofcourse, being lifted up by an invisible entity and rubbed against the walls and ceiling of your home is never fun. I've
met that "thing" a few times. How do you face your demon when you can't even see it? Once, I think it took the form
of myself and I watched myself walk through my front door (the door was closed) and so I followed and attempted to do the
same but just slammed in to solid wood. Was disappointed in myself. I looked at that as a test. I should have been able to
have walked through that damn door!
3. This question is so ridiculous, as applied to me. I want to learn more about everything! In every chapter! Unstoppable
vampiric brain. And, like I already said, I want to learn to hypnotize people and perhaps start a new religion. We will worship
Kermit the frog. I will wear my Kermit hand puppet and He will speak through me. We will sacrifice government documents with
the shredder of chaos and burn money with the fire of anarchy. Our churches will be many across the land. They are already
built, for they are abandoned Wal-Marts!
4. 23 is fighting back against 24. I just sold my car for $2300. Only a couple 24's so far. One being my "lucky number"
on a fortune from a fortune cookie on my refridgerator. Tiare's cookies, Amber's magnets. One says "If you promise someone
something, keep it" (Keep it for yourself? Your advice is to be more selfish? Okay, I can do that!) and one says "Your
deeds speak so much louder than another's words." More than once, I've mistakenly read that as "...than mother's
words." Very funny internal Freudian slip. Hidden sour subjects rising gently up among the rings of Sigmund's cigar.
Smoking marijuana isn't as relaxing and fun if done before class as amongst friends at home, and can make you feel paranoid
and uncomfortable? That's news to me...
Um, final thought on being hypnotized. I don't want any false memories planted so that I then think I was abused as a
child which leads to depression which leads to stabbing oneself in the heart with a knife like Elliott Smith.
Introduction to Psychology - Weekly Journal Entry
Kenneth Fairfield Jr February 9, 2006 Chapter 8
1. I had seen the Milgram film before in Sociology.Would I continue to administer painful electrical shocks to another
human being because an authority figure ordered it for some silly experiment? It would depend on what kind of mood I'm in.
I would not push the lever even once on some days. On others, I'd be holding that sucker down as long as possible. Ethical
standards? What? Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law. Love is the law. Love under will. As it is. So be it. Nothing
is real, everything is permitted. Oh, I want to write about a topic from Chapter 7. The whole conditioning Pavlovian thing.
2. Yeah, so I am attempting to condition myself to respond to the wearing of my glasses as a trigger regulating a state
of intoxication. See, when I am completely sober I shall wear my glasses. When I partake of any substance (alcohol, tobacco,
etc.) that changes my usual state of consciousness, I will remove my glasses. Hopefully, eventually, I will be able to completely
free myself from drugs by tricking my body to respond to the conditioned stimulus: glasses with a flood of endorphins. If
it works, I better make sure I never break or lose my glasses.
3. I would like to learn more about how people affect each other's personalities/mannerisms and adopt each other's behaviour
patterns. I don't know if that's in our textbook, but that's what I've been thinking about. I had to get away from my best-friend
in California after realizing how much of him was in me. How many of his interests would become my interests, including self-destructive
activities like drinking. He's a huge enabler. And now I am becoming my new roommate, Chloe. I had an out-of-body experience
a couple of days ago while doing dishes and listening to the radio Chloe put in the kitchen that she insisted on bringing
because she's had it since she was 15, even though I already have two much better stereos in the apartment...and when I was
outside of my body and looked back, I saw Chloe! I'm starting to laugh like her. She has one very goofy laugh that I'm especially
fond of. She has been cooking for me and I listen and obey all of her advice about what food I should be eating, what products
I should be using, etc. because she knows a lot about nutrition. My life has changed dramatically. I've lived alone since
2000. Chloe brings over company, other girls for me to meet. Plus there's the girl, Amber, who would rather not have Chloe
around, but I prefer having Chloe around than anyone and I'm going to miss her like crazy. Chloe is a whirlwind of chaos and
confusion, but all sunny bright brilliant fun chaos and confusion. Everyone falls in love with Chloe. And then they try to
help her and keep her to themselves. I thought of her a lot when we watched the film about "Genie." She is magic.
