Ever since opening myself up and taking a good look, I’ve been seeing myself a whole lot more. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing, I don’t know. I could be changing myself, as I’ve always wanted to do, but I know it usually hasn’t worked out in the past. Then again, I’ve spent a fair share of my time trying to be the ‘real me’, and that didn’t work out too well either.

Right now, my days are way more introverted than they should be.  I spend an abnormal amount of my time thinking about myself in different aspects over the course of a day.  The points I bring up about myself and the lengths I go to organize them make me deal with life on a much more direct level.  The realizations I’ve come to and the truths I’ve had to face have force me to live a thousand lives faster than when this started and will have many thousand more before my death.  It’s an addiction I’m right in the middle of, but as long as it’s there, I might as well have some fun telling you a story or two about it.
 

On the night of July 4, 1998, I had an experience sort of like the ones in the past.. This one was different though; aimed more towards a connoisseur of the mind. Its basis was that it would show me a mental ‘dictionary’ of my mind and where my experiences over the years ranked in this index, prioritized on how truthful and representative they were. The images that cued the most truth or relayed the purest emotion were placed on the bottom, and the more trivial and half-assed bullshit was more towards the top (imagine it like a long vase with a really skinny neck, standing straight up, trying to let out wet sand).  It’s sort of like taking a cross section of a source, one level at a time, increasing as the trip wears off.  The bottom levels scanned by, reading mostly nothing but colorized static (the things I have yet to discover about myself) as well as the holes and pits (which represent the things I’ve opened up for myself by means of introspection, humor, or anything else). The pits I run across take me to that atmosphere the scenario was imbedded from.  As I made my way up, the colorized static quickly died off as my observation of this index took more civilized forms, such as a human dynasty lurking its way through evolution, or a love playing itself through, or a plot cycle drawing a full arc. There are as many of these potentials as there are stars in the sky, as carl sagan would say.. like sand on the beach.

As it stand right now these following paragraphs are non-chronological and prolly won’t ever be organized unless I do some DEEP remembering about it.
 

On my way up I could see many things, most of which described the ever-present idea of there being many smarter beings inside me that are being held back by my conscious mediocrity.  Imagine a dark blue, lit warehouse, with many workers scurrying about inside, each with their own desks and assignments, sort of like a typical office workforce. Dangling from the ceiling and attached to the wall at about a 45 degree angle is somewhat of a movie projector screen; this is what the workforce sees as their end product (my consciousness) and in return my desire to communicate with them (displayed as a screen I project and they view, with often inferior messages). I can’t say how much my commands mean to them, but I could tell from their point of view that they saw my motives as very amateur and best left to them. I could see them all look up to the screen once, as if it was an order barked to them. An image of a man I’d seen in a few movies (he starred as the weak-willed husband in fargo)  came on the screen abruptly, and said something to the effect of  “ok, now next time, we’re going to see.. when the.. ch .. ..a….” – after that the man stared blankly at the screen for a few moments and eventually the projection image was cut, and the workers went back on with their business. this sort of thing happens often with the domain of push/shove between conscious and unconscious, and the impression that i got was that it was something they'd grown quite used to over the years. everybody has this; some are worse off than others. i can name a few right now that fall in pretty nicely. =]

this, like many others, lay flat upon its conclusion like a game compared to the life which it represents. no matter how much i would be incontact with whatever stimulus was in contact with me, at the end of when i would have to rise up, that case would simply cease to exist as a reality and would only thereafter be a figment of the imagination of which i was procuring from a higher layer. the key features of sequences like the preceding paragraph are usually kept (although details are lost).  the warehouse design drifted away into what looked like a still photograph of that scene, matted with a transparency sheet given to project at an overhead for a business meeting, preluding into another segment which i've forgotten.
 

In this vase of consciousness, I could see the many rewirings that I’d laid out for myself over the years. These rewirings as I call them are the best term I could think of, and it’s how they are imagined in my mind: I take a response that I don’t like and add a comment to it of what I think it should be. Over the course of the next few times that same environment triggers that synapse, the new condition is brought up along with the reaction, and the rewiring is established. I was going to say some of these are established over time and some of them die off (due to hatred, frustration, or anything else that disemploys a re-routing) but I can’t be sure only due to the fact that I wouldn’t really know if something was cut off, because I can’t track all of my emotions.

As I looked farther up this model, I could see that the higher (recent) rewirings had grown in complexity – they now seemed as traps to the forces working from underneath – the more I have recently begun to clue in all this underworking, the more I have been trying to comprehend the true meaning of myself and therefore been sealing up my philosophies with tighter and tighter algorithms to prevent the truth (or fear of rebuttal) from coming forward. Trips of backwards thought were a common ploy here, I could see them in 3d. (leet)

I always have these nice visions in my trips that I see taking form in some kind of book or movie or something like that.. they’re the kinds of figments that I’ve seen affect me over the years, and I know they’re great pieces of fiction that would fit really well if I ever took the time to write them out with the detail I live them in. this time, one thing I can remember relatively clearly was the visualization of something I wrote before in one of my zens, but now seen from the inside.  From zen Y, I quote myself talking about how one day we as people would begin to understand so much about the brain that we sould start to narrow it down into sectors and numbered synapses, noting how the words “take neuron 163, cross it with 167B, push past the third blocker, let it fall back halfway, and look at yourself" would perhaps trigger a response of laughter.

As I saw this point of information in my memory on my way up my trip, like many other things just the hint of it from my conscious layer translated into a world of environmental ambience for the masses down here. (unconscious or nearly conscious stigma makes up the bulk of the sideshow material). that particular thought of neuron 167B i had given a moderate amount of thought to after it had been written, and in effect i kind of knew it would come up when i tripped again. what i saw was quaint but also sad in a way; I saw what looked like a bunch of grunt workers who had actually tunneled out a section in my mind with metal pipes and construction equipment holding back the natural living walls of my metaphorical mind. their construction efforts amounted to what looked like an open hangar door, above it stamped in large block lettering ‘NEURON 167B’. Beyond this huge industrial doorway was three blockers they had constructed and a quick turn to the left, a simple dead end of oozing pink brain matter showed the cold reality of the situation - the passage in my real mind went nowhere, but still, these people were desperate. they saw me reference what would have been some way out for them and they went for it, no matter what the odds. the work was futile from the beginning, but they knew that. Someday, i will be able to come back and open up the rest of the tunnel 167B through this new found community, i promise.
 
 

Taking more from zen Y, the definition of ‘extrapolation’ was increased not only by last night’s trip but also what I’ve been thinking about over the past month.  Extrapolation is the point where the consciousness comes in agreement (or at least shares a common bond) with the lower roots, and I know at least for me this balance never seems to last. An experience is drawn in with the lower roots until my consciousness sees the same and does its own thing with it (whatever), and at this crossover the stimulus now has to enter through the conscious interpretor (could it also come in through the lower roots? Perhaps not since I can only interact in one way, but I’ll think about that later & come back).  The conscious interactor beings with it a whole slew of toys that fuck up the interaction and pretty much ruin the experience, so for me, my feelings mainly come from the things I only haven’t picked up on yet, such as a hidden instrument in a song or a subliminal key feature of a cute person. I really hope to change back or nullify as much of this as I can. I’m trying to live as close as I can to my emotions currently, but I’ve fucked that method up in the past. =[