LSD - #? trip - Rough psycadellic intensity
No this is not a 'bad trip'.
This is hopefully to get someone to read it and realize that psycadellics are not all fun and games.
Sometimes we lose sight, after playing the game for so long (the chemical game). Sometimes we forget what the psycadellic world is about, and sometimes we just forget all together.
But I refuse to forget. I refuse to fall by the wayside.
LSD is beautiful - You and I are beautiful.
-------------
We dosed only two papers. Judging the intensity of this experience, these papers were very stong. Much stronger than anything we've had before. Some may scoff at 'two paper's' ... but some may also just nod their heads and say "i know exactly what you're talking about".
Begin story... process subsection intense23345--203
We ate the papers and after an hour we decided to be driven to the old apartment to get a baggy of K my friend had left there before he moved out. We got into the apartment and it was trashed. As the door opened to the old apartment, so did the psycadellic door inside my mind. Symbolic.
Couches were overturned, papers were everywhere. Trash. Garbage. The fridge was knocked over, leaning now on the counter. The dirt behind the fridge was discusting and dry, almost webby. The acid visuals began to move the walls in the apartment, as my mind spiraled inward.
I walked into the bathroom, convinced that I had to urinate. The toilet plunger was used, had shit on it, and was stuck to the wall with a toilet paper roll hanging on it. There was a femanine-pad in the toilet, along with some blood. It stank. The mirror had lipstick on it, my face was distorted and contorted. I tried to urinate... but there wasn't anything to piss out. I was feeling the need for release of my soul, not urine... a little confused.
"Focus god damnit, you mother fucking space-cadet you can do this."
We aquired the K. We got into the car and our sober friend started to ddrive us home. He was the worst driver I've ever been in a car with... and he decided to drive very fast down 880 north. There is always traffic. We dodged in and out, making quick stops here and there, almost killing many many people. I clenched up in anxety. I felt a tension in my chest and I wanted to scream at him, to call him a 'stupid inconsiderate fucker', but I was being enveloped in the visual nature of this lsd.
The 2d became 3d. It became the seat in front of me and the back of my eyelids. I felt trapped in this car. No... I felt trapped. focus. I needed to piss again...
After telling the driver that I know when I have to fucking piss and I will NOT wait until we get back, and that if he didn't 'fucking pull over right now I am going to piss in your car and be sure to splash on your retarded ass'. So we pulled over. I ran to the comfort and solace of a nearby tree. I once again tried to relieve myself... but no urine came out.
I needed release, I needed something to be let loose... I was holding something inside and it was very deep.
"come out then, you stubborn bastard"
Finally we made it back home as I launched myself out of the car. FINALLY THE CAR RIDE OF DEATH IS OVER. "You are the worst driver I've ever driven with. You're a danger to everyone on the rode" I spoke this to him, unafraid of his nerdy "silicon valley wanna be" ass as I walked into the house. I honestly wanted him to try and fight me right now... I couldn't feel a thing I was frying so hard.
Control.
I opened the door, there was now a party in this house. So many people I didn't know, so many people I did... too many hellos, too many introductions...
Loss of control.
I unrolled my sleeping bag, took off my glasses, pulled down my hoodie and curled up into the couch. I could not get deep enough into the padded comfort of it... I could not escape this tension and anxiety.
"But why escape? Stop with the dualism and get your whiney ass up, no one is going to help you if you aren't willing to help yourself". Fucker. I sat up and opened my eyes into the spirling,swirling, dominating world of acid. Someone came into the room who had only done acid once before... he was looking at me... almost crying for help. This acid was so strong... I felt his pain, but asked him to leave the room.
"can you leave me alone for a minute or two please?"
a strange pause. a change in his face.
"yeah... umm... sure I guess"
a pause. "John staring at people is not polite"
"I know, but I can't help it, you're all moving and buggy and..." He laughed.
"John please leave me alone for a moment, I can't help you right now".
We all need our time, we all need our internal reflective moments of solitude. Fuck what was the matter with me tonight? Where had I gone wrong in this trip? What is the catalyst of this overwhelmingly negative-intense feeling? Shit, I need to get my head straight.
There was a nurse. There was a witch. There was an ogre. It was a halloween party. Who was I dressed up as tonight? I looked down upon myself to see that I was definatly a character of some sort... but who? no... what was I? What had I become? It took me a second to shake this ravinous thought... ME. Who else am I going to be if not me? yes it's a simple idea stretched into insane altitudes. Dressing up, playing a role... but it wasn't about that, it was about being true to myself.
