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I'm going to try writing a blog post when I'm in a relatively good mood this time and less prone to rants :D

So it's been ten days since I've touched any kind of opiate whatsoever. Bit longer off heroin. An aMT trip around that time helped me realise what I've been doing to myself and that it really is time to get clean before it's too late to fix things. Honestly, so far it's really been hell. Psychological withdrawals are truly getting to me and I didn't even know it was possible to experience such intense mood swings. I wrote a suicide note earlier this afternoon and two hours later I was feeling pleasant and cheery. It genuinely is impossible to describe the emptiness coming off opiates is making me feel and with every second I just have more respect for anyone who's actually managed to do so.

Anyway, aside from that...I'm moving back to Paris tomorrow for the summer. Definitely looking forward to that since I'll have all my old 'real' friends around, but in the meantime the packing and moving from one country to another on my own isn't helping with stress. But hey, this time tomorrow it'll be done. Just gotta get through the day.

I'm starting an internship at this really big deal publishing company next monday for the month. It's quite literally the opportunity of a lifetime since I'm going to be making a ton of contacts, meeting authors etc., so I really can't mess this up. Hopefully my mood will have stabilised just enough by then to enable me to make something out of myself.

Hm...really nothing interesting going on in my life actually. Just thought I'd take this opportunity to write a slightly nicer blog post than the previous ones have been.

I'd write a blog but it would be boring. I am one of the millions of people on this earth living a monotonous boring life leaving no real input or effect behind me.

Maybe I need to stop/reduce my partying/amphetamine use (they go hand in hand, really). When I'm on them, I feel the happiest I have ever felt, the happiest I could feel. Dancing like crazy for hours, to my favourite songs, with my favourite DJs... I don't think there can be a better feeling. I actually think WOW I feel great, I have an awesome life, I'm super lucky, everything is going perfectly.

But fucckk, I'm always feeling it the next day. And then I get all depressed and like, my life is shit. And I just feel unmotivated and everything. YES I know this is a hangover and it's not new or anything. But it really sucks feeling this way!!!

Like I really don't know what I'd do if I stopped partying. I actually am happy 6/7 days of the week. My Monday-Friday 9-5 job is awesome, I do love it. Then I go out partying one night and have an awesome time then. Then that seventh day (usually the Sunday), I hate life. I'm unhappy and unmotivated and I just hate everything. But like, I can't give up partying, I really love it, it is the most fun I have all week. I'm in love with music and I listen to it ALL the time (except when I'm working or sleeping).

I know I'm just writing this cuz I'm feeling shitty and depressed, I know I'll be fine tomorrow, I'm not self medicating today and realizing how much I WANT to be. I just want to be back there... clubbing... feeling on top of the world... gah. I don't know what I'm looking for or what I want (well obviously more dopamine or whatever so I can feel normal). It's just impossible to explain this to most people I know and I think my boyfriend is slightly tired of me acting all blaaa (which I understand!). I'm just waiting for the next party... or to feel more normal at least!!!

If I were on drugs still, I'd have never made this trip to Key Largo. There's pics below.

I'd never have had the money to spare. If I had the money for the condo and the boat ride I'd have been too fucked up to get on the boat. But instead of sitting at home sick or wasted, I went snorkeling with some good friends and had loads of fun I didn't have to feel guilty about later. Nobody is angry with me and I have nothing to apologize for. At least not for anything I did Friday through Sunday.



The camera that was supposedly water proof didn't make it.

My girlfriend is in China on business. She has been gone for a week and it will be another week before she's back.

I'm going to the dentist tomorrow.

I'm trying to get tan and lighten my hair with chamomile tea. It's sort of working maybe.

There was a guy in the restaurant I work at on Monday, he was a Korean war veteran. I thanked him for his service. I would probably have been enlisted and sent to the Middle East in 2005 except that I couldn't pass a drug test. Thank God.

This is what my thoughts are like these days. I don't remember being so scattered. I used to be able to focus better, I think. I blame smart phones.






Starcraft.

I am sitting in the lobby of the methadone clinic having just picked up 2 takehomes and waiting for the dose I just consumed to course through my veins. I took a bit of a loss this week as the Americans took down Liberty Reserve. This is the second time I've lost a significant amount with the firm's owner Arthur. He took a hit in 2005 but after he re-gained his footing he fully refunded that initial loss and so like any sucker I fell for it. Still, I move most things through a traditional Jewish system and only dealt with Arthur when I dealt with non-Jews (Arthur is a Jew but when I enter into arrangements with non-Jews I cannot use the regular system). Liberty was great because if I had any issue I knew who go to. There is a system based in Malaysia that I might look into on my long awaited return to the Orient.

Then, a guy I know got popped with 39,000 glassines. Back in the day a retailer dealer owned his own stamp, he bought directly from a connection and bagged it himself. Back before my day people would buy a "Nickel," a 5 dollar bag in a plain glassine branded with coloured tape. Brands were known, for example, as "Green Tape," "Blue Tape" and so on. Nicel dealers bought up to an ounce, already adulterated to 35 to 50% purity, once removed from the importer. Buying from a Nickel man junkies would whack it down to 5% and bag 5 to 10 "Dos" or "Tray" [sic] bags costing $2 or $3 respectively. Other junkies would usually buy a 2 or 3 Dollar bag from such petty dealers.

Then, in 1975 Nicky Barnes changed the game, selling his famous "Quarter Bags," a tablespoon of 10% heroin stuffed into a double packed glassine, very fat and costing- as the name suggests, $25 per bag. After Barnes got popped and his underlings fell one by one the game shifted to Nickels as the usual retail package, petty dealers buying relatively pure grammes. By 1981 "Dimes" began and by 1982 stamps began. Since 1982 the only thing to change in packaging is the proliferation in different wholesale units outside of New York City.

Up until the new millenium everybody on the East Coast was buying New York Dimes and eating off the extra "PC" that distance offered. As soon as you left Queens heading east out to Long Island, north out of the Bronx up into Yonkers and White Plains or across the Hudson River into New Jersey the dime became a $15 bag. Move west or south of Newark and that 15 bag became a "20 piece." By the time you were in Washington DC that dime would get you $30 and it jumped to 50 in the Carolinas.

In all of the 1990s there was only a single dime outlet in Newark, "Puma" brand on South StrEet in Ironbound, in between what was then two Portuguese neighbourhoods and is today a straight up ghetto. The proliferation in wholesale units that I mentioned related mostly to a unit those in the Northeast US call a "Brick," 100 glassines in New York, 50 in Northern New Jersey, 130 in Camden, Atlantic City and Philadelphia. These developed as these other areas developed their own dime trades. Today it is cheaper and much easier to buy heroin in Newark, Irvington and Paterson than it is in New York itself. In New York the trade is entirely off the street now, if you don't have a petty dealer's cell phone you are fuck out of luck.

