Isopropylphenidine (NPDPA, Isophenidine)

 Age: 27

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 200 mg oral in gel cap

Setting: The house where I grew up

Preface: Isopropylphenidine (aka NPDPA, Isophenidine) (different from isopropylpheniDATE/IPPH, the stimulant methylphenidate analogue) is a dissociative in the Diarylethylamine class, similar to Diphenidine and Ephenidine. Its structure is exactly like that of Ephenidine, but with an N-isopropyl group instead of an N-ethyl group. The structure can be seen here. It was reported to be sold online in the early 2010s, though there exist almost no records of the effects, duration, and potency of this compound. 

I was fortunate enough to obtain a sample of this drug through a custom synthesis. I analyzed it via GC/MS just to confirm its identity and prove I’m not just making stuff up, which can be seen here. I titrated my dose upwards until I found a substantial dose at 200 mg orally. I shared some of the sample with others, who also found an effective dose in this range (save for one person who oddly enough, felt no effects at all- perhaps some as of yet undocumented interaction between his medications and Diarylethylamines, as he is able to feel other dissociatives perfectly fine). Like the other Diarylethylamines, Isopropylphenidine induces a strong week-long cross tolerance with other dissociatives (which made the titration process quite slow and tedious!). Threshold effects were felt at about 75 mg. I found 150 mg to quite active but not interesting enough to warrant a report. I would consider 200 mg to be an upper-mid level dose.

It is a euphoric, functional experience that allows me to effortless draw myself in and out of its depths. I found it also quite visual and cognitively stimulating. The dissociation is soft, a sense of sinking and slow and gentle flux.

I am not sure if effects would be different with other routes of administration- Diphenidine is enjoyed by many as a vaporized compound and perhaps this too would be interesting. I did not even bother with intranasal dosing as Diarylethylamines hurt a great deal when snorted and don’t seem particularly active.

 

T0:00- Dose taken.

 

T0:40- Maybe feeling the onset.

 

T0:50- Feeling a bit numb and dizzy.

 

T1:00- I am definitely starting to feel it more, a warm heaviness seeping down from my head, I vape a tiny bit of cannabis. There is a black light set up in the back yard in front of a white sheet to attract insects. I am hanging around seeing what comes in.

 

T1:05- Rapid progression of effects. A warm euphoria descends on me like a blanket, enveloping me, squeezing a tight numbness out of my extremities. I feel ductile and fluid and distractible, like my brain has become less solid and I am adrift in its eddies and whirls. Cognitively, talking to people feels nice, it feels fulfilling, like a proper dedication of my mental energy.

I close my eyes and sigh deeply. There is a sense of cool freshness, like this great aqueous consciousness is in motion, bubbling past my form and running over my bones like vitreous silk; a babbling brook in still moonlight. The water retains the residual warmth of a glistening summer sun.

 

T1:15- The dissociation makes its way down my limbs like slow rolling waves. This is pleasant, it is entirely within my grasp and my control, it is entirely internal. Visual effects present as stripes, pulses, visual snow and concentric circles, bouncing up and down as ripples, slowly. Ghostly textures and grand forms morph out of the void, defining themselves in the traceries and contours of the particles they collide with. I look at my ceiling and it looks like a topographic relief, bouncing up and down and flowing with the currents of my heavy sensation. There is a rapid sensation of rushing through my limbs, like sand is forcing its way through my capillaries. There is a weight at the back of my skull, smooth and flowing and conforming to gravity like a spill of mercury.

 

T1:40- I have to speak on the phone with family briefly over a issue with pests I observed in the house (Bostrichid beetles- grain borers; I am the family’s resident entomologist). I am perfectly able to hold conversation without suspicion. It is interesting- I can pull myself into lucidity when I need to, I can move about the house, talk coherently, research and relay information, and appear perfectly competent. Then I can sink back down into the experience, submerge myself in the pool, be withered by its deep welling currents.

I go outside and check my bug light.

 

T1:50- The night is humid and warm and loud with insect sounds, the thick soupy air swirls around me. Being up and in motion feels natural, I feel momentum and assurance, I feel comfort and warmth. I collect some interesting longhorn beetles in alcohol. I see a vast variety of little flies and moths and caddisflies, so much more than I get in my heavily developed back yard back in the city. There is a cranky European hornet patrolling the sheet, just to add an element of danger. It feels like doing my business while dodging an enemy in a video game. I am sweaty and bathed in an eerie blue glow and flourishing in my element.

Sure enough, the hornet doggedly pursues me back into the house, I have to break into a run. There is a heavy, hollow dissociation in me, like I am filled with air. There is a great pressure about my head. I go back inside and flop on the couch and it is like floating in a pool on a starlit night.

 

T2:15- I lie down and close my eyes and turn on music. There is not much internal space to explore, not much in the way of vivid closed eyed visuals or intense sensations. I try to release my body and swirl away into the space of a hole but it doesn’t happen. I am fully conscious of myself, fully conscious of the world around me, and fully conscious of this great deep blue void within which I am now adrift, tossing me about like great crawling currents under the surface of the waves. The visuals are largely incoherent, indistinct, like trying to scry meaning from dust and debris on the surface of a lake. Regular pulsing patterns underly minute textures as before, in relief, in three dimensions, on all sides of me. I am bouncing and bounding between their resonant reverberating waves. Everything moves in radial forms, in indistinct steady motions.
All of my thought processes are fully intact as I drift about this space, there is no noticeable difference in how I receive or communicate information. I can will this experience to dissipate at will, leaving little more than a faint ghostly wisp, a shell reminiscent of the presence it once had. There isn’t anything particularly colorful or psychedelic about it, like some other dissociatives tend to have, where there is an articulate free flow of association and information; it is just my regular sobered thoughts in their regular sobered patterns. It is like I am wearing a dissociative coat, the drug has not embedded within me, I am embedded within in it. It buzzes nicely in my head like that vicious hornet I had encountered before, it takes a back seat if I want it to, I cannot imagine any possible way in which this drug could be overwhelming. Perhaps it would be a good starter dissociative for the initiate, or perhaps it would be too subtle and miss the point entirely. It is something gentle and benign, even if it could overwhelm me, it would nurture and cradle me and catch me as I fall. What a trustworthy friend.

 

T2:30- Still maintaining the same steady peak, still holding at the same intensity. The experience is dreamy in its lucidity. Closed eyed visuals are still pretty indistinct. Throughout this experience, it is honestly the open eyed visuals that have taken more prominence. They are not particularly vivid or colorful but they make themselves known, as static and waves and blobs in translucent reds and blues, morphing and bubbling. I go out and look at my bugs more, I revel in the lushness of a living summer night, I revel in the light and life that immerses me and furiously pulses into the world around me, green and in motion, always moving, always entwining.

