Dennis Mckenna - Fear and loathing on Ibiza continues - compression session - Part 5

Schwann Cybershaman's picture

So far in this continuing blog: Dennis, Joey and Schwann (online below) have met in Malaga, Spain, then tripped to Ibiza to stay with Richard Wolfe and the Goddesses. “One Night on Ibiza” is the blog directly before this if you want to go backwards, otherwise begin at the blog “Fear and Loathing with Dennis Mckenna on the Costa del Sol”, where it all began.

Schwann: Dennis Mckenna thinks I'm unpredictable and dangerous, and therefore scarier than he is. For the record, this is absolutely false but it's fine by me because I’m just a virus set loose in the mainframe by unknown forces for reasons lost in the promise of time. Don’t tell anyone, OK?

Our paths first crossed In 2004, mostly due to sacred chutzpa. Or you could call it perseverance on my part and faith on Dennis's, inasmuch as he didn't know who the hell I was, just that I was making a movie in which Terence played a part, and that I needed him to play one too. I did not tell him which part, he already knew that, or figured it out by himself, as all real exemplars, wizards and shaman are supposed to do.

By the time we’d woken up again on Ibiza, our time was all but gone, even though it felt as if we'd been here forever, not just two nights. Time is always in the present. Go figure. Auom! No matter, I guess I must’ve got the lion’s share of sleep because Joey is still muttering about me snoring while I’m upstairs chilling on the balcony as Laura, a ritual dancer from LA and a guest of Richard’s, does her morning routine. This includes body movements that seem impossible and somehow make me feel like I’m on another planet and a long way from home.

After what could be some coffee, I eventually gravitate downstairs to update Dennis on what I think happened last night, after we got split up. Like I said, Dennis assumes that I’m crazier than he is so re-telling our efforts of the night before mostly persuades him that he did the right thing by going home, but then he’s not really sure and he knows I know this.

Meantime, Richard and Joey have met in the kitchen and begun a conversation around a bottle of vitamin pills designed to explore the dimensions open to body and mind. More specifically, ayahuasca applied to your mind.

After a while, maybe I only imagine Joey, in continuous loop, asking Richard, over and over, why it’s really necessary to vomit when you take ayahuasca. Dennis offers Joey information on how many frogs George blew up with firecrackers when he was a kid, as a distraction. This is the first time I’ve seen Joey unhappy about Bush, even if he only blew up one frog. Meantime, from the interface, Dennis informs us that he’s just received an email advising him that President Bush’s sanity is up for grabs but it’s already too late because it’s 3.00PM and the day is halfway over, and I’m still after those orange shorts.

The Goddesses’ luggage still hasn’t arrived because British Airlines is def the worst airline you could ever fly, even Naomi Campbell agrees, but that’s another story so going shopping is fine with the Goddesses and it doesn‘t take any time for them to convince Richard to take us to what passes for the mall on Ibiza.

Some time later we’re wondering through and about the old part of Ibiza’s port. Under the castle’s walls, where cutthroats had run amok 300 years ago, and Roman slaves had lined up for perusal 2000 years ago, the alleyways now teem with shops of all descriptions, many of them bordering on cult fanatic. It’s a freak parade in which a different carnival plays in everyone’s head and snippets of different languages come at us in surround, enhanced for confusion by the narrow streets as we go shopping to names like, LSD, CYBERDOG and AMNESIA.

Dennis buys a T-shirt with a 99 second digital countdown on it so that he can set it to the eschaton at a moment’s notice. Copycat, I buy one with a heartbeat monitor; figure I may need it more than a countdown. None of the stuff is cheap but we binge anyway because it’s our last day on Ibiza and we want to get what we can from the frenzy of the moment, which is not inconsiderable, considering that there are two girls with us who’ve lost their luggage and Joey is a major fashionista.

Richard is patient. He guides us to all the cool shops, including the Cyberdog shop, home of his orange shorts. Buying for my three daughters ensures that I end up spending more than anyone else, but it’s really a pleasure as the inside gate of the castle is lit up with green and features a Conan-type person that you can get photographed with. Needing a break, I’d left the cams behind but fortunately Richard snaps a few.

I buy a beer at an outside bar after the shopping is done, but one (large) sip persuades me that I’d better eat first. Leaving everyone at the wooden table, I dodge my way to the castle wall and look down at the streets below till the dizziness wears off. By this time it’s now almost dark. We’re hungry and every restaurant we try is full with long queues. It doesn’t really matter, at least not to me. As Dennis and Joey had already found out, feeding me can usually be deferred, so I can’t remember if we ate, or what we ate, but eventually we’re headed home with our arms full of parcels.

It isn’t that I don’t want to go out again; it’s just that last night would be hard to beat. ‘Beat’ is the word, so it doesn’t take Dennis much to convince me that ‘tomorrow’ is going to be hard enough to get through, even if Joey stops snoring long enough for me to fall asleep. On the up-side, Dennis’s argument convinces Joey to move his mattress into the lounge so that I’ll get some sleep, and thus be able to drive the 600 clicks back to Las Farolas tomorrow, without unduly endangering his life.

It’s already 2.00 AM, so ‘tomorrow’ is just a word used to describe what’s already happening. I rejoice at having the room to myself and fall asleep thinking orange and green thoughts.


Mythmaking and Legend by Mike Kawitzky (aka Schwann Cybershaman)

© All Media. 26th April 2008.