MALT

 Age: 26

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 50 mg vaporized

Setting: My house

 

Preface: MALT is the base form of the Methyl-ALlyl Tryptamine family, unsubstituted for pleasure. The allyl group it bears has the distinction of containing a double bond. This is better known  in the di-allyl tryptamine family, DALT.

The other relatives of MALT that I have encountered were 5-MeO-MALT and 4-HO-MALT. While 5-MeO-MALT has been around for many years, 4-HO-MALT is a more recent development, and the base compound MALT has mostly been extremely rare and only become easily available very recently. 4-HO-MALT was a short acting and mild psychedelic that was curiously nearly devoid of any bodyload. 5-MeO-MALT was interesting, intense, and dissociating but ultimately felt pretty uncomfortable. I had little idea what to expect from the base MALT.

I only encountered this compound as a fumarate salt. While it is seemingly common knowledge that one should never vaporize fumarates due to the formation of irritating and potentially toxic maleic anhydride, I find this risk to be greatly exaggerated. A reasonable amount of almost any vaporized fumarate salt of a tryptamine would not produce a meaningful amount of maleic anhydride that would post any serious threat to health, or even any irritation. There is some loss in potency vs. the freebase due to the weight of the fumarate salt, but this is the only negative effect that holds water in my opinion. While the best amount of toxic maleic anhydride to be exposed to is none, I decided for myself that vaporizing this amount just this one time did not present significant risk.

There is a conclusion of the experience at the end. Overall it had a very short duration, was somewhat mild and boring, and was surprisingly visual, unlike many base tryptamines. My brain mostly did not know what to do with itself, though this substance did not lead itself to much activity beyond just lying around. This is a very short report for me because it was a very short experience, I do not have too much to say.

T0:00- Melted a puddle in an oil burner pipe and vaporized it, this one isn’t too bad to vaporize. Muted flavor, mild and smooth.

 

T0:15- I spent the last 15 minutes nursing and swirling and cooking the melted tryptamine, sucking off the little swirls of vapor. This seems to take a decently high temperature to really get going and I was able to pull a few large hits. Effects crept up as I vaporized it, bits of stimulation and discomfort. At last, when the puddle is finally dry, it crashes in. I hurtle towards a looming peak. It comes down on me like a diaphanous avalanche, a sudden sunken feeling. I am so suddenly sweaty, jittery, and shaky. There is a sensation of cooling and rising all over and across my body.

Faint visuals begin to display on the ceiling- drifting and dancing fractal forms like the sutures of certain ammonite shells, wriggling and determined lines that wave and drift across its surface, cast in deep violet. I close my eyes and I am greeted by cavernous spaces decorated with large, simple forms in dull colors placed in regular patterns. There is little motion beyond the drifting one might expect from a wide river, there is little light, just a hollow. Visuals do seem to arise more with my eyes open, they are glassy and ghostly but they are present- I gaze at my ceiling and see fronds and palmettos radiating and shooting off into drifting infinities, faint violet and pulsing with stripes of green. The fronds, the sutures, the fractals, the radials, they all lazily drift across the ceiling, bumping, swirling, intermixing; faint and hardly discernible but certainly there. It is like a parade of diatoms slowly drifting by, all of them flowing past and amongst each other, no direction, no intention. The forms swirl and billow in their drifts like vapor.

 

T0:20- The intensity peaks more and more, I begin to feel a little uncomfortable- perhaps I’ve overshot it? I feel cold, all I want to do is bundle up with blankets and cuddle up and wrap myself in soft things. I am lying here, splayed out on the bed, tossing in the tumults of the MALT-ocean, the biting crests and froths and sprays of its waves pepper my face, it all adds up to what should be an uncomfortable experience but ultimately, it really isn’t. I feel at ease, I feel comfortable, there is a pleasantry to this.