Paterson and Newark are what New York was 20 years ago...

Today importers have cut out the middle man and are importing several kilos at a time. Running 12 hour shifts they have kids stampings tens of thousands of glassines and bagging it all up. The bust I mentioned earlier was of a mill that suprisingly dealt with just a single stamp, which is probably how they were discovered. "Blackberry," with a stamp of a Blackberry phone was all this mill dealt with. 39,000 glassines in one fall swoop. It sounds like a lot of dope but when you realise that 1 gramme off the boat becomes 10 on a table things come clearer into focus.

Lately I have felt like heading to Cambodia for a month or two, can you tell? Hahaha...

A continuation...

Sleeping on my auntie's convertible sofa in the right armpit of Hell, I basically did nothing but work, fall asleep as they watched cheesy Arab TV since their sitting room was my "bedroom" and motivated myself by taking those flights up to New York every 4 to 6 weeks. Bringing home a "brick," 100 glassines of heroin for a rough total of 10 grammes, I would sniff 3 bags in the loo then lie down on the couch (I rarely pulled it out into "bed" mode) and nod off as they watched shit that made Bollywood look like Academy Award-winning materiel.

If they weren't watching that garbage it was, "Are You Being Served Yet?" It was a BBC show about an English department store and lightly satirised English class distinctions, management could not sit next to peons in the cafeteria, etc., and so on. I really hated that show. As I said, most of my time was consumed with my 3 jobs, my main gig being stockboy slash cashier in a Walgreens pharmacy, though in the sundries department, nothing to do with the pharmacy per se.

I would usually work from 1PM to 930PM, then my auntie would pick me up and drive me several kilometers to the Watkins terminal where I jumped on my trusty forklift and shuffled freight until 3AM, or thereabouts. The Walgreens sat on Atlantic Boulevard, the main drag of the town I was living in, Delray Beach, in Palm Beach County. It sat directly opposite the retirement community where my auntie's condo was located. "King's Point" was one vast sickbed, with close to 20,000 elderly residents and virtually all of them Ashkenazi Jews from New York.

I have a great amount of patience. In the IDF I have had foreign activists spit in my face and never even flicked the safety on my rifle off. Yet, working with that vast herd of cottonheads nearly drove me insane. There is a stereotype that Jews are cheap, tight with money. I always got angry hearing that because I had never met a cheap Jew in my life. Walgreen's made me a true believer.

There would be a line of 6 or 7 people. I was efficient, moving them right along, but every third or fourth customer would bust my balls. "Waaaaaaaa, your flyer says the Hershey chocolate syrup is 99 Cents! Why are you charging me $1.06???"

Rachamim: "Ma'am, I'm sorry about that but there is tax."

Irate Elderly Jewish Bitch (IEJB): "Noooooo! There is NO tax ON food!!!"

Rachamim: "If you would like, I could call a manger for you."

IEJB: "I don't need a manager! I want the price advertised in your flyer!"

Rachamim: "If you want THAT price ma'am, I will have to call the manager."

IEJB: "Are you hard of hearing? I said I do NOT need the manager, I need the advertised price!!!"

This never ending routine of spittle, piss and vinegar really took a toll on me. The most memourable experience was when a customer wanted a refund. I had him fill out the requisite slip. Seeing his surname, "Levine," I addressed him as "Mr. Levine" (it is a Jewish Tribal name denoting descendants of the tribe of Levi, and it is pronounced "Lah-veen"). He immediately turned nasty:

Nasty Man: "My name isn't Lah-veen!!! It is Lah-vine (as in "grape vine")!!!"

Rachamim: "Oh, I'm sorry sir. I'm Jewish and Jews always pronounce it as 'Lah-veen'."

NM: "Are you some sort of smart ass? I told you my name is 'Lah-vine!!!"

R: "I'm sorry, I've never heard anyone pronounce it the way you do but Ill be sure not to repeat the mistake in the future."

NM: "Future? What fucken future? You think I would ever go twice to a place where some young asshole disrespected me?"

At Walgreens we had to wear ties and a cheesy blue vest.I took off my tie, took off my vest as he continued talking shit and I told him, "I apologised to you twice and you keep running your fucken' mouth. You think cause' I'm behind this counter that I will not see you in the parking lot and smack your teeth out mothhafucer'?" I never scream, I always say such yhings matter of factly but I rarely even say anything.

To me, a person shouldn't talk about it, they should let their actions speak. Nine times out of ten? A person who talks shit loudly is doing the equivalent of when a gorilla pounds his chest, they are trying to make themselves appear stronger than they are. In any event, someone had apparently ran and found Mr. Burns, the square ass assistant manager. "Whoaaaaaaa! Raki, go to the breakroom NOW!"

Rachamim: "Nah, I'm going outside first."

By now Mr. Lah-vine is realising he fucked with the wrong cashier and is stammering, trying to shift his story. "I don't know what kind of people Walgreens is hiring these days but you ought to send this one back to his Work Release programme." I stretch my neck to relieve tension cause I wanted to slap him so hard. I didn't want to punch him. Slapping is a sign of total disrespect. The only thing more effective is sodomy but that has never been in my bag of tricks. There isn't enough imagination in the world to allow me to run up in some guy's arse.

I went to the breakroom, expecting to be fired when square ass Burns walked in. He was slightly pissed at me, "What's wrong with you Raki? You cannot challenge customers to a fight. I tried explaining what had transpired but Burns brushed it all off. To his credit he never discussed what happened again, nor did he inform the manager.

Another memourable experience was when a frozen yoghurt joint opened up 2 doors away. I love that and so I was often there. There was always a tonne of cottonheads who had just finished their earlybird specials at the surrounding resturants and cafes. Standing on line I saw a lady ahead of me accidentally drop a penny. As if on cue every head on our side of the counter stared excitedly at the floor. I was like, "Nooooooo, fuck the penny! Don't do this!" The moral? Some stereotypes are rooted in fact.


I will continue in a following post

A continuation...

At the time I would do 3 or 4 glassines in a sitting, relegating my use to 3 or 4 tomes a week and so I was able to make it last between trips up north. On one of my trips to New York I ran across one of my mates from back in the day. Catching up I discovered that his mother and siblings had moved to Florida and were living in Tampa. I gave him my contact info and told him to be sure to look me up if he ever made his way down south.


