Think of highdeas except not fake.
Are you high? Drunk? Wired? Psychotic? Share the awesome thoughts entering your head while you are in that mode.
This thread is a result of my drunked mode. Not drunk enough to be bad at typing yet. bassir;
Once I was blunted off mad dank shet and I had the epiphany which revealed unto me that Facebook is just a Pokedex for people.
my old mephedrone posts :'(
one time i was depressed and thought everyone was a fractal and that their pasts didn't really mattered because it was shifted and morphed by their own emotions and perspective so they had no real past and they certainly don't have a real future and i became very sad that i fell in love with someone i could never know and yet that's how almost all relationships are and i guess i have to stop wanting to persue something that's finite and embrace the ever-changing infinite pattern of the psyche even my own (this is so hard instead of looking at it in a bright, cheerful manner i feel like looking in a swirling abyss)
then i started to ponder what the hell i liked about them and other ~mysterious questions~
do i like their combination of biology and social influence that gave birth to a unique person for a short amount of time?
once love has fallen out of favor, is commitment the only thing that stands? (this always seemed pretty cold to me)
how much social influence dominates the individual? what if they just vomit out shit that they learned throughout youth? what if they're just a ghost in a machine?
also i kept feeling amazed how one encounter physically alters the brain and i'll contaminate their nerual circuitry until they're dead n_u
last night i kept flickering between severe depression and estatic joy
i got sad because my boifrand had lovers in the past (stupid insercurity thing)
but it's not because i got jealous, it's because i felt bad for all those people when he'd get sexually excited with me
all their memories get instantly masked by new, warm emotions--emotions coming from people they never met or knew
it was like i was invading his mental territory and eating subtly eating his memories and replacing them with new ones coming from me like a cuckoo baby bird and knocking out all the other memories that they just become an "oh yeah, that was fun lol"
maybe i place too much emotion on sexuality
oooh my god there are other thoughts but i can't remember them now
they're all so related to exisitantial-esque things
LOL TEENAGED ANGST
I'm high and I am thinking about my best friend even when I'm not thinking about my best friend
When you rotate the Flower of Life[spoiler](http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQQT-neZvzs_mjYr_zJDnBQlJGUzuaHczEDGa5Y1ho6YBd6LAZn)[/spoiler]
through three dimensions, it looks like this:
(http://img22.imageshack.us/img22/4869/movmetatron.gif)
If I had a gun I would walk down the street and pop out every single one of those orange sodium arc lamps and replace them with some pseudo-mock-gas-fed-flame lamps like they have in all of the period Victorian movies. I hate how those things look with that sludgy orange light.
Quotemy old mephedrone posts
you and me both man.
I realize that there is nothing but myself stopping me from killing. From murder and from swerving and ramming someone in a high speed head on. It would be unexpected, it would be violent, it would be artistic, symbolic and highly elegant, and yet, carnage, it seems like a dream. The act is so simple. I move my fingers to the right the slightest and most measured amount, and plow directly into another vehicle. I would accelerate and continue to crush the sucker until I could not anymore. There would be no explanation for it. Experience requires no such excuse. There is plenty of reasons. I have been tempted many times before, I have seen it play out in my head and replay and often the scenes change and the details shift, circumstances are added, new elements are noted. I love the rush of fatal possibility, the fine edge between control and disaster, between existence and nothing, the inescapable danger, the thrill of magnitude, the beautiful harmony of steal and man united in one cause and flawlessly gliding on hard concrete on top thousands of pounds of metal. Guided by the conscious. And the potential for disaster to coccus with one slight mishap, one miscalculation, one little mistake, intentional or not, is fantastic. I revel in the glory of imagination, twisted it may be. To the poet, and to the simple man, they are not something to fear, but to revere.
I think there is definitely something to fear when a person in an altered mindset thinks well of such action whilst sober
Quote from: YPR on August 10, 2011, 12:59:53 PM
I think there is definitely something to fear when a person in an altered mindset thinks well of such action whilst sober
Ignoring the idea of killing someone as an act of romanticism, you can't ignore the fact that when you're driving, you're only a twitch of your hand away from being dead. That's something to definitely consider.
