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entries tagged “weekly”

British Summer Time GMT+1

Week 30 of 2023

-- sorry this is so late, I had no internet until now --

The Lavamais self-service laundry room is a peaceful public space. I’m alone here right now, with nothing but the sound of machine #1 gently spinning. I’m washing a few dresses, a skirt and a t-shirt so that I might have clean clothes for a few more days of Portugal. Yesterday there was a gentleman here who’d had his bag stolen. The bag contained his ID, his wallet, and his car keys. He’s trapped in Castelo Branco until his car company can send him a new set of keys. Two days after Boom everyone in Castelo Branco town centre is a victim of something, suffering some inconvenience or another. They’re all smiling, they’re all helping each other.

A ver.

On Monday I remember dancing on Funky Beach with Ciara and my steward 🌩️ . Ciara’d been like “there’s no dance floor?” And then they started dancing and then there was a dance floor. They were happy and I went to the lake and got wet. I was in a daze drying off in the sun and a nice stranger came up and gave me a very loving hug. The beach looks like the ocean at Funky Beach.

To the left of us: a rocky, sharp, hostile forest. To the right of us: a sharp, rocky, harsh woodland. Behind us: a sandy, rock-filled hill of hostile ground and tents and trees (and a bar). To our front: 10 meters of steep silver sand before a bright blue lake. The sun baring down on us, but gentler than the day before. The light had a yellow-white quality.

Spent a lovely time by a bush near Central Plaza later, sharing sparkly moments with Polly. Sometimes it feels that there are real dimensional boundaries here because I only meet certain people alone, and others only when I’m with people I’ve met them with before. Maybe it has something to do with all those archways they have scattered around.

Sometimes there will be a ripple of whoops and cheers that will make its way all around the lake. It ripples out in all directions from a single point like dropping a pebble in the water. I hoped I’d see the start of one, but I was even luckier, I got to be part of the start of one. We held hands in a circle and honked like geese. That was joyous, we were glittering, the sun was bright and the sand was soft and the air was clean.

After a large spoon of ketamine, I walked out into the water and summoned Babalon. I dipped my head under the water and got some in my left ear and was asymmetrical for a day.

At the dance temple Katya felt uncertain. “I don’t know what to do, there are so many options. Do I go with them? Do I go with you?” At this very moment a large white parasol took her by the face and dragged her backwards 3 or 4 steps. A message from god to go with the flow and let herself be carried away. In reality the umbrella was in the hand of a toned hippy, but in my memory it is like a cartoon and the thing flies over and carries her away into the sky on the wind.

I’ve just moved my clothes to the dry cycle here in this laundromat. It’ll be another 14 mins then I’ll pack back up and limp shoeless to the bus station where I’ll hope to find they have a bus to Lisbon on a Sunday. But if they don’t, I will be OK. There’s another customer here cleaning up the laundromat with a brush and pan just because otherwise how will it stay clean. I love it here. Maybe I don’t want there to be a bus.

Thanks for being with me, talking with me, spending all that time with me. It was so much fun, I even enjoyed the hard parts, and I wouldn’t have survived the festival without you. Sorry if I made it harder than it should be sometimes, I’m still learning too.

On the last day of the festival, on the final night, during the final show at the main stage I saw that old out-of-time hippy again. Bright white hair, looking like a merry prankster. I asked him “oh, do you have any of that acid to sell?” he said “fuck selling!” And then gestured at me to open my mouth. I opened my mouth. He took out his dropper. I was expecting a droplet.

—You see, I’d met him a week ago, first day of the festival. He’d told me “if any of your friends want to buy acid, tell them about me and let them know I have the good stuff” before dropping a little droplet on my hand so I could lick it off. “I’m very sensitive to psychedelics” I’d told him. “Well, this is the good stuff,” he’d said—

I opened my mouth. He took out his dropper. I was expecting another droplet. He squeezes that dropper like he’s drying out a cloth. There is liquid acid pouring down my lips. Rolling around my mouth. Even if I’d spat it out it would still be more acid than I’ve ever taken. Or, I think, that anyone has ever taken since 1967 at a Grateful Dead concert. I promptly sunk into the sand. The colors, the chromatic aberrations, the light, the triangles, the most beautiful sunset, the love, the company of people I have come to love and trust so quickly… then it became impossible to move my limbs, I stepped dimension by dimension away further and further away until I was completely disconnected from my body, my mind. We ran, holding hands, dancing through the festival. I don’t know how much of it happened. The spinning, the lagoon, then I fell into the sand and could not move. Everyone wanted to move on to the next place, but I couldn’t operate my limbs or form a sentence. I desperately did not want to be a burden, to hold them back from the things they wanted, so I worked so hard to find any words that could help. I chose “I’m happy” because I thought that would let them be free and I would not be holding them back anymore. “I’m happy” “I’m happy” “I’m happy” that was all I said, and I smiled like “:)”. And they left me in the sand, and I was happy. And I delved into it, into the into of it. I travelled through space and time, mostly time. I was the beginning of the universe. I was a ball of light, I was a rectangular infinite form and then shapeless infinite formless. I was god. A monument, a mountain, a massive triangular physical formation grew out from underneath me. I found that I could choose any life I wanted, because I was telling this story of my life to somebody else. In my mind I am always telling a story, but to whom? I asked aloud “but who am I telling this?”. There was silence, and then there was cheering. I became christ-like, someone truly pure, I grasped the meaning of life, I was an essential creature who needed for nothing. Everyone was chanting and wooing and “who am I telling this”. I had the chance to live any life I chose. They span by me, the possibilities, like a Kodak carousel. I could choose any life I wanted. One of them had me as a kind of beautiful empress universally loved by all my people, I skipped past it at first looking for somewhere where everyone on earth was happy and had everything they needed, but then I did a double-take and I went back to that world where I was being worshipped. I thought, “this is acid, it’s temporary, why not feel the unconditional and complete adoration of an entire society for a while? Just to know what that kind of love feels like?” And I sat there in that world and I enjoyed it for a moment. Then reality pulled back a level. Everyone could see I’d wanted that. People and gods could see me wanting that. I was a laughingstock. I was nude, crawling around on the festival ground crying and naked and disgusting and everyone wanted me to leave. I heard the voice of one of my friends saying “I can’t believe she still thinks she has friends”. They were all laughing and looking over their shoulder at me. There was a spotlight. Everyone kept cheering when I decided I was going to leave the festival. It was horrifying, sad. The only solution to my problem seemed to be to literally cease to exist, and everyone was encouraging me to do it. I knew that I would be completely alone forever. They kind of pitied me for being such a sad mess that had made such a fool of herself in front of everyone and on social media. They all had their phones out taking videos and I’d made such a fool of myself and the only person I had to blame was me. It was elaborate. I tried to pop, to disappear. I said aloud “I can’t stop existing”. Everyone wanted me to leave, the whole festival. The entire vibe of the last night was ruined because I continued to exist. I’d received enlightenment, though, so I was happy enough except that I’d ruined Boom due to my relentless existence and my life was ruined. I knew “I need nothing forever” then I’d remember, “what about when I need food or water” and I’d remember again that I do need something. It’s other people, it’s community. I need to learn to want. Someone gave me water. They put me in a little van and took me across the festival. I was Kosmicare patient #386. I no longer had boots, AirPods or a phone. (They were stolen, I’ve watched them travel across Portugal). The regret faded away once it became clear that most of my shame was associated with things that were literally, physically, materially impossible. I went back out into the world. Death and rebirth. I’d been God. I’d received the message: I need to learn to need in public without shame.

