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Ayahuasca: The devil called me to Peru – Part 9: Frog poison

Happy reunion with the other trippers. We sit in a cafe and I pretend to care about the other’s great journeys. I guess that is a scene I saw in a movie. A dude meets people who experienced something and is interested; my act is to be interested. How impolite to refuse such a game. I am much too scared, much too alone, much too obsessed with being the stoic dude to actually care about what really intrigues me.

Listening to other people’s journeys is a bit like watching football in television; pointless.

I feel somewhat ashamed of the incident back at the camp, but I still believe the shaman is the devil. We meet up with the Viking at a bar. He asks me whether I still believe that the shaman is the devil and I am torn between not wanting to look like a fool and wanting to stand by the truth. I choose the latter.

We have some juice, the others chitchat about happiness and enlightenment and I pretend to somehow be a part of this, torn between my addiction to be nice and my addiction to be an uncaring asshole.


We visit the market in the undercity. Everything smells like rotten flesh, owed to the rain that occasionally washes the organic waste all over the place. There are no containers, just heaps of fetid odor. Some people eat chicken.

The others like all the talismans and touristic bullshit. They buy some of it to take home for friends and family. I would find it silly, if I would not see the downright pure evil in these things. Wrinkled witches walk the streets, passing by sick dogs with tumors as large as hands, waving around their dark nets with blue, red, violent streaks of interwoven madness. Tokens of the devil to attach your soul to, to make you come back, to corrupt you totally.

The blonde girl who once called me nervous puts a headband around her head. She asks me if Ilike it. I say it looks silly, but I tell her she must not worry, because I do not like her anyway. A neg. Tada. Yes, I am a slow learner in these matters. She seems hurt and vulnerable. I like it. I indifferently say something like Nah, just a joke to calm her down. The truth is, I do not care either way.

The guys and girls walk among all the stands and act all curious about tobacco and shit. When they pass an artist and see an image they like, they start explaining how it touches them et cetera. I am bored.

The blonde says I could visit her at her hotel, come for a swim, before she leaves. I think of more than swimming. The idea makes me happy and sad at the same time, because I do not dare to even imply I am sexually interested. I am not even sure I am. But I am much too ashamed of my sexuality. I say yeah, maybe, cold as usual. I hope she will ask again, because I know I will not. I am too afraid to give her even one little finger and risk rejection.

In the evening, we sit at the bar again. The Viking talks to a beautiful girl, I am envious like mad. But I am protected at least, protected by a thick coat of not even trying. I sit on the couch and let everybody talk with each other. I act uninterested. Or is my mere presence an act of faking interest at all? I ask the clerk to give me a book I do not care about and start reading. The blonde tries to start conversation and I give short answers. She seems disappointed. I like it. It means she cares at least a bit. More than me. Better if she is disappointed, better than if I was. She turns away. Good. Better the bad guy than the loser.

Frog poison and feelings of abandonment

Later we walk down the boulevard and see the Viking and the thick manly dude with the damaged leg. This is Peter Gorman, the Viking says. I do not even pretend to care. The others do more so.

Peter Gorman offers us a ritual with frog poison. He says it is very painful. I say I like pain. As long as it is not psychedelical pain. He says it is not. Sapo frog poison. He says it will last 15 minutes and feel like death, afterwards I will be cleansed and experience clarity. The others are somewhat hesitant. I am eager to do it. That is who I am these days, the suffering warrior with the sunburn, blisters, devil visions. I like the idea of death-like pain. Way to prove myself.

The girls act impressed. I wonder why. It is a natural choice, following my curiosity, my wish for pain. Their meaningless admiration makes me proud and I exacerbate with my demeanor how little I care.

The Viking helps with the procedure. A stick is burned at one side, then used to burn away the top layer of skin on my right arm, exposing the capillaries. Thus, it is an intense but not dangerous endeavor.

Peter Gorman spits on the stick, providing amino acids for the poison or something like that. And making it sticky and fluid. They put it on my arm.

