It all started in the late spring of 1970 when I received a phone call from a fellow dope fiend.
He said I needed to come over to Doctor Dean’s pad as he had some Pretty Cool Pot.  Being that this was during the ever-evolving very fun period of drug experimentation, he needed say no more, I was there!

Once I arrived I went to the back room where I came upon a half dozen known zombies and was immediately offered a toke of a joint that was being passed around.  I took a long slow drag of the strangely-tasting herb and inhaled deeply and before I finished passing the joint I was beginning to feel its effects.
I was slowly melding with the piano bench I was sitting on as it began to move up the side of the room’s wall.  By the time the joint came back around to me I was half way up the side of the wall!  This was too cool!  I took another hit and a peaceful feeling of pure ambivalence overtook me, someone could have come over to me and asked for my wallet and I would have happily obliged, but I was in full control – other than being part of a wooden bench that was attached halfway up the side of the wall.
After some mutual giggling with the other zombies, I somehow detached myself when Doctor Dean told me he was going to Hawaii in a few days and wanted to know if I wanted to purchase some of his PCP stash, I said yes and thus began the beginning of a very memorable psychedelic spring and summer.

I must clarify, this was not your superhuman maniac PCP popularized now, no, this was the original “good stuff” – the “Rocket Fuel” strain came later and that was it for me. This early strain was a very fun, goofy, spacey, tactile-intensive, sensory-distorting, time-warping, laughter-causing mind-bender.

I was pretty much living out of my suitcase after saving up from a government subsidized art department job that I quit after a year and a half.  I got the job at 19 after a very short stint in junior college after high school graduation in February 1969.

A good friend’s parents were away for the summer so I crashed at his not-too-far-from-the-beach house and we celebrated our Lords of the Manor dominion by lacing a joint with my new stash of PCP.
Since his house was also situated not far from the Los Angeles International Airport, we could hear the jet airliners fire up their engines in preparation for takeoff; this sound was the equivalent to “Vacuum Cleaners in the Sky” and with a Mantovani-style Grand Canyon Suite LP playing on the stereo, (a strange favorite at the time), we were both transported to a very weird environment indeed.

We were having so much fun that we wanted to share this high with all of our close friends and decided to throw a party that coming weekend.

But first we had an exciting concert to attend on Wednesday; Ten Years After and Grand Funk Railroad at the Forum and on our way we stopped by a friend’s and got him and his friend so dusted on PCP that they couldn’t get out of their chairs.  We left them reaching out to us for help – they were in no danger and recount fondly to this day on their bizarre experiences once we left.

We had great seats for the concert and decided to drop some Double Dome Acid on top of the waning PCP.  We went with the usual group of rock fiends and were witness to a true Battle of the Bands: Ten Years After / Grand Funk Railroad concert at the Fabulous Forum in Inglewood

That weekend back at the Manor, the more devout and eager drug fiends had begun to arrive early to partake in the evenings’ festivities.
By this time I was starting to have a Tarzan swing from tree-to-tree connection of PCP weirdness as I never really had come down since my first introduction at Doctor Dean’s.  Not to worry, all good things come to an end and I knew that it was just a matter of time before I’d eventually come down and be back to the real world.

As the house filled with partiers who were slowly, or rather quickly, experiencing the fun-filled bizarreness that this drug provided, I was in a back room with my then girlfriend and my friend whose parent’s house was now levitating about 5 feet off the ground.
For some reason we were all wearing different hats, for real, and as we passed around a PCP laced joint, a new level of truly bizarre things began to happen.
Just like with Alice my three friends were beginning to grow and I mean that my girlfriend went right through the roof like in Jack in the Beanstalk and all I could see was her “tree-trunk” bare leg!  Before I could comprehend what was happening they all began to shrink back down, thankfully, until they continued shrinking and disappeared into the shag rug carpet!

The next thing I knew another buddy of ours was at the door and said we’d better come see this.  We all got up as if nothing happened and proceeded down the hall. The front door foyer opened to a hallway that went to the room we were in and with the kitchen at the other end, a living room area was straight in from the front door and past the hallway. As we peered into the living room from the hallway we could see a small group of people doing different things. One guy was teaching his dog (a girl) tricks (she thought she was a dog) and others were spacing out when down from the kitchen hallway came a guy who thought he was a plane and started flying in circles around us.

I continued to the kitchen and when I leaned my arm against the wall, the wall sunk in like foam.  I could press into the wall and leave a hand-print and then it would recede back flat.
Although this new high was semi-incapacitating, after somewhat getting used to its rubbery distorting influence I found that I had become its master and could operate heavy machinery, like a car.  This was really fun as the steering wheel became huge like an old time cartoon steering wheel and the seats seemed to drag on the asphalt as I could barely see the road through my new extremely low-rider position.  Cruising took on a real-time “trucking” atmosphere as everything was rubbery and swooshing in a slow motion speed but relative to my actions, so all was cool.

During this time Steve Miller’s righteous “Jackson-Kent Blues” track from his #5 LP became our PCP theme song.  It is an epic classic and was so good that you almost forgot it was a protest song about the killing of four students by the United States National Guard during student demonstrations against the Vietnam war at Kent State University in Ohio.
After laying down the hard-rockin’ rant, Miller takes off on a classic hard rock space jam showing his Space Cowboy roots; complete with LSD-laced watery echoes and trailing, surging guitar wrangling and wah-wah wizardry throughout – it quickly became our fave background / foreground music for pretty cool pot shenanigans any day of the week.

The next morning of going into the fourth day of Pretty Cool Pot shenanigans, a good buddy of mine showed up with his converted-into-a-home step van with the invite to go on a road trip up north. I felt that this would be a good idea to give myself time to come down as I was feeling that the effects were lasting or staying with me longer than I expected.  My vision was kinda tunneled and I was still experiencing Rubber World sensations.

The Driver was my best friend at the time and we had rented places together, beach pads and alley joints over the years and had taken several road trips too, so riding for several hours and smokin’ several joints and listening to music and not talking was highly enjoyable.

We pulled into some town outside of Bakersfield to get supplies and gas and outside the mom ‘n’ pop store a dog had chased some poor guy up a tree and he was hanging from a tree limb while the dog was jumping up and biting at his pants – we just got back on the road and as we left we could see the poor guy still hanging from the limb.

I was still feeling the effects of the PCP as it was not waning or decreasing which seemed impossible, unless, … I had to face the fact that this time I may have gone too far.

As we pulled into Santa Cruz and got more supplies we also stopped at a totally cool but required for the times, hippie bookstore, with hippie posters and big sofa couches and booming over the speakers was Free’s “All Right Now”,  I love that song!
As I browsed the aisles I came across Velikovsky’s “Worlds in Collision” and sat in a big sofa and started reading.  Soon I noticed that this was some heavy reading – and at the same time that it must be some long version of  “All Right Now” that I had never heard before because it felt like it had been on for the last half hour. The PCP was not letting go. Everything was still distorted in little ways; objects felt over-sized and somewhat spongy, there was a constant ethereal echo – of everything, of every sound; kinda like the swooshing echoey sounds you hear on acid but more subtle, and I still had a little tunnel-vision. These weren’t bad side effects just the slight headache that came with it was.

We eventually made our purchases, I bought the Velikovsky book and we got back on the road.
We lit up another joint as we headed into Big Basin National Forest.  The sunlight became less and less as we got deeper and deeper into the forest.  Soon we were in this rich natural forest domain with trees that towered and canopied the forest bed like a cathedral.
The Driver pulled over and without saying a word to each other we nuded-up and ran through the lush blue-green forest with the pine needles serving as nature’s carpet under our bare feet – we were natives in a Primeval Forest.

Back then all the different groups we knew would nude-up when the time was right; such as for skinny-dipping, sunbathing, open air concerts, hot springs, lake shore dips and for sure, runs through the Forest Primeval!  It was like that back then; we had no inhibitions, really.
After a spiritual “getting back to the Garden” experience among nature we decided to head back for L.A. the next day.

On the way back I told the Driver about my condition and said that I’d resigned myself to this state. He laughed.  I got it, the irony of finally going too far, but he continued to chuckle.  “What?” I said. “Man, …” he said, “What do you think we been smokin’ all this time!”  I thought his pot tasted like PCP essence but attributed it to the lingering taste from the binge.  He had purchased some from Dr. Dean also!

On the one hand I was fairly angry; he’d been dosing me since we left L.A.!  But on the other hand I was relieved – the cure was to stop the continual smoking of the Pretty Cool Pot.  I did and lived to tell the tale.

The ‘60s and the ‘70s were adventurous times that saw Brave Psychedelic Explorers like us push the limits of reality just to see where it would take us. And we went far … out … and in.

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4th of July  – 1970


MIND-BLOWER #2  –  4th of July  – 1970

It was the 4th of July, 1970; the perfect holiday to take an LSD trip.

A few of our “Goon Squad” cruised down to Newport Beach to see the fireworks from a hill over-looking the harbor. We had fellow dope fiends that lived on the beach that graciously allowed us to use their pad as our home base for the day.  We brought plenty of fun drugs to share in return for their hospitality.
The fireworks display was to be shot from a boat in the harbor and the resulting reflections on the water made the experience doubly cool!  This is common today but forty years ago it was unique.
Back then there were fireworks stands set up all over the city as most people bought and set off their own fireworks in their backyards. So to go somewhere to watch a big display was fun and a good reason to dose ourselves – but back then we had many good reasons, like, “Hey, it’s Tuesday afternoon, let’s drop acid!”.

I remember this day extremely vividly for two reasons; one, the observance of the molecular structure of a lit candle and two, the fact that while watching the fireworks a large boat manifested and drove past us on the over-looking hill!

We dropped either Double Dome or White Lightning acid (both strong and long-lasting – umm-umm!) about mid-afternoon, as a day goofin’ off at the beach on acid would be a great build-up to the nighttime festivities.  As we walked we talked and that in and of itself could be very interesting and more so if the subject matter was heavy – which it usually became because LSD stimulates parts of you that you normally don’t acknowledge; the part where higher thoughts drown out the mundane concerns of daily life and allow you to see things clearly and as they really are.
At some point after some uninhibited displays of psychedelic weirdness and fun we decided to take the short walk back to the beach pad and smoke a couple joints and then head out to the Harbor hills.

Although it was a sunny day, the beach pad interior was coolly dark except for a few lit candles.
Now I’m not new to candles; I was a candle maker myself around that time (see: KPPC / Hippie Candle Factory) but the LSD was hitting me perfectly to see an amazing event.  I could see into the candle on the table in front of me, but not just inside, the whole molecular structure of a decent-sized 6” square candle.
Not only could I see through it but I could see each interior side as if it were a clear cube.  But it was far from clear as there was a whole lot of activity going on in there. The light from the candle wick cast back down throughout the candle giving the already yellowish candle a golden glimmer as symmetrical strands of what looked like live electricity crisscrossed back and forth much like the wire-framing of today but not seen on a screen or monitor but in real Superman see-thru 3D vision – in three dimensions – but this must have been the fourth dimension!?!

I was amazed!  I’ve tripped many times before and had seen many things but this was the first time I could actually sit and continue watching this event, for what seemed like as long as I wanted.
Soon other colors of live electricity began to inter-mingle and then I saw what was really going on; those strands weren’t strands, they were highways!  As I looked even closer it seemed as though my eyes became microscopes as I could view in as close as I wanted.  It was then that I saw it; a teeming metropolis with everything you’d see in any major city except that everything was still tinged in a golden glinty light – the light from these inhabitants’ sun – the lit candlewick above!

Unfortunately I was jolted-back to somewhat reality with the demands to hit the road, it was getting to be twilight so I was forced to leave that relatively little universe behind.

Once up on the hill the thrills of the psychedelics were hitting all cylinders and we were privileged to view the most far out wicked display of phantasmagorical sight and sound!
Without acid, fireworks can have the illusion of coming at you and pretty convincingly if you’re at the correct angle – with acid it’s no illusion as the fireworks are absorbed by you!
And here’s where weird synchronicity and normal strangeness intersect right when you’re peaking – and it seems to happen a lot –  like one time when we were all really psychedelicized on acid and watching TV with the volume down and listening to records when all of a sudden this large, what looked like a woman, in jean overalls and tight curly hair, looking a lot like a country Fatty Arbuckle comes on stage  and starts playing a guitar (which looked like a ukulele compared to her very large size) and just as she starts Captain Beefheart’s “I’m Gonna Booglarize You, Baby” synches exactly with what we’re watching this “woman” sing and play!
But it gets better, at first we knew what had happened, we were stoned, not stupid and this was highly entertaining, but as the song and her performance began to synch-up to perfection it began to get really weird as she now became the anti-Bowie the next Superstar as we were seeing this become real in front of us!
This track off “The Spotlight Kid” was four minutes and thirty-three seconds; a good long song and even longer on acid.
But then things turned ugly as the Captain’s Mac truck-grinding-gears voice coming out of this “woman” was becoming more than fairly demonic; it was a very creepy pre-cursor to next year’s debut of the scariest movie ever, “the Exorcist” which had one of the film’s most twisted scares with Mercedes McCambridge’s demonic voice coming out of sweet little innocent Linda Blair.
Another very cool LSD experience that “just happened”.
So strange as it seems, when you’re on hallucinogenic drugs it sometimes acts as a catalyst for experiences of “synchronicity of strangeness”.  Like attracts like – when you’re strange and weird you attract the strange and weird – makes sense to me.

Now back up on the hill:
We’re way up on this hill over-looking the harbor/bay and during a pause in the fireworks before the big finale we see the silhouette of something big coming our way from off in the distance to our right. Nothing to be concerned about until it got closer – it looked like a … boat, a fairly large boat, but it was on wheels and had headlights.
As it got closer we all just stood our ground, as it were, because at the time and under the circumstances this was highly strange, bizarre and out of place – all the things that make acid trips the exceptional experiences that they are.

It passed right in front of us and disappeared in the distance as quick as it came, the fireworks resumed with a terrific finale that blew our minds and went back to the beach pad for some late night tunes and an acid comedown smoke-out and always many laughs.

We never found out what that thing was or why it was up on that hill and I never saw another universe, but since then I have always known they exist.

LSD Lesson Learned: Everything is relative and nothing is solid.

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MIND-BLOWER #3  – Hallowe’en – October 31, 1970

Back in the Hunter S. Thompson days of Aspen Colorado our Southern California Beach Bum Hippie Groups of Rock ‘n’ Roll Dope Fiends would journey to Aspen to visit friends, ski, party and have a good time. Aspen was the hip place to be for movie stars, athletes, skiers, rock stars, gonzo journalists and us Hippies.

We eventually made so many trips that we began to race; for shortest time from L.A. to Aspen. Someone made it in 24 hours, then 20, then 18 hours.  I was involved in a real race between two cars coming back to L.A. only we took a wrong turn at Arizona and ended-up at the Grand Canyon – good times – we just stopped, looked out at the canyon, stared up at the stars, smoked a joint and got back on the road – waaay before “National Lampoon’s Vacation” Chevy Chase classic scene.

On a particular trip back to L.A. from Aspen, my road trip buddy (from Mind-Blower #1) and I met two girls who asked if they could hitch a ride back to L.A. They were cool and we were all itchin’ to get back to L.A. so we left right then at dusk, on Hallowe’en.
Once on the road we all four decided to celebrate the best we could and decided to take some psychedelics, probably mescaline or acid, to make the long night drive a little more fun.
After a while on the road at night when you’re out in the middle of nowhere with the blackness of eternity spread out in front of you it can cause you to lose your bearings and that’s without the hallucinogens. Toss in the spirit of Hallowe’en and you have a spooky brew; especially when you’re coming on real good to the psychedelics and reality starts to change as space and time seem to mesh and the only thing that is keeping you from spinning off into oblivion are the center-divider reflectors.  Those continuous bright flecks of metal repeating so fast that they almost form a line, really helps, otherwise you’d have no bearings at all except that stars equal up and everywhere else other than your “star track” is deep space. Scary fun!

Touching back down long enough to remember that since I was driving I controlled the airwaves, I turned the radio dial but it stuck on a rock station – and the beginning of the rest of the trip began, … again, … for the first time.

“Bloodrock 2” the newest album by the Texas hard rock band Bloodrock was released earlier this month and I had heard the infamous long album version of D.O.A. – and that’s the song that played on the radio, crystal clear from out in the void; the ominous goth tonnage of heavy metal Rock ‘n” Roll in the throes of dismemberment and death. The lyrics, “I remember we were flying low and hit something in the air” – that’s just what we were doing!  We were definitely flying, high actually, but low enough relatively speaking – so the song’s message had a creepy reality check.
Now this is probably the last song that you’d want to hear on Hallowe’en in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night in the middle of a psychedelic trip – but since that was the hand we were dealt, I let it ride – the whole grueling but extremely cool eight minutes of blood, guts and death and raucous Rock ‘n’ Roll and guitar solos – creepy cool shit.
Oddly enough no one freaked and we actually all had some fun getting a little scared and giddy from hearing it – again “synchronicity of strangeness” at work – like attracts like – when you’re strange and weird you attract the strange and weird.  Incidences like this hold truths to sacred rituals and the power they possess.

Several hours before daylight we finally pulled over, so as not to fall asleep at the wheel, and I had amazing psychedelic Hallowe’en sex with my Female Shotgun Rider once we cuddled-down in the front seat.

Soon we were all asleep and off into psychedelic-tinged Spooky Hallowe’en Dreamland.


Rock Out

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MIND-BLOWER #4 – Spring 1970

After historic times at the beach pad, an era had ended and two of us (the Driver from Mind-Blower #1) moved into a nice, but unfurnished stand-alone place isolated on top of our garage and several other units’ garages. This gave us tremendous freedom to play loud music, both from our stereo and from us – the Driver was a guitarist and I had a drum kit and friends would drop by and jam. We could cut loose and party every day and night with outrageous behavior and no one complained.
Our apartment was situated mid-way down the back-alley that served as the main exit of the most popular McDonald’s in the area. So our convenient location became a place to “drop by” and the apartment soon became known as the “Topside Room”.
We never furnished it other than our bedrooms – there were some Hippie pillows and a mattress in the front room along with my drum kit in the corner and an amp and speaker – the kitchen literally turned into a workshop where my buddy built his components for his future step van mobile home.  I don’t ever remember even using the kitchen to make a meal. We knew waitresses at several local restaurants that we frequented and they’d get us free meals – sometimes breakfast and dinner. We were livin’ like total Bohemians back then.

