3-MeO-PCP + MXPr

Age: 24

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 12 mg 3-MeO-PCP intranasal, 40 mg MXPr intranasal

Setting: Around the city

 

This report is more narrative; if you would like to just know what the combo is like, skip to the conclusion at the end. It’s more me recording my memory of a very pleasant night.

Preface: This is a report from an experience I had back in January, don’t worry this is not me tattling on myself about what would be extremely irresponsible behavior in the age of Coronavirus. I had meant to write a report on this but kept procrastinating until I just forgot to do it entirely. I rediscovered my notes from then however. I find this to be an excellent and functional combination for socializing at night (whenever that may be safe again).

I am going to see my best friends play a basement show, they play Emo/Pop-Punk under the banner of “Twin Beds”. Afterwards I will be going to a Lunar New Year celebration with my partner in our city’s Chinatown. I have been looking forward to this night- house shows were always a fun excuse to dress up nice and put on excessive makeup and be around my best friends and flirt with people. And here I am- dolled up, with my patched-up painted-up battlejacket, Gerogerigegege t-shirt, ready to feel cooler and more confident than I normally do. Of course, I can’t do it alone

 

T0:00- I measure out 12 mg of 3-MeO-PCP and snort it in a line before leaving to catch the bus. I have also measured out a dose of 40 mg of MXPr that I intend to dose later, as it has a shorter comeup.

 

T0:05- Oh bummer, I missed the bus. I decide to bite the bullet and pay for a rideshare- the next bus may not get me there before my friends play.

 

T0:10- On the ride over I start to feel the first notes of the 3-MeO-PCP as they usually present. A bit of numbness in my extremities, a slight sense of weightlessness and lightheaded dizziness. Though I am sitting still in a car, I can sense a loss of equilibrium. My heart rate begins to creep up.

 

T0:30- My ride arrives. I awkwardly thank the driver and step out with a buoyant spring in my step. My limbs are at once heavy and light. I feel faint like I’m viewing the world through a screen. I am bubbly, energized and confident. I spot one of my friends in the band outside the venue, pay my cover and go in. The house is absurdly crowded inside, it’s difficult to walk through it. I navigate my way to the basement where there’s a little more space, I find all my friends there and greet them with hugs and pleasantry. It feels like my head is rising and my limbs are drooping. I feel fantastic and can’t help but smile and joke, yet I also I feel awkward and slightly inhibited, like I can’t get my thoughts straight. The lights go out and another friend’s band plays first, I hang towards the back in the dark, taking in the creeping swirling visuals that are beginning to form, dazzled by the little flecks of laser light that dance around the space. The basement grows steadily more crowded as they play, in the dark I feel more confident and self-assured, I want to talk to strangers and make new friends but it’s too loud to hear anyone talk and that’s okay.

 

T0:55- The first set ends, my sweetest dearest friends are going on next. I decide now is the time to dose the MXPr. I am not sure how the college-aged ex-suburbanite DIY emo kids feel about some punked out freak snorting drugs in plain view so I opt to find some privacy. Friends I see in the full light compliment me on my makeup and outfit, it feels good, I feel vain but I don’t feel guilty about it. Sometimes it’s nice to feel nice about yourself. The bathroom is occupied. I opt to go out to the backyard, where I can smoke some weed too. My best friend’s parents have arrived- they have known me since I was 6 years old but we haven’t interacted in a while. They are fairly conservative. This is really funny to me. I sneak around to the back and take my dose. It is chalky and uncomfortable, but that quickly passes. I take a few hits from my one hitter to round things out.

 

T1:10- I am back inside while my friends set up for their set. The drip is starting to crawl down my throat, acrid and unpleasant as usual. I am feeling bubbly and affable, floating around the room like the upper quarters of some restless spirit or a bee flitting from flower to flower. I make small talk and joke with people, whenever I say something it feels as though it’s clattering off to some void but I don’t care enough to follow up. I push my way to the front and do my best to avoid my friend’s parents, I am not in a state to talk to parents right now. I’m buzzing with energy and anticipation, the MXPr feels like a shot through my limbs that turned my bones to viscous liquid, crackling and glistening with colors like an oil slick. The lights shut off and as my eyes adjust, swirls and spirals play in the dark while the spots of decorative lights seethe and expand into the world around them like an inquisitive mold. I’m dizzy and I feel like I am living fully.

