Here’s something I wrote a while back.

I sit here in my grey, melting, wingback chair that has become my cocoon of solitary confinement and it hits me: I’ve gone over the horizon. Standing in my yard tonight, smoking a joint, and drinking a beer; I was rather frightened that the metal beasties, with their brazen red, white and blue lights were leaping over the roof of my house, flying sideways and attempting to spring upon me with their menacing roar and little cabin lights when I wasn’t looking.
It was horrifying, like Harkins’ balls. I’m stoned beyond belief… drunk…  it’s quite possibly the happiest that I’ve been in a long time. I just lie in the grass of my front yard, accepting the continuing metallic assault on my senses.

I really want to do some shrooms and go camping.

I think I’m losing my mind in small, tiny increments.

That’s pretty much all I wanted to say.

Yeah, anyway, I guess it’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever written as far as my ability to convey a feeling goes. So yeah.