3,4-MD-PCPr

Age: 29

Weight: 140 lbs

Dosage: 80 mg intransal

Setting: At home

 

[Note: Because I have built up a tolerance to dissociatives, for one without tolerance, such an experience may be found in the range of 60-70 mg. A more manageable experience probably sits in the range of 30-50 mg.]

 

Preface: Another 3,4-MD substituted arylcyclohexylamine-care must be taken to distinguish from 3,4-MD-PCiPr- think MXPr vs. MXiPr. This compound is very interesting in the literature: out of a suite of similar compounds tested for broad-spectrum affinities it stood out as having one of the highest affinities for the NMDA receptor, along with being one of the most selective. What does selectivity mean here? Psychoactive drugs are defined by their primary mechanism of action, NMDA antagonism for dissociatives, 5-HT2A agonism for psychedelics, MOR agonism for opioids etc; because that is the action that drives the desired and noticeable effects. Most drugs hit a variety of other receptors too however- these are peripheral effects. Notably, many NMDA antagonists have peripheral activity on the monoamine transporters, giving them stimulant activity. A selective compound is one that hits the receptor of interest to a much higher degree than it hits any other receptors.

All of this is to say that 3,4-MD-PCPr is in that sense, a very “pure” dissociative- it drives the primary mechanism of drug induced dissociation without doing much else. The only other compound that was comparable in this regard was 2,5-DiMeO-PCP, interestingly enough. Perhaps selectivity is driven by having two aromatic substitutions. Per the dissertation, 3,4-MD-PCPr also had an exceptionally high affinity for the NMDA receptor, which would suggest that it was extremely potent- this oddly enough did not turn out to be the case. I am not sure what the explanation for this would be.

This is an odyssey of a compound, the experience is intense, all consuming, and lasts for a very very long time, with a duration of almost 30 hours. This is one of the longest lasting dissociatives I have ever consumed in fact. Perhaps that is a function of the exceptionally high affinity. While this is a higher dose, it was not overwhelming to the point of being incomprehensible- there was a sense that I could’ve gone even deeper, there was more to be found, but this much dazing intensity for so long made me reluctant to explore further, it was simply exhausting and I do not have the time for that. It is a numbing journey, vibrant and diverse, and can be manifested and adapted in various ways to the circumstances. It is quite anesthetic- perhaps it may have some use there. It is another one like 3,4-MD-PCP that is hard to really describe. It is a fascinating example of how those pharmacological properties can manifest in person.

 

T0:00- Dose taken intranasally. The powder is light and fluffy. It has an unpleasant flavor but there is no pain or sting.

 

T0:12- I go out to the outdoor market to get produce. It is a bright hot day in the late summer. I feel the onset- feeling a bit lightheaded and dizzy. There is no interference with interacting with the shopkeepers.

 

T0:30- I get home. I feel the drug more and more, but it is still very slow and gradual. There is a little bit of an extra push and extra momentum in every step.

 

T0:40- I feel pressure in the front of my head, like I am wearing a tight headband.

 

T0:50- It comes on more and more. It feels like a great wave is washing over me and tossing me about. Still gentle and manageable, but impossible to ignore at this point. I am quite dizzy.

 

T1:00- It grows heavier and heavier. I aimlessly scroll social media and read Wikipedia pages. I am having a hard time maintaining a stream of attention, I am distractable, but nothing seems particularly interesting. It feels so gradual and smooth. I see visual effects start to wobble in the ceiling. Concentric corrugated patterns in navy blue ripple and wiggle.

 

T1:20- How it comes now, a great storm washing waves over my deck. Lamps are tossed about and set the whole ship alight. It feels like that; I am suddenly burning with energy while great forces overtake me from places unknown. It’s a heavy dissociation. It progressed slowly and smoothly, but at once, the floodwaters are taken with heavy chunks of earth and debris; the gentle flow hits a surge; I can almost feel the impact of the sudden drop in intensity. It feels like heavy static has been poured over my existence like viscous syrup. Everything feels heavy, everything is beholden to gravity, it feels like the air is pulling me down into my chair. I let out a deep sigh.

But still- it is smooth, it is polite, it is gentle and intentional. It aims to make such jarring shifts in contrast as comfortable as possible. My fingers are heavy.

I blink three times, squinch my eyes, exhale sharply, and look up. Peculiar. I stand up and move around; despite the wave of sinking dissociative heaviness, I can quickly switch to being functional; albeit in a dazed, numb, shellshocked and clumsy state. I am dizzy and spacey and vibrating, my extremities feel heavy, my eyes feel like they are on the back of my skull and my skin feels like it is made of rigid plastic. I manage to roll a passable joint and go out into the backyard to smoke. The sky is a ceiling above me and the leaves rustle and set in flat planes exactly parallel to my body. I finish and go back inside. I am comfortable and content.

 

T1:35- I am back inside now. Cannabis certainly potentiated the experience. As it will always do. Everything feels heavy. The walls seem like they are angrily pressing down into a resistant floor. My footsteps feel like drumbeats. It feels like sand is falling over me, burying me. It feels okay to stand up, I can function with it, but there is a persistent compulsion to be still. The room perceived as tangled and bent moves around me and adjusts itself to form a path for me. I flop down in my study and put on Khoomei music (Tuvan throat singing of the steppe peoples; I’ve been taken with a fascination of reading about the Mongol Empire recently). The tempo and dynamics imitate the rhythm of the galloping horse, and as such, the sound tramples circles around the ceiling of my room.

I am just lying flat on the couch now, the ultimate heaven. I recognize that I can get up and engage with things and explore how this compound interacts with my various enrichment items scattered around the room. But all I want to do is sit still. I feel like I am being buried in vibrating sand that looks like TV static. So much of a total sense of buzzing, rumbling, vibrating throughout my entire body in pleasant ways. I stare up at the ceiling- Visuals present in pulsing grids, various shades of neon and pastel yellows and oranges. They shift and arrange in patterns of scales and ripples. They traverse naturally as a river would. Non-intrusive, merely there. Similar scenes played out on other blank surfaces. My head is heavy and I am very distractible, pacing like a zoo animal, not sure what I want to do- Do I want to move, do I want to play a video game, do I want to draw, do I want to just lie down and sink into the experience. The headspace is lucid and rational, which is curious.

I opt to just lie still and close my eyes and listen to music. There is an energy of blurred heat waves pulsing off any sharp corners in my vision. A Saint Elmo’s Fire of dissociation. It feels like huge icebergs are bouncing and pushing the loose phantom of what I consider my physical form. It all feels so big! Everything feels bigger and grander. It is monolithic. Everything is huge and heavy. Everything is towering. This is a drug that is epic in its scope.

 

T1:50- I put on music- Boards of Canada’s “Geogaddi”- luscious, eerie, intentional, each track feels like a living being. I shun the curtains and turn off the lights. I tie a bandana around my eyes. Immediately my body is subsumed by the earth and taken into its bosom. My consciousness is packed into a new avatar, limbless, roughly human shaped, a pale golem with few polygons. Carpets of grid patterns wrap tightly around it and I am transported about like a rollercoaster. There is a sense of motion; turning, twisting, rotating, at times being folded and rearranged, all of it soft and pleasant. Skies of patterned pastel colors, distant lands in crystal grids. There is so much sense of weight, this new conscious avatar feels bounded by heavy chains. There is often a sense of my form inflating, growing larger, twisting and bending. The annals of this experience were largely incomprehensible, just a pleasant sensory experience. I feel lucid, all I can do is really think and appreciate this experience, its soft vanilla edges, its clever designs and pleasant tactile surfaces.

 

T2:10- As the music plays I drift in and out of this space. I open my eyes sometimes and stare at the ceiling as purple and orange patterns pulse across the space in mathematical regularity. I drift now. All I can do is drift. I am full of waves. I am full of thoughts that I can’t quite piece together, but there is an underlying sense of tranquility, so this doesn’t bother me much. The couchlock is hyperbolic. I feel like a statue. I feel so content to be completely still. This is what I was meant to do, to be stoic, to be empty and tired as the clouds pass around me, sand pouring in over my head, pressing down on me more the deeper it gets. There is still a sense of motion, of hovering, of my shape expanding. I can try to do other things but this state is simply pleasant, the path of least resistance.

 

T2:15- There is a soothing tranquil euphoria that wells through me. This is a journey with fair winds. I need to go the bathroom. I force myself up and find that I can stand and walk perfectly normally. My hands feel like wooden blocks and I feel like my head is floating separately from my body but I can still operate. I come back to my room and sit down and sink in again. This can really be whatever I want it to.