I was still working at the art department (saving-up money so I could quit and go have Hippie Adventures, which I did), when one night a good friend upon arrival back from Hawai’i treated us to some bowls of Primo Abdoolie #1 Hash.  I knew it was Primo Hash; as I could taste it in my brain, really. Then for a few nights straight a small circle of friends came by the Topside Room and we got pretty hallucinogenic from this Primo Hash.  I remember vividly, we were all sitting on the floor of my buddy’s bedroom and after several tokes I felt the whole room tip and slant to the point I thought we would all slide out through his doorway.
After a couple nights of this ritualistic mind-bending Hashish I became such a drugged numbed artist at work that it was only when the Exacto blade that had jammed into my leg through my jeans (when I got up from my drawing table to go use the darkroom) and the handle hit the doorway as I was walking through did I say, OW!  And looked down at the blood-soaked area around my stabbed leg and realized that just maybe I should stop, or at least slow down on the Hashish consumption, and I did for one night – what was I thinking? This was Primo Abdoolie #1 Hash! I haven’t had any since!  I was an unenlightened dope to skip a night.

A few days after the Abdoolie Primo #1 Hash rituals ceased and we were ready for some psychedelic fun, we decided to drop acid and go for a motorcycle ride – now that’s not strange for us, we’d done that before, but this time it was a very blustery and windy early evening and the sights of the trees swaying in the wind and the sounds of the howling winds created an atmosphere that made the evening already psychedelic.

I remember feeling the anticipation of fun to be had as I was on my bike giddily revving the engine at the people who came down our alley while my buddy did the same– it was so windy and blustery that we were just adding to the cacophony of the leaves flying and the wind howling.
Our metal horses were screaming, chomping at the bit, wanting us to let them loose and ride. Once we settled them down we took off and headed for the beach towns for some psychedelic sight-seeing and cruisin’ fun.
As we rode past our old beach pad at 338 Pershing in Playa Del Rey, we curved onto PCH and headed for the beach cities Hermosa and Redondo.  It was getting dark and the winds had died down so we could enjoy the ambient setting sun.

Although my buddy had been known to do the “Coffin” (a lethally dangerous move) on his bike  – tonight we both had a lethally dangerous experience – and while tripping on LSD.

Fortunately, we were slowing to enter the first beach town proper, slowing meaning about 50 mph, when my buddy pulled his bike up next to mine and we immediately got our handlebars entangled – for real!
My right throttle grip and his left grip and clutch were stuck – all I thought of was the next second we would dovetail together into end-over-end human and metal pretzels.
At the last second before we miraculously got “unhooked” I looked over at him and his face was this psychedelic grinning skull – as if he did it on purpose and with a look of, “Wasn’t that fun!?”
His Triumph 650 could catch my Honda 350, but I still got way out ahead of him and lost him in Hermosa Beach. (I later upgraded to a classic ’69 900cc Harley-Davidson Sportster! Cool!) He didn’t try and catch me  – he may have been as terrified of me!

We later ran into each other on the main boulevard, not literally, and cruised the rest of the psychedelic night by taking in the fresh, crisp, night sea air, the sparkling, vibrant yet soothing lights, the incredible unhelmeted joy that you get from becoming one with a powerful machine between your legs that responds to your every move and the total freedom of mind, spirit and body of living right then.

Now the question is; what was real, and what was a hallucination?

Everything was real, however, even though my friend had moments of evil-tinted mischievous deeds, manifesting into a skeletal demon was beyond his capabilities – but I could see his grin in there, so, that’s one of the fun things about hallucinogenics; the real and the unreal blend and you experience what you see and hear as real, but very rarely is it life-threatening – our ride with Near Death was.

Hey, as long as you live to tell the tale …

Here’s a truly amazing look at what we were listening to in the Spring of 1970 –
all of these albums were released within the previous seven months!!!

FLEETWOOD MAC – THEN PLAY ON – September 9, 1969
the BEATLES – ABBEY ROAD – September 26, 1969
FRANK ZAPPA – HOT RATS – October 10, 1969
PINK FLOYD – UMMAGUMMA – November 10, 1969
the ROLLING STONES – LET IT BLEED – December 5, 1969
– February 28, 1970


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LSD: the GOOD, the BAD and the UGLY


MIND-BLOWER #5   1969/1970
LSD: the GOOD, the BAD and the UGLY

the GOOD
A few of us met back at the beach pad after a rollicking Friday night; the acid was waning into the always introspective downside (or upside – depending on who you are) and we were passing around joints with guys I regarded as friends. But then I really looked at the term friendship and realized that the ideal is always used in conversation but in “reality” was not actually true.  Out of five or six guys there were two that I felt were really friends and beyond that room there were none – and I knew a lot of people back then and a lot of different groups.  That could be a cold reality for some or an honest reality check for others. Here’s a good acid test; a friend is someone who will help you move – a real friend is someone who will help you move a body.

A bowl of hashish kind of jump-started the acid trip back on course as I found myself talkin’ philosophical with my writing friend from our future experimental joint venture 1970s Psychedelic Short Story. We were in the back room with only one set of windows on the ocean side, drapes drawn, and the bathroom door was shut (I checked all of this at the time, as you’ll soon know why) so the room was not totally dark but movie-style dark where you can kind of see from an ambient dim light down the hallway.

Anyway we were deep into heavy Theosophy and a dash of politics when straight ahead in front of us on the dark blank wall a small dot of white light appeared – the dot stayed stationary then separated into two more dots that made a triangle. We both stopped talking as we watched the dots expand concentrically-bigger, and as they did they became colorful – like the colors in an opal.
My immediate first thought was that it was a reflection of a car coming up the street but the drapes were drawn and we were above another house and car lights never reflected this high up off the street before.
What eliminated the “any source of light from outside” was the geometric morphing; as this was happening on the wall as if it was its own light source.
We both just watched in awe as this “light show” came and went. And there we were, staring at a blank dark wall. That was far out!

So as strange as it seems, when you’re on hallucinogenic drugs it sometimes acts as a catalyst for experiences of “synchronicity of strangeness”.  Like attracts like – when you’re strange and weird you attract the strange and weird.  The only explanation I could ever offer was that our state of psychedelic mind and our conversation must have touched on something ethereal and somehow brought about a psychic or supernatural event. This was an early experience of many “strange attracts strange” moments to come while psychedelicized and in this case I was thankful that I had a witness because many times with no outside validation you just have to either accept it as reality or the reality of where your head was at – or toss it off as a hallucination – this was not a hallucination, this was a connection, but to or with what I will probably never know.
But even without LSD, those are decisions we make daily, whether to accept the reality we are given or the reality we choose or the reality we are forced to experience.
Remember, reality is based on agreement.

the BAD
A group of us dropped acid and headed out to a party in Hermosa Beach and I got sidetracked and lost the group and therefore the party house as I was communicating with a local cat, not a hipster, a cat, and when I looked up everyone was gone so I decided to just cruise the neighborhood and see where the night would take me.
As I headed toward Pacific Coast Highway, where I could thumb a ride back to my home base at the time,the black cat I had spoken with earlier kept pace with me up near the houses and bushes -we chatted as we walked. When I was nearing the Highway I looked back and the black cat was gone.
I hitched a ride with a cool enough guy until about half-way into the ride while motoring east on Manchester Boulevard he starts talking about being on the Spahn (Movie) Ranch, just outside L.A., with Charlie Manson; this was right when it was all happening, right after the Tate-La Bianca murders.  And then he looks at me and says, “You’re fryin’ aren’t you?”  Now I’m pretty proud of my Psychedelic Poker Face but this guy saw right through it. I started to get a little freaked, but kept it together.  He said he had just left in time, and I’m thinking, in time for what? Am I riding with a Manson Family member just waiting to go off?
Of course, this might classify as a “bad” trip, but not in the classic sense of losin’ it, but instead just a somewhat scary supreme “bum-my-trip” episode – but because I had my head on securely and after some well-placed conversation I was let off at my, er, um, destination and as soon as he was out of sight I took off and back-tracked home. It was a creepy, but cool walk home as I survived yet another adventurous psychedelic weekend.

and the UGLY
Back in the day us Hippies loved to romp in nature and the quest for the best creek, waterfall or hot springs was always on and being nude to fully appreciate the experience was a totally acceptable form of behavior – we were uninhibited.
During a winter visit to Aspen, Colorado me and my two good friends were allowed by the knowledge of a local friend to venture to this cool place off in the woods where someone built a small shack-structure over a pool of natural hot springs. We had dropped acid earlier in the day so this would be a very mellow way to ease the comedown.
It was lightly snowing and after getting near melted in the pool the four of us would do the traditional Indian-style nude run from the hot spring and lay down into the shallow ice water creek and/or lay in the snow until the pores on your skin were contracting with pins and needles across your whole body and then head back into the steaming hot mineral water and get the reverse sensation – what a gas!
We were shootin’ the shit, laughing and sharing a joint when we heard footsteps outside.  Now this is near-dark, snowing and in a very remote, isolated and supposedly unknown-to-only-few-locals environment, when the door to the shack quickly opens and two Deliverance guys with rifles are standing there.
Well, there we were, totally vulnerable long-haired nude Hippies faced with a very scary situation  –  was this really happening to us?
They told us to get out! We could only grab our clothes and run. My one buddy said that he left his ring and was going back for it but just then I heard one of the Rednecks say something about “.. goin’ up one side of ‘em and down the other!”  I didn’t bother to mentally define the intention, it sounded pretty sick to me so I persuaded him to forget the ring, climb the trail and put his clothes on in the car.
I think for all four of us the reality shock value overcame any psychedelic freak out as this scene was the freak out.
But then again, it’s all about living to tell the tale.

One may ask at his point, “Why would a whole generation willingly take mind-expanding drugs that had the potential of a “bad” trip?”  The answer is simple; because the good totally outweighed the bad!
Plus, after a while you became the master of the mind-blower as long as you could “maintain” – which I laugh about now remembering how many times I had to say that to others – and they to me. “Maintain, Man, maintain.”

Fun times and beyond.

We Wuz Krazy Psychedelic Kidz!

00individual wants to send you all off in a total state of bliss:


Controversial Non-Psychedelic Side Note:
After seeing the Good the Bad and the Ugly countless times, as it is easily one of my Top Ten All Time Favorite Films, I totally disagree with the traditional belief of Good = Blondie, Bad = Angel Eyes and Ugly = Tuco – this is just not correct.
Tuco may be “ugly” but he is really only “bad”, as we know from his list of crimes which mainly deal with larceny, theft, etc.  Angel Eyes however, is truly “ugly” and beyond “bad” as we are shown by his daily torture and senseless killings.  This is my contrary-to-popular-belief opinion and is why I deliberately associated the eye-shots with the titles in the headliner art above. -00individual

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MIND-BLOWER #6 – Winter 1971

With our three dogs, my girlfriend and I moved from L.A. to Mammoth Lakes, California at the end of summer 1971 before the winter that would eventually become the most snowfall Mammoth would experience in a decade.  The snow-plowed streets would literally become like the maze in “the Shining”.  Our VW Bug was buried.

We had been invited by friends who lived there and told us that we could basically live free as the unemployment and food stamp allocations for that county would be lessened if not used so the local government literally wanted people to move to their county to flip the tab for life in Mammoth.

Pink Floyd’s just-released “Meddle” album was on constantly and the atmosphere for immersing in the Occult in Mammoth at that time was good; environmentally, spiritually and historically.  The snowy mountainous environment emanated an enriching old-world feel even though I wasn’t in Europe, …or was I?
Mr. Frost, (his real name) our  neighbor, peer and kindred spirit, first turned me on to Geophysical Mind Travel as we were appreciating the distant snow-covered mountainous landscapes and village rooftops out through his second-story window while sharing a joint and I said how cool it would be to be in Switzerland, and Mr. Frost said, “We are.”
And he was right; I was in a mountain village in Switzerland and my whole being took on the foreign feeling of actually being there.  There was no difference between the ambient environment and visuals in Mammoth than Switzerland at that moment other than I chose for it to be Switzerland.
I have done this repeatedly in my life since and as an example; on a particularly sunny day I am in my studio in a little Italian town – my outdoor visual complies.
Outside on a foggy moonlit night, the mountains around me became a massively thick great forest and I was in an aerie.  This is where imagining and your present reality merge; you are there for real physically and the feeling is foreign, as would be expected in any foreign place, but it’s certainly an enjoyable sensation.
Driving up the coast many times I have imagined I’m on the South of France or a strange planet that is much like Earth, or when in industrial areas I’m in a future environment that could have all sorts of mystery and intrigue just beyond locked gates.  This is not fantasizing, this is sensory actualization made real by your imagination’s abilities.
Mr. Frost’s technique is a wonderful precursor to other more advanced forms of mind-honing. This, and other lessons learned while high on psychedelics, have made them accessible anytime, anywhere – an altered state of consciousness that is in fact “real” when experienced.
Groovy and Far Out!
A man who changed my life as sure as psychedelics did, for the better, Terrence McKenna  (ethnobotanist, philosopher, psychonaut, researcher, teacher, lecturer, and writer on many subjects, such as human consciousness, language, psychedelic substances, the evolution of civilizations, the origin and end of the universe, alchemy, and extraterrestrial beings) stated that man’s ultimate evolution was to exist in his imagination.
Sounds feasible: with the introduction of the internet everyone world-wide has elevated their imagination with the capacity to relate to the virtual existence of “real” places in cyberspace – the first step to living in total imagination.

While snow covered the ground, but sometime prior to the first major snowfall, I made a quick trip back down to L.A. to visit a noted Metaphysical Shop on Melrose Boulevard. There were two ingredients that I needed to complete the recipe for Witches’ Salve that I was extremely  fortunate to acquire.  This was the reputed salve that Witches, bless their souls, would rub on their skin to give their bodies the sensation of flying.  Psychedelics for the skin!  I wanted some!  The Shop normally stocked the two herbs that I needed, but were out of both.  Sadly, I was told that those specific two herbs, that have been allowed entry into this country forever, were currently being held at the Long Beach docks pending a current FDA ban on their sale.  They were belladonna and wormwood.
I was very disappointed.

During this era I was acquiring serious Occult knowledge and it wasn’t until two years later that I found myself on the day after Christmas standing in a line in drizzly rain with two Nuns behind me at a Westwood Village theater for the first showing of “the Exorcist” – my girlfriend read the book and told me it was a documentary.
I came out of the theater with the stone realization that my attempts at trying to connect with “others” had the potential to get extremely messy, so understanding the possible implications of my past experiments I strode the neutral path for many years after.

Back in Mammoth, with no Skin Psychedelics, I was greeted by our friend who said that he had something better and told us to prepare for a secret midnight ritual – it was “Nature’s Sensory-Deprivation Tank”, known to only a very few.  [And there we have the simple original ancient definition of “Occult”; “hidden (secret) knowledge that must be studied by initiates to be understood.”]  We were quick studies and welcomed initiates for this Occult journey, so on that crisp snowy night we all drove south out of Mammoth, off the main highway, past the old airstrip and ended up near a small hot springs pond that was part of a small creek with a flat foot-bridge across it.
The location of the hot springs wasn’t a huge secret; but the technique to experience Nature’s Sensory-Deprivation Tank was.  First, we’d all nude-up and go from the freezing, snowy banks into the hot, hot creek and from there we would literally navigate each other through mind-altering excursions.

The “secret technique” consisted of one person who would be “Tripped” by the other three or four people who would gently support and guide your floating body around the creek. The feeling was of being weightless floating in space “2001: A Space Odyssey” Starchild-style with the blackness of space and millions of stars circulating as you are guided about the creek.
It was essential that your ears were just below the surface of the water as the deep rumbling sound and sensation emanating from the underwater hot mineral source-spout near the bridge provided a universe-careening aural environment that ebbed and flowed as you moved toward and away from the rumbling vibrations.  This cosmic rumble complemented the weightless physical feeling which created the sensation of slowly ripping through space and time!
A true natural psychedelic experience! Mind-Blowing! Far Out!
If it was snowing, the experience intensified as the falling flakes appeared as if stars soaring past you on all sides as you traveled spirit-like through deep space.
(See illustration above.)

After the usual 45 minute trip per person in Nature’s Sensory Deprivation Tank, you were so “altered” that you enjoyed the meditative Tripping of the next person.
Sometimes we’d be “out there” literally and literally, until near sun-up, but like vampires  we needed to get back before daylight; as it would/could take away from the ambiance of the experience.
On the drive back we’d be zonked, but spiritually uplifted as the experience was highly concentrated due to the super natural element and therefore spiritual transcendence was certainly obtainable if one had this intent and power of thought in mind.

These Super Natural Trip experiences were a  gift from nature and did not need any psychedelics to achieve truly exceptional psychedelic effects, … however, us Hippies were known to push limits and there were times when the cosmic spike of psychedelics could take you just about anywhere then and would truly be a Supernatural Super Natural experience.
Here’s the end scene (spoiler) from the movie “Altered States” to show you what can happen when you take psychedelics in a sensory deprivation tank – you could “TRANSCEND“.

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MIND-BLOWER #7   1969

One day I felt adventurous and decided to drop some LSD and foot-cruise the neighborhood where I grew up to experience it while in an altered state.
As I walked, normal associations began to disintegrate into something else, something strangely seductive, something that you can feel emanating from within your body, then suddenly the world around you is different, like you’ve never really seen it before.

The grass beneath your boots are trying to communicate as the voices of millions of tiny blades of grass are whirling in the air around you. Then suddenly a jet plane goes by, or what you think you hear is a plane, but it’s not, it’s the tunneling reverberations of cosmic sounds coming from inside your head which begin to connect to every living thing around you.  Celestial voices that were always there are now audible; plants, trees and vegetation can be heard singing in swooshes of sound tumbling and rolling over in the ethers, but always at a level of the environment, never overbearing, but far away and right at your ear at the same time.

One look at the sky and you’re astounded at how utterly blue it is, it’s surrealistic blue, like it was lit-up from behind, and you begin to notice and feel the curvature of the earth as the sky bends in the horizon as if solid. While contemplating this strangeness your legs and feet become rubbery; at first it seems as though your feet are way too big and way too far out in front of your body and for a moment you fear you will fall backward, but then realize that you’re perfectly balanced – you’re just “truckin” – taking big fat groovy somewhat slow-motion strides. As you truck down the street the trees, limbs and leaves look as though they are underwater as they undulate back and forth; some limbs seem to reach out to you as you hear sounds of Jimi Hendrix’ echoing guitar riffs emanating from the air itself.
The saturated colors of the trees, houses, parked cars and even the sidewalk all seem to glitter and sparkle and as you look down the street it seems to go on forever!