My mind is just completely blank. I don’t know what to think about, I feel like I should be thinking about something but I can’t really affix myself to anything. I don’t feel any urge to ponder memories, to consider my surroundings, to read about the wider world around me, I just sit there and exist. Not in any Zen sense, there is an anxiety to it, an impatience, it is like my brain is anxiously waiting for something that it knows deep down will never come. I am adrift in this transitional purgatory until the whole ordeal can be sorted out, my brain rendered to a loading screen replete with some nice imagery like the hold music on a telephone.

Maybe I don’t need to think, maybe I don’t need to engage. Many psychedelics give me compulsions, a compulsion to go outside, expend energy, better myself- this is just a blank slate. Perhaps I am not seeking anything in my life as it stands, and that has manifested in this space, a mind in an empty room with no purpose. I am at a loss for words. I am at a loss for thoughts. I feel like I am perhaps wasting my time here. If I stroll into MALT’s office with no questions, I will receive no answers. Though a part of me wonders what answers this compound would even have to offer- is it that my mind was simply absent, or that the compound lent itself to my absence? But I have no choice but to linger as the chemical flows through my synapses. I look at my screen and the words are rising and drifting off of it.

 

T0:30- The discomfort across my body has given way to a warmer and more soothing sensation. This is nice, I am rolling around on the bed, taking pleasure in the sensation of soft things against my body. The cat is here too and snuggling with him is another warmth and delight. This seems to be the comedown phase of the experience already. My flow of thoughts has changed too, from that blank absence now to a more familiar psychedelic state, in which my mind flows free and builds connections and associations naturally and organically with great articulation and logic, this is a curious thing to meditate on and ponder. That the peak was almost inhibiting, but once its grip had been released, the neurons can stretch and breathe and form something insightful and meaningful with one another.

 

T0:40- It is quietly filtering out, it is nothing but a gentle and nostalgic relaxation by this point, visuals are present but muted. Nausea has receded mostly. Stimulation lingers.

 

T0:50- There are still occasional visual flashes and flutters, this is nice, one visual that stands out is purple and green stripes on my blinds and pulsing vibrating stripes like guitar strings on the walls, but there is little else. Most of the physical sensations have faded by now.

 

T1:30- Back to baseline.

 

Conclusion: MALT joins the pantheon of base tryptamines as yet another mild and short-lasting experience. While it is more visual and introspective than many other base tryptamines, it still pales in comparison to any tryptamine’s 4-HO or 4-AcO analogue. I gained little insight into the overarching qualities of the MALT family. Beyond the visual flourish, there was little to be gained from this compound in such a short amount of time. All I could really do was sit or lie in a daze and think, save for the end when a pleasant state of psychedelia settled in, displacing an initial slight discomfort from the initial administration of this compound. This was a simple and novel curiosity and not one I will likely be revisiting except perhaps in combinations with other drugs.

PiPT

 Age: 26

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 30 mg vaporized

Setting: My house

Preface: PiPT is an unsubstituted base tryptamine, composed of a propyl and an isopropyl group paired with each other on the ethylamine. This is seen in its name, which follows the basic tryptamine naming convention of combining the names of the carbon chains on that ethylamine (e.g. MET is methyl-ethyl tryptamine; PiPT is propyl-isopropyl tryptamine).

While there are a handful of scattered older reports PiPT and its analogues didn’t reach the general public until the last few years. Currently on the market are 4-HO-PiPT and 5-MeO-PiPT. I have only sampled 4-HO-PiPT, which was an interesting little chemical, short but visual, dazzling, and quite intense. It’s impossible to discern any common qualities of the base compound or any of its other analogues from only having tried just one member of the compound’s family. Thus I had no idea what to expect out of base PiPT at all, beyond the dose and duration.

The sample came to me in the form of a solid chunk of sticky tan wax. It was somewhat malleable but would crack and crumble with enough force. It was quite tacky and most of it stuck to the bag. My house is fairly cold so I wonder if it would be more workable if warmed up even to body temperature.