 

T2:20- My spouse comes home from running separate errands throughout the day. I make small talk with them and while it is obvious that I am on a dissociative, I am still able to converse coherently. It just feels like I need to quickly visualize each word before I place it. I go up the stairs and follow them around the house, both of us just chatting about our days. There is no real boost to sociality, rather a mild difficulty quickly stringing thoughts together.

 

T2:40- It is so smooth and pleasant and gentle, It is so nice to just lay here and let it take me over. At once though, it is intimidatingly intense still, almost 3 hours in, with no sign of relenting.

 

T3:00- It comes and goes in waves of intensity with little rhyme or reason. I am in a daze, unable to focus on deciding a task. The air feels dense with times and memories. The room is stuffy and stifling. It feels like ambient energy around the room is sticking to me and building up and I do not know what to do with it. I have a bit of a headache. It is heavy and distant, a great beast whose scale is shown in diffused dust and mist. There is a sense of unreality, that a new world will spawn behind my door when I close it. There is a sense that everything in my room is preprogrammed as are my interactions with those objects. But these were just fun frolicking thoughts, nothing to seriously consider. Orange and green grid patterns now cast over everything.

 

T4:00- I feel heavy but there has not been an imposing sense of a rush throughout this experience. The drug has operated in the background, with great weight and vigor. There is little mania, but there is a subtle sort of self-serving self-congratulating bent to thought processes about the self. I sit down and play Ocarina of time- I am trying to attain the lens of truth. The dissociation is heavy and hard to ignore. I feel like I have to keep fighting it off when I sit still and focus on a task.

 

T5:00- Still quite intense. I can still achieve some state of loss of body and full closed eyed visual spaces if I lie down. The peak has been waves of intensity for the last 4 hours. It feels cavernous and colossal. It feels like a long journey. I can still talk and function. I don’t have much appetite. I am kind of tired of the lingering intensity at this point.

 

T7:00- A friend who happened to have officiated our wedding has come over for dinner. I can socialize normally but it is still affected by a sense of consciously choosing every word. I still stutter and trip on words as I do with dissociatives. The intensity does seem like it has begun a very long gradual descent.

 

T8:00- Normally I do all the kitchen functions because I am a control freak. I usually like to cook for guests, but this time around my spouse has offered to do it with my friend so I get to just sit back in a daze. I am lounging in an easy chair, there is no longer a sense that I can sink fully into the experience anymore. That was starting to get frustratingly disorienting, but I do find the general sense of cognitive slowness, dizziness and odd senses of proprioception and weight to be annoying at this point.

 

T10:00- I eat dinner. I don’t have much appetite at all but I manage to finish it. I am still pretty dazed, but I am certainly less incapacitated than I was 2 hours ago. I can converse more normally now which is a blessing. But I am still dizzy, stunted, slow.

 

T14:00- Have just been hanging out and playing videogames. It’s really still there. Wow. I mostly just feel it in my body now, along with a sort of dazed flatness in my head. My limbs feel gangly with excess momentum and more weight in the hands. There is still an odd spring in my gait. It is now 4 A.M. I don’t feel particularly stimulated though I still sense it would be annoying trying to sleep on this drug without any assistance. I take my prescribed 50 mg of Trazodone, 25 mg of Doxylamine, and fall asleep.

 

-The next day-

 

T22:00- I wake up at noon. I definitely still feel dissed. There is tightness around my head. I feel dizzy and detached from things. My equilibrium does not feel fully restored. I am still in my head, taking in the world around me with a degree of separation. My limbs still feel oddly weighted. Whuff.

 

T26:00- It has gradually settled away throughout the day. I have to drive up and meet a friend. I get in the car, pull out of the space, drive down the road a little, and immediately settle into the first parking space I see. I can’t do this. I have lost my sense of the space the car takes up, my reaction times are poor, and I feel oddly distractible. None of that. I cancel those plans.

 

T28:00- Less and less but It is still present. I mostly just feel it as a physical sensation in my head, and still an odd spacy dissociation from objects I interact with immediately.

 

T30:00- There is perhaps a still lingering afterglow but the effects seem to have mostly subsided by this point.

 

Conclusion: What a saga. This is not something to be taken lightly or casually. I suppose this is what pure ultra-high affinity ultra-selective NMDAr antagonism feels like. Long and difficult to parse or describe. A heavy and all-consuming type of experience that really just drags on forever. It is perhaps meditative and insightful, but any lessons are eventually lost in the throes of travailing its waves for more than a day. It is blissful, smooth, confident without the mania, anesthetizing and couch-locking. But I can easily wrangle myself out of it to walk and talk and function, albeit a bit handicapped. There are so many layers and levels to this compound, which is natural for something with a duration of 30 hours.  

3,4-MD-PCiPr

Age: 29

Weight: 140 lbs

Dosage: 28 mg intransal

Setting: At home, a hot summer day, after running a bunch of errands.

 [As I have a bit of a tolerance this dose may be high for most users. I would suggest a starting dose as 20-25 mg]

Preface: 3,4-MD-substitutions on aryclcyclohexylamines- the amateur SAR enthusiast sees this and thinks “wow, just like MDMA!”, but structure activity relations between different scaffolds are entirely different. Any apparent resemblance to MDMA is mere coincidence, the substitution offers nothing similar in its actions. Think of it as an example of convergent evolution- Several different clades of mammal developed gliding behavior and anatomy independently (Rodents, Marsupials, Dermoptera), several different scaffolds of psyhocative compounds bind to different human neurotransmitter receptors with a 3,4-Methylenedioxy group and retain psychoactive activity. A cosmic coincidence.

Should there be any doubt to the identity of this substance, I can provide characterization via GCMS, 2D-NMR, HRMS, melting point, and purity via LCMS.

The only 3,4-MD-substituted compound that has been documented is 3,4-MD-PCP, a unique, powerful and fascinating drug, hard to describe, immensely therapeutic but very liable to get out of hand of not treated carefully- I find those unforgiving, high risk, high reward qualities present in this compound too.

Across my multitude of experiences I have found this compound to truly be a wild ride, unpredictable, capricious, ready to present gardens of delight laden with thorns. On multiple occasions (and often when mixed with other dissociatives, namely 2-FXE) I have found myself in a state of acute paranoia about friends, social circumstances; At one point I was driven to sleep with a large fixed blade knife under my pillow- But that is the rough edges of the beauty that this compound presents- the National Parks kill hundreds of unwary travelers every year but no one would doubt their sacrifices are worth it.

The danger lies in this compound’s deep seated mania, a dangerous kind where it is subtle yet all consuming, a vicious conspiracy building webs in the background of my mind, mycelium ready to explode into prismatic fungal bodies with the right trigger. It is stimulating, it is bright, it is powerfully euphoric and rewarding. It is profound and energetic, it is wonderful for dancing with friends or walking the streets riffing and joking. It is luscious and beautiful on its own in a quiet place alone- like its cousin 3,4-MD-PCP, it is adaptable, hard to pin down, all consuming and all transforming. I chose to integrate this experience into a basic day of doing chores and performing the necessities for my life. This drug makes me feel like I am the main character, moreso than any over I’ve taken; for better or for worse.

 

T0:00- Dose snorted. The powder is very fluffy. There is a mild instant shock of a followed by a slow, progressive, and severe burn. It fluffs into the sinuses and covers everything. Fairly unpleasant.

 

T0:10- Onset, feeling a little fuzzy and lightheaded. I am doing some house chores, putting groceries away and washing dishes. I can feel that my movements are different than normal.

 

T0:20- It comes on  slowly and gradually, though it is now markedly more intense than 10 minutes ago. a numbness extends to my extremities.

 

T0:30- It begins to crash over the breakers now. I am soon aloft with pulses of energy radiating from my spine, electric blue fire. It feels like there is a heavy weight floating around my core, pulling strings from my brain, tensing and binding my entire body. My heart rate suddenly quickens as a delightful rush washes over me, tingling numbness and sparks of energy. It is not in my face, it feels like it creeps in from the back, a little doggy door on my occipital bone. The electricity shoots into my eyes, it crawls across my bones and face, it is like a cold fire. I am elated, I am messaging people; visually, there is a meteor shower of purple static all over every blank surface. It am full of light.