Delivered into nothing, everything, reality from first principals, egodeath, death and rebirth, reformed, deformed, formless and formed. Reached across the dimension diagonal to ours and held hands with myself. The walls split open and I saw the weird dog gods who watch us performing for them like a show, they were happy that I saw them and they were like “hehehe” because they knew I’d stop seeing them soon when the blinds closed back over.

The day after the festival I was awoken by a group of people banging on my hammock. “BOOM IS OVER. YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES.” Ruxi and Christian and me took a bus to Castelo Branco where I got a lovely hotel room in the Boutique Hotel Esplanada for a couple of nights. It can be hard to make it around without a telephone.

A thousand black birds flew out loud and in formation above my hotel balcony. My first instinct was to capture it, but when my phone did not exist I was forced to enjoy life to the fullest. A man on a motorbike sped down the centre of the road like death does not exist. The sunset was teal and silver and orange. Anyway, all that aside… I love my friends… and I’m looking forward to being comfortable calling them my friends. There’s nothing like it, nothing like knowing you’re one of your favourite people’s favourite people.

I woke up sugar-sick, limping with my fucked up foot that got torn to shreds walking on the sticks and stones and hot pebbles of Boom without boots, and I started to make my way to the bus station. I stopped off at the laundromat on my way. Turns out that that girl who was brushing up in the laundromat also went to Boom. Her name is Anne-Maria. We spent the rest of the day together. We did our laundry, we went for a beer, we went for another, we drank 2 bottles of wine, we sat in the courtyard of a closed bar that eventually opened just for us. A beautiful, beautiful couple opened the restaurant and served us grapes and melon and chicken and took a picture with us. And we were loved, and thoroughly, and “fica à vontade”. They sat with us after. We drove from the laundromat to Anne-Maria’s hostel. I got into the car and wondered if this would be the place that I died. I didn’t mind a lot. She put on some cumbia and drove happy through the wide roads and pretty colorful buildings like death does not exist. And I felt that death does not exist. She’s from Luxembourg. She went into her hostel searching for wine and water. We drank another bottle and a half of wine and we ate courgette with tomato, peanut butter and garlic.

Tomorrow we’re going back to Idanha-a-nova for Anne-Maria’s court date then all the way to Sintra on a road trip to see her favourite beach. In her hostel, I stepped on the pedal bin in the kitchen and it contained nothing but garlic skins. It came up 3 or 5 inches, nothing but garlic skins. I dumped my garlic skins in and moved on.

British Summer Time GMT+1

Week 29 de 2023

I have eaten so much fucking baking powder this week.

Fizzy, fizzy, fizzy.

In toilets; in a field; in an airport; in the disused stairwell of a defunct railway station. How they rip you off in Lisbon is not the way they rip you off in London. They aren’t comfortable stealing from you. They need you to agree to it. They’ll ask you if you want ketamine, take you down an alley and give you a bump of something that’s 10% speed, 20% novocaine, mostly baking powder. Even in reputable businesses they’ll give you a shot of tequila and then charge you 10 euros and say “it’s a special tequila.”. They’re happy to walk away if you don’t want it. It’s a city of grifters. They need you to agree to to it. They won’t steal from you. They won’t rip you off unless you prove you are a sucker, a mark. Do not give a sucker an even break.

It's kind of shaken my constitution, though. My faith in myself, and my ability to judge a nice and honest person. One dude at the airport added me on Facebook and then tried to sell me baking powder for 80 euros claiming it was Ket. I'm looking at pictures of him eating hot dogs with his kids and he's trying to sell me baking soda. My only conclusion is that they don't take drugs, and so they don't understand how one white powder is different from another, and that they therefore are able to rationalize that they're doing you a favour.

DISCLAIMER: Apologies to fans of brevity, this is going to be a long one. The article, I mean. It's long. A lot has happened. I'm leaving so much out, trying to stick only to the parts that advance the story. But the story is my whole life, so I don't know what details have narrative importance yet. Anyway

See, ketamine is very specific. It has crystalline tree-like structures. It looks like that. It sparkles. Mixed with aloe vera you can use it as facial glitter. It's a very specific thing. A bump of it does not bring you up, it brings you through. There is nothing on this world that feels like it. Rit-it-it-it-it-it. Nothing. The geometry, the sacred temple, it's very peculiar, very unique, the other side of the room.

After getting off the plane nothing particularly interesting happened. I have several paragraphs of nots here from those first few days but honestly they are so dark and ridiculous there is no point sharing them. Sometimes when you haven't slept properly or eaten at all your nerves are shattered and everything comes through past some filter of doom and desperation. Right now I'm sitting on this ark, ark beach. Completely navy. All the lights off the festival are off to the right, it's far, it's near. The people around me are gentle, but wild, but happy. I'm so far away from the anxiety that riddled me in the unslept of the airport and the city.

