Stoned Synopsis

I feel the need to do something really constructive. Like paint the inside of my nostrils. Or learning how to blow glass so I can make some killer marijuana paraphenelia. Or going on a walk and picking blackberries, just so I can take my fruits and mash them to liquid and pretend that it's make-up. Cover my eyes. Cover my lips. Dot them on my cheeks. Or making a yellow submarine out of paper mache. And hanging to my ceiling from fishing line. And copy and paste it out of thin air and send the duplicate to Lauren Taylor in Chicago. Or taking my computer's mouse and hot-glueing it to the wall. (How the fuck do you spell glue with 'ing' on the end.) Or going on myspace and completely re-doing my profile. Turn it upside down. Wear it on my sweater. And turn it inside out. Or discovering the first real alien that steps foot onto our planet Earth. Or continue to get really stoned and just completely ramble on with roses patched to my feet. I feel so beautiful. Sun's rays are beautiful. People are beautiful. Love is beautiful. Love is love. All you need is love. I want to watch I Am Sam. Yeah.

 

I guess no one cares about stoned synopsi.

 

Oh, and my cat is purring on my tattooed foot and I'm listening to Steppenwolf's "Magic Carpet Ride" on the radio. Always reminds me of that car commercial and Apollo 13, the movie. Anyways. I want to dance. And blow spit bubbles. Could it be that I've smoked myself retarded, lol? Nah, I'm sharper than Vermont cheddar cheese. And smarter than ALL the inbred rednecks in Alabama. AND I'm an extreme intellectualist. Love me some intellectual intercourse while stoned.

 

I read it all.... Pretty interesting how the mind works. You are beautiful and I think you should pick those blackberries and mash em up indian war-paint style.

 

I'm beautiful? Not in that signature of mine. I'm stuffing my beloved face with bagels. But I do have adorn the thanks for the wonderful Mrs. Mary Jane for that bit of overwhelming sense. Lol. Oh, and I think I will mash those blackberries up. And pretend like I'm an indian and whoop and hollar in my backyard wearing a faux doe-skin dress and put feathers in my hair and smoke from a peace pipe. And then go inside and watch Pocahantas.

 

Heres an intellectual peanut butter sandwhich for ya..


Imagine that God exists, and that God is a cosmic consciousness, a cosmic intelligence, if you will.
And that we and our current universe are but a mere thought in the mind of this vast intelligence..
Would physics then be the physical manifestation of Gods thoughts?

 

I love peanut butter sandwiches. Especially if the sandwich is grilled like cheese. Hmm... Well, Physics isn't always physical. Regardless of its name, lol. If this theory is not disregarded and triumphed as being true, then wouldn't God/Higher Power have to be tangible for this to work? And we would be stuck inside of a mystical and cosmic movie reel of ameoba-like jelly, right? Because God would ginormous and we would be the cells in his body... but what if it's triumphed as truth, but rather as faith... Can this be an accurate statement to make and further pose forward, then? Because in Philosophy, I learned that truth and faith are incompatible. Meaning that Faith is not true. Faith is blindly believing in something, so much that it's true to you or any person for that matter. Then Truth is a highly misconcepted term. It'll be completely impossible to disect "truth" in it's raw form.

 

mmm amoeba like jelly on a peanut butter sammish. hope the amoeba tastes like raspberry

 

Nope. Peaches. Ohmygod, we're going to be eaten! (In light of your theory )

 

lmfao oh no thats not my theory thats just something i got to thinking about one day and it stuck with me

 

paint the inside of your nostrils, i think you should go thru on this one

 

I'm high and the warpaint idea is just too cool, I've done it before with random berries, I wish I had pics.

 

Sometimes, I get the urge to take off my clothes, when I'm high.

I think everyone gets that urge.

 

Clearly, you've never seen this film documenting the true story of late, great Anna Nicole.

 

:lol:

 

dude if you were in texas you would be my best friend

 

dude SEND THAT SHIT TO ME!
tee hee. i love your ramblings.

 

I think I will. I'll probably die of asphyxiation from the paint.

 

War paint is always cool.

Except since we're peaceniks.

Would it be called "Peace paint"...?

Hmm... seems to be a re-occuring theme, eh?

 

And to dance naked.

It's only natural, after all.

The body is beautiful.