published my fourteenth, our twenty-sixth survey of employer-sponsored insurance with health affairs and headlines. we added pricssa too
bought convey-r.org. guilherme wouldn't let me buy convextbook.com. meanwhile hannes promoting duckplyr this takes exactly zero seconds
read fear and loathing in las vegas: a savage journey to the heart of the american dream by hunter s. thompson
the drink was beginning to cut the acid and my hallucinations were down to a tolerable level..i was no longer seeing huge pterodactyls lumbering around the corridors in pools of fresh blood
i shrugged and gave him a bill. this garish, deep-orion carpeted lobby of the desert inn seemed an inappropriate place to be haggling about nickle/dime bribes for the parking lot attendant. this was bob hope's turf, frank sinatra's. spiro agnew's. the lobby fairly reeked of high-grade formica and plastic palm trees
"where's the ether?" said my attorney. "this mescaline isn't working"
the main advantage of ether: it makes you behave like the village drunkard in some early irish novel . . . total loss of all basic motor skills: blurred vision, no balance, numb tongue - severance of all connection between the body and the brain. which is interesting, because the brain continues to function more or less normally . . . you can actually watch yourself behaving in this terrible way, but you can't control it
hallucinations are bad enough. but after a while you learn to cope with things like seeing your dead grandmother crawling up your leg with a knife in her teeth. most acid fanciers can handle this sort of thing
lucy! be cool, goddamnit!
that evil little fuck is so guilty that i should probably kill him myself, on general principles
maybe just a fresh adrenalin gland to chew on
and every one of them stark naked, except for the weapons
waitress: hey lou, you know where the american dream is?
after west point and the priesthood, lsd must have seemed entirely logical
failed seekers, who never understood the essential old-mystic fallacy of the acid culture: the desperate assumption that somebody - or at least some force - is tending that light at the end of the tunnel
psychedelics are almost irrelevant in a town where you can wander into a casino any time of the day or night and witness the crucifixion of a gorilla - on a flaming neon cross that suddenly turns into a pinwheel, spinning the beast around in wild circles above the crowded gambling action
just another fucked-up cleric
10/10