Category: Selfhood

Poetry challenge from RG: Vastness

Vastness

 

Most folks will say “look up! at that little twinkling star”,

& maybe rattle numbers off – “it’s really, REALLY far!”

suppose it’s true, cosmos are large, perhaps they’re kinda big

but look down at your bag of skin and let your daydreams dig

Seven billion people roam our “vast” tiny Earth

But seven billion billion billion atoms teem within one’s girth

They talk and play and scream and die as we all are right now

They love and hate and question fate and probably tip cows

All the while praying watching, wondering what they are

Colossal chemists peering in from microscopes afar

So don’t feel too small or look to stars to find some spacious wealth

The vastness of a universe is really in yourself

 

 

 

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I knew not to stand up

but I stood up anyways.

I knew not to feed the cats

but I fed them anyways.

I knew not to take my meds

but I took them anyways.

I knew I should smoke (instead of resisting),

but I resisted anyways.

I knew not to stay awake

but I stayed awake anyways.

I knew not to eat breakfast

but I ate breakfast anyways.

I knew not to exercise

but I exercised anyways.

I knew not to shower

but I showered anyways.

I knew not to shower or shave

but I showered and shaved really well anyways.

I knew not to go to class

but I went to class anyways.

I knew not to stay in class

but I stayed in class anyways.

I know that after all of this I’m not supposed to feel shitty

but after all of this I feel shitty anyways.

Playing with Clay

Even dancers can’t dance like he did. Sometimes, especially lately, his words go buzzing between my ears. “The fight is won or lost far away from witnesses – behind the lines, in the gym, and out there on the road, long before I dance under those lights.” This video is really pretty. The smack of the gloves at 1:07 is the most electrifying feeling on earth. I hope everyone, in their busy lives and busy worlds, has their own way of feeling that smack

 

 

Tripping in context

Let’s say you’re sitting at a bar. You’re 1.5 drinks in: confidence blows in the sail of your diaphragm, smiles are beginning to seep from your cheeks, and the voice in your head informs your sad, previously sober-self: What the hell – I really can achieve my goals, and I really do take myself too seriously, and thank the lord for alcohol! We have to do this more often, you mopey fuck!” As GABA floats across the lanes of your head-highways your brain – rather, you – find yourself settling into a disorganized and disinhibited state of bliss. Euphoria is too complicated a word for a feeling this normal. You’re calm once more.

You’re alone in that sense. Somehow your eyes receive some brainspace from your nose, which has utterly hijacked your experience with an awful perfume smell. An older woman 2 seats over is the hare to your tortoise and the current colonizer of your nostrils. You see that she is already a walking (sitting) vessel for a bottle of wine. She orders another. Some song that your dad really likes plays on the bar speakers as you peek down at her right ankle. No mistaking the Louis Vuitton purse at her side, nor the 3 prescription bottles inside of it. Your background in medicine, druggery, and institutionalization have taught you about privacy, but being medication savvy, 3/4 of a second is all you need: notice that the pill bottles all look fresh but bear different logos: St. Paul Corner Drug, CVS, Walgreens Pharmacy. Citizen-healthy-voter you shouldn’t peek, shouldn’t judge, so you look away and try to mind your drink. Hospital-you sees the after-image of the bottles in your mind’s eye. Amphetamine, Xanax, Prozac. Yet another rich lady with a gaggle of doctors. A gaggle of neuroses, sure, and based on her medication choices she’s well aware of her own difficulties. The problem is, these medications shouldn’t be prescribed together. Any legitimate care provider would know not to prescribe an antidepressant with a benzo with a stimulant anywhere other than a college basement. The bartender asks if you want another – in the 1/2 second before answering you have a moment of sadness for all the doctors who are persecuted for prescribing. Yeah, America, blame the doctors for your kids taking adderall. Keep blaming the doctors for Prozac being ineffective. Keep blaming a bunch of debt-laden medical students for doing their best to please you. And then jump onto the next miracle cure, why don’t ya, until the next miracle cure fucks you up. And fuck wine, you think to yourself loudly. You try to remember that there’s no need to be judgmental. Even though you won’t ever relate to this lady she’s ruined your state of mind, which honestly isn’t her fault. So much for the calm.

Then, Grandma-Glamorous yells something that actually resonates: GOSH, I MEAN FOR A MAJORITY OF PEOPLE WITHOUT MAJOR DEPRESSIVE DISORDER, NONE OF THESE ANTIDEPRESSANTS WORK ANY BETTER THAN LIFESTYLE CHANGES ! THEY SAID ON THE NEWS THAT THEY’RE USING THOSE MAGIC MUSHROOMS TO MAKE THE BLUES GO AWAY, HAVEN’T YOU HEARD? DOESN’T A LITTLE WOODSTOCK SOUND MORE FUN THAN WHINING? Fearfully, you almost glance down at her purse again to see if she’s carrying any tabs. She isn’t. What is this lady onto, anyways? She’s not like you: She’s never hallucinated (recreationally or clinically), she prefers medication over lifestyle changes, she drinks like a fish, and – despite her ability to rattle off study findings – appears completely medically irreverent. She’s also upper class and has uttered words supportive of the Trump administration. You wonder if she has a therapist and realize that it doesn’t really matter. She is a consumer and she wants what she wants what she wants. So how do these folks, abusive yet wary of all things prescription, come to love magic mushrooms?

What about the clinicians who are eager to publish? Their credibility requires that they not abuse medication, and that they be less wary of prescriptions. In fact, they must plunge headfirst into pharmacological interventions despite any wariness they experience. Their patients rely on it.

What about you? The nerdy, liberal-leaning undergrad? You have seen in your own body the disastrous effects of various prescription drugs. You’ve also seen in your own body the disastrous effects of various psychedelic drugs. You’ve also seen the benefits of both of these classes of drugs. So, let’s get serious.

What do psychedelics have to offer to the everyman? To the world of clinical psychiatry? Are psychedelics like psilocybin, LSD, or MDMA beneficial for mental health? Are they harmful for mental health? How do their effects differ between younger and older people? Between men and women? Are these drugs more effective for people with diagnosed illnesses? Less effective? Dangerous? If I have major depressive disorder, and medications aren’t working for me, should I ask the young fella at the bar if he knows where to buy some shrooms?

 

 

On today’s episode of crowtalker

16 dorks sitting in a tree across the street from CVS (across Fairview)

Saw them yelling up there from my spot on the Grandview Grille stoop. Came over here next to the NiceRide bikes to have a closer looked. We yelled at each other for a bit:

 

caw-caw-caw-caw-caw-caw: 6 caws, high-pitched, was came often

cawww-cawww-cawwww: 3 caws, longer/slower, deeper & more prounounced

3 or 4 of the screamers were really bouncing, & their torsos bobbing & bopping looked like they were heaving each caw with all their strength. Really neat to see. The eensy weensie ittie bittie branches atop the tree where they sat absolutely rocked as the screamers dedicated their entire abdomens towards crow-calling

After 10 minutes they all took off in unison, headed north/northwest. Fun stuff.

As I type this, I hear 3 more caws from a single crow. I look up – a pair of them have re-entered the eensy wensie ittie bittie branch zone

When I looked up just there, they left. For some reason I feel or expect that there should be more crows up there, lingering silently. Maybe there are but I can’t see them