2024 in Review

It's halfway through the year, looks like I procrastinated.

I am doing better than this post in the current moment actually. But I will talk about that later. That is things in motion that I will not post about until they are settled. I'm ok, I have stability and routine in my life again.

 

[tw: self harm, suicide, addiction]

 

 

I am still going to write this from the perspective that the year has just ended. I am going to pretend to be ignorant to the lessons and experiences I have had so far in 2025. I will discuss those in 6-12 months from now. 

 

There really isn't too much to say this time. I am doing bad. I am doing well sometimes, but not as often. I ended 2024 on an extremely dark note, in a well of unemployment, uncertainty about my future, aimless time, listlessness, bouts of insane mania buttressed by deep cavities of depression. I drove out at sunrise one morning and sat beneath a bridge without my phone with a vial of cyanide in my pocket. I have branded and cut  myself all over my body. I am at the mercy of violent mood swings, accelerated by rampant drug use. I have consciously stated many intentions to quit, and have kept to it for periods of time, but ultimately I have always failed and crumbled at that. I have lied and schemed to continue my addiction, I have betrayed and concerned the ones I love, I have made feeble attempts at seeking treatment that have all hit dead ends. I am untreated and without direction.

If I can review the year, it was beautiful and glorious in ways that are so far apart from drugs that have pulled me into the depth of our grand beautiful world. I embarked on a belated honeymoon with the love of my life- a month and a half in my motherland, Malaysia, among the jungle, among my relatives, among Islam, colorful and diverse, so many creatures living and fighting. My spouse learned to scuba dive and climbed a mountain in Borneo with me, it felt like pushing myself to my physical limits but I accomplished it. I celebrated a unique bicycle day, through pure happenstance and with great difficulty I obtained a single tab of LSD in Malaysia- The trip was fantastic and unreal, experienced in the Jungles of the motherland, the sound of insects and Azans and thunderstorms washing over me, on the other side of the world. It was the first time I truly felt the mass and depth and volume of this great sphere of iron and silicon and magnesium. I felt the glory of Islam and the glory of dedicated and disciplined prostration before a greater power. We next went to Vietnam and traveled the length of it, exploring the caves of Phong Nha – Kẻ Bàng National Park, I  bought gabapentin at a pharmacy in Da Nang and got loaded for a 20 hour bus ride to Ho Chi Minh City. I did nitrous in a gay bar and saw the tunnels the Viet Cong used to fight America. I fired an AK-47 and stood on the remains of a destroyed tank. I went to Australia, met lovely people in Melbourne and Sydney, people fighting hard for indigenous liberation and a free Palestine, there were too many beautiful experiences in Australia to count- I did LSD again, this time in the Sydney botanical gardens, it is incredible that this humble little molecule, in its microgram doses, has crept across the entire world, eager prophets and acolytes ready to spread its secrets to the willing in every place! Everyone trips, everywhere. The capstone to this was accomplishing a lifelong achievement- scuba diving in the great barrier reef. When I was a child we rented a National Geographic Documentary VHS tape on the Great Barrier Reef and I watched it on repeat. I swore to visit this glorious place, and it was everything I expected and more. Beautiful adventure, vibrant life, so much living on so much. 

It felt like a capstone to life. I never expected to make it this far. I checked something off of the list of things I wanted to do. Should I be content with the chapters I have written? Should I be content with the contributions I have made to the world? Should I strive to do more? Will I feel content if I were to die right now? The trip ended, as all trips inevitably do. 

The beginning of the year I spent still working in a chemistry lab, synthesizing new drugs. In the home stretch, I had finished the projects I was contracted for so I was mostly just grinding out new compounds as fast as I could. I busted my ass for a few months in contrast to my usual laziness and indolence in the lab and made some beautiful things. I left for a trip. I came back to nothing. No job, no prospects. I attempted to apply to graduate school (ok, anachronistic spoiler alert I failed), I applied to many jobs. My life was adrift, all of the seeming accomplishments I had built- the glory of bringing my spouse to the motherland, hiking my favorite mountain together, seeing the great barrier reef, writing more trip reports than almost anyone other than Shulgin, trying so many drugs, inventing new drugs- all meaningless in the tides of capitalism but ultimately all meaningless in the tides of my own impulse towards hedonism and self destruction. I never expected to make it this far- every year feels like a victory lap. I assumed I would've killed myself or overdosed or been killed doing something stupid and reckless. I didn't plan for any of this. I don't have the funds or means to maintain this dissociative addiction long term. Substituting for other compounds like pregabalin or carisoprodol is its own host of problems. I am trapped and shooting off into an empty darkness I never thought I would encounter, one I never prepared to encounter, a whole damn adulthood. 

People often tell me they are surprised at my age. I assume it is that I come off as immature, the spirit of a wild clout-chasing teenager. I don't know how to act my age because I never thought I would be this age. It's disorienting. 

 

I abstained from dissociatives (other than nitrous) for 3 and a half months. I thought of them constantly, I had dreams about doing them. My experiences were wonderful. There were times when I thought "I wish I was dissed right know". There were frankly, times where I was very glad I was not dissed. It was near-psychoactive to see the sun peak over the island of Borneo, an amber sky chasing away the violet night as the first glorious rays of light hit the peaks of mount Kinabalu. The thin icy air, my body pushed to its physical limits aching, groaning, my heart raging to keep going on. These were not normal circumstances, my mind was not its normal self, you can find this in so many places. Looking out of the vine-laced mouth of a cave into the valleys of Tân Hoá with its forested limestone pinnacles, soaked in slick jungle cave water. Drifting between the towering coral bommies and peaking into the little crevasses for the millions of tiny fish and invertebrates buzzing and swimming in their perfect infinitely complex ecological harmony! But this isn't a travel blog- it goes to say I abstained for a long time. I guess I can manage it if I am not at home.

