Jamshyd
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2003
- Messages
- 15,492
I originally intended to edit these reports to make them more aesthetically pleasing, but decided not to change them at all. One thing to keep in mind while reading is that I have a considerable tolerance towards dissociatives. My doses are WAY HIGHER than what most people need.
September 14th, 2009
Setting: Workplace (security guard, alone in office, idle most of the time, random people come and go out the door)
Set: Made content by gabapentin (see below); somewhat reluctant, but very excited. Body tired from heavy drinking and xanaxing last night.
Other substances in system: Gabapentin, Caffeine, Nictotine, and perhaps Acetaldehyde (had a few drinks several hours ago).
Alright, two things before you attack. Drugs at work? Tsk tsk tsk.
A relative of Angel Dust at work? Oh my.
But you know, this sort of thing is not new to me. In fact, I think I am always intoxicated one way or another at work. For example, in Japan, I mentored a girl-student in the arcane tongue maneuvers that magically turn an L into an R, and then back. I was on a constant low dose of Ketamine at the time. Every hour or so (the sessions took up to three hours), I’d excuse myself to the toilet and have a little whiff of my beloved. And what of the student, oblivious to her beketted mentor? She got third place in the national English Speech contest – third best in all of Japan.
Ah. But this is not a report about Ketamine. This is a report on 3-MeO-PCP, the newest child of the noble and cherished cyclohexamines family, which are to the general public known (sadly) only for their vague and shady business with angry black criminals riding tranquilized horses… or something to that effect.
As the reader may have realized already, the combination of a micro-dose of 3-MeO, on top of the Nicotine (patch) and Gabapentin (the latter two synergistic already), has brought out the decrepit little writer in me, who generally confines himself in a small closet imagining words that never reach the paper.
The 3-MeO arrived in a sealed bag – a rare gift from a generous friend that shall never be forgotten. Sometime in the middle of my shift, the building went quiet (all regular workers were done), and so I took a washroom break. With me, I brought Oscar Wilde’s Complete Fairy Tales and a pair of scissors. Of course, said sealed bag was concealed within said book, which by the way has sacred status in my heart and mind along with Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.
In the silence of the exclusive Human Resources washroom (which, at the time, was practically mine as only I could access it), I used the sanitizer to wipe my hands and the scissors, and carefully cut the bag’s top with them, making sure all the powder settled at the bottom. I then scraped a miniscule amount of powder from the edge of the bag on the scissor’s blade. A few micrograms. I put it under my nose and sniffed. The time was 7:30 sharp. I barely felt anything, and waited five or so minutes to watch out for any negative reactions that may happen. None did. And so my curiosity got the better of me and I scraped just a tiny bit more – again, micrograms, and sniffed it. This time, I could discern a certain pharmaceutical tinge in my nose.
The wise reader will probably criticize me for trying a novel and simply unknown compound while already under the influence of two (or three) psychoactives. I actually agree that this is foolish. But the kind reader will note that my “baseline” is actually a combination of small doses of Nicotine and large doses of Gabapentin. The latter stabilizes my mood; the former makes me active and cheerful when combined with the latter. I’ve been taking Neurontin for years and the nicotine on and off. I have several times combined several different doses of ketamine – oh my beloved, how I miss you – with said combination and is seems that all three molecules get along well with each other. Never was there a problem.
But perhaps the most pertinent point is that this trial was not intended for exploring the activity of our interesting new creation, but rather simply to test for allergic or other such reactions. Seeing that I had none, next time a mg scale will be used to provide the right dose for a full experience.
I lie. My curiosity got the best of me and, around 8:30pm, after inadvertently scaring away a scavenging raccoon, I made it part of my patrol duty to go to the CEO’s office (now empty) and take a little more. Just a little taste, demoniacally performing perverse acts that no one will ever know of. But no. The office was very unwelcoming. And so, I went to the same washroom, and took another sniff. This time, it actually burnt. Although I have no way of telling how much I took, I am pretty sure it is no more than 2mg from the descriptions I heard. My little sniffs were scrapings off the edges of the bag. There is a feeling of certain heaviness, yet the mind is lucid in an intriguing manner. There are, to my surprise, some visual disturbances – something I had seemed immune to with dissociatives and psychedelics. Tracers and trailers… time has slowed down, Saturn taking a nap, I suppose? At this point, if the good doctor were to rate the experience – bless his heart, disdainful of dissociatives as it is – he would probably rate it as a +2. Now, around 9:00pm, it has become undeniable that something new (yet so familiar all at once) is caressing my brain.
