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Do I really want to post anything here?

I'll have to think about it.

I am an addictions nurse, i love my job, and totally get the patients i see.,
however, there are those days that i just don't understand how and why
they use specific things. I found this blogging website investigating my new
issue. I was hooked on bluelight instantly. The discussions on here are
amazing. I tend to have a different approach to treating my patients,
as my best friend is a severe addict, and i know what works well for her as a friend.

So what i am wondering, if there is any relevance at all, is why are some of my current users requesting only brand name gravol and not the generic???

> Nothing is itself. Everything is everything else (what it is not).
>
> This probably sounds very bizarre, but it's true. There are not actually any
opposites.
>
> The true Subject, the perceiver, the Reality, is everything that one isn't.
>

Let's look a tad deeper, play with these ideas a little.

What is the true Self, then, if it isn't me?

The true "S"elf is the rest of the universe, except for me.

Who or what is the 'me'?

The 'me' is a conglomeration of everything that isn't really what it is, and
everybody who is not really who they are. It's me, of course, as me. It's you, as you. It's everyone and everything, backwards.

It is another who isn't anyone or anything -- thus it wants to be somebody, wants to get a life, wants to possess everything.

Do you want a lot of possessions, to possess lots of things?

Only demons want to possess anything.

How does this false self dissolve, how can it? There's only one way.

For everything that is not it, to be dropped.

You don't have to lose yourself to get rid of self, to attain 'ego-death'. You have to lose everything else.

That is why the false self rarely goes.

Peace...

About a month ago, my hamster died. Pretty upsetting. I'd only had her for about nine months, but still, pets are important to me. And I live by myself, so I get close to my pets. Then, a week later, my family's cat died. I don't live with my parents anymore, but I grew up with them, my sis, and the two cats. We'd had that cat for maybe 13, 14 years? Possibly longer. My dad even cried over the cat (and my dad is not a cat person). It was very sad.
Then the worst part, I hear a couple days ago that my grandma is in the hospital! She IS alive. But she's 90 years old, she lives by herself, she can't remember anything. But she won't go into a home! But now the hospital is kind of making her go into some sort of home. Thank goodness. She can't be living by herself anyway. She lives two hours away from me and I don't drive, so I have to try and get down there sometime to visit her, hopefully next week.

Now things just seem to pile on me. I'm come down with a cold, I'm only going to see my boyfriend for like two seconds this weekend, I ripped a pair of my favourite tights, I have ants invading my house, one of my cheques was returned and I have major NSF charges because I forgot to transfer money into the right account that early. Urgggh.

I'm not one to think negatively, but sometimes it just piles on!!

U know, it's funny... I've been thinking a bit lately about how I've essentially experienced everything at this point, and when my time comes, it won't be a bad thing.

As I see it, you don't actually need to go through a life event to experience it. You need to get perspective on something, see the forest for the tree(s), transcend the tree(s) and thus see it in context of the whole Forest. That's really all.

For example, to really "know" pleasure, joy, perfect happiness and ultimate bliss, you need to face and transcend their opposites. To know anything at full depth, you must confront its opposite. At that point you don't need them anymore.

All opposites ultimately co-depend, and are one.

If you've known total pleasure and bliss, inside and out, you know what true misery and suffering is.

If you've known real sorrow in your life, you *know* true happiness.

To know fame, fortune and total success in life -- is to know loneliness, poverty and abject failure.

To "know" life totally, to truly live -- is to know death, to have an intimate familiarity with it.

To know a single other person, inside and out, is to know yourself.

And to know yourself totally, inside and out, is to know everyone, to have a complete insight into the human heart.

If you want to "know" something, really "get" it at the level of transcendence, check out its opposite -- whatever that may be. Don't bother with the "something" itself.

It isn't itself.

Peace...

Hello again. This should have come before the previous two entries. It's to fill the gap since my previous posts. I got married. And various other slightly less significant stuff. . .

I hadn't blogged for a while. The last software for BL blogs disagreed with me. It was the restricted entry size that bugged me. Recently, lots has happened so I wanted to write some of it up. Sometimes amusing or at least slightly interesting stuff occurs giving me pause for private thought. I shall endeavour to share some of these things, and a load of other stuff as I recall.

I need to wind back the clock a year or two. . .
I proposed to sweet P October 5th 2010, the day of my birthday in fact. P had set up a little surprise for me. I'd thought we should go for a spin to the White Horse (a pretend Neolithic chalk hill figure on the edge of the Moors). She said she needed to go somewhere to do something first. We set off to a village on her erand, where we stoppped outside the door of a large stone-built barn. A man came up and slid the doors open to reveal a stupendous line up of sports cars. An MGB, a Chevrolet Camaro, various ridiculous Rolls and Bentleys, and Alfa Romeo and a Triumph TR6. I got to choose one for the day. I was going to propose anyway that day, but the red TR6 as well really clinched it.

That year developed into a fairly hectic plunge towards the singularity of our wedding day (Sept 2011)
. At various times during the year, we had one or two hiccups. I hadn't quite appreciated, in my ignorance, quite what was involved in setting up a wedding, nor how much it would energise my Mrs to be. We gradually formulated a somewhat chaotic plan and by the last week before, achieved a kind of tranquility borne by the knowledge that little else could be done by then. I owe her a lot for the detailed stuff she dealt with, and most of the organisation.

