2C-C (Intranasal)

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 30 mg Intranasal

Setting: My friend's house

I had arrived at the house of one of my dearest friends in the early afternoon. He was trying acid for the first time, along with several of his roommates and close friends, who all had varying levels of experience with psychedelics. They had all dosed about two hours before I got there so I decided to give myself an experience I could dive right into, where I could be at my peak synchronized with them. I opted for a 2C-x compound, dosed intranasally.

T0:00- I snorted a big pile of chalky powder. As expected, it was instantly extremely unpleasant. Searing pain fired its way up my nose like a blowtorch, blistering everything it touched and crackling into my nerves. I coughed and sputtered as it stung my sinuses like being whipped with nettles, the jolts of pain fearsome and uncompromising. My eyes winced shut and tears ran uncontrollably from them. I couldn't talk, all I could do was cringe and shudder. The sheer volume of powder made this substantially more unpleasant than my experience with snorting other 2C-x compounds. 

T0:05- The drip begins to run down my throat, burning the whole way down. I shudder as it runs its course, horrid bitter chills that rattle my spine. I am shaking as the experience begins to take grip with its wrenching polychrome fingers. They tear into me, eviscerate my mind and body, a swift and messy medieval surgery to insert a sizzling psychedelic experience into my nervous system as quickly as possible. Nervous energy shoots into my extremities a bit too quickly for comfort- definitely none of the gentle gradual immersion of dosing orally. 

T0:10- The nausea overwhelms me as the bitter chemical seeps deeper into my body. My body hotly rejects this poison, and I have to quickly run upstairs to throw up in the bathroom. I instantly feel better, a rare occurrence for me as typically the sickness from psychedelics sticks around for the duration of my experiences. I start to pick up on visuals as I purge my sickness, lights and flashes of color at the edges of my vision, pulsing and creeping inwards with each nervous throb of my heart. I return downstairs, feeling invigorated and replenished, though there is still a measure of physical pain and discomfort in my nose, my abdomen, and my muscles. This seems to be a bit of concern for my company but I reassure them that I'm feeling much better now and that I know what I'm doing probably. 

T0:12- The more positive aspects of the experience begin to pick up now. Tossed into the pool with the swirling discomfort is a rushing euphoria as the world begins to seethe with light and saturation around me. Concentric patterns, radiating patterns, floral patterns, all interlocking and traced around each other begin to manifest on every surface, waves of green and deep ruddy purple pulsing through them. These visuals feature no pareidolia or figures or forms- they are purely geoemtric and abstract, divorced from any organic form or behavior.

T0:20- The euphoria washes over into hypomania. I am talking a lot, I feel hotly stimulated and my body and mind are rushing through the aether like a meteorite in the atmosphere, blistering with friction. I am infodumping about drugs to people I pray are interested and aren't just humoring me. I am shaking a lot and can't really sit still or find a comfortable position. I am extremely restless, and the experience so far shows no sign of leveling off. I chew some gum to mitigate the clenching in my jaw. There is still substantial lingering pain in my nose and throat. The visuals begin to conform to straight lines, and intersections in my vision pulsing and propagating from those points like an antenna emitting waves of electromagnetic radiation. They adhere to the corners of my field of view, sending out ripples across the center, and propagate from the junctions of hallucinated lines and structures like some great subconscious architecture mechanically and mathematically generating itself on every blank surface. 

T0:37- The patterns are blooming and blossoming on everything in a more freeform manner now, reminiscent of life-forms like scallop shells and palmetto fronds alongside great concentric diamonds, striped with rainbows and dark bands pulsing with prismatic auras. Though they resemble the organic, they are entirely artificial in their feeling, mechanical, impersonal, dead and unreal. They are still entirely strikingly beautiful and rippling with an entirely different kind of energy than that contained by the living. It is a primal, universal, esoteric and cosmic energy, one that exists and propagates on the virtue of its own mathematical physical properties. The overall energy in the room takes on a varegiated landscape as everyone's individual experiences manifest deeper, ranging from the whimsy of exploration and novelty, to returning to a jovial and familiar comfort, to anxious detachment and incoherency and the panic of thought loops. My personal experience is rushing, fiery, electric, I try to take notes but end up feeling no desire but to scribble incoherently in my notebook, to at least vent some of this pent up energy. I smoke a bit of weed to alleviate some of the physical effects and round the experience off a bit. 

T0:50- A whole host of new people enters the room, drastically shifting the dynamic. Frankly I don't know any of them too well and none of them are on psychedelics, so I retreat to a couch out of the way so I can just draw pictures and quietly observe. Everyone else in the house greets them warmly, and the space is soon whirring with the sharing of affections and pleasantries at one another's company. What was a patchwork of introspective shared experience has now broadened into wider interactions, and though it is nice to witness, it is disorienting and I am content to exist in my niche hiding amongst the crevasses of all the activity. The arrival of some of these people seems to bring a measure of great relief to the person having a challenging and anxious experience, a relief for those who were concerned about them. I try to explore my own experience, noting that there aren't too many closed eye visuals and that they seem to fueled by the fire of my sensory experience. I smoke some more weed and that certainly kicks up the open eyed visuals. 

T1:00- Still peaking the same, nothing new to note, the visuals predominantly take the form of palmettos conforming to a straight and exact framework of diamonds shapes and to the literal boundaries of my vision. The room is fairly dark as the sun begins sinking, allowing for a detailed interplay of these forms in the dimness, allowing them to take on swirling and vibrant colors. Almost no auditory effects to note except a slight flanging and reverberation of sound, making everything sound ever so slightly deeper- not deeper in pitch but more voluminous. 

T1:20- I note that there is still a residual burn in my face, but it is a mere annoyance and is entirely tolerable. Such is the price of being plunged into such an experience so quickly. Concentric auras adorn everything, everything is flashing and pulsing with light. I am content where this experience has leveled off. A lot of the initial stimulation and mania and rushing euphoria has softened and the trip has turned down to a pleasant smolder and sizzle. 

T2:28- Several people embark on a sort of psychedelic second wind, redosing themselves. Another person takes an initial dose at this time. The energy in the room has settled down to people interacting more intimately one on one, falling into their respective social niches and rapports. I smoke a great deal more cannabis to stir the dust on my experience and kick it back up, so I too can taste some psychedelic rejuvenation. Things already feel on the downturn for me. Smoking more definitely achieves the goal of kicking up the experience, breathing a new life and vividness into the experience, tangible fresh pulses through the visuals and headspace. 

T3:20- The physical stimulation has mostly given way to a burnt exhaustion now- not the sort of exhaustion from long tiring exertion and endurance, but a hotter and more acute exhaustion of nerves and muscles frazzled from so much energy firing through them. I spoke with the person who was having the difficult experience and they had mostly recovered. It was nice to help them navigate and articulate their experience in fresh retrospect, to feel competent and helpful in the development of someone else's psychedelic repertoire. It was ultimately a valuable and useful experience despite the distinct terror and confusion, as it often is, and no lasting negative consequences were immediately observed as being incurred. 

T4:30- Things wind down more and I smoke more to try and wring more color and energy out of the experience. It seems as though it is receding as rapidly as it came on however, as I am left mostly with just feeling stoned, with a bit of extra energy and color. 

T5:30- I wind down the rest of the night with more weed and gentle intimate social interaction with many people. I honestly am very close with only one person here who I have known for a very long time, though everyone else is still extremely friendly and welcoming and receptive to close interaction. I grow closer to everyone it feels, while at the same time I can enjoy witnessing how several people who know each other intimately interact and express their friendship and affection and camaraderie with one another. I am in the gentle pleasant afterglow of the experience, where it feels like my mind is running faster than usual- it is an enhanced and warm and euphoric functionality, where I have passed any boundary of being impaired. Every aspect of myself feels enhanced, including the glowing vibrancy of colors around me, a pulsing seething heated saturation of my visual field.

T7:00- People are at all sorts of different levels of experience and the energy in the room is diverse, swirling with activity and a patchwork of different perceptions from people in a variety of head spaces. I personally am mostly back to baseline, my trip replaced for the most part with simply being stoned. 