How do people not get overwhelmed + wierded out by the absurdity of driving cars around.
Quote from: silvertone on August 12, 2011, 11:36:00 PM
How do people not get overwhelmed + wierded out by the absurdity of driving cars around.
A few weeks ago I was driving and the sun was setting behind the trees and it was hazy and you could look right and I was blown away by it and all of a sudden I realized, I'm driving, and I drove home, business as usual.
Quote from: Boognish-Redux- on August 12, 2011, 11:28:50 PM
Ignoring the idea of killing someone as an act of romanticism, you can't ignore the fact that when you're driving, you're only a twitch of your hand away from being dead. That's something to definitely consider.
This is true, but if you fantasize about it you should probably seek counselling
Quote from: Socks on August 10, 2011, 04:23:13 AM
I realize that there is nothing but myself stopping me from killing. From murder and from swerving and ramming someone in a high speed head on. It would be unexpected, it would be violent, it would be artistic, symbolic and highly elegant, and yet, carnage, it seems like a dream. The act is so simple. I move my fingers to the right the slightest and most measured amount, and plow directly into another vehicle. I would accelerate and continue to crush the sucker until I could not anymore. There would be no explanation for it. Experience requires no such excuse. There is plenty of reasons. I have been tempted many times before, I have seen it play out in my head and replay and often the scenes change and the details shift, circumstances are added, new elements are noted. I love the rush of fatal possibility, the fine edge between control and disaster, between existence and nothing, the inescapable danger, the thrill of magnitude, the beautiful harmony of steal and man united in one cause and flawlessly gliding on hard concrete on top thousands of pounds of metal. Guided by the conscious. And the potential for disaster to coccus with one slight mishap, one miscalculation, one little mistake, intentional or not, is fantastic. I revel in the glory of imagination, twisted it may be. To the poet, and to the simple man, they are not something to fear, but to revere.
this is existentialism and existentialism is stuck in the past.
Quote from: vziard on August 13, 2011, 07:14:53 PM
this is existentialism and existentialism is stuck in the past.
You're living in the past man! You're hung up on some clown from the Sixties Man!
I think it's a travesty that driving has become something so nonchalant and thoughtless.
We are controlling two thousand pounds of heavy metal at upwards of 60 miles an hour, and people take it so lightly that they do it while texting, or reading the paper, or eating breakfast, or intoxicated.
It's absurd.
Bedouin tribes ascending from the egg into the flower, alpha information sending state within the heaven shower. From disciples the unending subtleties of rhythm power -- they slip inside this house as they pass by.
doodthing;
Quote from: vziard on August 23, 2011, 06:07:42 PM
Bedouin tribes ascending from the egg into the flower, alpha information sending state within the heaven shower. From disciples the unending subtleties of rhythm power -- they slip inside this house as they pass by.
>song lyrics
i remember when this was serious discussion :'(
Quote from: Tectrika on August 23, 2011, 07:07:37 PM
>song lyrics
i remember when this was serious discussion :'(
at least there are 4 people posting in it now, before there were 0.5
And it was still a highdea, per the topic.
I have once more come to posses a substance similar in nature to the crystalline powder with purest white coat that I so very much adore and seek night and day when stress follows me around wanting to hang out and creativity possessed exclusively from passage into realms of elevated conscious states is in great demand with void supply to make me high for completion of various obligations and self interests which require effort and deeper levels of understanding to properly convey the sentiment I must express before it escapes and regrets murders me and everyone forgets what they never knew of the truths I discovered and formed.
I mean damn, I can't do shit sober and feel stratified toward it anymore. I know the difference and notice the glaring absence of that pizzaz factor which drugs facilitate and transform into pleasing and significant difference in articulation and presentation of premises and anything in between.
What is wrong about wanting more and improvement of ones creations and actions and perception without care for how that comes and goes?
I can tell my pancreas is really warm, and sense it clearly through my abdomen, as sort of numb with this weird feeling like there is a void there. I hope it did not stop functioning.