 

T0:40- There is a sensation of being stretched out in a most comfortable and pleasurable way that sends tingles down my nerves. My stretched body is tanned in blades of piercing tingling light. My jaw is vibrating. I get up and dance to send off some of the excess energy, momentum sloshes through my limbs like a grey storm.

 

T1:00- The rush has begun to smooth out into a heavy disjointed peak, it feels like I am on a boat at high speeds, bouncing on the waves, but smooth, steady, and consistent. A steady breeze rushes my face. The sensory experiences are centered around my head and face, my body is just a neon ragdoll dragged along for the ride.

 

T1:15- This is a subtle heaviness with a lot of buzz, I feel bright and euphoric and social, I want to get up and do things. I am just in my room, which is a beautiful sanctuary space. I am content to be here but there is just such a big almost sentient dissociation pushing at my back and prodding me to interact with it. I continue to do some tidying around the house. The whole world spins blue around my solipsistic core. I step into the backyard and smoke some cannabis in the oppressive late summer heat. It feels like a jungle and mosquitos pester my ankles. The sky feels like a projection, the big cherry blossom tree a set piece, all accessories to what has become a very centered and narcissistic experience- I am a gravity well and as I am on this drug, the energies of the earth radiate to me! It feels good to be a god.

 

T1:30- I am back inside. It is heavy, like big jungle leaves overlapping and leaning over each other. I am thoroughly incapacitated. I am flung onto my couch. I could still move about and interact, but everything is taxed with weight and extra momentum. I can perform the outward functions of myself, and I recognize that I am performing those functions. It is a bizarre meta-analysis.

My spouse has come home from running errands. I am excitable and articulate, I want to talk about possibilities and plans, interesting tidbits of knowledge, I am energized. I can pull together and present something to the outside still. I love this variance, that in one moment I can be in the thralls of sludgy dissociative waves, hardly able to brick together a sentence- but at will I can talk and converse, disjointed but energetic and smooth and annoyingly enthusiastic.

I lounge back on the couch and gaze at the ceiling- endless lamellary patterns, flowing, drifting, overlapping, Clusters of concentric ripples choose to play among these forms, driving and writhing through their forms like creeping bottlebrush trees. It Is all in violet and blue. There are draperies of chains, ever layering, ever overlapping. A grand world issuing forth from the scales of a Pangolin. All is moving and flowing, On narrow and straight and right angled surfaces the forms compress into regular patterns, turning to a type of glyphs, temple decorations of my blissful sanctuary. Great transparent worms of cellophane work between the patterns, radiating forms blossom at each disturbance.

I feel like I am made of syrup, I am flopping about on the couch, letting my body sit how it will. I can snap out of it, stand up, do things in an ungainly manner, but my default state is to be disjointed, to feel my limbs in places I cannot imagine them. Tingling energy runs across my body. Bright, fiery and high- I really truly fell like I can do anything. I send out a proposal email to graduate school at the onset of this. The world is opening up, Inshallah.

When I sit still I vibrate, I am buzzing, I am like a wind up toy ready to go! But there is no urgency there, there is no tension, I could shoot off across the universe with the blink of an eye, but the energy is also content to sit and run infinite laps through my nervous system with no sign of tiring or desiring otherwise. How incredible it feels to have potential power.

I close my eyes and turn on Knifeplay, dreamy shoegaze, fuzzy and languid underlaid with cutting electric nerves, there felt a sort of kinship.

Despite the energy running about like an excited dog, I have elected to just sit still, let it wrestle, let it rumble. I close my eyes and let the music crawl over me, I feel cold sweaty, I feel so far away from everything. The music hits like deep violet droplets, pooling around me with a lacquer shine that reflects the moon. Amidst the baseline of the pools series of rectangular forms, inscrutable glyphs, concentric arrays of forms, roam past me, I lazily acknowledge their presence and let them drift off to the glittering abyss.

T2:00- I have sunken to the experience’s languid chambers for the last half hour, surrendering myself to its sensory qualities. It still rages like a thunderhead anchored to my skull. I sit up, I stop flopping around. I decide on an activity.

I recently traveled to the coast of New England where I collected a variety of specimens of the colonial animals known as Bryozoans-epiphytes latched to seaweed in alcohol. Bryozoans have a lifestyle convergently similar to coral- tentacled polyps feeding from protected cases built from proteins or minerals, bound to their kin for survival.

I spent the next hour or so observing these organisms under the microscope. I still had enough motor function to operate the focus knobs.

I preserved them in alcohol and was elated to see that this preserved their soft bodies outside of their protective tests- it builds into a dizzying self-aggrandizing fantasy of documenting these beautiful creatures for some purpose of social capital; to show my friends that I have this unique knowledge of this obscure clade of animal, that I have the perception to see what they don’t, to bring it home and observe it in a way they can’t- I imagine myself as a performer, an intellectual influence, a sharer of knowledge. But it’s just posting on Instagram ultimately, it really isn’t that deep, no one is paying regard beyond their aimless scrolling. I am just a nerd posting on social media, but the elated mania drives everything to profound significance. I am a future naturalist influencer, I am going to work my way into the backdoor of zoological academia in the way I did for pharmacology and chemistry-it feels great to be boastful and confident, it feels great to recognize it as narcissistic delusion and to just not care, to just let it flow, to just let the drug take the reins. I am an arrogant upstart, but one who may at least get things done rather than my usual wallowing in self-pity. It’s all going to be ok! In vicious fashion.

I look through the microscope and see worlds and worlds of microorganisms, flash killed by isopropyl alcohol, frozen in their last moments, often with tentacles extended, tense, in a panic, beseeching the gods of the tides for planktonic morsels that would never come. It is dizzyingly beautiful and gratifying. I am washed with radiating fans of euphoria at the grandiose diversity of our world. Loud and fast and great.

My face feels entirely numb. My teeth are vibrating. My entire body feels like a tangled mass of tendrils blowing in a storm, anchored on my vibrating eyes gazing down the optics of the microscope. Currents move around me, tickle and nudge the tendrils about like a buffets of furious wind through fields of rye. When my mind doesn’t drift into fantasies I am completely present, mindful, my head is empty and I am purely engaged with what is in front of me. Perhaps a sort of dissociative Zen. I vacillate between looking through the microscope and lying on my couch, Knifeplay still tip-tapping its way along my nerves like a millipede. My mind is curious and prone to wander. I don’t know what exactly to do, to interact with. Thoughts race by like stock tickers. The whole world feels as though it is vibrating. When I close my eyes I see infinite streams and masses of regular forms moving in order like an assembly line, chaotic fiery, energetic, but at its core- everything in its place.

 

T2:20- I’m amazed at how immersed I was able to become in the task of microscopy. Half an hour passes like nothing as I am engrossed. It feels like the world has blurred and swirled around me, another moment of singular solipsistic might. I had the mandate of heaven to sit in a chair and look at tiny invertebrates.

I feel it physically. I am slow to react, clumsy and unsure of how to manage my momentum. My face and body are numb. I feel like I am a series of cubes flowing to meet the general form of my body. Sounds around me reverberate and pitch in different direction and scatter into the ambient background noise. An organized musical cacophony among the chaos of a wily and volatile experience. There is a sense of psychedelia in the thoughts, in undue significance appended to every word, every spot of beauty, everything I see in the news. It is familiar but quite different.

 

T2:30- I am playing Dynasty Warriors 3 on the Playstation 2 to pass the time. I feel unable to hold much of a conversation at this point, my brain is fried and steady. My spouse comes down to hang out with me for a bit and watch my play games, we make small talk. The act of speaking feels like a delight, but the constant motion of the experience makes it hard to focus on a conversation and feed into it reciprocally. I feel like I am sitting next to myself.

 

T3:00- The experience holds steady for a bit now, the most intense washes of the peak have turned dull, my baseline is all sorts of shifted but is comfortable and stable. I don’t feel like I have my motor control fully about me. I am now into the phase where I am falling into Wikipedia holes, reading information, passing time by reading more and more. It smolders very hot in my skull. I want to read everything.

 

T3:15- I start preparing dinner. I am making Plov, the Uzbek variation of Pilaf, with marinated fried mushrooms substituted for meat (I am vegetarian). It feels incredible to have a task before me. I am extra wary of the knife as my motor faculties have not fully returned. I lock into the task, running as an efficient and perfect automaton carrying out each action exactly as it is needed- or so I felt to myself. It feels so wonderful to create something. I check my spice blends carefully.