During tht year, I had 3 bumper harvests with Dutch Passions White Widdow. I am currently puffing on the last batch. Ten patient weeks flowering resulted in four excessively tall, but amply loaded plants. The final two weeks brought dense crystal trichomes out in multitude. In two kilner jars, it's acruing a delicious aroma. A couple of dry spells passed by without too much craving or insomnolence. I can't be bothered to read so much without smoke around. Nor do I get too excited by practising or listening to music without. This seems a slightly unfortunate thing.

On two occasions, I got out of hand with some RC empathogens. I suspect that I behave compulsively with these materials (Specifically 5/6APB this time). I tried them both in my long running quest for empathogenic satisfaction. On both occasions, two grams were used over the space of a week. I noticed no particular difference between the two, though the comparrison is weak over the 6 month gap between them. Higher initial doses do not make a better peak. My sweet spot was probably 150 to 180mgs. Shulgin style boosting did not noticeably prolong the plateau. I spoiled initial positive feelings with futile further redoses. Got a bit disgusted with myself and after finishing the first batch, swore off the stuff. As I said, six months later, had another go with simillar results. Trouble was, that was about a month before my wedding. The fallout from these kinds of binges are usually hard to spot. My whole mindset is usually in a state of compensation for some or other neurological deficiency or other. I actually seem to get by OK like this usually. However while all the basic automatic behaviours and functions were mostly fine, stuff where I had to process, remember etc, was a bit more tricky. Luckily these problems had eased up by the wedding.

The drugs I really enjoy and approve of, were off the menu for a while. I have nice range of tryptamines on chill in the freezer, including a lifetime sized portion of DMT, my personal favorite. But with the wedding coming, I decided to leave the heavy mindbending be for a while. Sadly, I didn't resist the alure of 5/6APB. I also got two g of AMT again, after having had a enjoyed a gram 4 years ago, without getting habitual about it. I enjoy occasional euphoric trippiness with AMT, but not when I need to be at work the next day. Recently I have decided to avoid any medium/strong AMT doses. Frankly, it gives me a stinker behind the eyes at psychedelic/empathogenic doses. A sub threshold dose seem to put a sunny tint on my demeanour for a few days. Soviet antidepressants.

I now have two nephews courtesy of my middle younger brother and his fiancee. Last weekend P and Iwere asked to be Godparents to the youngest. Mum and dad are getting older and dearer. They werea great help with the wedding arrangements. Dad didn't seem keen to put on a suit again, especially one of such distinct formal grandeur. Anyway, me and the seemstress gave him a cheer of approval when he revealed himself from the changing room. He looked superb and realised it I suspect.

My no1 younger bro was best man. I lumbered him there a bit since like me, he is not very keen on public stuff etc. However, though I have several good close mates, my bro is the one who has always been available, never too judgemental, and supportive as required. My youngest bro was a major help in organising things. We asked him to chaufeur us on the day in a dark green vintage Jaguar.

The day of our wedding came last September 17, and things went beautifully. The British isles were enjoying turbulent weather due to the tail end of the sytem that caused upset NY the previous month. But over the church, sunny blue skies remained, an island of fine weather. I made the vows I should have made years ago to my beautiful wife. Since then, our bond has grown ever stronger.
It's now February and I have started to feel like blogging again. This entry is a kind of catch up / scene setting excercise.
Peace Pipp.

Our educational system, our society, our upbringings, even our day to day existence as members of the human race are focused on objectivity and geared toward objectivity.

Knowing more and more about "what's out there in the world", expanding our horizons, learning, traveling, exploring, meeting new people, etc.

Even subjectivity is approached from a objective angle. People go to a therapist, who is assumed to know objective things about the way people think, behave, feel and operate, and can thus help them.

They occasionally read self-help books.. which, if they were really self-help, would not be coming in from others. That's still help from others, not self-help. There is no such thing as self-help, nor any actual need for self-help.

It seems here that people do not know who they really are, and I'd even dare say most do not even have a clue what actual subjectivity is.

The 'subject', self, me... it's supposed to be your body, walking around in the world, right? So why is that so similar to a car, driving around on the street -- an *object*?

The self, me... a body/mind in the world. A perceivable thing. Treat me right. Feed me. Give my all of your attention.

--> So if I'm walking around in the world, fed, attended to, given money, etc. an *object existing in the universe* -- who/what is the *subject*, self, perceiver?

We'll look at this further in another message.

In case you are concerned, no animals were harmed during the proceedings I now describe. . .
B----y (his nickname) is a very likeable collegue at Royal Mail, who I spend considerable time working near. He has a slightly grumpy exterior, but it's underopinned with a weary sense of humour and irony. He is stocky, in his mid forties and about 5'8" height, with slightly magnifying spectacles. Although he is not particularly overweight really, he is frequently accused of having eaten all the pies. We both bike home in the same direction and I occasionally threaten to buy the last pasty in the bunshop should I reach it before him.
He was brought up on the west side of town around where we deliver, and I frequently bump into his dad, also a former postie.
We talk about his family sometimes, and he is obviously proud of his 20 something daughter now studying at University. When he refers to his wife, he is usually describing one of her shortcomings, such as the fact that she is not keen on cooking, or still won't learn to drive. I get the impression that their relationship is something of a begrudging companionship.

