PART 1
Phase 1: The calm before the storm
At 3pm, A and I take ~75mg MDMA each and carry on eating. Within ten minutes my appetite is gone and I discard my burger; A’s appetite is unaffected and she continues eating. After a while, we both become slightly restless, and proceed to a local shop to buy water, where I begin to feel a warm glow surging through my body while standing in the queue. This builds into a subtle, relaxed state with significantly elevated mood, though I can forget I’m under the influence at rimes. It feels good to be outdoors. By a little before half 4, the feelings have subsided a bit, and A has felt virtually nothing at all. We dose the 21mg 2C-B capsules at around 4:30, and get ready for what’s ahead.
Which is, for starters, nothing. After half an hour, when I would usually feel it, I notice absolutely no change in visual or physical perception; A notes none either. After 45 minutes I feel a slight buzz in my limbs, and every now and then notice a wave of unspecific trippiness, with no notable visuals or twisted thoughts, but rather a sense that something is about to happen. These waves materialise for a few seconds every few minutes, building into a sort of vaguely inebriated state by around 5:30, when the effects begin to level. A falls asleep in the sun. I begin to feel a little disappointed, and consider redosing a further quarter capsule, but I’m wary about measuring the amount outdoors, and I don’t want to redoes while A is asleep anyway.
By 6pm I am a little bored, so wake up A. She sits up, comments that she remembered some slight CEVs and a sense of something happening before she fell asleep. Then she stops, and looks around…
“Something’s definitely different to before…” she says, a smile emerging on her face.
Phase 2: The beginning
At first, I notice no difference, and decide I am going to redoes if nothing has happened by half past. A notes a ‘shimmering’ effect to the trees, and says when she stops concentrating seems to see the world as a series of snapshot tracers instead of a flowing image, but that she can still easily snap out of it, and that it’s subtle even when present. Fifteen minutes later I’m experiencing similar effects, but it is mild compared to my previous experiences. I decide to reconsider taking more, though, and let the chemical flow through my body.
A notes the visuals seem more pronounced when wearing her sunglasses, so I borrow them in order to try to kickstart the trip. It works to some extent: colours seem brighter and light more contrastive, and even though I’m aware this is probably just the shading of the glasses, it makes me feel better anyway. Someone kicks a ball in the distance and slight tracers appear behind it. Both of us begin to feel very giggly, and A begins to throw grass on the barbecue.
“Since we were eating the cows a few hours ago, it only seems fair to cook them something to eat as well.”
“What if the cows are all angry?” I ask. “What if they all stampede around us and try to eat us instead?” This seems incredibly humorous to me, but A is less amused, it spinning her into an unpleasant train of thought for a few seconds. We divert our attentions back to the real world.
Within minutes, things are starting to get a bit more intense, and I’m glad I didn’t take any more. A notes a ‘wobbleboard’ effect, and says that although she knows the music in the distance is real, she’s certain the extra sound she is hearing is in her head. She seems fixated on the trees. “They’re smiling at me,” she says. “Well, they’re not really, I know that, but I only have to imagine them with smiles and it seems so real, as if they’re looking out for me.”
A cyclist flies past our location at top speed. A hears the sound of it, but it’s behind her, so even though it makes her jump it doesn’t affect her visual field. For me, this seems to rocket the trip skywards. The image of the bike seems to linger, as a still frame, for seconds after it had actually passed. A decides she needs the toilet, so begins walking back to her flat ten minutes away. I offer to walk with her but she refuses, saying she’d like some time to explore on her own. Five minutes later, I get the overwhelming urge to tidy and organise, and I take all our rubbish to the bins, fold up the blanket, grab all our belongings, and drag them 50 metres up the field to where another friend of ours, a pill dealer, is sitting with a group of his friends. Then I set off in search of A, to inform her of my new location.
Phase 3: The peak
As I walk down the twisting paths of the park, the world looks like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Everything in my field of vision shimmers, glistens and shines. Patches of colours – blues, reds, purples, greens – appear in my peripheral vision and the faces of passing people contort and twist. I’m feeling great, happy to be outdoors, happy to be in amongst such amazing people on such a lovely day.
As I reach the edge of the park and near the road of A’s flat, I become aware that I’ll need to cross it. Deep down I know I am in control enough to be safe, but it momentarily worries me; it seems like something of a major challenge. I realise, though, that I am running on a fine instinct, so I cross over and head towards the block of flats to wait for A.
As I sit there on the wall and text her telling her I’m outside, I relax my brain and let the drugs take their course. The visuals really begin to kick in here. The road ripples and shifts to a pinkish hue in front of my eyes; bumps and cracks appear in its surface. The whole world seem to be changing into a different form of itself. A comes out of the front door and we head back to the park.
As we wander through the trees and windy pathways, someone stops us. “A?” The girl says to A. “It’s A, isn’t it?”