 

T3:30- I am still cooking, it takes a long time. The elated mania makes me feel like an artist, or some fancy chef, when in reality I am experimenting with a new recipe that I am absolutely liable to butcher. I flit around the kitchen listening to The Roots, picking out my various spices, immersed in a fantasy of cooking for a nomadic steppe warrior (whom is inexplicably vegetarian); a playful, childish rush of imagination joins the whipping storm of all sorts of intense and sentimental emotions drawn out by this drug, it is all burning with energy, the flames dancing wildly among each other, cackling and crackling like seeing a first campfire and being mesmerized by the flames. I wish I could run outside, pick up a stick, play to my imagination and vanquish imaginary foes. This would not play well in a populated city at the ripe old age of 29. There is a distinct downturn at this point, I am certainly in the comedown. The brightest edges of its flares have receded, the thrashing torrents are lapping waves. It is slow and gradual but I feel like pieces of myself are falling back into place.

 

T4:30- The rice is simmering. I have been sitting chatting with people online. I still feel a fairly intense glow, the fire is still warm and bright, just no longer raging. There is a baseline of excited mania now, I’m very talkative, everything seems significant and important. It feels good to flit around the kitchen and clean and cook. The discoordination that had ruled before has now given way to what felt like a perfect proprioception- an exact sense of how my limbs moved, where they were, how much tension was in my movements and how much momentum to compensate for each move. I feel sensitive to emotions and subtle cues in body language and tone like I am on psychedelics. The smell of the steam from the spiced rice creates synesthetic sparkles and confetti, the billowing steam is heavenly fragrant.

 

T5:30- Eating dinner- I normally don’t have much appetite when I take dissociatives but I actually did feel pangs of hunger on the peak of this one. It feels good to fill my stomach with warm food. I very quickly eat a lot. The meal turned out to be delicious and my spouse made a wonderful chickpea cucumber salad to accompany it.  

 

T6:30- The intensity comes and goes in waves. There is a steady baseline of mania but there are occasional upwellings of physical dissociation and dizziness. Everything feels important, everything I do feels important, everything I do feels urgent and correct. I am just sitting in a chair reading stuff on my computer, but it feels like what I must do right now. I am still quite stimulated, and there is still a bit of numbness in my limbs, but the waves of dissociation mostly pulse through my core and my face.

 

T7:00- Mostly down. No more physical dissociation presents, just a general sense of lightheaded and dizzy mania that still lingers.

 

T9:00- Pretty much back to baseline, but there is a lingering excited mania.

 

T10:00- Feel fully back to baseline.

 

Epilogue- The next day I felt a bit lightheaded and dizzy throughout the day, with a continuing afterglow of mental dissociation. This one seems to have a very long tail end, though this state in now way interfered with my functionality. It was a subtle focused hypomania with a touch of vertigo.

Conclusion: This is an incredibly bright and manic drug, It can travel far off-base, it can adapt to any situation, it is variable and customizable and pumping with manic euphoria. It can become arrogant, annoying, overloaded, paranoid and maddening. Life moves fast and hits hard when one is convinced their every thought is intensely correct. There are intense noticeable visuals, rippling as layers upon each other in cool colors. It is brightly social, though mania can also be a problem in social settings. It is a heavy floppy dissociative. It is a wild beast and hard to tame. It is something that should not be taken lightly.

3-MeO-PCiPr

 Age: 29

Weight: 140 lbs

Dosage: 40 mg intransal

Setting: Walking around my city on a heavily overcast late summer day. The skies were gray above and cold winds swept through preceding occasional rain showers. Eerily cold for early August.

[Immediate disclaimer-the dose reported for this report is excessive. I have developed a tolerance to dissociatives and I also prefer more intense experiences. For those first delving into this drug who have minimal dissociative experience, I would suggest a starting dose at 20 mg.]

Preface: 3-MeO-PCiPr is a compound I had dreamed about for a long time in my fantasies about structure-activity relations in the Aryclcyclohexylamines. To finally have it before me is a feeling like no other. For those who doubt its veracity, GCMS, HRMS, HPLC purity, and full 2D-NMR can be supplied to confirm the identity of this total novel compound.

 

You can skip the chem jargon if you’d like.

 

3-MeO-PCiPr is a totally novel exploration into the simple idea of modifying the alkane on the secondary amine on the arylcyclohexylamine (ACH) scaffold. Essentially any alkane can be built from that nitrogen, and Ethyl (as in PCE) and methyl (as in PCM, seen in 2’-oxo substituted compounds like Ketamine, DCK, 2F-DCK etc.) have been explored extensively. Each different alkane on the ACH base creates its own discrete category of ACH, which can then in turn be modified in myriad ways with substitutions on the aromatic ring. The PCiPr scaffold has so far only presented in the compound MXiPr, with a 3-MeO-2’-Oxo substitution. Non-2’-Oxo substituted PCiPr compounds have not been explored at all, but MXiPr is well regarded and well known; I personally find it quite delightful! The PCiPr series was of particular interest to me for no specific scientific reason- the structure just seemed to call for me on some metaphysical level. I had always postulated that the basic 3-MeO substitution that had been so fruitful with so many other aklylamines would prove fruitful here, so I had high hopes when this compound became available to me, along with a small handful of other PCiPr based compounds.

I found 3-MeO-PCiPr to be the most interesting, revelatory, euphoric, accessible, and balanced of the entire series. Others I was in contact with who had also gained access to reported similarly positive and glowing experiences. It appears to be active and equipotent per various routes of administration, (so far I have tried oral, intranasal, sublingual), with the route of administration only really affecting duration. I find it to be an excellent social drug, with full capacity to offer profound and introspective experiences should the set and setting allow it. Various doses offer various experiences- lighter doses, in the 10-15 mg range, give a light jilted buzz, like the world is slightly shifted. It is most pleasantly social in this range. Doses in the range of 20-30 mg are a sweet spot, allowing for socialization and disinhibition with a strange warm and heavy glow, while also offering substantial hallucinogenic depth when alone. Doses in excess of 30 mg are delightful and intense, even veering into being more of a corporeal dissociative: numbness of limbs, poor coordination, dizziness and clumsiness and floppiness and shrouded proprioception begin to present; the head space can be heavy and overwhelming and pass into a hole-like catatonia from the sheer sense of weight cutting into the skull. The energy is still high but the body cannot keep up, it is truly disorienting. Thoughts race and crystallize in bizarre unnavigable patterns that can be hard to parse or process. I am along for a heavy and gravelly ride. When it shines, it is a manic and functional dissociative, most comparable to the likes of 3-MeO-PCP and 3-MeO-PCE, but with its own character. It is heavier, larger, hotter, yet paradoxically gentler and slower than the electric rush of its compatriots. And ultimately so smooth, so subtle and gentle at first as I immerse; The effects will be described as follows.

 

T0:00- Dose taken intranasally. It is a crystalline powder that smells of ether. There is no initial sting or discomfort, but a seeping burn develops over the next few minutes, triggering sneezing and teary wincing.

 

T0:15- Effects begin to become noticeable. A bit of numbness at my very extremities. A lightness and dizziness in my head like a million particles are swirling around inside of the cavity of my skull.

T0:30- I have been passing the time watching YouTube videos of people walking around different neighborhoods in different cities around the world- enough dissociation has begun to set in to make this an immersive experience where I feel sufficiently separated from my current time and place. I feel spacey like my brain is being gently warmed by an infrared roaster. A sensation of TV static sets in across my skull. I feel jolts of energy traveling down my nerves into my limbs but I am content to just sit still.

T0:40- Feeling very spacey, I catch myself staring aimlessly at the things before me as light drifting textures drag waves across my unfocused eyes. My fingertips are numb and the tendons in my fingers feel tight and tense as they type. It feels like the top half of my head is vibrating to pieces in all directions, crackling and sizzling as it does.

T0:50- I decide to go out for a walk since I am already bored of just being cooped up in the house. The experience so far feels mild and underwhelming, a note of sensation on the back of my head and extremities but not much else. My thoughts feel focused and alert, but there isn’t that particular edge to them that comes from a more incisive manic dissociative experience. It’s an unseasonally chilly day in August, thunderstorms have been rolling through on and off throughout the day, the disorder of their tracks heralded by an aimless chaos of scattered cold downburst winds haphazardly sweeping the streets. The sky is grey, the air is thick with humidity.

