David Given Schwarm

This book has some really really good stuff. Unfortunately, it breaks down with Pinchbeck’s sexist explorations of his base sexual desires.

All the tripped out crop circle, calendar prophecy, and other weirdness get caught up in this kind of personal moping about a failed relationship and his criticism of modern relationships–something that he knows nothing about–he comments as a desperate observer, unlike his writing on psychedelics in which he writes with precision, meaning, and clarity.

I did really enjoy this book, but only in parts–it read like a guru in his adolescent phase–Buddha learning the art of love at the hand of a courtesan, or something like that–his next book will be a monster!