We occasionally accuse him of being in a grumpy mood on some mornings, despite him not actually being so. This will annoy him gradually until it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy of a sort. He seems to thrive on gentle wind up manouvres.
In his teens/twenties he was a reasonably promising rugby player until he crunched his knee and had to lay off it. He tells me that it still gives him grief these days. When out on the job, I have met many retired folk asking how the 'postman lad that used to play rugby with my son' is. B----y's still fondly remembered.

Yesterday he had to report a minor dog attack during his round. He was overheard explaining that the dog was 'like it was rabid'. Thanks to our native Yorkshire accents, the word 'Rabid' was misheard as 'rabbit' by another collegue. Well, that was it. Before long a widespread rumour had spread that B----y was reporting that he had been attacked by a rabbit. A whole host of admittedly childish but nonetheless amusing jokes began generating from this almost plausible scenario. Indeed there are many incidents which seem ridiculous when recorded on an accident report form, such as getting one's hand stuck in a letter-box, for example. All day, B----y was met with the greeting 'What's up Doc?'
He bore his tribulations with the usual combination of dignity, interspersed with handing out occasional duffings up.
On other occasions, customer complaints come in which seem bizarre or borderline loony. One collegue asked a lady if he could use her lavatory, to which she was agreed. He must have been having a nasty time because the following day, a complaint had been logged that his deposit would not negotiate the U-bend. Our managers showed great profesionality in their understanding of confidetiality by posting a photocopy on the notice board.

It is events and people such as these that help pass the ups and downs of life.

I'm currently messing with a-PVP (a legal RC stim similar to MDPV) and am getting a little too fascinated by my own thoughts .

This is generally a sign that thought-reality wants to take over perceptual-reality and decide what is to happen, and I'm merely posting this as a self-reminder that needs to be noted -- as well as maybe something interesting for anyone reading this who isn't familiar with stimulant use.

Stop thinking. Do something concrete. Knock it off, get some sleep. Cool beans.

At some point your thoughts become really interesting, then really important, then vitally important, then "vitally important/fascinating, regardless of content".

In the past things have gotten weird at that point -- I'll start to examine the alphabet, which letter comes after which other letter, compare the alphabet song to the way the letters sound, then start to see patterns that are not there and believe that I am perceiving a hidden reality based on sounds and word associations.

Such as "The letter is in the mail". "The let-her is in the male". I am the male. She's "someone in my mind"... suddenly there are two people.

She's the "me" and I'm the "I". There are two of us here inside consciousness. She's trying to communicate, and I have to "let her" LOL...

This got ridiculous the last time I messed with a-PVP... the song "Ay, Beee, Ceee, Deee, Eeee, F, Geeee" started to turn into "Ev-ry chi-ld, ev-ry onnnne....." by some unknown association, and then I was certain I had died and was in an afterlife, remembering the alphabet falsely, and the "Ev-ry child, every one" was the way the song really went.

Following that I was dumb enough to go outside, noticeably wacky.

This is how stimulants get nutty -- via scatter, disassociation and false associations. It usually doesn't happen unless sleep deprivation is involved too... that's the pivotal axis that turns reality over onto its adam's apple and creates a dream falsehood you believe you're living.

The point that you're lost is when you forget you're taking them at all, and just keep doing it without being conscious of doing it. You're in deep sh*t then .

I don't even want to remember what happened last time with a-pvp... one of the most hellish stim "runs" I've experienced in the 30 or so years destiny has been putting these substances in my path. I didn't lose touch with reality. There wasn't one.

Dopamine receptors don't care, tho. They have no memory, can't think or reason, don't feel emotions and don't know anything. They are bio-chemical. They are simple. "Administer". "Repeat". "WOO!"

And why the hell not?

I accept all experiences, events and things that happen, as they occur, and enjoy them for what they are *unconditionally*. I love everything, even when it sucks. The way I operate is SO simple, and the only time I'm crazy enough to try and explain it in words is times like now. I doubt anyone will understand... I seek nothing, and fear nothing.

Peace....

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Random Thought-of-the-moment: I've always liked words. Words, as mathematics to some people, always made sense to me.

----

I have encountered the most profound of problems in my day-to-day life: I become entirely, thoroughly, disablingly bored with life and its options. Sometimes, I'll struggle to comprehend the thought of spending another sixteen hours awake without some kind of stimulation - something to look forward to. It's driven me to thoughts of using diamorphine plenty a time in the recent weeks.

And, honestly, I feel like I exhaust every option. Browsing the web, DJ'ing a bit/looking for new tracks, reading, smoking a hookah and listening to music, art, daydreaming... none of it interests me for too long and, before noon has arrived, I've exhausted my list of "reasons to be awake" for the day!

Taking larger amounts of benzodiazepines and smoking to fill those empty hours has taken its toll, too, and I worry about that a lot. I just finished with alcohol as it was dominating my life for these very reasons.