I feel coordinated, there is a sense of plasticity in my being like I am a mannequin drifting through an artificial world. I am performing my task of presenting as a normal person outside but I am acutely aware of the fact that that is a conscious choice. I smoke cannabis out of my one hitter as I walk, each hit seems to breathe a bit of intensity into the experience like stoking a fire. Visuals are just a sense of flashing and drifting at the peripherals of my vision and the cannabis hits seem to make them seethe and heave. I am walking to a park where I can sit and observe the world around me. As I walk I wonder why the experience still feels so muted despite the large dose- it is something I can ignore, it is something that doesn’t demand my attention, and that feels disappointing. Have I really damaged my tolerance this much? I walk and walk ruminating; I pass a dirty alley where I once fled from the police and was sheltered by an encampment of homeless people shooting fentanyl into their necks, politely offering me some. I gave them a big bag of fireworks as thanks. My thoughts are racing, latching on to associations like that, traveling down the trails of memories produced by my environment. It feels like my fuzzy sandy brain is dispersing static emblazoned cosmic tentacles to touch around the environment around me, feed me associations and free flow of thoughts, rushing stimulating mania in a subtle form. Perhaps it is hitting me properly.

T1:05- I’ve reached the park. Everything is gray. The grey edifices around me blend with the different grey of the sky and the city around me climbs like great concrete pillars into the billowing stratus clouds of the heavens. I am on a park bench, people watching. Gusts constantly blow through, there’s the tension of the dark sky and the ominous winds and the heavy humid air that it could start pouring rain at any second. Everything seems agitated.

The drug rushes over me in sync with the squalls of cold wind. I was walking, it was shadowing me and it had caught up with me, I am drifting unknowingly into the peak like a boat about to pass over a waterfall. A stranger asks me for directions and when I talk to her it feels like I am physically casting my voice out into the air, an object I can see disperse and fade into my surroundings. I am lucid enough to still offer correct directions interestingly enough. My head feels heavy and dense, it feels like an entire sky’s worth of air is slowly funneling into it then rushing out every which way, pulling my physical sense of self into the gusts cutting around the trees. I am warm and my limbs feel pleasantly numb. They feel heavy and lazy. If I can get momentum going I can get my body into motion but there is a sedentary quality to this, contrasted with rushes of electricity and energy pulsing from my crown, down my neck and shoulders and spine into my fingers. My body feels still but my mind is fiery and alert, eyes darting around to take in every detail of the scenery around me; when my eyes focus on something it pulses and radiates. I feel so damn lazy. I feel content to sit here. But I also feel restless, there is energy bouncing around inside of me, it is not demanding or uncomfortable, but it simply feels polite to let it have some release. I am thinking of fantasies, desires come to fruition, the mad mania and euphoria of potential successes and victories. It is fun, it is happy, I am grounded and in control and have zero desire to pursue any of these fleeting fancies and I am content in knowing that.

I gaze at the sky, there are lights, shimmering pulsing textures, subtle and vague but apparent. They pulse in translucent washes of deep violet and indigo. Everything in my periphery is gently flashing and drifting in one direction. My head feels floppy. So many people are walking by but as far as I am concerned, they are as much a part of the scenery as the trees and concrete.


T1:20- I kinda have to pee so I get up and set off for the big bright flashing mall in the center of the city. There is an intensity that sets in when I sit still but I can just as easily break out of it, stand up, walk around. I feel like I am vibrating, the entire world feels like different vibrating components buzzing against each other. The wind slashes this way and that as I navigate the dense grey city streets. On a large open thoroughfare, waiting to cross on a pile of construction gravel, great trains of gusts trundle past, buffeting me. I feel like I am made of loose pixels and each gust pulls them further into the grey air, to disperse them amongst the concrete and grime. I am the wind, I am a core of a consciousness that is picked up and whipped around and thrown about the passages between all of the stark concrete buildings against that looming grey sky. I feel like I am being smeared as I move. My head is a swirling pool of hot water that sloshes about as I walk. I am thinking about the people I love, I have been avoiding and isolating from them recently but there is a warmth and compulsion to reach out to them and talk to them from this pulsing blinding LED heart of the city that we all inhabit, I think of them scattered all around this landscape, in their little homes and their little rooms, all clusters of right angles and cutaway diagrams. This is fun, this is warm, this is optimistic, and it makes me want to be a part of grand humanity.

Sounds that pass on the street doppler around me, flange and drift and reverberate and crystallize into regular patterns of blocks. It is heavy and sticky. I walk through so many squalls of people on the sidewalk and I don’t feel like a person pushing through the crowd, I feel like that grey city wind carrying me and drifting me about like an empty bag of chips. I am not a person, I am just a part of the environment.

 

T1:40- I am indoors now, in a mall. It is a new mall, that tragically opened right before the COVID-19 pandemic, which hamstrung much of its prospects. But by design it is unbelievably sterile and impersonal too. It is white and bright and empty inside, it feels like stumbling into a debug map without any textures. Even indoors I still feel like I am the wind, floating, drifting, rushing and grey. After I relieve myself I sit down to collect myself. I stop moving but nothing stops moving around me. It feels like I am immersed in a great rushing river, demanding that I move, demanding that I follow its flow. This drug moves the whole world around me. It is constant motion and a slow burn, like the friction of a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere. Despite this constant intrinsic energy, it is also remarkably lazy. When I sit I am sitting. Even though so much energy rushes through me there is no compulsion to get up. I could be content to melt into this bench while a thunderstorm rages inside my skull. A perfect balance of chaos and bliss, playing off of each other in a symphony of fireworks inside of a stolid cavern. I feel like I am baking. How versatile! It feels like there is a secret, ancient wind that has scrawled the surface of the earth like a constant tessellation of writhing angular eels, a relic from the Archaean age, a time of a heavy and still earth, and this drug has allowed me to tap into that, to be aware of that.

Centipedes run down my nerves (positive). The sounds around me blend and bounce into an incomprehensible glitchy cacophony. It constantly feels like there is something in my peripheral vision, but I can never catch it. This isn’t the licking flames of 3-MeO-PCE, it is being seared and baked in a furnace, but lightning can still be cast down my limbs.

I get up to walk and I notice that I am distinctly uncoordinated and jilted. It can just pass of as me being drunk or limping. Drunk in a mall on a Wednesday at 7:00 PM. What a rush though, there is such a pleasant euphoria, everything seems exciting, everything seems worth examining and addressing, but I don’t want to draw attention to myself. There is simply so much world. I am constantly becoming the air.

 

 T1:50- I’m walking around the city’s Chinatown, the rush of people around me with so much color and texture on every side makes me feel like a flower floating on a river. I sit down and start messaging people because I want to just talk to people and check in. This is wonderfully social it seems. The buildings where I am now are all so tall and stark and blank. They pulse and vibrate against the grey sky. It feels like I am being buffeted by their waves. When I get up and walk, I feel so light on my feet, I feel like I am riding on a cloud. The world around me feels alien and disconnected, like I am watching all of it on a screen. And for some indiscernible reason that fills me with joy and wonder. The sky is sparking and rolling. Little points of light and color dot them at regular intervals in gridded patterns. The great wide sidewalk shudders before me. It feels like the world warps and bends around me as I pass it, all flowing and rushing like the confused stampede of stray winds that have been tearing through the city all day.

 

T2:10- I stop at a grocery store on the way home to get some home essentials. I am standing in the aisles mesmerized by the sheer volume of choice. I am in a daze and the entire place feels like it is vibrating and shifting around me. I feel like a rolling stormcloud bouncing around the aisles. After too much time aimlessly gazing at the vast quantities of visual information before me, I quickly pay for my purchases and slip out. A rainstorm has picked up, and the loss prevention cop posted outside the store cracks some joke about it to me. It feels like someone dragged a QR code across my forehead. Its definitely information but I am not equipped to interpret it.

 

T2:30- I arrive home. I feel like I’m melting. But it Is also easy to focus and bring myself around to do things and move myself competently. I can stop and let it settle in at any time though. This control over the experience is nice. The change of environment shocks my senses. The walls are flashing. The air feels heavy the structure feels heavy the vibrations running across my body squeeze in tight. I feel heavy. There are faint glittering tracers when I move my head, blocky and regular. Textures stream on the walls, quietly and privately. I feel hot and sweaty. I feel distant and heavy and amorphous. I feel like I am hovering and steaming. I close my eyes and see faint tracery of shifting, spinning, drifting patterns in the same cool tones as the open eyed visuals, despite the overall warm sensation of the experience. They are fairly indistinct, perhaps even less so than the open eye visuals.

