Albert Hofmann, the Swiss bicyclist cum chemical psychotropic mind bender, was a hero of mine. I like chemistry for its consistency, and love drugs for their freedom from same.
Albert Hofmann, the Swiss bicyclist cum chemical psychotropic mind bender, was a hero of mine. I like chemistry for its consistency, and love drugs for their freedom from same. LSD, Hofmann’s greatest contribution, is the realest of deals. It turned getting high into a romantic quest. Better living through chemistry… the holy of holies.
Oh a lot of weak knees complain of bad trips, but LSD makes one feel like Achilles, the Greek hero, immortal except for that one override button that if you aren’t careful could flush whole earth-shaking reveries down a black hole.
It’s a real man’s drug, and you’d better have your psychic jock strap at the ready, cuz once you turn it on, there is no turning back. The one rule of tripping on LSD is you absolutely cannot want it to be over before it is ready to let you go. It won’t happen.
You could easily find yourself with the ability to run up walls, but in a split second you might be wandering junior high school halls nude, screaming about ants or bats. You have to be on top of it and embrace it, or you will burn, and that’s why it gets a bad rap. People get distracted. If you are gonna pay the price, you’d better be ready to ride the ride. Hofmann knew that, and that’s why he embraced nature. The permanence keeps you grounded. Going to rodeo or watching TV are bad ideas. Get on a bike, like Hofmann did, and ride the goddamn ride.
When LSD was good it was way gooder then mushrooms and made ecstasy look like Ritalin for kids. Like drinking for 70 straight hours? Drop a hit of acid and leave your organizer at home. Comparisons between coke or speed? Forget it. Like powder in the wind compared to the good times coaxed out of a barrel or sheet of a blotter, or when you really felt the need, a drop of liquid LSD straight in the eyeball.
I know way more losers who’ lost it on other more pedestrian drugs than were ever damaged by LSD. It’s funny that bad trip imagery is filled with crawling critters, which is now a reality TV go-to. Big Whoop on the fear factor. Epinephrine-OD’ing Jihadists are what quake me these days. And I really I believe a Class 2A high school football team from Alabama goofing on a couple thousand micrograms could make quick work of some opium smoking Jihadis. Talk about holy mother fucking wars.
I want to thank Dr. Hofmann for his contribution to laugh lines and suggest we take Bicycle Day to the mainstream. In honor of that first trip he spent pedalin’ around Basel blasted out his gourd, we should all spend every April 19th riding around on bikes completely carefree. You don’t have to be on LSD, as it is almost impossible to find these days, but a least ride around with no hands on the handlebars and giggle. And coast, by all means, coast on your bicycle. To all you fixed-gear types: Coasting is not a crime and LSD is not a criminal.