T9:00- I set out for home. The subway ride is faded and exhilarating, though the visuals have mostly passed by this point. Riding the subway late at night while visuals play off of every surface has always been a favorite experience of mine, though it seems things have subsided by now. I get home and fall asleep without issue after about 4 hours of goofing off.

Conclusion: 2C-C dosed intranasally has a similar effect profile to other intranasally dosed 2C-x compounds- namely greater potency, faster comeup, shorter duration, and extreme pain upon dosing. 2C-C however was particularly unpleasant to consume. It had roughly the same degree of pain as 2C-B, but it was markedly more unpleasant due to the greater quantity of powder being consumed. The pain also lingered a great deal longer than it did with other 2C-x compounds. The nature of the experience itself resembled other explorations with 2C-C- it was marked with a certain latent energy, like heat rising off of hot asphalt. It rippled with fire and electricity like a transformer explosion, and was adorned with bright pulsing and flashing visuals, architectural and structural and artificial, with a focus on radial and concentric forms conforming to straight, careful frameworks. The headspace was euphoric, with a manic stimulant rush, probably owing to the intensity of the route of administration.

3-MeO-PCP + Cocaine ++ 3-MeO-PCE + 4-AcO-DPT

Dosages: 

T0:00 10 mg 3-MeO-PCP oral, 3 bumps of cocaine, intranasal
T~7:00 20 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal 
T~9:00 20 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal 
T~12:00 5 mg 3-MeO-PCP intranasal, 10 mg 3-MeO-PCE intranasal, 10 mg 4-AcO-DPT intranasal

What a waste of time- a week spent being a degenerate in the dead of winter, every dark day colored by a languid hedonistic blur of dissociatives and benzodiazepines. I went through the motions of seeing friends, sustaining my relationships, running the occasional errand, rarely feeding myself- the moments of clarity stained by an obsessive occupation with getting altered, a body on autopilot, a vehicle for consuming more drugs. Self-deprecation and self-loathing become a sinking cycle and seemingly the only logically viable lens for introspection.

3-HO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCP, 2F-DCK, and a steady stream of etizolam were entertaining glimmers in an otherwise idle and useless being. Fueled by chemicals, I had resigned myself to my dependency and rendered myself impotent with my fixation on getting high. It was an exponential skyrocket on a perpetually creeping trend of poor coping skills that had become entrenched years ago. Potential futures with no access to drugs became a looming existential nightmare.

Truly, what was I gaining from it anymore? Drugs no longer felt exploratory, novel, or useful anymore. My lifeblood was hedonism, just enough to sustain any will to keep drifting through time. I was teetering on a precipice, over nothing, or some terribly dull something. I was awake until 6 or 7 in the morning most days. It was usually dark already by the time I woke up again, A self-inflicted polar winter.

On this particular January day, I again, woke up late in the afternoon. My roommate had a small birthday party planned later that night. Until then I decided to make myself somewhat useful and run a few errands in the neighborhood. A few bumps of cocaine gave me the jolt I needed to fold laundry. A capsule of 10 mg of 3-MeO-PCP was taken before setting out to get some things from a nearby drugstore, timed perfectly to creep up on me right as I was getting home. At least I was fairly competent at this. I was stimulated, buzzing and decidedly in motion, with little in the way of expectations or plans for the rest of the night. Just existing in the present, with a perpetually worsening stray idleness. The air outside was swirling with cold.

The day and night wore on, as the drugs wore off, and I felt entirely sapped of energy. I intended to hang out with my roommate’s friends for a bit but now felt 0 desire to socialize or talk to anyone. My partner asked to hang out and I coldly rejected them and stated I would prefer to be alone, to just hide away in my room and be on drugs. What pleasure. I eventually got bored of course and went out to interact with people, which led to the discovery that it had begun to snow substantially outside. I have historically always been a proponent of combining drugs and the serendipity of the weather, so I naturally saw this as an opportunity to seize on. The first part of my plan was set into motion, a bump of about 20 mg of 3-MeO-PCE. I socialized awkwardly a little more as my gentle and familiar favorite dissociative crawled up my neurons, a reassuring nostalgia of some time when doing drugs felt at least somewhat healthy and productive. Things wound down around 2 am as the deep night witching hour snow slipped its icy soft hand over the breath of the city outside.

I returned to my room, took my regimen of nausea abatement, and snorted 20 mg of 4-AcO-DPT. Snow continued to fall outside. I planned to catch the sunrise by the riverside in the thick of the storm, a potential glorious wintry chorus at the climax of the night. An anxious nausea crawled up my neurons, my synapses sparking with glittering arcs, a nervous firework display, iridescent discharges crackling at the tips and tendrils of my existence. 3-MeO-PCE has already become established in my lexicon as an aggressive and fiery potentiator of pretty much everything else, and even here in the downturn of my previous dose it clutched the new drug in my system and soared into the sky with it like a vitreous osprey grabbing a sputtering prismatic fish, the water dripping from it catching golden sunlight like a shower of sparks. A newfound energy charged into my extremities, electrifying my muscles. Every movement felt so exact and precise, I was invigorated with what felt like a supernatural control over my motor skills, every movement exactly where it need to be, exactly how it needed to be, every bit of momentum perfectly compensated for. Everything my eyes fell upon was taken by immaculate beauty, multicolored auras and shuddering tracers and afterimages accompanied every movement of my ocular muscles, while every surface that could accommodate it became adorned with an intricate iridescent relief. The shadows of a more beautiful world being cast upon ours.

I danced around in these invigorating and blossoming feelings of confidence and competence as a means of killing a few hours. Every sense I experienced and ability I expressed felt heightened, I felt far superior too my regular self. This was objectively proven wrong by several failed tests of ability, but I chose to ignore that.

I internalized some vague objective of experiencing “awe”, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. Something like God, or some similar idea. When the time came I geared up and bundled up, each garment, each layer, each object on my person carefully selected to optimize maintaining comfort while out in the blustery cold. One final preparation- a glitterbomb of a booster shot, a single line containing 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE and 4-AcO-DPT spiked straight into my face. It landed, and awaited detonation.

The night was dead still and silent when I set out, save for the glimmering cascade swirling around me, glittering flecks of the icy sky decorating and dazzling my coat like a million rhinestones. The streetlights radiated halos around them, catching the sparkling crystalline breath that had overcome the world. There was a lull in the trip at this point, allowing me enough lucidity to navigate the now alien landscape. I was utterly alone, on this snowy night at 5 in the morning. I went to a local park and sheltered in the shadow of a tree as the snow caught the ambient light and reflected it into the sky, a glowing beacon illuminating the constant onslaught of glassy flakes as they drifted to the earth. The eventual destination in mind was a park along the waterfront, where I would be afforded some privacy to look out over the skyline and watch the daybreak in peace.

The radiant brilliance of the sun is muted on stormy days. When clouds weep over the sky, the sun’s rising is not a blazing sword, chasing a clambering night to the far side of the earth. It’s a meek, muted glow, a timid peek over the horizon as it impotently meanders into the sky. As I meandered to my destination it dawned on me that I would not be witness to a glorious sunrise. I wandered into more constructed places that had already begun to angrily flail and throw off their blanket of snow in some delirious dawn night terror. The glistening alabaster that had adorned the more residential parts of the city had been swapped for an onslaught of machines turning the frosting into grey slush, a big cold, wet, dirty mess, skinned with all the soot and ash and gravel and dust and filth of the city and the vehicles that traverse it. No rays of sunlight tearing open the sky from the east- just a choking illumination, a steady glow that perversely hushes the night away, pensive and lazy. The falling snow was grey. The sky was grey. The slush that piled around my feet were all mushy grey.

The bomb exploded. A dark street saturated with  the melted snow and framed by compacted grey asphalt slush. Floodlights glaring down from the grand academic buildings above, walking through scaffolding that was messily adorned with the tortured water from the sky. I am out of my head, I am out of my body, I am shifted slightly above and to the left, how are my legs moving still? Has my gait changed? My body was no longer synchronous, but alas each part seemed to perform its job well enough to keep the whole body moving- well practiced coordination. I had a ways to go until I was safe- there were cars, passerby, glints of eyes as they catch the flashes of madness reflecting off mine. I exuded disorder, disjoint, I was bleeding and disintegrating into a tumbling jumble of pixelated building blocks. Amidst the dense trembling tenements of my nervous system, quaking under the shroud of a cognitive air-raid siren, my heart was thrashing, seething with adrenaline and thrusting its primal visceral panic into my carotid artery. One shot of panic after another right into my brain, turning my grey matter to cold pumice, shuddering my muscles. I did not time this correctly.