 

At home it is very different. I immediately sank back into old patterns. I abused drugs heavily. An ideal combo for me in this phase would be something like 3-MeO-PCE to start, maybe a bit of 3-MeO-PCP later, some little bumps of FXE at points, pregabalin in this system for some extra depth, then later a heavy hole, ketamine, DCK, 2F-DCK, FXE, DMXE, were the choices to add weight and sink into a hole and enter my lovely "sandbox" space where I am god, the creator, I can generate a body and imagery at will. It's sensational. This was habitual. Perhaps I would also take a benzo to sleep, usually temazepam or flunitrazepam or triazolam these days. Or I would stay up with it, hit cocaine or 3-Me-PCPy to keep rocking in a blackout. How deeply deeply fucked up. 

 

After one too many incidents a breaking point was reached, I said I would quit, I got a safe, entrusted the keys to my spouse, and locked the collection in the vault. Of course I found loopholes. I was still dosing experimental compounds to write reports, for the good of knowledge I guess. This system sometimes kept me at bay- they are not all entirely pleasant. I would squirrel things for the times the vault was unlocked for special occasions or for scientific analysis. I could still order and receive things. I abused the remaining ones that were some degree of fun. I substituted for other drugs. I am not clean. I am failing this so badly. 

 

I am sorry to whine, but that is the current state of things. To break time again, I am seeking treatment options. I do not want to commit to inpatient. I love drugs so much. I cannot imagine a life without them. But that is obviously maladaptive. I need a life without them, or with much much much less of them, like everyone else.

 

Where am I going.

 

I didn't really try much new this year. Just old habits. 

Here are the new ones ranked:

1. 3-F-PCiPr - This is a truly miraculous compound, I love it so much, it goes so many directions, it is soft, it is intense, it can be confusing or disorienting, but it will always take care of me. The depth is immense, and low doses are a comforting delight. It felt like it had a nootropic afterglow, I think this one can be very useful. 

 

2. PCiPr- The everything dissociative. It lasts a very long time. It is hard to describe, it goes so many directions. It is heavy, functional, focused, confusing, manic, stimulating, sedating, and damn intense the whole way. Low doses are nice and sociable.

 

3. 3-MeS-PCiPr- This is just a less potent 3-MeO-PCiPr, it has the same essence but is muted and muffled in every sense. Too subtle. About 5x less potent than the corresponding 3-Methoxy compound. Full report hopefully coming soon.

 

4. 3-MeS-PCP- Similar to above, this is just a less potent 3-MeO-PCP, more subtle and muffled. I don't know if sulfur is a direction worth exploring with arylcyclohexylamines.

 

5. Flunitrazepam- I roofied myself and it was a lot of fun. Nice floppy euphoric short acting heavy benzo. Its nice when you do it to yourself.

 

6. 3-EtO-PCiPr- This one is really smooth and light and confusing, I need to work up the dose, I feel like I don't really understand it yet. 

 

7. 3-EtO-PCP- Another one that I have had a hard time finding a proper dose. Gets very intense very fast, very steep dose-response curve. But interesting. Not sure if I enjoy it.

 

8. 3-MeO-PCsBu- Okay I don't personally enjoy this one, but it is really really interesting- this drug is pure mania and stimulation, barely any dissociative effects, but apparently binds well to NMDA- It is so jittery and manic thoughts racing, it is a distinctively dissociative mania but there is no physical sensation. I wonder if there are biomarkers for mania in clinical trials, and if there are, I wonder if this drug could induce those biomarkers- may be of interest for research into treatment of bipolar disorder. Report someday.

 

9. 2-MeO-PCiPr- I haven't done enough of this to properly characterize it- a light  subtle dissociation so far.

 

10. 3-Me-PCiPr- Absolute hell to snort. Stimmy and uncomfortable. bleh.

 

 

 

I wonder if my parents read this blog now. I am so so so sorry.

 

 

O-PCPr

Age: 29

Weight: 140 lbs

Dosage: 90 mg intransal

Setting: At home. Very late at night. Just watched “The Truman Show” with my spouse. 

 

[Please note: I have developed a dissociative tolerance and I also prefer strong experiences. This is a massive dose for a normal person. For someone without a tolerance I would suggest starting at 20 mg for this compound. For someone without a tolerance an experience of similar intensity to mine would likely be found at the 50-60 mg range]

Per usual, the preface is a lot of chem and pharmacology jargon. Skip it if that is not of interest. An quick summary of the compound is at the end.

 

Preface:

O-PCPr was first detected when it was being sold as O-PCE at the end of 2024. Yet another egregious mislabeling error with dissociatives, as with the whole FXE fiasco. I am not sure if this is a failure on the part of QA or the development team in the labs producing these drugs. Nevertheless, a number of test samples that have been correctly labeled as O-PCPr have now been sent out from that same lab, indicating that they plan on offering it for wider sale soon, though this remains to be seen. Unlike my series of PCiPr analogues that have just been curiosity driven passion projects from small researchers, this one seems like it may actually have some market force behind it!

Identity of this compound was confirmed via ASAP-MS and 1H/13C NMR, which can be provided upon request.

O-PCPr follows a pretty logical path for the design of a novel arylcyclohexylamine. It is simple 2’-oxo-PCPr, no substitution on the phenyl ring. It is the same basic concept as DCK (which one could call O-PCM), or O-PCE.

