Reading Magnifico's journal

I don't really know why I torture myself like this.
I've never liked the concept of hallucinogenic drugs (or, for that matter, needles. . . like I'd fscking trust a drug that I can only use by jamming a little piece of metal into myself), because, frankly, I don't like the idea that my perception is beyond my control.
I don't know why I torture myself with sleep deprivation, except that I enjoy the brief euphoric period, during which I begin, as any person would, to dream while I am still awake. It's magnificent.
A combination of tea, Tiger Balm, a leather chair, and sleep deprivation creates a level of sensory overload and a kinesthetic serendipity.
A stream-of-consciousness dream, a thought process of sight and sound, smell and flavor. It's an astounding breakthrough of consciousness, and I love it because I recognize that I'll soon hate myself for it. My weakness, my love, my muse.
A fleeting dervish of color flits across my peripheral vision, briefly giving me a taste of what is to come. A vortex of Red Bull and stomach aches, a combination of joy and pain that I can't help loving.

I don't really know why I torture myself like this.
But I love it.

Thbbbbt

This post was edited by Magnifico on Feb 09, 2004.