Lips and tongue are slightly numb. Eyes heavy. Visual “frame-rate” dropping a la absinthe – absinthe! – That is only what I can only compare it with… a heaviness that hides under it a delightful glow of contentment. I am tempted to compare to Opiates… but not yet. I am also not yet tempted to compare to its cousins, Angeldustine and my beloved Ketamine. And yet, it still carries this “scent” of dissociative anesthetics. This sterilizing vibration, this neutralization of the senses… this…this…. Taste of Nothing. Oh, Nothing.
“Yes you can give me that temporary badge. Thanks for returning it sir, here’s your driver’s license. Have a good one eh?”
“Yah man, you too! Try not to forget my badge next time, haha….”
Open badge registry. Type employee’s name, the time – oh, time! – and ID number. Fill in the daily report sheet. Job well done, dissociatives not interfering, all is well.
And! What’s this? A pang of lust. Lust! On dissociatives? That is a first. This one guy just passed through the door, and I just picked up that smell of raw male sexuality. I want him so bad. But I feel a bit numb. This is very strange.
[added after brown paragraphs]
I remember, when once or twice (or thirty times) playing with my beloved K, I had managed to break out of the edge of pleroma, and tasted sweet sweet nothing. I have a feeling that our new cyclohexamine may actually grant said quality. For even though it is not as physically anaesthetic as its cousins, it certainly inherits these sensory-neutralizing aspects of its forefathers.
I apologize for the pleonasm. But this thing wants me to write. And write I shall.
I remember, once, after taking an unknown dose of a green sludge purported to be Angel Dust (no, no, really. It wasn’t as bad as this text makes it look!). I remember… New Orleans. I remember Hurricane Rita, the harbinger of Katrina’s wrath, only a few weeks later. I had taken this purported PCP, and felt happy and numb and ambitious all at once. Ambitious. Very ambitious. Stupidly so. But such stupidity seems to be absent from what I am feeling now.
Flightly, ethereal, feminine… I’m trying to describe what this Angel Child feels like. I am unable to gauge how intoxicated I am. My spelling is certainly shot, and it’s getting worse by the moment. I wonder how high this goes? ….
Lazy and hazy and… what was the third word that ended with “azy” that I meant to write? I do not remember. It’s ok. And that word is definitely not “crazy”… yet.
A little walk to get some chips to munch on gave some negative feedback. There is definitely some muscle tension – though I do admit that I need more Magnesium in my diet – and a worrying sensation in the upper left thorax. Yes, that place, where people hope drugs never go. I do hope that this will not be a trend.
[added later]
[added after the bottom paragraphs were written]
By 10:30, the daze and the haze and the laze are wearing off. Visual frame-rate back to normal. Saturn is back at work. All is well. Duration is comparable to Ket.
Why did I write this, then? I do not know. I am feeling pretty damn good at the moment. I feel very expressive. Did such a tiny dose – a tiny clump of dust – impart some kind of angaelic inspiration? I do not know. But the 3-MeO has certainly made itself present. For not only do I feel positively energized, but I also feel a tingle in my lips, and can even pick up a certain “vibration” that is common to all Dissociative Anaesthetics… like picking up the faint scent of a loved one in wind blowing from the direction of a certain perfumed being.
I am listening to DJ Cheb I Sabbah’s Sri Durga, a wonderful album that I listen to regularly when on dissociatives. “Radhe Krishna” sounds as divine as ever.
Seeing that this is an introduction to a series of trials, allow me now to shed light on my life situation. My life is basically governed by the fact that my relationship with my parents is a time-bomb. I like men, they don’t. And so, hoping not to break their hearts (and lose my only support currently), I decided to simply pretend that I am very sexually-conservative and picky about girls. One day, in the future though, this conservatism will become obviously ridiculous to them, and questions may be asked. I do not want to know what happens that day. I love my parents infinitely, but I know that they will hate me once the truth settles.
I am in a stressful time at the moment. I work four days a week including weekends, and go to college for the 5 remaining days. I am hoping to finally become independent, and then, perhaps, be able to support my aging parents like they supported me. I have no social life to speak of… my only friend in this wretched little town is as busy as I, and my other friends all dispersed in the cruel vastness of Canada.
September 16th 2009
Setting: My bed, my room. Twilight.
Set: Rather indifferent. Didn’t take a 2nd dose of gabapentin (anticipating this trial) and therefore mood a bit fragile.
Other substances: Nicotine (patch), and maybe Caffeine. Negligible gabapentin.
7:45: 12 (+/-3) mg taken nasally.
Not feeling as expressive as last time. Certain numbing “zing” all round, not as strong as pcp or k though (but still dissociative signature). Delayed effect is rather worrying, especially for nasal. Head (scalp) feels funny – as if I’m wearing my hair.