She communicates on my level. She's on many levels all at once. We understand each other's shortcomings, sense of humor, and
darksides. I'm not going to fall in love with Chloe. I fell in love with her back in July. I've already passed through that
valley. And I'm not going to attempt to help her achieve a more "normal" stable life. I like her how she is and
I will do my best to simply accept her. Well, okay, I might fall in love with her. Or I already have. I don't know.
4. I don't know if writing with my left hand to activate my right brain and increase creativity/intuition/blah blah bluh
worked or not. I started doing it a little after I had quit being a songwriter/musician/painter/poet at the height of inspiration,
so I didn't really need it for creativity. And I've had a consistently high level of synchronicities for years, so I can't
use that as a measuring stick.
I think, regarding the prison experiment, I would be a model prisoner. I don't see prison as so bad. I spend so much time
sitting at home, reading, anyway. (Well, B.C. (Before Chloe), at least). I wouldn't mind solitary confinement. It would give
me time to meditate. Sensory deprivation would be great. There's plenty going on inside our heads to keep us occupied. If
the masses realized what they were missing, the entertainment industry would be crippled.
February 23, 2006 Chapter 11 Bankruptcy
1. Oh how nice that the chapter discussing emotions and "love" coincides with Valentine's Day. Love is awareness.
I don't know what all this "romance" crap is about or, better yet, what marriage has to do with love. I just know
that there are ways to condition your mind and body to feel love constantly, simply sitting in the grass and staring at a
tree. Yes, people are fun to love as well, but if you are truly awake, alive, and open to the world you will love everyone
always and equally. I certainly am not there. I got a 40 on the EQ Test. But, then again, how am I supposed to answer a question
where I have to pretend that I'm an insurance salesman? Ofcourse I'm going to choose the "wrong" answer ("D.
Consider another line of work"). And, actually, some of the answers didn't have a negative enough description of what
I would do. They already fumbled the test by assuming a certain level of empathy. And why wasn't there an "E." choice
to each question that reads: "Take a hot bath...smoke a jay, Dude...life's too short, Man"? That's the Big Lebowski
answer to all of life's dilemmas. I recommend it. But without the bowling.
There is a good description of what highly resembles my life on page 426 of our textbook that reads "Certainly some
parents are cold, punitive, and rejecting. But a temperamentally fearful and avoidant child--or an autistic child or one whose
'reward circuits' do not function normally--may reject even a kind parent's efforts to console and cuddle, and that child
may therefore come to believe that all relationships are untrustworthy." Indeed. Not only that, but when I discovered
there isn't a Santa Claus and that my mother had been lying to me, I was shattered. I began wondering what else they were
lying about. I believe that's when I began questioning my belief in God. Ofcourse I don't trust any one! I suffocate from
the smoke billowing from the lips of the tips of flames reaching out from their britches. Or I drown in a giant mound of melodrama
mucuous.
2. But I'm learning a lot about trust with my new roommate. I see this as a test. She's insane. Her therapist, psychiatrists
(I don't know how many people she's seeing now or what medication she's taking) tell her she is undiagnosable/slightly bi-polar.
She is chaos. I should have known better than to become a Discordian and invite Eris, the goddess of chaos, in to my life.
I like chaos. I encourage more of it to exist in the world or, at least, understand it's necessity in the balance of the universe,
but I find myself organizing her record collection, turning off the lights in unoccupied rooms (even though we don't pay for
electricity (well, I don't pay--she doesn't pay for anything)), and complaining about things my mother and ex-step-father
would, which horrifies me because I constatnly reiterate my disapproval of order, rules, laws, government, and politics (and
I simply don't want to be like my parents). So, I am trying to say "yes" more often to Chloe Turnbow and learn to
be less organized and anal. But it's hard to achieve that while making sure you don't get taken advantage of.