With so many close relatives, what kind of effects can one predict from this drug before consuming it? This drug does exist in literature, it was actually among a series of compounds synthesized and analyzed for receptor affinity by my colleague Dr. Anush Abelian for her dissertation. The NMDA Ki value to related compounds in the paper like DCK, O-PCE, and MXPr, tells us is that this compound is probably less potent than its known relatives. Ki values often correlate to potency but don’t always cleanly correspond. I felt fairly comfortable starting with a higher dose when titrating this compound. And lo and behold, by my findings, if I took my tolerance out of the equation, I would say 50 mg of this would be equivalent to 40 mg of DCK or 25 mg O-PCE.

This opens up some interesting horizons with structure activity relations too. There aren’t too many PCPr based compounds floating around out there. The only comparisons I have are MXPr and 3,4-MD-PCPr. Both of which are quite unique. It is still hard to get a read on the general “vibe” of the propylamine series. What can be seen now is the pattern for 2’-Oxo-substituted arylcyclohexylamines. A methyl group has moderate affinity, activity spikes with an ethyl, and then falls back down again for a propyl, and presumably falls further with longer carbon chains (As an aside there is evidence that a sec-butyl amine is actually quite active and potent! But I maintain the prediction that an aliphatic (straight chain) butylamine would see a steady drop in affinity from the aliphatic propyl). The isopropyl configuration additionally seems to bind better than the long aliphatic propyl. This pattern is also seen in the 3-phenyl substituted analogues (in this case, MXM, MXE, MXPr, and MXiPr)- in which MXE is the most potent, MXM has a similar potency to MXPr, and MXiPr falls somewhere in between. (As an odd aside, per Abelian’s dissertation, the affinities of MXPr and MXiPr are actually higher than MXE! This is a case of affinity not fully correlating to in-vivo potency). This pattern maps on to the simple phenyl substituted ACH’s to some degree, and this is seen in Jason Wallach’s dissertation, though in this case, the methyl has a significantly lower affinity than the propyl. No idea how that would map onto in-vivo potency though, as we can see with the MX- style compounds, there is a clear divergence in that correlation sometimes.

Anyways, I digress, none of these numbers tell us what this drug is actually like! O-PCPr is short acting, heavy, smooth, insightful, suggestible, and ever so slightly stimulating beneath the heaviness. The headspace is fairly lucid throughout. Motor skills are pretty compromised, visuals are dark and neutral and indistinct. There are rushes of euphoria throughout. I think it is a fun compound that lends itself to casual use. If I want to make comparisons, it is like a more stimulating DCK. It bears little similarity to O-PCE or MXPr for that matter, it is a manageable headspace, there is no stultifying confusion. Even at moderate doses I was able to pull myself out of it and focus and function (which I did, during a devastating neighborhood crisis on one occasion). But it was nice to just sink in and get couchlocked by it. It is cozy and comfortable and smooth.

I will note that this compound seemed to slightly aggravate bladder and urinary symptoms. I am not sure if this is a personal sensitivity but I would suggest users to be vigilant of such effects and report them if experienced!

 

T0:00- Dose administered intranasally. Mild sting. Odor reminiscent of latex housepaint. Listening to Dub and relaxing on the couch.

 

T0:05- Spouse is telling me about intertidal spiders. I never knew those existed! I'm reading about marine insects now, the sea striders, Halobates. There is a slight dizziness but there is already an inquisitive and focused headspace that drives me to read about things, similar to what I experience from psychedelics. Some numbness and softness and clumsiness in my extremities already.

 

 

T0:08- It is hitting so fast. I am very dizzy. The room is spinning. My thoughts are still focused but it feels like they're starting to trip up on each other a little now and move more slowly. There is a distinct euphoric rush. It is hitting fast. I feel like I am sitting on an inflating balloon. Tracers begin to present visually.

 

T0:15- My head feels heavy, like there is a big metal cube inside of it. I am so dizzy, it feels dizzying to have my airy body support such weight. The room suddenly feels so drafty. There is a phantom sensation of wind all across my skin. I feel like I should be cold but I’m not. It feels like my entire body is wobbling and rippling in slow motion. It’s all so slow. My limbs are starting to feel so heavy and droopy like well-packed clay. There are open eyed visuals presenting as a sort of static or rainbow visual snow. There are no distinct patterns other than neat arrays of dots in a grid.

 

T0:30- I smoke a little bit of cannabis. I have just enough motor control for that. I feel so dense, everything is hitting so fast. Sounds are beginning to flange and reverberate. It feels like my entire visual field is shaking and flashing. I feel so heavy but my limbs also feel inflated by helium, it is as if all parts of me are floating up except for a dense heavy core anchoring the great balloon that is my consciousness and its perceptions of my body. I feel like a ball of lead on a vast plane of foil, sinking down and pulling the swirling ribbons of physicality around it as they dance in the persistent winds. I am a rock in the storm. There is such a gleeful rush to this feeling. My personal form is drooping and taking the form of the couch beneath it. I am sinking and sinking. I also need to pee. I am easily able to will myself up and walk upstairs, quite unsteadily.

 

T0:40- I am pretty dissed but I am able to talk to my spouse coherently. We chat about aquatic spiders and the behaviors of different spiders around water, like how fishing spiders will use the surface of water like an orb weaver would use its web- a vast vibrational field that can sense disturbances so they can be pursued. I too feel like the dainty hairy feet of the great Dolomedes spiders on the rippling surface of something immensely deep and dark. A hot air balloon drifting over a vast sinkhole. But instead of airy updrafts, the breeze pulls me in, deeper into its mouth, deeper into the hole. The depths beckon; I plug in headphones, turn off the lights, and play The Books’ final album “The Way Out”, a beautiful sound collage with excerpts from hypnosis and autogenic instructional tapes. I don’t normally opt for music with human voices so this proves to be an interesting experience.