General randy feeling, see no reason not to indulge. Went to close shutter lest giddy college students decide to play peeping Jon (or whatever). I swear I just saw a meteor. No, not a visual, I mean really.
8:10 still not much mentally. Some lack of coordination. General weirdness. Again, being horny and numb is rather strange. Physical oxymoron.
8:30 at this point I can only describe it as a “dissociative stimulant”.
8:40 Orgasm possible, but not spectacular. Measured out 10mg (+/-3) and snorted. More burning. Coughing, leading to nausea. Ok, rest for a bit to let the nausea settle.
At this point I think this drug might find some success in S&M circles due to its oxymoronic numbing erosis.
Random packets of heat around my body. Acutely aware of bad breath (dental hygiene not at its best these days). Train sound makes me contemplate going trainspotting. Not sure if it’s worth all the hassle.
Listening to Slavic folk music. Interesting dissonance. Not too interesting though.
Correction: This is good for S&M Porn acting, not actual intimate algolagnia. It certainly is a dissociative… more of a “disinterestant” if I may... Everything happens and that’s fine and dandy and no one cares. Complete emotional flatness. Unable to appreciate music anymore. This is definitely more cold metallic PCP than hot aetheric Ketamine. It is black sharp, not white soft (again, respectively). Music died. Or something. Don’t care. Sitting and contemplating…
9:00 Still pretty square. Contemplating a small redose and a trainspotting trip.
9:03 Sniffed 5mg more. Went to pee. No body-distortions in the mirror. Slight discoordination. Again, acute awareness of foul body odour. What’s up with that? Or is it the S&M thing?
Madonna’s new song stuck in my head, listened to it to get it out. How flat.
This is actually very stimulating, very. Manically so. But as there isn’t anything to get excited about, the stimulation is sort of pointless.
I am reminded of cold, dry nights in Tokyo, challenging the cold with small sniffs of K instead of turning on the heat. Quite the experience. But this is much less interesting. I think it is making itself less interesting than it really is.
9:10 another 5mg. Brushed teeth in attempt to exhume this undead halitosis. Lots of blood spitted out. Note to self: get teeth checked (this has nothing to do with the drugs effects – I have been neglecting my teeth lately).
The word “dromedary” suddenly comes to mind for some unknown reason. What’s a Dromedary? Oh? A camel. I see. Used perfumes to get over this olfactory distaste (pardon the pun). Decided will go trainspotting after all. A bit worried about running into roommates – not too worried though, they are easily dealt with.
The Trainspotting idea was probably the most brilliant I had ever come up with. I walked to the train tracks with the initial disinterested mindset that had been there since the beginning. Sometime around 10 o’clock, a warm undertow (so to speak) was felt. I went with it, and I experienced myself very “open” and lucid and content.
The train tracks run perpendicularly to 2nd st. and 3rd st. in my city. I lived on 3rd st. And so, I saw myself trying to find a point on the train tracks halfway between 2nd and 3rd, and I was surprised to see that this whole stretch of train track was incredibly human-free, incredibly peaceful. (I had only very recently moved to this area of town). I sat on the cold hard steel and made myself comfortable, somehow. There, I simply sat, and contemplated as total disinterest transmuted into absolute interest. I do not know which of the three factors contributed to this state of mind. Is it me? Is it the drug? (or its after-effects?) Or is it the train (or anticipation thereof?). The idea was to sit and contemplate until the train arrives at which point I’d stand back and watch it go by. It never did. But I enjoyed very much listening to the whirr of the town from afar.
I was so glad to have found a spot that was so peaceful. I suppose in our North America, the train is so ignored to the point where no one even bothers walking its tracks anymore.
I amused myself with the dreams of the birds. Every now and then, one would twitter or tweet in the bubbly ether of birdland, where nothing but happiness and wind and bread-crumbs and worms exist.
I also watched the stars (with less light-pollution than elsewhere), the constellation of Libra (Correction: Cygnus, actually) clearly visible, and noted two small private jets (the local airport is as nearby as it is useless) actually tailgating each other. I also noted the occasional shadow tumbling itself on one track then again on the other… one from the limited (but still delightful) selection of urban fauna: A skunk (prime suspect), a raccoon, a cat, a rabbit, a rat, a groundhog, (probably not a squirrel).
This went on for about an hour until the chilly hand of autumn tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that the frigid old man – the Canadian Winter – is just on the threshold.
This was a very surprising experience, extremely introspective. If I were to quote the Good Doctor again, I’d say this can truly be called a “window” in the same manner as one describes MDMA, without all the side-effects, and with more focus on the mind than the heart. In a sense, nothing happened, and yet something huge definitely did happen. This state, along with lots of stimulation, lasted with me for a long time that I eventually had to take 3 or 4 shots of tequila (a small dose for my tolerance) to get a few hours of sleep.