My newest recurring trip - being true to myself.
I went into my friend James bedroom and he was acting the fool, frying as hard as I was. People were laughing at him... "What is so funny, I don't understand"
James had no pants on. "Why am I not allowed to NOT wear my pants in my own room?"
The man has a point. master of his domain. If you don't like it, fuck off. I realized that I had been dragging my sleeping bag with me, it seems, just in case I needed to curl up again. I didn't want to escape now that I was finally out of that god damn car-ride, I wanted to fry.
a strange conversation between two people on acid:
Pyro: Man I love my sleeping bag, for all of it's many uses. I would sell it for 2 grand thoug.
Sloth (Pyro's good friend): I'll give you 40 bucks for it.
Pyro: You stingy fucker. You think I'd sell this wonderful sleeping bag for 40 bucks? You must be all fucked up
Sloth: yeah, I'm fucked up... but 40 bucks isn't unreasonable, as I'm sure 2 grand isn't unreasonable to you.
Pyro: But the key in the advertisment is that I'm trying to find someone who thinks on the same wavelength as me and thinks that this sleeping bag is worth 2 grand.
Sloth: Nevermind it all ,I like my sleeping bag, it's worth 2 grand.
Pyro: Man, my sleeping bag is WAY better than yours. Yours is all limp and thin.
Sloth: Hey no it's not! Don't be mean to my sleeping bag.
Pyro: Look, until you're able to come to the realization that your sleeping bag is used and slutty, you will not be able to move on in your life.
Sloth: Hey don't be profound with me! I'm frying too hard for that kind of shit.
Pyro: Get on with you life Sloth! The sleeping bag is holding you back!!! Look at mine, it's all fluffy and warm and soft and...
Sloth: STOP!!! NOOOO! I LOVE MY SLEEPING BAG.
*btw, sloth is still in his underware with his shirt and jacket on this entire time with some sober people standing around watching us like we're seriously arguing about sleeping bags*
Pyro: Fuck you then man, be content with your limp unpadded bag.
*The sober people standing around are staring at us like "what... the ... fuck"*
I started to leave the room, my sleeping bag now all rolled up and in hand... I paused and said "oh yeah, one more thing" and I took off my glasses/thew my rolled up sleeping bag at james/and charged at him like a flying squirl.
*I get james into a headlock*
Pyro: Change mother fucker!! CHANGE!! REFUSE TO BE CONTENT OR I'M NOT LETTING GO!!!
Sloth: NEVER!!!!!!!! *choke* YOU WON'T MAKE ME CARE!!!!
Pyro: But your sleeping bag is dead! It's DEAD! YOU BLIND FOOL YOUR SLEEPING BAG IS DEAD!!!
Sloth: NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS NOT DEAD, YOU BASTARD.
At this point james and I break down into uncontrollable fits of laughter at the ridiclious situation and our joke.
Pyro: "Get your pants on there's company outside"
Sloth: Yeah you're right... I'll be out in a minute.
I went back out into the part in the front rooms and decided I wanted to smoke some weed. I walked out into the backyard and did not see anyone out at the table smoking, so I took a short walk around the backyard, breathing in the fresh OPEN air. I reflected back on the last three hours... what had gone so horribly wrong? I was so twisted up that I wanted to IV some valium, and would have if I had any. I walked back inside and as I closed the door, it opened again and my friend Chris came inside asking me if I wanted to smoke. I found it so bizzar, considering that he wasn't out there when I was just out there, that initially I said 'umm... no'.. and he said louder "DO YOU WANT TO SMOKE WEED WITH US?" And I said "I understood you!!! I just don't want to right now" and he says "Ok, just checking to see if you understood"... two seconds later I realized that I did want to smoke, and that that was the initial reason for me going outside in the first place. I went outside, this time I was aware of four of five people sitting around the table smoking weed... they had been there whenI went outside the first time, but I was unaware of them.
We smoked.
I danced a little bit, tried to become closer to the acid (to myself) to find out what had gone wrong. We talked later in the evening, deep talk about acid and letting things be.
Finally we went to sleep after about 15 hours of frying. That is, after taking some sleeping pills and doing some wine drinking and weed smoking. The weed brought the visuals back right before I went to sleep and the oddest thing happened.
I saw my visual field close down like when you turn off an old TV. Where the screen become just a wide slim opening of color, and then eventually becomes a circle in the middle of the TV, all around it is black and turned off... all around the circle of color.