Walking walking just keep walking it was all I could do, no matter the oculars coalescing out of the swirling textures at my flanks. I am warm, it is so cold, I sit down on some stairs behind a wall- a brief respite. No one can see me, I can see the sky collapsing above me. I am breathing heavily, I am drenched in the tickling shroud of a looming wraith of dread. There is nowhere to go but onwards.

I trudge and trudge, panic and panic, I meet busy intersections, highway exits, furious metal beasts trying to navigate their snowy landscape, clambering over the snowbanks and ice chunks, groaning and roaring and muttering to themselves as they tear past me, their lights eviscerating me as they go. I am a faceless madman to passerby, an amorphous figure tossed out into the snowstorm like a plastic bag blown loose from the branches of a dead winter tree.

The sun had seeped into the ruminating clouds that oozed over the city, a shy and timid deep blue trying in earnest to hide its face behind a curtain of unrelenting gossamer grey, the grey of wet concrete on a humid overcast day. The daybreak was humble and relegated itself to the background as the sterile cathedrals of the cities skyscrapers glared defiantly into the storm. Keeled against the billows of frost, they stood tall as winters wrath clattered off of their perfect hides, a crystalline monument to a contempt for nature, for not even a deafening salvo of covetous ice could shudder these titans.

I was awestruck- at the lights that framed these buildings and illuminated the march of the crystalline army that drifted around them. At their force, their energy, these crystalline pillars thrusting into the reclining sky.

I had to look closer, I rushed to a pathway over the river that granted a comprehensive view of the skyline. Undetonated ordinance had been perturbed. The second shockwave hit. This was no longer the familiar skyline I gazed upon. New buildings had wedged themselves between the familiar ones, turning the distinct skyline into an impenetrable wall of skyscrapers, all vitreous iridescent green. They flashed, warped, mirrored themselves and followed my field of vision. I was deep in it now. I was awestruck. I wanted to scream about the beauty. I wanted to transmit this image to everyone in the world, these great titans of man being embraced by the iridescent cascade from the sky. A shadow loomed over me however, and I found myself initiating a great oscillation.

 I saw myself from the third person in a rectangular screen. As my thoughts gathered momentum that image replicated itself and trailed off into infinity. Seeing myself, there in that image, left me entirely at a loss for how to navigate existence. Then I felt it-them. My thoughts were travelling, jumping, associating in a particularly aberrant manner, far beyond any natural flow of cognition. I have felt this before, this distinct metallic feeling, the presence. The presence had metal fingers. The presence knew how thoughts would normally flow through my brain. The presence rearranged those pathways with its long metal fingers. Each little touch of its fingertips sparked a fresh wave of panic, coursing through my bloodstream. My thoughts connected and associated in ways I thought inconceivable- perhaps the presence knew how to reconstruct me here but I certainly had not an inkling of its intentions.

 Primeval confusion and panic set in. I had been reprogrammed. In public. Snow was falling. Transportation infrastructure was crippled. The only way home was to walk, through populated neighborhood. The sun was fully up now. My crime was laid bare, the morning joggers who braved the snow had begun to materialize. I was wispy, an unentity, a creature of the night suddenly finding itself trapped in the spotlight of the muted sun. I had no benzos or anything on me that could arrest the experience. I had really truly fucked up. All I could do was laugh, I was completely stranded, tripping too hard to function, with limited options.

 A great deal of mental energy was expended wrangling the writhing metallic serpents trying to flee in all directions from my mind, each of them liable to inflict some form of psychic mischief. The presence got aggressive, it whipped apart my fields of perception, it twisted them and bent them, until I too was bent and twisted out of any state of rational perception. It talked to me, it tried to, it wanted to tell me so much, it wanted me to do things, to create things, to destroy things, to unmake the world and perform obscure tasks, its voice was metal, transmitted not through words but as sinister obscure and impossible ideas directly into my brain, liquid metal filling in the cerebral wrinkles, each neuron it touched exploding into a cascade of visceral panic. I saw my face from five feet away. My form shifted and shuddered and blinked. I did not know where my mind was. I did not know who contained my thoughts and intentions, I did not know who controlled my thoughts or intentions. I focused all of my mental energy, I stood up, I paced, I breathed, I met this before, I could dispel it. The snow raged around me, each flake a malicious metal eye pointed straight at me, the presence drilling its mind into mine, I plunged my face into my hands and closed my eyes and threw myself headlong into a disintegration chamber constructed of shifting and shuddering forms. I opened my eyes again and stood up. Okay for now. The snow felt like a billowing miasma swirling around my back, waiting for the next chance to clutch at me with so many metallic tendrils. I could not stop and think for too long or it would grip me again, smiling its great palladium smile without having a mouth at all.

Terror, Terror. What do I do? No one could come bail me out, no one could drive out here and save me, I couldn’t get law involved oh god fuck no. I truly could only bail myself out of this situation. It was very cold. My frail body was very exhausted. I could not be in public, as I was being stalked by a malevolent force. I had nothing to go on here.

I walked and kept walking, perhaps a change of scenery would keep the panic at bay. And god by god the awe the brilliant light of grace a million lumens into the heavens, soaring into the sky and cascading silky iridescence down upon me the beauty was riveting, all of the colors of the sun piercing straight into my heart, a stark white beam, perfect in every way screaming from my skull into the heavens, enraptured in ecstasy. By all holy, by all sacred, it was awesome, something terrifying, something wonderful, something dizzying in its scope, yet immediately recognizable in its grandeur. It shook me to my core, plunging into my St. Teresa heart, a fiery icy ecstasy the likes of which only the unity of the beauty of divine grace could writhe through my neurons. I wept tears of joy at witnessing such a serendipitous moment in the world, at being here, now, witnessing this, in this ephemeral scene that could only live on in my mind.