Blood starts pumping into my face, a hot sensation. Cleaning the blood vessels, Peter Gorman says. My eye lids become swollen, well, actually my whole face becomes red and swollen. It feels weird and painful, throbbing. I become nauseous. This I hate the most, nausea. Give me all the pain in the world, but fuck your nausea. My whole body is hot and throbbing now. It does not exactly feel like pain, but very uncomfortable. Like losing all energy at once and being eaten up by poison. Well, what did I expect.

The girls take a photograph. Souvenirs, tokens, photographs. Bitches must have something to remember. Great. I do not care, I want only my own memory.

On the picture, I myself look very much like the devil. My whole face looks different.

I can not take it anymore and go to the bathroom. I ate too much, my usual sin. They give me water and paper. I vomit into the toilet. The water supply does not work – thus the water they gave me.

The horrible thing about this situation is not the pain. It is not the nausea. It is a profound sense of loneliness in face of all these things. I feel like there should be some love, something to buffer the horridness of the way I feel, but there is nothing. There is just emptiness. Emptiness and pain and nausea. It is neither glorious nor heroic, it is simply pure existential terror. A sense of absolute abandonment while the intensity and globality of the pain makes it impossible to dissociate from it and think of something else.


Afterwards, everything is clear. The sounds of the surroundings split into many layers and the other guys claim they can see streaks of light of the boulevard lamps. That is nonsense, of course. We are merely consciously seeing the abberations of our eyes.

And it is not like the world has changed. It seems more like I suddenly remember to be conscious of all the little details, to perceive all the information that my senses give me. The colors seem more nuanced, supposedly good for the hunters setting after monkeys. If the pain was not glorious, this feeling surely is magnificent.

I feel a strong desire to move now, and my appetite is gone.

I thank Peter Gorman and go back to my Hostel.

The door is closed, but I hear the voices of the girls in another room as clearly as if they were in the same room.

The sound of a motor in the distance separates into two layers. One deep pumping sound and one high, noisy hiss. Together, they are the sound of the motor.

The chatter of the girls is starting to annoy me. I wonder whether to do something about it, but I am even more fascinated by the clarity of the voices.

The cat does not visit me tonight.

The old hag and more frog poison

The next day, me and an old senile idiot and a kid from the retreat meet up with an old hag. I am not sure what she is all about. She is slim, wears hippie clothes and her wrinkled arms are full of scars from frog poison rituals, arranged like crosses and other shit. She carries the kind of appalling traumatized confidence that is a hallmark of those who learned self-acceptance without insisting on happiness. The million cock stare. Attractive in a man are the scars that show his disillusionment perhaps, not in a woman. And much less in an old one.

She makes herself out to be the leader. She knows the city and the people. Oh, well. We meet up with two guys; one of them ooks like he fights. He tells me: You look like you fight. I tell him that I started. We sit at the eating table and somebody is selling souvenirs again. Little ceramic hands. One of the hands is a fist with two extended fingers. The dude who looks like he fights mischievously grins at me and makes a gesture of two fingers in a girl’s pussy. I enjoy it and grin back, but I do not feel connected to it. I am ashamed of this side of myself, of its inexperience and I doubt my right to express it, even if I do that on the surface.

We meet up with Peter Gorman again, for another session of frog poison.

This time, we meet up at some off-hand place. There are many weird places here. At some, you can supposedly fuck children. There are grafittis on the walls about it, angry grafittis. Let us hope those children have tits already.

The old hag and some other people gather around in a circle. The ritual begins. This time, I get three dots. I already forgot the pain from yesterday and think this will be easy.

My naivety makes it so much harder. I run to another room and vomit on the way, on my shoes. It is so unbearable – the loneliness, my god, the loneliness – that I start to cry. I feel, I know. Know there should be something. A sense of a father who looks over my shoulder and is proud of me. A bond, with god perhaps, to give it meaning. But there is nothing. There is just emptiness. Darkness. Despair. Not even the courage for longing.

I clean up after myself.