I noticed, by the way, that this drug is quite anti-social. Much more so than either PCP, DXM, or Ketamine. I also noticed that, by itself, this drug has no visual effects – these, I presume, were more from synergy with gabapentin.
Retrospective: September 17th 2009 (Written September 21st 2009)
Setting: My apartment; Vietnamese Restaurant; My friend’s apartment
Set: Feeling rather down.
Other Drugs: Gabapentin (later).
I did not know what expect that day. I was feeling rather frazzled for some reason. That reason, as I was to discover the next day, was definitely due to a “comedown” of sorts that this drug produces.
I measured out 24mg (+/-3) and snorted them all at once. This time, it burnt a LOT. I felt it come one, and again went into the disinterested, boring, and almost dysphonic stage. And again, the numb horniness, which was duly rubbed off. This time around, the orgasm was almost not felt. I then pretty much sat and waited until the “disinterestant” phase wore off. So intense was the disinterest that at one point I was begging for it to leave.
About 3 hours later, it was finally easing off, and I was not feeling good at all. My friend Ian called and asked if I wanted to go try that Vietnamese restaurant with his girlfriend. At first I was hesitant – both due to my very anti-social intoxicated state, and because I’m not exactly a fan of southeast-asian food.
I decided to take a small dose of gabapentin (I think 900 or 1200mg), thinking there will be minimal interaction since the 3-MeO was mostly gone. Boy was I wrong.
At this point, around 4 hours after my initial dose, that warm undercurrent started to be felt again, and to my delight, gained some momentum. Around half an hour later, it seemed certain that gabapentin seriously amplifies this drug’s effects AND after-effects (like it does with Ketamine). By the time Ian came to pick me up, I was in the opposite state of what was a few hours ago. Note that both he and his girl-friend are psychology majors.
I did not want to reveal to them that I was trying a brand new drug (Ian has tried many things with me – most notably a couple of EXTREMELY therapeutic trips, one with 2C-D, and another with DPT). I simply mentioned the Gabapentin. I was a bit jittery and my speech slurred (as it always did when I combined gabapentin with K).
I looked in slight disgust at the restaurant’s menu. Lemongrass this, lemongrass that. Gross. I can tell this restaurant was authentic by how icky all the food looked. I decided my safest bet was to order a noodle soup. Big mistake. It came with dodgy looking meatballs and horrific slices of what I was later to find out were pig stomach. The funny thing is that I didn’t realize what I was eating until the girlfriend pointed it out. At that point, I transferred my bowl to her, and she gladly obliged.
The conversation was a smattering of small-talk, ethnolinguistics, and psychoanalysis.
I was excited to share my latest dream (2 weeks ago) with Ian. I rarely dream (or remember my dreams at any rate), so when I do, it is usually grand. And this dream was grand indeed – enough to give any psychoanalyst a boner, in fact.
Check this out, dear reader: I arrive at a new location for my work. There were receptionists at a desk and they seemed to be having a nice time. They spoke what I call mad-hatter English, ie. It was perfectly fine grammatically, but made no sense whatsoever. After talking to them, I turn to find myself handed a huge and archaic-looking video-camera, and was asked to film a woman giving birth. She was on the floor, her features uncertain (a generic birth machine, basically). There were others around also speaking mad-hatter English. I remember being anxious and feeling shameful about what I was doing. At this point, I wake up.
Ian was completely flabbergasted. He said he will think of it and get back to me later. We finished our food over giggles about girlfriend’s parody of a jewish mother’s (hers, I presume) expectations for her daughter’s marriage.
We eventually decided to go to his place. Girlfriend was tired. Went straight to bed. Ian and I sat in a couch and talked about the dream.
I will not go into the particulars of the intense 3-hour discussion we had, but suffice to say that it was life-changing. It was a perfect psychoanalytic session, couch and all – I even had a fiddle object… incidentally, my fortune that I got from a fortune cookie. It said, quite uninventively, “You will Achieve Success”. Behind that was the Chinese word for Milk, which of course I forget. I had, over the session, rolled the strip of paper into a cylinder. I still have that here, and plan on turning it into a pendant somehow to mark just how life-changing this experience was.
The gist of it is as follows. The camera represents the “editor” that is my dominant character. It had manifested itself in the past in several different ways, such as a sentry tower. It is basically constantly editing, constantly defining and refining every thought and name and verb.
My sense of shame at filming a birth expresses my aversion to my own birth and the feeling of being an “intruder” on the world.
While this is simply a dream interpretation, it gave way to a very deep discussion of how these things affect my life. There is a lot of crap to work through.
