yardbirdrc
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2011
- Messages
- 160
Date: May 16, 2015
Time: 9:00PM - 4:00AM
Drug: MDA (Methylenedioxyamphetamine) and MDMA (Methylenedioxymethamphetamine)
Dose: 50mg MDA and 170mg MDMA
Cinco de Kyle comes but once a year. The setting: some of the first viable spring days in Pittsburgh's short window of bearable weather. A house full of friends both old and new. MDMA of course seemed appropriate for the occasion. We'd had many amazing experiences with this drug since we acquired a sizeable quantity of authentic greyish moonrocks about two years prior. When I had fallen on brief but difficult financial times I had sold a few grams of my supply, and now as time has passed my vial and been completely exhausted. Kyle on the other hand still had a nice chunk of it weighing in at around 2.5 grams. This was not the first time Kyle had supplied me (and Sam) with MDMA gratis, and though sharing is second nature in our household I still felt the need to contribute to the evening in some way.
What I did have was a gram of sparkling white MDA. The marquis practically exploded into a black mushroom cloud when it hit the powder. We had never cracked open the vial - mostly because I was intimidated by MDA's reputation as being more mentally involved and generally "harder" than MDMA. This would be my first experience with this drug, which had been on my "lifer" list for a long time. After doing a little reading I decided that an MDA / MDMA combo might suit the evening nicely, and could be an easy introduction into MDA. Hopefully the grace and love of MDMA would polish the rough edges of the MDA and instill the confidence needed to deal with anything the MDA was ready to throw at us.
Early in the day we moved the requisite vials from the safe-house and made a buffet on my desk of the evening's enjoyments. A glass surface, a straw, a gem-star razor, a milligram scale. A small container of blank capsules, a poking stick, a pocket knife, a wooden ciagrette box displaying a pack of 72 golds, a handful of lighters from all walks of life. Four pint jars containing four potent strains of washington state's finest four-star, our trusty house waterpipe "Cujo". A vial of MDA crystals, a sizeable moonrock and a dropper bottle full of etizolam suspended in propylene glycol.
Kyle and I gazed momentarily at our accomplishments before preparing for the evening's revelry. I opted for my usual 130mg oral dose of MDMA to start, as well as one for Sam. Kyle opted for a 60/60 blend. Some of my coworkers would be attending the party so I wanted to leave the MDA for later in the evening.
"You know we're going to have to keep all of this hidden once people actually get here, right?" Kyle remarked as he poured a pile of white MDA on top of our slightly grey-ish MDMA until the scale hit 0.120. He then skillfully used the poking stick to coerce the pile into a waiting capsule held upright by the foam hole on the scale intended to hold the calibration weights.
"Yeah..."
I disassembled our masterpiece into the drawers of the desk. We took the capsules downstairs to drop our doses and start a stopwatch. By this point only two or three people had assembled for the party. I retreated to the living room to scroll through my phone, remotely queueing up music on the media server. By the time more people arrived I was still feeling baseline at T+0:35. As more people filtered in I began to gently socialize and smoke cigarettes on the patio. After another half hour of this I was beginning to feel mildly stimulated.
Sam arrived from upstairs, fully rolling and she promptly draped herself all over me. I was happy to feel her touch, but was not yet where she was. I could see the smile seared onto her face, and the flowers endlessly blooming and dying in her full-moon pupils. As I rose from my position seated on the stairs, I began to feel the full rising action. Five minutes later I was stropped dead in my tracks as it struck me. Ah. From "nah" to "yah". I went to find water.
The next hour or so (taking my time estimations with a grain of salt) were full blown MDMA magnificence. There were several unknown faces at the party, and I made my way around the horn learning about who they were. One new guest with a thick Appalachian accent was intent on playing beer pong for money, as he had been suggesting repeatedly since he'd walked in the door. We set up the table for him, though we declined to gamble. Kyle and I took great pleasure in completey destroying his team, nystagmus and everything. I turned and left for a cigarette.
"Hey wait, you won, you're still on the table! Want to play for money?"
I shut the door to the patio and lit a cigarette. The MDMA was lovely as always, but I decided I needed to re-up soon. I conferred with Kyle about how he was finding the MDA, and thumbs were up all over. I decided to rack up a 20mg line of it for each of us. ffffFFFFFT. She stings a bit more than her sister.