Lo and behold, not two months later I was on my forklift unloading a "pig," a 53-foot trailer full of freight. The dispatcher called me over the intercom and told me to come to the dispatcher's office for a phone call. My first thought was that somebody in my family had passed away. Grabbing the phone I was moderately relieved to discover it was my mate from New York, Fernando, or as he was usually called, "Boo Boo" (aren't all petty drug dealers named "Boo Boo"?).

To my suprise Fernando had moved south to Tampa and asked me to come pay him a visit. Living in Delray Beach this meant a 5 hour drive- or 6 hours and change busride- if I were to accept Boo Boo's invitation. My auntie and other relatives had begun worrying about my working 3 jobs, 7 days a week and so to kill the two proverbial birds with one stone I accepted Boo Boo's invitation and informed him I would take a Greyhound bus across the Floridian peninsula if he would have somebody pick me up at Tampa's central busstation.

Before too long I actually began looking forward to my mini-vacation and even allowed myself 5 days to see the sights in Tampa. Arriving on a Friday afternoon Boo Boo was there with his elder brother Ralphie who had driven him downtown to pick me up. The family was living in a section of town known as "Seminole Heights," just west of West Tampa, the neighbourhood immediately west of Downtown Tampa. With Ralphie, his obese wife Carmen and their 3 young children living in Boulveard Homes, a West Tampa housing project, Boo Boo, his slightly younger sister Francis [sic] age 18, and younger brother Mikey- age 15, lived with their mother and her live in boyfriend. The house, a pre-War bungalow on a tree-lined street was ideal because it contained a one room house in the backyard and that is where I parked myself for the next 5 days.

As Boo Boo sat on the bed telling me about Tampa I asked him about the city's drugs situation. At the time there was practically no heroin to speak but the city was flooded with crack cocaine. In New York, at the time, a half gramme vial of crack was selling for $10 and when he told me a single vial of what we both know to be "Red Top," a popular brand of crack in the South Bronx and East Harlem at the time would provide 4 to 5 of what users in Tamp referred to as "dubs," or "20 Cent pieces," a tiny rock of crack cocaine selling for $20 per. Right away I was seeing dollar signs, how much more so since I had a plentiful and relatively local source of very pure cocaine (though at that point I really had no idea what my cousin in Miami was hooked into).


After quickly greeting the family Boo Boo, Ralphie, Mikey and sister Francis piled into Ralphie's beat up Toyata and went to their cousin Leslie's home where she and her common law husband joined us and we went to the movies. Somehow or another I ended up sitting next to Francis and from that point on we began a romantic relationship that within a year would offer me my first non-Israeli child.


To be continued...

i am not a prize to be won. or a prize to be conquered. i find it absurd that people are talking to me about me and guys like it is a game. i don't give a shit if people gossip behind my back.

i know my breakup with unglued is somewhat odd. i know moving back in with vgoraz makes it even odder. i know that remaining friends with fucktwat has people guessing. i know that unglued and another girl traveling to see each other makes for good gossip. and i realize that many people have learned of most of these details over the last several weeks and most of them didn't realize how much of this has played out behind the scenes for quite awhile.

but if i didn't want to discuss my personal life with you in the past. and you are find this crap out thru gossip. why in the world would i want to talk to you about stuff now. i've gotten bizarre comments like "i bet XXX that you are going to end up with fucktwat or vgoraz. unglued is the longshot" or "vgoraz must really like you. i hope he wins and you two are together". wtf? even my mother has made comments that amongst my family, they are taking guesses about who i end up with.

right now, all i want to do is have fun. that might involve messing around with various people. that might involve taking random trips to alaska. that might involve not looking for a job and going out for fancy lunches with friends. that might involve going to punk folk rock shows mc'ed my the (former? i think the band broke up...) singer for chumbawamba. that might involve playing pub trivia as the only girl on the guys night out team (i have a firm handshake, so i can stay according to my one friend).

privately, i am also talking lots to unglued. talking lots to vgoraz and a few other people i trust. working thru a range of emotions and trying to sort out what is going on. right now, unglued and i are getting along great. but we both realize the distance is part of why we are getting along so well.

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Click to expand...

~Derek Walcott

May 30th is a day that is important to me, depending on what I accept as important. It's the date of a girl's birthday. She was another piece of my life. Meeting her taught me things. Made me believe more what I had doubted, in the past. Not that I don't still doubt, perhaps even more than before, but as well, I potentially have less. I expanded with her. I condensed. I don't know how to say it.

But May 30th is her birthday. And, I was sort of looking for something special to happen. Had my eyes and ears on.

The one thing so far, I guess, that could be, but very well might not be, but made me think anyways, was a girl told me she won't be signing her name "like that" for much longer- as that last name, that she signed with tonight. I am a courier, and this was at a nursing home, where I deliver meds. The nurse (girl) just got married, and her name is Hart (just not legally, yet, I guess). She flaunted her ring to me. "Hart" jumped out, coming as the first new name, or calling attention to a name.

One year after I met this girl, on the day I might have considered her gone, the year before, I suffered what I thought was a heart attack, which I went to the hospital for.

One year after that, I took my first order of the day (which fell one day after, but I made sure I did nothing the day before, the exact anniversary, to avoid another "heart attack"- haha) to a family with the name "Hart", working a pizza delivery job.

Another year came up, and on the same day, my grandmother died. I ate beef liver the night before her funeral, and I didn't know I was allergic to it. I had very bad chest pain during the funeral. I thought I might just die. Like another heart attack.

Exactly one year later, my mom retired, from work.

The girl relates to my mom. I also saw some reflection of my grandmother. Some. Of course, we all reflect. We are all like each other, in ways, and different in ways.

But anyways, I associate her with heart. And "Hart", although not the same, sounds the same.

It's time to pay me for the time vortex.

I was not right about what I thought he said - it was that he thought I would be a good candidate for it if I did those things I have to do. He also probably isn't responsible for choosing by himself. All I think he could do is recommend me. Maybe he would have some influence, I don't know.

Disappointed about my prospects in regards to that project but the other things are good. I also probably don't have to worry about fucking things up since there is probably nothing to fuck up.

My mother and I are moving to Arkansas. There is already too little space in this house as it is, especially with my brother being here and my raccoon needing his own room. My mom had earlier tried to get me to rent a trailor house from a friend of hers because she knew I wanted to move out of town. I wasn't going to waste the money because she would have had to help me pay my bills. That is not a problem now. Two full time workers to take care of this house + my dad moving back here with his money will make this arrangement possible - my mom and I will be able to pool our income to pay for the new place.

My niece will have no excuse to go back on her word since she has a place to take her son away from that man and she sounds sincere and plans to return to college. The man doesn't work so he does nothing to support her. It doesn't seem like there is any reason for her to go back to him. I guess I'll have to wait and see. If she doesn't keep her word and the baby starts getting hurt all the time again, I think I'll have to do something if nobody else wants to do anything. Nobody wants to cause trouble for my niece or anything but you can't let something like this happen. I would discuss it with my mom first to see if she could do something and just in case something is done like right then.