That first night I ended up sleeping in the airport because people kept staring at me and it creeped me out. Felt like I shouldn't walk around at night alone. The next day I stayed in this adorable hotel, have a crush on everyone there, great day. Sat on a lawn, napped on a lawn, drank tequila and Super Bock (Super Bock is the only beer that exists in Lisbon, except for knock-off Super Bock), and when I got into my room and I touched the bed I slept for 10 hours before I noticed.

There's nothing really of note in Lisbon except I spent 80 euros on make-up and I stopped in the stairwell beyond the main mall, there were some men with some instruments. I was trying to understand their sound without hearing it. An electric guitar through pedals, a pixiephone, an acoustic guitar, a drumming cube, and a flute. One of the men told me he sings. Then it started to come together. I asked if I could play their guitar. I played a few songs, sang in the stairwell. The melodica man played along. We played good together. Is there a word for the nostalgia of the life unled?

Got super drunk on tequila in my next hotel room, raided the minibar. Talked to a couple bartenders who told me "if you want to move to Lisbon: learn English", which I did not take personally. Dudes kept half-sprinting across the squares in Lisbon to ask me if I wanted drugs. I was all "¿why me?" until I started seeing people arrive with neon hair and spiral tattoos and clocked that it's just super easy to spot when someone's going to boom lol. Did a magic(k)al ritual overlooking all the buildings from up on high.

Next night, stayed up all night. I got the boom bus. I stressed Polly out a lot by being a mess and dropping everything i owned over and over. If you’re the kind of person that naturally wants to take care of people i can be hard to be around because I don’t care if live or die, I don't mind if I lose all my stuff and then my life. Especially when i'm drunk i'm so cuckoo.  I slept most of the bus while needing to pee. The heat when we got out to get our tickets was a solid object.

I arrive at Boom festival. So dehydrated, so confused. So lucky Ciara came. Saved my life. And she put up my hammock for me too. Fuckin' love her. Stunning. Would be dead on the side of a hill right now without her i think, because i lay down there a long while slowly drying before she called me over.

-- I had to jump off the navy-dark beach then. Emily needed to move. We both needed to move. And it's time to go to The Gardens to meet Becky Avery.

OK. Listen, I'm sitting outside The Gardens right now against the tree I met Nick at typing while Emily and Becky and Beth dance together inside to some zap. I might rush a little. Sorry.

First morning of Boom I had a cherished beach morning with Polly. We had a lovely chat about what we want from Boom. I don't know what I want. She has an idea. She goes in the water and I try moving her hopes forward with a little ritual.

I head for some food. Ruxi and Christian arrive at the campsite. They ask me to wait by the area they are putting their tent up. I improvise a little barrier ritual. Works well enough. They get set up. We go and meet Ciara in the central plaza by the charger. Christian and Ruxi draw on each other with my white marker. Everything is staccato, but it's exciting, eventually there will so much. We go to The Gardens to watch Kaya Project. Had a little ket off Fenn. "Well, well, well... this is not baking powder".

When everyone goes to bed I go to the cocktail bar and meeting Kevin who tells me he once took some of Jefferson Airplane's personal stash of frozen acid. He dropped a little acid on my hand (not Jefferson Airplane's) and I licked it off. Mathilda and I went through The Door of Light together and peed in the lake separately. I lost them dating in The Gardens, went back to ma hammock.

can’t tell if the person in the tent next to me is having sex or being repeatedly scratched by a harsh linen. very unusual sex noises, like it’s fairly, but not severely, cumbersome for her.

oh! the man just came and he also makes a sound like he’s been mildly inconvenienced, they are perfect for each other.

i am going to go to the lake and drown myself if i have to listen to one more minute of this incredibly boring sex. she keeps coughing. i’ve been sitting in a hammock listening to a straight man fail to bring any earthly pleasure to a woman who loves him for what’s felt like decades.

then I was buying arancini, Virginia (arancini girl) told me “i have to take a picture of you”. she took my disposable camera and said “you look so cute”, took the pic and put the camera back on the counter. i picked the camera up and i told her that I have to take a picture too, and that she looks so cute too, and she did, and sheN got cute for the camera too. i hope those pictures come out

Next day I got up about 9am. Still tripping. Got some food (arancini). On my way back to my hammock, just I was starting to feel normal again i walked past 6 dudes dressed in business suits with cowbells around their necks being herded by an old farmer with a stick. They broke out into a synchronized briefcase exchange dance.

Kept bumping into Becky Avery and Beth. Always a delight. Absolute pair of dreams those two. Nothing more to say right now. Huge fan.

I was sitting in central plaza about to cry again. Emily⛈️ stomped up shouting "CHEE rrrRA-BBITS". I am a huge Emily⛈️ fan, don't know if you know that about me. Very fun, very excited, very split-focus. When there is something on her todo list there is nothing else in the world.

People betray their deepest thoughts with meaningful pauses between words. Picking up on those, and guessing what they mean, that makes people feel like you understand them deeply, Even if it’s only a shallow understanding of them and a general knowledge of character.

Emily⛈️ is really nice to be around. Empathetic, thoughtful, patient, excited and vibrant with the promise of life. Also sometimes when she yawns she spits like a snake. Tss tss. Right out the mouth in two sharp streams.

We’re getting fucked up on Red Bulls together in the drug-testing line. We waited there for hours, four hours, waiting to hear the number 313 (the drug testing system works like a deli counter) so we could find out if this €40 bag of €60 ketamine was ketamine. I tasted a little of it, and it was definitely drugs, but it didn’t taste like ketamine, it didn’t look like ketamine. It was crystals, but not shiny or crystalline, no tree formations. but it didn’t clump like baking soda, and it was definitely not just numbing agent. But it did numb my tongue, and my whole mouth. Nothing really does that that i know except cocaine and the stuff they use to stamp on cocaine.

