Head Prism

Upgrading… updating… sorting it out. Not long now… well, just a wee while maybe.

Outside In-sights

To turn inside out is a violent act, but to turn outside in is only natural. It is not to turn at all, but to face the world and meet yourself in it. This is not narcissism or solipsism. This is animism, anarchism, the primacy of perception. You are just anOther in a world that is alive. The surface of your body is the depths of your mind. The universe and you are inextricably intertwined; you are crossed-over co-projections, just as light enters the eye. The end is insight, and so is the beginning. There is nothing to put right but the stories we are spinning. Life is suffering? Only because we Love! We are all archetypal avatars and every animal god! And they are us! Consciousness is an infallible mystery. All truth requires poetry: without it science is invisible and religion is silent. These are outside in-sights: inclusive yet transcendent.

CONTENTS

• Forthcoming…

Inklings

Inklings are high-coo calligraphy. Intentional accidents. Attempts to capture words from the tip of the tongue and spit them joyously onto the page. To frame images of the ineffable in a collaboration with chance. To make space for meaning to find itself in marks that record a dance.

Inklings are creatures too. They emerge wherever imagination gives them air to breathe, where attention flows like water and crystalline eddies flash. They rush to the surface for a moment, leaving messages written in ripples, then back to the depths they dash.

Inklings are feelings free. Feelings that whisper in wind-currents while they tickle your chest. Feelings that gurgle in glistening springs while they frolic in your belly. Feelings that boom in the dark of night while they startle in your heart, that hint like the trees that make the moon wink. Feelings that glint in your eye when the sun warms your body, that dapple your tongue with the faint scent of adventure…

Inklings, they say, cannot be grasped. But then:
I hear you can catch a laugh.

CONTENTS

• Forthcoming…

CommUnification!

CONTACT

• Get in Touch!

CONNECT

• Big Bridge (and thing.net)
• Larzaffer The Philosopher
  

COLLABORATE

• LovEvolvers

Come play in the feel-dings of the awed!

Authentic immedia, straight from the horse’s mouth, hooves firmly on the ground, eyes to the cantering skies. Outdoor performances striving to mimic nature’s spontaneity, making fire from the wind’s applause and cheers from the cheeps of birds. The reappropriation of the taken-for-granted in the service of wonder: a ruler can measure, or a ruler can sing. (That thing is a who, so who is that thing?) Flow-jamming with the ever-happening. The lyrical writing of light on moving water. Emotions groan in-sighed the garden. Outside in-pourings cast in sunshine-bronze and touched up with musical fingers. Organic chasms opening and closing like the mouth of a fish made of paint swimming through a forest of art (blowing observatory bubbles) the choral rustle of each wind-tickled masterpiece dissected without breaking the skin. The skin rippling like the surface of a river, dripping bones like candles made of shifting pebbles, the eyes a hologram, the brain run away down slick nerve streets to party at the edge of time. A palpable symphony of ultra-sensual celebration…

( ( ( ((( JoyInUs! ))) ) ) )

CONTENTS

• The kNew Forest
• np1s01s02
• BrainBowZzz

"Psilocybin Productions." Ink & Psilocybe semilanceata on paper. (1999)

In the last years of the previous century the internet truly came alive for me. My growing mind was open wide, and what should I find at the tapping tips of my fingers but a strange and vivid world of liberating knowledge waiting to come inside…

I’d been fascinated by psychedelics ever since watching a piece of Government anti-drug propaganda in my early teens in which a young LSD casualty believed he was on fire, I missed the intended message of FEAR and instead became incredibly enamoured by the idea that certain drugs could so completely alter one’s experience of reality -
it sounded like fun to me!

I vaguely recall sitting in a doctors surgery leafing through a brochure designed to inform parents of the various drugs their children may be on, when I saw a picture of these shrivelled little elves called, irresistibly, “magic mushrooms”.
Magic mushrooms?!
How phucking purrrfect!
I immediately fell in love.

