The first time I did Salvia, I was home from a night of drinking, debated with my buddy as to what cat-nip would do to a human, We smoked some and then soon after decided to pack the bong with Salvia. That night I experienced a complete and total dissolving of my physical being in the most terrifying of ways. It scared me straight for a month, not even beer or weed was wanted, sobriety it seems, was the best option.

 For two years I stayed away from Salvia and for two years I contemplated visiting that world under more respectful circumstances…when it comes to certain things, Intention is everything and sometimes intention is not enough.

 It was a sunny day, I went into my room, brought my grenade bubbler with me, which I’ve playfully dubbed the ‘peace pipe’. I took my pants off, remembering last time, and thinking to myself if anything weird happens again, at least I’ll be comfortable.

 The first rip was light, nothing…I packed a little more, second rip, held, and exhaled and the face twist soul pulling came, I gently hit the ground and the effects were quickly gone…everything was familiar, the twist, the pull…but it wasn’t strong enough. I emptied the bowl and packed it full of Salvia and took a heavy and final rip.

 Imagine a roller coaster, slowing moving up the first and highest drop of the ride and then suddenly she takes you, twisting and pulling your soul through your face and suddenly every bit of your physical being pixelated is blown away like a sand sculpture in a wind storm.

 You’ve crossed over and then the fear hits you…you’re on the other side and you are not ready, you’re still just as scared as you were the first time and who knows how long you have been gone. Time and Space are distorted heavily…Salvia’s gravity is akin to a black hole and you fight with all your being to come back…

Trying my best to keep my shit together, and trying my best to come back, I stumble to find my house mates…my last connection to this reality, and slowly I started to come back…the ride is short lived, but deep as fuck in it’s depth, you go far, hard and fast and it is frightening.

Absolutely Frightening.  

 I should change my name to ‘Lucky’; ‘Lucky Alvarez’. It’s been a brutal six months. putting out fires, averting disaster and not one casualty. And people say drugs are bad…people say a lot shit about things they know nothing about, Instant experts after some TV show, automatic opinion givers without the consent given to give an opinion, which in most to all cases comes from someone far less qualified than yourself to give advice about your life.

 But every once in awhile…they are right. The past six months have humbled my ass in some sense…I’m learning to listen more to those opinions.  This hustle and flow known as ‘Life’ can be a motherfucker…with it’s dangers and perils, but god damn is it fun.

 But I’m tired man, I’m tired of the red line, I’m tired of putting more out than what I get back…As a homie once said, “It’s OK to say No.”

 I’ll start practicing with ‘Thank you but FUCK NO!’ and now back to work.

 Fuck like a beast and fight like an animal; Everything else is window dressing for a mundane existence that is hopped up as programming for a future scheduled date.

 Let’s get down to brass motherfucking tacks here; we are super evolved primates, with less hair than our cousins and a more sophisticated manner of communication…that is until the dolphin translator comes on line and expose all our chatter as nonsensical crap. 

 A unique species that is plagued with the curse of self awareness and blessed with the gift of self awareness.

 fight, fuck, think, eat, live, breath, and get some sleep. For in the end, for what ever you believe, it ends all the same…a twisted poet justice of the strangest kind.

  I love the band Social Distortion. Mike Ness is a fucking genius when it comes to conveying the pain of life, love and death. These are the things that matter most to me, these are the things that we really only have. Life being the number one cause of death, love being the only thing that matters and death being the only guarantee you have.

  It’s fucked up, I know…but it’s not fucked up, because that’s how things are…What’s fucked up is that we can’t accept the fact that, that’s all there really is when you boil down this existence to it’s visceral reality. You came here, because somebody came and you exist in this… trying to make sense of the absurd and sooner or later you die.

  You die young, you die old…either way, you’re going to die. Hopefully, if you’re lucky enough, you can choose your way out. Do I imply suicide? Not necessarily, but why would I want the ravages of old age and cancer to be a burden upon my loved ones?

  There are two ways I’d like to go out; during orgasm and on stage…either way, it leads to the same place…a place I don’t know and not knowing is okay.

  I enjoy misconceptions of self. Especially when it comes from others. It’s only natural, we operate on assumptions and limited information in regards to our whole reality, which falls into perception of the other…but to clarify, I do enjoy sex, drugs and rock’n’roll.

  In some ways, I am trying to achieve a lucid insanity that serves me as, say any tool would, except what I’m trying to do, is wrestle down a female suicide bomber and have her sexually submit without the bomb blowing up in my face.

  In other words, as in the words of Hunter S. Thompson, “When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.” It’s going pro with the crazy, accepting that shit as some stray dog that wont leave and that will always be with you. 