Maybe it was the drugs talking. But Maybe it was the scene- The sky was yet to entirely abandon its timid blue. The lonely trail curved along the river, the willow trees and tufts of grass adorned in luscious crystalline draperies, their sullen branches in stark contrast with the smooth, gentle, glistening sugar of the snow upon them. The river was a solemn blue-gray, the color of a depression room when the sun sets but the lights haven’t been turned on all day. Palaces of iron thrust into the luminous sky, great smokestack cathedral spires, embellished by the gentle kisses of the snowflakes that swirled into them. Icicles, vitreous and wind-sculpted, clung to every surface, crystalline friezes making a pilgrimage unto the earth. In the foreground, a technicolor freight train passed into infinity, its rust and weathered paint peaceably entwining its fingers with the frigid air. Everything towered over me, everything sang deep into the sky, a chorus of pillars of light and beauty firing towards the heavens. Steam poured from towers and smokestacks and the tops of buildings, creeping across the skyscape, the city waking up and coming to life and coming into motion under the muted gaze of the icy stratus clouds. 
I paced back and forth through the park for about an hour, oscillating rapidly between absolutely disintegrating terror and ecstatic awe. One checked the other, I felt demented and tilted, whipped into a frenzy of jilted broken energy by the vicious polarity of this experience. The earth around me was so cold yet so radiant, so much energy thrust through its heart, energy that bled out like wind whipping from the plunging throat of a cave, energy that left my mind eviscerated, with me scrambling to pick up and contain the guts that spilled forth, dusted with ice and static electricity. Reality felt virtual, shattered and rendered false. I felt like a character, like a being acting at the discretion of some other, each move of my muscles rendered and carefully placed and predestined by some other entity, and it felt so perfectly okay. An ideal balance of sacrificing my autonomy as I truly traversed and explored the land before me. The sky smoldered with somber light now, and I was fully immersed in a fully illuminated grey morning. The quiet and peace that pervaded the land before the sun had risen was inconceivable now. 
After about an hour of deep, creeping discomfort had passed, I had wrangled my mind enough to feel confident throwing my luck into a quest for home. I carefully orchestrated my re-entry to society and the world, escaping from the park away from the gaze of any pedestrians. I quickly slipped through the streets that had already been cleared of much of the snow. I quietly wove through the flecks of people that had found their way outside, begrudgingly trying to go about their days in these very adverse conditions. My legs and feet were sore, I felt overheated from all of my tight layers, and ultimately so tired and exhausted. I zoned out most of the world around me to focus on the task at hand, trudging onwards on autopilot. I finally arrived at my house without issue. At last, the quest was over. I was home safe, nothing bad had happened. It was okay at last. The pangs and traces of the panic and the scars it left as its barbs coursed through my veins had left my nerves raw. I flopped down on the couch on my porch and took several deep breaths as the relief set in on my shocked psyche. Opalescent steam rose off of my clothing and shrouded me in its gentle coils, tracing my form like soft warm fingers, caressing me in consolation for the successful completion of my journey. I sat immobile for about half an hour, panting, my legs stretched out in front of me. I relished in feeling safe, competent, in overcoming the repeated panic attacks and unwelcome intrusions by unnerving entities on nothing but my own fortitude. I relished in the physical comfort and relaxation, I reveled in the light of day and the little rainbows that adorned the snowbanks that had still coated most things in this part of the city. I reveled in the tracers still following the little blusters of snow that the wind caught and pulled from the trees. I had no reason to move, I felt so warm and good.
It was about 7:30 in the morning. I figured I should just eat and rest up the rest of the day. I dosed myself with about 2 mg of Etizolam to slow the trip down and lull my mind into the same degree of exhaustion my body felt. I showered in the morning light, a quiet and solemn and meditative experience, decorated by the clattering sound of falling water and the steamy warmth it imparted into my flesh. Every movement of mine still felt punctuated, exact and deliberate, and little iridescent halos traced everything like iris auras. I ate some rice and beans for some compact nutrition and smoked a bit of weed before passing into sleep. I slept pretty much all of the next day, and my nerves didn't feel completely rewarmed and functional until I had woken up. 
I saw beauty and terror, I had been stricken by awe, I had been carved out and shocked and burned and irradiated by prismatic fire that fractured my being. I was seared and smoldering and energized and so exhausted. I had borne witness to something wodnerful and terrible.

2018 in Review

Hello I'm late to writing this again
Oh well who even reads this anymore? I certainly don't, that's for sure.
So I guess it's become apparent- I don't post much anymore at all. There are several reasons for this, the first being, I really don't have many substances to try and pursue anymore. There just isn't much available on the market anymore that piques my interest. It's been that way for a while, and experiments have just felt tedious, but the work continued. Things like a prolonged period of abstinence, a failure of a large order, and a building monotony of experiences have contributed to a lack of morale to motivate earnest exploration.
This is coupled with just being very busy- with school, with steady work, with cultivating my relationships and social interactions. This has left very little time or mental energy to dedicate towards pursuing psychonautic experiments. This is also coupled with a general sense of pressure and shame- that this is a hobby of being younger, that this is something I should have grown out of and abandoned by now. That is no longer services my life, that I am just a drugged up degenerate, that I am a disappointment. And perhaps this is vindicated with my changing habits.
I have for the most part abandoned psychedelics- There aren't many new ones to try and the continual sense of sloth and shiftlessness during my experiences has led to feeling such a fundamental sense of wasting my time across all of my recent sojourns. I am just bored. I fail to motivate myself to properly stimulate myself through any activity while tripping and have for the most part lost the space to engage in them socially. Each trip feels like a waste of time, a waste of energy, fundamental uselessness. Not to mention the increasingly severe body load. It doesn't feel worth it much anymore.
Dissociatives though... hehehhahahahaha I love them so much. Experimentation doesn't feel worth it anymore, it's just pleasure, it's comfort, it's habit. I have found myself particularly gravitated towards 3-MeO-PCP, 3-MeO-PCE, and 3-HO-PCP, taking them at every opportunity. These experiences are not only pleasurable, but I sometimes find them meaningful and stimulating, despite the fact that they are not particularly novel. they are cleansing my mind, they allow me to introspect and analyze and organize my memories. And it's just fucking fun. I can easily acquire as much of any of them as I want, and I find myself able to do them in so many settings. Truly illumination in my life. I have found their use worryingly habitual, taking the place of my usual routine experimental trips. They are wonderful in social settings, they are wonderful alone, they are nice for walking around and exploring. I would love to further explore new dissociatives as they arise, and focus my efforts there. They are the most utilitarian drugs for me right now, but also probably the most potentially bad. Oh well.
And benzos... BENzOs........ never mind.
It's about comfort, familiarity, pleasure and the occasional meditative session now. The life giving meaning that psychonautics gave me has passed into the night. It's now life giving pleasure and hedonism, a life intertwined with chemical enhancement, with the occasional tired foray into exploration. I am honestly not sure which is worse or better for me, or which will continue to bring more shame and judgment to me. I just know, my life is inextricable from drugs, of any kind, no matter how much I try, and I just have to accept that.

Do I have a drug problem? I don't know. Dependence creeps in on the periphery, on a Trojan Horse of the pleasures and enhancements and comforts the drugs bring. They give me life, they give my life color, they give me a sense of competency and control over my life. Who knows what the future will hold, my life is changing a great deal soon. Maybe I will just give up soon. Expect less content in the future. I don't know who even reads this anymore. It's an exercise in vanity and navel gazing that I can throw at people to make myself look interesting or 'smart' or something. It's tedious and loses its steam and novelty pretty quickly. I no loner feel too dedicated to this. I am so tired.

It always falls from some kinda of healthy experimentation to utilitarian abuse of your hall of famers. Drugs are the life of me, drugs are the death of me.
I'm so tired and I'm sorry.
What do I gain from this anymore.

Whatever, fuckk it, here's my new substances review. From best to worst. It's shorter, I'm slippin. Sorry they're so brief and shitty I'm benzed and lazy.

1. 3-HO-PCP
My go to for a nice colorful and intense hole experience on dissociatives now. Not quite like MXE was, much less euphoric and a little more stressful, but appropriately vivid and exploratory. The sheer intensity takes a bit of getting used to. It's my comfortable distant place.
2. 4-AcO-DPT
This was fun! Not too much powder to snort, and it yields a powerful emotional introspection and stimulates a certain cognitive energy that foments learning and productive cognitive activity. Just a pleasurable psychedelic to immerse myself in.
3. 4-AcO-MPT
This was interesting. My report ended up being the first written for this subtstance. Short, sweet, energetic, and dynamic, with flowery visuals and a sense that the world as acting exactly as it should. Recommended for those who wish to explore something rare or new.
4. DiPT
The sound one, super interesting, but the novelty wears off quick. I really wish I could better understand the neurological underpinnings of this substance's effects.
5. 1P-LSD
Standard psychedelic, yields a nice experience depending on setting but overall not much to say to it.
6. N-Ethylhexedrone
fun fun fun fun fun too much fun too fast be safe
7. 2F-DCK
Sinking deep boring ketamine, ketamine encased in purple resin, ketamine minus the rush.
8. 4-MeO-MiPT
Literally just feels bad

Flubromazepam
Great way to loose a couple days, no furhter comment.

I am a degenerate and maybe I will get my comeuppance. Sorry to those I have hurt. I'm losing my steam and grappling with how much I may have fucked up my life

I'm sorry

2F-DCK (Intranasal)

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 150 mg Intranasal

Setting: My apartment

T0:00 – Suck down two fat mounds of powder- it has been quite a while since I have had to snort so much powder at once, and it is exceedingly unpleasant, as expected. It doesn’t have the acrid petroleum odor and flavor of other arylcyclohexylamines, rather it is more of a musty, rancid smell.

T0:08 – A gentle wave begins to wash over me, a cascade of dissociation running down the length of my body like syrup. It manifests as a sense of feeling dizzy, lightheaded and perceptually askew. The burgeoning feeling is bulbous and pulsing, like a bubble expanding in my mind. The drip is starting down the back of my throat, and it is predictably very unpleasant. A dry sandy numbness begins to settle in my extremities.

T0:20 - I feel a numb sense of fading in my face as though a gentle breeze is stripping away my sensory experience. The drug is making my surroundings flow around me, rather than the drug flowing through me. I am mentally very distant and disconnected, my thoughts turning to an empty neutrality.