I've been hiding this internal battle with addictions motivations from my girlfriend, with whom I live in close quarters, because of her lack of honest exposure to the more gritty natures of substance use/abuse. I'm proud of her diligence and restraint, and encourage it - however, it's truly tough hiding these internal urges from someone so close to you because of fear of reprisal.

And heroin seems so forgiving.

(8))

I'm a tad mixed up right now; each day seems no better than the next, and I'm sure it's not the result of some latent depressive symptoms. If it were, I'd be aware.

Keeping oneself busy is more difficult than it sounds. But I'm beginning to think that applies to just about everything these days.

~ vaya

Hello!
I am a new member of blue light and just wanted to share the crazy story as to why I decided to go onto bluelight. Amazing story but, long story short, I was at a rave getting water with my friend and we were having a conversation about using gas masks to smoke. Off of just hearing our conversation, a girl approached us and asked my friend if he blogged on blue light. Amazing to say that just off of hearing my friend talk and his funny stories about gas masks this random girl was able to pick up on the fact that he was an active blogger on blue light.
I literally was standing their thinking, "what the fuck." Anyways... that was a crazy experience and just thought that it was time that I join blue light. So hello everyone

-Blitz

Whats your fav Benzo? Rank and give reasons why.

I have been visiting Bluelight for quite a while now (year or so) and have always gotten useful info. I have been using prescription painkillers (anything i could get) for about 2 1/2 years pretty consistently. About a year ago, I was introduced to this Amazing/enslaving drug called Opana8) I was hooked!! Over the past few months I have really struggled with this addiction. I went through full-blown withdrawals for 3 or 4 days (it was a blur) and felt like a new woman when a made it through; then 2 weeks later I convenced myself that I could go back to using recreationaly (who was I kidding?) and needless to say I was back where I started. I found out that two of my friends who used with me fairly often decided it was time to get clean because it was "taking over their lives." As I said before, I had been struggling with this addiction for a while at this point, not only physicaly but mentaly/emotionaly. I truly didnt want every day of my life to be based on whether I had my fix or not. I spent so much time praying that maybe God would just take the desire to use away, and of course, that did not happen (you reap what you sow )...Ok, back to my friends...They told me they had access to some Subs and BOOM!!! my light at the end of the tunnel finaly appeared!!! You have to reallize that out of all the drugs i have access to, that is the HARDEST to find. I jumped all over it and bought two. I could not believe how amazing it is. I started going into w/d's two days ago (tuesday); 12 hours after my last dose and was sick from that moment until late afternoon on Wed. It is Thurday and I feel Brand New again (Cheesy, I know . My plan is to only be on Subs for a week simply because although I was addicted, my habit is not as severe as many others; however, it was still no life to live....work my ass off and continue to be strapped for money. I have a son who needs his mother at 100%, 100% of the time.
I'm blogging about this to help others, but to also help myself because we are all fellow users or ex-users, and everyone here knows what its like to be where I am at some point and time. I will continue to keep blogging about this experience.
*~*Red*~*

There is this bitch at work who has been stirring trouble for me. Unfortunately she's a bitch who has a lot of control as she is the only one who knows how to do the accounts. So she decided she didn't like me, and has since been threatening to leave if i dont. Even though i never did anything to cause her to dislike me.

Today she had a long meeting with the boss. This led to my dismissal under no grounds other than she gave them no choice. And I hadn't been there a year yet so can't even do anything about it. On the positive side I'm getting 3 weeks severence pay so it's not dire but jobs are hard to come by now so I doubt i'll find one easily.

This sort of thing is the reason i don't get on with most women. Why is it people like that get away with behaving this way.

Safe to say I'm taking a break from my break from drugs tonight.

I miss heroin. It's touch and go over here and I am sick of withdrawls. I'm cut off and the docs are on to me. I have no relief. I can get tons of benzos, but it displaces my depression meds. Fuck, being an addict is GREAAAT/HORRIBLE!

Russia had "tovarish" (comrade), now America has "solidarity."

Neglect of poverty and people in it, as well as a drug war that has pitted people in government directly against all ranks of our society (but mostly the poorest, and hence, ethnic), has created a state where politicians and police departments are entirely disconnected from any wishes or grievances of the majority of their constituents.

They proved this in gruesome detail:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZ05rWx1pig
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AdDLhPwpp4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRvcEQ0_iEQ
and those are just the pepper spray incidents!

When hedge funds make more in an hour than any of us make in a year, we are left to fight over the remainder of the pie, dividing us amongst ourselves (one of those divisions being between the police and the poor). Meanwhile, the top 1% can easily throw a few million dollars here and take out a few politicians, or manipulate billion dollar markets and take out entire countries (like Greece, whose assets are now being sold as greek people lose their sovereignty), to increase their power. For example, the NYPD got paid millions of dollars from JP Morgan *during the protests* with mass arrests following.

That is what happens in an oligarchy, a police state, an authoritarian dictatorship. WHATEVER YOUR POLITICS, left or right, this is bad news for all of us.

I've already linked the bad news. The good news is that the occupy movement still stands because of numbers. Over 1,000 cities in the U.S. and double that in the world have large occupy protests, and it's all about your say (everybody has a chance to speak at general assemblies, and general assembly consensus dictates the actions of the occupy movement--there are no leaders).