 

T1:30- There is a bit of chatter and small talk as they tune and check their instruments, flick on their amps- a sizeable crowd has shuffled in behind me, dimly lit faces all moving and talking and melting and contorting, at once flat alien visages, but at the same time full of vibrant expression, decidedly warm and human.  As they get ready to play and step up to the mic, the crowd’s energy pauses for a moment. I feel like I have the tense energy flaring down my spine and radiating into my limbs, a flicker of turquoise flame. The snap breaks, they break out into the first song, I am dancing and moshing with so many of our friends, shouting along the lyrics. It is so lovely to be so carefree, tossed around, sweaty, and given in to the music, it also feels awkward to occupy this space with my body, to try and gauge and respond to the energy of the crowd- that system seems completely out of commission. I am content to just let my extremities seep and sag, glowing at the edges with luminous haze, I am so sweaty and breathless but the music continues, I know every word and shout them along, as if my being has expanded through my skin to encompass those around me and for the time being we are all one collective set of flickering synapses  basking in the unifying electrifying energy of the love my best friends have for making and playing music that they love to make. I am captivated, a blurred void figure in the dark, shifting around as the walls shift color. I love how visual this is. The combination has really brought our prismatic flares at the edges of everything, I feel like pieces of me are turning to light and rising to the sky, yet I am still all lucid, all in control, a bit uncoordinated. They know how to keep a crowd happy, they know what the people love, it is a brief moment of fiery sweaty and dense exaltation.

 

T1:55- The lights come on, they turn off their amps, I step in to be the first to give them very sweaty hugs, they have to know how hype I’m feeling. Hype is absolutely what I’m feeling, it’s the mania and confidence of the 3-MeO-PCP morphed into a cocky self-assuredness from the energizing sensory experience I just had. I feel awe at this sense of confidence. I am exactly who I need to be where I need to be. The MXPr charges the experience with the fluttery love of novelty, of some extra dissociative weight and flares of visuals in the dark. I socialize more I flirt with people as if they really want to keep correspondence with a manic dissociated gremlin who infodumps about the drugs they’re on or whatever the hell this patch on my jacket means or whatever the band on my t shirt is. I am blurring through this, smiling, nodding, not taking in information but feeling good about talking to people anyway. It’s hard to string together coherent sentences and articulate my thoughts out loud. I have to leave soon anyway. One of my best friends told me I looked like a wastelands raider and it was a huge compliment. I look at my phone to coordinate my next move, the letters rise and sink in the screen and the bright light has absolutely absorbed my focus, as though beams of light have shot forth like ropes to bind to my eyes. It’s just me and the screen right now, no more world. I break out of its spell, bid adieu to all my sweet dear friends, I wish I could’ve stayed the rest of the show or gone to their afterparty but I already had something else planned for this night.

 

T2:20- It’s very cold outside. I’m at the subway station now after a brief walk through the tree lined streets at night. It felt like the world was closing in on me, that outside and inside didn’t really matter anymore. But the 3-MeO-PCP gave me a spring to my step and I burned through the world like a flash of ball lightning. I am dolled up in makeup in my jacket alone in a subway station. I forgot about this part. Some strangers keep casting glances but they mostly leave me alone. I puff my one hitter on the platform and find love in the filthy ceilings, faint dizzying forms unwinding into its apices, of my body shifted askew bit by bit, bounced on the buoyancy of the energy radiating from the surfaces around me. The platform is cold and quiet and still, the only density in the air overtaken by a haze of luminosity of sterile subway platform lights. The ride is delightful as ever, curled up in a seat while people mingle or interact or mind their own business- I catch visuals still swirling on the mottled surfaces, meandering patterns in faint relief. The sounds of the subway as it roars through the tunnels turns my being to gentle warm twisted metal when I close my eyes, my airy dissociative body at the mercy of the currents around me still. I get off at city hall and step into the gaze of the towering night skyscrapers, winking with flecks of light. The ambient light all around flares up with color, shifts off its source and dances and refracts, I am cold and bundled and every step feels as though a luminous gust is carrying me along ever so gently. I am absolutely manic, I want to stop and talk to the first street resident who seems like they might want to make conversation. This doesn’t happen thankfully and I shuffle into the darker more residential tangle of streets. The prismatic light play of before has passed to still swirls and textures breathing in the darkness, their apices blessed by a St. Elmo’s fire. Where at once I felt like I was skipping through gardens of crystalline light and cold concrete and the weight of the winter sky, now I was simply a hooded dirty figure slithering through the emptying streets, cloaked in the shadows and content to be ignored. My partner was at their parent’s house for the night so I go to pick them up there. It’s late, I am still a bit unsteady on my feet and still can’t fully articulate sentences. I feel like I am indoors, contained within my clothes, I feel like I must focus my energy on maintaining this sensory field of pulsing colors around me- I am in no state to stop in for tea or anything. I slink off around the corner and wait for them to come out and meet me.

 

T2:50- It is not but 2 minutes in that they ask me if I am on dissociatives, to which I reply affirmatively. They know me well. I suppose my awkward gait and disjointed speech gave it away. We first head back to my house to drop off our bags, it’s a lovely walk full of dark shadows and immensely bright lights, a constant battle between the two for who can exert their breath on the concrete and steel around them. As we walk I can feel the experience receding more and more, and I find conversation flowing smoothly and more naturally. The night is far from over however, and I want to be in the right state for what’s to come.