 

T3:00- I eat some food. While most dissociatives suppress my appetite, I notice no such issue here. I am starting to fade out and turn down, the experience is definitely receding.

 

T3:40- I am still getting some stripey visuals but the experience is overall less discernible now.

 

T4:30- I play videogames for a bit while watching T.V. as I come down. Nothing profound or fulfilling, just entertaining myself now.

 

T5:30- Mostly back to baseline, only feeling residual effects. No particular stimulation or sedation.

 

T6:00- Back to baseline.

 

Conclusion: Isopropylphenidine is an interesting subtle little compound that allows for total control of the experience. It is not heavy or immersive, rather the subject becomes heavy and immersive. It’s a very external experience, in opposition to the internality that a lot of dissociatives have offered me. It is an experience I am free to steer as I see fit. It is quite visual for a dissociative, especially with eyes open. My thoughts are lucid, I am able to converse clearly. But I am also able to sink in and immerse myself if I so desire. There doesn’t seem much depth to it, but perhaps that would reveal itself at higher doses- though 200 mg is already a pretty substantial dose. This is not particularly potent material It seems. It also yielded the week long cross-tolerance that other diarylethylamines seem to yield. The nature of the dissociation is heavy and in motion, like a swelling river. The visuals were particulate, and formed from larger underlying forms defining themselves in that particulate matter. Overall I consider it a worthwhile curiosity and a cool little novelty. If I had to draw a comparison to a familiar substance I would say this is closest to Ephenidine, naturally.

Dexoxadrol

 Age: 27

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 290 mg oral in solution

Setting: My house

 

To my great sadness I found this drug to be extremely unremarkable. I had been so excited to try it. I elaborate on that excitement in the intro, which incidentally ends up being about as long as the actual report, which begins at the timestamp after the big block of text.

Dexoxadrol had me fascinated from the moment I had first learned of its existence. Those who are well familiar with their dissociatives know that the vast majority belong one structural class of molecule, called the arylcyclohexylamines, such as ketamine or PCP. The diarylethylamines, such as diphenidine and ephenidine, constitute another major class of molecule that reliably produces active dissociatives. In time however, I would come to learn about another class of molecule that consistently had dissociative activity, ones that had actually been tested in people! Not only had they been tested in people, but effects reminiscent of my familiar hallucinatory experiences had been recorded. So where were these compounds in the wider landscape of psychoactive drugs?

Dexoxadrol is based on a structure called Dioxolane. It is one of several dissociative drugs derived from the dioxolane scaffold. Another example of a drug in this class is Etoxadrol. Both of these drugs were tested on humans in the 60’s and 70’s, in the context of developing a non-opioid anesthetic. Trials were ultimately abandoned due to reported hallucinatory effects, particularly the development of “nightmares”, though it is not clear if these are disturbances in natural dreaming, or intense dysphoric hallucinatory states. (It should be noted that this came shortly after PCP had fallen out of favor in the medical community, similarly as an anesthetic that had alarming hallucinogenic effects.)

I have previously written about the dioxolanes at length- both their history and their structure-activity relations.  I even made one of my handy flowcharts for potentially designing new compounds in this class.

After these trials were abandoned, dexoxadrol and the dissociative dioxolanes were mostly forgotten and wallowed in obscurity. One could find out about them by digging deep enough on the internet, and there had been a number of studies on analogous compounds in recent years. It never saw medical usage and thus never broke out into the public sphere of recreational drug use like PCP. For decades it simply didn’t exist beyond research institutions until- I was able to obtain a trial batch that had been produced to assess possible interest. The trials had run their course and the synthetic difficulty combined with the poor feedback from trial groups meant that dexoxadrol likely would never see wide availability. I had obtained some of the last scraps of that synthesis well after the matter had already been settled.

So there I had it before me, an extremely fluffy white powder with a static charge. The dioxolanes could present an entirely new frontier in the world of dissociatives, and I had the lead compound of the class in my hands, one of the first people to do so since its original trials nearly half a century prior. I was giddy with excitement!

Unfortunately, I found the drug to be quite lacking. It was certainly an active dissociative, though not a particularly interesting one. It was quite impotent and short acting, suggesting a low affinity for the target NMDA receptor. The report is short, there simply was not much to say in detail.

 

T0:00- Dose taken. The powder is fluffy and statically charged, sticking to the bag and whatever tools I use to manipulate it. This is frustrating to work with and I feel like every time I touch it I am losing some to the environment. I initially try to work it into a capsule but this quickly proves to be untenable. I eventually just aim for 300 mg and get roughly that, dump all of my tools and weigh paper into a cup of water and dissolve it all into solution. I chug it down, it is cold and bitter and makes me shudder. I wash all the materials and the container several times and drink it down to ensure I get every last bit.

 

T0:15- Onset, feeling a bit lightheaded.

 

T0:40- feeling a little more dissociated, but overall the effects have been understated, bordering on placebo.

 

T1:00- Heavy slow dissociation building. There is undeniably something here now.

 

T1:25- It hits heavier and heavier now. This is a tired, sedating dissociation. My breath is shallow, like some great mass is sitting on me. I am pinned to the ground, with no energy or motivation to move. Even lifting my arms begins to feel exhausting and taxing. There aren’t many visuals to note, both with my eyes open or closed. Perhaps there are some pulses running up and down the walls, slow motion shadows of ripples, forming like slow bubbles. I feel like I am melting and being fused together, my joints welded shut in great pools of cold noise. My head is empty and blank, all I can do is really sit there and think “Huh, I am dissociated”. I am numb and dizzy, and ultimately very still. There is no motion to this, no sense of rush or exposure or entrance; it is simple and matter of fact. Before this I was sober. Now I am not. There is not much to it and the transition from one state to the other was nothing but a subtle shift I hardly noticed. All I know is I feel quite different.

I am playing Chivalry: Medieval warfare and watching the Simpsons. Even moving my fingers to play the game feels like too much exertion for me, so I turn it off and sit on the couch. There are no alterations in my perception of the TV show, everything still makes sense and all the jokes still land.

 

T1:30- There are little tactile sensations now, dull and resigned, like some great invisible fingers made from TV static are trying to tickle me through a thick plastic tarp. My skin is otherwise all numb, a still motionless numbness like stale heavy air in a room without windows. I feel like I am sticky, perhaps just from my reluctance to move. I have been embedded in a drizzle of numbing syrup, my fingers feel numb and gooey, penetrated by my cold and still bones. I am slightly nauseous. My consciousness is securely anchored into my body; where the sensation fades, it can reliably fill in the holes. No hole will be coming out of this, my body will not be getting away from me that easily. I feel a little nauseous.