I lie down and my body collapses into a puddle of quicksilver, dense and conforming to the surfaces it lies upon. Dim forms begin to materialize and loom over me, it feels like an entire shadowed world is laid out before me, an obscure geography begins to manifest in the sinuous violet deep rolling plains and unctuous pools and marshes before me, but as my balloon drifts over this nocturne fen-scape it seems the landscape comes up to greet me, geography folding in to encapsulate me, with the opaque black mirror still tannin bogs to my back, the tickling of the marshgrasses on my front and above me a hazy pastel twilight sky with no sun. This is a hole where my form feels relatively still in the mist, graced by the swirling dissociative winds, ready to be greeted upon by the synesthetic reactions to other stimuli. And so the multisensory and synesthetic experience continues onwards throughout the twists and turns of “The Way Out”, and in here I begin to feel my reaction-cognition suddenly grow more sensitive and unprotected as if bared away by the steady breeze: I keep finding unnerving little dysphonic notes in the music that I may not have sensed before; I can feel my thoughts spiraling fractally outwards in response to perceived negative stimulus hits from certain sounds. It all feels too exposed, it all feels too vulnerable. I feel like my brainstuff is on display, I feel at the mercy of a chemical that has laid my mechanisms bare. Thankfully this chemical is benign. All it will do with my neurons is slather them in buzzing syrup and let then all soak together. They will relax in their salon and feel sensitive and suggestible and safe.

There is still little sense of motion beyond slow and consistent following along tracks lacking something in dynamics of motion. As I ever so slowly drift, images and forms do still coalesce around my consciousness, fold in from the environment to make themselves apparent to me. This is a very solipsistic and lonely hole. With some compounds, the hole makes me feel like I am a visitor to a realm of titans. This hole makes me feel as though I am slowly drifiting through ancient and forgotten ruins, wind bellowing through their empty halls like a de Chirico painting, places that have been empty since before the temple of human cognition had been crafted.

The structure of this twilight hole is expansive, mountainous, stoic and still, even as forms matter-of-factly and placidly replicate and recur upon themselves like hopper crystals. There was always a sense of things coming together, building heavier, ever heavier. My perceptions of physical self also did not feature much distortion or alteration, I was always a still body in the gentlest breeze, at times cocooned, entombed or locked into armor or sarcophagi or mysterious pods, most motion was me simply being still and being manipulated by other perceived physical forces. Other dissociatives holes I could feel like my physical self was being twisted, bent, folded, expanded and contracted in impossible ways, but beyond a persistent floppy sinking feeling, this was not the case here. The nature of the hole was neutral, and I suspect highly sensitive to set and setting.

 

T1: 15 – I transition out of the hole as my physical body becomes more difficult to ignore. It does not take much effort to sit back upright and operate a computer again. I still feel very heavy, I still feel very dazed. Every function of my body and mind feels like I am in slow motion. I often just space out for a few seconds at a time, not really thinking about anything, just perceiving the state I am in. The room is dark. There are visuals drifting down the surfaces and indistinct dark spaces all around me, cascades of regular arrays of dots, shifting and morphing a little. Everything is gently flashing. As the shock of being in a hole state wears off and my normal cognition begins to quickly reassemble and filter back in, I just go back to reading about things on my laptop. I read about the phenomenon of hypnosis. I feel like I am made of gummy. My limbs feel heavy and buzzing and moving them is labored. But I am content to move as minimally as possible.

 

T1:30- Everything feels so slow. I am surprised to realize only an hour and a half has passed. The time dilation, particularly in the hole space, is remarkable. The intensity has leveled off at this point, I am sitting there in a focused daze like a monsoonal downpour of doom metal riffs is crashing down on me. I am not stupefied, incapacitated, or blankly staring off into space, but the presence of the drug is still overwhelmingly undeniable.

 

T2:00- I still feel the same as before. The comedown seems steady and gradual. There’s no mania, but still a focused drive to read things and engage in tasks. There is still a bit of slowness in my thoughts and reactions, like each neural impulse has to fight through slush to reach the next synapse, but the pieces to be a functional mind are all still there. It is a focus but it is a soft focus, still blurred, still not at full capacity. MXPr in its comedown left me confused and frozen in place, unable to really think or do anything and leaving me no desire to engage with anything. This is quite different from that. It’s a perfect state to competently engage with a mostly mindless videogame, in this case, I dust off my N64 cartridge of Pokemon snap and try to max out my scores. I become engrossed with finding an online leaderboard for this ancient game and find a quiet joy in seeing all these people from around the world still dedicating themselves to being the very best they can be for the sake a game hardly anyone plays anymore for only the most niche recognition. I find my mind, in its exposed softness, has taken itself to that sort of saccharine sentimentality, there are a lot of little beautiful things in the dark and quiet places in the world late at night, on pages of website with hardly any traffic, or perhaps a drug is just making me feel something profound about the dick-measuring contest of hyper-competitive gaming for dubious achievements that will forever be shrouded in total obscurity. But perhaps I am doing the same with drugs.

 

T3:00- I definitely feel further down. Cognitively I am close to being back to baseline, though I still feel suggestible and malleable- things like immediately believing obvious misinformation before scrutinizing it, fixation on certain thoughts or beliefs, I feel as though the right person could convince me to believe or do anything right now if they communicated it in the right way. Most of the remaining sensations are in my body- now just as numbness and heaviness. There is perhaps a bit of lingering stimulation in my mind, not true “stimulation” as in anything I can overtly feel, just that I would probably have a hard time falling asleep if I were to lay down right now.

 

T4:00- Almost entirely down. Just the last lingering vestiges of that aforementioned numbness and heaviness in my body.

 

T5:00- Fully back to baseline. Go to sleep (With my prescribed 50 mg of Trazodone).