If this arrangement doesn't stop what clearly seems like child abuse to everyone in the family, would it be wrong for me to report these suspicions on my own if everyone else is just hoping the problem will go away but not doing anything? I really don't know for sure. I could report it anonymously. I hope it won't even come to that.

I am not moving just for my niece, the move was already under consideration and will later become necessary for a great student research project that I was somehow given a chance at - I can't believe that I am getting this chance. I didn't think I had a chance when I heard about it last fall and that was before I dropped two semesters in a row. It sounds like I will get it for sure as long as I don't fuck things up. I have some classes I must take and get grades of at least a B in and some training on how to do what I'll be doing. The area where this research is being done is in several locations around the TX AR OK border. I also get paid. I will most likely not start on the actual research (and getting paid) until the Spring 2015 because I won't be ready in time to join for spring 2014 and they only bring new students in during spring. There are undergrad and grad students working together and it is a multi-year study. I guess maybe I was chosen because it was clear that I really wanted it. It probably helped that I also wrote about the species in question twice before I heard about this project and got perfect grades for both papers - graded by the one who chose me for this.

I will likely screw this up. I just have to wait and see.

This trip report has been compiled from live notes, cleaned up, and is here for everyone's enjoyment and information.

Age: 40
Weight: 185 lbs / 84 kg
Male

4/30/2013

11:10 PM GMT

DOSED: 200mg capsule of 6-APB powder (light tan, powdered with some larger small pebble sized chunks) swallowed.

5/1/2013

0:40 AM GMT

I am in the midst of that nasty comeup. Trying to find a comfortable place to wait it out. But it's a very physical come-up. Pacing, walking around, many trips to the bathroom, to spit, to eliminate...

0:48 AM GMT.

Guys and gals: it's just like shrooms. You get that nauseated feeling (every time) and then you're going to want to spit spit spit... And then you get that violent retch, for me, always about an hour and a half to two hours afterward. Immediately after that retch, (to steal from another guy's post from some other article) "the buzz finds the groove."

And now it has. And the nausea fades, and as it does the nystagmus begins. The jaw movement. The tongue lashing. lol

As I lay on the bed, under the covers, I find myself "swimming" as I move my arms in a breast stroke. The feeling of my skin on the clean linens is wonderful.

1:02 AM GMT.

Before I forget, I want to point out that through the entire come up, there is this bile that builds in the back of the mouth, near the throat. It must be cleared. Also, I find that I cannot stand light, and even the brightness of the computer monitor before me is quite aggravating.

For whatever reason, I notice a unique body odor after using this chemical. I think it's from my body forcing out toxins (mostly acids). I think I may jump in the shower for a second time. Especially since it marks exactly 2 hours since I swallowed the capsule.

1:44 AM GMT.

The bath was therapeutic. Warm water. No soap. Gently treat the body's largest organ to a very neutral and relaxing tonic.

Then laying on the bed, face down. Breathing deep. Imagining a gentle massage. Letting everything go. Breathe in. Breathe out. Healthy. Got the crazy tracers going on and the rainbow diffusion off of bright objects.

I have never used DMT, but from the experience reports, I have come to call this stage of the 6-APB trip the "DMT stage." Visuals are pronounced. Eyes want to close, really, maybe to get away from the visuals? My headspace is much like our friend Tryptamine Bunny always advises: "let go and simply experience."

I think that if I were in the massage industry, I would market serotonin & dopamine massage.

I should note that as of yet, I have hardly noticed any sexual stimulation at all. Bloodflow is amazing right now, too.

1:57 AM GMT.

So calm a sense of peace. Imagined someone running their fingers gently across the skin on my face, combing through my hair. (OH boy, yellow really stands out right now.)

Satriani's "Echo" is playing, and I can't think of a more beautiful song to exemplify how I am feeling right now. Or maybe it's the song that is making me feel this way?

OK now it's time for visualizations on media player to go along with the music.

2:06 AM GMT.

Now I'm getting sexually stimulated. And right with that notion, I realize that I'm starting to sweat, and that it is hard for me to follow the words that I am currently typing.

2:21 AM GMT.

Extrasensory on sound, extrasensory on touch. Extrasensory on light, too, as I pointed out earlier. I wonder how taste is affected? I don't feel like eating anything though. My jaw, when in that middle state of being relaxed and tensed, wants to quiver--but now that I am thinking about it, it has stopped completely.

I wonder what my body temp is. Feels like it must be high high high. My thermometer must be broken. Reading 94.1 F at the left ear canal, and the right canal won't read at all.

Interestingly enough, my right eye is dilated to infinitum, my left looks pretty normal. Well it did. Now it's dilated like crazy.

2:45 AM GMT.

Oh my God. Here's what it comes down to: we're all running around, sweating, dancing, reading, testing, resting, fuzzy and sharp, and my urine glows with yellow B-vitamin goodness. and attention!! There is work to be done!

3:06 AM GMT.

Music's ended. Silence. No visualizations. Just the sound of the computer's cooling fans whizzing away, and the sound of terrible wind in my ears. I am absolutely spaced out. I'm on the other side, but having passed through, I am changed. Everything imploded then exploded and like a teardrop in reverse.

So I looked that particular line up, because I liked it. And I found this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bt7K5NGeTEo And it's pretty cool. I guess.

I was really cold, so I had turned up the thermostat, and turned on the furnace. But, only a few minutes later, and I'm sweating again.

3:38 AM GMT.

Yeah so it's only been like twenty minutes since I last wrote this stuff, and I'm in a totally different headspace now than I was a minute ago.

OK, here's why:

DOSED: approx (did not weigh) 50mg 5-MEO-DALT powder, smoked
DOSED: approx (did not weigh) 350mg Cannabis, (OG Kush) smoked

Ten minutes ago I smoked some marijuana mixed with 5-meo-dalt. It brought me to attention, albeit I'm kind of, at least physically, wonked out. Mentally, I feel sharp. So long as I can keep a connection between my mind and my fingers, then communication will continue. Soon enough, all that remains is the sound of an echo, a decay, that never really ever stops.

3:47 AM GMT.

I had a fantastic idea, but sometime, while pondering all factors, it became a part of the chaos, with a purpose, but not of its own choosing. I accept PayPal donations, if any of you wish to support this new idea, visit

3:58 AM GMT.

