On September 11th, 2001, I was at the tailend of a three-week-long binge on psychoactive mushrooms. I'd picked up a pound of quality fungus near the close of August for an agreeable 1600 dollars and decided not to sell any of them, but rather to subsist on nothing but them for as long as I could. The world seemed to be more beautiful than it ever ( Read more... )

I'm making a conscious effort to start sleeping more, if for no other reason than because insomnia is rapidly becoming the hip accessory for the tortured. I think Fight Club should probably accept part of the blame. Also high up on the list of acoutrements for disturbed persons: intrusive thoughts about car crashes; drug habits that just aren't ( Read more... )