Conclusion: I think this drug is excellent as a heavier dissociative for casual use- I think many users will even find it preferable to ketamine- not just because of its higher potency, but because of the slightly more engaging and lucid headspace too, at points quite euphoric and focused and sentimental without becoming too confusing or disorienting. The higher potency of course does mean that it may lend itself less to casual use as one can not eye out doses like they do with ketamine, but I find this one to be pretty forgiving at high doses, owing to its that somewhay lucid headspace. The heaviness is mostly in the body and even at a very large dose it wasn’t particularly disorienting, though it could be physically incapacitating. It has a very rapid onset with sudden upwellings of euphoria, a short peak duration and a longer, pleasant, functional comedown that is overall quite agreeable. The hole space is dim and indistinct but still interesting and quite malleable to whatever sensory inputs one lends themselves to. I believe holing on this drug with the appropriate music could provide for some phenomenal experiences, but on the flipside, it may prove very sensitive to set and setting and in the wrong place at the wrong time could be an unpleasant experience. It doesn’t have quite the same level of esoteric thought and deep-diving insight as DCK might have- in fact if I had to describe it based on comparison I would say the most accurate description is a slightly more stimulating DCK with a slightly shallower and more casual headspace- a headspace that I find projects itself outwardly onto the user’s inputs and surroundings as opposed to the inwardly gazing world of DCK. A great way to finish off a dark night. As I stated in the intro, I did notice some urinary effects in the time after taking it, though I don’t know whether this is just due to my own sensitivities or could have even just been coincidence with timing. I urge other experimenters to be vigilant for such effects and report if they notice similar. Overall though, I think this is an excellent, easy, euphoric, malleable, and forgiving compound that will certainly find its fans.

PCiPr ++ 3-F-PCiPr + Nitrous Oxide + Hydromorphone

Here is just a brief and dirty reportback on an experience I had fairly recently on a cocktail of novel dissociatives and a single 8 mg hydromorphone pill in addition to generous amounts of cannabis. This is not as detailed or useful as any of my normal reports, but it was such a jarring experience (that happened right around Halloween time too) that it felt worth writing. Figured I could share a scary story about drugs that actually happened.

It is noteworthy that 2 of these compounds are completely novel dissociatives that have not been reported yet. I am working on reports on each of them singularly, I hope to have them out sometime in the coming weeks. If i had to summarize them, I would say 3-F-PCiPr doses around 30-70 mg, has a fairly short duration, and is soft, smooth, at times tranquil and other times quite uncomfortable and disorienting. PCiPr doses around 10-30 mg, has a very long duration, and is subtle at first, then very intense and all consuming, stimulating and manic and very functional but also quite heavy. Like a more lucid 3-HO-PCP. [Reports for PCiPr and 3-F-PCiPr are now complete!] I had encountered no indication that either of these compounds had any CNS depressant activity; both elevated heart rate and didn't cause any perceivably respiratory depression (measured with a pulse oximeter), Appreciable respiraratory depression hasn't really been observed in in the non-2'-oxo substituted arylcycholexylamines (though some can be weak partial agonists of the mu-opioid receptor). Nevertheless, I determined for myself that I was comfortable with the risk, I would never recommend to anyone else that they combine novel drugs with opioids.

There are no timestamps here because I wasn't really taking notes as I had not planned on reporting on this. I had taken 20 mg of PCiPr intranasally earlier in the night, followed by 50 mg 3-F-PCiPr intranasally several hours later. I was just riding the high of a very nice first date I had had with somebody where I had cooked them dinner and hung out at my house. A short time after that, I crushed up a single 8 mg Hydromorphone pill and snorted it. I was smoking cannabis and hitting a nitrous tank throughout the rest of the evening, which was mostly spent chatting with friends and playing Dynasty Warriors 3 on the PS2. I felt floaty and warm, I was dizzy and lightheaded and spacey like I was being baked in warm static. Everything was faded and muffled in the most pleasant intoxicating way, like the empty spaces of my skull were stuffed with plush filling. There was an underlying mania and a stupefying dissociation. A warm opioid nod left me drowsy and slack jawed, gently waving back and forth in the glow of my CRT TV. I felt like seaweed being tossed about in gentle waves in a shallow sandy tropical sea, waves that swelled and rolled through my body as a warm, itchy euphoria. Everything was pleasantly bleak, everything was heavy in the silent late night twilight.

I eventually topped off with 10 more mg of PCiPr and 20 more mg of 3F-PCiPr. I was done playing video games for now, I was absentmindedly sitting in the dark browsing the internet. Every thought was a struggle, every action felt impaired and restrained in every way. I was moving and thinking in slow motion, every little task taking twice as long as it should have. The obliterating stupor of opioid bliss.

I was getting ready to go to bed (This was about now 4 hours since I had taken the initial dose of 3-F-PCiPr). I decided to smoke more. I am not sure why I made this decision- sometimes I will smoke a bit before bed to unwind, but with dissociatives still in my system, why would i think this would do anything but stir the dust again and bring them to the forefront, not conducive to sleep at all? And I didn't just smoke a little, I smoked a lot. Incidentally, this is exactly what happened. My heart was pounding, I was soon in the throes of a dissociative panic. Everything came rushing to the forefront, it was distressing and overwhelming. The world began to unravel around me. All I could hear was my heart pounding in my head. I became profoundly confused- how did I get here? Where was I? Where was my body? Why did I feel this way? Who was I? Darkness had consumed everything, I could not perceive anything around me anymore. My surroundings had fallen away to an abyss. It was as if I was suddenly an isolated consciousness caught immediately in the present, no point of reference for what came before, how i felt before, no sense of how I ought to feel in the future, just suddenly being deposited into a disorienting and confusing existence, borne from intense unfamiliar and bizarre sensations, borne from an unknowable void where sensations existed no longer. I was a very small mind, very suddenly all alone in a very large and imposing place.