Peter Gorman tells us about magic mushrooms. He says that he might give us some if we go on a boat ride on the Amazon. Looking at the river and the clouds. Despite my bad Ayahuasca experience, I am intrigued. I am a slow learner in these things. Or maybe it is just how pain is. When you are in it, you want nothing more than for it to stop. Afterwards, you forget it and only remember how good you felt afterwards. And you come back for it, again and again.

We meet up with the other girls and guys. The pain and crying has relaxed me. There is a sad and innocent smile on my face. One of the girls says it looks cute and sensitive. I hate it. I am open enough to admit I want to be seen as a man. Why do I feel so ashamed of the wish? Saying it feels like I am disqualifying myself as a man. One of the guys, a nervous one, says he does not care about these things. I wonder why. But not that much.

We part ways and make agreements for a meetup for the magic mushroom tour the next day.

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  • Smokingjacket

    Do you believe in the actual Devil as a spiritual entity or have you experiences in Peru shown you that this is a part of yourself?

    • Good question, hard to answer. Firstly, I can of course not know whether that which I saw was that which others call Devil. Maybe that which I saw was a part of me, but the Devil nevertheless exists. Hard to tell, right?

      But that which I saw, I believe to be a representation of the emotion of shame. Hence, whatever you feel ashamed of, seems to ‘belong to the devil’. Civilization shames violence, sex, disobedience, etc. So, in a symbolical view, the devil is mentally sculpted in this image.

      This is tricky because it makes one conflate all the things one is ashamed of into one concept – shame itself. One can mistake ‘I am ashamed of overeating’ and ‘I am ashamed of sex’ together as ‘shame IS an emotion that you feel when you overeat or think of sex’.

      Although the devil here may be a very strong manifestation of shame – what you may call toxic shame. It is like a black dark cloud that has soaked up a part of your personality. To feel it feels like ‘going to hell’, as I described in other articles.

      • Smokingjacket

        When you say “going to hell” I presume like the Devil you are speaking metaphorically like a person giving up drugs describing it as hell and having to face their demons. However, in your case did you ever believe that these states that you experienced in Peru were contacts with real spiritual entities?

        • Yes, I was 100% certain it was the devil and I was close to hell.

          • Smokingjacket

            Did you sense this? You don’t need to answer of course.

          • Yeah, it felt more real than anything I ever felt.

          • Smokingjacket

            So are you a firm believer in a literal Hell and the Devil and, likewise, God after your experiences in Peru?

          • Not at all. I was simply overwhelmed with the extreme strength of the emotions. Nobody else had any vision of the devil. So here is what I believe. I believe that I was a very Christian man in my last life despite starting as an atheist in this one. Thus, those ideas of god and the devil were very strong in me. So, when those perceptions came in all their strength, my mind just puked out the words: Devil. God. Jesus.

            To give this some solid ground, let me also say that nobody else in the group had any divine experiences of that kind. Most people who experience the divine on Ayahuasca have this more Buddhistic kind of experience, it seems. Where they are sucked out into cosmos and then some big warm Divine light comes and fulfills them. Maybe I will have that someday. But yeah, it makes sense that my own past trauma made it impossible to just ‘surrender’, as they say, and let the emotion in.

            It was way too strong – which may account for the feeling of ‘real’ I described. In fact, to put it in context, my first and only time sex I had the problem that I did not feel my dick. Likewise, most of my life, most sexual and violent matters just did not seem ‘real’. Like Hollywood. What does that mean? It means that my lowest chakra that deals with sexual and existential feelings was defective and effectively shut off. Thus all I could feel regarding those things were some superficial emotions from the more higher chakras. But whenever I actually was forced to feel something deep, it totally overwhelmed me, like I described in other articles. So, I always said that fights are not dangerous and all that shit, because my body just shut off all relevant emotions of real fear. It was only when I was confronted with real danger in the real world that my body basically panicked and made me surrender.

          • Micah Geni

            Very interesting answer.
            I think it was a break up, and actually listening to the lyrics of Nick Cave, that had me too notice: Far worse to be love’s lover, than the lover that love has scorn.. Dissociate. Never really give it a go.

