yardbirdrc
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2011
- Messages
- 160
Date: February 18, 2017 - February 19, 2017
Time: 8:00pm - 1:00am
Drug: TMA-2 (2,4,5-trimethoxyamphetamine)
Dose: 25mg
After an MDMA session last week I was lounging around the house in the usual post-MDMA languor with a few close friends. I prepared my usual "fuck this" dose of opium tea, but two of these friends felt an urge to try something psychedelic. I opened up my briefcase and asked them to pick poisons.
"What's TMA-2?", asked Molly, as she pulled the amber vial of beige powder from it's slot. I wasn't really sure how to respond. I had acquired 250mg of the stuff back in college when I noticed it on the menu of someone I was buying 2C-B from. You don't see TMA-2 everyday, and TMA proper had been on my bucket list for a long time, so I figured it was worth having on hand. I had read a bit about it but it was hard to get a real sense of it, and more than a few of the reports I had read seemed to suggest it was on the bland side. All I could really tell her was that it was related to mescaline. I drew mescaline out in her notebook and then drew TMA and TMA-2 beside it ("see: two, four, five..."), and cracked PiHKAL open to read the Shulgin camp's reports. She and another friend decided to take the plunge at 20mg.
Their experiences both seemed quite beautiful. Both of them became very social and creatively driven. Molly spent most of the night drawing in her notebook, and we all conversed effortlessly and with deep emotion (even me on my opium!) until the small hours of the morning. When I asked them for an overall impression they both said it was top-notch.
The following Saturday I woke up with one of those really clear urges to take a psychedelic. As often as possible I try to wait for these moments and utilize them. I had plans that evening to attend a small avant-garde music festival, so the light creative buzz TMA-2 seemed to produce was appealing. I weighed out 25mg and swallowed it around 8pm after a rather large meal. I figured this would be a nice "museum" level dose.
I started to notice first alerts after an hour. The first act had just finished and we were milling about the venue. In a back room there were about a dozen guitars, banjos, mandolins and whatnot hanging from the ceiling with electric fans rigged to strum the strings. In the middle of this gauntlet was a control panel where you could modulate the speed of the fans and thus the tone of the room. I felt a strange physical energy starting to build here, like after I left the room the vibrations followed me.
This energy built rapidly during the next act, which was an improvised duet between a soprano saxophone and a bass drum. The bass drum was sitting face up and the percussionist was employing an array of unorthodox techniques to elicit sound. The drum came to represent a cauldron of ayahuasca to me. The musician would blow through the hole of a cymbal and then scrape the cymbal on the drum skin, or tap out a rhythm with the back end of a stick on the side of the drum. These noises became icaros. From that point on the trip started to take a deeply meditative tone. It became clear that the setting was not appropriate for where the trip was taking me. I said goodbye to my friends and got a ride home with Molly.
During the drive I started noticing really unique physical sensations. I would get these localized pins and needles feelings, like just my chin or elbow buzzing. It reminded me of my methaqualone experiences: that "feathery" sensation. This was pretty unexpected and a little unnerving. I wondered if it was just a sensory effect or a symptom of vasoconstriction. When I walked from the car to the elevator it felt like I was walking on air.
As soon a I got in the apartment things got really intense. I started noticing a visual component not unlike mescaline's. The Basquiat print in my bathroom sprung to life. No fractals or colors or wild aztec patterns, just "life". Suddenly I cluthced Molly and wept uncontrollably. In an instant I could see the damage I'd done to my body with years of hard drug abuse and physical inactivity. I understood how much I had been neglecting my body and treating it like an afterthought. I felt an intense mental-physical connection, and fully grasped how my neglect of my body was exacerbating my psychological pain. The weeping felt like I was vomiting up all of this toxicity - like demons were being exorcised.
I laid down on the couch and began receiving direct transmissions from what I can only describe as God. I'm not a religious person at all. The only way I can explain this phenomenon is that I went so rapidly and so deeply into my own psyche that I found a part of myself so unfamiliar that it took on an external persona. Whatever happened, it was convincing. I've never felt connected in this way to a seemingly supernatural force complete with voice, intent and personality. The next hour was just an internal conversation with this voice. It told me that I needed to take care of myself. It told me to protect Molly. It told me that there was more invested in me than I realized. It told me that because my self was inextricably connected to the global consciousness, my self destruction was globally destructive as well. It pleaded with me to stop. I nodded in agreement, with my hands folded and held to my face. Then I was struck by it physically, as if by a mallet. My entire body resonated intensely with a healing vibration for maybe twenty minutes. I felt like a tuning fork, but my body remained still to the outside observer.