All of these protests are linked on the internet, and many are linked sending supplies and personnel to each other. You may have thought otherwise if you've been watching any cable news from inside the United States, but this movement has huge potential and staying power.

The best way to help is to at least go check out the protest site at your town and talk to them. Bringing any blankets, food items, donations etc is also helpful. Many cities have a general assembly each night, and GA's are fascinating to witness--they are "what democracy looks like," literally. I highly recommend stopping by during a GA.

What kind of country are we, and what can you do about it? Are you going to go on pretending that you cannot influence politics, or will you speak up and stand in solidarity with those on Wall Street and the rest of the United States?

Glider

Ive been off Methadone almost a year now. I know I should be proud of this. After the fifth year, I wasn't sure I would ever make it out. Especially when O would chase my tablets with a Roxy. And them some more Roxy's... And then some more... And although I still use, I can honestly say I'm better. I don't wake up a go to the clinic everyday. I don't do anything everyday... Now, I still constantly crave it, mentally. Opiates. That euphoric, sexy, confident feeling that washes over me when
I release the tourniquet and slide the rig out. Seeing the little drop of blood pool in the bend of the arm.
Anyway.
I'm worried I'll never be as happy as I once was completely, head-over-heels addicted to opiates. Even though I was a worse person then...sneaky, dishonest, totally FUCKED UP in a sad "morals and values" sort of way... I've never been more confident. I had less social anxiety. I was involved at work. I worked 50 to 60 hour work weeks only to be barely scraping by when it came to my finances. I spent all my money on drugs. Have nothing to show for it but this mental "funk" that I've been stuck in for months and months. I just don't understand what's wrong with me. Will I ever want to join the rest of the world again? Did I ever want to in the first place?

I am new to clen use. I want to use it for weight loss. I would like to get some dosage and cycle info. I need to loose quite a bit of weight. I have bad back issues and can not do a lot of exercise. the less I weigh the more I can do. Can anyone help me out?

Continues. . .
So if someone who knows about psychedelics looks at my book shelf, they are all there to see on the top shelf, for the curious. From the wacky to the sceptic. I am broadly informed but the collection does not necessarily reflect my opinion. I wouldn't want them to think I was a full on Ayahuasca exponent for example, with all the ritualistic belief systems and paraphernalia. I have read plenty about it, and went as far as visiting a Shaman outside Iquitos in Peru to experience an authentic setting. I greatly respect it on a cultural level, and my Peruvian encounter reflected the setting and it's archetypes. But it wasn't my own culture. My first literary Yage encounter was courtesy of W.S Burroughs. I have used Ayahuasca and some analogues a few times. I prefer to use Moclobemide instead of plant MAOI and synthetic DMT to reach an Ayahuasca like head-space now, avoiding the unpredictable and sometimes quite gruelling side effects of the original. I know there is some kind of sublime lesson happening during the purge sometimes. Stages of initial resistance and fear, gradually replaced by acceptance and perhaps even peace with the immanent irresistible barfing that will soon follow. And then when it sometimes lasts for minutes, you have time to think a myriad or parallel consecutive thoughts during a single retch. At that point some remarkably resilient part of my mind is still chuckling at my predicament, and the innate comedy of existence.
I prefer a gentler ride usually. I don't object to extreme mental phenomenon too much, having managed to mostly accept and ride out heavier moments. A whole load of psycho-babble type cliches spring to mind such as: 'There is nothing to fear but fear itself', amongst others. I like to think on lyrics from the Beatles' 'Tomorrow Never Knows', themselves taken from Leary/Alpert/Metzner's 'The Psychedelic Experience'. My preferred materials provide me with plenty/enough to think about.

I pre-ordered Pinchbeck's second book, but felt in all honesty that he'd gone from one extreme to another. I couldn't help feeling it described a slide away from rationality and heightened awareness toward a kind ofself centred mania. The last part of the book concerned a great deal of 'Channelling' and doom-saying, particularly with regard to predictions of great change from 2012 onwards. With respect, I'm not holding my breath, although the year is still young.

Other authors in the field I have read include Stanislav Grof, who has pioneered forms of LSD psychotherapy. Many of his ideas appealed to me on an intuitive level, but I have a problem with past life experience claims. I just find that, as with most paranormal claims, to my mind, if there were verifiable and repeatable evidence, they would long since have been dissected by scientific method. This is not always the case, but just in an overwhelming proportion of cases. The remaider are, to paraphrase Arthur C Clark, forms of science which we as yet do not understand. His ideas seem underpinned by an assumption of truth regarding some slightly empirically dubious hypotheses. And yet I have to acknowledge a mental place that is beyond the deterministic external reality. As stated before, I just think you can't bring anything back from it that violates the parameters of normal external reality. I do believe you can feel like you have been extremely close, adjacent even. I have had many experiences that have hinted tantalisingly at that. Because I like LSD, although I'm seldom fortunate enough to acquire it, I gave Grof a fair reading. The books aren't that cheap, but I was not massively smitten. The psychotherapy approach was interesting and applicable to some of the emotional housework I sometimes do with chemical assistance.

