WEIRD THINGS YOU DO WHEN YOU EAT SAN PEDRO ALONE IN THE WOODS FOR A WEEK.
* I haven’t posted much during these last few months because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t produce any new writings until I had finished my fucking book, which is a ramshackle story of a Gen-exer comedian’s spiritual awankening crisis via the psychedelic plant path. Anyways someone made a generous paypal donation to my cause and I suddenly realised, wait a minute - I can just post up bits of what I’ve been working on these last few months.
This section dates back to 2017, pretty much when I was balls deep in my self-initiation process and after an Ayahuasca trip where I was informed that I was The Chosen One and in the process, totally losing the plot somewhere up the deeper reaches of my own asshole.
EXCERPT FROM WORK-IN-PROGRESS: THE TEACHINGS OF DON HUACHUMA.
It was a relief to finally be recognised by myself as the Chosen One. What the medicine had told me only confirmed my suspicions that I was indeed the pivotal wheel on which the fate of mankind turned, and not just a failed performer who had simply blown his higher centres with a powerful psychedelic medicine, thereby amplifying his egomania which stemmed from deep childhood self-esteem issues and a total lack of grounding. But there was still some work to be done before I was truly able to fully embody the role of being the saviour of mankind and I was to begin training immediately. This training I decided, consisted of taking every psychedelic known to mankind and lots of them, all the time, until I gained enlightenment and brought paradise on earth so my egoically diffuse groupies could finally suck my cactus when I was on my book tour.
The week following my breakthrough Ayahuasca experience with Eagle Gaze, I’d found myself in the Los Angeles Arboretum staring at a gigantic San Pedro cactus that lay at the end of a long, winding walking path in the likeness of a giant snake. The cactus was around four metres tall and shaped like a many branched candelabra. Aware of the snake-swallowing-the-neophyte death/rebirth motif of shamanic initiation, I respectfully blew some tobacco smoke at the centre of its trunk.
Eat me, it told me in a deep voice.
‘I’d like to Grandfather, but there are too many people around right now to harvest some of…