After the vibration stopped the presence left and the trip diminshed rapidly. I got up and walked around a bit, which wouldn't have been possible fifteen minutes earlier. This more placid state lasted another hour or two, and was more like what I expected the experience to be like in the first place. Mildly energetic, peaceful, creative. I was exhausted, though. I had just talked to God and stuff. We managed to make love anyway, and that side of it was beautiful - rivalling 2C-B even. Colors, textures, that amphetamine "umph"... yeesh.
If I were you (and I suppose I am, right?), I'd take this report as an abberation rather than a canonical appraisal of the drug's characteristics. Or more accurately, I'd consider abberation to be a central characteristic of the drug. Some people are bored by it, some people like to draw and talk on it, and I was obliterated by it at a relatively mediocre dose. This is a terse report for lack of words rather than for lack of substance.
I did end up breaking my promises with "God" eventually. I noticed my hard drug use eased up quite a bit for about two weeks, but since then I've resumed my indulgences from time to time. I am more conscious of these things now, though. I feel conflict that I didn't feel before when I reach for a cup of lean. Benzodiazepines became absolutely revolting to me for a while, and even now while I still use them sometimes I don't quite look at them the same way. Sometimes I think "damn, I should really go for a run or something", and sometimes I do. I'm more mindful in my romantic relationship. I still have a great deal of depression weighing on me but I seem to be able to more clearly see which parts of those emotions are irrational. Even if that doesn't prevent me from feeling them, it gives me a foothold that I didn't have before.
And so I sally forth.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_tma2
substancecode_amphetamines
substancecode_phenethylamines
explevel_firsttime
exptype_positive
exptype_glowing
exptype_spiritual
exptype_lifechanging
roacode_oral
Time: 8:00pm - 1:00am
Drug: TMA-2 (2,4,5-trimethoxyamphetamine)
Dose: 25mg
After an MDMA session last week I was lounging around the house in the usual post-MDMA languor with a few close friends. I prepared my usual "fuck this" dose of opium tea, but two of these friends felt an urge to try something psychedelic. I opened up my briefcase and asked them to pick poisons.
"What's TMA-2?", asked Molly, as she pulled the amber vial of beige powder from it's slot. I wasn't really sure how to respond. I had acquired 250mg of the stuff back in college when I noticed it on the menu of someone I was buying 2C-B from. You don't see TMA-2 everyday, and TMA proper had been on my bucket list for a long time, so I figured it was worth having on hand. I had read a bit about it but it was hard to get a real sense of it, and more than a few of the reports I had read seemed to suggest it was on the bland side. All I could really tell her was that it was related to mescaline. I drew mescaline out in her notebook and then drew TMA and TMA-2 beside it ("see: two, four, five..."), and cracked PiHKAL open to read the Shulgin camp's reports. She and another friend decided to take the plunge at 20mg.
Their experiences both seemed quite beautiful. Both of them became very social and creatively driven. Molly spent most of the night drawing in her notebook, and we all conversed effortlessly and with deep emotion (even me on my opium!) until the small hours of the morning. When I asked them for an overall impression they both said it was top-notch.
The following Saturday I woke up with one of those really clear urges to take a psychedelic. As often as possible I try to wait for these moments and utilize them. I had plans that evening to attend a small avant-garde music festival, so the light creative buzz TMA-2 seemed to produce was appealing. I weighed out 25mg and swallowed it around 8pm after a rather large meal. I figured this would be a nice "museum" level dose.
I started to notice first alerts after an hour. The first act had just finished and we were milling about the venue. In a back room there were about a dozen guitars, banjos, mandolins and whatnot hanging from the ceiling with electric fans rigged to strum the strings. In the middle of this gauntlet was a control panel where you could modulate the speed of the fans and thus the tone of the room. I felt a strange physical energy starting to build here, like after I left the room the vibrations followed me.
This energy built rapidly during the next act, which was an improvised duet between a soprano saxophone and a bass drum. The bass drum was sitting face up and the percussionist was employing an array of unorthodox techniques to elicit sound. The drum came to represent a cauldron of ayahuasca to me. The musician would blow through the hole of a cymbal and then scrape the cymbal on the drum skin, or tap out a rhythm with the back end of a stick on the side of the drum. These noises became icaros. From that point on the trip started to take a deeply meditative tone. It became clear that the setting was not appropriate for where the trip was taking me. I said goodbye to my friends and got a ride home with Molly.