It wasn’t until years later, just after starting college, that I met them in real life. I was sat round my dealer’s house one happy evening, smoking the wonderful weed with a few good friends, when she announced to us all that she’d got in some shrooms and asked if we’d like to try them. We gobbled a few down and carried on as usual. We felt a bit buzzy and giggly but that seemed to be about the extent of it – at least until the character in the movie we were watching started tripping: I was fascinated by this magnificent special effect that made objects seem to bleed into one another, their boundaries being composed of reaching and retracting spiral tendrils caught in a rhythmic dance. It wasn’t until I went to the toilet and saw the same thing happening to the wallpaper that I realised the effect I was seeing wasn’t in the TV but in my mind! How very amusing! I watched this beautiful wriggle, this self-contained movement like a time-lapsed vine constantly growing into itself, ever active but going nowhere, and felt a calm elation; I felt happy in the face of this benign mystery, comforted by the infinite possibilities implicit in such a happening.

So it came to be that I typed “magic mushrooms” into a search engine, and found my destiny fed back to me in the results. It was the holy trinity of deoxy, erowid & the lycaeum that served as focal points for my early education. I read all about mushrooms, taking my pseudonym “PsillyBoy” from the ‘Psilly’ in “Psilly Psimon’s Mushroom Growin’ Guide,” and the ‘Silly Boy’ I could hear the mother in my mind call me as I greedily drank down all this forbidden knowledge. I joined a mailing list discussing the crazy beyond-quantum world of the Mexican mint Salvia Divinorum. I found a Gnostic Garden that sold various dried plants & seeds labelled NOT FOR HUMAN CONSUMPTION! (luckily I didn’t consider myself fully human.) I was awestruck by the self-taught “Psychonauts” who voyaged these far-out plains chasing experiences that enriched their lives, thinking thoughts that expanded their minds into realms scarcely dreamt of by the scared and sleeping masses. I was exposed to ancient philosophy and frontier science, to art and music and poetry that went to the weird heart of the human condition and didn’t blink. I was free to think whatever it was possible to think, to embrace a world beyond belief.

It was at Glastonbury Festival in the sunny summer of 1999 that some of the possibilities the mycelial wwweb had shown me became reality. O the excitement of walking down that long hill filled with colourful people towards the vibrating mysteries of that magical temporary city of tents!!! We set up camp in a little field opposite the Jazz World stage, not far from some Hare Krishna dishing out free food that became a salvation for those of us who spent all our money on drugs. O the drugs! Bearded champions breezing through the fields calling like plucked birds: “Ganja! Acid! Pills!” Bless the old hippy who sat with us fresh-faced fools and doled out his shrooms before uttering the immortal words: “Would anyone like to try some Salvia Divinorum?” As the blue smoke dissolved into the orange sky we cried with laughter. Everything became clear, an awesome understanding blotted out my monkey-mind and filled me completely with a sense of ecstatic contentment. The sun went down as the shrooms came up. STRONG. I walked through tents of unknown depths arranged in misty but perfect geometries towards the palpable sounds and entrancing visuals emanating from some impromptu late night party. I danced like a marshmallow ballerina on steroids, like solid liquid playing cat’s cradle with itself, like a young man suddenly become half mushroom trying to make a new face out of curved space. I got lost in a timeless eternity that night. I wandered through the mists of a strange purgatory feeling all I’d been reading become shadowy amorphous blobs in a new reality. My whole life had led to that point. That NOW. That Eternal Plateau. I thought I was never coming back… and in a way I never have.

These are my poems and paintings, my raves and rants, my crystal clarities and utter insanities…
These are the things “Being Psilly” is all about.

With love,
in joy,
explore…

Feathers & Leaves, Earth & Sea...

DRAWING

• Buh! Ding! Buh! Da!
• Psychedelic Pin-up
• you wanna be a shaman baby?
• Trust the Medicine!

FILM

• You Win

NOTEBOOKS

• 1999

PAINTING

• Mandala Paintings 1999-2001

POETRY

• yoUtopia
• Thin-King of Games

PSILLY.ORG

• Psilly Organisation circa 2002

RADIO

• Psilly on Lilly

Dream: 29th May 2006

Dream: 3rd November 2005

3rd February 2006 (Part 1)

3rd February 2006 (Part 2)

you wanna be a shaman baby?