Free The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe Page B

could take a combination of speed and grass and prop that... LSD door open in the mind without going through the whole uncontrollable tumult of the LSD ... And Sandy takes LSD and the lime :::::: light :::::: and the magical bower turns into... neon dust... pointillist particles for sure, now.
    Golden particles, brilliant forest-green particles, each one picking up the light, and all shimmering and flowing like an electronic mosaic, pure California neon dust. There is no way to describe how beautiful this discovery is, to actually see the atmosphere you have lived in for years for the first time and to feel that it is inside of you, too, flowing up from the heart, the torso, into the brain, an electric fountain ... And ... IT-290!—he and George Walker are up in the big tree in front of the house, straddling a limb, and he experiences .. . intersubjectivity—he knows precisely what Walker is thinking. It isn't necessary to say what the design is, just the part each will do.
    "You paint the cobwebs," Sandy says, "and I'll paint the leaves behind them."
    "Too much!" says George, because, of course, he knows—all of us sliding in and out of these combinations of mutual consciousness, intersubjectivity, going out to the backhouse, near the creek, with tape recorders and starting to rap—a form of free association conversation, like a jazz conversation, or even a monologue, with everyone, or whoever, catching hold of words, symbols, ideas, sounds, and winging them back and forth and beyond ... the walls of conventional logic ... One of us finds a bunch of wooden chessmen. They are carved figures, some kind of ancient men, every piece an old carved man, only somebody left them outside and they got wet and now they're warped, which sprung them open into their real selves. This one's genitals are hanging out despite he has robes on and carries a spear—
    —Have you seen my daughter? Claims I embarrass her. Claims the whole world knows I have cunt on the brain. At my age—
    —Yes, sir, we have the report. Your daughter's a horny little bitch, but I am the King and I have no choice but to cut your balls off—
    —King, I'll throw you for them—
    —Your balls?
    -—Right! With those gold hubcaps you lug about there—
    —Right! In fact, incredible. Each one of us has a chess figure in his hand and becomes that character and they are rapping off the personalities they see in these figures, and they start thinking the same things at once. I, too, saw these funny little curves under this figure's hand here, no larger than the head of a tiny tack, as... golden hubcaps... I was about to say it—
    It is the strangest feeling of my life—intersubjectivity, as if our consciousnesses have opened up and flowed together and now one has only to look at a flicker of the other's mouth or eye or at the chessman he holds in his hand, wobbling—
    —You wouldn't believe a girl with electric eel tits, would you, King?
    —The ones that ionized King Arthur's sword under swamp water?
    —The very ones. Dugs with a thousand tiny suction caps, a horny, duggy little girl, I'm afraid, 120 household volts of jail bait if I ever saw one—
    —and how, in the wildest operations of chance, could a term like 120 household volts of jail bait arise in all our minds at once—
    But the swamps, too—it is no longer all Garden of Eden and glorious discovery for the old Perry Lane crowd. In fact, there's a little grumbling here in the magic dell.
    Kesey is starting to organize our trips. He hands out the drugs personally, one for you, and I one for you ... and just when you're starting to lie back and groove on your thing, he comes in—Hup!—Hup!—Everybody up! and organizes a tramp through the woods ...
    After it's all over, some of them ask Kesey for some acid and IT-290 to take back to Palo Alto. No-o-o-o-o-o, says Kesey, and he cocks his head as if he wants to say this thing just right, because it's a delicate matter.—I think you should come here