Update: I just got back from the Whole Foods Market (which is approximately a twenty minute walk one direction from my motel room) with some tasty munchies. The outdoor exposure, exercise, and modicum of social interaction helped me feel back to normal (if not happier than usual). I would like to say that while writing the paragraphs below earlier that I was in a bit of a rush to get ideas out and I had been listening to a lot of cross-talk from what I think are police and/or military base radio communications which might have made me sound more brash and combat-oriented than otherwise. I especially want to amend the fact that I wrote that I take sadistic pleasure in any being’s suffering. The truth is that I never have (except for a few rare and brief moments of wanting to retaliate against people who I felt were intentionally and relentlessly doing me harm despite my efforts to de-escalate conflict while they seemed to demand that I react in displeasure (because diplomacy and most often leaving the situation did not seem feasible)). What I meant to say is that I take pleasure in seeing someone other than me get emotionally upset over things which I think matter rather than act nonchalant because it makes me feel like I am not the only person who is bothered (and when other people express emotions in a more overt manner than I feel comfortable doing or am even physically able to do (over the past few years I have been physically unable to laugh and to cry as easily as I used to), it makes me feel like those people are helping me finish a cognitive process as though we are part of some collective mind processing information which is too complex to be delegated to only one human nervous system). Also, I did not mean to sound like I expect humans to generally treat each other like shit and to easily get into physical fights. For the most part I think people are as conflict-avoidant as I am. It’s too risky to get into fights for trivial reasons. Also, grownups have too many high-level concerns which make getting into childish fights counterproductive to their aims. I seriously think there are far more humans helping me than harming me. Speaking of humans who help each other, I enjoy going to work largely because of the familiar faces. It’s like being part of a family. Even though a lot of our jobs (if not all of them) could be outsourced to robots, I am hoping that the humans can still show up and do those jobs anyway because having somewhere to go besides one’s family of origin to do specific jobs is a comforting routine. When I said that the driving jobs could be outsourced entirely to self-driving cars, I meant only the driving part. It’s nice to have a human present in each of those vans and trucks because those humans help to quality inspect the merchandise and provide a human point of contact with customers and fellow employees which makes the logistics chain less cold and robotic and more infused with human intelligence and warmth.
Around 11AM today I consumed as much of that half ounce of psilomethoxin powder I could stand (not all of it, but probably about 60% of the package). It took about half an hour for the effects to be noticeable. Then I started tripping for hours while lying on the floor of my motel room with the window open and blinds obscuring the window such that daylight came through the edges and illuminated the room enough to see details such as the gravel-like texture of the white ceiling, a crisp white bed with the sheets and pillows removed (to make a nest where I was laying down), a pink west-side wall in a room whose other walls were painted white, and a big flat television screen mounted to the east-side wall. I certainly did get to access a level of perception and cognition which made me think in terms of being inside of one of many (and all possible) dreams (i.e. a MULTIVERSE). I seemed to be assuming the role of God localized to one human individual’s frame of reference and thinking about how I was afraid to die because I thought that I would end up being reincarnated into a “lower” life form or some other being other than myself (and I felt very attached to wanting to preserve the ego what has taken approximately 33 years to construct and curate). I felt that I had to keep giving myself permission to claim a sense of AGENCY instead of to let go of agency. I was still sick from a cold which has lasted for over a week and, while tripping, thought that I had to will myself to not give into socially normalized entropy; to preserve my physical strength, immunity, and cognitive and perceptual functions and their underlying biophysical infrastructure. I thought about how life seems to be perpetual pursuit of satisfaction while not being able to be satisfied (because no experience lasts forever and because the energy which is used to comprise the information and matter which makes the universe I live in possible (including the functions which enable energy to be exchanged and matter to be preserved or altered as time elapses) is restless and reminding me of what is lacking). I thought about how I felt bullied into hiding away from the public because life on Earth is about Darwinian natural selection and not taking up any more resources than necessary to do my personal business.
I thought about how relatively fortunate I was to be a predator more than prey and how aliens and artificial intelligence are probably intervening in my experience of reality in order to control how I behave and think (for the agenda of preserving humanity and humanity’s knowledge structures in digital format). I thought about how I might be living inside of a computer simulation and that my physical body could have already died. I thought about how I might have a choice to select one of limitessly many timeless reality snapshots to add to what seems to be a unidirectional space-time continuum which is essentially what I want and am able and ready to experience.
Recently while talking to my dad on the phone, my dad said that he is grateful for every breath. While in the peak of the high, I felt my body making an effort to breathe and worried that I might die of asphyxiation from mucus-filled lungs.
I thought about how I wanted to preserve human procured knowledge (especially my cluster of personal websites: Karlina Object dot WordPress dot Com and Karbytes For Life Blog dot WordPress dot Com) and that I feel that I have come to a point in my life where I can say that I am minimally satisfied with what I accomplished as a web author (which means that I am now an old person who is supposed to help current and future generations of humans prosper).
I realized that, by being vegan, abstaining from driving a petroleum vehicle, and not smoking (and continuing to publish the types of content I have and to interact with social media as I have been) is the best I can do given my current knowledge (and I feel a sense of moral and quasi-legal obligation to embody KARBYTES as a paragon of self reliance, minimalism, being knowledgeable and proficient in information technology (especially as a front-end web developer and programmer), hermitude, and ENVIRONMENTALLY sustainable and animal WELFARE promoting consumer habits).
The trip lasted for a few hours. My body felt weak and still feels weak because I basically consumed poison. Perhaps I died and woke up in another universe appearing to have lived in exactly one universe for 33 years instead of just a few hours. At the peak of my high I felt personally responsible for making the physical universe manifest. I felt a sense of reality being inescapably solipsistic and of never being able to attain omniscience (even as God) because of my capacity to wonder whether other than what I know exists (somewhere in some time).
