The Cruise Ship as a Spiritual Experience: With notes on Vegas.

Nothing says Enlighted, like lining up at 10 PM for a slice and beer.

I previously wrote about The State Fair as a Spiritual Experience.

You can read that here.

As Substacks Premier Gonzo Reporter - I will now write about The Cruise ship as a Spiritual Experience. I grow almost all my own food, on my mini farm, have 9 chickens, eat all organic, my house is free of all scented and toxic non- earth friendly products and I bake my own bread.

I don’t have a phone. I don’t wear shoes unless forced to.

I don’t shame people for their bad food or life choices, but when I go to peoples houses, parties or barbeques, I calmly refuse all food without saying why.

When they weirdly apologize, I say “There is no Judgement here.”

but…to my shame I did once made a visitor eat his McDonalds in his car.

I was once way worse that Im am now. If that’s even possible.

Peak hippie spaz was achieved when I had fallen in with a crew of hard core tree huggers in Victoria Canada. All it took was one vegan potluck for me to code switch from the life of a redneck roofer that lived on Filterless Clove Cigarettes, Vodka and Tim Hortons to my old hippy Kiwi self, veteran of the Mid 90s commune scene.

GUIDED LEAF.

What I’m more into than subcultures and ideological onanism- is SURVIVAL … and having interesting times while trying to help people live a better life in their own estimation.

I have been and done so many things, I will just adapt to whatever is going down. On last count I had done 37 different jobs.

FROM THIS:

TO THIS :

If you cannot BE like those you want to hang with you will not be hanging with them long.

At my hippy peak in BC Canada 2003 me and the crew, tried to live only on what we could forage, hunt or dumpster dive.

#freegan

On the rare chance we had to buy something, no packaging was allowed. Many of them carried their own glass jars and string bags with them at all times.

I once mistakenly asked if going to restaurants were allowed?

The type of boho farm to table - paper straw super eco sustainable eatery that exists now, barely existed back then… so the answer was a definite NO, followed by a punishing lecture about the waste generation and planet killing antics of the restaurant industrial complex.

I held these ideals as long as I could.

I remember the day they shattered.

February the 14th 2004.

My wife’s boss had bought us a cheap ass honeymoon trip to Vegas.

Treasure Island.

It was on the strip that day where the last shreds of hippyness I had went into the giant garbage trucks that continuously circled the strip, and expired.

It was a three stage mental collapse for Kiwi hippie me.

Never in my life had I seen such a bloated Baal, Mammon, Consumerism confluence.

First stage: was seeing thousands of little cards on the streets with hooker pictures on them.

Prostitution is Legal in NZ, I grew up with it as part of life, but it’s regulated, with taxes and health check ups, and there is a modicum of class. It’s tucked away, and has been a real part of our society from its beginning…. Sex is not the garish economic beast I have seen it displayed as in the USA.

This Vegas hooker card thing was a horrendous invasion of plastic tits and asses scattered in the gutter and being pushed into my newlywed face…

Second stage: was seeing hordes of poor Mexicans, old mamas, young girls, teenage boys and old men handing out these hooker cards to tourists! Who would then throw them on the ground.

I had never seen anything like that. Even littering shocked me.

I had been sheltered, by living in socialist countries with welfare safety nets and closed borders that up till now, prevented me from experiencing this grimness.

My new wife explained the entire concept of illegal immigration, Mexicans, their struggle and hustle. Also talking to me about the trails of her own Portuguese grandfather, jumping off a whaling ship in California in 1910, at 15 years old.

I had been stuck in Canada waiting 11 months for a Fiancé visa. paying 8K to get in legally…

I could see now how my “struggle” wasn’t even an option for these people.

As I was reeling from the above mental implosion I was hit by the third stage:

Bloated fat pasty and sick looking Americans staggering, screaming and drunk down the strip with giant plastic, rainbow booze filled Margarita goblets, adorned with flashing lights, pinwheels and spiral straws. To be consumed and then the remaining planet destroying plastic ensemble to be thrown onto or near an overflowing rubbish bin.

Now I saw why there were so many garbage trucks circling the strip.

They were just taking all this trash and riding it out of town to be hurled into a massive pit somewhere.

Fuses blew in my brain.

For the last 8 months, I had been carefully recycling everything and not buying anything that had any wrapping or packaging of any kind.

I was washing jars and saving them… composting. Picking up trash off the beaches and streets…

I had been hanging with vegans so vegan they didn’t eat anything that cast a shadow.

I realized that if me and my hippy mates did all we could to reduce, reuse and recycle for the next 10,000 years we wouldn’t even make a dent in the trash that Vegas and its demented beast children produced in one second.

I just gave up right then and there. BAM. I was out.

I went directly to the Caesars Palace Bacchanal Buffet and over ate every day.

I Gamified getting free drinks while grinding it out at the low stakes Holdem tables like a Kiwi Matt Damon . One night I had 14 Martinis and left up 280$.

Is that winning or what?

I bought shit with packets. Drank from plastic water bottles and then threw them at the overflowing bins.

I just utterly gave up.

The beast won.

Over the next few years I evolved into 210 lb blob.

When we got back home to Sacramento I discovered the joys of Dining out in America. Red Lobster, TGI Fridays, Thai Food, Indian Food, PF Changs… three of four times a week for years.

That will do it.

I finally got myself back under control on a trip back to Australia and New Zealand which then precipitated moving my entire family into the Outback and living on roo, goat and rabbit for months on end.

BEFORE AND AFTER: 210 Lbs to 170 lbs.

I started gardening and stopped worrying about it all so much and became the change. This book helped a lot.

https://buildingabetterworldbook.com/

So… What was the point of all the above backstory…

Well… I’m writing this as I begin my cleansing fast as my wife and I drive home from our five day cruise ship mini break.