More mingling, more love, MDMA still running the show. 15 minutes later I begin to feel a bit more stimulated in the classical sense. I've never taken any of the true amphetamines, but the dopamine edge was reminiscent of cocaine. I decided to re-up another 15mg of MDA shortly thereafter. As the night went on and people began to drift out of the party, Kyle and I would occasionally sneak into my room to do more lines. 20mg MDMA, another 20mg MDMA, and then a final 15mg MDA for myself bringing my total to roughly 50mg/170mg.
As we emerged from these last lines the party was a much different setting, with the remaining fifteen-or-so guests seated around our cozy upstairs parlor. A long-bearded man was rolling blunts. I sat and felt tapped into it all. As the MDA began to enter the experience I noticed that some very exciting things began to happen in my field of vision. Mild patterns were forming on blank white walls. My Grateful Dead tapestry rippled suggestively. At one point I caught myself staring at Paige, and then apologized while explaining that her face was morphing. Her nose would move to a different area, her ears would become detached and reposition themselves, almost like a Mr. Potato head. Mighty morphin' power Paige. Five or ten minutes elapsed before I realized that the girl sitting next to me was in fact *not* wearing a Davie Crockett style coon-skin hat. That was just how her hair was styled. People were making collaborative art on a large pad of paper. The box of markers and pencils soon became a box of wriggling worms. I picked one up and it wriggled in my hands. Skin color became sharply defined. The general visual sparkle combined with the MDMA nystagmus to create a gorgeous wonderland of ever shifting colors and loosely defined physical properties. I felt the dopamine push become more pronounced. I was fully loving all of this. As the night wore on I was blown away, and hungry to go deeper. This is an excellent combination but MDA could very well be a heavy hitter in its own right. I wished that I could rewind the night and drop 80mg MDA solo. Hell, I'd even try this one during the daytime in the great outdoors. I'd never do that with MDMA.
Another thing about MDA became apparent - the longer duration. It was now 3 in the morning. Everybody had left other than myself, Sam, Kyle, Ruari and JF who was then too drunk to drive. I spent much of the next hour gushing about the drug, and exploring tangential conversations before Kyle and Ruari eventually left and JF began to collect himself for driving. It felt like almost instantaneously this party had started and ended, and now only Sam and I remained in the parlor. It was the opposite of time dilation.
Sam splayed herself out on the slouch couch and began exploring closed-eye visuals with elaborate landscapes and cartoon scenes. I sat in silence and listened to her occasional "wow" as I contemplated what to do at 4AM with a boat-load of energy and no interest in doing anything other than thinking and observing. My beat-to-hell copy of Mothership Connection spun lazily on the creaky console turntable, whispering funky prayers to the neon polyester heavens through severe pops and clicks. The local used record store often would leave large boxes of records in the stairway, which could be taken free of charge on the condition that they were taken without being opened. I had gotten my copy of Mothership Connection this way: plucked from an ocean of unplayable and/or unlistenable throw-aways. I contemplated the journey that it made onto my shelf and the sources of the minute imperfections that were causing the pops and clicks. I tried to concoct every scene in the collective human experience where that same record had been integral. Maybe someone had made love while listening to it - maybe several people had. Maybe someone had pawned it to pay for some necessity, or had died in a car accident with it in the trunk, or had enjoyed some ice cream while listening to it. While I had been very talkative throughout the night, talking seemed to detract from the experience at this point. I was letting the world flow through me undisturbed - a feeling that exposed the pure inadequacy of language.
I eyed the bottle of etizolam on the coffee table. It's 4 in the morning. We have to get up and go on a hike the next day around 1PM. I sincerely do not want to end the experience, but I begrudgingly lick six drops off my palm and light a cigarette. Within 5 minutes I feel the drops, and I notice that my wiggles have become softer and blurrier. I lick 4 more drops. Amnesia beings to set in.
We wake up the next morning and immediately set about having sex. I found the culmination of this act to be physically impossible even though the drug had long-since worn off. Strange. We ate some 5-HTP and ALA and went back to sleep. I felt quite positive throughout the next day instead of the muted sort of depression that follows most MDMA experiences. It is now three days later and I've yet to notice a negative impact on mood. I hope to revisit this one soon, it's excellent.