--------------
Worthy of note is that this stuff is harsh on the nose and caused a bleed the day after the last try. Next time it will be taken rectally or via IM.
September 14th, 2009
Setting: Workplace (security guard, alone in office, idle most of the time, random people come and go out the door)
Set: Made content by gabapentin (see below); somewhat reluctant, but very excited. Body tired from heavy drinking and xanaxing last night.
Other substances in system: Gabapentin, Caffeine, Nictotine, and perhaps Acetaldehyde (had a few drinks several hours ago).
Alright, two things before you attack. Drugs at work? Tsk tsk tsk.
A relative of Angel Dust at work? Oh my.
But you know, this sort of thing is not new to me. In fact, I think I am always intoxicated one way or another at work. For example, in Japan, I mentored a girl-student in the arcane tongue maneuvers that magically turn an L into an R, and then back. I was on a constant low dose of Ketamine at the time. Every hour or so (the sessions took up to three hours), I’d excuse myself to the toilet and have a little whiff of my beloved. And what of the student, oblivious to her beketted mentor? She got third place in the national English Speech contest – third best in all of Japan.
Ah. But this is not a report about Ketamine. This is a report on 3-MeO-PCP, the newest child of the noble and cherished cyclohexamines family, which are to the general public known (sadly) only for their vague and shady business with angry black criminals riding tranquilized horses… or something to that effect.
As the reader may have realized already, the combination of a micro-dose of 3-MeO, on top of the Nicotine (patch) and Gabapentin (the latter two synergistic already), has brought out the decrepit little writer in me, who generally confines himself in a small closet imagining words that never reach the paper.
The 3-MeO arrived in a sealed bag – a rare gift from a generous friend that shall never be forgotten. Sometime in the middle of my shift, the building went quiet (all regular workers were done), and so I took a washroom break. With me, I brought Oscar Wilde’s Complete Fairy Tales and a pair of scissors. Of course, said sealed bag was concealed within said book, which by the way has sacred status in my heart and mind along with Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.
In the silence of the exclusive Human Resources washroom (which, at the time, was practically mine as only I could access it), I used the sanitizer to wipe my hands and the scissors, and carefully cut the bag’s top with them, making sure all the powder settled at the bottom. I then scraped a miniscule amount of powder from the edge of the bag on the scissor’s blade. A few micrograms. I put it under my nose and sniffed. The time was 7:30 sharp. I barely felt anything, and waited five or so minutes to watch out for any negative reactions that may happen. None did. And so my curiosity got the better of me and I scraped just a tiny bit more – again, micrograms, and sniffed it. This time, I could discern a certain pharmaceutical tinge in my nose.
The wise reader will probably criticize me for trying a novel and simply unknown compound while already under the influence of two (or three) psychoactives. I actually agree that this is foolish. But the kind reader will note that my “baseline” is actually a combination of small doses of Nicotine and large doses of Gabapentin. The latter stabilizes my mood; the former makes me active and cheerful when combined with the latter. I’ve been taking Neurontin for years and the nicotine on and off. I have several times combined several different doses of ketamine – oh my beloved, how I miss you – with said combination and is seems that all three molecules get along well with each other. Never was there a problem.
But perhaps the most pertinent point is that this trial was not intended for exploring the activity of our interesting new creation, but rather simply to test for allergic or other such reactions. Seeing that I had none, next time a mg scale will be used to provide the right dose for a full experience.
I lie. My curiosity got the best of me and, around 8:30pm, after inadvertently scaring away a scavenging raccoon, I made it part of my patrol duty to go to the CEO’s office (now empty) and take a little more. Just a little taste, demoniacally performing perverse acts that no one will ever know of. But no. The office was very unwelcoming. And so, I went to the same washroom, and took another sniff. This time, it actually burnt. Although I have no way of telling how much I took, I am pretty sure it is no more than 2mg from the descriptions I heard. My little sniffs were scrapings off the edges of the bag. There is a feeling of certain heaviness, yet the mind is lucid in an intriguing manner. There are, to my surprise, some visual disturbances – something I had seemed immune to with dissociatives and psychedelics. Tracers and trailers… time has slowed down, Saturn taking a nap, I suppose? At this point, if the good doctor were to rate the experience – bless his heart, disdainful of dissociatives as it is – he would probably rate it as a +2. Now, around 9:00pm, it has become undeniable that something new (yet so familiar all at once) is caressing my brain.
Lips and tongue are slightly numb. Eyes heavy. Visual “frame-rate” dropping a la absinthe – absinthe! – That is only what I can only compare it with… a heaviness that hides under it a delightful glow of contentment. I am tempted to compare to Opiates… but not yet. I am also not yet tempted to compare to its cousins, Angeldustine and my beloved Ketamine. And yet, it still carries this “scent” of dissociative anesthetics. This sterilizing vibration, this neutralization of the senses… this…this…. Taste of Nothing. Oh, Nothing.