 

T2:00- I lie down and try to listen to music in the dark. My body annoyingly remains completely anchored to my mind. Closed eyed visuals do not manifest much, just the same ripples like sand dunes, steady and open and wide, moving in slow, slow pulses. They are monochrome. There is not much to say about this.

 

T2:15- It feels like the peak of the experience is already fading. I base this largely on the sense of sedation drawing away and energy returning to my limbs. I can get up and move okay, there is not much loss of coordination and proprioception. I am slow and steady, my thoughts are perfectly lucid.

 

T3:30- Back to baseline. That was uneventful.

 

Conclusion:

Dexoxadrol is definitely an active dissociative- the skewed headspace, the numbness and disconnection, all of the elements were there, albeit in conservative portions. It is a heavily sedating dissociation, reminiscent of the slow tiredness of first waking up from a long sleep. It is not particularly useful for anything other than being still. Many dissociatives are similar, but have some sort of engaging sensory space that renders the body irrelevant. This was not the case for dexoxadrol, where the most I was able to experience was dull ripples and indistinct monochrome patterns. The potency was low and the duration was short, even from an oral dose. I was not able to attempt any other routes of administration. I am certain that more interesting effects may be found at higher doses. Unfortunately, however, this trial was the last of my available material, and may perhaps be some of the last of this molecule to exist on earth beyond the walls of accredited chemistry and pharmacology labs. I am doubtful that humble little Dexoxadrol is going to see much demand or appeal.

I would still be curious to try other related compounds such as etoxadrol- after all, dexoxadrol is just one member of its family. Dexoxadrol’s unremarkable effects could very well be an aberration in the broader scheme of things- or conversely it could be standard for the class. There is only one way to find out, and I am eager to learn!  

Lastly, I did not notice any nightmares in the following 24 hour period, waking or otherwise.

DOC

I dedicate this report to the memory of Ann Shulgin. For those of us who seek to document the wide wonderful world of psychedelics, you are a giant upon whose shoulders we stand, and we all owe you our eternal gratitude. 


This is a long one. It was a long experience. It's not particularly exciting, I don't expect anyone to read all of it, but I'll share it here for documentation purposes. 

Age: 26

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 5.4 mg oral in gel cap

Setting: My house

 

DOC needs little introduction, it is not a novel compound by any measure and within certain communities hardly an obscure one. It’s a psychedelic amphetamine, they last forever and are very potent.

On a more personal note, it took me a very long time to find what was already a renowned and attainable compound. I am always curious about SAR and curious about comparing the psychedelic amphetamines to their 2C-x counterparts. 2C-C is one of my favorite psychedelics of all time. I was excited to try its amphetamine cousin. Difficulty in executing this trip mainly just came about from circumstance- I needed an extended amount of time alone in my own home, something difficult to do when I live with my partner and work full time. After I obtained my sample I waited about a year and a half until the stars finally aligned- a warm late spring day, the house to myself for an extended period of time, no responsibilities and the whole long weekend ahead of me. It was finally time. I did not want to take this opportunity lightly so I opted for a fairly high dose. I used an analytical balance to precisely weigh out precisely 5.4 mg. This was placed in a gel cap. I ingested it shortly after waking on the morning of the experience on an empty stomach.

DOC is a challenging and mighty drug. This is demonstrated in the body of the text. It is not something to be taken lightly and perhaps lower doses are more merciful, but I reckon it should only be in the hands of those well versed in the world of psychedelics.

 

T0:00- Dose taken

 

T0:30- Onset, feeling a tad stimulated and jittery, my muscles are very tense. My fiancé leaves for the day, I am alone from here on out.

 

T0:45- DOx compounds, owing to their long duration, are expected to have a long comeup. I am surprised to find myself already entering the experience with speed and ferocity. Muscle cramps and tension grow, like my body is being bound to itself. A great painful nausea has set in and smolders in my abdomen. I take a shower. There is a buzzing feeling in the back of my skull. Light visuals begin to present, faint plays of color and pattern.

 

T1:00- I am tripping pretty damn hard. The nausea overtakes me in the shower and I throw up several times. My stomach is empty and there is nothing to come out but water. It feels like great tight fingers are gripping around my torso. I am so stimulated and nauseous and uncomfortable.  I am in misery. My mind is bright and sprouted with electric flowers. Pastel traceries trickle as slow-motion lightning strikes down my nerves the way the water traces the contours of my skin, iridescent like oil slicks. This is what I asked for is it not? Water and fire and electricity all at once, all tearing through me. I think about the week preceding this, a middling work week of doing chemistry to varying degrees of success. I think about my capabilities and limitations. I think about this being the weekend, I shouldn’t think about work. I feel like overwrought madness, I feel like a skeleton of blue vibration, detached from all of it, cleaned and invigorated.

I turn off the water, I step out. Visuals are great ripples through my field of vision, flashing like reflecting dancing sunlight, spots of bright color, shimmers of glitter, auras around objects. Everything is cast in a gentle blue and teal. I am giddy and jovial, I am having fun, I am also suffering a great deal. I cannot help but feel wonder and joy. It feels like someone has stabbed me in the gut.

 

T1:20- I get dressed in light breezy clothes and roll around. I am hot and sweaty and very uncomfortable. I realize that I didn’t begin to peak early, that that was just the beginning, that this is a heavy dose, that is still growing. Ever growing. I am maybe past the point of discomfort; I would say I am just in pain now. Ouch. Sounds begin to bend and warp, a sure signal that I am indeed in the deep deep throes of it. Flanges and trickles and twinkles, blips and blops. Visuals are relatively subdued but only grow more intense by the second, concentric patterns waving and rippling and pulsing. I am on my bed now, curled up, clutching my abdomen. I do not yet know that this will be my tomb, my altar, for the next indefinite hours. My digestive system is imploding. There is incredible weight to this, like I am facing a final boss.

 

T1:40- The power! The heft! It is like a great sword has been impaled through my skull, crystalline and pulsing with energy, webbing and radiating through my rigid form, I am locked in a trance. I cannot move, my muscles are pulled to their most violent tension; my brain projects from my skull, a ray of patterns freeing my ego from the shattered husk of my physical form. I want to be free, I want to be a ribbon caught in the wind, dancing among the clouds and reflecting the sun, but I am bound, by metal cord to this agonizing body, this tearing crackling thing that contorts under the pressure of its own form, oh poor pitiful sack of bones!

