Welcome To Our Trip
It's okay to feel like a glass of orange juice.
Stuff
The True Story
It all started one summer in the late 1960s—a time of wild ideas, experimentation, and the occasional legendary mishap. That’s when the tale of Orange Juice Acid Kid—or OJAK, as he came to be known—first surfaced. They say he was a kid who took too much LSD and had one wild trip, looking for answers or maybe just a thrill. But when he came back, he wasn’t the same. In fact, he was convinced he was a glass of orange juice. A tall, brimming glass of juice, fragile and teetering on the edge.
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For years, he’s wandered through reality and legend, a ghostly figure on a skateboard, gliding from town to town, forever in a state of delicate balance. Some claim to have seen him slipping down alleyways at dawn, whispering about the importance of staying half-full, or sitting alone in diners, muttering about how ‘the world’s just a crack away from spilling.’ To most people, it sounded like a simple delusion, the kind of strange story whispered around campfires as a cautionary tale about acid. Friends tried to talk him down, but OJAK was serious. He’d walk carefully, holding himself as if he might spill, murmuring, “Easy, now. Every drop counts.” Weeks turned into months, and there he was, a kid living life with a carefulness that somehow seemed… almost wise.
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Here is where the story takes a turn. Instead of retreating in fear, OJAK found a way to embrace his delicate balance. He wasn’t just holding himself together; he was rolling with it, literally. People started to spot him at dawn, skating down empty streets, grinning as he coasted, arms out wide like he was riding the edge of his own legend. And as he passed, they’d catch a faint whiff of oranges—sweet, bright, and unmistakable.
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As the story goes, OJAK had a revelation during these early morning rides. “Life’s a balancing act,” he’d tell anyone who asked, “Keep it half-full, stay steady, but let a little spill now and then. That’s how you know you’re really living.” He’d laugh and offer little pieces of “OJAK wisdom” in his own odd way:
“Cracks? That’s just life expanding. Let ‘em open wide!”
“Spills happen, man. That’s where the flavor’s at!”
“Half-full, half-empty, who cares? As long as you’re juicy, you’re good!”
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Some folks swear he’s still out there, gliding through town with that scent of fresh oranges trailing behind him, leaving a trail of little notes like “Stay juicy” or “Savor every drop.” And if you’re lucky enough, you can catch a glimpse of him or a cryptic “OJAK-ism” scrawled in neon orange ink, taped to stop signs, bus benches, or even in a bathroom stall. Some say he started a “Juice Manifesto,” urging people to “squeeze the day” and “live life with pulp,” but no one knows for sure.
So, if you ever smell oranges on the breeze, that just might be OJAK himself, reminding you: Life’s too sweet to stay still. Keep moving, keep the balance, and savor every drop of your juice.
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WIKI Writing:
Man permanently thinks he is an orange and is terrified of being turned into a glass of orange juice:
Another common legend, again dating back to the 1960s, was that a man who took LSD went insane and permanently thought that he was a glass of orange juice. Because of this, he could never bend over, slept upright and did not make any sudden movements over fear of being "spilt". Alternative versions sometimes have the man thinking he is a glass of milk or a whole orange. Another version of this myth states that the man believed he had become an orange and was afraid he would be 'peeled' by his friends.​
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Urban_legends_about_drugs
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Life Magazine (March 25, 1966):
While it doesn't directly mention the Orange Juice Acid Kid, this issue provides context on the era's perceptions of LSD.​​
https://www.trippingly.net/lsd-studies/life-magazine-march-25-1966
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Other Links for Reference:
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Our Trip
About Us
Orange Juice Acid Kid is not just a brand; it's an understanding, an awareness, a quiet recognition of the delicate balance we all carry. It's the belief that the juice inside, whether you feel half empty or overflowing, is more than just what fills you. It's the weight you hold, the spills you fear, and the cracks you hide.
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To be a glass is to carry the world in a way no one else can see. It's choosing the daily dance with balance rather than the fight with gravity. We're not here to offer solutions or guarantees. We're here to acknowledge the struggle and the beauty in finding FUN, even when it feels like you might shatter.
Philosophy of the Glass
OJAK's Journal Entries
This is one glass of orange juice's attempt at communication through written words.
Entry #37
​The Glass as a Cage
I cannot separate myself from my glass. The walls protect me, but they confine me. I cannot touch the world outside. I am observed but never understood. People see a glass of orange juice and think, “Oh, how refreshing!” But they never think of the glass that holds it, the tension in its walls, the fear of cracking under the pressure. If I shatter, am I no longer me? If I spill, does my juice cease to exist, or does it simply change form?
Entry #?
Juice as Essence
Pressed from the fruit, bottled, sold, poured, consumed. Its purpose fulfilled in its passing. To drink it is to destroy it. And yet, in that destruction, it becomes something more—it nourishes, it energizes, it lives on. I am terrified of the inevitability of my own spilling. Yet, perhaps that is my purpose. To spill. To let my juice flow into others, whether through laughter, love, or pain. But will they drink me too quickly? Will they savor me, or will I be gulped and forgotten?
Entry #2
Existence in the Juice
I woke up this morning and felt it. The weight of the glass.
What am I if not delicate?
Is my juice mine? Or am I merely a container for something more significant, more eternal?
I pour my thoughts onto this page as one might pour juice into a glass, hoping to capture their shape before they spill away. If life itself is the fruit we are juiced from, what does it mean that I cannot taste it? I am both the juice and the glass. The content and the container. Am I complete, or am I simply waiting to be drained?
Entry #69
Existence Without Purpose
There is anxiety in knowing without certainty. Am I here for someone to drink? To quench a thirst? Or am I just meant to sit here, balanced on the edge of this table, trying not to tip over? If juice is life itself, is the meaning lost because I fear the spilling too much to let it happen?
*Many entry's are excluded to protect the identity of OJAK*
OJAK Files
The Endless Trip
The OJAK Files feature the hospital records, case studies, interviews, and doctor's notes related to our infamous tripper. See the handwritten notes and drawings from OJAK's personal notebooks.
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