Greek myths and mushrooms

Dear Diary,

We walked, as dewy morn’ dried ’neath Phoebus’ rays,
Down beside the riverbank: Saturday,
Amidst nature’s verdant fecundity,
Hovered three birds’ wings, humming gently,
A lady-chaffinch swooped down atop they,
And joined the hov’ring dance: nature’s ballet,
Auster’s warm caress licks softly ’cross skin,
What other place, could one possibly live in?

"Sunrise Walk Beside a Riverbank." - M.Latham, 2015.

Okay. So getting Wolfae in on the whole work thang has been just great. Awesome. Although the sociologist has myriad lovers, knowing half how to "get through 'em", it has brought us together, closer. It is a shame I am so solitary, and that she is so much of an anarchist. (Her anarchy [sociology] was the root cause of her recent boyfriend and her splitting up). Anyway.

I should be revising, I know I should, as I am freaking out about this bloody examination palava. It is like being nailed up, up-side down, put through a meat grinder, mangled up. So, instead, I have decided to get drunk, skip work (I had a gig today, and cancelled) and write poetry instead. This is the wrong move. I should be focussing. I should be doing some kind of revision type thang.

Alas, I have reached the stage in Higher Education (some former students of our great Open University, such as James Ashmé never reach this stage) where I am obliged not to discuss matters of intellect with simpletons, such as my "learned" colleagues in Savage Kitchen, webbed feet, crossed-eyes, and far too many large moles.

Alas, I am unable to share with you, that which my heart yearns to discuss. However, I can tell you that in the introduction to Robert Graves' Greek Myths (volume 1) that I enjoyed reading Robert Graves' theories about amanita muscaria and Greek/Roman mythology. He's hardcore man. I've never had the brass balls to try them. I have found them (you know, the one's from The Smurfs, red and white polka dot), twice, and both times bailed out on indulging. I remember reading a book on mycinoids wherein was writ' the effects of ingesting amanita muscaria. "Paranoia" (tick), "Intense visions" (tick), "Sweats" (tick), "Shakes" (tick), "finally you enter into a death-like trance, from which you may or may not recover". (Ahhhh, hold the phone a cotton pickin' minute). Hat's off for Robbie Graves. Hard-core

The one time I found some (outside Didier's) I was going to prepare them properly, and perhaps take them. Didier, said, "Non!". The one time they found a neighbour after having eaten the amanita muscaria, he was on all fours, with holes in his jeans. We didn't know whether he had done a tour of the forest, impersonating some kind of quadruped , or whether he had simply been in his barn all night (where we found him), going round in circles, on all fours, "doing a howler". This man was straight before that, and now all his art is abstract. In any case, it is not a wise move to take such… things. Grant took some, in Ireland. He just had the tiniest slither, was violently sick for three whole days, had sweats and shakes, then when he came to, his art changed to all abstract. Arnaud Schmidt, of the "Number Nine Experiment" has taken a great deal of hallucinogenics, especially mushies, and has never seen anything vision like. I suggested he take D.M.T. (or even better: use his imagination). Long since are my wayward days of self-indulgence done. Anyway, back to revision.