Have you guys ever heard of Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds? In terms of psychedelics I wouldn’t recommend them. On the gradient scale from discomfort to otherworldly bliss they skew wildly towards the former; your platter is piled high with twin helpings of purge and (if you’re lucky) only a minuscule, mostly-tasteless garnish of surreal, clanking insight. To put it simply: there’s a reason you can buy them legally at your local garden supply store.
We’ve all been there though right? A blank-slate weekend with itchy thoughts, desperate for some kind of stimulation. Your mainstays are all-but depleted with no one in sight to replenish their stores. It’s in these moments the mind gets desperate. “Oh, you read about these on the internet? You heard it could-do-something-or-other? Yeah man, whatever, I’m down.”
A bored young brain can be a strange and dangerous thing.
Anyways, after a heavy barbecue dinner, a few drinks and some futile resin hits we swallowed them down. Numerous trustworthy warnings, received in hypertext, were casually disregarded; apparently they were supposed to be soaked overnight to remove some noxious husk. Too late, it’s 11pm on a clear, perfect Saturday; we’ll take our chances. “Let’s go.”
Hours pass. Nothing. Time for bed; we’re getting sleepy, unaware that this is part of the ramp up. “I’ll take the couch dude, good night, see you in the morning.”
I’m not sure when the ‘thrumming’ started but it probably kicked-off during R.E.M. sleep. Though in-reality absolutely still, my limbs were buzzy and shaking. It was as if my tendons were lengthening, the attached muscles dangling freely from stringy bones like swaying wind chimes before a late-summer thunderstorm.
And where was the warmth going? Why was it traveling to my core in thick palpable waves? Thrum-rum-rum-um, thrum-rum-rum-um, thrum-rum-rum-um. It was pleasant but…not. I couldn’t decide. Was I dreaming?
I opened my eyes and the opposite wall was alive with blinks and flashes. Is this the trip? Yes, but not like I was thinking, the fevered visuals on display came not from my mind but a more pedestrian source: the cheap display of an all-in-one stereo perched high on the shelf behind me. There was no sound coming from the speakers but I could hear it all the same, Thrum-rum-rum-um, thrum-rum-rum-um, thrum-rum-rum-um.
It moved in concert with my jangled limbs, carrying heat down my shoulders and up my hips to meet in the center of my gut. It felt wonderful for about a minute and then I realized what was happening: my body was trying to tell me that I was going to vomit. Like now. In someone else’s house. I needed to make a break for it.
Lying on the cool bathroom floor felt fantastic and I stayed there for hours. It wasn’t just the idle stereo’s flickering slot-machine demo mode that could be heard but all sources of light. In here however, the gentle thrum was gone, it’s barely-audible throb replaced by a constant and abrasive owl’s screech from the bright spherical bulbs above the vanity.
It was around this time that I said aloud, “Morning…I want it to be morning now.”
The flavors in the attached remind me a bit of that night though, thankfully, sans anxious nausea. This is one of those videos you need headphones on in a dark-room to fully appreciate. The layers of tight, aggressive synths and staccato vocals from new-on-the-scene Raveyards coalesce into an aggressive cacophony while the whacked-out dark, just-a-bit unsettling visuals (as directed by Brussels-based Charles De Meyer) ramp up accordingly til it all culminates in a bizarre crescendo.
It’s so dope, you guys; an instant classic. Enjoy!