I've been thinking about that, and I swear that I typed that yesterday. OK, this is a fantastic combination. My face is locked in a half-snarl half-smile, but inside I'm as cheerful as a leprechaun in the land of one million rainbows, and to think that I invented all of it. Even you.

4:09 AM GMT.

Very LSD-like right now. Sinus pressure changes, back pain, skeletal pain in general. colors...so rich the colors I want to spell them colours. They are so rich and vibrant and multi-hue-onic. Man. Oh, right before I started typing these words I took another hit from the mix. The 5-meo-dalt must be effective submilligram, coz there couldn't have been much left after the first time, but... woah. Sure enough.

4:28 AM GMT.

I came to the crushing realization, the fact upon which all other facts depend: it's a chemical love machine, and you can drive it.

4:36 AM GMT.

Or crash it if you aren't careful.... yikes! (after third hit from the mix)

4:41 AM GMT.

I've been listening to that Massive Attack Teardrop in Reverse and watching that video. I had it paused and it was morphing before my eyes, and I was able to see it all for what it is.

4:45 AM GMT.

Ahhh! Nyet! Stop clenching your jaw, damn it! My neck and back are in serious need of relaxation. If I wasn't out of Etizolam I would definitely take one right now.

WOW. The original version... I was spellbound that someone was tripping harder than me that day. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u7K72X4eo_s

5:24 AM GMT.

THC coming on in, as with some beers. And let me tell you. These are some of the coolest visuals, too. I can pretty much do anything, and it's just so cool.

5:58 AM GMT.

: I laugh as I swallow tasty morsels of marinated pork : I resolve to be the sheriff of this new land, and I will begin by LEAVING YOU ALONE : This new land of Abanado. :

Just Mad Genius, Is All

Put on Django (after having got the idea somewhere on Bluelight some time ago), that great 1966 western that's just bad ass. Fell asleep about halfway through. Four hours later and I'm feeling somewhat good. A little groggy. Coffee and a cap of ethylphenidate and I'll be ready for work.

I had to share this simply amazing video I found on Youtube. Mesmerizing! Obviously mind-blowing while blasting-off or tripping, but just as beautiful straight and clear minded too! ;-)

[video]http://m.youtube.com/#/watch?v=suAUjBP59_A[/video]

If you like what you see and want more eye candy for your psychedelic experiences, I've gathered a plethora of videos on my Youtube channel. Also, there is TONS on information on DMT. Enough to keep you occupied for your entire 8 hours desk time at work ;-) Check it and let me know if you like!

Since we're on the subject of DMT visuals - here is a video I put together with some amazing artwork I found online with STS9 laying down the beats in the background. Hope you enjoy. Sorry to the artist that I didn't give credit too. It was difficult to find everyone's info! But I hope you don't mind me putting your work together in this montage. Enjoy your visit to the 4th dimension!! D_D

[video]https://youtu.be/KTTBKTzktZg[/video]

http://www.alternet.org/print/drugs/southern-states-outlaw-syringe-exchanges-used-prevent-disease

This literally makes me sick. I couldn't be happier to live in California, specifically Los Angeles, where the community is there to support IV drug users, fighting against the almost unanimous stigma of IV drug users being worthless. In fact, there are laws set up in Los Angeles protecting people coming to and from syringe exchange programs. Also, cops are prohibited to that stake out those areas in order to bust people coming to and from. In fact there are multiple instances of studies proving that Syringe Exchange Programs (SEP's) not only help reduce crime, but support the IV drug user community and help reduce addition and drug use by proving recovery programs at low or no cost.

“Needle exchange programs have been proven to reduce the transmission of blood-borne diseases. A number of studies conducted in the U.S. have shown needle exchange programs do not increase drug use. I understand that research has shown these programs, when implemented in the context of a comprehensive program that offers other services such as referral to counseling, health care, drug treatment, HIV/AIDS prevention, counseling and testing, are effective at connecting addicted users to drug treatment.“
—Gil Kerlikowske, Director of the White
House Office of National Drug Control
Policy and former Seattle Police Chief,
responding to a written question during his
confirmation process

It's times like this where I want to help, and make sure similar crimes against humanity cease to happen elsewhere, but I don't know where to begin.

http://www.alternet.org/print/drugs/southern-states-outlaw-syringe-exchanges-used-prevent-disease

I've recently starting volunteering for Erowid, and I'm a regular down at my local needle exchange where I utilize all services from procuring supplies and trading in used needles for new ones, to attending individual therapy with an actual psychologist and attending group support meetings, like a ladies group and a Drug and Alcohol Support Group, Safe Shooting Class, Overdose Prevention, including 2 free doses of Narcone with training how to administer it. They also provide, free of service to all IV drug users, Thai Chi, Zumba, Palettes, Acupuncture and Cranial Massages. As well as a whole department dedicated to safe sex, free condoms and educating sex workers and low income people.

I have filled out an application to start volunteering there myself. They have responded and hopefully I can go in and start helping out soon, after an orientation. They also always have active users on their volunteer staff and sometime regular staff. Which shows how much they believe in people and aren't blinded by the perception of what a drug addict it. Especially an IV drug user. It's one of the only places in LA that I feel completely comfortable and don't feel like I have to hind my arms or in away cover up who I am.

In a perfect world everyone would have the opportunity to frequent an establishment like this. One that has a dedicated staff of people who care and don't want to see a single person suffer another injury or contract another disease from IV drug use. The staff is mainly social workers, working for barely minimum wage, but they don't begrudge the system at all. They choice to be there. To do this job. Because they love it. I hope that I can have as positive an influence on my community as these people have had one me and my community - the Downtown Skid Row area. Although, I know there are others on the west side as well.

I was recently reading a Harm Reduction Journal, and it did a study on hundreds of heroin addicts in China. Some within close proximity of SEP's and some far from such programs, so it would not be reasonable to get there by walking or public transportation. Those addicts who were in a close radius to SEP's were 80% more likely to have not reused or shared needles. Hope governments world wide and good hearted, well intentioned social works will see the benefit in these dramatic results and take action. For a city as big as LA, we should have a dozen SEP's spread out amongst our sprawling cityscape.

I look forward this year to doing my part and hopefully help the world rid itself of its harmful and hurtful, unnecessary prejudices.

