Age: 29
Weight:
140 lbs
Dosage:
28 mg intransal
Setting: At home, a hot summer day, after
running a bunch of errands.
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.
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