          • Smokingjacket

            Great post.

            I understand that feeling of the “real” you mention. I suppose from a different vantage point, but, during times of great contentment I feel and know that the world is both wonderful and trivial and nothing in this world can perturb my will which I know existed long before I was here and will exist after I’m no longer around on this planet.

            During such moments you know nearly all things we take for granted are not real- you know ultimately that you’re indestructible in essence. I’ve never experienced that sense of bodily unreality that you’ve had which must be a bit disconcerting, but, I think you know why this is yourself.

            I was curious about what you said about the Devil. I can’t say that there’s anything or any person that I fear much in life. I go out walking at nights sometimes around hills and mountains by myself, I’ve camped out by myself in remote places, lacked human company for days etc, but, none of these things bothers me. I can’t imagine something where I’d be overwhelmed by fear, except for some of the things you mention which don’t belong to our normal, everyday reality.

          • Disconcerting? Well, I did not know – or remember – anything else, so this sense of intellectual dis-attachment was always part of my persona. In fact, I once got rejected by a girl for being ‘bodyless’. That quite hurt me back then as I had no idea what to do about it. Just thought I was a ‘head person’.

            As for fearing nothing, I think that this is the natural state in sorts. As I am shaking off my trauma, I also stop fearing rape. And yet, when you are in that situation and it actually happens, I think it is just different. Imagine being overpowered by a pack of disgusting men, beaten up and then raped like a bag of meat and filled up with their sperm while they laugh at you and tell you that you are now their slave. Although it is certainly pointless to fear this happening, the emotions that you experience WHEN it happens will almost as certainly overpower you and leave you in trauma where you are oversensitive to any kind of danger until the trauma is resolved.

            Or let us take a different example. Torture. If somebody was to slowly cut your arms or feet or dick off, your body would certainly dissociate from the pain as well and save it somewhere ‘for later review’. As it is just too much to bear in the moment.

          • Smokingjacket

            The trick with fear is not to imagine states that are the exception and which are very unlikely to occur to most human beings. This is where your rationality guides you out of the maze of false fears and images.

            You shouldn’t concentrate such much on the negative exception. There’s nothing to be gained from such thoughts even if they do rarely occur in our world.

          • See, that is how I know you have never experienced anything like that. You would not even think about such simplistic advice then. The whole point is that those emotions are like a tidal wave you try to swim against with one hand.

            Here is what happens: You activate rational thought. You tell yourself that it is improbable. And in that moment, you feel pain in your head. And that pain becomes so strong that you just can not keep thinking that thing. A protection mechanism. The organism simply protests and says: Dude! Do you not remember what happened? Listen to me first.

          • Micah Geni
          • Just read the introduction, but it is exactly what I mean. When you observe this from the outside, you think ‘well, be rational’. But inside that conditioning, it is just: What the fuck man? Rationality? Do you not see that this trigger does nothing?

          • By the way, in my meditations, I basically let my body experience all those emotions it could have gone through to defend itself. Thus I kinda first experience the event as it was, then reexperience another version of it where I am not powerless. Very helpful.

          • Micah Geni

            That is when the “balls” mechanism has to come into play ;)

            You could also rationalize it’s activation.. “What a fuck is there to lose. Its not like I am missing out on a lot, if I dont try..”

            Another one:”Reminds me of episode X back in Today-Y months.. I had the same feeling, but it turned out OK. No problem at all”
            Remember the good times :)

          • Well, your life kinda ‘gifted’ you with the chance to eventually put an end to that bullshit. But without that reference experience …

          • Micah Geni

            Start smaller. Challenge yourself on “minor fears” first.

            For instance, girls. Random conversations lasting maybe only 20 seconds. Enough of those, then suddenly you will be chatting with someone you dont know, an hour, and have forgotten about time. If they “reject” you, just say in your mind: “I dont know what she rejected me. She probably was interested in me, but has a boyfriend, so she was scared of her on emotional vibes I triggered in her”

            Point is. You dont know. Could be 100 differents reasons. Pick a healthy one

          • This does not work for me. I am not sure why. I just do not buy into the motivational crap. What works for me, instead, is to become indifferent to the worst interpretation. I meditate on the worst possible meaning and then, at some point, I just feel nothing about it and do not care.