We had a lovely, funny, chill time. Good conversation. We made a little promise to ourselves and each other that we wouldn't take MDMA this festival. We kept checking in with each other to know if the other wanted to do something else other than sit there talking. We never did.

The only sure thing was Hilight Tribe at Dance Temple at six. That was the only sure thing for a lot of people. It was the only sure thing for Ciara, Ruxandra, Christian, becky Avery, Beth, Emily⛈️, chee, and a other people who I met who had one sure thing.

I was doing a sober day. Tired, confused, sticky, messy, lonely, got stones in my boots, and feeling a lot like i woke up tripping after four hours of very light sleep. This is another festival where i find myself walking away from everyone to accept i’ll always be alone, that i’m a loner, that i will always be alone. i don’t know if it’s true, but i do keep accepting it which might be meaningful in someway... i guess.

Emily⛈️ went to get changed, i looked after The Number. I went to get changed, emily⛈️ passed the maybemine to kosmicare and read some of my blog and when I got back she complimented my writing and this is my writing right now and she's actually reading it right now after it was written tomorrow and is it still good writing am I wriiting good now emily⛈️?

Kosmicare needs 3 hours after our deli ticket to test the drug and tell us if it's baking powder, rat poison or Ketamine.

come out to the coast. meet some entities, get fucked up. interface directly with the universal console, touch the face of god and get smashed.

Headed to the dance temple to see Hilite Tribe. It was incredible. Turns out at this point it's everyone’s one sure thing. The whole festival there. Super-duper thick throng. I understand for some there is a thrill to the throng but for me the throng just feels wrong. Saw Ruxi briefly as she disappeared into the depths of it. Too much for me; I couldn't follow her. But, I loved it from the peripheries with Em⛈️. Met up with Fenn from last night. Found Ciara. Had a chat. Got some of the rocks out of my shoes. Had a little panic when the throng started closing in on me and emily⛈️ took me somewhere safe. Sat with Fenn and Em⛈️ by the big face that emerges from the ground between the temple and the beach. Bought two tacos. Gave emily⛈️ a taco. Got the ketamine results back from Kosmicare. Went through an archway. Took emily⛈️ through the same bright light doorway i’d passed through last night with Kevin and Mathilda, now i’d passed through the arch both ways and she’d passed through once and i’d passed through the light door we were finally on the same side. we sat down on the rocks at the darkest part of the beach and talked for another hour. we spent so much time walking around together her iPhone warned her thet my Airpods were traveling with her.

The "ketamine", by the way, turned out not to be ketamine. It also wasn't baking soda. It wasn't rat poison. This is how Emily⛈️ delivered the info, just like that:

"So.... it isn't ketamine.... it also isn't baking soda... it also isn't rat poison...". What was it? That's right, 90% pure MDMA. ??? what ??? ¿¿¿I don't idk???

Emily⛈️ went to bed. I went to the gardens to meet ruxi and ciara and christian but couldn’t find anyone. i’d made it through my sober day. I felt so isolated. I guess I felt excited too.

Saturday i didn’t get up until like 11. that’s like 10 hours sleep. Sobriety is exhausting. Never again. Somebody called me a niche fuck. I felt amazing. Had gazpacho for breakfast. You gotta let it sit against those back parts of your tongue on the left and right to let your body know it’s coming and get ready to make full use of it. That's what the tongue is for, I think? To get the body ready to use the nyoots.

Back to hammock. Ems had no data. Ruxi and Christian suddenly beside me. Walked with them, no shoes, to the beach, to the lake, we got wet together, we ate ketamine. I abandoned the workshop at the last minute to go to the cocktail bar. Ruxi started journalling :).

How to walk barefoot on hostile earth:

  1. To misquote the 1962 British biographical epic Lawrence Of Arabia, "the trick, my dear, is not minding that it hurts'

  2. Develop a huge crush on Mother Earth so when she stabs and burns you you can be like "oh my! madam! we have company!" an blush instead of being in pain

  3. Sing a karmic chant like that one off the OB-4 demo

I learned that I treat naked people different. I don't know in what way I do... but, I guess I do. Tell you how I found out: sometimes in the lake you meet people, have a full length chat with them and then later when you leave the lake you learn they were stark naked. It can be a surprise. a strange kind, where it’s in no way an issue. you’re just surprised that you… were chatting to like them like they were wearing clothes, but they weren’t. you’ll learn you talk to naked people differently, and that’s the surprise. an internal surprise, not an external surprise.

^--- note to editor: please kill this entire paragraph?

Saturday night was something I don't have permission or skill to explain. I'll likely not understand it until much later in my life. Maybe several years after I've died. But there were French girls. And if the morning me and Emily hung out and saw Astral Projection live and the we hung out some more and got drunk and that's basically it. She's dancing with Beth and becky avery right now in The Garden and I'm not because I'm writing this fucking blog. I'm going to stop writing it now so I can go where I belong, a k-hole at the chill-out stage.

British Summer Time GMT+1

week 28 of '23

I’m struggling to recall how this week began, and I’m currently off-line on my flight to Portugal using my MacBook Air with no writing archive.

I dyed my hair various UV colors. Dark hot pink, orange (electric lizard) and lemon (electric banana) and lime. I went to the cinema with the taco girl. We saw the Wes Anderson. Good movie. I liked the line “I’ve learned to take people as I find them, not as others find them” a lot. It’s good and important.

On Tuesday I got a letter from Orla Foster. A true joy. She is a wonderful writer. She was angrier than normal, as funny as usual. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say she is one of my favorite writers. It’s very funny to say “what an inspiring young woman!” as an insult.

Who can be sure what happened on Wednesday? I remember I went out… I talked to some people at The Railway… I bought some drinks and I sat in the graveyard listening to The Velvet Underground for a while. I remember that I stayed up until 4am tracking my summer against Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey. It works pretty well. It means that Portugal, Boom festival, is the abyss. It’s death and rebirth. It’s the belly of the beast. It means that it’s there I must change from what I have been to what I will be. It’s there, narratively speaking, that I should find what I’m looking for. And pay the price.