And in this vulnerable, lost, confused place- I was prey. Something stalked the reaches of this dissociative abyss, something indescribable, without physical or sensory form, only perceptible as concentrated malicious intent. I could not feel my body but I could sense by blood run cold in its shadow. I was no longer protected by my grounding in our reality, I was at the mercy of something that showed me that I was past where my mind could feel intact. It pulled me away from our world as bits and pieces of myself began to come back- I was now cognizant of what I was, and what was being lost as my previous existence had began to decay into illusion-it was this sense that I had broken out, that i had hacked my way out of our reality into this alternate one, where I was lost and afraid and vulnerable. That the existence I had known was an illusion to insulate me from the horrors of this world where entities preyed on stray consciousnesses and spirited them away to parts unknown. And so it was that my entire life, that every entire life, all life times, all humanity, was withered away to nothing, inconsequential and forgettable in the scope of this new void, greater than anything I could perceive, both endless and final, all-consuming, dominant, and utterly inescapable. Where darkness ate at the borders of my perception and shadows stalked through whatever could be perceived as apart of the inky void. It was cold, impersonal, and unfeeling as anything could be- even the emptiest plane and bleakest space on our world is still a physical realm, I still have the company of the sky and the earth- here is nothing, the bitter loneliness of knowing that not only is nothing here, nothing could possibly be here, nothing has ever been here, nothing will ever be here, nothing but my tormentor who has placed me here, who is so vast and powerful that I am borne the terrible loneliness of its indifference, that I am so powerless to be imperceptible to it. How can I beg for mercy from something that only perceived me for an instant to lock me in its limbo, to whom I am a speck of dust lost among a million specks of dust in a million empty spaces? It was the dread of being abandoned, forgotten, truly deeply dissociated from everything I had ever known and will know, and from all that had ever known and will know me. It was the greatest sense that escape was impossible that I have ever known.

All of my life, all of my memories, everything I was, everything I had known, was fading away into a distant memory. My fate was to be here, still, cold, perceiving only dimness for an eternity that had already begun to pass. The light of existence and experience was being weighed against an ever-extending final ultimate void that only grew to dwarf it, averaging out to an increasingly grey and stagnant life. This was it, this was all it would ever be.

Then snap, it was over. It was as though this tormentor had noticed me, had decided I was to be freed. All of a sudden, I just came to in my room, like nothing had happened at all. A moment of mercy. I had not just come out of it, I had snapped completely back into reality, I was fully lucid and sober. I had only seen how much time had passed- less than an hour- but it had felt like an eternity. I was so confused and disoriented. How did it just stop like that? I laughed out of sheer relief that it was over. I sat with a terrible nausea that only developed more as night turned into morning, culminating in me repeatedly vomiting and barely being able to keep water down for much of the day. Some terrible psychosomatic reaction maybe, or some adverse reaction to the opioid as I don't use them often. I really thought I had finally broken reality. I was grateful to be released from this void.

3-F-PCiPr

Age: 29

Weight: 140 lbs

Dosage: 70 mg intransal

Setting: At home. Very cold winter night.

 

[Note: Because I have built up a tolerance to dissociatives, this is a higher dose than most should take. To a beginner I would suggest a dose of around 30-50 mg.]

 

Halogenated Arylcyclohexylamines are a wellspring of untapped potential in drug development. We currently have 3-F-PCP and 3-Cl-PCP, two fascinating and unique compounds with interesting properties that set them apart from the standard alkane/alkoxy/hydroxy substituted compounds. With such a small sample size of 3 compounds it’s hard for me to say broadly how they differ from the others, but there is something commonly distinct about them that is difficult to pin down. Perhaps it’s a lack of the same manic rush and a more smooth and grounded experience? Hard to say. Halogenated compounds of course also exist in the realm of 2’-oxo substituted Arylcyclohexylamines, famously in Ketamine, or 2F-DCK, or 2-FXE, but those yield their own unique discrete categorical experience. When I say halogenated ACH’s I’m not talking about those ones. The halogenated ACH’s are fairly unpredictable in their subjective effects- all we can discern is they are relatively impotent, most dosing in the range of 50+ mg. The duration can vary between compounds, though I hypothesize that bulkier halogens have a longer duration (along with being less potent, as seen between 3-F-PCP and 3-Cl-PCP). The fineries of their subjective effects are bizarre, as I said before they stand apart from other arylcyclohexylamines but in an obscure and esoteric way that manages to permeate the entire experience. Each one is unique and unpredictable. While we can gauge rough estimates of potency from their affinities, the phenomenology of each compound is truly a great unknown. Unexpected nootropic effects? Empathogenic and anxiolytic effects from 3-Cl-Substitutions? What peripheral activity is going on? It’s a mystery and perhaps a Pandora’s box to crack open. One of the last truly wild frontiers of what we can experience. Halogenated arylcyclohexylamnies should be the future.

But I digress.

This compound is so precious. It has a unique heaviness and motion that feels unlike any other dissociative. The headspace is at first wild and jumbled, but then clear and focused, there are waves of euphoric comfort, mania feels natural, not driven or overclocked. I have taken it up to 100 mg; it is extremely intense at that level, a complete reality-shattering-time-scrambling experience; Its depths are immense. I initially sampled it sublingually; I found it too had the phenomenon of 3-Cl-PCP where it makes sour flavors taste sweet. It Is significantly less potent sublingually but with a longer duration. I do not know how it behaves orally. I would rate it on the heavier side of compounds in general, finding more kinship in ketamine than PCP. But it is quite unlike either of those. There feel like acute nootropic properties to this compound. It might do miraculous things while microdosed, but sadly the test batch I was blessed with was very small. It is something that should be investigated further.