It feels like muted ketamine, whereas ketamine kicks down the door, this one just quietly slithers in and constricts me. There is the similar sense of waves slowly pulsing up and down the length of my body, as though I am an oily film on the surface of a rippling pool.

T0:30 – I have been immersed in a great dense stratus cloud that has settled over my existence. An icy dissociation freezes its way into my limbs. The visuals are dim and boring, barely discernible with eyes open or closed. This turns out to just be the prologue to the experience however-

I soon seep past this antechamber and begin to feel subject to overwhelming dissociation in earnest. It races down my limbs and into my being, blurring and deconstructing the world around me, turning it still and vitreous. My vision becomes nothing but a mere still image, devoid of the usual connections and associations that sensory stimuli generate. My open-eyed vision begins pulsing and flashing, as a sense of numbness and oscillating motion grips me, like great strong hands of icy static clutching my face, squeezing my arms, and wrangling my mind. I smoke cannabis from a bowl as I peak and nurse it over the next 10 minutes or so, this seems to have an effect of igniting flareups in the experience, bringing out the visuals and illuminating its overall intensity.

T0:35 - Everything has converged into a very heavy mass, sinking into the fabric of reality, sagging it down. My mind still feels fairly lucid, but my body is trapped in viscous syrup. Everything feels very blue and purple. My sense of space is spasming- At once I feel very far away, very high up, very distant, then shrunken, compact, sinking into the earth.

T0:40 – Some dissociatives have a sense of rushing force, like a raging torrent of dissociation stripping my senses away with furious velocity. There is a vicious manic energy to them, with racing thoughts and soaring visuals. This one presents as more of a sinking, suppressing dissociative, where I am slowly being immersed deeper and deeper into the pressing depths of a viscous numbing fluid. I fee like a malleable piece of bent metal.

T0:45 - I am still cognitively very lucid and this seems to generate a sense of dissonance with how heavily dissociated my body is. My extremities feel like little crystals of syrup

My essence is dripping all over and there is a great weight in my head, as if a huge brick is glued to my brain. Closing my eyes yields a dulled space, decorated with cool colors like teals and violets.

T0:54 - The experience is already on the downturn. I feel out of breath, despite it not being particularly jarring or intense. My mind is running exponentially faster with each passing moment as it rises out of the pool of this experience, my body is stil running slow. I still simultaneously feel spacey, droopy and deconstructed. I get up to go to the bathroom, walking is wobbly and difficult, but in more of a drunken way than the usual astoundingly broken proprioception that other dissociatives can impart.

T1:08 - I cut out and redose 60 mg intranasally. It’s much less unpleasant this time, probably because I am already pretty dissociated.

T1:15 – The second dose hits fast and hard, like an avalanche crushing my consciousness. I have been impacted, splattered across the dissociative space. My mind twists and bends to accommodate this striking new stimulus, or rather the lack thereof, as it smothers my perceptions. The closed eyed visuals have manifested more clearly, as grand violet forms slowly revolving and rotating around me, a dim room with stark corners and walls, formless yet acutely defined, empty and blank with great sharp rectangular voids.

My body feels like it’s being scanned as waves slowly pass through it, reading every bit of its form. Pulses run through my body and drag its essence along with them, turning my sense of self into a warped, smeared mess. I get many of the classical non-manic dissociative effects- the sense of movement when I am still, blurry double vision, difficultly reading, a twitching and flashing gripping my visual field.

T1:25 - I am being spackled and spat across a grandiose void onto a gently rotating nexus. My seemingly comatose body is turning around it, a swirling violet Armageddon like a furious aurora thrashing above me, fracturing into looming blocks of color. I feel like I am being ground between the gravitation force of two great cosmic wheels, but it is an entirely pleasant sensation. With my eyes open, everything is draped in a matte veil of wintry blue.

I am sinking into a casket, I am gelatinous and blank, entombed in a gooey crystal prison garden, a sense of constriction and swelling and tightness overtakes me, as if I am being wrapped in cellophane or as if I am an arthropod about to burst from its vitreous exoskeleton. There are odd little pressure anomalies traveling around my body, as if little hands are brushing me and tapping me all over, particularly up and down my legs. The room is spinning and I am wildly dizzy. I would describe it as “dark ketamine”.

T1:40 – I am curled into a ball as the experience slowly weakens its grip, like a tide going out and dragging the sediment with it, the waters cold and glassy and deep midnight violet. The great deep sinking has given way to a gentler dissociation, like slowly being blanketed by snow. Everything is slowing down, I am definitely able to walk and function more, but each movement is still very punctuated and marked with exaggerated momentum.

T1:50 - I am drooping and lowering slowly, my form is returning to my body but I feel like a distant and numb icy wraith.

T2:00- it continues to fade, still some residual numbness in my extremities and a sense of feeling cognitively distant.

T3:00- almost back to baseline, have a bit of a headache

T4:00 – Returned almost entirely to baseline.

Conclusion: 2F-DCK is a sinking incapacitating sort of dissociative. It is reminiscent of ketamine in terms of duration and overall feeling, but it has had the energy and light of ketamine ablated. It is a suppressed, sinking, duller and stiller dissociative, it holds the user very still and drapes them in a cascade of syrupy blue resin that hardens around them.

1P-LSD

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 150 ug 1P-LSD sublingual on microdot

Setting: My apartment

Preface: Woke up in the morning with a friend. She did some cocaine to start her morning and muster up the energy to go to work and I took a bump too. After smoking some weed too we went out and got breakfast together before she left and I went back home. By the time I embarked on this journey it had mostly worn off.

T0:00- Microdot is popped in as I waited for the bus near my house. I stop by a bodega to get gum and water. My plan is to visit one of my favorite places in the city, a vast crumbling cemetery where the depths of it have been wholly reclaimed by nature- tombstones submerged in seas of undergrowth and wrenched from the ground by the sinuous roots of the forest. It is a grey, misty day.

T0:20- I get off the bus and wait for a trolley that will take me to where I need to go. There is a burgeoning sense of nausea and discomfort creeping up my body, but it still sits quietly within me like a secret. The sensory effects have not begun to manifest yet.

T0:36- I arrive at my destination. I am already beginning to feel anxious and on edge with the presence of other people nearby and am eager to slink behind the fence and into the sprawling meadow before me. There is a tightening in my gut as if my body is reflexively reacting with anxiety, even though I am in peace and solitude now. My mind is swimming, afloat on an increasingly turbulent sea, the grand chorus of insects in the bushes nudging it about like an undulating wall of sonic breezes. The visuals begin to pick up as a flashing in my periphery, abstract forms creeping in from the side and slowly bleeding their way into my entire field of vision. 

T0:44- There's a twisting in my guts that makes me have to stop as I'm walking around. I sit on the stone walls and try to lie down to bring some modicum of relief to the creeping deep discomfort. Cavernous chills run up and down my spine, I am shaking and twitching as the icy river of this trip begins to break through the floodgates and rush all over me, consuming me and tracing its way to the tips of my extremities. 

T0:51- I sift through the copses of trees peering around for all the little creatures of this world, overgrown tombstones at my feet and overgrown grey obelisks pinned to the sky above me. The muted shadows of the trees are like thin veils that I drift through as the ground undulates beneath me, adorned with all variety of blossoming colors. The sky is writhing and occasionally wringing a brief shower of rain down, as if it was incontinent. The mental effects are picking up as certain words and phrases in my clearly articulated thought processes catch like leaf litter catching on a riffle, swirling around in my head and embedding themselves as echoing intrusive thoughts. They bounce around my skull as I bounce around the jovial grey and green all around me.