Time: 9:00PM - 4:00AM
Drug: MDA (Methylenedioxyamphetamine) and MDMA (Methylenedioxymethamphetamine)
Dose: 50mg MDA and 170mg MDMA
Cinco de Kyle comes but once a year. The setting: some of the first viable spring days in Pittsburgh's short window of bearable weather. A house full of friends both old and new. MDMA of course seemed appropriate for the occasion. We'd had many amazing experiences with this drug since we acquired a sizeable quantity of authentic greyish moonrocks about two years prior. When I had fallen on brief but difficult financial times I had sold a few grams of my supply, and now as time has passed my vial and been completely exhausted. Kyle on the other hand still had a nice chunk of it weighing in at around 2.5 grams. This was not the first time Kyle had supplied me (and Sam) with MDMA gratis, and though sharing is second nature in our household I still felt the need to contribute to the evening in some way.
What I did have was a gram of sparkling white MDA. The marquis practically exploded into a black mushroom cloud when it hit the powder. We had never cracked open the vial - mostly because I was intimidated by MDA's reputation as being more mentally involved and generally "harder" than MDMA. This would be my first experience with this drug, which had been on my "lifer" list for a long time. After doing a little reading I decided that an MDA / MDMA combo might suit the evening nicely, and could be an easy introduction into MDA. Hopefully the grace and love of MDMA would polish the rough edges of the MDA and instill the confidence needed to deal with anything the MDA was ready to throw at us.
Early in the day we moved the requisite vials from the safe-house and made a buffet on my desk of the evening's enjoyments. A glass surface, a straw, a gem-star razor, a milligram scale. A small container of blank capsules, a poking stick, a pocket knife, a wooden ciagrette box displaying a pack of 72 golds, a handful of lighters from all walks of life. Four pint jars containing four potent strains of washington state's finest four-star, our trusty house waterpipe "Cujo". A vial of MDA crystals, a sizeable moonrock and a dropper bottle full of etizolam suspended in propylene glycol.
Kyle and I gazed momentarily at our accomplishments before preparing for the evening's revelry. I opted for my usual 130mg oral dose of MDMA to start, as well as one for Sam. Kyle opted for a 60/60 blend. Some of my coworkers would be attending the party so I wanted to leave the MDA for later in the evening.
"You know we're going to have to keep all of this hidden once people actually get here, right?" Kyle remarked as he poured a pile of white MDA on top of our slightly grey-ish MDMA until the scale hit 0.120. He then skillfully used the poking stick to coerce the pile into a waiting capsule held upright by the foam hole on the scale intended to hold the calibration weights.
"Yeah..."
I disassembled our masterpiece into the drawers of the desk. We took the capsules downstairs to drop our doses and start a stopwatch. By this point only two or three people had assembled for the party. I retreated to the living room to scroll through my phone, remotely queueing up music on the media server. By the time more people arrived I was still feeling baseline at T+0:35. As more people filtered in I began to gently socialize and smoke cigarettes on the patio. After another half hour of this I was beginning to feel mildly stimulated.
Sam arrived from upstairs, fully rolling and she promptly draped herself all over me. I was happy to feel her touch, but was not yet where she was. I could see the smile seared onto her face, and the flowers endlessly blooming and dying in her full-moon pupils. As I rose from my position seated on the stairs, I began to feel the full rising action. Five minutes later I was stropped dead in my tracks as it struck me. Ah. From "nah" to "yah". I went to find water.
The next hour or so (taking my time estimations with a grain of salt) were full blown MDMA magnificence. There were several unknown faces at the party, and I made my way around the horn learning about who they were. One new guest with a thick Appalachian accent was intent on playing beer pong for money, as he had been suggesting repeatedly since he'd walked in the door. We set up the table for him, though we declined to gamble. Kyle and I took great pleasure in completey destroying his team, nystagmus and everything. I turned and left for a cigarette.
"Hey wait, you won, you're still on the table! Want to play for money?"
I shut the door to the patio and lit a cigarette. The MDMA was lovely as always, but I decided I needed to re-up soon. I conferred with Kyle about how he was finding the MDA, and thumbs were up all over. I decided to rack up a 20mg line of it for each of us. ffffFFFFFT. She stings a bit more than her sister.