“Yes you can give me that temporary badge. Thanks for returning it sir, here’s your driver’s license. Have a good one eh?”
“Yah man, you too! Try not to forget my badge next time, haha….”
Open badge registry. Type employee’s name, the time – oh, time! – and ID number. Fill in the daily report sheet. Job well done, dissociatives not interfering, all is well.
And! What’s this? A pang of lust. Lust! On dissociatives? That is a first. This one guy just passed through the door, and I just picked up that smell of raw male sexuality. I want him so bad. But I feel a bit numb. This is very strange.
[added after brown paragraphs]
I remember, when once or twice (or thirty times) playing with my beloved K, I had managed to break out of the edge of pleroma, and tasted sweet sweet nothing. I have a feeling that our new cyclohexamine may actually grant said quality. For even though it is not as physically anaesthetic as its cousins, it certainly inherits these sensory-neutralizing aspects of its forefathers.
I apologize for the pleonasm. But this thing wants me to write. And write I shall.
I remember, once, after taking an unknown dose of a green sludge purported to be Angel Dust (no, no, really. It wasn’t as bad as this text makes it look!). I remember… New Orleans. I remember Hurricane Rita, the harbinger of Katrina’s wrath, only a few weeks later. I had taken this purported PCP, and felt happy and numb and ambitious all at once. Ambitious. Very ambitious. Stupidly so. But such stupidity seems to be absent from what I am feeling now.
Flightly, ethereal, feminine… I’m trying to describe what this Angel Child feels like. I am unable to gauge how intoxicated I am. My spelling is certainly shot, and it’s getting worse by the moment. I wonder how high this goes? ….
Lazy and hazy and… what was the third word that ended with “azy” that I meant to write? I do not remember. It’s ok. And that word is definitely not “crazy”… yet.
A little walk to get some chips to munch on gave some negative feedback. There is definitely some muscle tension – though I do admit that I need more Magnesium in my diet – and a worrying sensation in the upper left thorax. Yes, that place, where people hope drugs never go. I do hope that this will not be a trend.
[added later]
[added after the bottom paragraphs were written]
By 10:30, the daze and the haze and the laze are wearing off. Visual frame-rate back to normal. Saturn is back at work. All is well. Duration is comparable to Ket.
Why did I write this, then? I do not know. I am feeling pretty damn good at the moment. I feel very expressive. Did such a tiny dose – a tiny clump of dust – impart some kind of angaelic inspiration? I do not know. But the 3-MeO has certainly made itself present. For not only do I feel positively energized, but I also feel a tingle in my lips, and can even pick up a certain “vibration” that is common to all Dissociative Anaesthetics… like picking up the faint scent of a loved one in wind blowing from the direction of a certain perfumed being.
I am listening to DJ Cheb I Sabbah’s Sri Durga, a wonderful album that I listen to regularly when on dissociatives. “Radhe Krishna” sounds as divine as ever.
Seeing that this is an introduction to a series of trials, allow me now to shed light on my life situation. My life is basically governed by the fact that my relationship with my parents is a time-bomb. I like men, they don’t. And so, hoping not to break their hearts (and lose my only support currently), I decided to simply pretend that I am very sexually-conservative and picky about girls. One day, in the future though, this conservatism will become obviously ridiculous to them, and questions may be asked. I do not want to know what happens that day. I love my parents infinitely, but I know that they will hate me once the truth settles.
I am in a stressful time at the moment. I work four days a week including weekends, and go to college for the 5 remaining days. I am hoping to finally become independent, and then, perhaps, be able to support my aging parents like they supported me. I have no social life to speak of… my only friend in this wretched little town is as busy as I, and my other friends all dispersed in the cruel vastness of Canada.
September 16th 2009
Setting: My bed, my room. Twilight.
Set: Rather indifferent. Didn’t take a 2nd dose of gabapentin (anticipating this trial) and therefore mood a bit fragile.
Other substances: Nicotine (patch), and maybe Caffeine. Negligible gabapentin.
7:45: 12 (+/-3) mg taken nasally.
Not feeling as expressive as last time. Certain numbing “zing” all round, not as strong as pcp or k though (but still dissociative signature). Delayed effect is rather worrying, especially for nasal. Head (scalp) feels funny – as if I’m wearing my hair.
General randy feeling, see no reason not to indulge. Went to close shutter lest giddy college students decide to play peeping Jon (or whatever). I swear I just saw a meteor. No, not a visual, I mean really.