T1:09- I arrive at a grand hilltop overlooking the entire cemetery- at the peak of this hill is a towering pillar topped with the freemason logo, with several other mason graves in a circle around it. I laid down at the base of this grave, sprawled out on the cold eroded marble as I stared into the clouds, beams of sunlight peering out from the cracks between them. It felt as though there was a jet of light and energy erupting from my mind into the sky above, the clouds gathering around me and radiating around it, the earth in concentric circles around my being. It was a sense of incredible self indulgent energy coupled with a sense of being indelibly bound to my surroundings. The afternoon sky's stratus blankets stalked in concentric rings as traceries of light began to weave themselves with their undulating forms. The stone beneath me spoke of the eons it had inhabited and the tension of its tightly bonded crystalline structures. The grass and soil beneath me whispered tales of its drama and struggles, of the creatures that devoured each other and cells lysing and being lysed and passing their nutrients onto other living, metabolizing cells. The trees that shrouded the earth heaved sighs of the wind that tickled their leaves, the larvae that wriggled into their bark, the sunlight that adorned them with photosynthetic energy, the rains that quenched their thirst, the roots tangled in an intimate playdate with the soil, and the incomprehensible beauty of their uncontrollably unpredictable branching forms. So much of the world around me, so much of it so densely tangled and intermingling, and there was me, an interloper, both out of place among their calculated interactions yet inextricably intertwined and exactly where I needed to be.

T1:35- I have now situated myself at the base of a glorious Virginia Pine at the top of the hill overlooking the rest of the cemetery, a lofty tree with limbs that span the sky parallel to the earth, giving the appearance of a looming colossus with outstretched arms. I observed this giant closely and intimately, gazing upon the lichens and molds and slime molds and mosses that had gathered on its bark, imagining the intricate microcosms contained on its being, the lives so delicately and uncontrollably intertwined with its own. My mind became enraptured with the idea of microcosms and I became engrossed in quietly observing all the tiny things that crawled among its roots and lived out their daily struggle for life and death in a space of less than a square foot. It was absurd to imagine all this life that adapted and radiated and diversified just to arrive at the current time- a plethora of forms recycling nutrients and propagating themselves on this tree in so many different ways, eking out every last bit of the sun's energy and the earth's boundless assemblage of molecules. 

T1:48- I wandered off into the woodsy part of the cemetery and am just in awe at the lushness of the world around me, the explosions of life, it was as if the forest was breathing. It had rained all week and was drizzly today, meaning all the forest's variety of fungi were in full bloom, bracket polypores jutting out of every tree and log, all variety of little mushrooms in dark little places and dense clumps of mosses and lichens thriving in the misty air. I felt like I was being uncontrollably subjected to their radiance, their pulses of life and their respiratory byproducts as they traversed the air around me, an entire thrumming prismatic shower of life. I was so enthralled by my surroundings that I didn't notice another person was in the woods too, also aimlessly wandering. I quickly retreated deeper and out of sight, before I could be seen. I was intractably locked into this mindset now of being enmeshed with these microcosms around me that being suddenly dunked back into the reality of a human existence with other people was very jarring. I don't know why I was so anxious about seeing another person, perhaps I had lost my sense of self among all the plants and fungi and was scared of how it may be expressed. Indeed I was tripping pretty hard at this point, the visual distortions were loud and apparent and I was separated enough from base reality to feel uncomfortable when I had to confront it. 

T2:03- I crossed a very fast and busy road with no stops or crosswalks to access the other side of the cemetery, which was a terrifying ordeal. The trip had manifested itself into alternating waves of sensation- a crest of nervous stimulation, physical discomfort, and an echoing, creeping throbbing and reverberation of my senses, coupled with troughs of stillness, peace, tranquility, and a quiet trickling of gently altered sensations down my neurons. To what degree this was guided by the setting I could not confidently determine. I was amidst the grand necropolis, smoking cannabis enshrined on all sides by tombs and obelisks and towering mausoleums. A tranquility has settled over the land like a mist at dawn. Immediately prior to this I was feeling very exhausted, too warm, too sweaty, and dehydrated. I had to suppress a burgeoning sense of panic at how off kilter my body's equilibrium seemed to have become. But resting, drinking water, smoking, taking in the pleasantries of a cool breeze- it was invigorating and I felt myself on the upswing, physically, mentally, emotionally. I am so comfortable and tranquil that it seems to override the inherent stimulation of the chemical- I could fall asleep here, a soft fortress formed from the curtains of the birds and bugs singing in a chorus around me, cushioned by the pulses of their neutral impulses and respiratory byproducts. I lie at the base of a mausoleum for a while, gazing into the sky, watching paisley traceries manifest themselves from the clouds. They form and unform in a continuous stream, like the birth and death of some very ephemeral organism. I see more people approaching also seemingly aimlessly wandering and feel a quick shock of anxiety, as I must look very out of wack lying here on this tomb, falling asleep. I jolt myself up and make a quick retreat into another wooded section of the cemetery before I can be spotted. 

T2:43- I spent some time exploring some deeper woods I had not explored much before. I ducked into some dense bushes to get there, a barely discernible path through the undergrowth seemingly enshrined by the arches of vines and bushes above it, a green trail into a living, breathing oblivion. All of the walking had turned me sweaty and tired and I felt the sense of panic at the disturbance of my homeostasis again. I rested a bit to try and restore order. I spent a while in the woods, gazing closely at mushrooms and molds and other organisms that were hard at work decomposing fallen trees. As I wandered deeper into the woods, deeper into desolation, I felt pangs of fear at my isolation- indeed what would happen if I encountered someone else in this lonely place? I was fairly far into a muddy swamp when I decided to turn back- I had quietly become consumed by a unique panic and fear that my mind could only form when afflicted with such a dense chemical stimulation. Upon returning to the open cemetery I lay on a pathway and gazed longer into the sky, focusing on the visual aspect of the trip- the clouds forming into paisley mirror images of themselves and echoing into oblivion, reverberating to the horizon, their fringes and gaps awash with swirling fluxes of color. The sky is undulating and breathing and there are so many infinitely flowing and warping patterns that are folding themselves out of the disorder. Indeed this trip seems to be tangled in the contradictions of order and disorder- of the apparent disorder of the natural world around me, despite it all functioning along very clear lines of chemical and physical interactions, just so many tangles and threads that is beyond the scope of our understanding of order, the visualization of it all as microcosms as an attempt to turn the intricately assembled ecosystems into neatly compartmentalized closed systems- it's all so much and I am thinking so much and I honestly just need to chill. It's such a nice place to think though. The clouds are not formed into entities or conscious patterns or hallucinations, it's all so abstract, like the self propagating molecules that would soon give rise to life vs. the coherent forms of the organisms they would eventually assemble. 

T3:20- I have moved on to another part of the cemetery. My path has been stalked by deer, families of does and bucks quietly surrounding me and staring at me. It makes me feel very nervous. They all eventually turn tail and run though. I have found myself sucked into microcosms again, this time observing the insect life hiding under some rotting bark at the base of a big maple tree. So many little trails of slime molds, so many insects haphazardly crawling around experiencing such an alien life to mine, all of them gently submerged in a rich tapestry of hallucinated colors and patterns and harmonious dancing and transfiguring forms.  I have become so immersed in these microcosms that every time I look up from what I'm doing it feels like waking up from a dream, just suddenly being exposed from a very different world than the one I was previously engaged in. It's very disorienting to say the least. 

T3:48- Decide to set off for home. I'm running low on water and want to be at peace in my own comfortable place. I take deep breaths and prepare myself to be immersed back into the world of people, as one would prepare for the shock of jumping into cold water. I walk to the trolley stop, the tightly packed rowhomes towering around me and draped by the overcast sky. Passerby look like caricatures of people, features exaggerated and distorted, and colorful patterns still dance and play across my field of vision. I am blessed that the trolley arrives just as I get to the corner, so I don't have to wait around, exposed and vulnerable. The trolley and bus ride home are uneventful, there was barely anyone on board either and I could just find a seat towards the back in which I could curl up and hide. It was an overcast but pleasant afternoon and there were all sorts of people just leisurely going about their days all around me.The heart of the world beats on all sides of me, everything is moving and existing and living as an intricate clockwork that I am immersed in, inextricably  part of, for better or worse.

T4:28- I arrive home and immediately retreat to my cave. I feel light and floaty and bouncy, as if I am a buoyant ghost drifting around. The visuals have died down but they still carry a bit of momentum, crawling around my perceptual space, weaving around each other but slowly fading out like apoptosis.