Everything’s cool, but time has sped up or it seems so as you realize day has slipped into twilight and everything is now mysterious.
As it gets darker, a car’s headlights coming from behind you illuminate a couple of shiny trash cans sitting by the curb up ahead. As the light moves across them they become animated and you realize that those aren’t trash cans, those are robots!  But before you can investigate further you see a cop car curiously parked with its lights off down the street  – if you turn around or alter your direction that may draw attention, so you continue on. As you get closer you hope that you appear to be walking normally as you sure don’t feel like you are – then just as you’re the closest you’ll have to be to pass him – you hear his car door click open and the cop gets out of the car, looks over at you and says “Hey, you fryin?” (What? Did he say that? Or are you hallucinating?) You slow your pace and act as if you didn’t understand him and you say, “What?” As he looks at you his face becomes darkly evil and terror strikes you as he says, “I didn’t say anything” as he shuts the patrol car door, turns, and hurries up the street. You avoided, but almost brought on a dangerous situation.

Being in a psychedelic state does initially come with some pangs of paranoia which can escalate quickly into a hallucinogenic bad trip if control is not mastered and the way to do that is keep one part of your conscious mind secure with these words inside: “Maintain, it’s only the drug!” And seriously, that simple truth is usually all that’s needed to jump back into the fun!
Such as when you approach the bluff on the hill at the top of your street that looks out over the expanse of the city; thousands of sparkling diamonds on rich black velvet – wait, that’s not psychedelic, that’s a normal everyday night-time city image – ahh, yes, but you can reach out and pluck anyone of those gems and examine its insane molecular structure up close.
And as you sit down on the bluff’s soft spongy grass you notice a small space bug on some chain link fencing, it’s all iridescent and very spacey, like a miniature spaceship actually, but then you realize its just a discarded silver candy bar wrapper – or is it?  It seems to know you’re looking at it, so you sit and watch it breathe, so you know it’s alive, yet you were watching the walls of the corner store breathe a while back also.
As you get up and say goodbye to the space bug you become aware of your physicality, of your flesh and muscles and start feeling exceptionally aroused and primal, like Tarzan in the wild – so you run like the wind toward your girlfriend’s house for you know that soon you and her will be having super psychedelic romantic animal sex before the trip is over.
Groovy! Far Out!  Another Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood!

For some psychedelic fun, click on the header image and scroll up and down and back and forth and explore the “neighborhood”.
There are surfing dolphins, haunted houses that are crash pads for the surfing dead, amphibious space cars (one’s defending the city from a nasty cloud monster), monorail Time Trains that disappear into time tunnels that create rainbows, a tiki lagoon with a sound-speaker hut, a mermaid statue archway that leads into a cloud-covered city, flying saucers, a huge wildcat under the monorail girders, a mechanized mountain, a Time Train emerging from a Bermuda Triangle-type portal, many buildings and domes with spacey architecture and even a smiling buck-toothed moon!


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MIND-BLOWER #8 -1969

Back in the ’60s, psychedelic trips could come in many different ways – and not all were based on taking psychedelic drugs to alter your perception and environment – some were the environment.

The following is a true psychedelic trip that many have only dreamed of, and quite possibly none, other than myself and my small band of adventurers, would ever actually experience.

Surely, everyone (other than people in the movie industry) who ever went to Disneyland, Disney World or any of the Universal Tours at some time secretly imagined what it would be like to be able to wander and explore those parks, back-lots and movie sets freely, after hours and with no supervision.
Just to imagine what it would be like to experience the dream-like state where walking down the main street of a real western town would magically turn into a New York-style city street and around that corner a Tarzan jungle and around that corner a fortress and around that corner a lake, and in that lake; a pirate ship  – would be a psychedelic trip for real!

At the intersection of Overland Avenue and Jefferson Boulevard in Culver City, California was Lot 3, a 65-acre parcel where elaborate exterior sets were built and maintained. These included the “Jungle Island” for the Tarzan series that was at the southern end of a 63,000,000 gallon man-made lake that was used in “Show Boat” and “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” and at the north end of the lake, across a stone bridge were a cluster of Colonial-style commercial buildings used in “Gone with the Wind”.
There were three western street façades; a prosperous town called “ Western Street,” a deserted and faded “Ghost Town” and a frontier town called “Billy the Kid Street”. To the north of that set was a giant poured concrete processing tank with a massive painted sky background used for filming large scale miniature ships first used for “Mutiny on the Bounty” and as various backdrops for many, many other films. All of these were permanent standing sets that were used over and over again, altered, repainted and shot from multiple angles to represent nearly any place on earth.

But by 1970 the once powerful, creative and profitable Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer studios were in decline due to many economic issues of the times and the glorious days of Back-Lot 3 were limited to the point of becoming an unused “ghost land”. The inevitable was approaching and M.G.M. was forced to hold an eighteen day auction of everything from costumes and props to eventually the back-lot land itself.

Fortunately, just prior to all of that, while in a mind-altered state of marijuana we got the bright idea to try and explore M.G.M’s back-lot 3 after dark.

Now you have to understand that back then things were still “loose”, a world apart from the lock-down everything-you-do-is-a-terrorist-threat climate of today; you could do just about anything and it was not a big deal, the world was still innocent; so “sneaking in” to a major studio’s lot was considered an adventure, not a criminal act.
Likewise there were no alarms, electrical fences, motion detectors, closed-circuit cameras or anything like that; as a matter of fact the only security, as we soon found out, was just one old man who would drive around the entire lot and that would take him an hour or so to complete his rounds.

It was a nearly-full-moon night when we first arrived and located easy access through a separation of chain-link fence at the back corner of the Lot 3. Once inside and through some outlying foliage we came upon one of the western town main streets and immediately the real-life psychedelic trip began.

Wisely realizing that taking LSD or any over-the-top psychotropics would be a bit much to deal with in this unknown environment, we still made sure that we smoked some good weed before embarking on this adventure as we figured that would be “psychedelic” enough.
At first we were walking stealthily about the street watching out for any security guards or six-shootin’ outlaws that might ambush us. There were about five of us and one of our band was on the gym team at school; he walked through the saloon doors and disappeared inside as they swung back and forth behind him, suddenly he came through the saloon doors holding his chest and did a flip over the hitchin’ rail into the street as if he was shot from inside the saloon!
That move gave the rest of us the courage to take the fantasy, which was now a reality, to another level and soon we were just a bunch of kids playing in a teenage dream of role-playing shoot-’em-up ecstasy.

After much western fun and imaginary shoot-outs we walked to the end of main street and came upon a Victorian-era neighborhood and as we walked, the moonlight cast an eerie Gothic spell over us; the marijuana high greatly contributed to the psychedelic dreamworld and it was easy to slip into character of being in that time and place, it became real spooky, but before we knew it the streets ended and we came upon a fortress and we were back in the western mode of cowboys and Indians.
Around the backside of the fort was the beginning of the Tarzan Jungle but finding no vines to swing from we continued on and crossed over a stone bridge.  This led us to the huge back drop which was still filled with fake snow and ice chunks that were recently used in the classic, highly-revealing political movie “Ice Station Zebra”.

Ice Staion3

However, now there were several full sized fighter jets and a half-track tank parked on the snowy set. We were about to climb in the cock-pits when just then we saw the headlights from a security car coming from off in the distance, so we took off back the way we came in and decided to play it safe and not push our luck and come back the next night to further explore.

On the second night we headed straight for the jets and tank, I remember climbing up into the cock-pit and seeing all of the gauges and controls and looking out through the windows as if ready to take off from the snowy landscape. Unfortunately, someone in the half-track tank tried to start it up and it actually made some noise, enough that it must have certainly alerted the security guard. I climbed out of the jet and quickly headed with another one of our group up the European street that had buildings that curved around the tip of the lake where the pirate ship was docked.
We crossed the plank onto the ship and were exploring the deck when we saw the security car headlights a distance away.  We immediately climbed the rope ladder to one of the crow’s nests on the ship just in time to see the security guard’s car come into view below.
This was really exciting; up until now we were only interacting with ourselves, now there was a real adversary to our adventure!
We huddled down and I can clearly remember seeing the security car below slowly making its way up around the same street we were just on. We were pretty high up and the excitement of eluding “the enemy”  was very cool indeed. This whole trip was escalating into a real-life quasi-psychedelic blend of fantasy, reality and adventure!
(You can see the bow of the ship in the photo below and the actual ship and crow’s nests at the bottom middle to the right in the main header photo above.)

 Pirateship dock photo

After the security guard passed on by we climbed back down the pirate ship’s rope ladder and tried to explore the Riverboat but there was no boarding plank and the boat was too far from the dock’s edge to jump so we just messed around a while longer in our dream-like fantasy land before leaving.

Unfortunately, on our third night in a row of mind-bending surreal adventures our previous night’s fun must have alerted the “real” authorities because now some younger security guards were on the prowl.
I/we made the mistake of including a couple of “newbies” who wanted to join in the fun. We were enjoying ourselves as usual but even though I warned one of the newbies about his non-stealth clothing of off-white pants and a bright blue and green t-shirt, we were all feeling confident and over zealous and allowed him to come along anyway. That was our undoing.
While really having a great time and role-playing like no LARPers will ever be able to do; we obviously allowed ourselves to be seen by the “new” security guards and the chase was on!
We all scattered and a couple of us dove under a trailer and scooted to the back, I looked next to me and it was the “colorful” newbie – great.
The security car pulled up and two younger guards got out and shined their flashlights around the area.  Just when I thought that we had alluded them, one of them shined their light under the trailer and the beams of light bouncing off of the newbie’s clothes lit the whole underside of the trailer – along with me.  Sheesh, busted.

There was a certain ethic back then that when you got caught you took it like a man. But then, when caught for things of this nature authorities didn’t pull the knee-jerk reaction and call the cops, they called our parents – and we complied.  But that didn’t mean that when we arrived home that we couldn’t pull the old, “What?” “I was over at so and so’s and we went to a movie, party, whatever, and someone just gave them my name and phone number!” “I’m innocent!” And because there was no way to disprove my alibi, I’d stick with my story. It would just cause some negative reactions and ill will for a few days and then that would be it – basically, no harm, no foul – we didn’t vandalize or destroy property, we were just having some fun! I just had to stick to my “alibi”.
Today it would be considered a “terrorist act of breaking and entering” and a gun would be held on you until the cops came and arrested you. Like the world of Lot 3, the world of the ’60s was like no other – ultimately the coolest!

Soon after, the fabulous back-lots were finally sold off for real estate development. Now tract houses, apartments and West L.A. College would replace those once wondrous lands of make believe.
What had been the greatest of all movie studios was gone and with the ever-changing fluctuation in global finances and ever-increasing sources of entertainment and never ending advances in computer technology where CGI replaced hand-built movie sets – the likelihood of such a magical empire ever being built again is highly improbable.

But for three nights of surreal fantasy and mind-blowing adventure,
my friends and I were able to experience a truly once in a lifetime event
of magical fun, excitement and a dream come true!

A True Psychedelic Mind-Blower Trip if there ever was one!

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Whenever the people I ran with got together we always had a good time, we were a fun bunch of Psychedelic Kidz.
But sometimes things could escalate into fun for some and not so much fun for others; the bong scene from the Mike Judge movie “Extract” reminded me of just that. It was night time at a girlfriend’s house and we were all getting way too stoned on a combo of psychedelics and a dusted joint of PCP (the “good” stuff) and one of the Mikes, the dealer from my previous Hippie Road Trip posts (2), kept “turning into a monster” and mentally attacking his good friend who was sitting next to him on the floor.
Now Mike was the master of sophistication and manipulation and had a full beard and long frizzy hair and with widened wild eyes he played his part well, but his poor buddy was obviously seeing it in a more sur-real vein than intended. At first he sensed the joke but under the spell of the drugs he succumbed more to the possible reality that Mike was really turning into a monster and asked him to return to his human form. Mike relented only long enough to come back and do it again, only more so.
The rest of us were amused to the point of subdued laughter, as he wasn’t doing it to us. But I could tell in my own state of weirdness that Mike’s monster could be very intimidating.
Soon Mike had his buddy pleading to stop with plaintiff reasons of, “… but I’m your partner!”, but that had no effect on the merciless Mike. Eventually his buddy and our friend had to get up to escape, whereby Mike apologized and told him he wouldn’t become a monster anymore, so he reluctantly sat back down.
We had all reached that place on the fringes of reality where it could only take a little nudge to enter a swinging saloon door into a world of our friend’s viewpoint and thus protected ourselves with nervous laughter as we didn’t want the monster to come after us – even though we had been enjoying the “seriously innocent” show.
After the the joint made the rounds again, Mike slowly turned his head toward his buddy, eyes wild and in a scary, creepy menacing way turned into a monster again – and that was it – our friend got up and left.
While I had empathy for our psychically-attacked friend, I was filled with cosmic schadenfreude and couldn’t stop laughing – all the while knowing that a monster was in our midst.


My good buddy and I scored a quantity of Green Mescaline, bought some horsecaps and on one sunny Saturday commenced to some serious “‘cappin’” at my apartment which was isolated above alley garages.
Since we were not dealers per se, we had no intent to “cut” the mescaline which was commonly done with either lactose, flour or rat poison (Strychnine) – I’m sure I had a few psychedelic hits in the past that were cut with poison where my stomach severely knotted and that’s a sure sign of a low dose of Strychnine.
Having sampled the mescaline previously we knew this strain to be of good quality which is why we purchased a decent quantity. Anyway, we would scoop the green powder into each half capsule and push them together until the trapped air inside made a little high-pitched burp noise and then we would set the ready-to-take mescaline horsecap aside.
With each cap we’d invariably get some green “dust” on our fingers in the process and would then lick our fingers to make them tactile enough to continue. After about a dozen or so caps apiece we were starting to get a little giddy and seemed to be having quite a lot of fun with our “job”.
At first it didn’t dawn on us that we were slowly dosing ourselves with the mescaline dust and after a while we decided to take a break and smoke a joint. By then I was starting to see some faint trails coming off my fingers. Once we resumed cappin’ and our conversations became more spacey I realized that we were actually probably taking in more “dust” than we thought as we were comin’ on pretty strong – it was good mescaline, and good mescaline was unlike LSD which could have a pretty strong uptake during the come-on process whereas with mescaline the build was steady and strong but pretty smooth – at least that was my experience and especially with this strain – so instead of “whistlin’ while we worked” we were “trippin’ while we worked”.
By the time we finished we decided to each down a cap to make it official and then had the entrepreneurial bright idea to proceed to use ourselves as perfect marketing examples of what our product was capable of. So with our feet barely touching the ground and powered by the psychedelic “Green” strangeness, we drifted out the door, levitated down the stairs and floated out to my buddy’s car all the while feeling as though we just emerged into a bright and colorful cosmic version of the world we previously knew. Once in the car, which was now a “space”mobile, we hovered off to hit up our freaky friends for some psychedelic transactions.
Over time we sold our stock, made a small financial profit and had a nice free stash of quality green mescaline to last for a few concerts, parties, get-togethers and just for cosmic fun any day. Far Out!


One of my close “Mike” friends (not Monster Mike) was friends with a big time dealer, D.E., who literally got run out of the hip resort, Park City, Utah for dealing “too much”. The authorities didn’t want to arrest him as that would make him a martyr to all the rich folks and celebrities who lived and vacationed there and who were his customers. He’d supply Stevie Winwood when he was in L.A. and was the kind of guy who paid cash for a brand new four-wheel drive truck right off the showroom floor.
Anyway, after closing-up the Crane’s Record Store in Palos Verdes that I managed, I drove over to D.E.’s house where I met Mike. I was greeted with a heaping bowl of hashish and sat down on the couch and lit a hit.
Up on the bar D.E. was working a coping saw on what looked like a huge cheese wheel, but it was a nice rich deep tan color, the same color as the hash I was smoking. This wheel was at least three inches thick in height and about six inches in diameter; when I realized that it was the hash, my jaw just dropped, I had never even seen or heard of such a thing. As the thin blade was cutting through the hash, fine crumbles gathered at the base and Mike got up and scooped them into the bowl so we could fire up some more. As I hit the pipe D.E. informed me that he had two more “wheels” bagged and hanging from limbs way up high in a tree in his backyard; I didn’t ask why, must’ve been to keep them out of the house, out of view and out of the scent of drug-sniffing dogs.
As I took another hit Mike gave me a short tubular brown “barrel” pill that was supposed to be THC. I took it as I grooved to the sounds of a current cool jazz album coming from D.E.’s state-of-the-art sound system that gloriously filled the room. A few minutes later I attempted to get up off the couch to hit the head when it felt like I had lead weights in my arms, ass and legs – I couldn’t get up – I literally could not move my muscles.
Mike just laughed as he realized that it wasn’t a barrel of THC that he had given me but an elephant tranquilizer! He wasn’t falsely dosin’ me – he had some of both and they looked similar – oh well, honest mistake, I wasn’t mad at all, I mean it actually was very relaxing – duh, it was an elephant tranquilizer! I had taken Tetrahydrocannabinol (the active ingredient in marijuana) before and this was not THC!
So I just sat back, as I had no other choice, and let the psychedelic wave of righteous hash swirl me around the room in an out of body experience with the sounds of cool jazz absorbing and passing through my tranquil body and mind as I explored the heavens.
I enjoyed this altered-state until awhile later when I was able to become ambulatory. Groovy!

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MIND-BLOWER #10 – Fall 1970

I was on a road trip from L.A. to Oregon with three friends named Mike; our destination was to visit with Dealer (Monster) Mike’s parents who had moved up there recently.
On the way we stopped off south of San Francisco and north of Monterey to visit surfer friends at the beach in Santa Cruz  (future “Lost Boys” site) and grooved there for a couple days.

On our first day there while enjoying a good time and tokin’ we found out that Zappa and the Mothers were playing at Pepperland, a small venue nearby in San Rafael and fortunately we were able to snag some tickets.
Pepperland was like a big over-sized club and all of us were about twenty feet from the stage for the show. Mark Volman and Howard Kaylan of the Turtles (and previously “the Crossfires” from my hometown and high school of Westchester) were now in the Mothers so it was fun to see them and enjoy a nice intimate night of Rock ‘n’ Roll Madness! It was a cool gift, a totally unexpected concert experience!