The whole of reality begins to expand and contract, like a great accordion, I am twisted in some strange form face down eyes open to only see the fabric of my bed before me, but I can sense it in every way. In the sounds, in the weight of the air around me, in the passage of time, growing, shrinking, repeating, hefting, breathing. I am at its mercy, I am not me, just one spot in this great image that stretches and bulges and pulls and closes and shrinks. It is like floating on waves in the middle of the ocean, the sun beating down, no land anywhere in sight. It is out of my hands, it is out of my control, I am just here. What can I possibly do? My physical body just lies still, rigid, tense.

It keeps growing. This mighty king of the mountains of a drug.

 

T2:00- I am reduced to a shambling ghost, a faint form hanging around the room, doing nothing. As a body I might as well be dead. As a consciousness I cannot leave that poor pained thing behind, all I can do is linger around it, comfort it as one would try to rekindle a dying fire smothered in its own ash.

I don’t know if I feel hot or cold. I don’t know if I want to lie down or stand up or throw up or if I’m hungry or thirsty or anything. Everything seems to be on alert, every alarm that can be ringing inside of me is. I am facing all of it, in such incredible force. I am something new, alone, the body and its memories are something faint and distant and frayed. I just want to be out. I want to be a spirit liberated.

If I was of another mind or a more spiritual person, I would say there is a sense of presence to this, something coming in and influencing me and my experience. But there is nothing, I am alone, physically and metaphysically, it is a great cold void, a frozen yawning mouth. All there is is me, an internality, bound to this wretched body. There is something in that body, something original and primal, something that hearkens back to the oldest divisions of cells, replications of DNA, I am stuck to this being, suffering as it is, beautiful in its complexity, beautiful in the ways it can suffer. There is an energy in my physicality, there is an essence in my body that is separate from the essence of my mind, they cannot talk, they cannot see each other, but they can intertwine, interact, synthesize into something blossoming glowing and wonderful. I wish my stomach wouldn’t hurt so much.

 

T2:30- My nervous system is inundated with electricity, I am energy in space. This is pure, all-consuming psychedelic power. My body and my mind have come to a peace and can do little more than lie still on my bed, intersecting at their base most impulses, their deepest instincts and faintest vestiges all enjoined. The great electric wind has blown everything else away and left this simplicity, a corpse and its life, laid out like specimens on an autopsy table.

Great seas of visuals drift above me, like lying in a meadow watching great cumulous clouds drift across a deep blue sky. Great radial patterns like snowflakes, drifting and breathing completely free from me; these aren’t my perceptions, these just live here. Flowing traceries, stripes and pulses and breaths of patterns, running and streaming and drifting in all sorts of shades of blue, accented with flashes of neon pink. All of the ambient noises around me reverberate and bounce and resound, growing higher in frequency as they go, trailing off into a spiraling interlocking oblivion.

 

T3:00- The wind picks up outside, carrying the shadow of an afternoon thunderstorm on its back. The thunder shakes the weight of the sky, the great blue comes down in drifts and flits of cleansing rain, soaking the warm earth, blossoming with the love of the sun. I lie still and listen to the clatter of the rain drops on the window, the wind as the beats its bass notes into the heavy glass, the thunder rolls over me yet again and again.

I think of my pain and I think of the incredible pains and tortures people have faced throughout history. Flaying, burning, breaking, 1000 cuts, drawn and quartered, impaled, eviscerated, vivisected, crushed exploded exsanguinated separated slit annihilated massacred and shattered. There is just so much you can do wrong to a body, all of it is horrible. I am blessed to not face that, it is absurd that I induce so much pain on purpose. I could have simply avoided this. But it’s not so bad, all things considered.

 

T3:30- My sweet orange cat comes into the room and cuddles up on me. I am enraptured with petting him, scratching him, letting him walk about me and sniff at me. What an angel I love him so much. All I can do physically is still lie here and writhe. The same visuals still flow down the walls, glaring in intensity. The rain has stopped, the world is saturated in light and sun again, it’s so beautiful outside but I have no intention of going out or doing anything. It is clear that all my body can do right now is lie here and writhe. Any other motion, pushing it to any other extreme, just makes it worse. I must be in my default state. My T pose of laying down.

 

T4:00- Talk to some of my dearest friends in a group chat, the same friends mentioned in many of my reports with whom I have shared so many wonderful experiences with research chemicals. It’s lovely funny witty banter, we have such a nice rapport and love each other so much. Despite being still well within the thick of the peak I am still articulate, able to understand their words and say my own. It feels like the overall intensity of the experience has leveled out, a steady heavy plateau scoured by a roiling derecho. I am cautious to feel this seeming stop to the steady acceleration of the experience thusfar. This equilibrium feels so fragile, like it could shatter and the experience could fall deeper at the slightest disturbance.

Everything is still deeply uncomfortable. It feels like there is a serpent in my stomach. I have a bit of a headache probably from muscle tension and bad posture. Visuals still bubble and swirl, difficult to characterize beyond noting their sheer intensity. My perceptions and swirled and warped and seen through a dizzying sky blue glass, in stepped concentric forms. It’s all vague, but overwhelming too.

 

T5:00- I muse about how funny it is to me that I waited a year and a half for conditions to be right for me to ingest this drug, and now that the opportunity has finally presented itself, I am just subject to monolithic physical suffering.

Someone on twitter quotes a passage from DOC’s entry in PiHKAL:

 

‘One must learn to keep one’s sense of humor. The immortal humorist Wavy Gravy once said, “If you can’t laugh at life, it just isn’t funny anymore.”’

 

Yes, Wavy Gravy, so true. Clutching at myself, trying to keep my vomit down, writhing in pain,

What else is there to do but laugh?

I decide to read the rest of the entry- now that I have a little bit of experience with synthesizing drugs, the chemistry section is no longer a formidable impenetrable wall of text. I recognize the reagents, the techniques, the purpose of each step of the process. Shulgin went about chemistry like an artisan, every move intentional and purposeful, an artist executing his craft. Shulgin’s descriptions of rote monotone chemical procedure is littered with sparks of wonder and love for what he does. I’m drawn to certain excerpts like:

“The clear solution was quickly filtered to give a clear, pale amber mother liquor, which soon started depositing lustrous white crystals.”