Pyro - Tim
No this is not a 'bad trip'.
This is hopefully to get someone to read it and realize that psycadellics are not all fun and games.
Sometimes we lose sight, after playing the game for so long (the chemical game). Sometimes we forget what the psycadellic world is about, and sometimes we just forget all together.
But I refuse to forget. I refuse to fall by the wayside.
LSD is beautiful - You and I are beautiful.
-------------
We dosed only two papers. Judging the intensity of this experience, these papers were very stong. Much stronger than anything we've had before. Some may scoff at 'two paper's' ... but some may also just nod their heads and say "i know exactly what you're talking about".
Begin story... process subsection intense23345--203
We ate the papers and after an hour we decided to be driven to the old apartment to get a baggy of K my friend had left there before he moved out. We got into the apartment and it was trashed. As the door opened to the old apartment, so did the psycadellic door inside my mind. Symbolic.
Couches were overturned, papers were everywhere. Trash. Garbage. The fridge was knocked over, leaning now on the counter. The dirt behind the fridge was discusting and dry, almost webby. The acid visuals began to move the walls in the apartment, as my mind spiraled inward.
I walked into the bathroom, convinced that I had to urinate. The toilet plunger was used, had shit on it, and was stuck to the wall with a toilet paper roll hanging on it. There was a femanine-pad in the toilet, along with some blood. It stank. The mirror had lipstick on it, my face was distorted and contorted. I tried to urinate... but there wasn't anything to piss out. I was feeling the need for release of my soul, not urine... a little confused.
"Focus god damnit, you mother fucking space-cadet you can do this."
We aquired the K. We got into the car and our sober friend started to ddrive us home. He was the worst driver I've ever been in a car with... and he decided to drive very fast down 880 north. There is always traffic. We dodged in and out, making quick stops here and there, almost killing many many people. I clenched up in anxety. I felt a tension in my chest and I wanted to scream at him, to call him a 'stupid inconsiderate fucker', but I was being enveloped in the visual nature of this lsd.
The 2d became 3d. It became the seat in front of me and the back of my eyelids. I felt trapped in this car. No... I felt trapped. focus. I needed to piss again...
After telling the driver that I know when I have to fucking piss and I will NOT wait until we get back, and that if he didn't 'fucking pull over right now I am going to piss in your car and be sure to splash on your retarded ass'. So we pulled over. I ran to the comfort and solace of a nearby tree. I once again tried to relieve myself... but no urine came out.
I needed release, I needed something to be let loose... I was holding something inside and it was very deep.
"come out then, you stubborn bastard"
Finally we made it back home as I launched myself out of the car. FINALLY THE CAR RIDE OF DEATH IS OVER. "You are the worst driver I've ever driven with. You're a danger to everyone on the rode" I spoke this to him, unafraid of his nerdy "silicon valley wanna be" ass as I walked into the house. I honestly wanted him to try and fight me right now... I couldn't feel a thing I was frying so hard.
Control.
I opened the door, there was now a party in this house. So many people I didn't know, so many people I did... too many hellos, too many introductions...
Loss of control.
I unrolled my sleeping bag, took off my glasses, pulled down my hoodie and curled up into the couch. I could not get deep enough into the padded comfort of it... I could not escape this tension and anxiety.
"But why escape? Stop with the dualism and get your whiney ass up, no one is going to help you if you aren't willing to help yourself". Fucker. I sat up and opened my eyes into the spirling,swirling, dominating world of acid. Someone came into the room who had only done acid once before... he was looking at me... almost crying for help. This acid was so strong... I felt his pain, but asked him to leave the room.
"can you leave me alone for a minute or two please?"
a strange pause. a change in his face.
"yeah... umm... sure I guess"
a pause. "John staring at people is not polite"
"I know, but I can't help it, you're all moving and buggy and..." He laughed.
"John please leave me alone for a moment, I can't help you right now".
We all need our time, we all need our internal reflective moments of solitude. Fuck what was the matter with me tonight? Where had I gone wrong in this trip? What is the catalyst of this overwhelmingly negative-intense feeling? Shit, I need to get my head straight.
There was a nurse. There was a witch. There was an ogre. It was a halloween party. Who was I dressed up as tonight? I looked down upon myself to see that I was definatly a character of some sort... but who? no... what was I? What had I become? It took me a second to shake this ravinous thought... ME. Who else am I going to be if not me? yes it's a simple idea stretched into insane altitudes. Dressing up, playing a role... but it wasn't about that, it was about being true to myself.
