I was smoking away on my special pipe. Smoke the special pipe, smoke the special pipe, smoke the my my mind told me with the greatest possible urgency. I was puffing away puffing away for all I was worth, puffing away like a pure lunatic, puffing away like a fiend. My face was going purple with all the puffing. My hair was standing on end. Smoking to special stuff the very special stuff in my very special pipe. All of this was occurring within a hallucination of course smoking the special stuff that was in the bowl of my special pipe was causing me to hallucinate madly, feverishly, insanely, and the outcome of this feverish hallucinatory process was smoke this special pipe, my mind told me sternly, and yet I knew all along that my mind was a hallucination that came out of the glowing bowl of my pipe. Smoked the special pipe, smoked the special pipe came all the echoes in Istanbul in all of a sudden tumble. Came all the echoes, came the echoes, came the e3choes in a sudden. My ego was clearly fragmenting, which is a thing that often happens to me when I get carried away by my smoking obsession and start smoking my my own smoking. Smoke your own smoking my mind advised me, taking the form of a cliched elderly psychotherapist belonging to one of the older analytical schools. My mind – which was at this point in the proceedings thinly disguised as an old-style psychoanalyst – peered at me over a pair of steel rimmed glasses. You have regressed back to a primal infant modality he informed me, you’re caught up in a bout of pathological incest fixation and you think everyone else is sick when really it was it was you all along. Something will have to be done, of course, the austere authority figure which was my mind told me, in the severest of tones. he was the headmaster of my dreams and I was in detention for ever. You’re very sick indeed, he informed me. It’s a dangerous situation, he told me it’s perilous for everyone. You’re a very sick person. You are possibly the sickest man on the whole planet right now. Words just can’t describe it. You are so sick it’s a national crisis. The emergency services have been called. I smoked faster, realising that I needed to smoke faster, realizing that I needed to integrate the contents of my my psychosis. Smoke faster, my mind urged me, smoke faster and that way you might just be able to stem the evil tide
I was smoking away on my special pipe. Smoke the special pipe, smoke the special pipe, smoke the my my mind told me with the greatest possible urgency. I was puffing away puffing away for all I was worth, puffing away like a pure lunatic, puffing away like a fiend. My face was going purple with all the puffing. My hair was standing on end. Smoking to special stuff the very special stuff in my very special pipe. All of this was occurring within a hallucination of course smoking the special stuff that was in the bowl of my special pipe was causing me to hallucinate madly, feverishly, insanely, and the outcome of this feverish hallucinatory process was smoke this special pipe, my mind told me sternly, and yet I knew all along that my mind was a hallucination that came out of the glowing bowl of my pipe. Smoked the special pipe, smoked the special pipe came all the echoes in Istanbul in all of a sudden tumble. Came all the echoes, came the echoes, came the e3choes in a sudden. My ego was clearly fragmenting, which is a thing that often happens to me when I get carried away by my smoking obsession and start smoking my my own smoking. Smoke your own smoking my mind advised me, taking the form of a cliched elderly psychotherapist belonging to one of the older analytical schools. My mind – which was at this point in the proceedings thinly disguised as an old-style psychoanalyst – peered at me over a pair of steel rimmed glasses. You have regressed back to a primal infant modality he informed me, you’re caught up in a bout of pathological incest fixation and you think everyone else is sick when really it was it was you all along. Something will have to be done, of course, the austere authority figure which was my mind told me, in the severest of tones. he was the headmaster of my dreams and I was in detention for ever. You’re very sick indeed, he informed me. It’s a dangerous situation, he told me it’s perilous for everyone. You’re a very sick person. You are possibly the sickest man on the whole planet right now. Words just can’t describe it. You are so sick it’s a national crisis. The emergency services have been called. I smoked faster, realising that I needed to smoke faster, realizing that I needed to integrate the contents of my my psychosis. Smoke faster, my mind urged me, smoke faster and that way you might just be able to stem the evil tide