”…Yes?”
”I met you a while back at a party, I’m a friend of X’s. Are you coming to her party tonight?”
”…well, maybe… X is my flatmate.”
”Oh, right, cool! Well, maybe see you there then?”
”Maybe, going to walk about here for a while first. What time is it?” I can tell A is trying desperately to hold it together, but is struggling.
“Just after seven,” she replies. We still had a long way to go.
Back in the original field A starts to feel too warm, and I offer to wander across to the ice cream van to buy water. She’s hesitant at first, not wanting me out of her sight, but in the end she obliges as she doesn’t want to walk any further. I walk across the park, and as I do, the world comes alive with tracers of footballs and juggling balls, and streamers that a group of hippy types are spinning around. I get to the ice cream van and stand in line. The whole world seems to crease and fold around me. In front of me in the queue are two drunk blokes. One is the shape of an upside down triangle, such is his upper body build. He is wearing shorts and a vest, and is covered in corny tattoos. “You look like a young Noel Edmonds,” he shouts at me.
I attempt to maintain some sort of vaguely lighthearted conversation with this awful man. His mannerisms, his trains of thought and his aggression seem so alien to me, as if he were a dangerous species escaped from a cage in a zoo. I can’t associate him with the happy, carefree, and seemingly spiritual gathering of people in the park. His head is wired up differently. He doesn’t seem nice.
Feeling a little shaken, I walk back with the water, the whole world alive and in movement. Someone plays a set of drums in the distance. Or maybe they don’t. I sit back down, and try to relax.
Phase 4: Big boxes of nitrous
At going on for 8 o’clock, a group of men arrive en masse in the park, perch in the middle of the field, and pull out a series of enormous boxes of nitrous oxide canisters and a pack of party balloons. The whole field seems to simultaneously hear the distinctive sound, and within minutes there’s a crowd of people around the area.
“Is that a bad idea?” I ask?
“It’s a terrible idea,” says A.
“It is, isn’t it? I take it we are going to do some, though,” I say.
“Are we?”
“Yes. It’s a terrible idea. We must. Come on.”
I give one of the blokes a quid and he fills the balloon with nitrous. We take it back to our sitting position and I put the balloon up to my mouth. Someone says something funny and I giggle as I try to put my lips around the opening, spilling around half the balloon in the process. I take a few hits off what’s left and pass the last bit to A, though there’s not really enough now to have much of an effect. Instead of losing grip completely, I feel merely pulled sideways. I giggle as my skin goes prickly and somewhat sensitive. A notes similar effects. We consider buying more to get a proper hit, but the moment’s passed, and we decide to relax and prepare for a beautiful sunset.
Phase 5: The power
The field is alive with a phenomenal energy, bouncing around the entire park and into the minds and souls of the people enjoying the beautiful weather. Everyone is congregated for one reason: because life is worth living, and here, now, is the most fantastic moment anyone could hope to experience.
We both sit with a pen and paper. I try to draw what I am seeing. The world is morphing at incredible rates. The grass seems to be growing methodically, symmetrically, but at the same time I can see it staying absolutely still. Both states contradict each other, yet remain perfectly real at the same time. I try to draw the visual effect, and it takes me a good five minutes of obscure scribbling to realise this unique visual experience simply does not translate to paper. It has no place in the actual world. It isn’t possibly by any rational explanation, and doesn’t follow our laws of physics – yet there it is, playing out, in front of my very eyes.
I write down the words ‘symmetrical’ and ‘converging’ – everything seems to be ‘coming together’, both literally and metaphorically, and with an incredible symmetry that reminds myself and A of a kaleidoscope. For a while we scribble on a sheet of paper and try to add to the images to create new objects, but I can’t help but interpret the game differently, and instead of adding to the drawings I find myself merely analysing them in a whole host of new ways, interpreting them for what they may represent, not for what they could be turned into with a few extra lines of ink.
It’s 9 o’clock now and then sun is setting. There’s an incredible energy to the park, a real, clichéd psychedelic vibe rising from the souls of every person in the area. I put on a pair of sunglasses and stare up at the sky. The sunset glares red and pink and the clouds form astonishing faces, almost of religious significance, in the mass above. The whole thing looks like an awesome storm, akin to that on Jupiter, and I write down the word ‘POWER’ in capital letters, underline and circling it for emphasis. I look at my hands. I’m caked in mud and I’ve sat on some chewing gum. I don’t care – it feels so good to be at one with the planet. I add to my notes: ‘EARTHLY.’
