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THOUGHT UP IN BARRIE. BUILT IN PETERBOROUGH. THRIVING IN TORONTO.

In 2001, Cole Everdark (Chenard) hit the frozen ground of Barrie, Ontario—an autistic kid dropped into a system designed to break people like him. Misdiagnosed, dismissed, and dragged through an education system that wouldn't understand him, Cole turned every hit from life into rebellion, art, and resolve.

By 2019, weed cracked the door; LSD blew it off the hinges. From Peterborough to Barrie, through love, heartbreak, overdoses, and near-death experiences, Cole became more than a survivor—he became the architect of a movement.

It was December 22, 2019. The clock hit 11:42 PM. Something clicked. In the haze of hallucinations and high voltage emotion, 1142 was born—not as a brand, but as a rejection of every broken thing the world told Cole to accept.

1142 became a vortex of content, color, chaos. It was art, but also war. Music, research, design, soul-baring videos, blunt science. It fought back against shallow platitudes and sanitized disability discourse. Even after COVID tried to knock him out—and a necro hyponemothorax nearly finished the job—Cole kept building.

St. Jimmy: Phenidate is a hallucinatory post-apocalyptic thriller where fiction becomes prophecy. It begins as a scrappy high school film project—Jimmy and his friends joking their way through a DIY monster movie about a dangerous black liquid invented by scientists. But when the real ferrofluid escapes a government lab, mutating into intelligent, explosive, metal-shifting predators, the joke ends.

From the wreckage emerges St. Jimmy. Not a costume—an exorcism. Draped in black, eyes burning with grief and voltage, he's the antihero born from everything the world took away. Fueled by vengeance and Ritalin, by heartbreak and hash, he moves through clouds of vapor and static like a ghost with a grudge. He's waging a one-man war on synthetic demons—both the ferrofluid monstrosities that stalk him and the opioid plague that haunts the survivors.

1142 is just getting started. Cole's research—ripping into oxidized methylphenidate, amphetamine neuroprotection, and beyond—is dropping soon on 11-42.ca, backed by real data and zero apologies. Coming with it: St. Jimmy: Phenidate TV, a black-market broadcast from the brain's edge, where science meets street-level storytelling. The store's coming too—gear and tools built with purpose, not fluff.

Stay loud. Stay strange. Stay dangerous.

11-42 started out of necessity—out of a moment when Cole was desperately searching for meaning, and found it through a trip that changed his life. It all clicked one night while alone, high on LSD, and watching the clock. When it hit 11:42 PM, something deep inside shifted—it felt sacred, electric, timeless. That number stuck, burned into his mind like a vision he couldn't ignore.

Cole stayed in that trip until 11:42 AM the next day, and in that window, he found clarity like never before. It was a spiritual jailbreak—a portal from confusion into understanding, from fear into freedom.

From that moment on, Cole made a vow. Every 22nd of the month, he would return to that place, drop acid at sundown, and stay in the experience until the morning light. No alarms, no interruptions—just thoughts, the cosmos, and the molecules that helped tap into something ancient. It became a ritual. And eventually, it became a movement.

He didn't want to keep this to himself. He wanted others to experience what he had, to know that there's still a space in this world for thinking freely, for tripping safely, for exploring without fear. So he started sharing the experience—through real-life conversations, online platforms, and eventually 11-42.ca.

Over time, 11-42 became something bigger than just one person. People began syncing their trips with Cole's, observing the sacred 11:42 window, and it turned into a global movement. What started as a personal search for meaning grew into a space for people to explore, expand, and heal. Together, they created a new kind of holy day—a celebration of psychedelic clarity that rivals the significance of 4/20.

The journey hasn't been without its challenges. There were haters, imitators, and those who tried to silence the movement. Yet, Cole pushed forward, even when his prescription was taken away and he found himself traveling from city to city just to stay alive. After enough support, after enough believers and followers, his prescription was finally reinstated in Barrie, and the 11-42 movement could continue.

The early days of 1142 were defined by raw experimentation and the search for a language that could bridge the gap between neurodivergent experience and scientific inquiry. It was a time of rapid prototyping, where every breakthrough was documented in real-time.