By the way - I started my Suboxone today. I'm trying once again to kick this habit. At least for a while. I made it over 24 hours! Yay! Please wish me luck. I desperately need it I spent two hours in the bathroom trying to shoot up at a friends yesterday. Terrible. I need this break. I'm happy to have the support of my boyfriend doing it with me at the same time too Love you SoCal_Fluffhead! xoxo

http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/...e-psychedelicized-genius-and-veritably-insane
http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/632565-The-Big-amp-Dandy-6-APB-Thread-(Part-5)
http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/611382-The-Big-amp-Dandy-5-MeO-DALT-Thread-(Part-2)
http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/...-phenyl(piperidin-2-yl)acetate)-Megathread-V2
http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/611375-The-Big-amp-Dandy-Nootropics-Thread-(Stack-2)
http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads/548570-The-Big-amp-Dandy-5-APB-Thread

the first time i watched the pilot episode of this show, i took my phone off the charger as it was playing, and turned it on, to find the number 317 (as time) and not a couple of seconds after, it turned to 3:18, where on the show the number 318 was significant. i had just enough time to think, "wouldnt it be cool if...", if it turned to 3:18, that it turned to 318.

the kid, "Jake", sees these numbers, and repeats them, or calls attention to them in a way that gets his father to notice them, and to effect certain changes, which the knowledge of these numbers helps to do.

it's an alright show. but it began this way for me, already being a show about numbers, and me as i sometimes am, with them, noticing, for instance, the number 405 repeat in a way that seems at the time uncanny, and with extremely small chances to pop up where they would, in short time. also, the number 23, as mentioned briefly, in my previous blog shows up. many other numbers have come, too. i wouldn't say mine are really like what goes on in that show. i don't chase them around. i observe. i have "chased them around" (but not like on show)... it was fun.

but, anyways. the most recent season ended with but didn't explain "the nest of 7", "the nest of seven", which, i had just seen 7 within 6, 8, and 9, or this is how i associated it, when i heard it. this is perhaps not anything of it, the way they- the writers, mean it. but 6 and 8 and 9, might resemble, or have in their forms similar form to eggs. and 0. of the numbers, they could, i guess. i have wondered about 7 and it's position in these numbers. 6, 8, and 9, and 0, all reflect the same simple circular motion, that is common, in planetary orbits, and bodies, stars, the motion around a singularity, the movement of our legs as they propel us... the ball joints in our arms, and legs, and feet... our eyes. the bulbous forms, fruiting bodies, many fruit, most everything even if sharp and jagged relies on some circular form to maintain stability. and these number sum to 23, again, and 77 from 100 is 23 but i'm not sure where i'd get the extra 7. maybe .. maybe they all hatch into 7s. every "egg". hmm. 689, or 6890? 67890
777777
777,777
7+7+7+7+7+7=42. Hmm.

i think it' s time to watch some tv, or play halo.

i may come back and play/think some more.

1234567890

most places, you will commonly find these numbers used, where you find numbers. when written, they may look different, but this is seemingly the common form.

they mostly appear the same as this.

circular forms are also common forms. eyeballs, blood vessels, cells in animals, orbits, planets, the circular motions in nature, can find mirror in what might be present in these numbers as numbers/numerals 0, 6, 8, 9.

6+8+9=23.

these are also numbers that mirror, unlike any others. 6 and 9 are mirrors. 8 can be seen as symmetrical, and balanced. 6 and 9 could be put together to form an 8-like form. They can all be blended into one, pretty easily, with very little alteration. the form to me seems the most "stable", visually. circles are the most stable forms, to easily form, that i know of.

i found this when i was looking at the keyboard, noticing that w- the 23rd letter of the modern latin alphabet, is directly below numbers 2 and 3. i think that's when i found it. i wanted to find- to group things according to common forms, and these were the only numbers i could decide on, without too much second guessing-- the numbers 6, 8, and 9. it doesn't hurt that they have within them forms that resemble zero, which is the base/beginning.

i did have issue with the fact that 2 can be written at least two different ways, and one involves a loop type form, but when writing a 2 that way, for one, it continues on through.. it doesn't simply reconnect in a nice curve into itself, like 6 and 9 ( and 8 ) do. as well, 2 in standard type-set does not have this loop. 4 as well was sort of confusing. but it isn't circular, for one.

marilyn marie duellman 7 syllables
alisha brooke finch 5 syllables
sara nicole sterling 6 syllables
kathryn brooke calhoon 5 syllables

23 syllables

didn't get dropped from the pain clinic this last week. "faked" my pill count as Kroger Melatonin pills look exactly like 10mg Oxymorphone IR pills, just with no stamp. i take 1/2 a pill, so i just broke pills into little slivers and passed the count. got bumped to 20mg of Oxymorphone IR a day too. and got my Soma back too.

the 19 year old girl and i are "on a break" and my friend who was leeching off me is in rehab. i have my meds all to myself. it's great. smoked a blunt roach i bought from the dishwasher for $5 at work last nite. i love week. got lit.

weight is around 155 with clothes on. doing push-ups, curls, and ab work daily now.

I AM GOING TO SELF-ACTUALIZE THIS YEAR!!!

"The Existential Pain of Being Young, White, and Affluent"

An article from the Atlantic that can be read here.

Abuse of prescription drugs is most common among those who enjoyed the most advantages in adolescence, causing some to rethink the consequences of privilege.

The article sparked a flurry of conversation here on BL. It was suggested that my comment be made a blog post. Here is the initial comment and replies that eventually led to mine....


Originally Posted by Laika:
"Lol, I don't know if it's been mentioned, I only read the first two pages of comments. But lol @ people who have internet capabilities at all, in a privileged manner- arguing and defending their social statuses."

Originally Posted by 3,4-dihydroxyphen:
"lol this.


Particularly those on the "I'm poor so I've struggled more than you, and your suffering doesn't matter as much as mine because your mommy and daddy have money and my mommy and daddy don't" end. Fucking ridiculous statements, and one's I have never in my life heard uttered by somebody who is truly poor, even by American standards (by American standards I mean either living in the inner-city or a project, as opposed to world standards, which means living in a makeshift hut of scrap metal and inhaling kerosene 24/7).

I'm going to venture that a lot of those claiming to have grown up poor come from lower-middle/higher end of upper-lower class blue collar communities, rather than inner cities."

Originally Posted by RobotRipping:
"i'd say i grew up low-middle class (while being surrounded by filthy rich kids) then my family made more money later on in my life but really i was on my own for those times and didn't have parents pay for my education unlike my friends, had to work hard, unlike my friends and in the real world, have difficulty finding decent work because i don't have their connections or rich daddies to hand me jobs. So in that sense i am bitter and have always had bitterness towards the people who had everything given to them. If i grew up like them i'd probably hate poor people, we are pitted against each other, you can see that in people who are from 'old money' do not accept people from 'new money' into their social circles. I could make billions but i'm not going to be one of them, ever.

i'm not really filled with hate for those capitalist offspring pieces of shit; i just find it funny that they have succumbed to the very problems their capitalist forefathers created ie. alienation. Now that their lives are complete (financially), they find they are not whole and turn to opiates to fill that void. Well good for them, i did the same, but i still have to laugh at their existential pain and how it's so fucking bad for them, we all feel that pain and a great deal of it was caused by the 'owners of the means of production', capitalism and the society their rich ancestors created. Things that the ruling class believe are virtues of their lives and now that they feel the pain that the less fortunate have, they end up the same way, but the poor have an advantage because we've been there already and know this shit inside and out.

if you came from 'new money' created by innovation and intelligence then fine but if you're one of those old money bitches, i have no sympathy for you when it comes to your existential pain, hope it hurts."

