So, I am here at home with the coronavirus quarantine being paid for not going to work. Weird. But I am very thankful to Carlos Slim and his voodoo economics. Things would be a whole lot worse if I had no money to survive. I take care of two teens, one elderly person and two cats. That's a lot of folks to take care of for one fat Mexican.

So my dreams of becoming an ayahuasca shaman were changed by realities and priorities based on my love for certain persons. And I found myself working for pennies in Mexico, and then in the middle of a world-wide pandemic, being paid by the very company that I was bitching about. Talk about a lesson in humility! Still, my plans to give ayahuasca ceremonies seem quite distant, and I have no clue as to how to finance them. I have written dozens of books, none of them sell. I have lots of "value" but I have no clue how to exploit it economically.  And I guess that's the lesson: money matters. 

So, beyond the coronavirus, and the evident and imminent economic collapse due to the pandemic, what is next? There is the lawsuit - which for the moment is in stasis because there is no functioning government offices in Mexico. There is the quest for a couple (romantic) of Bufo Alvarius toads to produce toadlings all over the city and sustainable toad environments. 

There is 5meoDMT and ayahuasca and mushrooms and San Pedro and other things. There is weed. And avocado trees. And music, and theatre and lots of fun stuff to do still on this planet. 

So, I turn on FB and Crimson Sinclair is talking live - just jive. About whores. Funny. 

And I look back and I sigh. Why am I not a millionaire?

Oh, yeah. Psychedelics.