 

Chemistry was a craft, and I had already in a few short months grown lazy and complacent, treating it as a chore, as the tedium of work. Surely work would be more boring if I took no pride in it and viewed it as something dreary I only did out of obligation. It is something that is more exciting if I see it as something beautiful and miraculous and humbling and powerful. It is magic, it is a craft and an art and a science requiring an immense amount of learning, and I was only at the beginning of this journey, a mere apprentice with the golden opportunity to learn from experienced masters of this craft. I smoke a bit of cannabis to settle my stomach and ease the bodyload.

I aimlessly browse social media. I snoop on a lot of right-wing libertarian circles adjacent to the knife collecting hobby or firearms. Across those and my more familiar left wing spaces is astonishing agreement over a shocking recent event- the massacre of children at Robb Elementary in Uvalde, Texas, which had happened just 4 days prior to this experience. In that short time, the narrative of shock and horror had given way to an infuriating deepening scrutiny over the police response, or lack thereof. I think about the meanings of courage and cowardice, fundamental values and antithetical concepts in our world, how breaking the basic codes of courage and cowardice could bring about a social rejection worse than death. But perhaps nothing of consequence would happen, they would just quietly return to their lives and the world would forget- as of this writing that appears to be what is happening, pending even worse news.
I am back to thinking about chemistry, about living out a life as a professional chemist, different from anything I’ve ever intended. I only have about 3 months of experience under my belt. It is probably unwise to think further into the future until I have built up much more experience. I read about lab safety, particularly the case of Sheri Sangji, the research assistant at UCLA who died from severe burns suffered from a spill involving the extremely pyrophoric (combusts when exposed to air) chemical t-butyllithium.

Such continues this portion of the peak- a lot of thinking and contemplating, turning ideas and events over in my mind like studying an interesting little stone with my hands. It’s lovely, stimulating and delightful and brings interest to the otherwise dull task of lying on my bed wincing in pain.

 

T8:00 – The experience rages on. I am slowly coming off the peak now, at last at 8 hours. I determine this in being even more lucid and able to read and talk to others. I have been doing little but lying around listening to music and browsing the internet for the last few hours. The bodyload has subsided mercifully, to the point where I can comfortably get up and walk around. I no longer feel paralyzed by this beast of a substance. I briefly stepped into my backyard, soaked by the earlier rain, and breathed in the moist and humid air. The ambient sounds of my neighborhood echoed around me, reverberating and repeating into a fractal infinity- sirens, dirtbikes, children playing, dogs barking, planes overhead, all the richly textured soundscape of the city. The sun was getting low in the sky, its golden light diffuse in the steady cloud cover above. I smoked a bit of weed and breathed in the humid air, the visuals retreating like earthworms from the sun as the drug slowly steamed off of my hyperthermal body. I still felt a bit uncomfortable though and opted for the continuing dull familiarity of the soft surfaces inside of my house. I decide I want to watch a movie, to further pass the time into the comedown. Especially now that I don’t feel as though it would be overwhelming.

 

T8:23- I decide to watch “A Scanner Darkly”, Richard Linklater’s rotoscope animated adaptation of the Philip K. Dick novel. I’ve never read the book. It’s a film dripping with anxiety, paranoia, disorientation; It is like stumbling around after staring directly into a bright fluorescent lamp, it gives off an odor of stale smoke and gasoline, it is cynical and grim and relentless. Some scenes remind me of my former life in my early 20s, lounging around a horrendously messy house with my best friends and roommates at odd hours, doing strange drugs and having baffling whacked out conversations. We were kinder to each other, substantially less paranoid, but just about the same degree off-kilter from reality, as a collective unit. The movie is replete with twitches and swirling hallucinatory ticks that make it hard to determine what is coming from my perception and what is built-in. I enjoy it a great deal though. A dystopia peering through a screen to another dystopia.

 

T10:20- Movie’s done. I am 10 hours into this experience. How do I feel? I am tripping.  I am not peaking but I am definitely tripping. It is 10 at night, the sun is fully down. I ate a little capsule at 11 this morning and I am still feeling the consequences- Wavy Gravy was right, it is pretty funny. It will always be pretty funny.

I need to do something different, I need to go for a walk; I can get up and move around, the world tilts and twists and cracks around me, but I have a mission. WAL-MART! I am going to walk the path along the roaring highway to the nearby Walmart on the sallow waterfront, buy myself some instant stuff to make for dinner, head home. I live in the heart of a major dense city, but I also live within walking distance of a wasteland of big box stores, occupying what used to be shipyards, IV lines linked directly to the major highways and arterials of the city. A flatland of undulating asphalt seas, titanic boxes crowned with A/C units, veiled in white fluorescent mist of the beams glaring over their vast parking lots. It felt like a different dimension.

I strike out from my house, a light jacket, a spot of makeup; it is disorienting to step outside, it is an achievement from having my writhing grub of a form glued to a bed all day. The sky is vast above me, the shadows hide my wild eyes, there are electric twitches at my temples and a neverending sense of energy and unease. Visuals play at my periphery but I don’t give them much mind. I feel like I am taking an expedition into an alien world, doused in gloom and glow and dark and blue and wet; something from the dim gelatinous side of the universe. Fireworks piece the sky in the distance. Rain struggles down in a barely discernible mist. The lights are reflecting off the wet asphalt, dazzling and distracting me as I hurry along. I pass under one of the greatest North-South highway arterials in the region, there is a big box truck abandoned there, covered in graffiti. I am paranoid and looking over my shoulder, there is a spring in my step, the DOC sticks energy into my veins, blue and fluorescent, sputtering at my fingertips, splashing into the May night drizzle. I weave into a park along the waterfront, abandoned piers and docks crumbling and overgrown and stinking of oily city river mud. Wood and slimy concrete and the spray of coca-cola colored water under the misty stars; there are occasional settlements here, ranging from tents to established properties built from pallets and scrap wood and metal, all caked in that sweet river mud. I brought DIY self-extinguishing isopropyl powered heaters here once in the winter, to a settlement on one of the piers that had been named “Tortuga”. Now it had been swept, fenced off, the people pushed out so the same nothing could continue undisturbed, a pristine abandoned property, for no one. Signs to that affect were thoroughly vandalized, encouraging people to dissolve into the pinelands across the river, the thralls of shadowy forests where one could truly disappear if they had decided to abandon our decadent sinking ship. Shadows stood tall around me as I stalked the trails, checking my shoulders, keeping quiet, trying not to disturb anyone. It was dark, not the pitch black of a new moon but the darkness of the shadows, of great bright lights all around, glowering brighter than we are meant to glower, beaming and burning through the landscape, shooting pillars into the misty sky, but ultimately dying in the heavy rain soaked boughs of the trees, crashing on the rocks of the buildings they were to defend, casting into the night: shadows, inky, infinite, dark, darker than it was ever meant to be. I could slither and dodge amongst these, invisible in my black clothes, comfortable to feel the way an insect must feel visiting one of the aircraft warning lights on top of a towering steel suspension bridge.