On Thursday I went into the office. I went out afterwards. I kissed somebody. I woke up in a doorway of a hotel on Bread Street without a phone. I managed to get my phone back thanks to the help of a colleague and the gentle restauranteur who’d found it and brought it with him to Row Lane.

Friday night I packed my bags for Portugal. I went to bed kind of early. I considered the idea of smuggling ketamine in a an old Maybelline Translucent Powder container. It has a bottom shelf, and a built in mirror, and it’s normal for it to be filled with white powder. It is an exceptional place to keep powdered drugs. Plus you can say “Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s ketamine.”

On Saturday I continued packing. Talked with Georgia on the phone for a couple of hours. Veeted my entire body. Redid my hair dye. Had a good bath. All smooth like a dolphin. On Saturday night I went to the warehouse to collect Ruxi’s Crocs. Crocsandra. Crocsandra Crocsun. While I’m there collecting the crocs, having a beer at the kitchen table, a party breaks out around me. I text ivi. Ivi’s playing a live set at The Jago. I love The Jago. I go to the local bar to get a quick pair of tequilas while I await my taxi to The Jago. A fist fight breaks out beside me between two men because one asked if I was trans and the other decided to defend my honour. The question asker was pushed out the door, onto the floor. Thrown out of the pub almost literally like jazzy jeff.

Ivi was great. A really good set. I loved every moment of it. I’m not being hyperbolic when I say they are my favourite dj. Also one of my favourite people. I met some people in the smoking area who were very nice too. One of them invited me to their housewarming in August, so there’s that to look forward to. August is seeming like a busy month. Ivi took me to a party afterwards. First we stopped by a Clapton warehouse where I met some new queers. They were very lovely. I like them a lot. It’s nice to meet people who you feel immediately comfortable with, and who seem like old friends. The party was in a house but there were wristbands like it was an event. I danced a lot. I agreed to marry several people. Most of the people there were from Brazil. I did not agree to marry any Brazilians.

When the party was complete, we returned to the warehouse and I sat on the floor and worried that I had overstayed my welcome. In fact at one point I was so certain that I had, I packed my bag and got up and started towards the door before asking for confirmation and being told to sit back down. It’s something I’m very nervous about, I guess. I don’t know when I’m part of the group that stays and hangs out and part of the group that is meant to leave. The highlight of the evening, and perhaps my entire life, was when ivi and ana (a mexican(?) creature with severe black and red bangs who projects an aura of incredible cool that would be exceptionally intimidating if they weren’t so kind) danced to the “psyggaetón” track I made after Existance. Ana kept saying “This is a bridge” and “Can we have this” and the faces they made while getting into the groove of it left me speechless and proud and weak. I literally had to leave after this because I could no longer communicate. I am not used to seeing somebody whose opinion is important to me enjoying something I’ve created so fervently. Maybe I should make more of that. Maybe it is not a joke.

I’d stayed up all night again, hadn’t I? I got a taxi home. I drank a few beers and a few shots of tequila and finished off my packing. I watched a few episodes of Justified and then went to the airport. I tried out the Business Class lounge. The vibe was all off for me, but I did enjoy making myself an incredibly spicy rhesus negative Bloody Mary at the unmanned self-service Bloody Mary counter. I don’t understand why priority boarding is seen as a benefit? It meant I had to move from walking around comfortably in the airport to being trapped in an uncomfortable airplane seat much earlier, and spend an hour there that could have been spent on tequila. I’m writing this now from the plane where I’ve been surprised to learn that British Airways knows I’m diabetic and so prepared me a special off-menu fish dish.

I removed the typewriter from my backpack just before leaving. I allowed doubt to creep in. I really regret it now, I know that I should have brought it. Perhaps I can pick up a new one at some Portuguese antiques store.

I don’t have any hotels booked. I don’t have any idea what I’m doing when I land or the days until I take the bus into the festival. Or the days after the festival. The next time I write, I will be at Boom in the silly heat. It’ll be the halfway point, which might mean we know the left half of the story circle. I've bought aeroplane internet now so I can post this from my seat and then hopefully have another little nap.

British Summer Time GMT+1

week 27; 2023

i don't know if there is a way to write this without sounding arrogant, but i think there's just too much of me. i get so excited when i get to spend the whole of one part of me with someone, i lose myself in it. then i remember about all the other parts of me, the "let's watch every nicholas cage movie without stopping for a break" or the "let's spend 4 days in the woods with no plans" or the "let's eat only yoghurt for an entire day" or the "i don't want to go outside anymore" or the "i hate myself i hate myself i hate myself" or the "let's go to venezuela tomorrow" or the "how tall can a stack of pennies be without falling over don't google it" or the "i want to make a song entirely from your vowel sounds" or "let's go to the theatre" or the ones that aren't available right now because any moment in life is a veil around all the parts of yourself who aren't present. i remember those and then somebody's heart gets broken. usually mine, which i'm fine with. but sometimes it's another heart and that i just cannot abide.

this week was kind of a light week. it was lovely, though. on monday i went to work. on the way home i met a colleague of mine i'd never met before. really a very fantastic and interesting individual who is unexpectedly up for living, and who i hope i will spend many more hours with before we both die. after that i stopped by this particular bar near cannon street that i enjoy ordering the worst drinks in the world from. this time i ordered a pretty good drink. a big tom, two shots of tequila, and as many chopped limes as they were willing to fork over. they forked over 5 wedges, i mixed the drinks and added the juice of a whole lime and a furniture wedge and took to drinking. needs salt. checked a table. no salt. asked two ladies as the next table if their table had salt. not only did ellis provide me with salt, she also provided me with the skills to get salt from what i'd previously understood to be a pepper shaker.

ellis and caroline were exceedingly lovely. only in London for the week. their phones had died, both, at the previous bar. they had 1 iPhone and 1 android. i had a battery and a usb-c cable and a lightning cable. i stayed with them while they charged their phones. we chatted and got on very well. caroline's hands were cold. my hands were warm. they're from that town that has that oldest sausage kitchen. we all left together and walked over towards borough market. they wanted something cheap but good to eat. i brought them to a kebab place that i favour before they took the jubilee line back home. caroline and i held hands. it was, ,, very nice. we agreed to hang out again. we never did.