3. How do you motivate a Buddhist? A nihilist? What's the difference between a Buddhist and a nihilist? That's not a joke,
I really want to know. I'd like to learn more about motivation in relation to wanting to discover more about ourselves and
why so many seem to have turned off this function and prefer to act as mindless sheep. I find it hard to find motivation sometimes.
I can find difficulty in finding a reason to do just about anything thing if I think about it deep enough. I would like to
explore further the phenomena of what happens when a person has used LSD numerous times, or spent years meditating, or is
schizophrenic has trouble making decisions because there are so many options open to them, with their what I consider "broader
reality." Then you just end up spending all day staring at your feet, one sock on, a marker of where you began contemplation
of what to do that day, or, perhaps, just where you began your deep meditation of socks. A bit mundane way to spend one's
life, maybe, but still more respectable than, say, working for the WTO. I just watched some of The Yes Men dvd that Eric Chase
recommended. Very funny and very very sad. No critical thinking skills among corporate whores apparently.
4. I can eat anything I want and not gain weight. I'm not boasting. I wish I could gain weight easier. But that's not
the only reason I'm skinny. Something is wrong with my nose/sinuses and I non't nave as nood a nense of nell or naste as nost
neeple. And I have better things to do than eat. I used to sometimes forget to eat because I'd be so involved in whatever
art I was creating at the time. I'm having trouble eating breakfast now. My cook is gone.
I screwed up and logged on to Myspace today. I'm not supposed to log on to Myspace on the 23rd of each month. I have my
own group called Boycott Myspace. To join you have to agree to not log on on the 23rd and, instead, do something more productive.
Then, on the 24th or sometime after, post a comment about how you spent your time. It's not a very successful endeavor. Only
me and some dude named Bork ever post anything. And I catch my members logging on on the 23rd all the time...then I post an
angry, profanity-laden lecture that nobody will read because they never visit my sad group, those bastards!
March 1, 2006 Chapter 13-14
1. I was interested in Jung's archetypes, but after reading some of these dream books I am beginning to doubt the justification
for using his theory to analyze individuals. It reeks of over-generalization and the damnable practice of categorization.
But then again, what doesn't? I do love the trickster, though. I think I want to become a psychologist who studies psychologists.
My goal is to show that the main reason people become psychologists is for selfish reasons. They learn more about themselves
and help themselves adapt/deal with life more than helping others. Except when they ignore mountain of self-directed arrows
like Freud. I was talking to a classmate on the bus just a couple hours ago about class. I mentioned I'd like to take abnormal
psychology and the topic of mental illness came up. She said she would be worried about discovering traits in herself that
would lead her to believe she was ill. The word she used, quite appropriately I feel, was "paranoid." I've heard
this fear expressed before by a friend in California. I find that strange in that just because you don't explore a certain
part of your psyche, if that's the correct term, doesn't mean it doesn't exist. I told her it's okay to be crazy as long as
you know you're crazy and can control it. Controlled madness. I want to face my fears and overcome them. It's difficult for
me to understand why so many seem to want to hide from their fears their whole life. Or maybe I am just a reckless, self-destructive
idiot(?). Wait! None of this is what I find most interesting in the chapters we've been reading. I should be writing about
SEX! But I'm too busy looking at lesbian internet porn.
Sex is boring to talk about. I'd rather have it and not talk about it than talk about it and not have it. I think there
should be a mandatory minum on how much sex EVERY ONE in the world should have. Also with marijuana. "Everybody must
get stoned" and everybody must get laid. At least once a week. That might just bring world peace. Who will have time
to fight wars? Yes, I am saying that the world should literally "make love, not war." In History Western Civ with
Alforde we learned about the play Lysistrata by Aristophones in which the women refuse to have sex until the men stop fighting
in the Peloponnesian War. I had that same idea when the war with Afghanistan began. Come on girls, bring those boys home!
One thing we didn't cover in class is sex as mystical transcendence. Sex as spiritual communion, two becoming one and bursting
out of your bodies together in ego-blasting bliss. Sex as tool for magic. Sex (specifically orgasm) as excellent means of
focusing one's will to power a sigil to signal your unconscious to achieve a specific desire. But I guess that's not really
science...yet. I should start an anti-abstinence movement. Today in history we learned about the Etruscans and the Romans.