Quote from: Socks on August 28, 2011, 03:59:48 PM
I have once more come to posses a substance similar in nature to the crystalline powder with purest white coat that I so very much adore and seek night and day when stress follows me around wanting to hang out and creativity possessed exclusively from passage into realms of elevated conscious states is in great demand with void supply to make me high for completion of various obligations and self interests which require effort and deeper levels of understanding to properly convey the sentiment I must express before it escapes and regrets murders me and everyone forgets what they never knew of the truths I discovered and formed.
I mean damn, I can't do shit sober and feel stratified toward it anymore. I know the difference and notice the glaring absence of that pizzaz factor which drugs facilitate and transform into pleasing and significant difference in articulation and presentation of premises and anything in between.
What is wrong about wanting more and improvement of ones creations and actions and perception without care for how that comes and goes?
My problem was the same as yours, too bored with sober reality to not always be under the influence of something, just for the extra fun and challenge in dealing with things 'normally'.
Wore out its fun, though, now I just smoak pot
reality overwhelms me so much that i defend myself against it through dissociative coping mechanisms
huh
how do you guys find it boring
how are you guise not overwhelmed by it cry;
Quote from: Clucky on August 28, 2011, 09:35:15 PM
reality overwhelms me so much that i defend myself against it through dissociative coping mechanisms
huh
how do you guys find it boring
how are you guise not overwhelmed by it cry;
it's so
slow I want things rushing at my senses faster
Quote from: vziard on August 28, 2011, 09:36:36 PM
it's so slow
I want things rushing at my senses faster
i'm the exact opposite
i want things to go very slow that it starts to bleed into my senses and i can feel alive again
i usually feel like everything's going so fast that it's flickering right past my body and i just don't feel a thing--leaving me stagnant in a hazy void
my mind 'feels' slow if i force myself out of my compulsive drive for security (the fear newness produces makes me feel so wonderful, it's raw emotion and it swells me with nostalgic memories of me witnessing strange events that filled me with curiosity--i'm getting better at being less afraid of the unknown and the uncertain. maybe perhaps i would finally be able to handle making mistakes and make as many mistakes as i want without feeling afraid cry;)
Quote from: vziard on August 28, 2011, 09:36:36 PM
it's so slow
I want things rushing at my senses faster
lol heroin
Anyway right now I don't have many ideas but I would like to be with someone to lay next to outside under stars... Friends, girlfriend, whatever... It always leaves me at peace and in a good mood for better thinking
Quote from: vziard on August 28, 2011, 09:18:32 PM
My problem was the same as yours, too bored with sober reality to not always be under the influence of something, just for the extra fun and challenge in dealing with things 'normally'.
Wore out its fun, though, now I just smoak pot
Weed is nothing to sneez at. I can see how that's possible though, with other substances. After a certain point you're just so saturated and it stops being fun and starts becoming a health issue. I am naturally lean and these things Jack up my metabolism and dampen my appetite and thirst and I slowly wither away. And people look at you funny. The high is nothing if your system starts shutting down. If it was not for that, I would be high all the time.
Quote from: Socks on August 29, 2011, 05:08:07 AM
Weed is nothing to sneez at. I can see how that's possible though, with other substances. After a certain point you're just so saturated and it stops being fun and starts becoming a health issue. I am naturally lean and these things Jack up my metabolism and dampen my appetite and thirst and I slowly wither away. And people look at you funny. The high is nothing if your system starts shutting down. If it was not for that, I would be high all the time.
yup.
Quote from: vziard on August 28, 2011, 09:36:36 PM
it's so slow
I want things rushing at my senses faster
Just the thought of reality going any faster makes my gut wrench. But in a good way. Like the feeling you get when you go over a steep ramp in a roller coaster.
Quote from: Hippopo on August 30, 2011, 10:36:03 PM
But in a good way. Like the feeling you get when you go over a steep ramp in a roller coaster.
That's not pleasant whatsoever. A drug rush isn't that way at all. You go over the steep ramp but this time you can fly and soar, and fuck gravity.
Yeah, but if you're relying on that rush to satisfy, then things are not necessarily hunky dory up in your little realm.
I have a good friend who smokes daily and it seems like he's using that as a little crutch now instead of an occasional boost. I understand the insight that comes with everything, but I can't grasp the constant need. It feels like a shortcut.