a big project at work started to wrap up. on Thursday evening i headed out to the warehouse to see dear Val. it was so nice to see her and remember who i am. and then to forget who and where i was. it was nice to spend an evening with adele, too, who will be leaving soon. she is very kind and i wish i could travel to her memory of her home, which seems like a place i could have a good time. it was good to meet Val's beau and to see Damian (as always). it's a good place there and one of which i will always be a part, and that will always be a part of me, no matter what. i believe in it, in what is happening there. i was asked two questions last week that i was in no position to answer due to the negative manner in which ketamine affects my comprehension and vocabulary and to which i have much clearer answers now.

i tidied my apartment. it's still a mess. but it's so much better than it's been in a long time and i feel like a whole different capybara. i learned that in venezuela they call a capybara "chigüile" which has my name in it. chee is short for chigüile now. chigüile achiote valentina conejita is my full name. please update your records.

on friday night i went to windsor to see the babe Duckie Hughes in a 60s musical. it was really, really good. i loved it. 60s music, 60s make-up, duckie hughes. so many of my favourite things in one place. i wept repeatedly and openly right there in the front row. small theatre is so kinetic. they open an umbrella and you feel it clack against your bones. afterwards i got stuck in windsor. another one of those dazes where i went to do a thing and then afterwards suddenly "fuck, i'm here". forgot they don't have public transport at night. took me until 7am to get home. slept all day. woke up and stuck on an ivicore set. good day. lots of tequila. lots of sleeping. lots of television. redyed my hair. used uv dye. excited about portugal. can't believe i'm flying in a week. i think i'm the only person out of the people i'm going with who have a ticket yet. jaja. hope that's normal.

anyway, i love you, you, you, you and you. you, i like.

also, 🥨.

also, goodbye.

British Summer Time GMT+1

Week 26; 2023

I'm sitting on the red sofa at the back of the warehouse writing now. The house is mostly still and mostly dark. Dark but for one warm light hanging above the kitchen. Still but for the sound of the shower, a television behind a closed door, and the occasional clack of metal against ceramic. Sergio is back with pizza and a treat for the dog.

I'm jumping in my seat. Little pinches from the inside making my unslept body flinch and jitter, jitter and flinch.

Shortly after close of business last Sunday, I received an instagram DM. "Would you be interested in coming to a Psytrance festival in Portugal for 7 days? 🤣🤣🤣". Imagine that, jaja. Going to Portugal for a week to a Psytrance festival. Jajaja.

I was at a conference for work most of the week. On Tuesday I listened to Psytrance on purpose and enjoyed it. On Tuesday night Ruxi and me stayed up til 5am talking about Boom. Maybe. Maybe we'll go. I bought a hammock. Just in case.

On Wednesday night I stopped in at The Railway on the way home to pee. On the way to the bathroom, met a very fun person at the bar by the name of Lily. We got on very easily, and were extremely annoying together. It was fun, we chatted for about 2 hours. I laughed until there were tears. We pretended, for a while, that we were trapped in an escape room together. Looking for 3 keys, typing codes we'd discovered into the credit card machine, asking customers "are you a clue?". Very annoying to be around, extremely fun to be part of.

Thursday I booked 3 weeks off, booked flights to Portugal, got a ticket to Boom. The cheapest way for me to get tickets was a Business Class flight on British Airways with all my unused airmails. 11 pounds. It'll be the first time I ever fly Business Class. Then I'll sleep in a hammock for a week.

Friday I started getting ready.

Saturday was a slow day, I tidied up a bit and made a chili. I tried getting tipsy, but it wouldn't take. Damian told me there's a party at the warehouse tonight. Opened a few coronas. Drank a little tequila. No take, no vibe. Ruxi got on a plane. I had a shower, got dressed, got packed. Ruxi landed in Luton and we raced each other to the warehouse. Got the vibe.

Thing is, I'm just a very weird person with an inability to regulate my intensity. When I can see something good on the horizon, I just want to skip to the end. It was a good night. It started around 3am. There was a lot of dancing, 4 parties. We made our own party too. Damian was on the decks and he came to me and said "I want to a party", so I went out to the street and gathered a Mexican man and a German lady and some other folks and brought them in to dance and chat. I sat and played the piano for the German lady, she plays the violin, it helped her relax enough to book an uber she never took. There was some acoustic music in the street. I played the guitar. It was a good party. I took plenty of phone numbers and Instagram handles of people I'll probably never speak to again. I was so happy sometimes. Brimming with it, overflowing.

Towards the end of the Sunday night me and Ciara and Ruxi were waiting for some food to arrive. It was going to be here in 10 minutes for four hours. Things got dark and shaky. Doubt, anxiety. Really a bad idea to stay up that long and not eat. 100 hours of waking time between the three of us. I'm too much. I feel like some of my shine has worn off. I feel like I should never have come.

At midnight the warehouse was lit like a scene from The Godfather, that one orange light above the kitchen table. Knock on the door. He came in and said "Rabbit. Help me put these things up on the table like it is a banquet." He handed me two pizzas and a Pizza Hut dessert. From his bag he passed a family-sized galaxy chocolate, a bottle of merlot, a bag of mini teasers, a kilogram of ketamine, a liter of GHB and 8 kinder buenos. Ruxi came out of the shower and sat in the middle. I sat at the head of the table. He said "This is how it will be. I will marry Ruxi and you will be our pet rabbit."

In the morning Damian and me went for a lovely walk in Finsbury Park before I headed in to work. We're going to Boom. I'm buzzing.

British Summer Time GMT+1

week 25; 2023

is it really possible for a rabbit to be so happy? or tired? i have my filthy little fingers in so many puddings right now.

the party never stops, party til you puke, party mindset all year long

a ver... what happened? Tuesday was normal, sleepy. Wednesday was normal, sleepy. i can't actually recall the evenings of either of those days but i think they were normal and sleepy too.