T6:47- I have mostly just been lazing around on my computer, I smoke cannabis which brings some of the dazzling features of the trip back for a bit but I am definitely on a steady downward slide. There is some residual physical discomfort like nausea, urinary retention and muscle tension. The day wears on and the sun sets and the novelty feels like its been drained from the experience. There is a show at my house tonight and I can hear the sounds and activity of people beginning to arrive. I'm content to be in my room with the vestigial patterns playing on the walls, the sounds a dull reverberating murmur.

T9:30- I went outside to socialize but I find myself not being able to talk much, I am content with being curled in a ball in the corner, listening. I still feel stimmy and interacting with people feels slightly awkward but at least they do not look like distorted caricatures now. As the night wears on I smoke more weed and become more competently immersed in my social interactions. 

T14:00- The night has wound down and most people have left my house at this point. I go to sleep without issue.

Conclusion: It is hypothesized that 1P-LSD is a prodrug to LSD, meaning that they would be functionally indistinguishable in vivo. I had this in mind throughout the trip and of course I didn't perform this in a controlled manner with an identical setting, though for reference I did spend my last bicycle day going for a long walk on an overcast afternoon. In general, Lysergamides are hard to distinguish from each other and this was no exception. I was immersed deep in contemplation throughout most of the experience, and I would consider this a potent introspective and analytical tool. Stimulation and bodyload wasn't out of the ordinary and there wasn't any particularly unique character to the visuals. To my discretion, there wasn't much to distinguish this from standard LSD, but perhaps further study is required. It nonetheless yielded an enjoyable and valuable experience. 

DiPT

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 70 mg oral DiPT

Setting: My apartment

I had already experimented once with DiPT. I tested the waters with a low dose, as my research had suggested that along with its novel auditory effects, DiPT is heavy on the mind and body. I ended up polluting and adorning my first experience with an assortment of other substances after finding it much more manageable than expected. For this second experiment I increased the dose and made sure to not add anything to it other than cannabis.

T0:00- Dose taken in gel cap.

T0:40- Begin to feel the first notes- the usual nausea, though it is slighter than it is with many tryptamines.

T0:50- The other expected physical symptoms begin to kick in- chills, shaking, further GI discomfort.

T0:56- The first hint of the predicted auditory effects begins to manifest. There is a slightly noticeable drop in pitch. I am listening to familiar music to serve as a reference.

T1:15- Sounds are getting deeper. Despite the fact that I am objectively being slowly and gradually immersed into this experience, I have a sense of rapidly and violently sinking and spinning down and down, like a pebble in a lake- it's like a auditorily illustrated descent into madness, a great big waterslide into a bulging syrup that swallows every sound that comes to me. My mind is reeling and I am shaking a great deal more.

T1:35- It’s still burgeoning and ballooning, I put a playlist of familiar music on shuffle as a reference point to fully analyze the alterations. The slide into this trip is gradual and continuous- it seems like every song sounds deeper than the last. Perhaps this is a perceptual illusion, like a Shepard’s tone, but what isn’t a perceptual illusion while tripping? Are the effects asymptotic? At what point will they level out? Only the passage of time will answer these questions. However just when I think I am following a predictable slide into the bubbling cauldron of effects, new perceptions begin to manifest-

There is slight warping at the edges of my vision, like viewing the world through a glass disc, curved around its rim. It is subtle but definitely noticeable. This was entirely absent with a lower dose.  

Soon the auditory changes are not characterized only by a drop in tone, but also by a sense of bending and flanging and whirling and warping. It feels analogous to how the visual effects of psychedelics alter base visual perception- the ways in which my visual input would be altered have transposed themselves onto my auditory stimuli. Perhaps if I had more understanding of sound, tone, and music theory, I would be able to discern patterns and structures similar to the patterns and superstructures present in the visual perceptions of more standard psychedelics. To my mind however, it is simply a chaotic and esoteric shakedown of my sensory experience. The timbre of everything simply sounds “broken” for lack of any better description- it all feels so wrong, yet it is simply the experience I have subjected myself to, and I am content to accept that.

The bodyload sits atop the trip like a gargoyle, unpleasant but entirely manageable. The nausea is bubbling and tense, as if the churning of my stomach has a magnetic energy that pulls my muscles inwards towards it, taut and unnerving.

T2:00- To answer my previous questions- sounds still do seem to be getting deeper, albeit it a slower and subtler rate. I would describe the progression of effects as being certainly asymptotic. My auditory input is adorned with further hallucinatory effects- Now there are odd off kilter harmonies sliding up alongside everything – as if every sound has a duplicate that is shifted slightly out of phase, turning the world into a beautiful cacophony of discordant tones, yet this is not unpleasant in the least, it is mostly fascinating.

The last time I did this, I found the novelty of the experience exhilarating. I felt elated and euphoric and wanted to communicate this enthusiasm with everybody I knew, as if the drug had an empathogenic effect. This time around however, the novelty has worn off and the experience is very matter of fact- merely existing before me. Perhaps all of the euphoria, the excitement, the sociability from last time was just a result of being enthralled at the novelty of the experience. I am decidedly content with the experience I am having now but am not feeling much beyond that.

Cognitively I am still largely functional, typing the same, existing the same, I could probably pass for sober in most contexts were I not so weirded out and distracted by the alterations to sound.

T2:36- Things definitely have a sort of ringing metallic quality now, as if every sound is being played inside of or being emitted from a steel drum. It is like the room has become round and reflective around me and every sound is bouncing off the walls and splattering and clattering around every which way, a sharp metallic reverberance.

The out of phase harmonies that accompanied every sound have now taken on a form of their own, it’s as if every bit of input has a ghost image, shifted slightly askew, fuzzed and twisted into a ringing, beeping, buzzy corruption of their source, a pixelated simulacrum.

T2:50- Decided to work on a drawing that was commissioned by one of my friends. I notice that my drawing ability doesn't feel altered in any way- none of the flowing traceries and patterns and repetitive or radiating or exponential forms that I typically draw while on psychedelics.  While listening to more music I notice the flanging effect is less noted through headphones than through speakers, as if the distance the sound travels through the air gives it a greater capacity for the drug to wrangle it and bend it out of shape. Another odd effect is music with voices that have been pitched up now sound completely normal- this shouldn’t be surprising or interesting in the least, it was entirely expected, but it was interesting to observe. Aside from that, sounds still are tinny and have an odd ring to them.

T4:20- The effects have for the most part leveled off- the asymptote is now in its holding pattern as it approaches zero. I have been watching youtube videos for the better part of the last hour. Mostly videos of airsoft because I was curious about the hobby, having never participated. Watching videos of people and hearing their voices in a non-musical context provides for a new interesting stimulus. Every voice of course sounds lower, but is also accompanied by an odd low buzzing, like a speaker clipping. It’s as if there is a fuzzy distortion oozing off of every sound and pooling at their feet, a jumble of artifacts and noise.

T6:00- The auditory effects linger but barely noticeable at this point. I am unsure as to whether or not I have simply gotten used to them and tuned them out or whether they have truly faded. I don’t really care to be honest though. I smoke more cannabis and it has no effect on that aspect of the experience.

T7:00- Call it a night and go to sleep with no problem.

Conclusion: This drug did exactly as advertised. There isn’t too much more to say on it at this dose. Higher doses may yield more profound disruptions of one’s sensory experience. At this level though it is at the very least an interesting novelty that all self-proclaimed psychonauts would find fascinating and perhaps glean some value from. It’s a curious experience but so far hasn’t proven to be much beyond that.

DiPT + Nitrous Oxide + 3-MeO-PCP + Etizolam

Age: 23

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 40 mg oral DiPT, 2 canisters Nitrous Oxide, 10 mg 3-MeO-PCP oral, 2 mg Etizolam

Setting: My apartment

T0:00- Dosed in a gel cap on an empty stomach.

T0:40- Mostly just feel tired. I am fairly sleep deprived going into this. I begin to doze off.

T1:00- I am awakened by a knock on my door. One of my friends decided to pay me a surprise visit. I am certainly not used to knocks on my bedroom door and I am grateful I was not tripping harder or this situation would have proven impossible to navigate. It was a pleasant although unexpected visit (I would prefer a message in advance in the future). As we were hanging out talking, I noticed an odd feeling creeping up on me more and more. It wasn’t the churning bodyload of a coming trip, or the odd shift in reality, but just a glowing high and dry feeling, starting to smolder in my core. This demanded my focus and attention and I quickly found myself zoning out in the conversation I was having. No sensory effects were noted yet but I ended up dismissing my friend so I could ride out whatever experience was approaching.