If you’re waxing spiritual, scenes like Vegas or Cruise ships can get you down…but I implore you to treating it as a spiritual experience.

One of my mentors said….

“Together we are all on a journey called life. We are a little broken and a little shattered inside. Each one of us is aspiring to make it to the end. None is deprived of pain here and we have all suffered in our own ways. I think our journey is all about healing ourselves and healing each other in our own special ways. Let’s just help each other put all those pieces back together and make it to the end more beautifully. Let us help each other survive.”

I talk to everyone I can, interact… bring joy…. Vibe and love.

I now seek out and purposely crawl into the belly of the beast.

Always a proponent of our boy Byron. "The road of excess leads to the palace of wisdom...You never know what is enough until you know what is more than enough."

A low budget cruise is a bit more intense than the state fair, and thus able to give one more wisdom.

The Cruise. What I learned…from my deep dive of friendly prying.

It’s mostly overweight lower middle class grinders from the Midwest and Southern states and Canadians. Asking around I learned many people saved up for the trip and it was a special occasion. They hunted for the best deal they could.

They bring their families and often their crew of friends and go all out.

Many of them are in debt, paid for the cruise on a credit card and give no fucks.

A lot of people joked that due to the inflation and prices of food / restaurants, they have fully stopped going to restaurants and now instead just go crazy on the cruises.

Going on a cruise so they can eat at restaurants… there’s some sort of logic there somewhere…

I would say it’s about 30% overweight, 30 % badly overweight and 20% obese ( like waddling, or using a scooter thing. Also 10 % healthy gym people. 30 % tattooed…but no piercing people, punks goths or metal heads.

The white people were like country and western people mostly. Rednecks. My people.

20% black, 10% indian, 10% spanish / latin’s / mexicans or whatever you call them.

And of course one Kiwi hippy in shorts and socks and sandals smiling at everyone like a beatific spaz.

It was a melting pot of happiness. I saw not one harsh word or raised voice.

Perfect manners all round. Friendliness and kindness shown to and by all.

It did not seem like high class thing full of super educated people…I doubt any knew what subsack was…or spent much time reflecting on social issues…

I didn’t see anyone reading…

I wasn’t there to talk to overeducated opinionated know it alls. I have you guys for that.

I was there to soak in the essence of Americas chosen sons and daughters.

So we are on this gigantic floating entertainment center being served by an army of slim brown people. Who are super happy to have this job. It weird how happy they are, and they are indeed happy. They make 500$ a week, but with all board, food and flights home at the end of their punishing 11 month contacts paid.

I tip my room guy 200$ at the START of the Trip. This really messes with his head.

It cuts through so much stress and anticipation for the poor dude.

You have never seen more joy and relaxation hit a being, than a 33 year old Indonesian cruise ship room cleaner, with three kids that he sees 2 months a year getting high fived with two crisp benjamins on day 1.

I talk to every single one of the staff about themselves and their lives until they start getting a hunted look and start glancing about to see if their masters are watching them and pushing them to get back to serving or cleaning.

I have interrogated them at length to see if they are really happy with their jobs… and I found that every single one of them was.

The shows are good, the food is good. People are happy…

Well… as happy as people slowly dying in the matrix tanks can be…

I love being a hippy and living on my farm, but you can’t lose track of humanity and just stay working in the garden all day and commenting on people’s substack notes all night

You have to get in there and connect.

I learn just as much on spiritual retreats as I do in the belly of the beast.

So…. 5 days on that cruise ship pounding down a breakfast, brunch and lunch buffet topped off with a high end fine dining meal at night.

On day 2 I started waddling down from my room to line up with the fatties for a couple of pizza slices, a beer and a bit of cake at 10 pm.

No shame. No judgment. Just eating pizza and cake at 10pm like a team of bloated bosses. Wall-E ship for the win.

The food is the diametric opposite of my normal diet.

All non organic, a sea of GMOs, battery farm and feed lot rage meats.

The vegetables screaming with pesticides and all of it slathered in sugary sauces.

The mixing of all the seafood and meats… as well as the rich desserts, churning away in my pure guts like an unholy brew.

We normally eat what I grow in my massive organic garden and only organic or wild meat or seafood.…

BASICALLY THIS:

My body went into total shock after the first meal.

I think it’s good to shock it now and then.

Show it whos boss. Stop it craving Kale and Avocados and smack it about a bit.

After 24 hours my wife and I started farting almost constantly.

When these farts started we actually thought there was something wrong with the ships sewer plumbing, I even went into the bathroom and sniffed about… only realizing to my horror that it was us on reentering the bedroom.

Then we realized it was us.

I told my wife that her new name is Sally Sewerpipe - so much like septic sewer gas they were. Surprisingly she did not like her new name…

We opened up the balcony door and it stayed open for the rest of the trip.

The hang time of these farts was incredible. Like 20-30 minutes.

I tried to handle the farts with herbal bitters and peppermint tea, but they were way beyond simple herbal remedies.

Usually a person loves their own brand… but not this.

This chuff was actually burning my eyes and nostrils and I started visibly flinching on olfactory contact.

We couldn’t even tell who’s farts where who’s after a while. It seeped into our clothes and the bedding… it was horrific…

Every hour we had to go for a walk to give the room time to air out… I would desperately try not to fart around people too much.

This was was almost impossible.

I was like the Quality Control Section of a Bagpipe Factory.

I farted in the elevator once, just before a family got in and we fucking ran out in shame as soon as the door opened and hid down the back of the boat helping propel the ship along with our incessant farts.

Now I’m home fasting, putting the finishing touches on this tale.

Im better, wiser and enriched with experiences and life from getting in there amongst it with my fellow cruise ship humans.

I implore you to out there and fart it up.

Thank you for reading.

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