If you did persevere with all that you are in my cool book. If not, I understand. Anyway I can rattle on about my obsession to my hearts content here it seems. Sometime my posts will be long and rambling, like the above. Other times they are liable to be colourful and hopefully interesting, like when I try a new material, or something else sparks my enthusiasms. Part of my reason for writing is to help me formulate my ideas, so I must apologise for inconsistencies over time.
Peace - Pipp

In the dining room, at one end is a fireplace, whose alcove now holds the hifi with a vintage turntable on the top. Its brown cork platter usually has something old on it. Today it was a mono copy of Ella Fitzgerald classics on Verve from '61. It included two beautiful duets from work she did with Duke Ellington.

Either side of the chimney breast are two columns of book shelves holding about a third of my library. These are the ones I like to dip into occasionally, or to remind me of what I've read. I smoke too much weed to really remember everything, so if I am thinking about a topic, I'll have to reach for some tome or other to put myself straight. They are arranged according to topic area mostly but some of the big pictorial books have to go on the big shelf at the bottom. I've read all of them there, except for maybe the newest aquisitions which I am cueing up.

I tend to keep my more obscure books high up in order not to alarm curious visitors. I have a big set of books about psychedelics. That category does not really do them justice. They range from rational scientific analysis to the mystical and all shades in between. This is my problem. I have read up on both sides
of the arguments but find myself edging towards the sceptical with regard to the mystical end. I am convinced of the utility of psychedelic experience at some psycho-spiritual level. But, I tend not to subscribe gurus or want to subsume the things I have observed to the ideas of another.

I have one Terrence McKenna book on the shelf, (The Archaic Revival), a kind of sampler. I've heard a few of his lectures and like his eloquence on matters that for most us are hard to integrate and describe. However I do not subscribe to his particular personal rationale of them. His self transforming machine elves did not seem apparent when I first got a proper hit of DMT. However I later began to see how I could overlay my own experience on top of the features McKenna describes. In my heart I felt that this was more about the plasticity of the experiential data, than the absolute truth of his interpretation. To be honest, his inter-stellar internet type scenarios are to my mind manifestations of his hopes and aspirations for the future of mankind. There I do not blame him. I frequently entertain simillar thought experiments myself when under the influence.

If a friend asked for a good book to start finding out about psychelics, I'd send them to Daniel Pinchbeck's 'Breaking Open The Head'. Here someone of a more sceptical standoint than myself finds his concept of reality and spirituality broadened through a variety of materials. It's exciting vivid stuff at times, and was the spark of interest for me. I ordered P/Tihkal and began to get stuck in. Reading these (OK the fictionalised biographical sections + the reports then later, other bits) I felt a tinge of jealousy at the fortune of those who had tasted these substances, alongside a kind of sadness at the seeming impossibility of obtaining them. However, the lively online discussion these drugs suggested to me that there was a hope. Soon after, I started googling obscure compound formuli names latching onto a small HK outfit who were expensive, but did send what they were paid for. Tha rest is partially documented in reports online. P/Tihkal are two that I like and reflect kinds of values I concur with.

I recently bought 'Journeys Into the Bright World' by Marcia Moore and her hubsband Howard Alltounian. Soon after beginning I realised that they were both fairly obsessed with astrology and I felt a kind of distance form. As though I expected all their accounts to be informed by a viewpoint to which I don't subscribe. The book was interesting and well written and I finished it. It was all the more poignant given that she eventually appears to have come to grief courtesey of her D.O.C. The book doesn't reflect my psychedelic sensibilities too much. Again, the vista is a manifestation of the authors' personal historical grande set and setting. Different to mine. I'm not trying to be difficult here, because I have to be willing to accept that I may be on the wrong track myself.

For a book that appealed more to my rational perceptions, I recommend 'Psychedelic Information Theory' by James L. Kent. It is as rigorous as any sincere enquirer could be in applying understandable concepts to describe a possible mechanism by which normal consciousnes and the altered states might come about. His theory describes neurological processes and a brain wave based model to account for coherence and decoherence of experience. On some intuitive level this appeared to reflect some of my own leanings. I also liked his unpretentious writing style. The revealing of the hierarchy of concepts and ideas experienced while tripping resembles a kind of leakage from the subconscious. I do find that the deeper I go, the broader the catgories of phenomena and archetypes become, until a kind of unity of being is sensed. This is where I have to retain a slightly mystic element in my own conception. If you've read this far, I humbly encourage you to carry on a little more at least.

I have lots of popular science books and a few more heavier. I can handle a little maths with my leisured enquiry. I had a really good bash at 'A brief history of time' but had to acknowled defeat at about halfway. I love Richard Feynmann, whose little paperback lecture bits have given me great pleasure and moments of really tangible clarity about matters of a nonintuitive nature. I like Dawkins' books, though his hard line seems a little unnecessary to my sentiment. I entertained the possibility that he might be the agent of a benevolent God, sent to steer the good ship Humanity away from the rocks of idiocy. I would love to put that to him sometime. I tend to default to believe in an ingrained God being quite often, brought up as I was C. of E. However, I feel quite at liberty to doubt in the main, a property of the enquiring mind I was given. It might even be a holy duty.

