Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Pepper the Friendly Crocodile

Once upon a time there was a crocodile named Pepper. She was a nice girl, and she was very lonely. Every time she tried to make friends with people ... they ran away.

Pepper would wait in the water or the bushes until people got close. She knew that elocution was important, so she would do her best to enunciate when she ran toward them.

Unfortunately, an enunciating crocodile looks the same as a hungry, rampaging crocodile to most people. Snap-snap-snap go the jaws of the crocodile, enunciate-enunciate-enunciate go the jaws of Pepper. Most people cannot see a difference. Can you?

Then one day, Pepper was so sad she stopped eating. Now, for a crocodile not to eat is very rare. Crocodiles are eating machines. But Pepper only wanted friends and now she didn't care about dinner or lunch or snacktime at her crocodile school where she learned about crocodile decorating and crocodile home economics (if you need seventeen baby zebras to survive, and you can only afford to eat ten, what else can you eat in order to make it to next month? Flamingos! Good, Zanzibar. Pepper? Why are you so gloomy? Eat your flamingo ...)

After school, Pepper decided she was going to run away. Or crocodile crawl away very quickly. She left home and didn't leave a note. And she never wanted to come back. She snuck onto a train, she snuck onto a plane, she snuck into automobiles and she snuck into elevators. She piloted a dirigible and she slid down the cement slide at Cordornices Park, a park she was pleased to note had been there since 1915. Crocodiles are not known for their appreciation of historical information, but Pepper was different in many many ways.

Pepper tied a rope to the moon and swung through the Zodiac. She charmed an elephant out of a tree. She learned the Druidic Tree Alphabet and became a shapechanger with Taliesin. She found Merlin sleeping under a well in a forest in Normandy, and he taught her a spell.

This is the Spell Merlin Taught Pepper:

I want to be different and so I am;
By the light of this Full Moon I choose
Change
By the light of this Full Moon I
Transform
By the light of this Full Moon I am
What I want to be, which is:
A vegetarian Crocodile named Pepper,
With Lots of Friends and Happy Times Together!
For the Good of All Concerned, According to the Free Will of All Concerned,

So Mote It Be!

And Merlin and Pepper clapped their hands nine times.

And those nine times echoed in the Akashic Record for all time, helping all others who wanted to change, to positively transform themselves.

And Pepper was instantly hungry for a delicious spinach and tofu salad with raspberry vinaigrette, which is not vinegarette or vineregret, because Pepper was so happy that she might someday have friends.

It was time for Merlin to go back to sleep. But before he snuggled up for a Wizard Snooze, he waved his wand one last time, and a magic map appeared.

"This magickal map," intoned the ancient wizard, "Will lead you to anywhere that friendly animals need your help. Find them! Help them! Tell the truth in a nice way, and soon you will find friends!" With that, Merlin snuggled up in his cozy hidden place, to snooze and snooze as only the best wizards snooze.

And this is how Pepper met Lamby and the Happy Bear.

But that is a story for another time, and now you must go to sleep like the wizards do: snoozing and dreaming by the light of the full-of-sleep moon.

Good night.

Love,

Pepper. The Friendly Vegetarian Crocodile

© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Ganoderma Lucidum, Part II

Night the First:

I dreamed that I was part of a secret brotherhood like that in Guy Ritchie's Sherlock Holmes, and that I entered the headquarters of this order through a theatrical library (wherein there was a workshop taking place, to which I was not invited; this did not matter, as my goal was the library). The transition is hazy, but next I was in 19th Century clothing, as were the two older gentlemen with me; one was a sort of Grand Master, the other of a slightly lesser rank. Mikado and Pooh-Bah for those of you fond of G&S. Anyway, some huge power was building on the altar, a raised dais with a white podium on it. Whoever stood at the podium when the power reached its zenith would be filled with the power. I realized as I stood there that I was the inheritor of this power, it was meant to come to me. Because of my grandfathers and my father. But I didn't want the responsibility, so I stepped down and then the Mikado jumped up there and began to draw the power to him; it was then we realized that he was evil; perhaps we knew this; I think that the Pooh-Bah was wrestling him away from the dais so I could get up there and when I declined, he took his chance. Pooh-Bah and I had to run, because if we were in the room when the power was released, we would have been destroyed. We ran to the door and into the hallway leading to the street. We were in a building in a city, it felt like San Francisco; the hallway was more modern than the room we had been in. The farther we ran, the harder it became to move. This was because the power was building and would hold us unless we reached the street in time. Pooh-Bah told me this. We had to reach the street. We struggled through the energy -- like running in molasses in January -- and pushed through the glass doors just in time. We were safe. And we were outside in what felt like a warehouse district or Harrison Street in SF near the various onramps to the Bay Bridge. The Pooh-Bah fellow seemed to be a farmer, now, wearing both overalls and formal 19th Century ritual garb. We walked over to his beat up vintage blue truck and I think he told me it was best we get away from there, that we would meet and discuss anon. I went to my car, and was buckling my seatbelt -- or struggling to do so -- when I awoke.

Night the Second:
I was going into a building in New York or SF, hard to tell; it was raining outside, lots of umbrellas, may have been NY. Near the Port Authority, but also elsewhere. Anyway, I had an umbrella and for whatever reason was standing in a green marble hallway making silly with the umbrella, doing tricks and making people laugh when Jack Black walked by. In a very nice tailored grey plaid suit. Only he was also Phillip Seymour Hoffman. And his eyes looked like Matthew Broderick's. So I said, "Hey, Jack Black, has anyone ever told you that you should or could play Matthew Broderick's brother? Because it's true. You should."
Jack said, "Oh yeah, my brother? Why's that?"
"It's the eyes, baby, the eyes!"
He was laughing as we both walked into the office where he was headed; it was his agent's, and his agent and someone else with clout were in the lobby of the office talking; when they saw me talking with Jack, I could feel them wondering who I was. I talked one sentence too long, did not introduce myself; Jack Black seemed a little embarrassed by me. I beat a hasty retreat. I tried doing more silly tricks in the hallway, but did not seem to be able to control the umbrella. And nobody was watching. It was very sad. Then I woke up.

Night the Third:
Driving somewhere in a group, very tired on a winding road, I am in the front of a boatlike car (Cadillac?), but I am waking up. Possibly we are caravaning for some theatrical purpose, and there are two people in the back of the car. They are talking to me, and I am very very sleepy. Having a hard time waking up. Nobody is at the wheel, and I can feel the car drift to either side of the road as I struggle to open my eyes and take control of the car. I know that getting my hands on the wheel and my feet on the pedals is going to help wake me up, but I keep falling back asleep -- it is almost like I am lying down in the front seat, fully prostrate, lifting my head and trying to see over the dashboard at first. The more awake I become, the more upright I am. I begin to panic a little, as the car really is veering slowly from side to side on this downhill, winding road which seems to be in a forested coastal area north of San Francisco; Jenner/Point Reyes somewhere like that; as I force myself up and over into the driver's seat, I am awake and I take control of the car as we come down the road to a fork; I turn right, heading inland, further into the winter forest of coastal California: lots of bare branches, some evergreens, misty, hazy; it is either early morning before sunrise of just after dark; feels more like morning. The two people in the back of the car, who seem to be people I know, congratulate me on taking control of the car.
I am in a Montclair-like neighborhood. I am driving down a street and then walking down a hallway in the house which is our destination; it is where we are staying tonight, and as I walk into a room where two beds (one is perhaps a sofa bed), I know that the two women in the room are topless, possibly in panties. I say, "Ladies? Are you decent?"
"We're decent," says Katie, the redhead. "I would say we're more than decent, Edward Hightower, but we're also quite topless. But you can come in anyway, and rate our decent racks." Something to that effect.
I walk in and they are, indeed, topless; both have lovely breasts. But I am very tired and it's bedtime and I get into the bed which is in the far right corner of the room. I lie down, sleepy again and ready to go to bed. The brunette, who is quite lovely and has smaller breasts, is going to crawl into bed with me. She starts pulling the blankets off the bed,
AND I CAN FEEL -- LITERALLY FEEL!!! -- THE SHEETS COMING OFF THE BED, PULLED AWAY FROM MY LEGS AND TORSO! HOLY SHIT!!! Someone is standing at the base of my bed, pulling the sheets off the bed. And --