A lot of what we're covering in the class I already learned in Art History. I always thought of the Etruscans as the lovers,
like bonobos who settle their arguments by having sex; and the Romans as the fighters, like chimpanzees. I know that chimpanzees
can be taught to also be lovers. That's hopeful...in this world that seems to be so full of chimpanzee Romans. Even if it's
only half-full, somebody needs to get a giant straw, 'cause these conditions suck. No no no, Ken, it's all perfectly in balance,
you're being a pessimist. Oh, yes, thank you for reminding me. Um, are you the angel or the devil? Yes.
I don't think, there for I id.
2. "To cognitive psychologists, the ability to understand that people can have false beliefs is a major milestone,
because it means the child is beginning to uestion how we know things. The ability to think this way is a foundation for later
higher-order, scientific thinking" (Kuhn (2000), as cited in Wade & Travis (2000)). So, in other words, it's an important
phase in our life when we begin developing a bullshit detector. I can certainly agree with that (see previous journal with
Santa reference).
It frightens me about the damage prescription and over-the-counter drugs to do the mind and body. My grandma is wasting
away from all the medication she took for arthritis. I'll stick to herbs and vitamins, thank you.
3. I'd like to learn more about violent youth. I could have easily been one of those kids that brings a gun to school
and randomly starts shooting people. And there were guns in my house. So why didn't I? Why do I have such good control over
my emotions? Good morals? Doubtful. I definitely disagree with capital punishment of minors...or anybody for that matter.
4. Ever listen to Beethoven's 9th symphony? It sounds like they're saying "Freud" at one point. What do people
with Oedipus complexes eat for breakfast? Freud eggs. I don't need a devil on my shoulder--I have Chloe Turnbow. She is acting
as my Id. I've been neglecting my studies and partying too much since she moved in. Thankfully, we're not getting along too
well at present and she has returned to her nest, so I'm getting back in to the routine of being a good student. I have a
4.0 gpa, but who really cares since I'm going to be attending Evergreen. I've been conditioned to get good grades by my mother.
She rewarded me with gifts and was very concerned that I do well in school and go to college, unlike her. Unfortunately getting
good grades has little to do with being the person she wanted me to be, ie. a caring considerate mild-mannered husband/father.
I don't think I turned out quite as she expected. I don't know if she is proud of me, but I certainly am. I was an INTP and
an INFP. Equal parts thinking/feeling. No surprise at the "introverted" label. I usually am pretty organized and
my life is routine, but the past year has been mildly hectic, especially the last month with Ms. Chaos arriving. She's forced
me to become more spontaneous. And, however, less trusting.
In one of the dream books I read, there was a method recommended to increase the ability to dream lucidly. It involved
asking yourself at various times throughout the day: "Am I dreaming? Is this real? Am I awake or asleep?" and perhaps
even looking for ways to prove it. I've learned that a pinch on the arm doesn't always do it. I've started to do this and
am beginning to wonder at what side effects may occur with the practice of continually questioning the reality of your surroundings.
Anything can happen in a dream and if I believe I'm dreaming while awake, who knows what my mind will conjure up. That's schizophrenia!
Or, if hallucinations don't lead me astray, what if I one day get to the point where I really think I might be dreaming and
I try to fly or change the day to night or...um...part a sea or two...and it works?! I'll turn the water springing from the
wells in Olympia to wine for the homeless! Or I'll just be another lunatic with a messiah complex.
Here's a song I wrote a couple years ago:
My Psychiatrist Has Failed
Something's going on with my stereo
It only plays psychedelic songs
The neighbors are wearing rose colored glasses
My family thinks there's something wrong
They can't hear what's in my head
I opened it up and blinded friends
There's too much light
To let life end
My television makes my eyes sore
Halts the visionary mind
You stop looking for anything new
When you find what makes you blind
But I'm not the perfect mate for you
I trip when I follow nonsensical speakers
My speakers are blown and ecstatic
Lyrics are easy when you're sick
Patch me up like a broken guitar
Feed me to your amplifier heart
Strum me 'til I come back for more
Throw me in the fire, burn off my warts
My psychiatrist has failed My psychiatrist has failed
My psychiatrist
My psychiatrist
My psychiatrist has failed
March 8, 2006 Chapter 16
1. I'm most interested dissociative disorders. Other than the development of other personalities, I thought this included
the phenomenon of disappearing within oneself in a stressful situation. People who seem to "disappear" sometimes.