          • Micah Geni

            But you risk losing the will to try. So to not care, can also be to care.

            Like being “..love’s lover”.. Ending up with nothingness, in an attempt to avoid feeling pain.

            Id say emptiness is pretty much as much pain as one can get

          • Not at all. I just lose the fear of failing. In the end, all that stays is indifference to rejection and the appetite to get some. It is quite understandable why this works: The worst outcome no longer overwhelms me emotionally, so I do not fear it. Thus I do not have to be careful about my interactions, as I know I can take the worst.

          • Micah Geni

            Are you risking anything ? I mean, do you chase girls you’re not really interested in, to avoid the pain of rejection ?

            Does it boil down to the inferiority issue ? In the end, no one is best at everything anyway. There is always someone who is a better player, who is more attractive, who is better high juimper, sprinter etc.. All you can do, is to enjoy the sports and the improvements you make and the lessons you learn.

            If you still follow what you fancy, and manage to not feel hurt after rejection, while maintaining integrity and personality in your attempts, Id say that sounds pretty fine.

          • I found out that most of my life, I was avoiding any kind of real intimacy out of fear of getting raped. It is a visceral response I never understood. I think I told you about it somewhere else. It was like losing the connection to my body when I was close to a girl.

            You may call it inferiority issue, I guess. Maybe it is the correct term. Maybe not. But in hindsight, it truly was not so much fear of rejection. I figure that that fear of rejection is something I will be facing when all this is over. And know what? I look forward to it.

            Yesterday, I watched the movie ‘The Mechanic’. It totally resonated with me, which scared me. The emotional world felt so much like my own. And it was basically about PTSD. Here are symptoms that I found in an article about it that I share:
            – paranoia
            – difficulty maintaining close relationships
            – trouble concentrating
            – overwhelming guilt/shame (remember my article about that?)
            – self-destructive behaviors
            – Avoiding reminders of the trauma.

            It fucking fits like a hammer on a nail. And yet it makes sense I never thought of it. Why would I think of PTSD in a life where I have no memory of something, right? BUT in the movie ‘The Mechanic’, he basically also does not remember what happened. Quite amazing.

            Another movie where I felt VERY much the state the guy was in was American Sniper. When he comes back and is all tense, I could suddenly empathize. Felt like that my whole life. Like somehow on tension without being able to relax.

          • Micah Geni

            I would not call Trauma for inferority issue, but very related.

            A trauma can make you feel as you don’t deserve good. What a fck is that ? Said who ?
            So you think, or may think, “eventually they all will leave me”.. Well so what ? Maybe you will leave them. You dont know. Dont focus on what may happen, but more on what you got. And if you cannot feel Trust, try to avoid to feel Despair and Deception. Which is why I suggest that you just focus on the “here and now”, the next time you’re in the position.

            And the lady has a free will. If you wanna fck her, and she wants to fck you, then excellent. Even if it is jsut a one-time happening. (Remember condoms)

            My father is a king, when it comes to here and now.
            My mother is the opposite.


          • ‘You do not deserve good’ is just a rationalization. Those words actually just distracted me from having to feel the emotion underneath. The words are meaningless and changing them changes nothing. It is much deeper. It is an inability to actually visualize and feel something good. Know how you sent me that happy song and I said it was boring and stupid? That is how it is. Happiness just does not come through to you into that sphere. And here is why: Because happiness is coupled with those emotions you are trying to avoid.

          • Micah Geni

            You must feel as a prisoner, since you avoid them. Because going back the prison, just becomes harder, if you’re in a “happy state”.

            What is your prison ? Id pretty much say society has become one. They way it has been rigged these days. And by all means, it has even been a lot worst, just a few centuries back.