My newest recurring trip - being true to myself.
I went into my friend James bedroom and he was acting the fool, frying as hard as I was. People were laughing at him... "What is so funny, I don't understand"
James had no pants on. "Why am I not allowed to NOT wear my pants in my own room?"
The man has a point. master of his domain. If you don't like it, fuck off. I realized that I had been dragging my sleeping bag with me, it seems, just in case I needed to curl up again. I didn't want to escape now that I was finally out of that god damn car-ride, I wanted to fry.
a strange conversation between two people on acid:
Pyro: Man I love my sleeping bag, for all of it's many uses. I would sell it for 2 grand thoug.
Sloth (Pyro's good friend): I'll give you 40 bucks for it.
Pyro: You stingy fucker. You think I'd sell this wonderful sleeping bag for 40 bucks? You must be all fucked up
Sloth: yeah, I'm fucked up... but 40 bucks isn't unreasonable, as I'm sure 2 grand isn't unreasonable to you.
Pyro: But the key in the advertisment is that I'm trying to find someone who thinks on the same wavelength as me and thinks that this sleeping bag is worth 2 grand.
Sloth: Nevermind it all ,I like my sleeping bag, it's worth 2 grand.
Pyro: Man, my sleeping bag is WAY better than yours. Yours is all limp and thin.
Sloth: Hey no it's not! Don't be mean to my sleeping bag.
Pyro: Look, until you're able to come to the realization that your sleeping bag is used and slutty, you will not be able to move on in your life.
Sloth: Hey don't be profound with me! I'm frying too hard for that kind of shit.
Pyro: Get on with you life Sloth! The sleeping bag is holding you back!!! Look at mine, it's all fluffy and warm and soft and...
Sloth: STOP!!! NOOOO! I LOVE MY SLEEPING BAG.
*btw, sloth is still in his underware with his shirt and jacket on this entire time with some sober people standing around watching us like we're seriously arguing about sleeping bags*
Pyro: Fuck you then man, be content with your limp unpadded bag.
*The sober people standing around are staring at us like "what... the ... fuck"*
I started to leave the room, my sleeping bag now all rolled up and in hand... I paused and said "oh yeah, one more thing" and I took off my glasses/thew my rolled up sleeping bag at james/and charged at him like a flying squirl.
*I get james into a headlock*
Pyro: Change mother fucker!! CHANGE!! REFUSE TO BE CONTENT OR I'M NOT LETTING GO!!!
Sloth: NEVER!!!!!!!! *choke* YOU WON'T MAKE ME CARE!!!!
Pyro: But your sleeping bag is dead! It's DEAD! YOU BLIND FOOL YOUR SLEEPING BAG IS DEAD!!!
Sloth: NEVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT IS NOT DEAD, YOU BASTARD.
At this point james and I break down into uncontrollable fits of laughter at the ridiclious situation and our joke.
Pyro: "Get your pants on there's company outside"
Sloth: Yeah you're right... I'll be out in a minute.
I went back out into the part in the front rooms and decided I wanted to smoke some weed. I walked out into the backyard and did not see anyone out at the table smoking, so I took a short walk around the backyard, breathing in the fresh OPEN air. I reflected back on the last three hours... what had gone so horribly wrong? I was so twisted up that I wanted to IV some valium, and would have if I had any. I walked back inside and as I closed the door, it opened again and my friend Chris came inside asking me if I wanted to smoke. I found it so bizzar, considering that he wasn't out there when I was just out there, that initially I said 'umm... no'.. and he said louder "DO YOU WANT TO SMOKE WEED WITH US?" And I said "I understood you!!! I just don't want to right now" and he says "Ok, just checking to see if you understood"... two seconds later I realized that I did want to smoke, and that that was the initial reason for me going outside in the first place. I went outside, this time I was aware of four of five people sitting around the table smoking weed... they had been there whenI went outside the first time, but I was unaware of them.
We smoked.
I danced a little bit, tried to become closer to the acid (to myself) to find out what had gone wrong. We talked later in the evening, deep talk about acid and letting things be.
Finally we went to sleep after about 15 hours of frying. That is, after taking some sleeping pills and doing some wine drinking and weed smoking. The weed brought the visuals back right before I went to sleep and the oddest thing happened.
I saw my visual field close down like when you turn off an old TV. Where the screen become just a wide slim opening of color, and then eventually becomes a circle in the middle of the TV, all around it is black and turned off... all around the circle of color.
Pyro - Tim