What I'm saying is that I have absolute faith in science to hypothetically explain everything external to consciousness(Given, perhaps an infiniteley long piece of ticker tape in the metaphorical Turing machine and the rest of time). It also will conquer the mystery of the computational magic silently and efficiently taking place between our ears at all times. The point where these potentially explainable phenomenon of reality interface with the little dude in the cockpit looking out - (I, Me, You) - seems to be the exceptional phenomenon. All biological phenomena appear ultimately accounted for by processes of evolution (informed by some of the newer refinements to Darwin's model). However the evolutionary necessity of consciousness is not clearly determined. The thought experiment of Zombies comes to mind. It would be hypothetically possible to imagine a nonconscious brain being able perform all the survival jobs of a conscious brain, but without the 'me' jumping in and declaring "I did that" all the time. I do seem to be mainly conscious most of the time, although that may not appear to be the case to my Mrs sometimes. Cogito Ergo. What reason is there for the privilege it is to hitch a conscious ride on this splendid body thing I find myself looking out from. . . A divine gift? Now I'm getting mystical.

When deeply altered, it occurs to me that my conscious mind space is a three dimensional void into which anything goes. I am not so much directly creating the content, rather it appears to burst into awareness under its own occasionally astounding force, such as with vapourised DMT. There is a vibrance and vital intensity in the experience which hints at the possible immortality of consciousness. I have no material evidence for such speculation. You never get to bring any magical data back, like next weeks pool results or an undiscovered sequence of prime numbers. But the feeling is of having been tantalisingly close to the singularity where everything always is all together as one.
All these speculations say little about the external world. They are manifestations of my own grande set and setting as much as anyone else's. That's roughly where I am with it all.
PTO continued. .

I have a thing for my shrink. However, I'm realistic and know that it's not happening because of ethics and other obvious reasons. I never let her know nor will I. I decided to stop going and move onto someone different without discussing it with her. I know this is normal and often called transference. However, I don't always think transference is the case. I've been to different therapists and shrinks and haven't felt that for them. So, I don't really think it's about this person listening to me. I have moved on which I think was the best move as I know she was able to tell I had a thing for her. Where my issue is, she helped me alot with things so I'm kind of bummed that I had to move on. Just wanting to get opinions as to whether you think this was a good move to not discuss it with her. I know this kind of thing happens alot. I just think there's no point in having the conversation as I'm just there to get meds. There's no time to work through the issue and it just seems pointless.

I have been doing practically nothing except watching movies for the last four days. Today, besides work, I had to present an integration of some free CRM running on ASP (yeah sure) for the company where I work.

I thought "wtf I'm still young" (26y) and decided to keep awake all the night before work searching for the damn CRM. I did 400mg Modafinil straight, a large bottle of coffee, and some phenylalanine pills (precusors to Dopamine).
I also did like 8mg 2C-E, half taken orally and half taken nasally.

Well, it took me like 4 hours, (plus I wasn't very focused, but I was very awake) but I found two CRM that could work. I jumped to the server and remotely installed the damn web apps. The first one didn't work, probably a database problem, I don't know, I couldn't trace the error, I'm still learning how IIS 7 works. Anyway, my heart was pumping up strong (I mean, I would put my fingers on my neck and felt the pulse, which obviously was fast, but also "strong", very strong), so I decided to take 1ug Clonidine, 75mg Lyrica and 1mg Xanax. It worked like a charm.

The second CRM worked, I would prefered the first one, it was more lite and like super open source, this was kinda open source too, but not really. Anyway, I configured the damn thing. Though the server was missing a lot of maintenance, the CRM for our company with oh my god, OUR LOGO!, was working well (although it was a little slow because, you know, in ASP.NET pages have to be compiled if not precompiled).
Whatever? btw, listening to awesome music all this time helped me a lot.
It was 3 AM. I was done with the work (well, I could continue, but the important part was working).
At 7.20 AM I had to wake up, dress, and go to work. What to do? keep awake or... try to sleep?
There was no way I could sleep on 400mg Modafinil and 8mg 2C-E... right? right?

Well, I know that if I had no sleep at all I would feel like a zombie during the day, so I tried to sleep. This is what I did:
I took 2mg Xanax, 75mg Lyrica, a hot tea, a cookie (only one), closed the windows, and put this little program that makes the sound of like it's raining outside in my iPhone.
Sleeping was impossible. I was still hard, so I take another 2mg Xanax, 1mg of it sub lingually (the taste was horrible, but I have tasted worse things ).
The tension of my whole body was decreasing, but my mind was still strongly focused on things because of the 2C-E (not Modafinil, I could definitely feel it). No matter what I would think about, I would not sleep.
So for the sake of trying, I strongly focused my mind in the sound of the falling rain. I thought I was at this house in the mountains and outside was very cold and raining. Honestly, my mind went with the flow faster than I expected, I began to felt more and more relaxed. I could not believe it, was this the power of the mind toying with the 2C-E?
Well, around 3.30AM was the last time I remember looking up. I wake up super ultra relaxed with my heart rate perfect (not my muscles tough) at 5.50 AM.
I was so happy, I achieved slept like 2 hours or something, take that stims, take that 2C-E! I want to think I fooled the drug, I like to think it works in some way that when I focused in something so relaxing as rain falling it temporarily moved all my worries and thoughts to a temporal folder in my brain.
And why I'm so sure about this? well, the raining program was programmed to automatically work only 1 hour 45 minutes. More or less the time I slept.
Maybe I'm still high on 2C-E, I don't know, I somewhat feel something funny in my head, but... who knows 8)