8:10 still not much mentally. Some lack of coordination. General weirdness. Again, being horny and numb is rather strange. Physical oxymoron.
8:30 at this point I can only describe it as a “dissociative stimulant”.
8:40 Orgasm possible, but not spectacular. Measured out 10mg (+/-3) and snorted. More burning. Coughing, leading to nausea. Ok, rest for a bit to let the nausea settle.
At this point I think this drug might find some success in S&M circles due to its oxymoronic numbing erosis.
Random packets of heat around my body. Acutely aware of bad breath (dental hygiene not at its best these days). Train sound makes me contemplate going trainspotting. Not sure if it’s worth all the hassle.
Listening to Slavic folk music. Interesting dissonance. Not too interesting though.
Correction: This is good for S&M Porn acting, not actual intimate algolagnia. It certainly is a dissociative… more of a “disinterestant” if I may... Everything happens and that’s fine and dandy and no one cares. Complete emotional flatness. Unable to appreciate music anymore. This is definitely more cold metallic PCP than hot aetheric Ketamine. It is black sharp, not white soft (again, respectively). Music died. Or something. Don’t care. Sitting and contemplating…
9:00 Still pretty square. Contemplating a small redose and a trainspotting trip.
9:03 Sniffed 5mg more. Went to pee. No body-distortions in the mirror. Slight discoordination. Again, acute awareness of foul body odour. What’s up with that? Or is it the S&M thing?
Madonna’s new song stuck in my head, listened to it to get it out. How flat.
This is actually very stimulating, very. Manically so. But as there isn’t anything to get excited about, the stimulation is sort of pointless.
I am reminded of cold, dry nights in Tokyo, challenging the cold with small sniffs of K instead of turning on the heat. Quite the experience. But this is much less interesting. I think it is making itself less interesting than it really is.
9:10 another 5mg. Brushed teeth in attempt to exhume this undead halitosis. Lots of blood spitted out. Note to self: get teeth checked (this has nothing to do with the drugs effects – I have been neglecting my teeth lately).
The word “dromedary” suddenly comes to mind for some unknown reason. What’s a Dromedary? Oh? A camel. I see. Used perfumes to get over this olfactory distaste (pardon the pun). Decided will go trainspotting after all. A bit worried about running into roommates – not too worried though, they are easily dealt with.
The Trainspotting idea was probably the most brilliant I had ever come up with. I walked to the train tracks with the initial disinterested mindset that had been there since the beginning. Sometime around 10 o’clock, a warm undertow (so to speak) was felt. I went with it, and I experienced myself very “open” and lucid and content.
The train tracks run perpendicularly to 2nd st. and 3rd st. in my city. I lived on 3rd st. And so, I saw myself trying to find a point on the train tracks halfway between 2nd and 3rd, and I was surprised to see that this whole stretch of train track was incredibly human-free, incredibly peaceful. (I had only very recently moved to this area of town). I sat on the cold hard steel and made myself comfortable, somehow. There, I simply sat, and contemplated as total disinterest transmuted into absolute interest. I do not know which of the three factors contributed to this state of mind. Is it me? Is it the drug? (or its after-effects?) Or is it the train (or anticipation thereof?). The idea was to sit and contemplate until the train arrives at which point I’d stand back and watch it go by. It never did. But I enjoyed very much listening to the whirr of the town from afar.
I was so glad to have found a spot that was so peaceful. I suppose in our North America, the train is so ignored to the point where no one even bothers walking its tracks anymore.
I amused myself with the dreams of the birds. Every now and then, one would twitter or tweet in the bubbly ether of birdland, where nothing but happiness and wind and bread-crumbs and worms exist.
I also watched the stars (with less light-pollution than elsewhere), the constellation of Libra (Correction: Cygnus, actually) clearly visible, and noted two small private jets (the local airport is as nearby as it is useless) actually tailgating each other. I also noted the occasional shadow tumbling itself on one track then again on the other… one from the limited (but still delightful) selection of urban fauna: A skunk (prime suspect), a raccoon, a cat, a rabbit, a rat, a groundhog, (probably not a squirrel).
This went on for about an hour until the chilly hand of autumn tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me that the frigid old man – the Canadian Winter – is just on the threshold.
This was a very surprising experience, extremely introspective. If I were to quote the Good Doctor again, I’d say this can truly be called a “window” in the same manner as one describes MDMA, without all the side-effects, and with more focus on the mind than the heart. In a sense, nothing happened, and yet something huge definitely did happen. This state, along with lots of stimulation, lasted with me for a long time that I eventually had to take 3 or 4 shots of tequila (a small dose for my tolerance) to get a few hours of sleep.
