2009, early summer, at the baohaus front stoop, LSD: I see the skin of everything. Every part of the street scene laid out in front of me is just some bubbling bubbling bubbling held together by skin that is made up of runes that look like neon, flashing watermark on money. Some of the runes I find I already know but there are ones that I also do not. Realizing that to make anything new all you have to do is pick the right runes and sow them into a new skin and wrap it round the bubbling bubbling bubbling. SRT gives everything a consciousness and we accidentally discover phenomenology, which we haven't learned about yet. I spend a good chunk of the night writhing in pain and speaking gibberish while S holds me.

2010, cusp of spring, E.D.'s bedroom primarily, mushrooms: We emerge from freezing cold Lapland, noses dripping, and enter the forest. I find myself in a dense thicket of strings, pulled tight from sky to ground. I remove myself from our hiding place under the bed (E stays down) and stand up to the play "the harp of the universe." Barely have to move because all the strings are so close together, can't string it myself, because there are no materials for new strings. Strings are all metal and most as thick as the low notes on a piano. Later look at my face in the mirror and seen the runes again, which surprises me considering the time between, other trips, and difference in chemical composition. i am a little scared of that face.

2011, first half of winter, my seeming gigantic bed, marijuana: feeling like the back of my head has been blown out and i am leaking into everything else (when i see something real good this is how i want to feel - like the boundaries of my skin do not exist and i can slip into the thing i have seen). listening to philip glass, feeling like i might easily be dying because i am being yanked so vigorously around by the music. remember the harp, see again the harp, won't just play the harp with my hands this time, but my whole body. choked and probably gurgling. did i cry? pass out from exhaustion in the wee hours of the morning. i checked the clock.

Which is to say, I agree with Grotowski on the use of research as an appropriate word to apply to theatre. He says they find what is already there and merely give it form. I'm into that. The other stuff (punishing asceticism, disgust for electicism, disdain for other forms, lack of intersectionality, paternalism)...not so much?