Originally Posted by 3,4-dihydroxyphen:
"Well, a lot of those kids are in the same boat as you. I grew up, at different times, both inner-city poor and what some people (not myself) would deem rich. A lot of the pain in the age group is due to the changing economic times, where kids who grew up in upper middle class homes look around them and do not see the same opportunities their parents had. If you aren't super rich in this world (like top 1% rich), then you are, at this point, getting poorer. This is tough on upper middle class kids with high expectations placed on them, particularly those within the 1984-1990 range, who grew up at a time when opportunity was available to them, only to have it snatched away basically as soon as they reached adulthood."


Originally Posted by greywoodfoxhall:
As part of this demographic, I know exactly what you speak of. People say we're 'Generation Y', as 'Y' comes after 'X' and our generation is often left asking "Why?" But, I find 'Generation Rx' is much more fitting. I was supposed to be a legacy at the Air Force Academy, but I tried pot, and realized I'd been lied to about drugs. But, before pot, I got promethazine after shattering my maxillary ridge (bone in between your nose and teeth that holds your teeth in place) and snorting it in the bathroom at the private christian "WASP-nest" private school i was forced to go to made me feel cool like the rappers I listened to at the time. The song "Oxycotton" came out, and my friend got a bunch after burning his legs severely. We ate what in retrospect where Percocets and an OC or two and went downtown. I turned to him and said, "You could walk into traffic right now, and get hit, and I'd run out saying, 'Don't worry, he'll be okay, everything is cool.' I don't want you to get hit by a car, and logically I know it would not be okay, but I FEEL like anything/everything is cool right now." He understood what I meant and concurred. We decided we'd take more of the small pills next time and two of the big ones (luckily, we never did, we didn't understand the big ones were weaker, not stronger than the small ones).

I suffer from horrible depression, and have since middle-school with a brief break in 8th grade and then my senior year... I broke my arm horribly at the skate park and got put on 3 Percocet 5s a day. I felt incredible. Allergic to SSRIs (deathly allergic), my meds had been constantly changed since I was 15 till just recently actually (I take Remeron and surprise, thanks to back pain and RLS, get oxymorphone IR)... but I had a respite on those Percocets that led me down a path of self-medicating for a long time, seeking that relief. I would just sit, talking to my mom, and enjoying it (I was a horribly moody teenager). I got a girlfriend, a really hot one too... head freshman cheerleader. Those Percocets and then the Loratabs I got all through the fall of my senior year in high-school gave me a will to live. I ended up attempting suicide the next fall though, 3 days before I was off to college on an academic scholarship with the goal of becoming a research pharmacist (so I had access to narcotics). I went to rehab at my ex-girlfriend and parents' urging where I learned I could do drugs every day and not just on the weekends without being injured and so I left thinking more like an addict than when I arrived. My parents admitted that it was the worst mistake they ever made a year or two back. So, I came home and went to self-medicating hard. Now, I'm done, thankful almost for the ailments that qualify me for my oxymorphone as it gives me a reason to want to live.

Yeah, I still dabble, but I'm on probation, and the pain clinic drug tests... so it's not worth it. I wish I had gone to school like I was supposed to, but then I realize... there are a lot of people my age who did the "right thing" and are living in their parents' basements, hoping for a shitty minimum wage job just like me. I grew up when the big tobacco lawsuits were occurring and lawyers fresh out of school made $100,000 a year without having to look for a job, they were just handed out almost (why I wanted to go to the AFA... get paid to go to school and become a JAG (military lawyer), do my 5 years in the Air Force behind a desk as a JAG, get out, get an awesome job, get a trophy-wife, trade her in for a new 20 year-old one after 15 years, and just be a f'ing WASP... I literally wrote all that in an English paper about my life goals as a sophomore; right before I smoked weed the first time). There are no big lawsuits anymore. Jobs aren't handed out. Only thing handed out are food-stamps. I'm lucky in that due to my experiences, I don't want money... I want to be able to afford my pills, feed myself, and have a place to stay; but I don't look at people and covet what they have. I imagine how horrific it must be if you do though. It must be so depressing... and so we all do drugs. Generation Rx...



Are we, high or low class, Generation Rx? What do y'all consider yourselves?

I'll be honest here, when I get to a certain level of intoxication regardless of the substance, I talk to myself. And some people would say it's just "thinking out loud" but I'm being honest, I have full on conversations with myself. The worst part about it is, I actually enjoy it.

I also tend to take nearly all of my drugs alone as well, mostly either in my car or at my house if I really think I won't be able to drive. This just exacerbates the issue though, as I wind up just voicing whatever comes into my head then thinking of a funny response to what I just said. Basically I just make fun of myself, but in a third person kind of way if that makes sense.

And I really do lay into some things without even thinking about it, then after I stop talking I realize the rant I just unloaded and laugh.

I guess the modern day word for it (although I detest this "word") would be hater, but it's not like I truly hate anything. I just feel that everyone has weaknesses, even the most confident people. And if you don't let them know that you know their weaknesses, they are more prone to try and take advantage of you.

Although now that I think about it, I really just had to do that growing up. My brother doesn't go a 24 hour period without spewing some form of bullshit out of his mouth. The degree of how much BS it is varies, but it's seriously always something.

He is the type of person that has to prop up the few things he does do with nonstop talk to cover up the things he can't, or doesn't do. If I never called him out on anything I don't even know how we would conversate (is that a word? seriously 50/50 on it butt fuck it).

Here's a typical conversation we have:

Bro: says something false
Me: corrects statement with "I think it's actually xxxxx"
Bro: "I don't know", followed by ridiculous reasoning for his opinion
Me: Usually at this point I either just drop it or find the most ridiculous part of his logic and attack that to try and get his cogs turning on his own
Bro: "ok well I'm gonna look it up" (smartphones are seriously going to be his downfall)
Me: at this point he either changes the subject upon realizing he is wrong or the even more annoying "yeah you were right BUT, what I was trying to say was..."

followed by more bullshit

so it's just like I can't even hold a conversation with him because its the same fucking formula every time.