After the concert, back at the surf pad, we smoked some of Monster Mike’s opium between about six or seven people.  One by one everyone passed into Dreamland – until it got down to me and a Mike – and that’s all I remember – until the dreams came.

Once back on the road, we entered Big Basin Redwood State Park and continued our “Hobo Hotel” accommodations with some more friends we knew in the town of Ben Lomond.
After fun greets of shared music and fine weed, our Brothers suggested we go hiking up a secret deep-forest ravine where we could find old relics like hand-made nails from an old logging mill area and if we ventured further up the ravine we could enter a fantastic “Hobbitland” with massive overgrown vegetation and trees – we would know it once we reached the “hole in the ceiling”.

Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit were huge in the early ‘70s – even with no blockbuster movies to promote them. Instead we read the books, and along with a copy of “The Anarchist’s Cookbook”, and maybe a copy of “Whole Earth Catalog”, everyone owned Tolkien’s books and everyone’s pets were named after characters in the books – everyone’s.

(Enjoy Bo Hansson’s “Lord of the Rings” from September 1972 – a sublime environmental soundtrack to accompany this post.)

This expedition sounded like some serious mysterious fun so we drove to where we were instructed, parked off road and headed up the forest ravine.

By this time in my Psychedelic Life I had conquered and enjoyed most forms of psychedelics and even looked forward to the “look in the mirror” that sometimes came with more intense drugs or doses – same with the three Mike’s – we all were Psychedelic Vets of Surreal Adventures.
So, even though we all abide to the Hippie road trip creed; “bring supplies”, it’s a cool benefit to have a Dealer along as there would always be plenty of fun stash to consume.
And for this journey to Hobbitland we were powered by incremental doses of psilocybin – a perfect complement to our nature trip.

I was nineteen, almost twenty and probably in my best-ever physical state, so the trek was not an effort, but as we got higher up the ravine – we got higher.  Even though we had energy to spare, we would take “psychic breaks” and enjoy another small dose of what we had termed, “Psilocybin Psychic Power”.

At some point on the trip, even though I knew the whole environment around me was alive, I suddenly became aware of its intelligence and it was as if I was surrounded by a sentient web of vegetation and felt not as the alien but as a symbiotic member of their world. I felt accepted. Was this due to a hyper-sensitivity in the plant world to recognize the “mushroom” in my system? Was I registering enough symbiotic plant life to receive the “love” of the entire plant world that surrounded me?
I decided to enjoy the moment – as it was as real as anything else I’ve ever experienced.

My “distraction” caused me to lag way behind the three Mikes., I had to scurry to catch up.
The further we went up the ravine the more lush and seemingly larger the vegetation became – until we could sit on the huge moss-covered tree trunk roots like they were big velvet sofas, wait, they were big velvet sofas!
Then as I looked around, everything became vibrant, detailed and the greens of the forest were so green they were almost blue and it was like we were in a cathedral with the towering trees supporting a forest ceiling. And then I realized that the trees had given way to a huge semi-circular stone mountain cave opening and just then we all saw it, the “hole in the ceiling” – we had arrived at the entrance to Hobbitland!

When alone and confronted with, well, the supernatural, it’s all up to you, but when others see what you see by majority rule it takes on a real cool vibe.
From our view we could see just how far we had traveled – off to our right across the creek and through a clearing, we could look down upon a misty carpet of green treetops and down to the lowlands. We were so high that it seemed like the blue of the sky was the atmosphere just on the other side of the Hobbitland “Doorway”.

We all began to sense that the air we were breathing was different, exhilarating, but different – or were we having a unified reaction to our cumulative doses of Psilocybin?
Our psychedelicized time/space distortion and psychic physical abilities of endurance got us to this point and now we needed to make a group decision: to continue on or start the long trip back down the ravine – and that’s not accounting for any side “trips” on the way.

Was what we saw the Doorway to  Hobbitland? Or just a continued ascent through a progressively more unearthly lush environment in Big Basin Supernatural Forest?
I’ll never know for sure, as even psychedelicized heads prevailed; though two of us were adventurous, one was cautious and one was done – Cautious had the car keys.
We reluctantly headed back down the ravine. Thankfully another nice dose of our Psilocybin Psychic Power assisted us greatly.

After some cool adventures at our final destination in Oregon, we had to get back on the road to L.A. as we were low on cash and stash.  Fortunately, lower on cash, for as we all know, “Weed will get you through times of no cash, better than cash will get you through times of no weed!”

While passing through Monterey we found out that the Big Sur Folk Festival was happening – another totally unplanned entertainment treat. So we stopped, parked and wandered in and caught a couple songs by Joan Baez; “Joan Baez – The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” and “Let It Be”. We needed people like Joan Baez – she was focused, credible and determined to stand up for free speech, human rights, freedom, equality and justice, even if it meant being arrested. She was a spokeswoman for our tribe with a beautiful voice to convey it all.

Back on the road before leaving the Big Sur area we stopped and enjoyed the Famous (to us Hippies) Tarzan Swing Over the Pond! A terrific ride from a thick rope tied by a brave soul waaaay out on a very high massive tree limb over a huge, deep beautiful blue-green pond hidden just off the ocean side of Highway One.
You’d swing out like Tarzan holding a vine from a rock ledge fairly high up already; so you start out high above the water and then swing out even higher, so when you let go you get the thrill of a mini-free-fall before you dive in.  Real Hippie fun!

There were usually others of our Tribe there skinny-dippin’ and Tarzan Swingin’ but that day we had it all to ourselves – for a while – until a couple groups showed up and that was our cue to pass the fun on to them and we got back on the the last leg of our Psychedelic Psilocybin Days and Ethereal Opium Nights Hippie Road Trip.

Us Hippies knew how to have fun naturally:
smokin’ nature’s herb enjoying nature’s mushrooms holdin’ on to nature’s hemp rope 
swingin’ from nature’s trees and then diving into nature’s water.


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“00individual’s Psychedelic Self 1972” copyright 2007/2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #11 – 1972

My girlfriend and I and our three dogs returned to L.A. from a six month fall/winter adventure in Mammoth Mountain and stayed briefly with friends in Redondo Beach before getting our own pad.

One afternoon while still at my friend’s, he asked me if I wanted to drop some acid and handed me a tab. He was an intelligent tripper who, like myself, had adequately mastered the psychedelic craft of tripping so we each took a hit.

He maintained a state-of-the-art sound system and we decided to listen to Hendrix albums on our earphones; we both had Koss Pro 4 AA with the quality soft gel ear pads that blocked out all exterior sounds – and were big and comfortable.

He had a two year old Irish Setter, “Moonshadow”, a big puppy, who was gonna hang with us in the upstairs room. The room was Bohemian Hippie style with tapestries that billowed down from the ceiling from all four corners and others that were draped on the walls. On the floor was a cool pile of bean bag chairs and huge pillows and at the other end of the room was a blacklight with blacklight posters on the wall . . .
. . . ah yes, the Cult of the Blacklights’ Purple Glow – a whole generation grooved to the designs, images, day-glo colors and general trippy vibe that emanated from these highly-detailed vibrant posters, that, under hallucinatory states, became “windows into other realms”.
Another blacklight benefit was the way it lit-up bright neon blue whites in clothing and other mysterious items and the way you’d get that spooky cool “vampire tan tinted purplish glow” skin always added to an already fun psychedelic vibe – even when not on psychedelics.

Classic Blacklight Poster by Rick Griffin – 1967 – San Mezcalito, the Patron and Protector
of all those souls who dig herbs created by God to enlighten the minds of men

We decided it best to start with Electric Ladyland as that gave us four sides to explore. We rolled a couple joints of fine weed for the trip and loaded a bowl to prime our take off.

After having taken many trips you can get a Pavlovian response, kind of like your mind salivates, a conditioned reaction when your brain realizes the oncoming altered state and you start to feel the come-on effects even before actually taking the dose. Trippy!

Leisurely propped-up against the bean bag pillows, we lit the bowl, took hits and put our earphones on and set the trip in motion as the needle touched down on vinyl.
With eyes closed we were sealed-off from the ambient outer world and the adventure began with
… And The Gods Made Love“, this was a perfect sound to start out on any trip.

Depending on the type and grade of psychedelic, the come-on state can be anything from a mellow escalating experience to a grinding white-knuckle surge, and anything in between, but usually all roads led to the same place and once you arrived at your destination, the fun began.
Like when the first tremolos of “Voodoo Chile” shattered the wall between this world and the next,
I had arrived, just in time to bathe in the Moon’s fiery red rays and to be swept away on eagle’s wings.
From that point the music took on a multi-layered feeling that could be seen as an architectural floating translucent embodiment that passed right by both sides of my head like the images that fade from your peripheral view when driving down any street – only it was the passing music.

My body was feeling weightless, as if I was just above the ground resting on invisible pillows. Just then a massive swoosh of sound soared through my now universe-sized head as Hendrix’ guitar told stories in a alien tongue that I instinctively understood.

Once back on planet Earth and as Side One ended, I lit up a joint while my friend put on Side Three – he never “stacked”.
Moonshadow realized we were back for the moment and came over for some affection which I was glad and happy to give. My friend and I exchanged psychedelic grins as we enjoyed our marijuana break then settled back in to continue to feed our heads.

The great bluesy, moody rocker, “Rainy Day, Dream Away” got us on track so that the epic – and one of 00individual’s “Rarified Air” Tracks “1983 …(A Merman I Shall Turn To Be)” could slip us away into the depths to cruise the City of Atlantis.

Much like the vivid dreams most people have, supposedly every night even if not remembered, the acid trip with eyes closed can be quite hallucinatory and you can get somewhat “lost”, in which case, opening your eyes for stabilizing purposes helps.  But too much focus in the real world takes away from the trip at hand and creates diversionary “monkey-mind” issues to bum your trip – better to get back to Atlantis.


The undersea world sounds of “1983 …(A Merman I Shall Turn To Be)“ became eternal, it was the sea itself, it was part of my psychedelic life; it was everywhere.
At his point I must have left my body for I had changed, I was a  mental spirit, not human, I was experiencing a life separate from myself, one that had no body.

Now deep down I knew this was not so, but that’s what it felt like and when I’m into a trip, and a fun one at that, then I’d personally go where it takes me. The visions, places and things I saw were sometimes fleeting and sometimes as if time stood still, where intricate details of the unknown were on display, right in front of me – all of this courtesy of the seductive force of Hendrix and the visions his music created.

While I was all over the place when the alien underwater world came into focus I felt like I had my body back again and found myself standing on a street in a murky outlying area of the City of Atlantis. Just then I felt jolts of electricity shoot down my arm and out my fingertips. The sensation while somewhat painful also felt empowering, it made me feel like a part of the cosmic vibe and then another jolt would come. I wanted to harness this power of tiny lightning bolts that shot off my fingers and lit up the area around me.

With the ending of “Moon, Turn the Tides … Gently Gently Away” I felt my physical body’s sensations returning and with that a strange feeling on my right arm, just as another jolt was triggered. My arm felt numb but like some beast had been gnawing on it – and when I looked down at my arm I realized that Moonshadow had been chewing on it like a big bone – I was her Psychedelic Chew Toy!

Thankfully, the gnawing was superficial and she wasn’t vicious, just a puppy with her chew toy.  And I realized that the electricity that I felt was her teeth hitting a perfect nerve just below my elbow that sent the “electricity” down my arm.

I don’t know how long she was at it but since I was LSD-assisted OOB and didn’t stop her I guess she figured it was OK and she was obviously having contented fun and my friend got a psychedelic kick out of my acid trip battle wounds; so it turned out to be a good trip for all three of us!


00individual counts himself among the very few Hendrix fans who have experienced his albums on
“studio quality” headphones
AND listened to them on virgin vinyl (I had my “naked ElectricLadies-Land” import pressing with me)
AND on a dedicated LSD trip.
A true psonic psychedelic psubmarine “Experience”.


Post Epilog:
After headphones we cruised the beach as the sun set; breathing in the rejuvenating salty sea air, the mellow ambient transference from day to night as lights everywhere began to glow, and we grinned psychedelic grins as we drove off into the night … for the trip had just begun . . .

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“VISIONS I” copyright 1970/2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #12  – Fall / Winter 1970

As I run down these psychedelic experiences, it made me realize that I hung out with Monster Mikethe Drug Dealer, Intelligent Hipster and Hippie Road Trip partner, much more than I previously realized. He was a year or two older and I never caught up with him until we were out of high school. But apparently our appreciation for the psychedelic worlds seemed to place us in each others’ company across these True Psychedelic Trip Chronicles.

On a crisp late Fall early evening I went to see Mike’s new digs; he moved inland from Venice Beachto West L.A. near UCLA.  We were smokin’ hashish and waitin’ on friends when he offered me a hit of Mescaline, we both took a hit and then resumed the inhalations of the bowl of hashish.

This specific evening had an indelible stamp; listening to the just released Allman Brothers album, “Idlewild South”. It was side one with “Revival” and “In Memory of Elizabeth Reed” that drove the night’s experience. Mike and I agreed that Duane and Greg and Dicky Betts especially really took their music up a couple notches with this album.

As the evening progressed, the twinges of the psychedelic were hiding in the jungle bushes just outside the camp fire of my mind and after some good friends arrived I was feeling very strange. Not normal psychedelic strange, I felt a creative surge so intense that I had to lie down in a back bedroom – usually the last thing I’d do on psychedelics and the only time that I ever pulled a deliberate anti-social move.

I wasn’t freaking out or anything, it was like I needed to channel this unknown energy so I laid down on the bed but felt as if I were floating above the bed. I knew I had to close my eyes and immediately as I did visions consumed my whole field of vision including my peripherals.
As if on a scroll, images, paintings and creations appeared just long enough for another to take its place. Each ”image” had a depth to it like some sort of an etheric semi-solid and everywhere else outside the framed “painting” area was pure white, but not so pure; as I could peripherally see dimensional cloud-like organic forms.
This was some cool shit.

“VISIONS II” copyright 1970/2013 00individual  TLL

As I floated I just let it flow. The curious thing was that I knew, while viewing these visions, that I created them, not just then, but before, sometime before that night I created those images, I knew it as well as any other painting or drawing I had done in the past. And I was sure that I wasn’t creating them as they appeared – there’s a difference between creating something and having completed a creation – the first has yet begun the second is done – and there were hundreds that I had “done” that scrolled before me. I was experiencing personal evidence of time travel or reincarnation or a very potent hallucination / vision from a hit of strong mescaline.

I endorse the theory and truth as evidenced by Psychedelic Explorers like myself that with a certain high-grade dose of a hallucinogenic like mescaline, and at certain moments, and in certain frames of mind, one can access parallel worlds, time travel, the supernatural and higher levels of consciousness.
This is why for some of us there was such an allure to alter our minds and literally take a trip to these dimensions, or even weirder, a trip through your own everyday life within a newly-realized world. All within our mind’s reach. And all of this enjoyed while all six senses are throttled to the max

There was really never any way to express those visions of self-lit colors until the magic of self-lit digital art on a screen. However, even digitally it cannot reproduce the altered state-of-mind and ambient environment of the peaceful and joyous chat of humans in another room muffled by the stereo’s equally uplifting musical vibe that served as background for the levitated view of the phantasmagorical gallery displayed before me.

Most of the images where overpowered by white so many took on an intense opalescence.  And on top of all of that I could pretty much taste the colors in my brain, not in my mind, actually right in my brain,
Sometimes the creations had vague cosmic architectural “structures” and environments and some seemed to slightly morph or evolve organically within the image – this triggers the subject regarding the spectrum of levels of hallucinations / visions / realities and which is which . . . and can you hallucinate while hallucinating? Actually, yes, very much like “Inception”.

So, on that night, did I go Back to the Future Past?
If what I saw was from a previous time (back) in the present (future) of the past?!

“VISIONS III” copyright 1970/2013 00individual  TLL

A similar experience of closed-eyed visions has surely happened to countless trippers; mine is no different other than the fact that I’ve always been an artist so my psychedelic experience became a personal time travel question of where and when I created all that I saw while I was Back To The Future Past.
I guess that I could have also created them in the future, which is actually true in regard to the three reasonably-decent reproduction images featured in this post  Either way, it was a highly memorable psychedelic trip.

Eventually I was no longer floating above the bed but lying on it and my closed-eyed visions had left.  I returned to the groove of Mike’s get-together and soaked-up the righteous new Allman Brothers album and carried on with the wide-eyed hallucinogenic fun of the rest of the night.
The others had some catching up to do as I saw them all begin in phases to experience the strong strain of mescaline courtesy of Monster Mike, Trusted Connoisseur of Psychedelics.

“People can you feel it, love is everywhere.”

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“One hit from the “Mask” copyright 2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #13  – late ’60s / early ’70s

Back in late 1970 Santana’s “Abraxas” album was making Rock History and besides Carlos Santana’s amazing guitar virtuosity he had a distinct look and 00individual’s tight buddy a guitar playin’ Stewardess chaser and fellow road trip warriorbeach-pad dwelleracid trip taker,
motorcycle rider had a close enough resemblance to Carlos Santana (he even sported a ‘stache and “soul patch” that Santana was famous for) that we’d sometimes call him “Carlos” or “Santana” just to goof with him.

Here is a classic photo taken while in Aspen, Colorado in 1971 on one of our L.A. to Aspen road trips of 00individual providing “Santana” a wake-up stream of reverse-engineered weed through a standard tobacco pipe – nothing like waking up stoned, before you’re awake.  What you see is the tail end of an exhausted pipe-load of turbo-charged weed.

This fun technique of dispensing marijuana brings up the similar technique we’d use to stoke another fun piece of marijuana paraphernalia – the “deadly” Gas Mask.

good morning too00
00individual dispensing weed via reverse-engineering to “Santana” – 1971.

As evidenced above, the inevitable search for the 1001 ways to consume weed was on!
Someone was always coming up with a new technique, pipe, contraption or apparatus to smoke weed. We were blazin’ trails while we were blazin’ weed; we were in new territory and therefore tried everything, but nothing came as close to a hallucinatory marijuana overdose than with the use of the deadly Gas Mask!

Rendition of 00individual’s Famous Gas Mask circa late ’60s / early ’70s.

