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Marinating the Meat Machine.

“Drugs may have spoiled us by the ease with which they deliver us to particular states of consciousness, making us less apt to develop natural techniques to achieve those same states,” Larry began. “We text rather than talk now because it is in many instances easier, more convenient, and considerably less threatening than talking over the phone or even that archaic face to face stuff. And talking isn’t really difficult in and of itself — changing your mind most certainly is. Drugs? Drugs are easy. A pill here, a toke there.”

“Perhaps in that sense drugs have spoiled us, but then drugs have also enslaved us,” Brian said, “like our natural neurochemistry, as an easy example.”

“What?” Larry barked. “Are you high?”

“Irrelevant!” He shouted back defensively, slapping his hands to his chest. “I did not order this meat from some existential menu, nor the state of the ground-up burger marinating in my beefy gourd. By utilizing drugs we are tinkering with the chemistry set already in our skulls — which did not come equipped with all the chemicals to serve our needs.”

“By that you mean escape?”

“Careful. Saying it in such a way might appear to suggest we are living in a prison,” he said. “We only do to our bodies what our bodies do to us. In doing so, we contribute to the shaping our identity and experience. It’s not an escape — at the most intimate level it is participatory. A step towards metaprogramming. We help guide the hand that molds us. We can learn to customize mind and identity. We can summon states, however bound that magick may be to chemicals provided by sources other than our oven-baked meat sacks. Alchemy for our fleshy temple means we forge the very mould of our souls!”

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