 

T0:00- Dose taken intranasally while listening to Doom metal. It doesn’t sting much, it smells like wet dirt. A sting starts to set in after a few minutes however.

 

T0:15- My fingertips start to feel numb. I am watching Youtube videos on grim subjects.

 

T0:18- Feeling a rush to my head now, I feel like I am turning to soft foam.

 

T0:20- It's a distinctive rush I don't feel from many other dissociatives- it radiates from the sinuses and hits right behind the eyes, it's cool, tight, expanding outwards with gentle pressure, it feels like flowing sugar, sparkly and wispy. The rest of my body begins to feel wobbly and dizzy

 

T0:30- I am having a hard time understanding things. It is challenging to engage in short term memories and tie them into the current stream of information, like there is an interruption in that internal communication. It is a state of existing purely in the present, mindfulness, but with severed connection to future or past. Just battered with the windowpanes of the present, one after another, smashed against my face, frame by frame, I am enjoying this thrilling ride. I can exist as this creature with no past or future, I can be a glass salamander and wriggle into the wet leaves and geosmin odor still lingering in my pulsing thrashing slightly stinging sinuses.

 

T0:40- Everything feels tight. Dissociatives exert pressure in many ways. There is soft inflating pressure. There is sandy riverine pressure. This is a tight and tense pressure, pressure exerted from forces pulling taut from far away, distances unknown into the abyss. It is like being wrapped in silk and having it be pulled tight from both ends. Everything feels heavy, gravity is apparent, it feels like everything around me is underlined with a sinking force.

Visuals present, with open eyes there are ripples of static and waves and pulses, all with a systematic pixelated character. The colors are on the duller and darker end of the spectrum-rusts and dark teals.

There isn’t a driving, riven mania, but there is a sneaky mania that is hard to discern until its too late, a snake lying in wait. It feels natural though, permissible, not forceful and gouged in like 3-MeO-substituted compounds. Perhaps in retrospect I performed manic activities but in the thick of it I wouldn’t say I felt any specific mania. It feels a heavy blankness, but a profound one, that grants a comforting and smooth euphoria; it is alright to not know the world’s mysteries.

Everything is flashing and buzzing. I smoke a bit of cannabis now as it sets in heavier and heavier. Pixelated stars and sparkles stream down the screen of my computer. My body is smooth and numb, there is a waviness like being on a boat, I feel a tad nauseous, which is quite rare for dissociatives for me.

 

T0:50- There is a heavy fizzy buzz dancing across my skin. Like rain pattering down on me from every angle to match the forms of my body, each drip dense in numb static. I am getting little neon afterimages of things, as strobing tracers, turquoise and icy blue. I lie still and my body sinks and dissolves. It is all pixelated- everything is assumed at first into lower resolutions, I feel like my body is being deconstructed into a voxel form like Minecraft blocks, continually resolving to smaller blocks increasing the resolution in resounding waves; my sense of body ultimately dissolves into a stepped geometric form reminiscent of a Fresnel lens of a lighthouse light. But oddly enough I am still aware of my body, I can still snap out of this if I want. This immersive pseudo-hole doesn’t bear the fiery manic motion of other compounds, I am distorted and still, there is no twisting, turning tilting, I am just stone still in my glass sarcophagus; rather I am the glass sarcophagus, that impossibly has the texture of stiff Styrofoam. I am a buzzing statue. It feels fucking great. And I can just leave whenever I want. Everything in such beautiful efficient order. The perfections of proportion and composition highlighted ad nauseam wherever I looked. I am quite very couchlocked.

The previous confusion has given way to a crystal-clear lucidity. My mind is stimulated and running, almost psychedelic, effortlessly stringing together associations and memories like a well-practiced military drill. I am couchlocked in the sense that I am collapsing into a pit of voxels wherever I sit, but with my vitreous clear lucid mind I can just will myself up, snap out of it. A very controllable compound. I get up and walk around just to see that I can. I am a little uncoordinated and clumsy but not to a destructive degree.

The whole time I feel like I am at the precipice the threshold of something extreme, that I will soon plunge into its infinite depths and that I will be gradually lowered into ever deeper realms of this compound’s deep infinite vortex. It’s cool to know it’s there, but I have no particular drive to go deeper. I have taken higher doses of this compound before and I know just how deep the rabbit hole can go, it is exhilarating to watch it present itself, like it is truly another realm. My mind feels polished and smooth. It feels like everything is happening more efficiently.

 

T1:00- I’m functional, I’m smooth and heavy, I can sink in and out at will, I feel so powerful. I am reading about the history of the Mongols (again; I always like to learn more about them when I’m dissed). I love taking in information. I love imagining from the information I am taking in. I feel imaginative immersion as though I was a child. It is a golden delight. I feel like the world around me is sinking into my skull. This is a very egoistic experience. Solipsistic even. Striated gravity wells in deep forest green and maroon pour into me from every direction. It is so soft and pleasant. I am texting friends and being sociable. I am articulate and rational in my writing. As I perceive it I am not flinging manic excesses or triumphs, just elated conversation, just a subtle mania creeping through my veins, keeping me reasonable, rational. It feels restrained and I appreciate that.

 

T1:15- There is so much weight to this. It is so easy to get stuck in one place, physically. My limbs all feel so heavy and it is tiresome to lift them. It’s so so heavy, but I still find it is hard to really truly sink into a total hole. There is always still a bit of my body, there is always still knowing that I can just summon total control again. Higher doses were quite overwhelming but I really still could stand up out of that. I am meant to still function.

I am thinking about chemistry again, I haven’t done chemistry for almost a year now but it’s all coming back to me, vivid memories. I can just pick through them like a video rental. I can think and talk about chemistry coherently too, converse about it with people. I was never quite good at chemistry and never quite grasped the fundamentals, but even what I understand can be processed crystal clear through my mind.