A pretty innocuous example was one night we were watching the Lakers play the Sixers on TV and he was trying to tell me Kobe played a few seasons for them before Shaq got there, which is just absolutely false. I disagreed, he tried to pull the age card on me "dude you were only 4 years old when that happened I remember" and then he does the lookup, and

silence.....

and I'm just sitting there like, "well? any more BRAIN BUSTERS?"

you fucking chatty cathy

So yeah, I just keep to myself now, which leads me back to the original subject.

Is it crazy if what you are saying makes perfect sense? I seriously liken it to the "if a tree falls in a forest but no one hears it" adage but I really don't know if I'm just crazy.

You could say it's because of a lack of friends, which is true to a certain extent. I really didn't have a lot of "friends" in the traditional sense. I mean, I was cool with everyone, but could never really become especially close emotionally with anyone. Part of it was reasons of my own doing, and I certainly don't regret it because it opened my eyes to a lot of subtleties that most kids don't think about until college economics class, but at the same time it wasn't really what I should have been doing.

And you could say it's been drugs that made me do it, to which I would say you should see me not on drugs. I'm just another quiet, nondescript white male with no real special characteristics that someone would notice. Just another dude. If anything my drug use has made me more open.

But it's like why do I have to see the negative side of everything? Even if I tell myself to think positive and only say positive things to other people, I still am ripping them to shreds in my head.

Maybe it's just like a mind game I play with myself, I feel like if I'm not doing it to them they are doing it to me.

I don't know what I'm even trying to say anymore, and the I key on my keyboard is getting pretty worn out. I guess I am somewhat weird, but in my opinion, a lot of people are just fucking lame.

And I'd rather be weird than lame 10/10 times

Several years ago, I received an ampoule of IV midazolam solution. I was much less extreme and diverse in my drug-using habits then, sticking mostly to cannabis, psychedelics, benzos and the odd ecstasy piill, and after a short while of consideration, decided not to shoot it. I either plugged it or took it orally; all I noticed was that it was far less strong than I had expected.

The last year was the worst year of my life. I started it still in shatters after the abrupt and quite brutal, heart-wrenching and disrespectful end of a 2-year relationship. I was on benzos for at least 30% of the year, probably close to 50%, and my studies had grinded to a halt. I was perpetually broke, mostly very anti-social, and involuntarily celibate for several months. I had some of the worst agoraphobia, GAD, panic attacks, and actual depression for the first time in my life.

I had harbored a curiosity for IV administration before, but now when life was already giving me so much trouble, it felt like a less drastic measure - after all, one bit of bad to go with all the rest of the shit.

So one day I decided to try morphine intravenously₁. 10mg was a highly conservative starting dose, and I should have known with my natural insensitivity I'd need more, but I decided to play it safe, as intravenous opiate use is relatively risky among recreational drug use. I cannot say that I felt more than the mildest threshold effects.

Dissatisfied, the next time I put 40mg in the syringe, with no tolerance, and shot that up₂. This produced the strongest rush I'd ever experienced, beating the rush from smoking methamphetamine that had held the record untilt then. I felt no nausea, negligible side effects, and was no bothered in the least by slight itching. It was highly euphoric.

The next time I found myself using a syringe, I wanted to feel what IV cocaine felt like, as I had heart it was completely different to other methods of administration.₃. I cannot remember the starting dose, between 20-50mg, but the coke was relatively pure and I felt euphoric effects almost as strong as the morphine rush, though very different in nature. I soon shot up again, this time with a dose in the 70-100mg range₄. This took the top spot from the morphine; I had never felt such intensely euphoric physical stimulation and empowerment as this, despite the nausea and somewhat alarming physical reactions.

It was my fifth time injecting anything when I came closer to death than I have ever been. The cocaine was well over 80% pure and I shot up 200mg₅ .It was worse than the most terrifying panic attack in my life, as the physical symptoms seemed far more intense, and I was also convulsing wildly. Afterwards I was highly aloof, panicky, paranoid and agitated for a good while. I had never been so certain that I was dying. I decided never to inject cocaine again.

The sixth time I injected a drug, it happened to be heroin₆. The first injection, apparently of mid-quality heroin, was pleasurable but far from the euphoria of the morphine. The same happened the second₇ and third₈ times. The fourth time the purity and dose were finally adequate, and I felt the difference to morphine - a strong difference. This was the cleanest, most pure and forceful yet comfortable euphoria I had ever felt₉. I injected heroin twice more; the fifth was pleasurable₁₀, a well-estimated dose, and so was the next₁₁, but my friend overshot his dose slightly and his heart and breathing stopped. I revived him after god knows how many minutes of CPR, but have never been so afraid in my life. I decided never to inject heroin again.

A substance I initially thought would never feel the need to inject was oxycodone, yet somehow this ended up happening too. 50mg oxycodone₁₂ was euphoric but produced no memorable rush to speak of, and was equivalent to only slightly more oral oxycodone, which lasts slightly longer. Decided this was not worth shooting.

As I discovered pyrazolam was water-soluble, I had to try this too. 1mg₁₃ produced a mild rush, but not highly powerful or intense. However, this was the only way to get any recreational effects from pyrazolam.

My next three injections were morphine again, 40mg₁₄, 50mg₁₅, and 60mg₁₆, which were highly pleasant experiences as before.

One night I accidentally ingested way too much methamphetamine and decided I wanted to sleep instead of tweak for one more night, possibly two. I also wanted to get to sleep immediately as I felt horrible and the shadow people were assembling, so I injected 10mg levomepromazine/methotrimeprazine (Nozinan) ₁₇. The antipsychotic and sedative effects manifested themselves very quickly and I was soon sound asleep.

The next item I would administer intravenously would be midazolam. I attempted it once in normal tap water without doing enough research, and felt fuck all from 15mg Dormicum₁₈. I then lowered the water pH with vinegar, and shot up another 15mg₁₉. I could feel it, a slightly jolly, slow feeling similar to alcohol intoxication, but it was not very strong and short-lived.
Finally I filtered 45mg Dormicum₂₀ and finally experienced the euphoria of intravenous midazolam. The most euphoric benzo experience I have had.

The latest was an attempt to find out which side of the story held true for me - would shooting up (meth)amphetamine cause a euphoric rush? I weighed out 200mg of crank powder which had earlier been determined by oral and nasal adminsitration to be both relatively high-purity, and also relatively high in meth content. I injected the solution₂₁, and awaited a rush - none came. Within 20 seconds I simply felt like I was suddenly on a lot of amphetamines, with no trace of euphoria or a rushing sensation. Simply an immediate onset of peak effects. It made me feel slightly nauseous, but otherwise fine - it just seemed to make the onset even faster, that's all. Among the most disappointing IV experiments.