Acid Trip

Here’s a bit of a recap of ancient history for you: on the 10th of March 2018 I was in Trinidad and Tobago, specifically the Trinidad part (the Tobago part is a separate island that the locals set aside for holiday-makers).

The wife was in the mall looking for gosh-only-knows-what; the usual things that women look for in malls I imagine. Meanwhile, I was spending my time in a bookshop; the only sensible place for a bloke to wait for his woman, with the possible exception of an electronics store.

Whilst browsing the shelves, I found this (45 is the price in TT Dollars (about £4.93 at the current going rate)):

As I was standing there and reading the cover of that book, I got an idea and so, to remind me of the idea later on (like, now!), I took that photo and then wrote the following in a draft on WordPress:

I want to edit a collection of short stories written by people as they are in the throes of their first acid trip.

Back to 2021, aka now, I’m on a drive to clear up my Drafts Folder here in WordPress and so my mission for today is to deal with this note from my former self.

First things first: I’m no longer interested in writing down someone else’s experience of tripping on acid. That would be like listening to someone else’s dreams. And yeah, I know – dreams are interesting. But not to someone else. Dreams are only interesting if they are your own dreams. You can verify this quite easily by saying these words to your partner, friend or random person in the street: “I had this really amazing dream last night!!” Watch their eyes carefully at this point. No matter how much they love, respect or care for you, their eyes will start to glaze over and, if you talk for long enough, you will find that they either fall asleep or slip into the kind of deep coma that requires years of life support and then months of therapy when (or if) they eventually awaken, at which point they will look around with wild, wide-open eyes and say “am I safe? have they gone?!”.

So, yeah, no experiences of acid trips.

What I want to do instead is plan out my own acid trip on my 100th birthday (a gift to myself on that glorious occasion).

I don’t really want to have a conventional acid trip (not that I even know what that means). I have no experience with acid and very little with any kind of drugs. I mean, sure, I did try some Mary Jane whilst on holiday somewhere warm in my twenties. but that did nothing to or for me other than render it impossible for me to pee (even though I was ‘bursting’ to do so). Imagine me standing there in the loo thinking ‘why is this not happening?’. Yeah, I know – weird, right?

By ‘conventional’ I mean that I have no intention of flying from an upper story window or watching the vines in the pattern on the carpet grow into my legs like crazy veins or giggling uncontrollably at the way that the birds in the trees are fluffing their lines as they try to give their version of the first act of Fantasia (the show where Micky Mouse is The Sorcerer’s Apprentice).

No. Instead of all that, I just want to experience The Ultimate!

I’m not at all sure what The Ultimate is, but I’ve got a fair few decades left to figure that out. I’ll work on my meditation, and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll learn some more meditations. And if they don’t work then I’ll approach my 100th birthday acid trip with an open mind and a clean heart and just see what happens.

Any-which-way-up, I’m pretty sure it’ll work out fine.

4 thoughts on “Acid Trip

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