I do what I waaant

Fair to say I won't be wasting my money on Ayahuasca again. The final experience, like the two that preceded it, was characterized by distinctly underwhelming side-effects, and a change in my dreaming that was neither beneficial or anymore enjoyable than normal. It was certainly not what I envisaged when I parted with seventy odd pounds of my money, and after 20+ hours spent in the kitchen brewing the plant and faffing around with a hammer, I shan't be rushing back to it anytime soon.

So yes, disappointed, but nonetheless it is a disappointment tempered with the realization that this sort of thing is bound to happen on a typical psychonaut's journey, where failures, mistakes and wasted opportunities are all part of the process. I'm fortunate, I suppose, that I've found my entheogen of choice--an entheogen that provides me with the requisite altered space in which to practice metaphysics and think about the world in new found ways--but it is a shame that Ayahuasca couldn't offer me something else.

Still, there's always Salvia (next year, I would imagine). Diphenhydramine has so far provided me with the biggest mind fuck of my life, but from my research I gather that Salvia takes the mind/reality fucking to a whole new level, so--the nature of my person being what it is--I'm looking forward to it.

In the meantime, my usual entheogen, interspersed with the occasional nighttime gingering. Honestly, I cannot understand why ginger has seemingly no effect on other people when it affects me like it does. My ginger laden coffee concoctions cause a concerted amplification of my mental processes whilst making me feel... for wont of a better word, 'tropical'. It's definitely, definitely not a placebo. As I discerned the other day; while with eyes open the ginger experience is a fun and upbeat one, as soon as you close your eyes the experience is turned on its head; softcore to hardcore in an instant. Don't ever meditate on ginger, that's my advice. It's not that it's particularly psychedelic or trippy; it's that it's a never ending chorus of voices chuntering away that, if you observe for any length of time, are liable to make you go insane.

Speaking of which, I'm currently gingering as I write. It's funny to think that here I am, in my late 20's, and I would rather partake in copious amounts of ginger than alcohol. Yet it is true. Alcohol can be a much welcome addition to the socializing aspect of life, being that it reduces inhibitions and accentuates the emotional state, but beyond that I find little value in it. Ginger is my legal drug--admittedly, not something I would ever dare to have printed on a t-shirt and subsequently walk around parading, but as far I'm concerned, ginger rawks. As for my illegal drug, well, I love it to pieces: if it weren't that there were consequences to taking it, I would do it more than I do. Alas, there are consequences, and as we all realize--or should realize, I should say--balance is required, lest one begins to rely on a substance, losing their personal power and willpower in the process.

This is something I realized long before I ever indulged in such things. Yet even I--Mr Conscientious Psychonaut Man--lost my way a little sometime last year. It's disconcerting to think about now, to recall that period (a few weeks) in my life where I needed to be on something to get through each day; sobriety was simply another word for boredom, in this case a despairingly painful kind of boredom...

So yes, regardless of one's intentions and principles when venturing into the domain of the mind-devices (lol, the ginger's definitely starting to take effect now), it only takes one slip up, one lapse, one lardy da, quasi Eric Cartman moment of "I do what I waaant", and then BANG: there you are, drugged up, chemically-imbalanced and in possession of hobo-esque levels of willpower. Essentially, fucked.