T2:40- I start to play Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. I am on the last leg of the dreaded water temple. I trash Shadow Link with my Biggoron Sword and rage through the rest of the dungeon. As time passes the drug noticeably loosens its grip. The sensations are less holistic, there is less sense of the world vibrating around me, it is just a bit of dizziness and numbness and thoughts flowing like rivers as before, a charred daze. I am functional enough to play the game and work through puzzles and my fine motor skills are competent enough to do what I need to. I am vibrating in place but I am content to just sit still and let the smoldering energy flow through me as its glow very slowly dims. I am very hungry now, so I prepared a serving of spiced basmati rice.  I feel like an alchemist picking through my dense spice cabinet to pick the perfect flavors.

T3:20- Still playing while the rice cooks. I am coming down more and more which is serving me better in the game as time passes. It is a gentle and smooth and gradual landing. I still feel a tight electric buzzing in my head.

T4:30- I’m done gaming, I’m going to eat dinner now. The spiced rice was paired with leftover Paneer Makhani I had cooked 2 days ago, crafted with my own garam masala blend ground from whole spices. The food is delicious, I feel mostly alert and only feel a sense of weight in my head. My senses clearly aren’t stunted as feel I can register all of the layered flavors in the food. I feel like I could pass as sober speaking to another person now.

T5:20- mostly back to baseline still feeling a little spacey

T6:00- There is still a nice lingering afterglow. The physical dissociative effects have all but faded, but there is a pleasant mental stimulation. I feel articulate, I am talking to people about politics and political theory and strategy, I can hold the conversation fluidly and I feel like my thoughts connect and present easily. This is very nice and this phase of the experience would likely be pleasant in a more social setting.

T7:00- Back to baseline. Maybe a bit of residual dizziness and lightheadedness but nothing else.

 

Conclusion: This is a manic and functional dissociative that I find most comparable to 3-MeO-PCE. With that as a point of reference, I would say it is heavier, less coordinated, spacier, more euphoric, less insightful, more sociable, and overall less manic. It is smoother and more manageable- where 3-MeO-PCE has punctuated edges this has been sanded down. It is a universally pleasant and manageable experience that still serves appreciable depth and profundity. It pairs nicely with shorter acting dissociatives like ketamine or 2-FXE. It provides a pleasant baseline for socializing. At a higher dose it provides an interesting introspective space that could very well prove therapeutic. I think this drug shines because it is so versatile and can take so many forms at different doses, in a way that sees it offer different things to different people. It shows promise for other substitutions on the PCiPr scaffold. The overall experience I would objectively characterize as gently stimulating, gently manic, adaptable. It can be bent to the will of whatever is needed, in terms of set or setting. It can be intense if needed. It can be whatever the situation calls for. It’s a delightfully versatile substance that has been fun to explore in different contexts.

2023 in Review

 Stagnation time. It’s been a long time since I’ve complained this much in a year in review.

[This was written many months ago, in March of 2024. I am only deciding to share it right now]

*CW: Addiction, self harm, suicide*

*this post is not a cry for help. Its a frank assessment of my circumstances in the vein of the same posts I made every other year. There is nothing anyone can do for me. I haven’t been doing well, but it’s my own battle. Advice and suggestions are not welcome. But also as I currently am posting this I am completely sober and in wonderful circumstances, looking back at a dark time from the outside*

It probably stands out that in the course of 2023, I have not contributed a single trip report. Not for lack of trying anything new, though novel experiences have also declined drastically. 

It’s not like I was doing less drugs- in fact, I was doing more than I ever had before in my life. I am thrashing around in a field of psychological polydrug addiction, a daily affair striking from multiple sides that began to spiral into absolute preeminence this year. Daily use is of course a given. The worst culprit is dissociatives- I am badly addicted to dissociatives. My tolerance to them has skyrocketed. In fact this is the reason why there are so few new reports or novel experiences- Every night I am urgently chasing that familiar comfortable reliable relieving dissociative high, using drugs that I know will do what I want, leaving little room for novelty and experimentation; in a sense, the experimentation was always to find things that I could revisit with regularity, and perhaps I have achieved that. There is little motivation to do more. 

The only times I abstain from dissociatives is when I have my spouse physically hide them from me, and even then, I could sneak doses in from other sources sometimes; sometimes something would be forgotten in a drawer; at my worse I would even squirrel away a dose or two to be taken when I was alone; the collection is growing so large that hiding them is becoming more and more challenging. 

When I am abstaining from them I am filling in the gaps with everything else possible, an onslaught of depressants, mostly various pharmaceuticals (I don’t combine any of these don’t worry)- Mostly pregabalin and carisoprodol and 1,4-BDO, a whole bestiary of various pharma benzos; and less frequently such delights as codeine, Hydromorphone, gabapentin, cocaine. Prominently absent is the dominant drugs of my younger days- the psychedelics; but more on that later. And of course, cannabis, nonstop, though it does little for me anymore and mostly serves as a idle comfort habit, an appetite stimulant, and a potentiator of dissociatives. The only days I have been sober in the last year have been when I am traveling with family. 

The nature of how drugs affect me has changed entirely too. These substances are nearly unrecognizable to how I experienced them years ago, all of them a well worn path colored both by steady neurological wear and tear and repetitive psychological conditioning and familiarity. First and foremost, I rarely ever take psychedelics anymore. In the last year I used psychedelics a grand total of 7 times (For several years they were more or less a weekly habit). I recently posted a thread on Twitter about this, but the taxing bodyload has simply become too great for the experience to feel worth it anymore. I have always struggled with psychedelic bodyload (mainly in the form of severe GI distress as all-consuming pain and nausea and purging; muscle aches and tremors and tension and chills), but it has absolutely gotten progressively worse as I have gotten older. There was a point for a long time where it still felt worth it, where the pros outweighed the cons, but I feel like I have now passed that threshold, that the experiences have little to offer me beyond intense physical suffering. This has not gotten better, I have tried so many different methods and medications to ameliorate it, I have tried changing my diet etc; I promise whatever suggestion is offered I have already tried. I think this is just my body aging out of being able to do this, my nerves worn thin through almost a decade of concentrated and frequent use of various psychedelics rcs. The bundles of neurons bearing 5-HT2A receptors on my guts carved out, strung up to dry. Psychedelics defined a decade of my life but their time seems to be passing. I doubt I will visit them beyond my annual bicycle day experience. I don’t feel like there are any lessons to be gained from them at this point that justify the suffering. The visuals I once delighted in have turned dull and subtle and vague, no matter the substance. Perhaps there is still something to be learned from very powerful experiences but I am doubtful my body would make it out intact.

Benzos are rarely anything enjoyable these days, which is frankly truly a blessing. Their own suite of negative side effects keeps me on my best behavior, it keeps me from dosing frequently, and this has probably saved me from a lifetime of battling the worst physical addiction known to man. What was once a fun and casual experience has turned to a multi day trial punctuated by a few hours of euphoria immediately upon dosing. Repeated phases of frequent use and breaks has developed a debilitating kindling where I am left hungover for a day or even days after fairly normal recreational doses of once fun and familiar compounds I could use causally. For those days I am so fatigued I can’t make it through a day without sleeping multiple times. I am in a state of irrational deep depression, my mood is pinned to the sea floor, every input is cast and tainted with an inescapable dreariness that defies reason or cognition. And I am left in a state of amnesia for days after, even stronger than the amnesia during the fun peak of the experience - this proves to be extremely inconvenient for a job that requires my constant attention and knowledge, for meaningful social interactions or simply for trying to live joyous or pleasant experiences; the color of life fades to nothing. As much as I miss the warm fuzzy nights barred out playing videogames or the hedonistic rage of a pure present euphoria not bound to the strictures of memory or the anxieties of the future, it is objectively for the best that this cannot continue. I will cherish the non-memories forever. 

Dissociatives have come to the defining forefront of my life, and those experiences too have become dulled and reshaped through constant unrelenting use. My poisons of desire are mainly FXE, DMXE, ketamine, 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE, 3-MeO-PCiPr, 2F-DCK, 3,4-MD-PCiPr, and a whole plethora of others with lesser frequency. I do these just about every night. 

