Pync ZOmbies!!!

***Updated the post date on this thing.***

Holy shite! I'm 28 as of June 2nd! Goodbye curse of the 27!

So here's a story for you. Some old history fer yah.



The talk in the sync scene lately has been on the color pink.

Pync/p!nk/dink/bink/kind...you know two in the pync one in the sync hole? Oh dear.

This color attracts some profound response for numbers of reasons. Fear for some, Joy for others, and the mixing of the two of course. All of which valid, all of which needing consideration based on how you feel about it and where you wanna take your brain. All of which has and will continue to be observed and categorized. All of which we may have been through an infinite amount of times already. But I feel the chaos of my own mind sees change about to happen. An end to the hideous. A reset. And as much as some of us DON'T want to start at square one I believe it may be inevitable to once again return to the paramecium we evolved from. Maybe we'll get it "right" the net go round. Maybe we will 2012 it up and shift from our degenerate ways and learn to love. All I know is I just typed the words you just read. Almost certain I did..

This is my story...

A long long time ago in a city called Calgary, which is in the province of Alberta, which is in Canada, I arrived at my mothers door step after a year and a half of no contact with her. I was looking for a new home as I had left my Dad's home in British Columbia because of a self induced paranoid trance caused by seclusion, death and the fear most 18 year olds go through. Most 18 year olds drown out the pain of growth via substance in this phase of life. Its safe to say that quite a few lose a friend/family member or two-to death as well. Jon chose meeting it head on with nothing but a little pot. Which, I thought wasn't helping at the time. But now I know it DID help me. The plant helped me along. It was either that or drown my brain in fermented hops(Funny how the polarity works there if you know what I mean.) Not to say alcohol didn't dominate before or after. I'm just gonna talk about that little slice of time where a man starts to get his leaves.

As I was saying I arrived at MOM's door only to find Uncle Jed at the helm. Uncle Jed has a speech impediment caused by traumatic stress from losing 3 of his family members including his most loved little sister in a very short time frame. This caused him to spend four years in the wild. He lost touch with society and was found by a native man who coaxed him to returning with him to be a part of his family. The rest is another story. But as I said Uncle Jed was at the helm of the house as my Mom was actually away working for the day, which was new and shocking news. I took this as an opportunity to ask Uncle Jed if he could purchase some (((MAAAGIC MUSHROOMS))). Now it just so happens that a drug dealer lived next door and I was "fortunate" enough to get to ingest psilocybin under these most fragile circumstances.

In my disrespectful use of this fungus I was set straight in life.

We sat at the kitchen table and split the 8th... a half an hour later this was what happened...



It was a truly fearful journey into myself. A story I might fully write about one day. My focus will be what happened to me at the first peak of the experience. While wondering the streets local to Mom's house I came to a path by the stampede grounds which I hadn't seen since I was about 9 years old. The path lead up a hill side cemetery called Burnsland Cemetery. Here's a sign for a park that melds into Burnsland... RR!



At the time I figured some peace of mind waited in the serenity of the cemetery. Escape from the fearful spiral I was trapped in. Climbing the hill I could feel my skin turning pink from the increase in circulation. At the top of the hill I felt the full peak of the fungus in effect. The shocking images of tombstones and memorials went on for what seemed infinity. Visions of twitching corpses six feet underground, oozing pink goo from various cavities. Mindless but angry that I was there. Paralyzed I stood. Then a voice began to speak...
~GET OUT! You have no blood here! No bond! No respect! LEAVE!~ I felt a pressure like a hand push against my mid back. Locomotion and the visions continue. Visualizing water fornicated with plastics and garbage seeping into the graves kept the corpses partially animated. Not enough to drive the fresh bodies from their graves, but enough to keep them angry at their families for forgetting them. Enough to let them communicate using their rotting grey brains, telepathically with anyone in the vicinity. And this is where I had my PKD moment. My own Valis intervention. Pink color streamed across my perceptions and created a fleeting terror. I rushed out of the cemetery gate and headed home to die.

AFerrismoon wrote this about me a while back...

"John Kidd of the Accidental Alchemist had a wee run in with the number 237. In the musings at the Synch Hole and environs the number 42 [2x3x7] attracts some response. Because it looks similar to the symbol for planet Jupiter , 42 and Jupiter have coalesced thereabouts. Oddly AMA - 'mamma' in Hebrew also = 42. Kidd = Dick uttered reversely which leads to author PhilipK.Dick.
PKD wrote the VALIS trilogy which began in February/March 1974. He shorthanded it - 2-3-74.
2x3x74=444
This number consolidates the '4' cards of Tarot, via certain orders, thisaway:
4 - D - Tower - Mars - resistance to the movement of Alef. Violent resistance to society by PKD, the taking of drugs, anger towards his wives, paranoia and fear of mainstreamia.
40 - M - HangingMan - Water - Biosphere, within which life develops. Within my take on PKDick's life, The HngingMan may correspond with PKD's 'Valis contact'
400 - Th - HighPriestess - Moon - Cosmic resistance to all. Also the 'veil' and thus an 'unveiling'. apocalypse. The awakenings of PKD found in his exegesis. Valis 'left'

2x3x7x4=168=hours in a week

These cards can represent ' resistance' at archetypal, existential and cosmic levels, respectively.
PKD seemed to spend much of his life 'resisting' the powers-that-be [ animate and inanimate]. He continued writing despite many setbacks. He continued marrying despite all his wives leaving. He resisted leaving California for much of his life."

A while back I tried to talk to Will Morgan about the Pink I saw. He got me reading Valis(audio) and I listened to it about 10 times since. I find I connect to author PKD. Not sure why yet but the color pink is a factor.

Anyways the trip continued for a few hours after I left the graveyard. I made it to Mom's and knocked on the door thinking she might not be there ..but she was. Her eyes met mine as she opened the door. She looked scared at first. No doubt thinking I my have finally lost it and decided to lash out at her for her sins projected on us. My sisters and myself. But she caught the fear in my eye first and her facial expression changed immediately as she dominated the forces at hand. The ball was in her court and the checkerboard was tilted in her favor. I pleaded for mercy and offered her half of the hundred dollars I had tucked in my sock. She let me in and I proceeded to hug her. At that moment she turned into a tree and I a branch. Feeling the child like love for her that I thought was long forgotten. We went up the stairs into the kitchen and sat on the table. I told her everything. She knew I was high already and she was angry about it. Taking the money out of my sock and she lunged her hand at mind to try and take both bills. A bus pass is needed for me to find work so I need the 50 I said. Her eyes retracted in disgust as I told her I need to crawl into a ball and die downstairs. Touching the door knob leading downstairs I felt and smelled bleach. Chemical seeping into my finger tips and into my blood stream. A shower was needed now, but the terror soon returned as visions of chemicals and death literally saturated my body as the water trickled down the drain. Again visions of my filth carried by pipes into the polluted Bow river came into mind then seeping into the soil, then seeping into the corpses. After drying off I slid into my black coffin shaped sleeping bag and visualized jumping off the Petro Canada building and ending it all. But then the fungus began to speak. It told me to get a job and straighten up. To work hard and move forward. I was granted a short period of bliss before sleep took over and the rest is history.

I awoke changed. The mushroom saved me. It took over my ego and steered it right.

After that I couldn't even look at Pink Panther insulation without getting freaked out. Chills and everything.