I should also mention that this was the fumarate salt, as this was the only form in which this compound was available. I was too lazy to make it into a freebase. The oft repeated axiom is that one should never vaporize a fumarate, as partial combustion of the free fumaric acid will produce the toxic maleic anhydride. I find this supposed risk to be entirely overblown and is just parroted by people without much thought. While maleic anhydride can be an irritant and is hazardous in large doses, the quantity that would be produced by vaporizing 30 mg of a fumarate salt is so small as to be almost entirely negligible in terms of health. Of course, the best amount of exposure to maleic anhydride is none at all, but I considered the issue and decided it was within an acceptable level of risk to me. I noted nothing that would indicate that I had consumed some extraneous toxin beyond the occasional harshness of the smoke, something that can come from combustion of nearly anything. The weight of the fumarate salt also results in a slight loss of potency relative to the freebase. Thus, a dose of the freebase may be slightly lower than the dose listed here.

There is a tl;dr conclusion of the effects at the end of the report. This report is short- it was a short and fairly mild experience though I see no value in pushing for a higher dose than this.

 

T0:00- I am kicked back on my couch, an oil burner style pipe in hand. The compound is in the form of a sticky wax. It quickly melts to a puddle, I tease the flame and get swirls of vapor, it goes down remarkably smoothly. There is that expected tryptamine flavor, some composite of burning plastic or scatole or burnt pumpkin. The first two hits aren’t too big but I am already feeling a stimulated buzz- though this could be placebo. I continue to nurse my puddle and tease the flame and wick vapor off bit by bit.

 

T0:08- I am still running down the little puddle that’s formed, chasing vapor from its fringes. I am beginning to see a lot of grainy multicolored visual snow and there is a tightly wound tension in my muscles, like they are bound in great green ropes, pulling ever tighter.

There is a bit of a cramp in my abdomen. The flavor sticks to my throat and my muscles are beginning to tremor and shake, a sure sign of my serotonin going off-kilter

 

T0:14- My heart is racing faster and I feel a bit sweaty. I continue to cook the pipe as my head is swimming and spinning around me, the world pulsing on my skull. I burn some of the compound, there’s a few rough hits, some coughing. All the gifts of pyrolysis hit my lungs. There is a welling, punching nausea, but not much else to say. I get a shiver.

 

T0:17- I have finally gotten the last of the chemical from the pipe, my technique could use some work. I put my paraphernalia aside and lie back and stretch out. Beads of tactile euphoria pulse down my neurons as I stretch, a pleasant, body-affirming and grounding feeling. Stretching and reclining in the full sun on the couch right now is heavenly, I am bathed in gold. There are no visuals to speak of beyond some visual snow, but the corners of my vision now buzz with increased energy, the snow vibrating faster and faster. Stretching and languishing feels good but there is a tick, an energetic compulsion to do something else. There is a restlessness strung between the cozy valleys of this compound.

 

T0:20- I step into the backyard, I smoke a few hits of cannabis, it is bitterly cold outside and the wind sweeps the leaves in vast swaying arcs. The sky pulses on me, as if the weight of the great grey above me cannot fully be processed. My eyes bounce around excitedly to take in my surroundings, take stock in the grounded beauty of these great heavy buildings stark against the grey sky, the littlest visual ripples and pulses feeding added depth to the image. In the visual aspect, there was no color to speak of, just a sense my eyes framing my surroundings as ideal and perfect compositions, each radiating their latent energy of aesthetic perfection as concentric heat waves, warbling my vision.

The cannabis softens the edges, it sands off the restlessness, soothes my abdomen, files down all the jagged points.

I am grinding my jaw a great deal so I chew some gum and then go back inside.

