Hour rule 

"Sneaky Pete" (trappster) 06/30/2015 at 02:38 • Filed to: None

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Sweet truck, bruh.

Jedidiah > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 03:05

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Baeromez > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 03:08

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If bored, read this:

!!! UNKNOWN CONTENT TYPE !!!

Once upon a time on New Year’s Eve I dropped acid, mushrooms, ketamine, MDMA, sniffed a bit of cocaine, drank, and smoked weed. Later I smoked DMT from a 2 ft bong on the beach as the sun began to peek over the horizon of the Atlantic Ocean. I inhaled deeply twice and handed the apparatus to my compatriot. My body was lost as it dissolved into the sand. My ego sensed its impending demise and bowed out auspiciously. Hence, my mind was ripped ungracefully from its carbon-based corporeality and lofted rapidly into the intangible geometry of a higher plane of being.

The residents of this place, whom I had sought out several times before under the pretense of guidance and exploration, seemed harried by my visit and sought only to flee from my presence. Where before they had welcomed me warmly with open fractals, on this trip they offered only admonition and a harsh rebuking. They left me. I was alone; more alone than a man drifting outside the galaxy. I was drifting outside of reality. In this state of utter nothingness, I felt at first a deep and foreboding sense of despair. This melancholy morphed swiftly into an upwelling of panic, and I fought, as I thought I should, to focus the tiny reserves of my sense of self on shifting that anxiety before it could consummate the imminent hysteria. I embraced the only other emotion present, snatching and gripping hold of the loneliness like a skydiver grabbing the tail of a doomed plane spiraling into the abysmal black waters below.

It worked. I found myself flooded with a tide of calm bordering on tranquility. I was alone, but I was everything, and if I was everything, then the universe was my sandbox. As the supreme architect of my personal reality, I had become God. I had become Satan. I had no voice with which to laugh, but I laughed maniacally nonetheless. The off-put occupants of the netherworld were not mad at me. They were afraid of me. I was real. They were energy, locked in a space which lacked matter, while I was free to roam between the two. Free to bring into being that which I deemed fit, as are all material beings. After all, every man-made item by definition existed only in the ether of the mind before its material conception. I could create, where they could only dream, and in this power lay even the keys to the portal between worlds, for were not the substances which facilitated this inter-dimensional travel compounded by man? The beings here were powerless to intervene in reality without a material existence through which to conduct their thoughts. They were powerless to even communicate with beings outside their domain, whereas I was the gatekeeper of their very existence. Perhaps there were lessons to be learned from the ether-beings, surely God learns from the human experiment, but they were nothing without me. Intrinsically, I was their creator.

At the summit of comprehension, the ether became untenable. Just as I began to actualize my enlightened state, I felt the pull of gravity start to gently tug at my sleeve. My previously desultory form reemerged from the sand, and I was once again among the conscious matter. Salt air filled my lungs. Granules of pulverized calcium and silicate slid between my toes. I was whole again, perhaps more so than to begin with. The sun was clear of the ocean by now, and my trip companions had become worried by my prolonged departure. We gathered ourselves and returned from whence we had come, elevated and endowed.

I wanted to end this by saying that ‘Nothing is beyond my experience.’ However, nothingness itself is right alongside everything and anything, lying well within my reach. I leave you instead with a more empowering thought:

My experience is boundless.

pip bip - choose Corrour > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 04:15

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kill it with fire!

ptak appreciates old racecars > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 06:23

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Change the wheels and tires and I’d rock it.

RutRut > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 07:38

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As a proud owner of a brodozer those wheels even disgust me. I have my 20’s wrapped in 35’s and will probably go to 37’s this winter, I don’t get the whole trend of big rim, small tire on trucks lately.

spanfucker retire bitch > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 07:39

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You know, I’ve not tasted my own vomit in quite a while. Thanks for this.

Smallbear wants a modern Syclone, local Maple Leafs spammer > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 07:43

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Hippo in high heels. And I don’t usually have issues with lift.

450X_FTW > Sneaky Pete 06/30/2015 at 08:30

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There really needs to be laws against things this hideous