I make it to the back of my mighty Walmart, a few people with shopping carts caravan supplies back to their camps along the trail. I slink out of the shadows into artificial daylight, a sterile white glow as a mocking simulacrum of the sun. The space is immense, cool, quiet. For the first time in this experience I am in close contact with other people, they are odd beings that flit in and out of my life, I can perceive them as little more than passing cars, drifting lights that filter around me. I cannot engage, it makes no sense to me. I am on an expedition plumbing this virtual reality. I grab a cart and browse the groceries. Families flow around me on all sides, their carts laden with essentials, children running around and hanging off, like nomadic caravans filtering through the industrial remnants of the world. Saturday night is the only time that many of these families can manage to stock up on what they need to live. This is the most affordable place to get it. Its all in one place, one trip. We are all indentured to this great box. I find pouches of instant rice and beans- 90 seconds in a microwave and you have a passable meal, dense enough to feel full, and most of it is usable proteins and carbohydrates. Yes I will eat the nutrient pouch.

I wander around in a daze, pushing my cart, various night people flitting around me like birds. I stop at the magazine aisle- survivalist magazines tell me what to do in the event of a fire in a high rise, how to prepare for supply chain disruptions, how to defend your house in a city where everyone could be an enemy. They could be friends too! But the magazine doesn’t mention that.

So much flows around me. So much flows into me, so much flows directly materially into my hands, as metals paints plastics all of it is in motion, in waste, production and fire and toxins and the vast cloud of terror we are inflicting on our world, the pilings of money, the arterial flow from the rivers to the roads to the tracks writhing and bending across our landscape, the trees butchered to railroad ties, steel conquering grass, grass conquering gravel, the tepid rains outside slowly rusting away the great steel beams placed in the jetties outside, built a hundred years ago to feed the waterborne trade of goods into this dense chunk of human population. And here we still are, me getting my lazy nutrition pouches, this hub of resources on the waterfront, (The water is just a formality! Trucks do the job better), the constant flow of things from places we can never imagine, coming to places that are unimaginable to the people who extract our resources. The constant ebb and flow and pulse of this great beating body; how fragile it could be, how it could so easily be disrupted; that one truck under the highway earlier; it could just go up in flames, one broken window, one road flare, that’s all it takes to have smoke and heat shutter one of the most important arteries of this nation. This whole depository of the worlds’ production, this final resting place of so many of our beautiful planet’s resources, it felt so undignified, it stank, I felt sick, I wanted to be the one who slunk out, no phone in my pocket, staying close to the curb to avoid the cameras, dead of the night, smoke and fire; to put my hand around the throat of this whole craven mess! But we needed it. I needed it, I was spending my money (or government benefits) here after all. Such antisocial misanthropic thrashings served nothing but my own privileged catharsis. We were stuck here, for better or worse.

I waited in line with tired families in soft clothes. So many different languages danced around me. My interactions with the cashier were not noteworthy. I had enough wherewithal to manage that and appear outwardly sober. I gave some of my groceries to a panhandler outside and set off for home, this time electing to walk along the busy high-speed roadway.

T12:00- It’s drizzling a bit out, it is humid and muggy. I rolled a joint before I left but I cannot find it in any of my pockets. It would be such a simple pleasure right now, stir up the remaining dust in this experience and give me something exciting. But it seems it fell out or I lost it. There is little left to the trip now, just a steady tail. I am definitely not sober, but there is little left to which I would ascribe a hallucinatory quality. It is just a smooth stimulation, a warm associative cognition and an understated euphoria, with the same subtle discomfort and tension in my muscles. A convoy of dirtbikes rolls by blasting Mexican hip hop, shuddering my whole world with sound waves. It punctuates the reverberating background noise of cars tearing across the wet asphalt. My bags are heavy and I have to stop and sit several times. Despite the stimulation I am still the same frail body with the same weak stamina.

 

T12:30- I reach home, I am extremely sweaty. I find my joint on the table by the door. Oops. I step into the backyard and smoke it. The visuals breathe with a renewed light, but it’s a dying whimper and the experience soon passes into merely being stoned form the cannabis. I tear off my sweaty clothes and immediately jump in the shower. The shower is a soothing sensation. I keep the water barely lukewarm, my body feels uncomfortably warm at baseline already.

 

T13:30- The nausea has subsided enough to eat a meal. I just whip up one of the instant rice and beans that I collected while out foraging. It goes down simply. There is still a lingering sensation in my mind though the experience has largely left my body.

 

T15:00- I have just been lounging around playing videogames and talking to my friends. Talking to people is still articulate and stimulating. There are still hints of psychedelia in how my words translate between my mind and my fingers- more cohesive, more concise, more elegant. Beyond that, it is hard to discern the drug is still there.

 

T18:00- Fully back to baseline. It is very late at night now. I stay up a few more hours and then go to sleep.

 

Conclusion: There is little I can say about DOC that hasn’t been said already. I unfortunately do not have much time in my life anymore to dedicate to long experiences such as this and must take advantage of such opportunities when they come. I am grateful that I got to experience this, grateful for the humor and grateful for the intensity and testing the limits of my endurance. DOC for me at this dose was immense, intense and domineering. The comeup alone stood tall over many of my psychedelic experiences, paralyzing me with raw psychedelic energy. The bodyload was colossal, oftentimes there was little I could do but lay there and writhe, my abdomen cramping and roiling with nausea and my muscles twitching and tense. Much of the experience was simply spent lying on my bed. There wasn’t much else I could do. I was in no condition to be outside or up and walking around. The headspace was fascinating and beautiful and cryptic and enigmatic and profound and stimulating, it is something beautiful and worthwhile. Visuals and auditory effects are present and vibrant yet manage to fade into the background of the overall intensity of the experience. The experience plateaus for a solid 5 hour or so peak after a long dizzying comeup, before a steady stimulating comedown for many many hours. This is not a drug to be taken lightly and it should only be explored by those who have already run a diverse gauntlet of hallucinogenic experiences.

5+ mg is a hefty dose that I would not recommend, even for a seasoned explorer of psychedelics. Perhaps there is a gentler character that reveals itself at lower doses though I am not in a hurry to determine that.

 

 

2-FXE

Do I call this "FXE"? "2-FXE"? do whatever you want man. Clearing up some confusion about the nomenclature of "FXE". This is labeled as "FXE" in the sidebar just so its easier for people to find, though I strongly urge using the name "2-FXE" for clarity.