Instead of another personality arriving to deal with the situation, there's simply nobody home. Actually, I guess that's more
of a chapter 5 topic. They bring it up when discussing hypnosis.
2. I see myself as sometimes dissociating--most likely due to the stress I was continually confronted with as a child
by arguing adults (specifically my mother).Well, I am also interested in dissociative identity disorder. I attempted to have
a relationship with a woman who claimed she had 11-12 personalities. I wasn't even ready for a relationship with a woman with
only one personality, so that was quite difficult. A lovely girl most of the time. Whenever you mention a disorder in class
and I say I know some one who has that, it's usually the same person I'm talking about. It would be easier to name off disorders
she doesn't have!
In the "Taking Psychology With You" section at the end of the chapter, suicide is discussed. I spent about ten
years in a cycle of depression, alcohol abuse, and the contemplation of suicide. Barely a day went by I didn't think about
killing myself. The idea was officially implanted in my mind when Kurt Cobain killed himself in April of '94. I attempted
suicide, at the age of 19, on August 9th that same year. (It seems many many very bad things happen on the dates of August
8/9 throughout history--the Manson murders, Hiroshima (consult the dvd "Charles Manson Superstar" for further elucidation)
and I always look out for trouble around that time of year. August, in general, brings on a slight feeling of dread.). I used
sleeping pills and booze. I ended up throwing up and surviving (and going to work the next day (this was when I had recently
joined the navy)). I witnessed flashes of light coming through the black of the void at the peak of the experience, which
I would later re-experience after ingesting datura (not to kill myself, but to attempt to recreate hallucinations I'd read
about in Breaking Open The Head). One quote from our textbook reads "I want to kill myself, but I don't want to be dead--at
least not forever." What? That wasn't my thought process. I wanted to kill myself to punish the girl that'd broken my
heart. Later, I would cope with such matters in a more rational/healthier way by writing poetry/songs, painting, etc.
I used to think I was agorophobic. Turns out I'm just really lazy. My godmother is agorophobic. My godfather is gay. My
grandfather saw giant spiders while driving on the 101. My uncle Johnny partied with the Manson family.
3. I'd like to learn more about the differences between external and internal sights/sounds/sensations. I have been hearing
the sound I described to you in the library out of my right ear every night when going to bed. It doesn't disrupt or disturb
my sleep. I wrote a blog about it on myspace and one of my friends from California read it and said she has experienced something
similar. We are referring to it as the "washing-machine" hallucination. She was in her bedroom and thought she heard
the washing machine going in a distinct rhythym that she began adding other sounds to to create music and began dancing on
her bed...until she realized the machine was not on and returned to usual dull reality (her words). She's another one of those
young female acquaintances of mine who is bi-polar and experiences strange phenomena on a regular basis. There has to be a
reason why so many people with these disorders and illnesses are attracted to me. Are they merely a reflection? Is the message
that I should become a psychologist? Cult leader doesn't seem like an option with these gals. They're very headstrong. They
don't take any shit from me. I'm living with some one who is bi-polar. Not the first time I've attempted that. She usually
goes home when she's down and comes back when she's manic. She walks the streets of Olympia at 3 in the morning sometimes,
carrying a baseball bat, wearing sunglasses, and listening to the spanish station on a portable handheld radio. What's not
to love? I need to get in sync with Chloe's cycles. I'm usually at the opposite end of the spectrum of every one around me.