T1:45- The bodyload creeps up now. My muscles are tense and my extremities are shaking, as a slight nausea walks circles in my stomach before settling down to sleep. I smoke some cannabis to mitigate these effects.

T2:00- The world feels as though it’s melting, that everything is turning into liquid and aether around me. This isn’t perceived visually, rather it’s just the essence of that feeling being imposed on my mind. I am adrift and swimming amongst this melted world that still appears very much solid in my eyes.

And then, the most famous effect of all- I have begun to notice that music is distinctly deeper. Though it is only slightly deeper in tone it has a sense of depth in that it feels like it occupies more space, that is has more force and booming cavernous energy behind it. I am listening to my music on shuffle to explore the effect.

With each song that comes on, the pitch drop is more and more noticeable. There is accompanied by a sense of the waves cancelling each other out and going blank randomly, like the different parts of each song I listen to have been shifted out of phase in a way that they destructively interfere. My immersion into this experience is like a bubble suddenly popped in my head and this is what remains, similar to how one’s ears would pop on a plane.  At this point it’s not particularly exciting, just weird and novel. I am cognitively mostly lucid, with just the smoldering glowing high that is standard with psychedelics.

T2:30- I run into my roommate in the hallway while refilling my water and speak to her a bit. It’s very strange- my voice is odd and deep and booming and I physically feel as though my throat should be larger because of the depth of my voice. It’s an odd dissonance that manifests psychosomatically. Her voice too is the same kind of deep- it’s profoundly strange to witness that effect coming from a living breathing human being.

I am having fun, I am playing with more stimuli just to sample how intense the effect is. I feel giggly and elated, not from any particular pharmacological euphoric effect, but a giddiness as this novelty. I want to brag to all my friends about this truly unique experience. I message and chat with many different people who I have told about this drug before I had tasted it, conversation flows smoothly and articulately. I’m having a great deal of fun sharing the details of my particularly odd experience with others.

I decide to continue experimenting with different auditory inputs, this time by watching an episode of “The Simpsons”. I figure it will be something familiar that exists as a clear reference point in my mind so I will be able to clearly discern how sound has been altered. To that end, I settled on one of the episodes I had seen the most times, “Bart vs. Australia”.

T2:55- After watching the episode, I get the impression that the auditory effects seem to be a thin veneer, not fully formed. For the duration of watching the show, they lapse in and out of existence but sometimes they'll catch on me like a sunbeam shining off of a glittering crystal. They duck in and out and are at times very intense and jarring, while at others being hardly noticeable. This seems to fade in and out at random, though to a degree It's like the effect is more pronounced the more I'm paying attention to it.

T3:30- I take a gravity bong hit of weed and prepare to take nitrous, just to delve even deeper. I fill two balloons with the sweet gas, one balloon with two canisters and the other with just one canister. Upon getting ready to take the plunge, the balloon with one canister pops. Oh well.

The effects of nitrous were like I was lying down in a great void while a wall of sound, big deep black and shining blasted in the distance, its sound cavernous and immense. But I was paralyzed, floating in place, frozen into the mirror stillness of an inky puddle while this menacing auditory monolith loomed in the distance, blotting out the sun and drenching me in the shadow of its sound. The flanging waves of its thunder were visible as they roared through the air, rippling the fabric of reality with them. Within a minute or two the effects had predictably faded, leaving me feeling spaced out and dizzy, also as expected. There wasn’t much observed synergy between the substances, save for the fact that the typical nitrous flanging and phaser effect was deeper and heavier.

T5:00- I have been languid and bored for the last few hours, doing nothing but browsing the internet and listening to music. The novelty has for the most part entirely worn off from the experience. I decide to dose 8 mg 3-MeO-PCP orally just to spice things up a little bit.

T5:30- Start to feel the dissociation like a big cloud or a huge fog bank hovering over my brain, blurring and distorting everything that passes and streams through it. What were once crystal clear distortions have been sacrificed to noise and reverberation, the auditory inputs turning fuzzy and buzzy. Like sunlight through an overcast day, the light is dimmed and scattered.

T5:40- There is now a distinctive but mild tinnitus. It is very slightly annoying at worst not existing to any degree where I would consider it intrusive or problematic. Other than that, there is the typical expected interplay of 3-MeO-PCP with a psychedelic, though it is a very atypical psychedelic. The strange physical warping, the bubbly numbness, the sense that my field of vision is clenching and flashing.

T6:00- I am feeling like there is a great glacier crawling through my mind, shedding pulses of frigid intensity and strobing my field of vision. My fingertips are numb and everything still sounds deep. The beating and pulsing rages like a storm, further mutating soundwaves around them. I decide to go out for a walk, throwing a dash of etizolam onto the stack.

T6:20- I set out. I am unsure of why I am doing this or whether this is a good idea. Seemingly smelling that I had stepped outdoors, the dissociation pounced on me full force, quickly subduing my mind. I feel so genuinely and intensely out of touch with reality. I do not feel like I am actually outside, and I am questioning the physical existence of every object around me, I am questioning the very flow of time that all of these objects are subject to. My movements are uncoordinated and I am surely stumbling like a drunk. The distant appear close and the close appear distant.

I wanted to walk to the river nearby, stand on the bridge and feel the glorious breeze and gaze upon the glowing skyline of my city in a heavily altered state. I stopped at a nearby park along the way for a breather and noticed the effects reeling away- perhaps this was the etizolam cutting things off? I shouldn’t have thrown that into the mix. I desperately smoke cannabis to try and elevate myself again. I sat amongst tree roots as the effects creeped back in with the generous application of that cannabis. They enclosed me, embraced me, then choked and entombed me, the full moon inundating the night with a shower of silvery light that imparted the world with an eerie metallic glow, a glow that chewed away at my cognitively mangled form. As nice as the cannabis was, I suddenly found myself extremely thirsty.

Reaching a place where I could obtain water was a long and arduous walk on a warm night, the stresses of which imparted me with an even deeper sense of creeping sobriety. I was able to stop in a 24 hour convenience store (It was about 2 AM now) and was lucid enough to buy several bottles. Why I didn’t just fill a free cup is beyond me. The auditory effects are only barely noticeable now.

T8:00- I finally journey out to the bridge, mostly feeling dazed and tired. Further application of cannabis plunges my head back beneath the water. Truly I am nothing but a hedonist, greedily hunting for memories and experiences and ravenously devouring them. They pass through my drug infested gullet, mangled and deconstructed into their raw essences, the only thing that can be distilled from the mnemonic fog of this obscured mind. The skyline is beautiful, the lights dance on the reflection of the water, everything is still pulsing and flashing and my body still feels as though I am levitating above the bench I am sitting on. It is as if I a tuning into a great deep bass note thrumming at the heart of all of these lights and buildings, of the latent fury of the potential energy of so much constructed against the will of nature. I am truly alone in this tempestuous virtual world, entirely in the present and sequestered from all that came before and all that came after me, sequestered from all that exists around me except as pure sensory perception. It was so still around me, I felt like the only thing moving through a frozen world.

I eventually decide I should get some sleep and make the trek home, catching a bus that shortens what would otherwise be a very taxing walk. At this point, despite all of my attempts to fight it, the etizolam and the vestiges of the 3-MeO-PCP have taken their place at the forefront of my mind, fogging my memory. I remember very little of the bus ride home, other than everyone on it seemed to be asleep or on the verge of falling asleep. Illuminated by several incompetent and flickering fluorescent lights, it was such a dim and quiet and starkly tranquil yet unnerving space. The auditory effects are certainly gone by now.

T9:00- I finally arrive home. It’s comfortable and I am still catching visuals according to my notes but my memory of this is faint. They are described as bright feathery flashes and radiating feathers on the whitespace of my computer screen. Alternatively they are coralline, iridescent, the playful manifestation of the afterglow, the fireflies at dusk after a full summer day. I dosed more etizolam, ~1 mg, showered, smoked some more, and passed out, getting a long and restful sleep.