I noticed, by the way, that this drug is quite anti-social. Much more so than either PCP, DXM, or Ketamine. I also noticed that, by itself, this drug has no visual effects – these, I presume, were more from synergy with gabapentin.
Retrospective: September 17th 2009 (Written September 21st 2009)
Setting: My apartment; Vietnamese Restaurant; My friend’s apartment
Set: Feeling rather down.
Other Drugs: Gabapentin (later).
I did not know what expect that day. I was feeling rather frazzled for some reason. That reason, as I was to discover the next day, was definitely due to a “comedown” of sorts that this drug produces.
I measured out 24mg (+/-3) and snorted them all at once. This time, it burnt a LOT. I felt it come one, and again went into the disinterested, boring, and almost dysphonic stage. And again, the numb horniness, which was duly rubbed off. This time around, the orgasm was almost not felt. I then pretty much sat and waited until the “disinterestant” phase wore off. So intense was the disinterest that at one point I was begging for it to leave.
About 3 hours later, it was finally easing off, and I was not feeling good at all. My friend Ian called and asked if I wanted to go try that Vietnamese restaurant with his girlfriend. At first I was hesitant – both due to my very anti-social intoxicated state, and because I’m not exactly a fan of southeast-asian food.
I decided to take a small dose of gabapentin (I think 900 or 1200mg), thinking there will be minimal interaction since the 3-MeO was mostly gone. Boy was I wrong.
At this point, around 4 hours after my initial dose, that warm undercurrent started to be felt again, and to my delight, gained some momentum. Around half an hour later, it seemed certain that gabapentin seriously amplifies this drug’s effects AND after-effects (like it does with Ketamine). By the time Ian came to pick me up, I was in the opposite state of what was a few hours ago. Note that both he and his girl-friend are psychology majors.
I did not want to reveal to them that I was trying a brand new drug (Ian has tried many things with me – most notably a couple of EXTREMELY therapeutic trips, one with 2C-D, and another with DPT). I simply mentioned the Gabapentin. I was a bit jittery and my speech slurred (as it always did when I combined gabapentin with K).
I looked in slight disgust at the restaurant’s menu. Lemongrass this, lemongrass that. Gross. I can tell this restaurant was authentic by how icky all the food looked. I decided my safest bet was to order a noodle soup. Big mistake. It came with dodgy looking meatballs and horrific slices of what I was later to find out were pig stomach. The funny thing is that I didn’t realize what I was eating until the girlfriend pointed it out. At that point, I transferred my bowl to her, and she gladly obliged.
The conversation was a smattering of small-talk, ethnolinguistics, and psychoanalysis.
I was excited to share my latest dream (2 weeks ago) with Ian. I rarely dream (or remember my dreams at any rate), so when I do, it is usually grand. And this dream was grand indeed – enough to give any psychoanalyst a boner, in fact.
Check this out, dear reader: I arrive at a new location for my work. There were receptionists at a desk and they seemed to be having a nice time. They spoke what I call mad-hatter English, ie. It was perfectly fine grammatically, but made no sense whatsoever. After talking to them, I turn to find myself handed a huge and archaic-looking video-camera, and was asked to film a woman giving birth. She was on the floor, her features uncertain (a generic birth machine, basically). There were others around also speaking mad-hatter English. I remember being anxious and feeling shameful about what I was doing. At this point, I wake up.
Ian was completely flabbergasted. He said he will think of it and get back to me later. We finished our food over giggles about girlfriend’s parody of a jewish mother’s (hers, I presume) expectations for her daughter’s marriage.
We eventually decided to go to his place. Girlfriend was tired. Went straight to bed. Ian and I sat in a couch and talked about the dream.
I will not go into the particulars of the intense 3-hour discussion we had, but suffice to say that it was life-changing. It was a perfect psychoanalytic session, couch and all – I even had a fiddle object… incidentally, my fortune that I got from a fortune cookie. It said, quite uninventively, “You will Achieve Success”. Behind that was the Chinese word for Milk, which of course I forget. I had, over the session, rolled the strip of paper into a cylinder. I still have that here, and plan on turning it into a pendant somehow to mark just how life-changing this experience was.
The gist of it is as follows. The camera represents the “editor” that is my dominant character. It had manifested itself in the past in several different ways, such as a sentry tower. It is basically constantly editing, constantly defining and refining every thought and name and verb.
My sense of shame at filming a birth expresses my aversion to my own birth and the feeling of being an “intruder” on the world.
While this is simply a dream interpretation, it gave way to a very deep discussion of how these things affect my life. There is a lot of crap to work through.
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Worthy of note is that this stuff is harsh on the nose and caused a bleed the day after the last try. Next time it will be taken rectally or via IM.
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),they must show their compassion in turn to deal with their own guilt.