It's probably just my perception, but it seems that when I'm up, every one else is down and vice-versa. It's not something
that I notice so much lately, but in the previous few years I think the idea slowly crept in to my mind. The more time I spend
amongst these girls, the more they tell me about their hallucinations and experiences (sometimes described as mystical), and
the more I start to expect to see and experience these things and believe that their reality could easily be my reality...especially
if I didn't have so many "facts" and scientific knowledge/critical thinking skills. That's what happens when you
read Robert Anton Wilson's books. You start to believe the things he describes are real (or at least possible to experience
by playing with your mind) and you begin to test "reality" and, by Eris, it fails miserably! What he writes, he
creates and brings to "reality," by spreading it like memes to multiple minds...and gets paid to do it. I looked
a little up online about auditory hallucinations. I was hoping to explain my present condition as simply blood pumping through
an artery or vein near my ear canal. I tried to see if my pulse matched the sound. It did at first, but last night it seemed
to have speeded up and slowed down while my heart and breathing remained steady. I think of the sound as more like a person
panting now, rather than a washing machine or footsteps in snow. What's a little frightening is the thought that it has started
out at a distance and is getting closer. Should be interesting to see where this leads...
4. When putting on clothing, I always start witht he left (sleeve, pant leg, shoe). That's one ritual I have not rid myself
of. I also get uncomfortable when I see others dress and start with the right. I broke my aversion of odd numbers when I became
obsessed with the numbers 5, 17, and 23. I don't know why I ever had a problem with odd numbers, but I found it interesting
when I later discovered that odd numbers are masculine and even numbers are feminine. It makes sense, since I've always preferred
the company of females to males. Recently, I have been theorizing that my goal in this present incarnation is to become more
in touch with the feminine side. That seems to be what direction I'm being led by the universe. (Or, if you prefer, that's
my current number one delusion...along with the "destined to become a psychologist" one).
I don't think Charles Manson is insane. If he's insane, then I'm insane (Ken, that is not helping your argument). I've
studied his life and watched him in interviews. If you take the time to try and understand why he thought the things he thought,
did the things he did, read the books he read, study the different religious beliefs or quasi-religions (Scientology, The
Process Church of Final Judgement) that he did...with as much objectivity as possible, it's easy to see things the way he
did. If you knew nothing about the Tate-Labianca murders and read some of what he's written about the situation our planet
is in, he sounds very very sane. He's extremely concerned with nature. I would guess that he would be a perfect poster boy
for organizations such as PETA, ELF, Sierra Club, etc. Even knowing the details of the grizzly murders (that he never committed)
I find him to be much saner than our current president. Both have a nasty tendency to believe that the ends justify the means,
but at least Manson seems to have a healthy view of what those ends should be: the end of pollution and slaughter of trees
and animals. And between Manson and Bush, who's responsible for the deaths of more innocent people? But that's all through
my own bias against the rich and global corporization. There I go again with my horrible bias of peace, love, freedom... It's
no surprise why young people would follow and idolize Manson. Then or now. He's more a philosopher than a murderer. It's too
bad he let his ego get in the way. He could have done wonderful things if he had learned to control his anger. The more books
you read about what happened in the summer of '69 with him and his family, the more difficult it is to decide where the truth
may lie. What upsets me most is that he wasn't allowed to defend himself at his trial. Bugliosi feared he would hypnotize/persuade
the jurors the way he did his young disciples. Persuade them to do what? Let him go free? Isn't that the goal of every defendent
in a trial?! Although he did try to attack the judge. ...Oh, Charlie.
Last night I told myself I would dream about Hannah (girl from class) and I ended up dreaming that I would tell myself
I would dream about Hannah. And I then I proceeded to dream about Hannah (a dream within a dream? Or the same dream?) I don't
remember details.
I think it can he healthy to foster mpd. Actors do it all the time--the really good ones, at least. "Know thyself"
should be changed to "Know thyselves."
I wish Buddhism would stop being called a religion. Especially Zen Buddhism. It's not a religion, it's a way of experiencing
the world without so many filters. It's closer to science than religion. Although, as my bi-polar, mpd, borderline, hair yanking
friend(?) would say, to quote Bjork: "I'm no fucking Buddhist!"
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