          • The prison is in my head. Or was. The prison was a prison of thoughts. A narrow passageway of thoughts I can allow myself to think. A geek who can allow himself to think about computers and programming, but not about social interactions, as those inspire bad emotions.

          • About the memory thing in ‘The Mechanic’. My world recently does feel a bit like that. Like I am not sure what is real and what is a delusion anymore. That is why the movie resonated with me so much. It is really like I had always been avoiding those reminders of my trauma. I mean, FUCK, I literally never was conscious of it aside from a few weird dreams and so. And in hindsight, my old world seems somewhat hallucinatory, in how simplified and anxiety-inducing it was. I am amazed I even pushed through as much as I did.

          • Micah Geni

            “Arbeid mach frei”..
            Attack the lower chakras, and then any type of work will be perceived as a (anxiety) release… Think about it !. Dirty play

          • Yup.

          • Smokingjacket

            You’re completely programmed by your emotions. I experienced more dark emotions in my life than you child, and, I’ve used my reason and introspection to achieve harmony and balance with my path in the world.

            No, how the fuck could I ever EXPERIENCE anything like YOU. I’m not YOU. Your a fucking exception, aren’t you.

          • I am not an exception. Maybe your genetics have gifted you with the skills to introspect your way out of it. I know that I tried and failed many many times. Why is that? I spent weeks and months forcing myself into positive mindsets and it was a constant fight that sooner or later was always lost. Maybe I may have been more successful if I had had any frame of reference for what ‘normal’ feels like.

            And as for your claims to have experienced this and that, you never talk about your personal life, so sorry dude, if I do not fully appreciate your pains. Cause I fucking know nothing about them. I just see your comments which I usually like and then you spout nonsense about a state I was in for 26 years, like all those other motivational gurus who tell you to ‘just think positive and it is all a choice’. So unless you are willing to put something of yourself into this, yeah, fuck you and your mild-grandpa advice.

          • Micah Geni

            We cannot have it all. The talents. We can improve. It usually helps to take focus off a while, from those subjects that does not come most naturally. Then try again a bit later. Sometimes things happen, when you expect them the least.

            There may be a gap between realism-idealism. Current capacity vs Desired capacity.
            1. Increase current
            2. Reduce desire
            3. Leave em be and just take a walk :)

          • You know, I do not think about girls so much the last couple days. Actually, the more I see them clearly, the more I find sex a bit disgusting. I mean, all those germs and bodily fluids and intimately touching a whole different person from yourself with all her imperfections. Yuck.

          • Micah Geni

            That feeling, comes and goes. Depends a lot on the girl you meet too. Believe me, it can suddenly change. You will literally feel it. As below, so above :)

          • Yeah, I guess mother nature implemented mechanisms to make us forget the disgust about what we are about to do.

          • Micah Geni

            single-mom… Dependecy creation. Enslavement.. Good for a materialistic society. It will make you sort fish and bananas, volunteerly and some even happily, while other run off with the profit of your efforts :) hilarous..

          • Smokingjacket

            A man like you becomes addicted to his own pain. Well, so be it. I was like that once, but fuck that.

          • Fine, man. If you have nothing further to say, you can just as well leave. I am tired of justifying myself. Blame me for being weak and not being able to deal with my pain as heroically as you did, if you need that self-aggrandization and if you need to stand here as a wise ass guru who shares nothing about himself but has all the answers. How is that for your courage? Telling me how to deal with my pain, but not even talking about yours.

            Actually, most of my life I never talked about this stuff because I was too scared to even admit I was feeling this shit. In fact, I was in such an anxious bubble that I mostly was not even aware of my pain. I just pushed all that reminded me out of my sphere of reality. It seemed surreal. To deal with something, you at least have to be aware of it. I was not.

            Anyway. Take care when walking all your paths without fear.

          • Smokingjacket

            I’m no wise ass guru. I’ve failed in many aspects of my life, however, I’ve detached myself more and more from what the world says you are when you fail. That’s the only way I was able transform myself in someone who has a value and meaning in his own right. Well, if you find this a bunch of sanctimonious grandpa advice (I’m only 40 you know!) so be it.

