3 little gels. Tried them once before, not so many though. Expectations of what will be, desire for visuals long sought after, looking for a good time and a happy new year's eve.

Drop in the evening, around 5:30, knowing I'll be up late, hour of the wolf, hour of the desert. Shit, I'm coming on fast. Good thing I'm around people that know how to handle trippers.

Time passes, unaware, no way to track. On the floor, on the m00n, people come and go. Stare at the ceiling, pulse to the beat, feel the lizard brain take control, and I like it.

Follow a friend down the stairs, enter the house behind the garden. There is a lot going on in here. Sparkly lava lamp, dragon mawari doro, pulsing beat of techno, I get close with the carpet in all its animated glory. A sign says DRINK. Operating the mechanical device containing the water is daunting, but I figure it out on the first try.

Do I have to urinate? I don't really care if I do, but I might care when I come down. I verbalize this concern, and a kind soul directs me to the reeds at the end of the parking lot. A curious way to exist, releasing water. Should I replace it?

Moving from moment to moment, awareness of body fades, corporeal existence a distant memory. Taste, smell, sight and sound, breathing and touching ... they become one, my sense.

Back upstairs, where X is reading ...

 Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery 
        dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, 
        storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon 
        blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree 
        vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brook- 
        lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind, 
 who chained themselves to subways for the endless 
        ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine 
        until the noise of wheels and children brought 
        them down shuddering mouth-wracked and 
        battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance 
        in the drear light of Zoo,
   

Home of the astronomer, friends have gathered, in circles, on couches, eating Thai and chatting. I hold a spring roll, the taste of it too much for my sense to accept. "I'm trying to be subtle, but there's no being subtle about it." This is quite a door you have here.

Wander to the home of the rising sun, the white planet, where different people have gathered. Are they real? My frame of reference for reality lost, I truly understand what it means to be, separate from do. Someone gives me water, and that is what I become. The cat ... the cat knows I'm tripping.

My trusty coat surrounds me, my self-containment. It also rolls with me, comes with me as I defy gravity. I make the leap of faith, and the ceiling is mine!

A deep breath, and I smell/taste/breathe something I do not like. For that brief period of eternity, I exist where I do not want to exist.

Wander outside, the night air fresh.

"You look different without glasses."
"I don't wear glasses, Tyler."
"Duuuuuuuude."

More people now. A truck arrives, bring goodies for the party, and others. They seem real, and they have toys! Mommy grabs me, moves me to the kitchen, makes me sit. "There is a lot going on in this kitchen."

A beautiful woman in a vinyl dress. I am my impulses, and I enjoy her.

Warmed by the flickering, I begin my return. My phone and my Palm are safe on a shelf; she of the rising sun has seen to it. The carpet continues its dance, and the party is in full swing, baby. Time to chill, enjoy my friends, and see what I've learned.