00individual fashioned a screened elbow copper tube for a bowl at the end of the mask’s accordion breather tube. This mask was stripped down with no goggles and straps removed so that it fit air-tight over the nose and around the face and chin, kind of like a ninja mask, and was a convenient way for passing around to group meetings of the Tribe.

Starting the flow from the bowl to the face mask end was quite a “lung” job, but if someone else cupped the rim of the lit bowl and blew through it gently and steadily it would stoke the fire and begin priming the smoke up the tube to the masked inhaler who would do the rest. This technique is demonstrated in the color photo above.

Thus, you were able, and encouraged, to exhale a monster lungful to inhale a monster lungful through your nose or mouth or back and forth – and once the bowl got going there would be clouds of smoke that would billow out as the mask was passed from Tribe member to Tribe member.
Those overdose tokes created a domino-effect of unavoidable coughs, hacks and laughter courtesy of the Mask. Groovy!
This scene was not a common one as the Mask usually only introduced itself when the right number of Tribe members were present, the vibe was right and when there was enough stash to blow – the Mask was for pure decadence.

The only downside, if you’d call it that, was that if you were serious about your deep held inhalations of the Mask then you could get really stoned; which in most cases resulted in a physiological state of immobility with, yes, only in this case; a lack of motivation, but the Mask provided an upgraded keen sense of sight and sound. For sight; reality-bending hallucinations like the header art above may appear and for sound; the best years of Historic and Classic Rock Albums were being released during 1969, 1970 and 1971 and were surely playing for our sheer pleasure during any of our Pow-Wows while we “gassed” ourselves into oblivion.

“It’s A Gas”


For those of you interested in numerology, the number 13 and synchronicity:
00individual posted this Mind-Blower #13
on November 13
at 13 hundred hours
and 13 minutes (1:13 PST) .


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Rendition of 00individual’s Black Box circa late ’60s / early ’70s copyright 2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #14  – late ’60s / early ’70s

The Black Box was made by a science-fiend and Spiderman gymnast friend in L.A. and consisted of two big Frankenstein bolts exposed on the top of the Box next to, but apart from each other with a red button positioned below center between them.  Inside was a secret mix of batteries and electrical stuff designed so that whoever touched both bolts and completed the circuit when the red button was pushed would get a good jolt of ee-lec-tricity!

The Black Box put out enough juice that the effect on a group of people holding hands to complete the circuit – once jolted – would/could result in screams, yells, broken circuits from hands yanked back in shock and laughter; so a single jolt per person was, well, …adequate.

I brought the Black Box along on our move from L.A. to Mammoth Mountain for the winter of 1971 as it was always an exciting and fun Tribe-pleaser. One evening while playing Hearts and listening to Pink Floyd’s new album Meddle, we all agreed that it was time to make things more interesting; so whoever ended up with the Queen of Spades had to take a hit from the Black Box.
The anticipation of the shock was probably worse than the actual shock, well, not really, but it was exhilarating foreplay to the inevitable. That said, we also stipulated that if anyone tried to run all the points and didn’t succeed and held the Queen, then they’d have to take 13 jolts of electricity, per the Queen’s value. However, if they were successful every other player would have to take thirteen jolts each – so this suddenly became a high stakes game of Hearts.

Mr. Frost, our neighbor and fellow psychedelic soul was pretty good at Hearts and he and I had a considerable good-natured competitive one-ups-man relationship for the bizarre, so we all agreed; knowing full well with those stakes that no one but either of us would attempt a “run” anyway.

As he game progressed I felt I had a very real opportunity to get all 26 points and not only win the hand, but the evenings’ game, shut-down Mr. Frost and make everyone take their thirteen jolts.

Although I was very close, I was unsuccessful and took the thirteen jolts. But in doing so I realized that I could take more – for once I was “glued to the bolts” it was like involuntary muscle reaction mixed with a sharp pain, but after that night I felt I could probably take jolts forever.

One night everyone was getting high and we went through a series of Black Box experiments from group hand held shocks to the now famous “endurance” runs where Mr. Frost and I held the joint Championship. This led to the next level of Black Box fun when we tried to get our girlfriends or any girls to try to connect the current through French kissing or just touching tongues. But as much as we tried, none of them were brave enough – however, this alone created a lot of interactive fun that went on for quite some time – which was one of the other mystical secrets that the Black Box held; it created opportunities for playful interaction with the Chicks, Man. But in the end the only ones willing to try were myself and Mr. Frost.

Since both of us were secure in our manhood and Seekers of the Bizarre and with a room-filled audience we decided that we would complete the circuit by touching our tongues.
Imagine our surprise when our wet tongues heightened the shock past what we were normally expecting – plus the electricity ran right under our tongues along the sublingulal ridge and zapped the tips of our tongues with what I heard in my head as a crack like a whip as our heads involuntarily recoiled and the gathered Tribe went wild with laughter – fun was had by all.

Whether straight, stoned or psychedlicized, it’s all about the heightened exciting anticipation . . until . . . zap!


The mysterious inner secrets of the Black Box revealed!

Ah, yes, good times indeed.

Items as seemingly insignificant as the Black Box represented a predestined search by an entire generation to experience the extremes in all of life in order to make sense of life.

Why were we unashamed to shed our clothing and “nude-up” naturally?
Why were we unafraid to consume mind-altering drugs with absolutely no knowledge of the consequences?
Why were we so in tune with an unknown evolving culture while rejecting traditional values?
How did we become aware at just the right time in history to spearhead the “Question Authority” mandate on a generational level?
The answer to these questions and many more like them is simple; Baby Boomers were
predestined to rebel because the times demanded a new reality.

History is high-watermarked by individuals, groups, states and nations that have made an indelible impact for change in world history – but there has only been one generation that has done so. That is not random, that is predestined.

The willingness and ability to attain awareness and then use that knowledge to take action and stand up to the “authorities” during a time in history that needed a revolutionary nudge out of the tired, restricted, unjust and unquestioned doldrums of past traditions and moral “laws” was what ”my generation” was here to do. That is not random, that is predestined.

Unfortunately, our work was never done and we must forever be vigilant, for no matter what era – there is always a Monster on the loose . . .

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“Marijuana: the Gateway to Higher Consciousness” copyright 2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #15  –  mid to late ’60s

Every day, people get high from Marijuana for the first time in their lives.
The monumental difference that sets the 1960′s experience worlds apart from any other time is that in the decades prior only all the fringe types; musicians, actors, artists, writers, doctors, poets, philosophers and the criminal element dabbled in weed and drugs – but now for the first time in history an entire generation were explorers who willingly smoked nature’s weed and took mind-altering drugs fearlessly – and from tales told, with excited curiosity.

Once “experienced” we understood the wondrous consciousness-raising, mind-expanding, mind-altering awareness abilities that, coupled with equal doses of happiness, love and hilarity, became an infinite journey of exploration of all of the five senses; and of some we never knew we had.

Just after New Year’s 1966 in early January, my best friend picked me up in his new, previously-owned, ’55 Ford Fairlane and posed the question, if he had a joint would I smoke it with him, I eagerly said yes, and he reached in his pocket and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette tapered at one end. He lit it, took a hit and passed it to me. I inhaled deep as instructed and held the hit as long as I could. When I finally let out the smoke, my mind followed. A sense of what felt like supernatural calm overcame my physical body as well as my mind. I looked at my buddy and we were both smiling wide, trippy smiles. And with that, at nearly sixteen, 00individual had his first profound spiritual experience – and was introduced to a life-form who would become a life-long best friend.

Marijuana gave me a sense of love and well-being that I had never experienced. Besides feeling love for everything animate and inanimate and with a new level of awareness of who I was (which triggered all kinds of cascading life issues), the world I knew was now more vibrant and detailed –
I felt my hands, my skin, my face – I had never touched or felt anything like it – it was as if I had a new body that I had to get used to.  I could hear my blood course through my veins and the birds chirping in the trees – everything about smoking weed was the best – trippy, far-out and cool.

Now that may sound like an acid trip but it was only in comparison to the “normal” viewpoint of the days before. With Marijuana the world does become a whole different place that matches your whole new different outlook.


The Doper zeitgeist high of this strange, but wonderful new world, was Weed/Pot (Marijuana, Hashish), Whites/Uppers (“Bennies” – Benzedrine, Amphetamine/speed) and Reds/Downers(Seconal “Sekkies”, Tuinal “Tuees” and Nembutal – Barbiturates) so the next night we smoked a couple joints with two other Doper friends and took a Downer with beer, as if the joints wouldn’t have been enough.  It was a very goofy weird but magical first “trip”; everything became slowed down, kind of like underwater where there’s a drag in your movements, you see all the familiar streets and houses, yet they all look different now, not necessarily hallucinogenic but foreign – familiar yet foreign – it was weird. This was the beginning of 00individual’s enchantment with this magikal world of Marijuana and drugs.

But the single most revealing and priceless gift that you experience is truth; inescapable truth.

Stoned faces don’t lie“ but neither did the “straights’ faces, as a matter of fact, everyone’s bullshit was evident, as was their truth. This at first was a revelation but became a humbling experience as you were now equipped with a near-perfect Bullshit Detector that was simply acquired once your mind was opened by your friend, Marijuana.
In the subtlest of cannabis inhalation to the purest LSD trip; the one experience that is universal is when the layers of your life are pulled back to reveal the “Real Me” and likewise for all that is around you; from your friends and family to society to your Government and to the Universe.


It can be a sobering experience and for many not one they wanted to have again. But for those who sought more than could ever be taught from a book, teacher or institution,
Marijuana was nature’s gift that allowed you to discover and understand vitally-important aspects of your life and of the true machinations of the world around you.
You were able to see clearly what was really important through personal experience for yourself and by yourself.
As an example: 00individual was unwillingly indoctrinated into the “Christian” church as a kid, attending every Sunday’s
solemn presentations of boredom on up through my preteens and never felt anything spiritual throughout it all. However, with Marijuana 00individual saw, felt and experienced all of the good that the church was trying to preach – only joyously, honestly, truly and on his own.

Because of the balance of the accompanying humorous amusement that spontaneous stoned enjoyment brings to a group of friends; the “new reality” was not overwhelming, but more of an observance – a journey. At the same time it magically separated the fact from the fiction we’d been told, which naturally led to our Tribe’s motto to “Question Authority” and then the inevitable rebellion against the lies, untruths and manipulation by all those who wanted to control us and keep us down and dumb – and still do to this day. Well, it didn’t work, thanks to Marijuana our generation’s eyes were opened and we saw through it all at an extremely crucial time in history.
Like Mighty Mouse and Superman, Marijuana swooped-in at just the right time to save the day!

00individual remembers back to the early days of Westchester High when we were literally the few in the whole school who were getting stoned; there were some other guys who got high that we didn’t hang with – then – but did later.
In society’s terms anyone who smoked weed or popped pills was a “Doper” – a supposedly derogatory name that we secretly took pride in as it clearly set us apart from ALL of the rest of the school population and to a greater degree, society at large – being an outlaw rebel felt cool.

There was an exciting dangerous vibe that was associated with drugs and marijuana – not only was it forbidden, but it got us “high” in so many ways – how could this not be good?!
We came upon a magical weed, literally, a magical weed that for 00individual was the best experience at the most perfect time in his life to recognize the importance to joyously live life to the fullest.

Yes, there was a sense of superiority at first and it came with the awareness of who you were before, and who you were now. We all knew how we had been positively affected and knew that all of those around us had not – and it was true and it was cool.

maryjAltered background detail from 1969 Psychedelic Collage copyright 1969/2013 00individual  TLL

In the beginning we kept things quiet, just knowing smiles and grins while passing in the halls. For a time it was like we were in a Cult, a Cult of Unity among us Dopers who now saw our world with a whole new set of eyes. People at school could suspect, but no one really knew, just rumors, because you learned to “maintain” early on when in public as it kept “trouble” away and furthered the mysterious and thrilling vibe we all shared. We were Undercover Dopers!

We were so cool that only about four of us were getting high in the “group” that I ran with called “the Caste”, but at one meeting someone who had suspicions said, “I think the Caste is going to pot” – a clever way to let the “secret” out and turn-on the rest of our group. This is a perfect example of how the universal spread of Marijuana by friends turning-on friends turning-on friends began.
Once there was less than a dozen “Dopers” in high school, but by the time I graduated in February ’69 there were probably less than a dozen students who hadn’t “smoked pot”. However, eighty-five percent just experimented; the rest of us fifteen percent adopted it as a life-style and a sacred relationship with nature.

CASTEpatchAOriginal “Caste” patch from 1969 – approx. size

00individual can remember the exact moment that his consciousness was markedly raised in one specific area of social interaction. It was from inside a local coffee shop that I saw some “jock” guys that I hung with drive by with their bare-asses out the car window. This was apparently great fun for them and whereas days before I might have been in on the “fun”, my whole mind-set had changed forever and I couldn’t have been further from it.
Consequently, the regimented military game of football had become a childish display of misguided machismo and a true waste of my energy and time so I quit my Westchester High School varsity football team the next day.
While these changes may seem minor, they were important beginnings of life-changing growth and awareness that 00individual’s spirit really needed.

This awareness spread, especially when one was on a contemplative high on your own or with others. It reinforced and exposed the knowledge of the positive and the negative of many things involving our lives – and with this new expanded consciousness we became confident and we had no problem trusting ourselves and our own intuition.

Marijuana opened the minds of a generation and for many of us we continued the journey past the ’60s and ’70s because we learned early on that,
“Once your consciousness is raised, it can never be lowered.”

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“The Eye of Mescalito” – copyright 2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #16  –  late ’60s

– Part One –

Marijuana has been criticized as a gateway “drug” (which it’s not, it’s an herb) to more “dangerous” substances such as Mescaline, LSD, Cocaine and Heroin – however the “drug glass” was not half empty, it was half full.

For the vast majority of us Hippies and the Counter Culture, the ‘Marijuana Gateway” was to a wholly beneficial and exciting new life of awareness and mind-blowing fun.

After the initial experience with Uppers and Downers and the continual enjoyment of Marijuana and Hashish, the introduction of more potent psychedelic drugs was far too enticing to resist; we were ready to take off!

The authorities had long lost any credibility with their overblown “warnings” as we became psychedelic explorers and true experts in the field of drugs and of their positive and negative effects and manageability – we became our own personal scientists and test subjects to establish the truth.

The truth was that those who condemned drug use were exactly the “type” that should never use them; the psychedelic saying was true, “Reality Is For People Who Can’t Handle Drugs”.
We were expanding our minds and our awareness daily while the rest of the world stood still, mired in the muck of closed minds, ignorance and outmoded tradition.
It’s easy to see why the “generation gap’ had no traversing bridge; we had set sail and left the straights behind.

Mescaline, occurring naturally in the Peyote cactus and used for at least 5700 years by Native Americans in Mexico provided the spiritual and hallucinogenic benefits for a wonderful introspective, colorful, psychedelic trip. At the time it was much easier to acquire Mescaline in powder (gel capsules) or tablet form, as Peyote “buttons” were considered a rarity and a treat.

The people I ran with back then were a fun group and were eager to experience a reality even more psychedelic than our good friend Marijuana provided; so when the opportunity presented itself to take a hit of Mescaline, we gladly did. Exact dates elude 00individual but early ’68 sounds about right and Mescaline quickly became the drug of choice for concerts and weekend fun.

With Mescaline, once the generally smooth “come on” leveled out, all of your senses became heightened and the thrill of psychedelic anticipation would begin. You’d feel exhilarated, kind of like when on speed but without the teeth-grinding, as for the most part Mescaline is a far less intense experience than the eventual LSD trip would deliver and therefore easier to “maintain”.

And then the audiovisuals came – like trails; those wonderful time/space delays, initially of hand movements, where five fingers became twenty, all following each other with tinges of color that vaporized off the tips of semi-invisible fingers, and strange snippets of mystical echoed sounds that seemed to be coming from the air itself, and the amusing attempts at dialogue with friends where normal everyday words sounded strange and foreign, and the album that you’ve listened to many times suddenly takes on a whole new dimension of sound and meaning. Groovy!

While the above descriptions may strike universal chords of ”classic” hallucinations that were common, there were infinitely more uncommon and personal ones due to each individual tripper’s state of mind.

Sometimes your mind would leave the trippy sunshine atmosphere and slip into the darkness, past the normality of every day life for walks into the deep areas of your mind and your life and bring up questions that you never explored, questions that, if your psyche was so inclined, would breach the surface of your mind naturally years later in your “development”. These are the realistic nightmares that the morning light rationalizes from the deep sleep within the late night before, only with Mescaline those questions and realizations stay with you  – this is awareness, facing the “real” reality of life without the daytime blinders on.
And while highly beneficial for insightful life growth, this is the main reason many tripped once and once only – exposure to real life was too real for them, better to stay in the non-psychedelic sunshine of normality.

Sometimes the trip could be so “in the present” that the people you dropped with faded into the background for spells while the very world in front of you performed any combination of wondrous psychedelic mind-benders.  Ambient colors melted and geometrically-combined whether eyes were open or closed, music became visual, hearing became super-human and everything seemed to have a sparkly edge to it – and all of this happened while experiencing an amazing sense of well-being and with a certain sense of knowing that you were now a traveler between two worlds; the world of the reality you knew, and the world of the surreal you embraced.

Eventually, after a few trips we got so good at maintaining while on Mescaline that we could operate heavy machinery, like cars and motorcycles, and go just about anywhere, confidently, even though we were stoned out of our minds.

Some of 00individual’s favorite hallucinations were experienced while trippin’ on Mescaline.

Mescaline is magick!


“Buttons” copyright 2014 00individual  TLL

End of Part One

MIND-BLOWER #16  –  late ’60s
– Part Two –

Check out
for “Cappin’ Mescaline” fun!
for “Visionary Mescaline” fun!


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the-museum11“The Night Vision” – copyright 2013 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER  #17  –  MID – ’70s

00individual has always been interested in the unknown and by the mid-70s experienced many vivid hallucinations, full-body altered states of consciousness, amazing visions and sensory-distortion time-warping psychedelic trips – but there was one experience that stood out from all the rest.

We all have Dreams, supposedly even when we don’t remember them and many times they can become as real as our agreed-upon “reality” of normal day and night.
Visions, which can come in any form anytime of day or night, stoned or straight are usually defined as insightful or prophetic on some level and fairly brief in duration and can also be very real.
And then there are Night Visions; altered states that link lucid dreaming to other planes of existence for extended super reality experiences.
What you are about to read is a true recollection of a very vivid Night Vision that allowed 00individual “a peek behind the curtain” that revealed an indelible truth.

