i don't know that frontal lobe blow was pretty severe, maybe i never recovered properly, i just smoked a shit load of weed and drunk buckets of amazonian shamanic vine until my head cracked open and i saw the fucking light.
that's my story anyway, maybe my mouth has to catch up.
any sane man would have gone to some doctor and had an operation, nope not me, i just had to walk right through that transcendental door and down the rabbit hole.
but you know what? that's the way the cards fell and i think they were all aces, or are they jokers, ha, you decide.
from my perspective i managed to do a few things i never dreamed were possible, and i changed my brain fundamentally in a way beyond neuroscience and prehistoric plasticity could, and apparently that's cutting edge.
my memory download - america. driving cars down the free way into the setting sun, travelling with sarah and that straight guy we corrupted, hanging out with those gay guys who took us to a gay cowboy bar, i was stoned out of my skull as we drove down a spiral mountain road smoking grass listening to reggae. when we got to the bar i felt some kind of culture shock, it took me a few drinks to get comfortable, i ended up having a great night, we were in virginia or carolina, the sun was glorious, the night stars filled the skies, i liked the wide open space, i liked the people, i'd already fallen in love with america but that was the first time i felt free. i could have done anything i wanted, i had a girl in london, sally, i was detaching, not just from her but from london, from everything i knew, london was way behind me, i was hungry for new experiences and the romance of the american road held me captaive, i'd read so many american writers, hunter s thompson, william burroughs, jack, ginsberg, woolfe,their words were already in my dna.
then that band came to my mind, a band i listened to on cassette around the states in that car, 'box of frogs' who were actually 'the yarbirds' reformed.
that was the memory.
my memory download - america. driving cars down the free way into the setting sun, travelling with sarah and that straight guy we corrupted, hanging out with those gay guys who took us to a gay cowboy bar, i was stoned out of my skull as we drove down a spiral mountain road smoking grass listening to reggae. when we got to the bar i felt some kind of culture shock, it took me a few drinks to get comfortable, i ended up having a great night, we were in virginia or carolina, the sun was glorious, the night stars filled the skies, i liked the wide open space, i liked the people, i'd already fallen in love with america but that was the first time i felt free. i could have done anything i wanted, i had a girl in london, sally, i was detaching, not just from her but from london, from everything i knew, london was way behind me, i was hungry for new experiences and the romance of the american road held me captaive, i'd read so many american writers, hunter s thompson, william burroughs, jack, ginsberg, woolfe,their words were already in my dna.
then that band came to my mind, a band i listened to on cassette around the states in that car, 'box of frogs' who were actually 'the yarbirds' reformed.
that was the memory.
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