Buzz

INSECTS.
An incredible subject, one i can spend hours on, and still feel like I've wasted my time. I always feel like I'm wasting my time. Digression.
Insects. I need to capture a few hundred thousand, and shove them into a giant glass container with compartments for different species, classified on the basis of the sounds they make.
the sounds. its not music, its not pure noise either. its this overwhelming sound, sometimes getting gradually louder, crescendo, and back down, sometimes smoothly and sometimes too fast for my liking. the sound. that fucking sound. makes me feel like fainting. gets my head spinning. everytime. and its effect and my symptoms never change. and i figure if something can make me feel that way,its got to be awesome.
I wish i knew more adjectives.
fuck.

This is my trip.

Experience is intrinsically golden. At its essence, poetical even.

Who are we? There is no single correct answer to that question, but my answer, and in my opinion the most accurate answer is , we are the sum of all our experiences. But what if , our experiences are polluted, false even? Because if you're sufficiently caught up in the hogwash that is dished out by the moulders of public opinion, you will tend to pollute your impressions at the source.

Your LSD trip is no longer your LSD trip, its Aldous Huxley's, or of one of your friend's friends who consumed some on a trip to Goa, and ranted about it the first and only time you met him.

There is no doubt that you cannot help but be influenced, the world we live in. Experience, sadly will never be completely pure. But what we can do is open our minds. I've opened mine.

What a gulf between Impression and Expression!