00individual found himself in a classic “Southern Mansion” that was mainly decorated, furnished and carpeted in white. Through the mansion windows a wondrous landscape could be seen; rolling green lawns were bordered with stunningly beautiful flower gardens and everything was saturated in color.
While I was mesmerized by the landscape, a tall man with a tan complexion, white hair and a pronounced forehead wearing an all white suit entered the room and telepathically invited me to follow him through the huge doors to the outside garden area.

Once through the door to the outside I was engulfed with air that seemed to expand my lungs like a righteous hit of Primo Hashish does, and it took a moment to adjust. The air was also filled with the sound of barely audible spacey birds –  it was like the air was alive.

A panoramic view of the color-soaked environment revealed what looked like a small mausoleum off to the right. We walked toward it and as we did I started to get an apprehensive thrill, a strange feeling that I had never experienced before; like a mini-rollercoaster for the mind and body, only no rush just a sustained lo-fi weird thrill vibe.
awhite manroom1

The Man in White opened the door and motioned me inside. As I entered the foyer the entire interior appeared to be immense – impossibly larger than the small exterior led me to believe. Again I needed to adjust to another level of rarefied air.

There was a hall before me that went on forever and on both sides of the hall were a myriad of artifacts that defied description. I looked up to the ceiling to see that there wasn’t one, the walls just seemed to continue up into the low-lying clouds.

On either side of the hall from about waist high down to the floor were countless wooden drawers that went on down the hall into infinity. The floor was solid but semi-transparent and I could see a complete star system beneath my feet.

I reached out and slowly slid open one of the drawers. As with the building itself, once the drawers were opened, they too appeared to have an undetermined depth and width that seemed to reach my peripheral view. Inside the drawer was a display of intricate objects; some looked arcane and some with incredible designs but all were astonishingly beautiful, yet I had no idea what they were.
If just one drawer contained these kinds of objects and non-objects then there must have been an infinite amount within all of the drawers that were within sight and out of sight.

On the walls were equally unique and bizarre artifacts that ranged from organic to mechanic to some so strange that they seemed to be animated, but not alive, unless they were and some seemed to have minute universes swirling slowly around them. One vibrated to the point of disappearing then reappearing.

While it was a true mind-blower to experience what I was seeing, I had an instinctual feeling that I was not supposed to be in there, yet I was invited, but by whom, and why – or did “someone” sneak me in. In any case, I knew that this was supremely special – all of it.

Just then, way down the hall on the right side, one of the wooden drawers slowly began to open by itself. An ominous and scary feeling came over me and then I saw a thin, dark, shadowy silhouetted figure slowly climb out of the drawer and get into a creepy crouched position. This was not good and as the shadowy figure started toward me I took one last look around and headed for the open door.
Once outside the building, the doors closed behind me and the ominous feeling of fear was replaced with a feeling of exquisite satisfaction.

And that was it, I slumbered away until I awoke the next morning thrilled with the vivid recall of my Night Vision experience.

Over the years prior to the Night Vision 00individual had diligently proven to “the Powers” that he was a dedicated, willing and true explorer of the unknown and therefore among those deserving of a “peek behind the curtain”.
In this case it meant actually being able to see some of the secrets of the universe; evidence of other sentient beings’ cultures, implements, inventions, creations, technology and essentials  . . . and even to acknowledge the intangible.

Fortunately, my last serious look was over my shoulder at the entire hall, and even decades later it is still a very vivid memory. Unfortunately it’s impossible in this human form to reproduce any accurate visualization. However, in one of the many attempts thus far at reproducing what I saw, please see the header art for a very primitive human translation/depiction by 00individual done back in 2006.

Being that this was thee most real altered-reality episode I had ever experienced – way more vivid than any dreams, visions, acid trips or psychedelic experiences – it set itself apart as a  stone true confirmation for 00individual of the infinite levels of existence of other forms of life and their cultures that thrive among many universes, galaxies and dimensions.

What I was allowed to see, legitimately or covertly, was a multicultural multidimensional sentient being Akashic record in Astral-level museum form.

Does life exist beyond our reality? Absolutely, with no doubt whatsoever. The question should be, “How many possible sentient life forms are there and on how many different dimensions?
As we are but one.

00individual has known this fact since the mid-’70s when he was allowed to take
“a peek behind the curtain”.



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DRUG WORLD Theme Park’s most thrilling ride: LSD


MAP of DRUGLANDPSYCH“Drug World Theme Park Map” copyright 2014 00individual  TLL


MIND-BLOWER #18  –  late ’60s / early ’70s

The Ultimate Psychedelic Hallucinogenic Drug of them all and the “acid test” of one’s wills and skills;
What can I say about this elixir?

By the early ’70s our Tribe had survived and enjoyed all of the rides at Drug World as we experienced the ups and downs of Pharmaceutical Land, happily smoked Marijuana, Hashish, PCP and Opium on the Stoned Mountain Islands, we ventured into the colorful forests and jungles of Entheogenic Land while tripping on Mescaline, Peyote and Psilocybin and then explored the empowering and stimulating thrills of Cocaine and the warm embryonic hip coolness of Heroin in Extreme Land – but it was LSD Land that had the scariest and most fun rides in the Park!

Ramping up from the Timothy Leary “Turn on, tune in, drop out” days it was publicized that our whole generation was experimenting with LSD, and it sure seemed that way but while there were many who tried LSD, the ranks thinned rapidly after just one trip as not everyone could handle LSD’s mind-altering effects – but there were many for whom once was not enough – and many who lost count after dozens, even hundreds of trips.

The quote, “Reality Is For People Who Can’t Handle Drugs”, should have advanced to, “Reality Is For People Who Can’t Handle The Truth”, because that’s what comes forth on an acid trip – the stark-raving truth of your micro-macro reexamined life. And if these truths are faced head on, they’ll make you a better person for yourself and others.*

This be heavy psycho-delic shit.200

But then there’s also the extra-sensory psychedelic fun that is your supernatural symbiotic partner on every psychedelic trip.
Fun. Unimaginable Fun.
00individual believes in everything, and therefore believes in nothing: no one thing.
But for fun’s sake let’s see what qualifies one as a God. At the very top of the list of qualifications is that He/She/It would have to have thee best sense of humor. An omnipresent being that knows in advance all human and alien, (to us), foibles and conditions that while repetitive, the humor may still never get old. 00individual hears the Gods let out a chuckle.
And maybe an ultimate sense of humor is what’s required just to get into the Club, you know, the select club that convenes when new worlds are being created. They probably draw straws to see who’ll be the next Martyr, like on the physical plane of Earth, it was Jesus who drew the short straw so he had to initiate the original “New World” Order.

Anyway, 00individual deliberately digresses as an example of the type of acid-induced stream of consciousness conversations one can have with another tripper, or just as well, in conversation with oneself.
Critics say people do that every day in their own heads without psychedelics. And this is true, however with LSD, there is a spiritual awareness and core realizations that power those clever thoughts and have the impact to progress one’s awareness, to take seriously one’s thoughts – a psychedelic imprint that stays with you for the rest of your life.
LSD’s attraction and charm is that it promises to open doors within you to places you previously never knew existed, places you need to say good bye to and places that need to be explored.

And then there’s the thrill of the come-on, that slow tingly surge that swells up inside you like a cold drink of water on a hot day, the sensation of every part of your body energized by a cosmic force that makes you feel like you could fly! That’s feeling that you can fly, not thinking that you can fly. So we all came back for more as LSD was fun, liberating, spiritually-stimulating, physically-thrilling and mentally-mind-bending.


For 00individual it was the same with LSD as it was with women; it wasn’t about quantity as much as it was about quality, (but there was quantity), as each trip was enjoyed for whatever journey it took, from sublime heights of pleasure and beauty to harrowing depths of madness where sanity was stretched and hung by a thread . . .  wait, am I talking ’bout women or LSD trips? . . . or both?

The Tribe that I ran with were all Psychedelic Kidz and we dropped acid whenever appropriate, like for concerts, parties, any weekend, week day and/or night and definitely every Fourth of July.

True to the “strangeness attracts strangeness” theory, every trip would somehow incorporate something abnormally bizarre, something that would never happen any other time than when you’re trippin’ – this is clear evidence of the Cosmic Jokers at work – they know how to pick a moment at your expense and it usually provides strange cosmic amusement – so I guess we both benefit.
There is truly a synchronicity that connects and contributes to the reality of some LSD trips – a connection to an awareness that is not unlike coming up from the ambient silent sensory deprivation environment of say, under water in a pool, and then surfacing slowly until your eyes and ears experience the whole new world of a Rockin’ backyard pool party where all of your senses are intensified – it’s that emergence into another level of consciousness that signals and draws extraordinarily strange events to you – you have made yourself known in “their” world.

Melves“Cosmic Joker At Work” copyright 2007 00individual  TLL

Truth really is stranger than fiction and in 00individual’s little part of the world for most of 1965 thru 1975, life was truly a strange but exciting adventure every day in ways that psychedelics really just enhanced. Magical Drugs for Magical Times.

Here are some of 00individual’s favorite era-specific albums to groove to while psychedelically exploring Drug World:

Hendrix – Experienced, Axis & Ladyland
Traffic – Mr. Fantasy
Stones – Let It Bleed
Pink Floyd – Ummagumma, Meddle, DSOTM & WYWH
Tangerine Dream -Phaedra (Virgin label’s first album release)
Mantovani – Grand Canyon Suite
Ten Years After – Cricklewood Green
Environments series 1-6  from ’70-’74
The Who – Live at Leeds
The Mahavishnu Orchestra – The Inner Mounting Flame
Nektar – A Tab in the Ocean
The Doors – 1st
Tomita – Snowflakes Are Dancing
Moody Blues – Days of Future Passed
Dr. John, the Night Tripper – Gris -gris
Cream – Disraeli Gears
Led Zeppelin – 1st & 2nd
King Crimson – In the Court of the Crimson King
Robin Trower – TRFY & BOS
The Rolling Stones – Their Satanic Majesties Request
Satanic Majesties always won out over Sgt. Pepper’s as it was a far more psychedelic experience.
A continuing trip of varied styles, yet cohesive and with 2000 Light Years from Home”? Yowza!
Mick and the Boys can dis this album but they laid down a lot of psychedelic truth on vinyl, seriously, this album IS an acid trip.
Highly appreciated by 00individual and those who got it.
Performance – Motion Picture Soundtrack
Mick at it again with Ry Cooder, Jack Nitzsche, Merry Clayton, Randy Newman, Bernard Krauseand Buffy Sainte Marie.
This album is thee perfect aural example of an actual LSD trip as it goes through many levels of heavy vaporous sonic delicacies intertwined with Jagger’s “Memo From Turner” and Newman’s “Gone Dead Train”. Whew! 


*Although a spiritualist, not a psychonaut, Eckhart Tolle has crafted a universal, perfectly-worded representation of the vital moments within a trip when sacred truths are revealed and resonate with one’s spirit culminating in the need to manifest those truths into our own every day “real world” life:
“As soon as you honor the present moment, all unhappiness and struggle dissolve, and life begins to flow with joy and ease.  When you act out the present-moment awareness, whatever you do becomes imbued with a sense of quality, care, and love – even the most simple action.”

Amen, Brother.



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FRIDAY the 13th



It’s not always psychedelic drugs that create mind-blowing experiences, sometimes it’s the place – and sometimes it’s the place in time.

00individual continued seeking varied esoteric knowledge beyond the Golden Years of Psychedelia and will continue ’til his dying day.
Therefore, as the years and decades rolled by 00individual’s altered states of consciousness kept in cosmic connection with the “strange attracts strange” theory – proven many times within these posts – and is evident in this strangely synchronistic Friday the 13th experience.

So, get altered and take a short Trip from the ’60s and ’70s into the future for Mind-Blower #19:

It was September, 1996, I was driving east from Pacific Coast Highway on Wilshire Boulevard in Santa Monica, California as I have done many times before, only this time it was on a Friday, the 13th.

My destination was a production company I was affiliated with that was east of 26th street and down a few blocks south of Wilshire.

Lunch hour traffic delayed my progress as I slowly passed 11th street, then 12th, so I decided to turn south at the next street, Euclid, and zig-zag the rest of the route.
Euclid is used in many cities across the U.S. as the stand-in street name for the superstitious street number “13″.

Exactly as I turned south onto Euclid (13th Street), I just happened to look at my Jeep’s digital clock as it changed from 12:59 to 1:00 PM (1300 hours) on Friday the (13th). As I completed the right turn the sky immediately dimmed, like when you put on sunglasses, only I was already wearing sunglasses.

I raised my shades at once to see why the sky dimmed, but had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a woman pedestrian who appeared in front of me. Even though she was not crossing the street at a crosswalk, she still shook her fist at me.

00individual has learned long ago that to ignore signs is basically a sin and to make excuses for bizarre synchronicity is equally as bad.
That said the only thing that could have darkened the sky that way would have been a huge passing cloud, and it was a clear day. So whatever happened that Friday the 13th will always be a mystery.

But 00individual knows that this was not a mystery, it was a gift; a strange, bizarre, quick synchronistic 13th street, 13 hundred hours, Friday the 13th Psychedelic Trip for a deserving and observant Tripper.

Seems apropos to thank all of the Gods of Rock ‘n’ Roll (Hedonism, pure Hedonism), the Gods of Karma (pre-life commitments), Cosmic Jokers (I know who you are), Deities and Devils (human and otherwise) for the allowance of the opportunity to experience a lifetime in this time in history.
00individual thanks all forces who contribute to higher understandings with an outrageous sense of humor, mostly, in the end – mostly. I feel like Newt.

100_3851Eerie West Coast Friday the 13th Sunset” copyright 2014 00individual  TLL

The strongest basis as a source for the negativity surrounding this date occurred on Friday, Oct. 13, 1307 when France’s King Philip IV had the Knights Templar rounded up as a falsely-accused “corrupt order” within the church and then had them tortured and executed for heresy.
Justifiably the infamy of this date may be forever cursed by that one event that occurred nearly seven-hundred years ago. Any negative outcome attributed to, or involving the number 13 that occurred throughout history only added to the superstition.
Proof of how powerful this symbol is negatively-imprinted in society is evident in the majority of cities and towns that have no 13th Streets or Avenues, and usually there are no 13th floors or room numbers in buildings, especially hospitals and hotels, and so on.
Airlines, the stock market and countless other service industries take a hit every Friday the 13th due to perceived negative connotations.
In essence, observance of this “superstition” by the people at large perpetuates and creates a “self-fulfilling prophecy” effect.
Frequencies of occurrence: In one year out of every seven, Friday the 13 th occurs three times; in three years, it’s twice; in the other three years, on

  • Friday the 13th – Superstitious?

    Jeff Beck – electric guitar
    Rod Stewart – lead vocals
    Ronnie Wood – bass guitar
    Micky Waller – drums
    Possibly the Best Psychedelic Blues Hard Rock Song of All Time!
    You can feel the massive momentum from the first seconds as Jeff starts out with some dirty wah-wah that he’d only been messin’ with up ‘til now.
    Rod Stewart’s never been better. Ron and Micky are massive and are at their thunderous best.
    Beck manifests some amazing wah-wah sounds, cat-calls, dog howls and distorts that eventually build into torturous levels all because that “black cat crossed my trail” – which then turns into a Beck wah-wah extravaganza which gives way to an excellent Micky Waller drum flourish whereby Beck finally destroys the wah-wah in one of the best climax/finishes in Rock history!

    This gives me cold chills, goose bumps and raises the hair I have left on my head!
    But I ain’t superstitious – mostly.


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00individual logoenifinite3

TRIPL5555sm“00individual’s Psychedelic Shot of Enlightenment” – copyright 2014 00individual  TLL

MIND-BLOWER #20  –  late ’60s / early ’70s

The influence and effect that LSD had on history and the Counter Culture of the ’60s and ’70s was profound to say the least. LSD served as the “missing link” of evolution from the stagnant dominance of “unquestioned authority” to it’s revolutionary opposite, “Question Authority”.

It all started when Swiss scientist Albert Hofmann, employed at Sandoz Pharmaceutics first synthesized LSD on November 16, 1938, and five years later in 1943 while re-synthesizing LSD he accidentally absorbed a small quantity through his fingertips and historically discovered its powerful effects. Three days later, on April 19, 1943, Hofmann intentionally ingested 250 micro grams of LSD. This day is now known as “Bicycle Day’, because after starting to feel the effects of the drug he rode home on a bike, and that became the first intentional physical and mental “acid trip”.

Meanwhile, the Nazi’s success with hallucinogens on the prisoners at Dauchau during World War II continued unabated in 1953 with the C.I.A.’s mind control program called MK-Ultra.
After experiments with hypnosis, lobotomy, electroshock, sensory deprivation, ESP and drugs, the C.I.A. finally settled on hypnosis and LSD-25 as most effective.

At the U.S. Public Health Service Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, the MK-Ultra LSD experiments escalated to the absurd by dosing some of the mostly Black “patients” up to seventy-five days straight. But they were not the only “guinea pigs”, the Government/C.I.A. has since admitted and paid out millions to thousands of families and victims due to the secret public LSD-dosing of citizens from 1955 through 1958.

While the C.I.A. and the Government may have succeeded in perfecting their LSD-enhanced hypnosis mind-control on key individual “Manchurian Candidate-style” “patsies” like Lee Harvey Oswald, Sirhan Sirhan, John Hinckley Jr. and Mark David Chapman – their further plan to blunt the ever-expanding rebellious youth movement of the ’60s by supplying millions of doses ordered from Sandoz (Sandoz refused to fill the order, so Eli Lilly did) backfired famously when the Counter Culture voluntarily dosed themselves with LSD and thus became very, very aware.

The C.I.A.’s previous test results on unwilling subjects did not include the unexpected outcome of willing subjects.
The Counter Culture’s LSD trips were entered into with curious optimism and they emerged with a higher state of consciousness, a keen eye for the truth and with an invigorated sense of purpose; to prevail over the injustice, inequality and sinister underlying oppression that was delivered in the usual condescending patriarchal manner of the unchallenged past.

The transcendent awareness that LSD delivered was undoubtedly the  icing on the Marijuana & Mescaline cake that we were already consuming to feed our heads.