**snap**

I'm awake, in bed, eyes closed, realizing it was a dream, wondering who is pulling the sheets off the bed. Is it Veronica? No, I can feel her laying next to me. But, wait, I'm still warm in the bed. The sheets are not being pulled off, but I can still feel where they were sliding away toward my feet.

And suddenly I realize how close I was to lucidity.

Ladies and Gentlemen, join me in this experiment. Let me know if Ganoderma Lucidum has this same effect on you and your dreams. Join me in adventurous lucidity, let us explore the uncharted realms of our dreams. These are places no government can legislate, no dictator can control. All things are possible. And if a hot brunette is crawling lucidly into bed with me, so much the better.

***

Update, 1/11/10:

Small dreams last night, nothing amazing that I remember. No lucidity. Spent yesterday doing mundane tasks, shopping, laundry, dishes. Wonder if this has an effect? Perhaps if I exercise every day, my lucidity factor will skyrocket. A worthy addition to the experiment.

© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Ganoderma Lucidum

I was sitting in a tiny seaside cottage in Stinson Beach when my niece's boyfriend asked me if I'd ever had "Gano Coffee". I was slightly distracted, as I had been studying the Peterson Field Guide to Mushrooms in North America, keenly focused on memorizing the physical attributes of the psilocybe cubensis. I asked him to repeat his question, which he did, and I responded truthfully that, no, I had never had "Guano Coffee".

He clarified that it was Gano, not guano. I asked what it was. He said, "It's a coffee made from mushrooms and it gives you good dreams."

This interested me immediately.

Me: "Is it legal?"
Him: "I know it's not illegal."
"How do you know?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure."
"And what's this mushroom called again?"
"Gano."

So I looked it up, finding that there is a mushroom called Ganoderma Lucidum which is safely edible and most commonly found on the trunks or stumps of maple trees. Very interesting. But why is it called Ganoderma Lucidum?

Hard to tell. But this, from Wikipedia, is also very interesting: "Ganoderma compounds inhibit 5-alpha reductase activity in the biosynthesis of dihydrotestosterone." Why is this interesting? Because dihydrotestosterone is the form of testosterone that causes baldness. So if something inhibits 5-alpha reductase activity in the biosynthesis of dihydrotestosterone, that means it stops dihydrotestosterone from working. Drugs that interfere with dihydrotestosterone are used to treat prostate cancer and baldness, among other things. This is the condensed version; more information can be found here.

So: could it be that by taking Ganoderma Lucidum, I might halt or reverse what balding I have thus far experienced, and keep my prostate healthy in the process? Well, since it's a non-toxic mushroom lauded by the Chinese as incredibly benificial for centuries, I am willing to risk it. Commence experiment!

One word of caution: some dihydrotestosterone inhibitors have been linked to Gynecomastia -- men growing boobies. However, I am willing to bet that natural substances, in small amounts, are less likely to cause Gynecomastia than highly concentrated amounts in drug form. I will tell you if I grow boobies.

None of this answers the question of the Lucidum part of Ganoderma Lucidum, however. One website offers the following explanation: "In translation from Latin, Gan- means to glisten, derm- means skin and lucidum- means glittering."

So it that it? It's the mushroom with the glittering skin? Damn. I want lucid dreams! Well, I will take either: a full head of my own healthy hair and/or lucid dreams. And I will keep you, my loyal readers, updated as to my progress.

© 2010, Edward Hightower. All Rights Reserved.