Thursday i went out with some work people. I had some longer chats with some people i love and respect than i've had in a long time. that was nice. i went dancing with some gays and an italian later. We went to dirty martini, a bar for people with too much self respect to go to Popworld, but not enough self respect to just go home. it was nice enough. I didn't like watching a girl say "don't leave without me!" and her friend say "of COURSE NOT babe" and then when the girl went to the bathroom the friend immediately jumped into a taxi and zoomed off. Me and the girl shared a taxi home because we were going the same way. We held hands and chatted and it was girly and friendly and nice. We had to stop the cab a few times so she could throw up, which i found quite charming.

on Friday i had the day off for a picnic that was canceled because my picnic partner being couldn't get a vacation day on account of being sick earlier in the month. initially i thought this would be a day of rest, but then i received a text from someone i haven't heard from in a very long time, and i went to meet them for cold fluid in a café in Fitzrovia. it was a good and funny chat and it was good to see Christabel and i'm glad that i went.

on Friday night i, for some reason, went to the house of a stranger with a bunch of people i don't know and took the worst drug in the world: cocaine. it makes everything worse, it makes everyone worse, it feels like shit and it is the only drug that still gives me an awful comedown. it's expensive, it's terrible. It makes no night better and makes every morning worse. In the UK it's mostly poison, baby powder and speed. the strangers kept telling me about all the good things they've done for the gays and how gender doesn't matter to them. and then telling me what a "good man" i am. it was horrible. i don't know why i went other than as self-sabotage because i knew i was going to Barnet tomorrow to see the taco girl.

On Saturday i went to Barnet to see the taco girl. she got me a staff wristband for a soul and funk festival. It took an hour and a half on the train and the underground, and 40 minutes on foot. I drank some tequila, got some tacos. I told some customers in the line "they're the second best tacos in london, after mine" to tease the taco man. Later on I heard the taco man tell some customers they are the second best tacos in London, to tickle me. I asked the taco girl if she'd like to go to the movies some time, and she said that she would love to. So we're going to go to the movies some time. That's good, she makes me laugh and I make her laugh, that's good. I'm curious if we will still enjoy eachother's company in a scenario where I am not giving her money and she is not giving me tacos. I have no objectivity when tacos are involved.

"What am I doing in Barnet?"

Once the daze faded away and i became aware of a shocking and uncomfortable truth: "I'm in Barnet." The festival had a strange energy, the clientele. It was like being at a festival with every manager I've ever had. The vibes all wrong. Smile-to-frown ratio deep on the narrow end. There were 3 stages and it was a very small field and there were very few places you could be where you couldn't hear all 3 stages at the same time. I was so sleepy because of staying up all night taking stupid cocaine with people who made me feel unsafe. So regrettable. I started planning my trip to Hampstead Heath for Moja's party.

"Rabbit!"

Somebody shouting "Rabbit!" at me. Nobody calls me "Rabbit" except for Ruxi and Christian. This was somebody I'd met at a party one and a half years ago and had not seen since. Isaac, from Ekaterina's house on NYE 21/22. It seems like winter 21/22 is adjacent to this summer in some way, lots of little threads. After we chatted for a while he started to invite me to a party in Hampstead Heath. Moja's party, which i was already on my way to. He doesn't even know Moja. So that was funny and fun and unexpected.

We travelled together to the Heath, walked through the woods, through the nettles, through the bushes, got to the party just as it got dark. I was very happy to see everybody. I had a nap under a tree. I was more wasted than I'd been in a long time, very unstable on my feet and didn't really know what was going on. In the morning as the dnb and psy died down, there was guitar and drumming and singing. The girl singing I'd been to see play a gig in January 2022 and haven't seen since. That was the same day me and Eva curled up under a blanket on the bus at night and said "rrrrrr" with the rolling `r' to rest her Greek tongue.

Saturday was Snow Tha Product's birthday. feliz cumpleaños, Snow.

So I woke up in the woods, surrounded by friends, covered in dirt. filthy rabbits. Sorry if this post is a poorer read than normal, I'm very tired and haven't revised it or edited it. I miss the catsnake.

British Summer Time GMT+1

Week 24; 2023

I'm the rabbit.

Long week. Where do I start?

On Tuesday I went to buy a picnic basket at Selfridge's. I took some wrong turns but ended up in the right place eventually via a few pubs and strange conversations. A text message arrived from the Russian. There were chains involved. And ketamine. A second message came through, Rx inviting me to attend a psytrance festival in Oxford. I bought a ticket immediately without thinking about it at all. I'm glad that I did.

On Wednesday I had a very good picnic in Hampstead Heath with the dear and sweet Dani. They made an incredible dip. And sangria. They brought their sweet, sweet gatito Jupiter who we love very much and are very impressed by. Dani was 4 hours late to the picnic. I was 2 hours late to the picnic. It was very much a wonderful picnic.

Thursday I worked and packed for the festival. I will follow up this post with a listicle of the 45 things every girl must bring to a festival. I headed down to Regent's Park to say hello to some work people and then headed off to Paddington for the 723 to Oxford.

So, yes. 4 days of psytrance. I've probably mentioned this before, but i do not like psytrance. I've learned to appreciate it like one learns to appreciate and enjoy the taste of coffee. Much like coffee, psytrance is objectively disgusting. But I have learned now that when i can hear and feel that 1 kickdrum rhythm that serves as the backbone of every single track, it means that i am near people who love me. I am comforted by it, and it feels like home. Though, if i'm going to listen to a single obnoxious beat for 100 uninterrupted hours I would much rather it be reggaetón. Rómpelo, rómpelo. But the people, the people. The best people in the world.

What can I say about the festival? First of all, the people I went with (Rx, Dm, Dl, B, E, Ch, Ci, V) are truly very lovely and gorgeous people and I am proud and excited to call them my friends. The new people I met there are very lovely and wonderful people too and I hope to call them friends soon enough.

The first night was quiet. I'd expected a 1-person tent to meet me at the train station, but it didn't make it. The larger tent I'd been offered a space in came without poles so was only a square on the ground. I slept in the open air wrapped in my sarape blanket. The days were very warm and the nights so cold. Me and E and Dm sat in a 3-point circle taking ketamine and occasionally trying to approach a distant fire. We never made it more than 30 feet from the tent before retreat.