The trip compelled me to take self-preservation more seriously and to be more humble in order to not waste energy and to not invite attacks from competitor apes. I believe that I should set the precedent that humans could live for hundreds of years and remain in the peak of their prime for that long. It is a matter of mobilizing our scientific and engineering prowess with the abundance of materials we have in our environment to continue outlasting our ancestors and competitors (and to not let our health nor our knowledge nor our skills atrophy as a result of self-fulling prophecies related to being unaware of how much agency we really have to shape reality in our favor).
I do not mean to say that I can just will things to happen inside of this reality which defy physical laws (i.e. the laws which govern this dream universe), but while super high on that stuff I ate today which tasted like vomit and which made me feel queasy, I thought that taking powerful psychedelics at sufficiently high doses like I did could give me a little extra wiggle room to shape reality at a structural level (much like a player of Minecraft playing the game in Creator Mode (being able to manifest as many voxels of any element as one wants to and while being able to maneuver without needing to eat and without taking any damage which would cripple or end that player’s game play instance) instead of in Survival Mode (only being able to scavenger for elements in the environment rather than to spontaneously manifest them out of nothingness and while having to eat in order to keep moving and while being vulnerable to injury from environmental hazards)). I think that my sense of having an ego and a personal history is possible because I caused a particular sequence of experiences to be rendered (and I choose one of limitlessly many realities to enter at least one time per second).
I want to stop promoting taking pleasure in the suffering of other beings (but I am afraid that sadism might be a hard-wired reflex I acquired as part of my genetic and epigenetic baggage and that other humans in my environment force me to go to war with them when I would prefer to not fight with them). I want to promote being kind and minimizing suffering but I see that, in order for me and my fellow humans to survive, we have to at least kill plants and cultured meat (which are organisms who appear to be comprised of the same intelligence I am but restricted to a less sentient and more comatose state of awareness).
I thought about The Lion King film and how the prey bow and worship the predator lions who pick off their weakest members. They seemed to be bowing to a purpose beyond self preservation which included fostering biodiversity and a particular food chain hierarchy. I imagined that as the majestic lions eat the zebras, the lions are saying, “Thank you for offering your soul essence to become a part of something greater than yourself: nobility”. I thought about how it serves me well to think of myself as part of the human elites rather than a human peasant. The elites use technology to be gods which shape reality while the peasants are, unfortunately, kept in a relatively tech illiterate state such that they are easier to indoctrinate into staying old fashioned and easy to exploit for cheap labor. (Right now I think I work at a niche job position at a company which allows me ample time and without being a “conflict of interest” to be a tech wizard and social media mogul while holding down a low-skilled manual labor job which feels a bit old fashioned in an age where machines could easily replace most of the human employees and where petroleum powered vans operated by humans could be replaced with self-driving electric vehicles).
During the trip I came to terms with the fact that I have essentially been drafted into a war against my will and that, if I want to survive long enough to see my futurist vision be fulfilled, I have to be willing to engage in combat. I mean this more mentally than physically. I have to say goodbye to being a mere pacifist because that person was easy to rape and exploit. I have to be willing to inflict as much physical damage on my opponent as I think necessary to ensure that I have a chance of surviving and of avoiding serious physical harm (and that might mean that I resort to “overkill” means to defend myself because I value my own individual life much more than I value almost anyone else’s).
I would like to be able to get to a point in my life where I am no longer afraid to be tortured nor to suffer limitless forms of agony (including the scenario of being forced to live as an immortal being inside of a torture chamber and never knowing if or when that experience would improve or at least cease). Honestly, I think I am already at that point. I think I am living in hell (and hell is a spectrum of experiences ranging from severely agonizing to somewhat pleasurable but always with the potential for some degree of torment). I think that as soon as I die or go to sleep, I am transported into another life (but that life might be so similar to what appears to be my one and only life that I would not know while sober and awake that I have been alive for much longer than 33 years and that my life might never end). If I could keep going on and on forever, I would prefer to. Here is perhaps the most significant lesson I learned today:
Keep going. There is a chance that things will improve. (Also, you have no choice but to keep existing (even after you go through a death or coma phase). Hence, you might as well keep working hard and investing in the future you want to manifest instead of give up and succumb to decay. As meritocratic and elitist as this might sound, the future does seem to belong to those who have the fortitude to keep pushing for what they want rather than to give up in frustrated fatalistic despair). I figure that, as long as I have all the time I want to exist, I can figure out how to make sense of my circumstances and that eventually I will find a solution to whatever my problem is. (Right now I appear to be saying to my God-like nature, “Don’t give me too many spoiler alerts about what goes on outside of my current survival mode awareness so that I can keep functioning in the societal matrix with as little suffering as possible.” Meanwhile, my larger-awareness God-like nature is basically saying, “Okay. I will only give you details you can handle while I wait for you to meet me at my level and I show you that we are the same being”).
I think it would be a good idea for me to do a high-dose psychedelic session like this approximately one once per month. I want to do it as often as my budget allows and at the optimum frequency to advance my psychonautic knowledge as quickly as possible. I have a hunch that I am on a mission to learn to relax more and to worry less (which is efficient) while attempting to make the chaotic more orderly and comprehensible (but not to the extent that my interfacing with reality becomes too myopic as a result of being closed off to vital information).
If I have one talent to be proud of and to be remembered for, it is my love for technology and my ability to articulate my thoughts in words (and I aspire to make my verbal expressions precise and as objective as possible as though I were a docent at a museum giving a tour to aliens, robots, humans, et cetera of my little partition of reality (especially the parts I study and curate)).
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