 

T3:10- We reach my house, hug and kiss just a little, recharge and have snacks and warm up for a second. I decide to take 2 gravity bong hits in succession to get me back to the proper sensory place for this experience. Midnight approaches and we must reach our next destination. The weed stirs the dust a bit and I set back out in the cold night, taciturn with a vortex of colors swirling about my head. Outside still feels a bit inside and there is still a spring in my step. It is a short walk from my house to Chinatown, we can hear the sound of fireworks and firecrackers and drums as we approach, a large crowd is visible in the distance.

 

T3:30- The entire street is awash in jubilant drunken throngs dancing and reveling in explosions. The residents of Chinatown are poured out onto the streets, joined by masses of what look like college students looking to party. People everywhere are on their balconies or leaning out of their windows, cheering the crowd on or setting off firecrackers. Lion dancers representing various local martial arts schools and their accompanying retinue of students and drum companies occupy the middle of the street, dancing in a frenzy under a constant shroud of small explosions. Everyone is joyous, everything is chaos, I am immediately taken into a sensory daze, the world swirling and spinning around me, its currents picking up the flares of energy that saturate this place like lightning bathing in a whirlpool.

I absolutely love loud noises and acute stimuli. I love sounds that I can feel in my bones, blast waves that rattle their gelatinous trabeculae and vibrate through my softer flesh. I can feel it in my jaw, I can feel it as pulses of tightness around the crown of my skull. The toothy smiles of the people around me rise as standards into the air, joined by the standards of incense smoke and the great standards of every light around me projecting up into the tessellated night. My face is locked in a grin, all I can do is drift and smile. The sky above is so cold, the January breeze spirals off the rooftops, capping the hermetic glow of the windows and apartments below them, red and gold decorations on their awnings, and yet below that swirls of people bathed in smoke and ringed in pillars of sharp noise, the most thunderous and cacophonous of them being an epicenter which we all swirl around, a base chaos of the cold blue asphalt, the bodies in their yellow clothes marching in unison, creeping ever upwards towards sensory excitation like a plant yearning for a thousand suns, the  single heaving breath of light slicing the night into the sky, we are a single mass of fire and revelry, detonation and destruction and the embers that still glow, glittering under the cold violet night, a great length of something strung from our spirits and pockmarked with pops of black powder wrapped in red paper.

I’m in a dizzying awe, I wander the streets aimlessly with my partner in tow, the police failed to block the streets so a number of cars are just trapped in the crowd that creeps through like a lava flow, fire adorning its leading edge. There is a huge box of fireworks for anyone to pick from, I kick myself for not bringing a lighter or some more weed to smoke. All I can do is watch all the older drunken men who live and work in the neighborhood take pleasure in making a great big fiery mess in the busiest intersection in Chinatown. The firecracker strips shake my bones, I am constantly climbing things to get a better view and remarkably, I find that my balance isn’t too impeded. The drugs are wearing off, I wish I had timed things so I would be peaking in the midst of this experience. I still feel like my extremities are glowing with a dim light like a dying lightbulb and I still feel a lightness and a spring in my step. I wish I knew this was happening every year so I could immerse myself in it, but I’m glad I discovered it for now. (With the eventual burden of the COVID-19 pandemic though, I am doubtful an experience like this would be had for years).

 

T4:40- It’s very very cold outside, given that it is late January. My partner (who doesn’t enjoy loud noises as much as me) offers that we go home. I agree, I am underdressed for this weather. We walk home, I’m quiet and am ruminating on the lovely experience I just had.

 

T4:55- We hang out at home for a bit, they go to bed before I do as I am still feeling to stimulated to sleep.

 

T7:30- It’s very late now. I manage to get myself to sleep.

 

Conclusion: This is an absolutely lovely combo that I revisited a number of times after this experience. It’s not particularly valuable for one of those experiences where I’m just in my room doing nothing, however it really shines to enhance various settings, particularly at night. 3-MeO-PCP on its own is highly sociable, comparable to alcohol but with stimulation and visuals and psychedelia. It however is lacking in the physical dissociation that can be fun at parties and social settings or that which just makes moving and dancing around more interesting. MXPr on its own is fairly shallow and boring with a drawn out and unpleasantly incapacitating comedown, but it has nice visuals and pleasant physical dissociation. They fill in each other’s gaps perfectly- the MXPr mixes an ideal amount of physical dissociation into the 3-MeO-PCP, complimenting the 3-MeO-PCP’s headspace perfectly, so long as doses are properly matched. MXPr also flares up the visuals, making them brighter and more apparent. The long lasting mania and stimulation of the 3-MeO-PCP meanwhile overwhelms the blank and still comedown of MXPr. It’s a match made in heaven, great for adding some color and motion to a night out. Of course, as of this writing, social settings and nighttime parties are not something we should be worrying about.