I sense that the enforced segregated perception of only the present has expanded to me committing my short term memories to discrete blocks. Everything about this is blocky. The visuals are pixels. The tactile sensations are voxels. And now my perceptions of time and memory are being neatly packed into neon crates and set in order.

I don’t feel any strong compulsion to do anything. I am just listening to music. I feel like I am burning and sizzling with numb dissociative energy and that warmth is being sheared by a cold sharp razor wind off a frozen lake. I am content to just be couchlocked and take in information from all various media and news sources. Exhilarating. The experience is bright and sharp at the edges, and heavy and concentric at my core.  

 

T1:20- I feel it is starting to smooth out a bit. I am lucid but also very dissociated. It feels like a dissociation around the edges- I can maintain focus and composure, I am a raft in a sea of dissociation, the sun is beating down on me, the weather is beautiful. I can get up and do anything passably at this point. But I can feel the dissociation in every vein of my body. There are rushes through it too, there are moments where I feel like I need to catch mt breath. I feel a little sweaty.

 

T1:30- I lie and close my eyes again but there is no particularly forceful imagery. Dulled blues and ruddy oranges. Stepped and pixelated patterns as expected. I have to urinate frequently. I have no issue getting up and going upstairs. This is very pleasant. It makes talking to people on my phone very pleasant. I feel like I can have a good conversational flow and rapport.

T2:00- It is already a smooth comedown. All of the previously stated effects recede in equal measure, as a gentle gradient. Very merciful. I still feel so tight and dissed, I am so off base but I also feel normal? I am talking to a lot of people online. I find myself stilled. I don't really want to play video games. I don't really want to do anything. I like just existing here listening to music.

 

T2:30- I try to play Simpsons Hit and Run for a bit but decide I’m not in the mood for silly videogames. It just didn’t resonate with me, it did not feel like a worthwhile use of my time. There is a steady downturn, I feel a bit heavy and buzzy and warm.

 

T3:00- Spouse comes home, Mostly down now, just a little lingering daze. Eat dinner, not a ton of appetite. But I can do it.

 

T4:00- I do dishes, I feed my numerous predatory arachnids. My coordination feels normal at this point, my mind feels sharp and focused, making the tasks feel easier. There is no lasting stimulation at this point. I Just feel a bit numb in my body still.

 

T5:00- I feel mostly down. There’s a lingering tightness in my head and numbness in my extremities. I smoke a lot of cannabis. This actually brings the experience back up, but only the cognitive aspect- the physical dissociation is long gone. I begin reading online and poring through the sphere of the modern psychedelic-tech-intelligentsia and rationalist milieu and feel a burning inadequacy at how little I engage with philosophy, non-drug neuroscience, neuropsychology and pharmacology, I grapple with not being cut out for those intellectual spheres, I am a drug addict that only engages with the information immediate to my primary mission of finding new ways to embellish my life with pleasure; I design or suggest compounds not for lofty goals of improvement of the human lot but for my own personal quest to get high and enhance my life. It’s puerile and narcissistic, but it makes me happy. It’s a lot to suddenly grapple with, it feels like I have wasted such a good portion of my brain’s greatest youthful plasticity, that I chose the path of base pleasure over all else. Shameful. But curiously instead of a depressive spiral as per my tendency, I feel a compulsion to try and engage with the greater deeper analysis of the world more, to enrich my mind and grant it food for greater potentialities. I do something rare for my screen addled attention span and sit down and read a book in my own house, this time Andrew Gallimore’s fascinating “Reality Switch Technologies” which I have been meaning to read for months; and this is something I have observed with previous experiments with this compound, a compulsion to engage in things that will be meaningful, profound, enriching, that will help shape and codify and challenge my beliefs and values. Consumption of any written work feels like a means to this end, at least moreso than endlessly scrolling social media. It is a euphoric and hedonistic drug for sure, but in this phase of the experience I genuinely felt a drive to improve my mind and the ways in which I perceive and engage in the world, and this felt like something of great value. I fear my capacity for more intellectual and abstract thought has atrophied from years of base hedonistic abuse of my brain, but this compound gives me hope that perhaps I can recover some of the energy and drive that had motivated me before and perhaps could motivate me in the future. My thoughts feel cold and rational, perhaps this is just an illusion if intellectualism anchored to rationality but I could genuinely say that my cognitive abilities felt above baseline functionality.

 

T6:00 – The dust kicked up by the cannabis was a brief phenomenon, as it wears off the experience recedes to total baseline. At this point I don’t feel any specific effects. I am tired.

 

Conclusion: This is another very unique compound that contributes to a growing hypothesis of there being vast unknown frontiers in the world of halogenated arylcyclohexylamines. Lucid, comfortable, highly euphoric, insightful, and immensely profound. Perhaps what I find most fascinating about this one are the cognitive enhancing properties- they are not necessarily automatic or effortless, they must be specifically addressed to manifest, and they manifest strongest in the latter half of the experience, though I suspect that lower doses carry this property too without the initial muddling dissociative confusion. I think this could be a powerful therapeutic tool and a means for personal development if used properly and responsibly. It also has great recreational value, although I would argue less so than some existing arylcyclohexylamines, by virtue of that initial confusion and by making certain activities perhaps less palatable if they are not fulfilling enough. But alas, I am a sample size of one, perhaps these effects do not extend to others or were just a repeated factor of my set and setting. The only thing that can elucidate this is further study and broader sampling! I think this compound is a delight, it is not particularly potent but still within a good range for efficiency in production, it has a fairly short duration, and even if I am perhaps speaking too highly of it, it is still something valuable and delightful that bodes well for the development of other halogenated arylcyclohexylamines.