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I see no reason to burn my abandoned bridges,
It doesn't make me amoral.

- Did you notice when I stopped laughing,
- Do you see the insincerity in my smile?

It's just so much easier to be pleasant,
With small talk and remembered jokes,

- Do you care that I used to,
- Do you give a shit that I don't?

After all we might end up friends,
Though I can't imagine why.

- I'm happy when you're there, of course,
- I'm just happier when you're not.

Just another number in my phone,
That I'll probably never need.

Shift-;
Shift-0
Alt-F4

If the truth can be told so as to be understood it will be believed

Human history represents such a radical break with the natural systems of biological organisation that preceded it that it must be the response to a kind of attractor or dwell point that lies ahead in the temporal dimension. Persistently western religions have integrated into their theologies the notion of a kind of end of the world. And I think that a lot of psychedelic experimentation sort of confirms this intuition. I mean it isn't going to happen according to any of the scenarios of orthodox religion, but the basic intuition that the universe seeks closure in a kind of Omega point of transcendence is confirmed. It's almost as though this object in hyperspace, glittering in hyperspace, throws off reflections of itself, which actually ricochet into the past, illuminating this mystic, inspiring that saint or visionary, and that out of these fragmentary glimpses of Eternity we can build a kind of a map of not only the past universe and the evolutionary ingression into novelty, but a kind of map of the future.

This is what Shamanism has always been about. A Shaman is someone who has been to the end It is someone who knows how the world really works, and knowing how the world really works, means to have risen outside, above, beyond the dimensions of ordinary spacetime and cozooistry and actually seen the wiring under the board: stepped outside the confines of learned culture and learned and embedded language into the domain of Wittgenstein called the unspeakable, the Transcendental presence of the Other, which can be sectioned in various ways to yield Systems of Knowledge which can be brought back into ordinary social space for the good of the Community. So in the context of 90% of human culture, the Shaman has been the Agent of Evolution, because the Shaman learns techniques to go between ordinary reality and the domain of the ideas: this higher dimensional continuum that is somehow parallel to us, available to us and yet ordinarily occluded to us by cultural convention out of the fear of the Mystery, I believe, and what the Shamans are, are people who have been able to de-condition themselves from the community's instinctual distrust of the Mystery, and go into this bewildering Higher Dimension, and gain Knowledge, recover the jewel lost at the Beginning of Time, save souls, cure, commune with the Ancestors and so forth and so on. Shamanism is not a religion - its a set of techniques, and the Principle Technique is the use of psychedelic plants.What psychedelics do is they dissolve boundaries; and in the presence of dissolved boundaries One cannot continue to close One's eyes to the ruination of the Earth, the poisoning of the Seas and the consequences of two thousand years of unchallenged Dominator culture, based on Monotheism, hatred of Nature, suppression of the Female and so forth and so on. So, what Shamans have to do is act as exemplars by making this cosmic journey to the domain of the Gaian Ideas, and then bringing them back in the form of Art, to the struggle to Save the World.

The Planet has a kind of intelligence, that it can actually Open a Channel of communication with an individual human being. The message that Nature sends is transform your language through a synergy between Electronic culture and the Psychedelic Imagination; a synergy between Dance and Idea; a synergy between Understanding and Intuition, and dissolve the boundaries which your culture has sanctioned between you. Become part of this Gaian Supermind. I mean I think it's fairly profound, it's fairly Apocalyptic. History is ending, I mean we are to be the generation that witnesses the Revelation of the purpose of the Cosmos. History is the shock wave of the Eschaton. History is the shock wave of Eschatology. And what this means for those of us who will live through this transition into Hyperspace is that we will be privileged to see the greatest release of Concressed Change probably since the birth of the Universe. The twentieth Century is the shudder that announces the approaching Cataracts of Time over which our Species and the destiny of this Planet is about to be swept."If the truth can be told so as to be understood it will be believed".The emphasis in House music and rave culture on physiologically compatible rhythms, and this sort of thing, is really the re-discovery of the art of Natural Magic with sound. That sound, properly understood, especially percussive sound, can actually change neurological states, and large groups of people getting together in the presence of this kind of music are creating a telepathic community, a bonding, that hopefully will be strong enough to carry the Vision out into the main stream of Society.

I think the Youth culture that is emerging in the nineties is an End of the Millennium culture that is actually summing up Western Civilisation, and pointing us in an entirely different direction; that we are going to arrive in the Third Millennium in the middle of an Archaic revival which will mean a revival of these physiologically empowering rhythm signatures, a new Art, a new Social Vision, a new relationship to Nature, to Feminism, to Ego - all of these things are taking hold, and not a Moment too Soon.