Ironically, the C.I.A.’s intended use of LSD to control us actually made us more free and uncontrollable than before – it created a level playing field where we could see through their lies, misinformation, scare tactics and manipulations –  plus we had all of the trippy and fun LSD benefits to balance out all of the truths and harsh realities of the world that we were uncovering.

00individual had a fondness for LSD as it always held the anticipation of promised mystery and excitement with each Trip. It was healthy to alter your reality, it kept you alert and aware during an epic time when we all could use a little cosmic jolt and epiphanous insight to weather the changing times of both our outer and inner worlds.

 Here’s a quote about LSD from Albert Hofmann from his speech on his 100th birthday:
“It gave me an inner joy, an open mindedness, a gratefulness, open eyes and an internal sensitivity for the miracles of creation. […] I think that in human evolution it has never been as necessary to have this substance LSD. It is just a tool to turn us into what we are supposed to be.”


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ceremony00small-gif“Pretty Cool Pot Returns!” copyright 2014 00individual  TLL

Mind-Blower #21  –  late 1970


So, 00individual is in the after-throes of Mind-Blower #1 at the most free-wheeling period of his Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll days.

At 19, 00individual stashed some cash, quit his art department job, was living out of his suitcase, and going hot and heavy with one of the two Stone sisters (no, really, 00individual does not kid about things like this) and was enjoying a night with friends at her second story apartment a couple miles from the beach.

We all decided to smoke a joint laced with PCP, the good stuff, one of the early fun strains, (before it was popularly known as “Angel Dust” and then the inferior quality “Rocket Fuel”) that 00individual had acquired from the good Doctor Dean before he left for Hawaii.

This Pretty Cool Pot could get you crazy lit with one good hit – it was seriously wicked fun – so passed around between TFS, Rick, Krik, the Stone sisters and 00individual with two maybe three hits a piece, we were all in a Wonderland. A place of bizarre sight, echoey sound, malleable tactile surfaces, cartoonish distortions, epiphanies, and much laughter, fun and some trippy ethereal hallucinations – real Lewis Carroll down-the-rabbit-hole Alice stuff, like; “I can’t go back to yesterday because I was a different person then.” .

From out of the blue, and I mean for a moment or so everything was blue, came the needle touchdown sound onto vinyl with the anticipatory pause before the sounds of Quicksilver’s “Fresh Air” began.

quontQuicksilver Messenger Service – Psychedelic Rock ‘n’ Roll Space Cowboys
. . . but then again, weren’t we all . . . 

This Album Track Gem was a very popular FM-aired track back then and was a little over five minutes long – but on PCP the time stretched out to what seemed like, forever.
A non-laced joint was rolled and passed around as Fresh Air played.

Unfortunately, the Stone sisters’ mother lived in the apartment directly below and due to apartment etiquette she became embarrassed and upset over the music, merriment and “Fresh Air” emanating from her daughter’s apartment and began knocking on the front door.

One of the sisters peeked out the window and said the “mom” word and just like a bunch of kids in a Monty Python skit everyone ran to the kitchenette and hid, or so they thought – the kitchenette cupboard/bar barely blocked their heads but their waist to neck bodies could be seen in plain sight. 00individual appreciated the ridiculous humor in that.

Then as karma would have it, 00individual opened the door – and for the next few minutes there was an angry woman’s face floating in front of 00individual’s face speaking a language that was not understandable and her face would change like a funhouse mirror distortion.
00individual knew that she never really approved of him seeing her daughter, can’t blame her, he was the epitome of a Druggie Hippie Adventurer, but a responsible druggie, engaged in an average psychedelic culture/generation clash – a therapeutic rant to be karmically-endured until she finished, left and shut the door.

00individual does not remember responding using words spoken aloud in regard to whatever she said – this must be what dogs experience when being reprimanded; they know that the person is angry with them, and for something they did, they’re just too interested in that strange smell at the back fence to connect to whatever, wait, why are you angry with me again? That.

Everyone slowly emerged from their kitchen “hiding place” and started quietly laughing. We weren’t so stoned that we didn’t know what just took place, it was the context of being so stoned that just flipped the whole scene into another flat-out psychedelic real life movie weird experience of the type that tended to happen when one was psychedelically-stoned.

People, let it be told, 00individual admits to shining the light on the good and bizarre times, as they were the most fun and memorable; but that doesn’t mean that there wasn’t a responsible “job” that came along with taking any mind-altering psychedelic drugs, natural or otherwise.
Our group could really handle their drugs, and the job was to hold on to your over-mind’s reality tether, but at the same time allowing oneself to explore the moment to the fullest.
Drugs, especially psychedelics, were not for those who became easily paranoid. Paranoia was justifiable in a cautionary mode – not as a life-style.

00inidivdual will also admit that there were plenty of times where he felt pushed to the limits of known sanity within terrifying incidents and even feeling at death’s door – but even in those most crucial states, 00individual had his own Psychedelic Jiminy Cricket that would yell in his ear, “Maintain, its only the drug.”


It was getting dark and we all sat down and lit up a bowl of Marijuana – but out of everything that had just happened, the really strange thing was that Fresh Air was still playing!
However, . . . some turntables had a tractable arm that stabilized stacked LPs on the spindle/record changer; if the stabilizer arm was left in the outside-the-disc-area position, then the needle/stylus arm would automatically restart, but not at the beginning, but about mid-way into the LP.
This would account for the seemingly endless Fresh Air ambiance of the Hippie Funhouse of Pretty Cool Pot.

This Album Track Gem,Fresh Air“, had the obvious double meaning of nature’s revitalizing lungful hit of air and of course the benefits of a lungful hit of Marijuana  which obviously resonated within the Culture.
It had a uniquely invigorating laid-back quality that really caught fire with all members jammin’ to near jazz fusion levels and Valenti’s “distinct” vocals were perfect for this song, which led many sing-along choruses.

Quicksilver’s Just For Love album was well received, and their December follow-up hit and Album Track Gem: What About Me” from the album of the same name, brought a “Fresh Air” feeling into the dramatic common-sense socio-political subjects of the day with the same stoned-but-controlled delivery of “Fresh Air’.
And then there was timing, 1970 was pivotal to 00individual and the Culture, Society and the World at Large, as the screws were tightening all around as evil upped its game.
The Spirit of the song’s lyrics were zeitgeist-relevant in 1970, but the whole feel of the song can be very relevant to many individuals and groups over the past four decades.
Unfortunately,the atmosphere is far more oppressive and dangerous today than back when we thought we had it bad. Evil was still on a learning curve – today it is a perfected science.

So, know that the sentiment behind “What’ya gonna do ’bout me?” is not a plaintive cry for help; but a rebellious cry in defiance.


. . . and if you enjoyed this post, catch the same gang on another night –
with a monster among us:

MIND-BLOWER #9  – early 1970S


“Psychedelic Jiminy Cricket with Reefer Umbrella” copyright 2014 00individual  TLL


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 “Locked-in the Slipstream to Oblivion: Our VW Bug Flies!” copyright 2015 00individual  TLL

1960’s and 1970’s Culture Archives
MIND-BLOWER #22 . . . Winter 1970

Los Angeles, California to Aspen, Colorado
and the race back!
Driving Asleep, Snow Stranded with Crazy Colorado Chicks,
Deliverance Rednecks, LSD, and our VW Bug flies!

It is Winter 1970, 00individual and his good buddy Mike D were on a road trip in a classic late ’60s Volkswagon Bug from L.A. to Aspen, Colorado, and just like the far too many plot lines of future Rom-Com movies, they were going there to hang for a couple days and then escort their good friend back to L.A. for his wedding. The bride was a cute blonde Irish girl and former amicable-break-up short-term girlfriend of 00individual – what could go wrong?!

This chronicle post for the archives was written in first person by 00individual.

Driving Asleep
Somewhere about mid-way to Aspen I awoke to a sudden rumbling sensation to find myself behind the wheel, across the painted highway dividing line, through the opposing lane, off the road and sailing along flat, bumpy ground.
Instinctively, I put on the brakes to the floor without putting in the clutch and the Bug lurched and shuddered to a stop as Mike D sat frozen in fear from the sudden awakening.
If you live after falling asleep behind the wheel while driving you will never let it happen again and you will have a nice dose of adrenaline to keep you going, very alertly, for the next hundred miles or couple hours, or whichever comes first.
After at least eighteen hours on the drive straight through, and then after searching in the dark snowing landscape, we finally found our friend Rick’s cabin just before midnight.
We were glad to see each other and to finally rest, as we were exhausted and hadn’t slept, except from behind the wheel.

Snow Stranded
After smoking a bowl of Marijuana and giving Rick good-natured shit about his upcoming wedding, his phone rang and it was his landlord, he saw us arrive and told him that he would kick him out if those “Hippies” stayed the night. Great.
We had to leave, but where? We’d literally freeze in the VW. Rick made some calls and gave us a map to a nearby KOA trailer park where there were two girls who would put us up for the night.

Crazy Colorado Chicks
Remember kids, this was not uncommon at all, the vibe was one among us Hippies to help our fellow Brothers and Sisters when we could, as we would do the same for them. We were just very fortunate at his late hour and in a semi-isolated area that there were some of our Tribe who would receive us with open arms, literally.
Once inside their trailer we thanked the two girls very much for the intrusion and settled in to get some much needed sleep. But they seemed happy to have a couple guys there with them and wanted to talk.
Now under normal situations this would seem like a perfect movie moment hook-up, they were cute and spirited, but we were exhausted and sleepy. The girls wanted to talk and we were apparently a welcomed novelty.
After an interstate drive of which we stayed stoned for most all of the trip; Mike D and I would both look at each other and acknowledge the same feeling and thought: I’m exhausted –I just want to sleep! We were actually getting to that punchy state where even your own predicament is funny.
Finally, knowing that this would go on ’til dawn, I “eyebrowed” Mike D, he nodded in agreement. It was inevitable, we knew the only way to politely shut them up and get some sleep was if we got lovable and got it on with these two willing but Crazy Colorado Chicks and used up whatever energy we all had left to finally crash, peacefully.
This wasn’t misogynist or sexist; this was for our mental and physical health – and it worked!

Deliverance Red Necks (as in the Ars Gratia Artis-era hard core classic 1972 movie)
That next day we went on an explore 
 (scroll down to “. . and the Ugly”).

The Race back to L.A. is on 
After another day of Aspen knock-around snow fun (skiing was out, this was a quick escort trip), we all three planned to leave the following day and race from Aspen to L.A. – partly to insure Rick’s arrival for the wedding day priorities – and partly for the cosmic fun of it as Mike D and I agreed to drop some acid for the race.
Others of our Tribe had “raced” from L.A. to Aspen for best time one-way; Aspen was a popular place for skiers, actors, singers, artists, hippies, dopers, dealers and good people back in the day and someone always had a friend living there. It was the year that Hunter S. Thompson was running for Sheriff of Aspen and the surrounding Pitkin County.
So, it was Rick in his blue Toyota Land Cruiser verses us in the VW Bug. We didn’t leave ’til late but once on the road, the race was on!
We jockeyed through the night sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, but if behind always in view of the Toyota’s red tail lights.
Only one time we fell too far behind and ended up taking a wrong turn at Arizona and ended-up at the Grand Canyon – we just stopped, looked out at the moon-lit canyon, stared up at the stars, smoked a joint and got back on the road – and this was years before “National Lampoon’s Vacation” classic scene.

Car Breakdown, more Rednecks
Back on track, and after driving the equivalent time of side one of The Doors, the Toyota’s red lights soon came into view stopped off to the side of the road due to a dead battery, but it took a jump start to the next “town”. The gas station/garage was at the end of the town’s main strip and although it was still a couple hours til dawn the garage was open.
All three of us approached the three redneck mechanics on duty with our dilemma and with barely-disguised chuckles under their breath they said to come back when they “opened” at 6 AM  – they could have sold us a battery on the spot – they were “open” – but we were long-haired Hippies and were easy targets for their ridicule and control.
The joke was ultimately on them, shortly after 6 AM with the new battery we installed, we were back on the road to Wonderland – a trip they’d never take.

The sun was rising and we decided to drop some acid. We were at least a couple days away from the comedown from the last trip; fuzzy but alert.
Mike D was a good psychedelic buddy, always good to go, and we still had a lot of ground to cover so we ceremoniously ingested our tabs of goodness and popped the perfect LSD Rock Album, The Who – Live at Leeds, in the cassette player and cranked it up.
On a particular area of vast nothingness somewhere in Arizona/Nevada, I saw something enormous moving way, way off in the distance to the right. By the size of the dirt-storm it was causing it had to be massive – it seemed to be a grinding mass of machinery coming right toward us! Whatever it was, Godzilla would be its very little pet.
Even though miles away, the early morning sun’s reflection shot gold and silver shards of light off the clockwork-machine-geared beast as it became closer and bigger still. When finally able to speak and point it out to Mike D, it had disappeared.
There is an acquired understanding regarding aspects of psychedelic trips of the possibility that not all hallucinations are mentally manifested and that some hallucinations are actually real. When the mind reaches specific psychedelic elevations, possible alternate existences’ frequencies align and can momentarily come into view and in a “real world” sense.
Although psychedelics can be frequency alignment enhancers; stoned or straight it’s where a person’s “head” is at that gets you closer to parting the veil, or observing / interacting with an entity who’s passing through. As long as the frequencies align the two (or more) realities exist together on the same mutual plane but once the frequency wavers even slightly then the connected realities are no more.
Having experienced both, I would state that the uniqueness of this “hallucination” was because of the actuality of two planes of existence intersecting for a five to ten second real world real time experience. Was it us who impinged on a like terrain of another plane? Or was this “thing” massively moving across its own homeworld and we were the invaders?
In life, a primary desired ability is to discern which is good and which is evil, and which is real and which is unreal.
And while you’re contemplating those realities just remember that “our reality” is based on agreement.

Locked-in the Slipstream to Oblivion: Our VW Bug flies!
None of that mattered now because for some reason Mike D wanted us to get in the slipstream of this huge diesel truck that was in front of us to take advantage of the lower air pressure behind the truck and thereby providing reduced air resistance on the VW; this translates into a requirement to do less work on the VW’ s part and therefore lower fuel costs and at the same time provides the sensation and reality of being held within a high-speed tailgate tractor beam along the highway.
He kept pushing his foot on my foot on the gas pedal all the way to the floorboard and as the VW became fully-enveloped behind the truck’s draft I felt something.
The front tires were leaving the road, I could feel it. We were maxed on the speedometer at 90 MPH and I was white-knuckled to the steering wheel keeping control as the little VW Bug wouldn’t hold much longer like a bigger heavier car would.
I knew that it would only be seconds before the back tires would lift off and we’d careen out and off the road into oblivion.
And for a split second I felt all four tires leave the ground and Mike D was still acid-laughing and pushing on the gas, I had to do something so I abruptly yelled, “Hey, don’t let the weed go out the window!” That diversion was enough for him to turn and let off the gas pedal and disengage from the slipstream as the truck roared on.
In all of the commotion we lost track of Rick and didn’t know if we were ahead or behind in the race.
Still it was a wonderful feeling coming in to L.A. still high on the waves of acid. The city dirt was grittier, the signs more colorful, the awareness of your humanity heightened, the tinges and twinges of the psychedelic magic still about, and stoned or not, we experienced that warm glow you get when you’re nearing home.

A week later, after the wedding and at the reception, someone actually fell on the middle of a very long table of food and drinks so that everything slid in V-formation to the center; the happily married couple divorced within a year; and as it turned out we officially won the interstate race!
World-Class Psychedelic Times!

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abdoolie02Archival Art: “Krik, Hittin’ an Abdhouli Primo #1 Hashish-laced Joint”
copyright 1970/2015 00individual  TLL
Un-retouched – 1970 Rapidograph-enhanced over-exposed photo.
(Real collapsable Top Hat purchased at the M.G.M. studio sale
became a fun communal hat for anyone to wear while hangin’ and gettin’ high.)

MIND-BLOWER #23 – Spring 1970

During a historic year – 1969 – with Agent Tomas and Marzenus at the Beach Pad on Pershing Drive in Playa Del Rey California, 00individual had a motorcycle, a car, two girlfriends, a great art department job and all the drugs and weed he wanted. But after experiencing an incredible time in history and a historic time in Rock History – a truly cosmic, fun, and memorable era had ended.

00individual and Marzenus moved into a nice, two bedroom unfurnished stand-alone place isolated on top of several other units’ garages and back off the main drag and a few miles from the beach. This allowed tremendous privacy and freedom to Freak Out and to play loud music, both from the stereo and from us – Marzenus was a guitarist and 00individual had a St George drum kit with Zildjian cymbals and friends would drop by and jam. We could cut loose and party every day and night with outrageous behavior and no one complained.  A new era had begun.

The apartment was situated mid-way down the back-alley that served as the “less traveled” exit / entry of the most popular Westchester/ Inglewood McDonald’s in the area. The convenient location became a place for friends and Tribe members to drop by and the apartment soon became known as the “Topside Room”.

6812Lugging furniture up a narrow flight of wooden stairs for just our bedrooms discouraged any furniture other than some Hippie pillows and a mattress in the front room along with 00individual’s drum kit in one corner and Marzenus’ amp and speaker in another.

Cynthia Myers, bass player in the rock band The Carrie Nations in the whacked film “Beyond The Valley Of The Dolls” and iconic natural beauty and Playmate of the Month for December 1968, adorned the hallway wall that led to the doorways of the two Dens of Iniquity – Nyawh, Ha, Ha!

The kitchen literally turned into a workshop where Marzenus built the interior components for the conversion of his stepvan into a mobile home. The fumes from the polyurethane resin he used to coat the propane-torched wood filled the house and created a nice creamy chemical smell that contributed to the “High” atmosphere.
00individual doesn’t ever remember even using the kitchen to make a meal. We were friendly with several waitresses we knew at local restaurants who would/could arrange free meals – sometimes breakfast and dinner! And then there was McDonald’s . . .

We were livin’ like total responsible Hippie Bohemians back then and the lifestyle blended perfectly with 00individual’s full time art department job – morning, noon or night, at work or on weekends – back then life was an everyday pleasurable and exciting adventure.

If 00individual would have to single out one year in his life that hit the zenith on all cylinders it would be the year he was nineteen, from February 1970 to February 1971, it was easily the best – 00individual learned so very much when he was young.