During the drive I started noticing really unique physical sensations. I would get these localized pins and needles feelings, like just my chin or elbow buzzing. It reminded me of my methaqualone experiences: that "feathery" sensation. This was pretty unexpected and a little unnerving. I wondered if it was just a sensory effect or a symptom of vasoconstriction. When I walked from the car to the elevator it felt like I was walking on air.
As soon a I got in the apartment things got really intense. I started noticing a visual component not unlike mescaline's. The Basquiat print in my bathroom sprung to life. No fractals or colors or wild aztec patterns, just "life". Suddenly I cluthced Molly and wept uncontrollably. In an instant I could see the damage I'd done to my body with years of hard drug abuse and physical inactivity. I understood how much I had been neglecting my body and treating it like an afterthought. I felt an intense mental-physical connection, and fully grasped how my neglect of my body was exacerbating my psychological pain. The weeping felt like I was vomiting up all of this toxicity - like demons were being exorcised.
I laid down on the couch and began receiving direct transmissions from what I can only describe as God. I'm not a religious person at all. The only way I can explain this phenomenon is that I went so rapidly and so deeply into my own psyche that I found a part of myself so unfamiliar that it took on an external persona. Whatever happened, it was convincing. I've never felt connected in this way to a seemingly supernatural force complete with voice, intent and personality. The next hour was just an internal conversation with this voice. It told me that I needed to take care of myself. It told me to protect Molly. It told me that there was more invested in me than I realized. It told me that because my self was inextricably connected to the global consciousness, my self destruction was globally destructive as well. It pleaded with me to stop. I nodded in agreement, with my hands folded and held to my face. Then I was struck by it physically, as if by a mallet. My entire body resonated intensely with a healing vibration for maybe twenty minutes. I felt like a tuning fork, but my body remained still to the outside observer.
After the vibration stopped the presence left and the trip diminshed rapidly. I got up and walked around a bit, which wouldn't have been possible fifteen minutes earlier. This more placid state lasted another hour or two, and was more like what I expected the experience to be like in the first place. Mildly energetic, peaceful, creative. I was exhausted, though. I had just talked to God and stuff. We managed to make love anyway, and that side of it was beautiful - rivalling 2C-B even. Colors, textures, that amphetamine "umph"... yeesh.
If I were you (and I suppose I am, right?), I'd take this report as an abberation rather than a canonical appraisal of the drug's characteristics. Or more accurately, I'd consider abberation to be a central characteristic of the drug. Some people are bored by it, some people like to draw and talk on it, and I was obliterated by it at a relatively mediocre dose. This is a terse report for lack of words rather than for lack of substance.
I did end up breaking my promises with "God" eventually. I noticed my hard drug use eased up quite a bit for about two weeks, but since then I've resumed my indulgences from time to time. I am more conscious of these things now, though. I feel conflict that I didn't feel before when I reach for a cup of lean. Benzodiazepines became absolutely revolting to me for a while, and even now while I still use them sometimes I don't quite look at them the same way. Sometimes I think "damn, I should really go for a run or something", and sometimes I do. I'm more mindful in my romantic relationship. I still have a great deal of depression weighing on me but I seem to be able to more clearly see which parts of those emotions are irrational. Even if that doesn't prevent me from feeling them, it gives me a foothold that I didn't have before.
And so I sally forth.
Tagged by Xorkoth
substancecode_tma2
substancecode_amphetamines
substancecode_phenethylamines
explevel_firsttime
exptype_positive
exptype_glowing
exptype_spiritual
exptype_lifechanging
roacode_oral
Last edited by a moderator:
The stuff about neglecting your physical body and that feeding into your psychological malaise really resonates with where I'm at now. I got off opiates after 10 years with ibogaine in April 2014, and after that I started eating really well and exercising a lot, and transformed my body and got in shape. But as time has gone on, I have been using too many stimulants/empathogens, been drinking heavily several times a week, been smoking cigarettes, and not eating as well. I'm 33 and I'm starting to feel the stresses I've been putting on my body. And I notice I am not as strong mentally/emotionally as I was. I still feel like I'm in a great place but I've recently really realized the trajectory I'm on if I don't work on increasing my discipline. Reading your report felt powerful to me because it sort of resonated some recent realizations I've had and brought those moments back really strongly for a second (feeling kinda shitty today since last night I drank, drugged, smoked, stayed up late and ate drive-thru on the way home).