Seems like a while since I blogged… So I'll try not to ramble. But will anyways.

There's this beautiful man on campus that I've seen a couple of times. Absolutely amazing. And I don't mean sexy or foxy or cute. I mean beautiful. Like something out of a book. Never heard him speak though, and I don't think I want to.

Last Thursday wasn't too good. At least it started pretty good, but the posse out was somewhat lacking, and the night ended with a gawd-awful string of uber-couply numbers. Would have been much better if we'd have gone home when that lot started, needed to wait for the rest of the taxi peeps. Also I was wearing the smallest top I own, that I had just bought, along with way too much eyeliner. Always fun.

Last Friday was really good though, I'm a big fan of RAG events where they sell sweets in the union. Plus the music was really, really great, the kind the never play at top banana. From the string of indie numbers at the beginning through to the indie-pop at the end. Fantastic. Also I got to dress as the campest thing I've ever seen, primarily due to the crop-top, nail varnish, eyeliner and feather wings. Also on Friday I finally bought myself a good new pair of earphones. Well chuffed.

Had a good Saturday too, big lunch at Giles' was the main event there.

Sunday I spent mostly sleeping.

Monday was assessed lab time, then a lovely buffet dinner with Mikey, Giles, Simon and three bottles of wine which was fab and then followed by a really good topB. Why was it good? 'Coz there were good friends and good music, obv. [No, because you were drunk on arrival and didn't have to deal with the state of the union - Ed. ‘07]

Tuesday, today, another assessed lab and a deadline, so not so much of the happy there. But I'm still good. Need to get the whole course side of things sorted now… In the meantime I'm off to Stratford. Not quite sure why at the moment, but I'm sure that will become clear when we get there.

Oh, and Xander has the IQ of a cream cracker.

I am told, by people who know, that suicide engenders months, and years, and decades, of self-recrimination in those close to the dead. That by taking your own life you can ruin other lives, sometimes permanently. But that isn't really worth sticking around for. What do you care? You're dead!

I am told, by people that I suppose know these things - though god knows how they can - that suicide brings an awful clarity. As you watch the point of no return slide away from you and lie there paralysed. Chemicals working, blood draining, whatever. And you realise suddenly that you were wrong. You realise how beautiful life is, how precious every breath, how awe-inspiring every sight and sound and smell and touch and taste is, purely for it's own sake.

I really don't understand how people can walk down the street so blasé when above them lies a sky of the most perfect azure, and they never look up. Why do I seem to be the only person who chuckles to themselves as he notices that every pigeon in Leamington is flying around in a panic because they believe that that helicopter is some sort of uber-hawk come to gobble them up?

Climb a hill. In the dark. Alone. Alcohol and a torch are optional, but a Stanley Knife and a mobile phone are very much required. No mood music allowed. Including singing to yourself. Watch the stars or the city lights. See if you come back down again. See why you come back down again.

SOMEONE RONNED ME!!
BITCH!!
That is all.

I wish.
I scream it across the rooftops and whisper it in dark corners.

I wish I could be as confident as when I am drunk, as enthusiastic as when I am wired, as honest as when I am online.
All the time.

I wish I had them ambition and drive to go with the 'ability'.

I wish I found a someone to find joy in me; simple and profound.
So much power and eloquence in one smile.

I wish I had a second chance.
Over and over and over… I just want to get it right. Just once.

I wish I could catch you when you fall.

I wish we would never fall out again.

I wish I was beautiful, powerful, rich, free.

I wish I could fly.

I wish I knew who I was.
Which one of these pseudo-schizo characters I am. If any.

I wish I didn't need.

I wish I could make you cry as well as laugh.

I wish I was unique.

I wish I could take your pain.
I'm the only one who seems to appreciate it for what it is.

I wish I could feel your joy.
Pleasure in things I can never understand, simply because I am not you.

I wish I transcended.

I wish I could go where you go, see what you see, love what you love.

I wish I never had to lie again.

I wish I didn't care.

I wish someone would read this and smile.

I want to see the stars.

How good was DV8??
I love that place!
I know, its a converted warehouse, and kinda dingy, and mega tacky with all the red drapages they've put up now. But the dancefloor is still three times bigger than Nightingales (or Bows), the music is still fantastic (better than either Bows or NGs), and there is still plenty of space on the stage for someone prepeared to shake their booty (stage in NGs is tiny, and there isn't one in Bows, natch). Also, I could pretend that the fact that it has the best oogling platform that I've ever seen does not effect my decision, but I'd be lying. I love it all. Every bit.

And the whole night cost me £17. Train, bus, taxi, entrance, drinks and Lucozade tabs included.

Here's to more trips brumwards.
-edanx