            Likewise, walk well, walk tall.

          • I do not see how this has anything to do with what the world says I am. Here I am, writing about all the bullshit in my life in ways that will repel most people from me; does that seem like vanity to you?

            I value your advice, but you seem to be unable to accept that this particular one should be able to fail in a situation like mine. Yeah, man, maybe I actually experienced something you do not know. I am convinced you likewise experienced a lot of stuff where I could learn from you. But, obviously, you have not been dealing with PTSD, where the shit overwhelms you. Instead, you likely developed – no matter how painful or not – healthy responses to the problems in your life where you come out on top.

            Just for info, may be of interest to you for this discussion:


          • Micah Geni

            And the world says you are what ?

            The Devil ? Proyecting maybe. Partly ?

          • I am not sure. The world does not really speak, does it? The world is a bunch of earth and mud. The people on it have opinions.

          • Smokingjacket

            True, I’ve never experienced PTSD although some of its symptoms seem similar to anxiety prone depressive states which often can develop after traumatic events in a person’s life.

            Anyway, I can’t say much more of value on this discussion for the moment.


          • Fair enough.

          • Micah Geni

            To deal with the pain, Tom, is eventually your responsibility. People can try to direct/influence you, but no one can do the walk for you

          • Yes, good point.

            I think that Borderline is what I was in a sense, the symptoms kinda fit. Makes me think that Borderline may really be a PTSD from a past life. Interesting idea.

          • Micah Geni

            I believe that I was a very Christian man in my last life despite starting as an atheist in this one

            Tom “the twin” the doubter :)

            Listen to this doc about his Gospel.

          • Much too long.

          • Micah Geni

            The name Thomas is derived from the Aramaic or Syriac: ܬܐܘܡܐ‎ Toma, equivalently from Hebrew

            Lot of shit going down in Aramic or Syriac these days, Toma !

            (So dont listen to it all, the video. First 15 minutes will do and they are interesting. Not like the bible)

          • Micah Geni

            A Doubting Thomas is a skeptic who refuses to believe without direct personal experience

            A bit like you ?

          • Definitely.

          • Micah Geni
          • Heard about that stuff.

          • Micah Geni

            INTPs are not so “human” right ? Most human beings, just wanna have fun and hang out with their friends and such..

            What if INTPs are spiritual angels, entrapped since Jesus died, untill the last centuries ? Lets say, since the renesaince and Da Vinci. ? Interesting thought, Toma ;-)

          • Last night or so, I had this overwhelming feeling that I am god. It faded again, but that was quite fun! Kind of ‘these idiots truly are that dumb’.

          • Micah Geni

            he accounts of Marco Polo
            from the 13th century state that the Apostle had an accidental death
            outside his hermitage in Chennai by a badly aimed arrow of a fowler


          • Hahaha. Love how you emphasized ARROW.

          • Micah Geni

            Did you listen to the video ? Practise what you preached :)

            I’ll delete the posts, but there is always youtube and this:

          • Dude, stop that shit. Do not post stuff you will delete. If you want to chat, get Skype or something.

          • Micah Geni

            Good to see you back preaching :)

          • Muh.

          • Some bitch just sent me a message to my Alpha Book Club page. Whether I am interested in some weird romance / thriller novel she wrote. She says she wrote the Hale Series. Wrote her I never heard of it and it sounds like some standard novel shit and I am not interested. I did not say it to hurt her, just as a statement of fact.

            Confidence and integrity is fun, you know. To just say what you think. I bet she is at home swooning over how some stupid bum rejected her, the aspiring novel author with 50 Amazon reviews.

          • Hey, one more symptom of PTSD:
            Aches and pains with no apparent cause

            Life is funny. Many emotions and pains in my life did seem kinda … irrational and not quite belonging to the situation.

  • Micah Geni

    Tom Arrow and then Tom Waits.. 2k years, and Tom is still doubting :)