Age: 26

Weight: 130 lbs

Dosage: 170 mg intranasal

Setting: My house

 

It is worth considering that the 170 mg dose I took here would be considered quite a heavy dose; my personal preference with dissociatives is for higher doses and more exploratory experiences. I would urge people exploring this compound for the first time to aim much lower.

FXE has a rocky history- The first time it came onto the scene it was offered as “FXE + 8% stimulant”. This was a very perplexing formulation- why not offer it as a pure product? The vendor would later reveal that the FXE had difficultly crystallizing and needed some sort of seed crystal to form on. Why they used another psychoactive compound and not something inert is beyond me. The stimulant used was A-D2PV, an interesting compound that actually technically belongs to the diarylethylamine class, its structure resembling Diphenidine. The presence of a beta-ketone however turns it into a cathinone-like stimulant. Most who have bioassayed A-D2PV do not have high praise for it.

Thus this batch of mixed FXE and A-D2PV was unleashed on the world, presenting as large brown rocks (The color almost certainly came from A-D2PV, we actually made a batch in the lab and the freebase indeed has a deep amber color). A-D2PV, bearing the pyrollidine group, smelled like acrid semen, similar to the pyrovalerone family of stimulants, and indeed this impure batch did too. I did run one trial with this batch, at ~80 mg, and the odor and flavor and presence of the stimulant made itself known. It was unpleasant to me. I had to find a way to separate the two compounds. I made some feeble attempts with washing with 99% isopropyl alcohol with middling success, but put the project on backburner.

But then- lo and behold- someone else stepped up to the plate and began offering “pure” FXE. I do not know if it was a new synthesis or just someone cleaning the other batch on a large scale, but I jumped at the opportunity. This time around, the crystals were clear and vitreous, beautiful to behold. I confirmed their identity on GC and MS and proceeded with my experiments. My GC/MS results for the first batch can be found here, and the purified batch can be found here.

FXE is otherwise known as 3-F-2'-Oxo-PCE, and represents the first time we see a 3-substituted halogen paired with a 2’-oxo group on the cyclohexane. We have seen other 3-halogenated arylcyclohexylaines like 3-F-PCP and 3-Cl-PCP that were certainly active. FXE is an exciting development in that same vein, and opens the door to a whole load of possibilities – I think 3-Cl-2’-Oxo-PCE would show a lot of promise! Pairing the halogen with an unsubstituted cyclohexane (eg; 3-F-PCE, 3-Cl-PCE) could also yield very interesting compounds. As a general rule, when a halogen is added to an arylcyclohexylamine in any position you see a steep drop in potency, and FXE is no exception.

FXE is fantastic material. Bright, stimulating, comfortable, with a remarkable degree of cognitive enhancement, bordering on being psychedelic. It is short, fast, heavy, and bursting with energy. I tested it at doses starting at 40 mg and working upwards. I found 80-100 mg to be a sweet spot functional sociable dose. The total duration of this compound ranges from 3-5 hours depending on dose, with a rapid onset and a short peak, with a pleasant afterglow. This is better enumerated in the conclusion.

 

T0:00- Big rock crushed into fine powder. Not unpleasant to snort, fairly painless with no distinct flavor or odor beyond  a tinge of petroleum bitterness.

 

T0:03- Rapid onset, extremities already feel numb.

 

T0:10- The dizziness and dissociation builds. The numbness climbs up my body to the crown of my skull. The air around me feels heavy and wavy. It is like I can feel the impact of the untold x-illions of atoms of gas bouncing off of my skin, this air I see just a block of wiggling particles. I am surprised at how quickly this is taking hold, I already feel like I am well into the dissociative experience. I am uncoordinated and clumsy, my proprioception has already left the building and I am left to figure out how to manage the momentum of my limbs on my own.

I begin to see visuals, faint and indistinct but there are certain flashing symmetrical bands of patterns on surfaces around me, mirroring themselves and drifting about laterally in faint yellows and orangs and reds. I see patterns flashing on the walls, hexagons, like organic molecules, perhaps an artifact of seeing molecular diagrams all day before this.

 

T0:15- My fingers feel like gummies, flopping about my keyboard littering my notes with typos. My head feels like it is going to just flop over and droop onto the floor. This is great fun, I feel jovial and in good spirits. There are striped bands of deep blues and hearty reds spinning and streaming faintly across my vision, tracing the surfaces around me. Textures on the walls begin to flow, like water running down a window, glitchy static in pink and turquoise. Concentric forms appear in my vision and ripple and bubble with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Typing is getting harder, I feel pleasant and content. There is music playing, the vocals are practically dripping with overwrought emotion, as though I can hear the singer’s vocal cords tugging directly at their heart, a lovely bit of enhancement.

 

T0:20- Really peaking now, I am truly immersed in the thick of it. The waves have crashed over my head and I don’t have even a moment to catch my breath. I am completely absorbed by it, enveloped in its twisting throes. I am lucid, I can think quite clearly “wow I am very dissociated”. It is remarkable how lucid I am despite the intensity of this. A fascinating compound. I feel like I am on a rocking boat- moving at all presents an enormous challenge. I am immersed in faint cascades of pink and bright green.

It feels like there is a great whirlpool next to me, a gravity well sucking me in, my physical form and consciousness swirling around this maelstrom, being dragged into some great glowing depth. I feel its pull, I feel like my nerves are being magnetized in one direction and it is wonderful. I am fully conscious and fully aware of this sensation and the novelty fills me with giddiness. It is odd because dissociatives usually have this “gravity well” effect centered on the user- in this case the great dark swallowing pit was some unknowable spherical mass about six feet to my right. It drags me, twists me, I surrender my body and my physical form to the sensation of being twisted around and spun slowly and slowly. I am pelted like a hailstorm with little nuggets of numbing static. My fingers have gone from uncontrollably gummy to uncontrollably stiff, typing is always a challenge.

My face is turned to a smile, there is a genuine inherent euphoria here and I love it, I love the sensation of being swirled around and losing myself, I love this sensation of gentle energy working its way up my nerves, I love the flashes of visuals and the whole world of dissociatives that we know and that we are yet to know. I am in a great pool gazing at the stars.

Visuals are timid, escaping distinction and definition, they are geometric and hexagonal, constantly flashing and constantly drifting, spilling leaking and splashing but always flowing downwards, like watching the water against a fish tank being rocked back and forth, in slick polychrome static drizzles. There are waves and pulses and auras around discreet objects. I vape a bit of cannabis.