Once upon a time I got my kicks just doing a single dose of a single compound but that is too dull for me now. Each session sees a mixing and matching of drugs with several redoses of certain ones; typically playing on their varying durations; a base layer of something or a combination of things longer lasting and functional is applied, then layered with punctuated saturated moments of higher doses or small bumps of the shorter acting ones. Like drinking a beer and taking a shot. My tolerance has shot up and I find myself in a troubling place where it is hard to have a “hole” experience. I am troubled by knowing that this is likely forever, as dissociative tolerance never really fades. That these experiences I love so much will only grow duller and less fulfilling, yet I am still compelled to pursue them every day, a little bit of the magic chipping away each time. I don’t know how this will end. This magic is frankly, what I mostly lived for. Perhaps I will eventually be so bored and understimulated that I just stop trying. I hate this tolerance, I hate that I no longer feel like I can accurately report doses of novel substances to others, I hate that I’ve dulled the instrument I used to collect so much data in the past. But there’s no going back is there; I did this to myself. Persistent use of dissociatives, my preference mostly being towards stimulating ones, has exacerbated the sleep issues I already had, as has the frequent use and rekindling of benzos. It is very challenging for me to sleep anymore without some cocktail of drugs, and my addiction to dissociatives has a symbiosis with Zolpidem as my absolute fail safe sedative. I am prescribed hydroxyzine and trazodone for sleep, the trazodone I am fully dependent on, only abstaining when I plan to use psychedelics. Sleep is usually also aided by melatonin, doxylamine, and carisoprodol.

I have begun to notice that the following cumulative negative effects have become observably worse: 

-short term memory loss; issues with word recall 

-odd gaps in registration of long term memories 

-persistent nausea 

-frequent urination 

-bladder aches

-fatigue 

-persistent anxiety and insomnia 

Some of this may be connected to contracting COVID-19 twice within the last year. 

There’s a lot I could whine about.

My mental health has correspondingly been abysmal, worst it’s been in years, everything consumed by that bleak sort of nihilism - not the liberating kind but the kind that smothers the color from the daylight. Suicidal ideation and bouts of self harm have reared their ugly heads as delusional BPD episodes grow more frequent and intense. Blackouts and bouts of drug induced psychosis and catatonic panic; “incidents” as termed between me and my spouse have become dispiritingly regular occurrences. Each week is a whiplash of wild mood swings, languid depression and bouts of frenzied mania, one day after another. It's hard to really know what to feel. Does this make the drug use worse? Or is the drug use fueling this instability? It’s a chicken/egg sorta thing.

A lot of misfortune befell this year, certainly a factor in everything. I lost a dear friend to a drug overdose, they were a lifelong fighter, the most free and liberated person I have ever met and one of the toughest, one who inspired so much hope in me, for whom I held so much respect. Their loss felt like a true loss for the whole world. Rest In Peace Koda. As mentioned before I contracted COVID-19 twice, after avoiding it for 3 years. I don’t know what effect this has had on my overall state of being, it’s so difficult to determine. I was whipped by an irrationally heartbreaking rejection, from the same person twice! I ran into deeply stressful financial and legal hiccups. My country has committed itself fully to the genocide of the Palestinians of Gaza, and all I can do is watch helplessly. This course of events has by proxy strained my relationship with one of my closest friends. All of the memories from this year are dulled and blurry. I’ve found myself more often at odds with my spouse, I’ve found my temper shorter, myself less and less patient, and I’m terrified I am going to do or say something I will regret and won’t be able to recover from. 

There’s been good things too- Beautiful times spent with dear friends, sometimes fueled by drugs, sometimes not. Times in nature, under the glorious sun among the trees and insects. I took a few wonderful trips with my spouse or my friends and saw such beautiful things and had such beautiful experiences. Seizing every chance to be outside in the summer heat in the everlasting pursuit of insect life. I met new lovers and rekindled old ones. I got really into painting warhammer 40k and dub music and they have both served as a comfortable grounding meditative routine. I began seeing a therapist, for better or worse. Many of these things feel, relative to the bad, trivial, but I am grateful for what respite I have gotten. 

My time at a certain well known pharmacology lab has come to an end with the expiration of my contract. I’ve ended on good terms and will hopefully continue to collaborate with this lab in some capacity. I am deeply grateful for the time I spent there, for the people I met and the experiences I had. My colleagues were some of the most brilliant people I have ever met and it was an honor to work alongside them, to actually be included and respected among such giants. Their contributions have been and will be immense! Shoutout especially to the undergrads whom I mentored- I might not know much but I’m glad I could impart what experience and knowledge I had! You will be giants in this field. Despite the fun times, the joking and socializing, the feeling of being a part of something revolutionary in a burgeoning field, just how damn cool it was to get paid to make drugs, I think I am ready to end this chapter of my life and move on to other things. Through experience, I learned that chemistry just isn’t for me. I miss being outside, I miss the sun beating down my skin, the rain soaking through my clothes, I miss fighting through underbrush and stomping through mud and driving on dirt roads. I miss working with animals and being immersed in biodiversity, in being able to stop to look at a cool bug or a snake or a turtle while on the clock. I miss being forced to watch the sunrise on a misty morning, of the smell of sap heated by the summer sun, of coming home dirty and sweaty and torn up by thorns and insect bites, not smelling of sulfur and ether and rotten cheese, feeling like I am truly a part of this beautiful natural world as it has always existed. I miss spending my time inside sifting through and organizing vast libraries of specimens, of encountering Earth’s wondrous diversity firsthand in physical form. I would like to go back into Entomology or maybe marine invertebrate Zoology. But most of all, I miss feeling competent.

My work in chemistry was saturated with imposter syndrome- but it truly genuinely felt valid, not a delusion in the least. I don’t fundamentally understand chemistry. I am forced to confront this when extremely basic gaps in my knowledge come to a head. Just humiliating beginner level stuff that I can’t seem to wrap my head around. I don't understand stereochemsitry. If you named common reactions I couldn't tell you which reagents would be used and what the desired outcome would be. For fucks sake, I couldn't even really tell you what an sn1, sn2, and elimination reaction really are, what their utility is or how you would achieve them. That's not imposter syndrome, that is genuinely and objectively not understanding the fundamentals of the field. My lack of foundation was more noticeable every day, it was unsustainable and would have reached some sort of breaking point had my contract not expired.

I still did accomplish a lot. I am proud of what I accomplished. I synthesized ~90 completely novel compounds. By the end of my term I was completely independent, devising my own methods and optimizations and troubleshooting my own problems. Despite my massive shortcomings in the field, I made it work for the time I was doing it, I produced an end result, my compounds were ultra pure, USP grade for analysis. A dear old friend was able to do various binding and affinity assays - the feeling of collecting data on compounds that I made for the first time ever is incomparable.

Some compounds were submitted for patents- the majority of my work (I have complicated feelings about this but I have to be pragmatic about how this work can happen). They will likely be slated for publication some day too. Until anything is published I sadly cannot go into much detail about them, though there’s a lot I would like to say! The last series was a project completely my own- I decided what compounds I would make, I determined their structures based on what I knew about SAR, I went ahead and synthesized them, most of them made for the first time ever. This series consists of arylcyclohexylamines, made through a novel route that was devised and optimized by my colleagues and I. I am very excited to talk about these more, which I hope to do in the near future- likely in late summer pending some other work. This will hopefully be a publication with me as one of the primary authors. 

Nevertheless, I am hoping that my time ending there will help improve my life in ways that I cannot disclose. All I will say is that certain aspects of the job served to the detriment of my sobriety. Being away from drugs in my day to day life will hopefully help me to recover somewhat. 

Recovery :’) imagine. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to recover. At all. I enjoy doing drugs, I still enjoy doing drugs, when I’m not on them I think about them all the time. Despite being detrimental to my mental and physical health, despite all of the “incidents”, despite how much it is interfering with me living a worthwhile productive life, despite how it is eroding my relationships, despite it being completely unsustainable and setting myself up for a disastrous future- I still love them. One could call that addiction. I still have, every now and then, experiences that are wonderful and beautiful and profound, ones that rekindle the fire of my life. Ones that genuinely feel beneficial and productive to my life. Or even ones that just provide a steady and familiar comfort, or that seem to keep the deepest depths of despair at bay to some degree, for some time. My use has always been excessive but there was a time I considered it moderate before I fell into using every day- something like using dissociatives once or twice a week, which I know seems, once again, ludicrously excessive to most. But I maintained this frequency for several years without much issue. My desire is to go back to something like that, where they are a feature of my life, a treat reserved for sparing occasions, not a habit that overshadows and colors everything. But I know too that this is intensely idealistic - that I have already tasted the sweetness of using every day and now I can never go back- at first I began finding excuses to use every night even though I didn’t plan to before- “oh I’m feeling a little sad; oh work was stressful; oh I’m seeing x person; oh I’m engaging with x media” and I imagine it would be near impossible to work myself out of that mindset. Or even if I do find moderation, it would be exceedingly difficult to avoid going down that path and falling into a daily habit again. Now that I know how it can be, now that I know what I can get away with, I fear there is no going back. The only options are continue the way it is or total abstinence. Both seem bleak.