 

T0:28- I fall into reading my own writing, shiftless navel-gazing; It comes off as strange and foreign, like hearing a recording of my own voice. Do I really sound like this? Do I really present like this? What image of myself is projected in this writing? My thoughts flow freely like a swarm of eels slipping past each other in the ocean with frictionless resolve. Every new thought blossoms like a rapidly growing mushroom-I want to tend to it but- another flush has miraculously instantly sprouted elsewhere! Ideas bubble and burgeon, thoughts generate with excitement, but the flow is interrupted, it dams up, a crystalline stream adorned with the floating petals of thoughts reaches an obstacle, it is me. It is my languid, tired mind damming the stream, the bubbling thoughts clustering and accumulating as they falter against me, my strung-out brain only really able to lazily pluck one or two thoughts to examine and process. My brain is giving me a lot of things to work with, my brain is also not in the mood to work with anything. It feels tired. It feels like wasted energy. The flow of thoughts is an auroral torrent in the sky, but I am a tired mind that can only stare lazily at their beauty.

I decide to slow down, close my eyes, see what a less sensory space may bring me-

Few visuals form, those that do look like stains, scratches, scuffs and scrapes, there are forms but they are vague and indistinct, distant and foggy. There are no patterns, no rhyme, no reason, a seeming wastebin of discarded visual information. I open my eyes and I am back in the same room. It looks the same, not much to note. Open eyed visuals are probably indistinguishable from my background HPPD.

 

T0:38- This feels like the plateau of a peak. Nothing more builds, everything has presented itself in full. I go upstairs and hang out with our new kitten, he's small and wily and mischievous.  No issues with mobility or motor control. I feel like I am in a certain psychedelic headspace, analytical, verbose, a clearly articulated inner voice. The experience ultimately feels very neutral.

T0:47- The cat is cuddled up against me, he’s young and cuddly and extremely affectionate, this is so delightful. He sits on my chest and purrs. I’m flooded with feelings of love and adoration, I close my eyes and only see dim swirling lights, I am so sublimely comfortable.

I am fully coherent and cognizant, I can read and comprehend, I have just been reading news stories from around the world and reading about geopolitics. Covid is still spiking in my region, joyous. The new variant lurks over us all.

There’s very little good news but I don’t really care, this moment is blissful, overwhelmingly tranquil and positive. I am here, listening to music I love on a nice big soft bed, I am exploring the wonders of a novel psychedelic, I am flush with the swirling thoughts this compound has imparted to me; The sun is shining through the blinds, casting patterns that shimmer in the serotonin fog. There is an adorable little animal snuggled up against me. All feels right. I close my eyes and the visuals are now great sweeps of colors, pulsars flooding me with movements of blue and movements of red, great and luminescent and impossibly vast. Great indistinct forms like great colors drift above me like airships in the sky.

 

T1:00- The overall intensity of the experience has taken a definite step down. Nausea persists and rises again, I am cuddling with the cat, everything is gentle and hanging low like a soothing fog. My body still feels tense and pulled tight. The already light visuals have faded to be near indistinct.

 

T1:12- Feeling the experience as little more than mental stimulation and muscle tension.

 

T1:35- Another wave of nausea builds, another round of tension and discomfort. It is mostly on its way out now though

 

T2:30- Almost entirely back to baseline.

 

Conclusion: I find most base tryptamines to be short and mild and fairly difficult to adequately describe, often lacking in visuals or much depth, just mysterious little cousins to their more traditionally psychedelic analogues (There are of course exceptions, like DiPT or DPT). PiPT however, was no exception to this. It was a mild and manageable experience, almost devoid of visuals with an induced laziness. It left me in a languid haze punctuated with flashes of nervous energy and tension. While being fairly mild and dull, there were also moments of bliss, euphoria, and profound contentment. All of these qualities would come and go and ebb and flow across the 2-and-a-half-hour duration of the experience. Perhaps a surprising amount of variation for such a short amount of time, but even then, these changes were slight and subtle and strayed little from the base character of this compound: a quiet and tame neutrality. I don’t think there is much value in going beyond a dose this high, my racing heart and nausea told me that there were likely diminishing returns beyond this point, though perhaps I am wrong about that. I see no need to revisit this any time soon except perhaps in combination with other compounds.