One night our good friend Krik, upon arrival back from Hawai’i, stopped by the Topside Room and brought his friend Mike D. – 00individual and Mike D. became good friends and would have manypsychedelicadventures together.  Krik also brought another good friend, Primo Abdhouli #1 Hash and he treated us to some bowls of this rare hashish. 00individual knew it was Primo Hash; as he could taste it in his brain, really.

ABDHOULIhash1“Primo Abdhouli #1 Hashish” copyright 2015 00individual  TLL

Then for a few nights straight at the Topside Room, Krik, King of the Turn Ons and always generous with his stash, kept a small circle of friends pretty hallucinogenic.
00individual remembers vividly on one night when everyone was sitting on the floor of Marxenus’
bedroom and after several rounds of tokes it felt and looked like the whole room moved and slanted to the point that everyone would slide out through the doorway – and into The Void!
The floor leveled out and we were all saved from slipping into another dimension.
Although fun, this was just the beginning of a Psychedelic Summer and Fall and Winter whereslipping through a doorway into the Void was a welcomed lifestyle.

After a couple nights of ritualistic smoking of this mind-bending Hashish 00individual became a somewhat out-of-body numbed artist at work. One day in the middle of the ongoing while-at-work cosmic hashish high hangover, 00individual got up from his drawing table to go use the darkroom and unknowingly jammed a #11 x-acto blade – that was situated at the edge of the table – right through his jeans and into his leg.
It was only when the handle hit the doorway as 00individual walked through did he utter, OW!
There stuck in his front mid-thigh was the blade handle surrounded by blood-soaked jean.

In some weird altered state 00individual attributed this incident to Abdhouli and thought that maybe he should stop the Hashish consumption and he did, for one night. And this abstinence made him realize something else – what was he thinking? This was Primo Abdouli #1 Hash! He hasn’t had any since!  He was an unenlightened dope to skip a night.
This temporary lapse of reason never happened again, 00individual’s new motto was:
Take an x-acto blade, but don’t take away a High.”

crossroads“At The Crossroads: Career Paths – Psychedelic or Corporate?” copyright 2015 00individual  TLL

At the Crossroads: Once in a Lifetime, Once in History Opportunity!

Soon after the Primo Hash Marathon, 00individual and Marzenus had one last Bikers on LSD Adventure, (Mind-Blower #4) before 00individual came to a major crossroads in his life: he was being groomed to replace the “temporary” Art Director. This was a great opportunity at such a young age and would have surely set his career on the fast-track for advancement into Art Director positions all the way up to Madison Avenue and possibly with his own agency – and he knew he could handle it.

But also at this crossroads was the once in a lifetime and once in history opportunity to fully and freely enjoy the truly amazing and exciting times he was living.
This was big – a decision about his future – and not just about a career decision, but bigger, a life decision. Being a true artist means having vision, so, coupled with being a free-spirit 00individual wisely chose to quit his job and hit the road of the unknown, an unknown that surely held exciting and historic times – and it did.

Marzenus had finished his stepvan conversion into a mobile home and was ready to hit the road. This dove-tailed with 00individual’s plans so they relinquished the Topside Room and parted ways only to join up again a few months later for a wild and crazy Hippie road trip.
00individual left his job with around seven hundred dollars in the bank and lived off of it wisely
, investing in drugs and marijuana and living lean and out of his suitcase for a year  – yes, off of only seven hundred dollars – you could do that back then  – and he literally had the time of his life!

The point is, Primo Abdhouli #1 Hashish really “Krik-started” 00individual’s decision to give his two week notice and begin his chosen path of High Adventure, Psychedelic Trips, Hippie Road Trips, Supernatural Excursions, Symbiotic Communication with all Life-forms, Soul Searching, Classic Concerts, and a whole lotta Love, Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll!

But above all of that there was the actual feeling of being real, of being 00individual with no restrictions and no responsibilities other than to stay alive, mentally thrive, have fun and experience the high point of Rock ‘n’ Roll and Cultural History.
Who of us were given that rare opportunity? Not a two week vacation to reconnect with oneself; but a year’s worth of concentrated select beneficial free-spirited experiences during the Epoch of Pop Culture and Rock ‘n’ Roll that ultimately triggered the beginning of an entire lifetime lifestyle.

00individual thanks all Gods responsible for allowing the perfect lifetime period
on the Earth Plane’s History for his soul to experience.

00individual speaks Tribal Truth.

1970s Historic & Classic Rock Albums  ’70 – ’71

In addition to all of the epic albums prior to 1970,
here’s what 00individual at nineteen and Rockers everywhere were listening to
– all released within one year – February 1970 to February 1971!

MOONDANCE – February 28, 1970

March 11, 1970
CSNY Deja Vu

BAND OF GYPSYS – March 25, 1970

April 17, 1970


the WHO
LIVE AT LEEDS – May 16, 1970


IN ROCK – June 3, 1970


HUMBLE PIE – July 1970

THE LAST PUFF – July 1970

ABRAXAS – September 1970

September 19, 1970

IDLEWILD SOUTH – – September 23, 1970
The Allman Brothers Band, 1970, Idlewild South - Front (1)

October 1970

LED ZEPPELIN III – October 5, 1970


ATOM HEART MOTHER – October 10, 1970

October 30, 1970

November 4, 1970

November 1970

November 1970

#5 – November 1970

GREATEST HITS – November 21, 1970

THE END OF THE GAME – December 1970

LOOKING ON – December 1970




EMERSON, LAKE & PALMER – January 1, 1971

LOVE IT TO DEATH – January 12, 1971

ZZ TOP’S FIRST ALBUM – January 16, 1971


February 22, 1971



Fabulous Forum – 04-26-1970
(First Concert Date “Cry of Love” Tour – Last Forum Concert)


the WHO
Anaheim Stadium – 06-14-1970
(Leeds/Tommy – Best WHO Concert – Ever!)


(World-Class Battle of the Bands!)
Fabulous Forum – 07-22-1970


Fillmore West – 12-04-1970
(A Serendipitous Trippy Personal Favorite)



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Back in the early 1970s 00individual had three artist / head / friends that would stop by and drop acid and play chess, two to a team with no talking or communicating with your partner other than psychically.

First they would drop acid, smoke a ceremonial joint while listening to a righteous album track or two and when they were all ready they would lay out the Chess Board.

Then they would set up the Chess Pieces.

Once the sounds from 00individual’s Sansui QR-4500 Quadraphonic Receiver/Power Station with 4 Altec Lansing speakers and a Teac 2340 Simul-Sync 4 Channel Open Reel to Reel Quad Tape Deck system played his choice custom recorded Quadraphonic music
they would begin their Cosmic Game of Chess.

Playing Chess on LSD was always a deep trip; as trying to anticipate your opponents’ plans, ploys and strategies and his partner’s, as well as trying to formulate offensive and defensive plans, ploys and strategies with your own partner under normal conditions is pretty heady – on psychedelics it was a real test of their “Psychedelic Ability”!

Concentration was key – or one might lose perspective.


Sometimes things could get really hallucinogenic,

. . . but mostly it was an intense but really fun way to trip on LSD.

They were very serious about their Psychedelic Chess and surely advanced their brain cell power while frying it at the same time.

They all wuz Psychedelic Kidz!

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(Transcribed verbatim below.)

“Original ’70s experimental psychedelic short story typewritten while on LSD”
copyright 1974/2015 00individual  TLL

On a nice Saturday afternoon one of the aforementioned fellow LSD Chess Player/Adventurers and 00individual decided to skip chess and try something new. They decided to drop acid and write an experimental short story whereby one would write a line or two then pass the typewriter to the other to write a line or two, and so on.

They never knew where the story was going or how it would end – but even though they were high on Lysergic Acid Diethylamide – the creativity was within them and the psychedelic energy flow took hold.

The creative process was actually very revealing in the fact that the story has a plot, deep meaning, humor, conflict, resolution and an ending that surprised them both!

If you choose to stick with it, there’s a payoff and remember they didn’t discuss the progression – that would’ve spoiled the fun – they just wrote what they felt was right divined by the last entry and passed the typewriter back. Fun times!

So, dial your Mind-Machine back to the euphoric early ’70s, and enjoy this Image-Rich, Experimental, Psychedelic, Free-Form, Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll Vampiric Tale involving
God, Lucifer and Manual the Gardner.

(Transcribed verbatim below from the original typewritten above.)

The Legend of Manual’s Labor
John Good and 00individual

   Manual the gardener slipped his mutated member in her quivering quim….theirs was the joy of the crusty fetid death lover……..agony, joy….and the pomp and circumcise of life.
Throughout the time and space of his pathetic existence on this bizarre and brutal sphere in the barbaric times of the post-mutant age, his quest for the inebriated phosphorous soldier of the fourth order of the purple nuzz- nuzz, left him in a rather slobbery state.
Poor pathetic Manual could barely grasp at what was reality, what with crusty quims and all. Lord Lucifer! Why do you forsake me now?….when all but the memories of an amnesia-dominated past have beckoned me with an elusive hand, inviting and enticing me to rise. I shall rise, I shall….tomorrow I shall go to the priest of the one they used to call Christ. If I can gain his confidence and his magic perhaps the emergence of a pseudo-spiritual redeemer will render the apathetic doldrums to a state of total recall.
Its so hard and getting worse daily. As my brain rots ever so routinely, it is hard for me to keep it all together….fuzzy-wuzzys and nuzzy-nuzzys….I will no longer honor my false brazen God. He shall have no more of my life giving blood, but be the unwilling donor of sacrifice over and over again for the fair and virginal flower of the tainted forest of eternity. Rainbow spider webs….autumn leaves….lustful fall….what does it all mean?
The esscense goo that they call me is no more than a manic struggle between two blood-lusting souls searching for sanity.
Along with the equally demanding urges of the eye…the optical telescope of non-reality. The conflict, the pull, the never-ending decision of whether that today is really tomorrow yesterday.
Yes, yes the urge is to acknowledge this as real, yet, yet, how can this whore of carnal delight be anymore than that delectable taste of her love goo.
The thought of approaching this madness, this conflicting bridge of threadbare thoughts leaves me no way out but that of temporary reconciliation with my inner God. Yet who is that forsaking bastard? My friend, My foe?…..
I believe I shall now go about thine destruction. Thine destruction, let me count the ways: whether it be nobler to drain the life giving blood in second to eternity lapses or send my soul-self into oblivion via a celestial narcotic drug,….that sweet release.
I have reached my decision…not an easy one for sure. It’s a delight though to suck her life thrusting juices even if it does mean her demise. The thought spirals into an intense overbearing climactic explosion of every molecule in me as the last drop is suckled from the now non-existent whore of carnal delight…..that is me.


Yeah, that ending still gets 00individual – it blew both of their minds when they read it.

It’s trippy the way that it came together, once again, no discussion took place, just typewriting . . .
. . . and while on the subject of typewriting – 00individual is amazed; after a close look at the original, there appears to be only about a half dozen white-out corrections! This is the original, the only copy – and with less than six corrections?
Wow, apparently we were very efficient on acid – 00individual is impressed with his own young Acid-Head self and with the same for fellow Tripper John Good.


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00individual early 70sEarly 1970s photo of 00individual with authentic antique ceramic tube bowl Opium pipe copyright 1972 00individual TLL
(Pipe in photo was for a blend of Tobacco and Opium – now that’s Old World Leisure.)

MIND-BLOWER #25 – early-to-mid 1970s

Opium was a rarity among all Dealers as most Opium was processed into the much less bulky and more potent Heroin and thus a more valuable commodity. So, Opium, at least in 00individual’s Tribal gatherings was rare, and in most cases reserved for special occasions.

Here’s what 00individual remembers from smoking Opium: A typical hit can be as lung-expanding as high-grade Hashish, so he took long controlled inhalations that matched the bubbling Tar Opium in the bowl of a long-stemmed pipe.
He then held his hit as long as possible to allow its essence to seep into his brain. As he slowly exhaled the bluish-tinged billowed wisps of smoke he French-inhaled to retain the dank, rich taste of the earth – dense, ancient, knowing.
At his point he felt that his brain could taste the Opium. Then a radiating sensation throughout his body soothed his soul and a dreamy sense of peace and love emanated from him into the surrounding environment.

And people wonder why people use drugs.

These states of consciousness through the use of opiates, psychedelics, psychotropics and other mind and body altering substances open a rare door in the brain to allow access to a wondrous state . . . that is already there.

Quick Trip: So, while on a Hippie Road Trip, 00individual with three friends named Mike, hung out in Santa Cruz (future “Lost Boys” movie site) with surfer friends there.  After a goodtime greet and tokin’ they found out that Zappa was playing at a small venue nearby in San Rafael and fortunately they were able to snag some tickets. Pepperland was like an over-sized club and they were about twenty feet from the stage. So, 00individual got to experience a serendipitous intimate night of Rock ‘n’ Roll Madness courtesy of FZ!
It was a trip, an unexpected concert experience, and a great time was had by all that night.
To further celebrate, back at the surf pad Monster Mike provided the Opium to be smoked by about six people. Only a hit or two was needed and one by one everyone passed into Dreamland – until it got down to 00individual and a Mike – and that’s all he remembers.
Except for the dreams.

thaiour“Rendition of 1970s Thai Stick with three strains rolled in hash oil tied with hemp.”

It was on the third night, or maybe second, of 00individual’s three nights in a row, front row center, Pink Floyd 1975 L.A. Sports Arena concert that he broke out some righteous Thai stick he had acquired in preparation for the rare momentous occasion.


Coming off the after-effects of the first night’s powerful hit of either White Lightning or Windowpane acid – not sure which as he had a hit or two of both Trusted Trippers stashed – it only took a few hits of dank Thai Stick to act as a catalyst to re-engage any psychedelic residue and transform it into high-intensity cannabis motivation. 00individual was psyched for another night of the Best Rock Ever: Pink Floyd. Historic!
00individual has been very fortunate throughout his life to have been provided with the ability to actually become heavily motivated from the assist of cannabis. Right On!

drugcopyArchival 1971 photo “00individual basking in the casual dealing era”

The average casual drug dealer was a sociable guy, not addicted, decently street-smart, a mini-entrepreneur and a Lover of Sex, Drugs and Rock ‘n’ Roll – like 00individual.

Many Hippies and Counter-Culturists were part-time dealers by circumstance. If you could pony-up money enough for a pound of Marijuana you could deal ten dollar “lids”, make your investment money back plus a little extra and have a nice stash of “free” weed!
This sensible pattern continued on but it became a little dicey with powders (Mescaline, Cocaine, Heroin) because even if weighed out – it was all cut from its pure state; to what degree was the determining factor.
So it came down to reliable dealers who always had the best quality – just like with any business transaction; those who can be trusted to deliver the goods, succeed.

There were times when 00individual found himself in questionable situations that took on an edgy atmosphere, but that was rare as it was usually business between “friends”, in the broad sense – as long as everyone was straight it all moved smoothly.

00individual wants to emphasize that he was at a very common level that was fairly representative of the average, or a little above average, participant in all that the Culture had to offer.
These True Psychedelic Trips are just individual samples of the universal scary fun that was experienced by those Psychonauts who embraced it all.

Fortunately, several of 00individual’s close friends dealt deeper than he did and supplied excellent drugs so 00individual could basically cherry-pick his drug purchases large and small, and never had any Mescaline or LSD that he sold be less than excellent.

00individual never overdosed or became addicted or suffered any ill effects throughout all of his drug and psychedelic experiences. He has however throughout his history of experiences been burned on a couple deals, that were eventually rectified, and succumbed to a dose or two of Mescaline that were cut with strychnine and resulted in wicked stomach pains.

The Drug Heirachy wasn’t that involved back then, there were guys that graduated to covert light plane flight smuggling of Marijuana and later Cocaine that were soon taken over by the big guys who obtained large quantities smuggled in, then there were the main “distributor” guys who bought from them, and then those just below, the guys 00individual sometimes dealt with.
In the very end, it all filtered down to that righteous doobie or thick line of coke – or both!.

Through road trip buddy Mike D., 00individual came to know a big-time successful dealer; D.E., (Mind-Blower *9 – Cool Jazz) who literally got run out of the hippest resort at the time, Park City, Utah, for dealing “too much”.
The authorities didn’t want to arrest him as that would make him a martyr to all the rich folks and Hollywood moguls and celebrities who lived and vacationed there and who were his exclusive customers and also supporters of the City.
He’d supply Rock Stars from his beach city L.A. home base with just about anything they wanted and was the kind of guy who paid cash for a brand new four-wheel drive truck right off the showroom floor.
The Narcs were too busy in their new found fun and love of busting kids with joints – this upper level dealing went on right under their noses.

Most Dealers were actually pretty charismatic, or in some cases just characters that needed to be tolerated, but things were always generally cool as the Culture had yet to get ugly – at least not at 00individual’s “safe” level.
The safe level is the fact that he could maintain on any drug, in public, and actually be suave about it, or so he thought; or the fact that he could buy and sell small drug and Marijuana quantities with no paranoia; and the fact that what he was doing was actually social, fun, and entrepreneurial, plus it provided a service and made people happy. And although it came with a little danger – it was a cool innocent under-the-radar lifestyle to an already under-the-radar lifestyle.

Eventually, 00individual went from a casual occasional dealer to an occasional buyer. And right there is an example that the times had peaked.
By ’73 the vibe was waning, by ’75 it was in its final glorious death throes. By the end of the decade it was as if the ’60s and ’70s were just a memory of the feelings of a life in a legendary magickal land that never really existed.

But it did, and this site is proof. Dig it. Groovy.






4 comments on “TRUE PSYCHEDELIC TRIPS 1960s -1970s

  1. I am absolutely in awe of your stories !
    What wonderful adventures you had back when it wasn’t a federal offense to actually HAVE adventures such as the ones you and your friends experienced !
    You seriously need to write a book with these stories !
    I loved them all !
    *Do you or anyone you know , have any pictures of the WHO concert you attended in 1970?
    I am obsessed with The Who and cant get enough of them or Petes music.
    Keep Truckin and Do It To It !

    • Thank you for your high level of appreciation!
      Yes, they were rare times indeed and I’m making the effort to relate as best I can of the best of those days.
      Sorry, I rarely took a camera to a concert, neither did my friends, we weren’t thinking about posterity we were all “living for the moment” and really didn’t consider cameras – they made you a “spectator” rather than a participator.
      Again, thanks for your praise and interest!
      Peace, Brother.

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