The next morning we tried approach again but were stopped each time by Simone with the cat ears 30 feet from our tent every time because the event was not ready for us. I started to believe I would never see any of the festival other than the 60ft diameter around our 2 dimensional tent due to some unseen tether or forcefield holding us. Eventually, the curse was lifted as the music started 4 hours late around 1pm. The toilets seemed always to be clean. Clean seats and hand sanitizer and even toilet paper. I very rarely entered a bathroom that was missing any one of these.

The opening set was by Dl, whose inevitable transformation into the Pablo Escobar of psytrance is coming along at a respectable pace. It was a very good set that served as the cure for the hundreds of tiny spoons of ketamine that had made my body heavy and slow, the set was a journey from bouncy psy-adjacent electronic music to darkpsy and back to plain old thumping psytrance. The bar opened up around this time and we got a few beers. I bought some mushrooms and valium and ketamine.

There were three stages. The main psy stage, the "chill out" stage and the third stage. The third stage was kind of like a rave that broke out next to the festival, all the squat party people were there dancing in the dark to hi-tech. "chill out" has a very specific meaning in the psytrance scene that differs from any definition of "chill out" used in any other scenario. In short, "chill out stage" means "my friends want to play some music". It's always my favourite place at any event. Varied music, vibes and people.

The second night I slept in a much larger PsyCare tent that's meant for critical cases. There were no critical cases that night, so I was allowed. I was having a little tent-related gender panic. It was a very kind and welcome generosity. PsyCare is a charity that provides harm reduction and care at festivals, particularly for people undergoing difficult psychological psychedelic experiences, but they also are just exceedingly lovely people who care about everyone and provide welfare to anyone who needs it or even simply gets close enough. You should give them your money. I cried in the tent. It was a happy cry but in retrospect it was a sad reason to be crying happily. Crying because somebody was nice to me, and that I was able to accept it.

Saturday's energy was very up-up, I ate some LSD and fell asleep under a tree and then entered into a very long and silent congress with a bush with white flowers where there were some important questions to answer. Acid, ketamine, a microdose of mushrooms, one and a half valium, plenty of tequila and corona. I ate over 20 tacos at the festival and quite a lot of chicharrón. The taco truck honestly might have been the highlight of the whole weekend, two very sweet people who i spent a lot of time with and have a lot more time for. I will genuinely miss seeing their little faces every morning now that it is over. Their tajín delivery didn't didn't come through, but luckily I was carrying a few tajínitos so i gave them 2 little bottles to save their margaritas. Px was wearing the prettiest dress, she made it herself. I met a couple who invited to me to their house to have a shower, i did not partake.

Saturday night was very full though I couldn't shake the feeling that i hadn't seen Ci in a long time so I went back to the tents where i found her considering going to bed due to not having a jumper. I loaned her my heart jumper and she danced off into the night. Once that was dealt with I felt quite satisfied that my contribution to the evening was complete and I wrapped myself up in sarape and went to sleep out in the open next to the now 3 dimensional tent (the tent poles had come with a later guest). Dan from PsyCare found me and laid an extra blanket on me, which was kind.

I awoke on Sunday to a thick white line on a dead telephone being slid under my nose by Dm announcing "breakfast". It turned out to be speed. I jumped up revitalized and we wandered over to the main stage and bar. My throat and nostrils were a little sore, from hayfever. At the bar I asked for a double shot of tequila, the man behind the bar thought starting the day with tequila was a very good idea and joined me. I was not in the mood to dance very much this weekend so I spent most of the time wandering around, here and there, hither and tither and to and fro, from the enchanted forest to the tents and from stage to stage to stage. I ate some MDMA while sitting in a circle with Ci, Rx, Ch and E. It was warm and nice and went on a long time. I drank a lot of water. It started to rain, I danced in the rain, I went and got some people some jumpers. When the festival ended, Ci wanted 2cb so we went hunting. I asked the guy behind the bar if he knew where to get some, and he gave me one. He wouldn't take any money. Ci and I stopped and asked another man, and he sold us one. We ate them, and I started walking back to my tent to get some materials i'd need for the afterparty. My name was being shouted from the taco truck. I went to the window and they poured me so much tequila, and we chatted there for 2 hours smoking and drinking tequila, and the taco lady added me on instagram. I might go to a summer solstice party in Barnet just to see them again because they are very lovely and they have the colombian-style chicharrón pork belly with an incredible guacamole and they have the slow cooked cochinita pibil. After they closed up their window all my friends had gone to bed, and i went to investigate the afterparty. A friendly twink gave me a crunchy piece of MDMA, and then the guy from the bar shouted "TEQUILA" at me and we went to the now-closed bar and drank blanco after blanco, had a few lines, got a pill from an older lady. While the sun was coming up I spotted Dl completely frozen still and comatose wrapped in blankets on a camping chair, I asked him if he was okay. He opened his eyes 1mm wide, and moving nothing else but his lips he said "thinking of getting on the decks." I laughed, wrapped him in the sarape and went to the bathroom where i started shivering-chattering, lay down on my back and couldn't move for thirty minutes. When I returned it was daylight and I returned to the fire at psycare for a goodbye chat, i fell asleep on the seat and slowly slipped onto the floor for an hour or two. I hope that I was not too loud when I was sleeping.

Leaving on Monday we were all so tired. We ate some pineapple con tajín. We took a bus, we stopped at Wetherspoon's, we had some food. I drank some draft corona, some tequila. On the train from Oxford back to London we drank deeply of corona and tajín and had some ketamine on the floor in the end of the cabin. At Paddington we said goodbye, had a little more ketamine on the floor beside the entrance to the elizabeth line. A businessman asked us if we were homeless because he is about to be homeless and scoping out places to sleep. It was hard to say goodbye to Rx and Ch, i don't know when I'll see them again. I ate a microdose of mushrooms and a valium and had a colourful nap until i was home.

I feel so lucky.

Soy la conejita y estoy tan quemado por el sol.