I think I would rather die than give this up. The world seems like a place I am simply maladapted for. It's hard to imagine getting older again, it's hard to exist with any kind of long term in mind. In my mind I am just enjoying what moments I have left. Everyone else is dying. 

I have become avoidant of all of my friends, I only want time alone, I only want time alone to do drugs. I rarely see anyone, I offer little to anyone, to the people that offer so much to me, I rarely have the energy to see anyone. I don't know why anyone cares to maintain a relationship with me that I am not able to maintain myself. Maybe if they forget about me less people will be hurt should anything happen. I don't want to be around anyone much anymore.

No one can break my will to do what I want. I will just lie more, I will learn how to be even more quiet. What is to be done with this? At least I get what I want. 

The drugs are what I think about. They are what I care about. Much else falls to the wayside. But I tell myself that it makes delectable what is left. I will not allow myself to be treated. I refuse it, I will fight it, I will complain but god help me will I be motivated to do anything about it. 

"Freedom is beautiful and terrible its nothing soft and sweet... It's watching people die because they got back in it, and knowing that I don't have any say in it."

This next year will bring about a several months sabbatical from my normal life where I will be traveling through Southeast Asia and Oceania. I will likely not have access to any drugs during this time, and no real exposure to them. A part of me is hoping, perhaps in vain, that this is going to be my miracle cure, that time away will allow for my brain to reset, for the cravings to fade, but only time will tell if that is how things will play out. I could very well return home and immediately just go back to square one. Or perhaps the change of perspective will break that habit, shake that desire- maybe I will stop altogether, or maybe I will shift back into that pie-in-the-sky fantasy of using in moderation. I recognize that like much of the rest of my life, i entrust these results to twists of fate, inscrutable games of neural function, rather than any amount of effort on my part. I don’t want to change. I just want things to change around me.

Anyways, I did write a little bit about drugs;

I personally corroborated reports that what was being sold as FXE (3-F-2’-oxo-PCE) was really 2F-3’-oxo-PCE.

I summarized the result of a colleagues doctoral dissertation analyzing structure activity relationships of diarylethylamines.

I did an AMA on Reddit while very manic on pregabalin and 3-MeO-PCiPr while sick with COVID. I don’t think it went very well or represented me well, because I answered everything in a state of arrogant mania. I wish I could redo it with a clearer head. 

Ok that’s it really. 

Now then, I suppose I can try to offer my usual ranking of drugs that I have tried this year, even in the absence of any reports. There are some things I cannot really speak on for the time being. But I will attempt to discuss those that I can.

1. 3-MeO-PCiPr - This is my bread and butter. I love this compound so much. It’s like a smoother gentler 3-MeO-PCE, perfect for casual use, perfect for exploring the world, but still insightful at higher doses. Deeply pleasant and euphoric.

Dose: 20-30 mg IN

Duration: ~6-8 hours total 

2. 3,4-MD-PCiPr- Another stimulating dissociative, this one has a powerful psychedelic edge, it is deeply euphoric, excellent for socializing and dancing when taken in the right context. It is only ranked lower because it is not as forgiving as 3-MeO-PCiPr and can be prone to runaway paranoia.                                                        Dose: 20-30 mg IN                                                 Duration: ~8 hours total 

3. Oxazepam- hands down the most euphoricand recreational benzo I’ve taken yet. Just a pleasant soft imaginative euphoria, the kind I’ve been chasing in benzos for forever.

4. Midazolam- a fun floppy impairing benzo. Great to get wasted on. But so damn expensive. 

5. 4-HO-MsBT- A fairly standard tryptamine psychedelic with a short duration. I didn’t find it as euphoric or insightful as 4-HO-DsBT, but it’s still worthwhile. I wish I could experience it without being taxed by the bodyload. 

6. Morphine- A classic opioid. Not much to say, it’s the universal standard and it feels like it. 

7. GBL- I like GHB/1,4-BDO, this is fun too but god damn does it taste awful. Hard to get down.

8. 3F-DCK- Honestly I need to explore a higher dose but what I gathered was that it was a fairly dull standard heavy dissociative, like an even less exciting ketamine, not too potent either. But worst of all, the burn from snorting it is blistering. 

9. Bromomescaline- A bright stimulating psychedelic that ultimately was mostly just physical discomfort for me.

10. Nitrazepam- A short sleepy benzo. Not too fun but pretty useful.

11. 3-MeO-PCPy - Like how b-phenethylamine is described in neuromancer. Just a blinding almost painful explosion of stimulation. Doesn’t feel that dissociating even. 

12. Prolintane- Just an anxious uncomfortable stim. Bleh. 

There were a few things I tried but not in a high enough dose to really feel effects; namely, 2 Diphenidine analogues. I haven’t done much exploration with these (or for that matter any of the ones I tried last year) because a. I am too busy being addicted to dissociatives that guarantee me a good time and b. I don’t have time for the week long cross tolerance to other dissociatives that this could potentially give me. Titrating up the diarylethylamines is a slow and boring process. 

TPP: This is Diphenidine but with a thiophene ring in the a-position. Nomenclature from Dr. Mike Dybek’s dissertation, which showed that this should be active to a degree but I haven’t found the dose yet. Kinda just on backburner. 

3-MeO-PCA: I’m honestly not sure if this is active. Looking at affinity I still feel like it could be, I would just need a lot of it, which I haven’t tried yet. I’m not sure if any studies on the PCAs have been done in vivo in any form. 

2-Br-Diphenidine: Same story as TPP above. Maybe someday.

Tramadol: Tried it, felt it a little, couldn’t do more. Considering how badly it combines with other things and my consistent state of polydrug abuse it probably isn’t safe for me to take this nowadays. I already have had a full experience with O-DSMT, close enough. 

Since you’ve read this far, I’ll let you in on a little secret; I’ve studied a few entirely novel compounds during 2024 that have proven very interesting! I hope one day I will be able to elucidate the fortunate circumstances by which I came to try these. I will revisit them after my sabbatical to take detailed notes and write reports but these are my brief impressions so far:

PCiPr: a slow burning dissociative that is subtle at first, then comes around and smacks me in the face. It really sneaks up on you. It’s a warm pleasant mania with a suprising amount of physical heft. There is a very long lasting afterglow, usually going into the next day. 

Dose: 20 mg IN

Duration: ~16 hours total

3-Me-PCiPr: This one kinda sucks. It is hell to dose intranasally, the burn is extreme and long lasting. The effects are anxious and dysphoric. Not eager to revisit. 

Dose: 15 mg IN

Duration: ~4-6 hours total 

3-F-PCiPr: This one is super smooth and euphoric, a really pleasant empathogenic mania pervades along with a sense of soft comfort. This one is a delight. 

Dose: 120 mg sublingual 

Duration: ~5-7 hrs total 

3-MeO-PCsBu (racemic): Here’s an odd character; this is a dissociative that seems to have little in the way of classical physical dissociative effects but comes through mainly as an intense mania, pure mental dissociation. Plenty of stimulation too: Seems like it could be dangerous.

Dose: 20 mg intranasal 

Duration: ~5-7 hours total

The following compounds were ingested but I did not find a threshold dose for them. I intend to revisit all of them after my break. 

3-MeS-PCP: That is with a thiomethyl group instead of a methoxy. Worked up to ~20 mg intranasal with hardly any threshold effect. Unpleasant to snort, kinda stinky. 

2-MeO-PCiPr: Tried up to 30 mg intranasal with no discernible effect.

3-EtO-PCiPr: Tried up to 50 mg intranasal, no discernible effect.

3-EtO-PCP: Tried up to 30 mg intranasal, no discernible effect but it seemed to potentiate other dissociatives taken later on in the night.

3,4-MD-PCPr: On paper this one is really interesting - very high affinity, and one of the most selective NMDA antagonists known. Took up to 15 mg intranasal with no discernible effects. A later 60 mg trial demonstrated remarkable anesthetic effects.