Well, my work being done, and me with 1.5-2 hours of sleep was enough to make me really happy. I tried to sleep a little more, but my neck was killing me (as I said, my muscles never relaxed completely).
So, I wake up, take 400mg Modafinil more, 1mg Xanax, some phenylalanine pills, a Coffee pill, some Pepsi, and a cookie.

And I began writing this without problem whatsoever.
I'll post this now, though I'll update it later and write how I did during the day.
I'll probably have to take 200mg more Modafinil, and lots of Coffee -including Red Bull and that shit-. And maybe some 2C-E more before going to work to extend the duration of the Modafinil.

Well, I think it was an interesting post, toying with the 2C-E on Modafinil to sleep, and achieving it. The reason, the rain falling and all that mind playing.

Hope the day goes fine...

Peace!

...I'm back! alive and kicking it!

I had an excellent day at work, too good in fact. I completed some tasks I had many troubles since weeks ago. I did take 6mg 2C-E orally in the morning before going to work, and 200mg Modafinil more in the afternoon, which helped me to stay awake but wasn't very intense. But it worked.

Everything was almost perfect. I wish all days would be like these... or not.. anyway, I am scoring some Codeine in an hour so I will enjoy myself as it corresponds with some Xanax and Lyrica

Peace!!

Lately I've been burning bridges once again. Why? Because I care about drugs more than anything else at this point. All I want to do is get high or drunk until one day its all over and inside I keep hoping for that day to be soon... Even though I know I should say fuck it all and keep on living the right way because what I am doing now is not living at all. I'm slowly killing myself each day and all I want to know is why don't I care? My mother confronted my friend and I today about our drinking and use of drugs... Well that ended up with me yelling at her and causing her to cry, she even left the house. It was pretty bad and the sad thing is I know I'm in the wrong but I won't ever admit that to her. I should be happy she cares but instead I'm a selfish bitch who treats her own mother like shit when she doesn't deserve to be treated that way.

Also my best friend who I consider my sister has been distant these past days. I even texted her and shit but she never replied or answered my calls. I finally called her today and she told me how much she is worried about me... How she thought I was done with doing stupid shit. Also how she even thought about not being friends with me and my other friend (the one who I tend to do a lot of dumb shit with/one my mom confronted). She told me she wants me to stop because she doesn't want me to die. She told me she doesn't understand why I didn't think twice about my actions especially after I got a gun pulled out on me. She also told me she knows that I'm only going to stop when I want to and that I'm going to keep on doing what I want and that she will accept that but doesn't know if she can be my friend anymore if I do.

So of course I lied. I told her I want to and will stop with stupid shit. I also lied and said that I wasn't being serious about how I think I'm going to die soon.... The truth though is that I don't want to stop. I'm not going to stop, at least not now but she doesn't need to know that. So I told her that I will see her tomorrow and we can talk about everything. She was happy with what I said but I feel terrible because I'm lying to my best friend and she doesn't even know. I consider her my sister and we've been through so much shit but I still decide to lie to her. I still choose to possibly compromise this amazing friendship just because I want to get high. She even told me I know where this is going to end if I continue on with using and that all my friends will be gone and I'm not even going to have family there for me... And of course I know she's right but that's still not going to stop me. I told her if I lose her then I know I'm definitely going to be dead by 21... Honestly my friends are the reason why I'm still here but each day I get closer and closer to losing them which makes me wonder why I'm still using drugs then?

I get closer and closer to losing everything I have and all the people I love. I'm losing my dreams and ambitions. I'm losing the meaning of why I'm here. Instead I use and watch time pass by before my eyes. Time that I can never get back. Moments and memories I will never have because I'm out getting high or sleeping away the days and nights. I'm not sure what I expect to come out of this because clearly nothing will. So I hope I can fix up this mess I created.. Get out of this hole I dug but I feel like there's no point in trying right now. I feel as if it will be pointless because I don't necessarily want to get clean just yet. Something is still telling me to continue doing what I'm doing and then I hear another thing saying stop now. So until I only hear that voice telling me to stop I'm not going to bother because I can force myself to stop using or go to na meetings (like a friend suggested/well was telling me to go to today and I lied and said I would but I didn't lol) but I'm not going to because I know I will just fall back into the same old habits eventually. I know that because the voice saying continue on, fuck life, is going to still be there. I know they say it will always be there but right now its louder than normal and I'm still not strong enough to say no to it.

And until I'm ready to do that I'll keep doing what I'm doing. I can't lie to myself and make myself believe I can just stop now because I can't; I don't want to. Hopefully I can keep myself alive and not burn anymore bridges before I can attempt to get my life in order. Just hopefully....but even then if I do then it will probably just make leaving even more easier.