 

T0:30- I decide to immerse myself. I plug in my headphones, close my eyes and lie down on my couch. I surrender myself to the compound. I queue up Burial’s seminal LP “Untrue”. The internal hole space of this compound is vast, it is dark, it is punctuated with streamers of light and trails of color. Everything is spinning, I feel as though I am navigating this realm still bound to my couch. I am not just myself, I am myself and whatever my body is touching, bound to this platform as it traverses the realm. It is an odd sort of distinction of where my physical form ends with respect to all other physical forms around me. There is a sense of motion, of flying, of spinning, great geometric forms in the deep violet sky deconstruct and reconstruct above me, it is a vast deep yawning beauty, a lush depth, velvet and pearlescent. It does not appear to be synesthetic, it just exists on its own, heavy and solid.
While strapped into this ride under this great inky dome, I still think, I think articulately, like my inner voice can speak uninhibited. I am thinking and thinking. Thinking about my life, my work, my relationships and love, it feels like viewing my life from the sky at night, from the eyes of a black vulture whose feathers swallow the moonlight. It is such a lovely vacation, this world of the night, where I can think and play freely. There is so much fun and excitement in being free in this realm. I think and think and fantasize and imagine, I imagine myself achieving great things, receiving great praise and recognition, discovering things that bring benefit to the masses. It’s all so self-indulgent. This is the opposite of ego death. But I love it. I just want to think and imagine what will make me feel best, I want to take refuge in potential futures I can hope to inhabit, I want to be good and beautiful and loved, appreciated and respected. The drug tells me that yes, you can get it, this is what it is like, you can imagine it and I shall provide for you. What a pleasure to have my idle fantasies crystallize before my eyes! But it is phantoms, it is illusions, there is not a moment where deep down I don’t know this. I am tasting this forbidden fruit while solidly rooted into my own ground, such satisfaction will always be mere fantasy. I am too lucid, there is nothing silencing the cynical little voice in my brain that reminds me that I am just a guest in this compound’s palace of luster and shimmer. I can still rationalize that I am ultimately the same bum on the couch who shrugged off all other potential social contact on this night to snort white crystals alone in the dark.

 

T0:40- I arise from this hole and gather myself. There is such a sense of heaviness that I automatically expected I would arise on the floor, having sunken through the couch. It was exciting and exhilarating, I hadn’t grown bored. I just wanted to see what else was going on. I am still so lucid, I can still hear myself think so loudly. I can even get up and move if I need to, with great difficulty. I am drawn to introspection and reflection, everything seems to come back to that and I wonder if there is therapeutic value in that. This is a very ego-driven substance. I am still in the dark but I open up my laptop. Despite being so dissociated I am still able to read and understand text.

 

T1:00- The next phase of this compound is a steady burn, a sterile light-blue glow, a seething burn of energy and joy and above all else, curiosity. I am in a daze under a great violet sun. I want to go on my laptop, read about the world around me, I feel ravenous to take in information and to be filled with all the energy that information carries. It is almost psychedelic, in how my thoughts and associations flow so freely into one another, in how perfectly they form and combine. This is like a cold plastic psychedelic. I feel locked in place, like an action figure in its packaging, and I am okay with that. The world is so big and wide and I want to learn and experience as much of it as possible from within my plasticine confines. Level streams of energy run over my face and my lungs like strips of silk.

 

T1:15- Beginning my descent, much of the physical dissociation is receding now. I am mostly just feeling a sense of buzzing numbness in my head and my gums. There is a still a great deal of remarkably lucid cognitive stimulation.

 

T1:40- My curiosity is insatiable- every nugget of information I stumble upon becomes a deep rabbit hole of reading and taking in as much information as possible, even the most mundane little things on the internet, the most one-off mentions of anything I scroll by on social media attract immense fascination. Some of the subjects of interest are the Vietnam and Indo-China war, particularly the biography of Võ Nguyên Giáp, Cave paintings, an incident in Brazil where a woman killed an armed robber named Elivelton Neves Moreira outside of a school, solvent welding of PVC pipes, the war in Ukraine, the show ‘Wheeler Dealers’, counterfeit pharmaceutical ketamine and the global illicit ketamine trade, the “Zonian” people of the Panama Canal, Jerusalem’s old city. All of it is for a moment intensely fascinating to me, something worth pursuing until my brain wears itself out. I hardly notice most other aspects of the experience fade away as I am so deeply engaged in reading and thinking. It feels as though my brain is forming associations and conclusions easier than normal.

 

T2:30- It feels like something is clanging around and reverberating in my skull, a conscious active dissociation, still faint, the lingering vestiges of the experience. I decide to pass the time by playing the game Yume Nikki, a quiet and slow and cryptic game where I explore the vast eerie reaches of the main character’s dreams.

,

T3:30- After playing for about an hour, I go back to ravenously reading things online. My thoughts are still active and I there is a buzzing sense of stimulation in my head, with a bit of lingering lightheadedness and dizziness, the only remaining and clearly discernible aspects of the experience.

 

T5:00- Fully back to baseline.

 

Conclusion: FXE is a lot of fun, having tried it in its purified form, it is quickly earning a place among the pantheon of my favorite dissociatives. It is euphoric, creative, fairly visual, and quite psychedelic offering a great deal of stimulating cognitive enhancement. It fills me with a ravenous curiosity and a compulsion to read and draw connections between the information I gather. At lower doses, from 70-120 mg, it is a fantastic social substance; I found myself articulate and motivated to write and talk to people. The physical dissociation grows heavier as the dose increases, as do visuals and the overall sensation of detachment and exploration. It is fairly forgiving with dosage, seeming as though there is no real steep increase in effects past a certain threshold. I did not attempt doses higher than 170 mg, though I would expect that higher doses would just see a heavier physical dissociation and a slightly longer duration. At all doses, a sense of cognitive lucidity was maintained, allowing for concise articulation and processing of the experience. This is perhaps quite valuable for introspection and meditation. The onset is very rapid for a dissociative, and the overall experience is fairly brief, which may lend it to redosing, which I have done without there being much issue with effects compounding. While cognitively stimulating, with a certain push behind thought processes, it is not manic in the sense of the other lucid dissociatives like 3-MeO-PCP or 3-MeO-PCE. I have only tried intranasal, I do not know about its potency or efficacy through other routes of administration lie oral, rectal, or intramuscular. I have found it combines well with other dissociatives, both the functional manic stimulating ones and the heavier more sedating ones, adding more heft and visual flair to those experiences. This is a substance that I am eager to explore further, and I am glad that it is now available separate from A-D2PV.