More mingling, more love, MDMA still running the show. 15 minutes later I begin to feel a bit more stimulated in the classical sense. I've never taken any of the true amphetamines, but the dopamine edge was reminiscent of cocaine. I decided to re-up another 15mg of MDA shortly thereafter. As the night went on and people began to drift out of the party, Kyle and I would occasionally sneak into my room to do more lines. 20mg MDMA, another 20mg MDMA, and then a final 15mg MDA for myself bringing my total to roughly 50mg/170mg.
As we emerged from these last lines the party was a much different setting, with the remaining fifteen-or-so guests seated around our cozy upstairs parlor. A long-bearded man was rolling blunts. I sat and felt tapped into it all. As the MDA began to enter the experience I noticed that some very exciting things began to happen in my field of vision. Mild patterns were forming on blank white walls. My Grateful Dead tapestry rippled suggestively. At one point I caught myself staring at Paige, and then apologized while explaining that her face was morphing. Her nose would move to a different area, her ears would become detached and reposition themselves, almost like a Mr. Potato head. Mighty morphin' power Paige. Five or ten minutes elapsed before I realized that the girl sitting next to me was in fact *not* wearing a Davie Crockett style coon-skin hat. That was just how her hair was styled. People were making collaborative art on a large pad of paper. The box of markers and pencils soon became a box of wriggling worms. I picked one up and it wriggled in my hands. Skin color became sharply defined. The general visual sparkle combined with the MDMA nystagmus to create a gorgeous wonderland of ever shifting colors and loosely defined physical properties. I felt the dopamine push become more pronounced. I was fully loving all of this. As the night wore on I was blown away, and hungry to go deeper. This is an excellent combination but MDA could very well be a heavy hitter in its own right. I wished that I could rewind the night and drop 80mg MDA solo. Hell, I'd even try this one during the daytime in the great outdoors. I'd never do that with MDMA.
Another thing about MDA became apparent - the longer duration. It was now 3 in the morning. Everybody had left other than myself, Sam, Kyle, Ruari and JF who was then too drunk to drive. I spent much of the next hour gushing about the drug, and exploring tangential conversations before Kyle and Ruari eventually left and JF began to collect himself for driving. It felt like almost instantaneously this party had started and ended, and now only Sam and I remained in the parlor. It was the opposite of time dilation.
Sam splayed herself out on the slouch couch and began exploring closed-eye visuals with elaborate landscapes and cartoon scenes. I sat in silence and listened to her occasional "wow" as I contemplated what to do at 4AM with a boat-load of energy and no interest in doing anything other than thinking and observing. My beat-to-hell copy of Mothership Connection spun lazily on the creaky console turntable, whispering funky prayers to the neon polyester heavens through severe pops and clicks. The local used record store often would leave large boxes of records in the stairway, which could be taken free of charge on the condition that they were taken without being opened. I had gotten my copy of Mothership Connection this way: plucked from an ocean of unplayable and/or unlistenable throw-aways. I contemplated the journey that it made onto my shelf and the sources of the minute imperfections that were causing the pops and clicks. I tried to concoct every scene in the collective human experience where that same record had been integral. Maybe someone had made love while listening to it - maybe several people had. Maybe someone had pawned it to pay for some necessity, or had died in a car accident with it in the trunk, or had enjoyed some ice cream while listening to it. While I had been very talkative throughout the night, talking seemed to detract from the experience at this point. I was letting the world flow through me undisturbed - a feeling that exposed the pure inadequacy of language.
I eyed the bottle of etizolam on the coffee table. It's 4 in the morning. We have to get up and go on a hike the next day around 1PM. I sincerely do not want to end the experience, but I begrudgingly lick six drops off my palm and light a cigarette. Within 5 minutes I feel the drops, and I notice that my wiggles have become softer and blurrier. I lick 4 more drops. Amnesia beings to set in.
We wake up the next morning and immediately set about having sex. I found the culmination of this act to be physically impossible even though the drug had long-since worn off. Strange. We ate some 5-HTP and ALA and went back to sleep. I felt quite positive throughout the next day instead of the muted sort of depression that follows most MDMA experiences. It is now three days later and I've yet to notice a negative impact on mood. I hope to revisit this one soon, it's excellent.
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