I think about my impending demise on a daily basis, and I’m not talking about an audit from the IRS. My father died when I was 12 and every since then, Death, that cold and loving mistress has been on my mind ever since.

Fear not, I’m far from suicidal…although some of my behaviors might suggest otherwise, I do prefer and enjoy immensely ‘near-life experiences’ whether induced through drug experimentation or riding the edge of nothingness.

I’m an apathetic deist…which is redundant, but let’s not argue semantics here…

Instead, let’s get down to brass tacks and think responsibly while I drink and write irresponsibly; for once the writ word has left my fingers and entered your mind, interpretation is no longer my responsibility.

What you think is such and that, is nothing…point to a foundation that does not reduce itself into pure and utter absurdity, and what you find is the dreadful worlds of solipsism and nihilism…AND not that, that is a bad thing…but not the most functional in a world filled with the Other…even if the Other is a figment of one’s imagination, we still have to dance with that imagination.

Life is based on assumption. 100% certainty is an illusion and in some sense, so is this statement…the goal is to climb out of this proverbial dog chasing it’s own tail quandry, but in the end…you have to make a choice…it’s binary, even the negation of choice is a choice.

So choose and choose wisely, because all you got is this one shot in the talking monkey show known as life on earth. Sleep well kids.

What if Williams didn’t die?…what if the only brotha’ in “Enter the Dragon” didn’t die? Who would have won Mr. Han’s Martial Arts tournament?

Once again, the black man was framed for some bullshit…in this case, it was the ‘Human Fly’ he saw, who while he was ‘investigating’ Han’s island was inadvertently setting up the only guy in the film with the perfect Afro…

Under the influence, the Alvarez Brother’s in earnest began an intellectual discussion regarding the merits of such a tournament….

Fucking bullshit. Fucking Corruption…that thing that keeps you warm and safe at night…corruption, that unforgiving whore of a mistress…mind you, it’s not possible to leave the island.

In the end it would have been Lee over Williams with a one-inch punch for the win…not quite the Dim-Mak but pretty damn close.

The last thing I would want you to do is think. I would hate for you to pay attention outside of anything else except for Sports game, American Fucking Idol, Religion and The God damn Food network. Rome controlled via the bread and circus…’Pax’ Americana has done the same. Don’t hold yourself responsible for your own actions, don’t dictate the terms of your reality…Blame others, especially God or in some rare cases, even the Devil.

Because what truly matters is my bling, my big ass rims, and whether my team made it to the big game…fuck kids with Cancer.

Critical thinking? what the fuck is that high brow intellectual bullshit you speak of? “purposeful reflective judgment concerning what to believe or what to do.”

Don’t educate yourself…school is for chumps…appeal to authority, like to some asshole celebrity who’s good looks makes him an authority on everything from Politics to the best shoes for this years Kentucky Derby.

And Whatever you do…Don’t Do Drugs…they are really really really bad for you…Praise the Lord instead.

I ate some acid before the Social D show…I didn’t know what was going to happen. My partner in crime, a baby gangster of sorts ate some shrooms…Rock Shows and psychedelics don’t really mix.

It’s like taking a nice Jewish girl to an Al-qaeda approved restaurant. Actually, it wasn’t that bad…the last time I did psychedelics at a rock show, it was for Ozzy and Rob Zombie was opening for him…I recall in the midst of the trip and in the fiery furry of Zombies set, I thought to myself, “If HELL is a rock show..sign me the fuck up.”

Al Capone once said, “Hell must be a swell place, cus’ everyone is trying to keep you out.”

I have a version of hell: Eternal Midnight, Clean Drugs, non-fattening fast foods and deserts, STD and Pregnancy free sex and plenty and plenty of Jameson…because God knows after all that bad craziness one could sure as hell use a respite from the devilish party that is.

Sleep well kids.

I don’t mind things blowing up in my face. I don’t mind crazy and even the occasional psychotic; I was married once.

We always think we know ourselves best, but in reality we can be at times our biggest public relations fraud, not wanting to put out the full story for fear of judgment and rejection. We pick and choose carefully the reality we want others to perceive. Heaven forbid that one’s own enemies really know the truth behind the beast that lies in wait…a beast that feeds on booze, bitches and blow.

Why sugar-coat? why lie? to protect other’s mainly?…but from what? to maintain that illusion? fuck that.

You got one shot at this bitch, make it count and leave a broken, used up corpse. Don’t be so vain to hope for an open casket…you’d be taking up space and you might as well feed some worms while you’re at it…doing absolutely nothing as you rot.