The 333 is halfway to the 666

I had this long thing about death I wanted to write but then it seemed so inappropriate with what is going on in Victoria at the moment.

Anyway I used to think LSD could save the world,
then I took too much of it.

and I suspect Tantra will be the same for me after I get through with a lawsuit for placing an un-asked-for hand on the breast of a stranger on the bus.

'Are you familiar with the way of the Tantric Mongoose' I said to her

'Get your fucking slimy hand off me, you creep' told me that she wasnt, and that she might now also be a difficult subject to convince.

That is the thanks we get for trying to guide the unwilling masses to the higher levels of existence.

not that it really happened

but I do think about it on the 333 each morning,
as I sit in relative silence,
cramped amongst strangers,
wondering what the hell we are all doing there.
trying to stare out the window
and not talk
too much
about anything
worth talking about