This has felt like a special say, a significant one. By 10pm, as the effects of the drug begin to slowly wear off, the twisted headspace making way for a giggly relaxation as the visuals begin to diminish, we make plans to bring the day to a close. A wants to go home to her party and chill out; I want to make more of the day, so purchase four ecstasy tablets off my dealer friend. We walk back towards my house – the roads and buildings look so organic and natural. My vision is a little warped and certain objects still seem to be breathing. I feel ecstatic as I enter my house and say goodbye to A. I hop in the shower, cleansing myself, liberating myself, and decide to see where the night takes me…
Phase 1: The calm before the storm
At 3pm, A and I take ~75mg MDMA each and carry on eating. Within ten minutes my appetite is gone and I discard my burger; A’s appetite is unaffected and she continues eating. After a while, we both become slightly restless, and proceed to a local shop to buy water, where I begin to feel a warm glow surging through my body while standing in the queue. This builds into a subtle, relaxed state with significantly elevated mood, though I can forget I’m under the influence at rimes. It feels good to be outdoors. By a little before half 4, the feelings have subsided a bit, and A has felt virtually nothing at all. We dose the 21mg 2C-B capsules at around 4:30, and get ready for what’s ahead.
Which is, for starters, nothing. After half an hour, when I would usually feel it, I notice absolutely no change in visual or physical perception; A notes none either. After 45 minutes I feel a slight buzz in my limbs, and every now and then notice a wave of unspecific trippiness, with no notable visuals or twisted thoughts, but rather a sense that something is about to happen. These waves materialise for a few seconds every few minutes, building into a sort of vaguely inebriated state by around 5:30, when the effects begin to level. A falls asleep in the sun. I begin to feel a little disappointed, and consider redosing a further quarter capsule, but I’m wary about measuring the amount outdoors, and I don’t want to redoes while A is asleep anyway.
By 6pm I am a little bored, so wake up A. She sits up, comments that she remembered some slight CEVs and a sense of something happening before she fell asleep. Then she stops, and looks around…
“Something’s definitely different to before…” she says, a smile emerging on her face.
Phase 2: The beginning
At first, I notice no difference, and decide I am going to redoes if nothing has happened by half past. A notes a ‘shimmering’ effect to the trees, and says when she stops concentrating seems to see the world as a series of snapshot tracers instead of a flowing image, but that she can still easily snap out of it, and that it’s subtle even when present. Fifteen minutes later I’m experiencing similar effects, but it is mild compared to my previous experiences. I decide to reconsider taking more, though, and let the chemical flow through my body.
A notes the visuals seem more pronounced when wearing her sunglasses, so I borrow them in order to try to kickstart the trip. It works to some extent: colours seem brighter and light more contrastive, and even though I’m aware this is probably just the shading of the glasses, it makes me feel better anyway. Someone kicks a ball in the distance and slight tracers appear behind it. Both of us begin to feel very giggly, and A begins to throw grass on the barbecue.
“Since we were eating the cows a few hours ago, it only seems fair to cook them something to eat as well.”
“What if the cows are all angry?” I ask. “What if they all stampede around us and try to eat us instead?” This seems incredibly humorous to me, but A is less amused, it spinning her into an unpleasant train of thought for a few seconds. We divert our attentions back to the real world.
Within minutes, things are starting to get a bit more intense, and I’m glad I didn’t take any more. A notes a ‘wobbleboard’ effect, and says that although she knows the music in the distance is real, she’s certain the extra sound she is hearing is in her head. She seems fixated on the trees. “They’re smiling at me,” she says. “Well, they’re not really, I know that, but I only have to imagine them with smiles and it seems so real, as if they’re looking out for me.”
A cyclist flies past our location at top speed. A hears the sound of it, but it’s behind her, so even though it makes her jump it doesn’t affect her visual field. For me, this seems to rocket the trip skywards. The image of the bike seems to linger, as a still frame, for seconds after it had actually passed. A decides she needs the toilet, so begins walking back to her flat ten minutes away. I offer to walk with her but she refuses, saying she’d like some time to explore on her own. Five minutes later, I get the overwhelming urge to tidy and organise, and I take all our rubbish to the bins, fold up the blanket, grab all our belongings, and drag them 50 metres up the field to where another friend of ours, a pill dealer, is sitting with a group of his friends. Then I set off in search of A, to inform her of my new location.
Phase 3: The peak
As I walk down the twisting paths of the park, the world looks like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Everything in my field of vision shimmers, glistens and shines. Patches of colours – blues, reds, purples, greens – appear in my peripheral vision and the faces of passing people contort and twist. I’m feeling great, happy to be outdoors, happy to be in amongst such amazing people on such a lovely day.
As I reach the edge of the park and near the road of A’s flat, I become aware that I’ll need to cross it. Deep down I know I am in control enough to be safe, but it momentarily worries me; it seems like something of a major challenge. I realise, though, that I am running on a fine instinct, so I cross over and head towards the block of flats to wait for A.
As I sit there on the wall and text her telling her I’m outside, I relax my brain and let the drugs take their course. The visuals really begin to kick in here. The road ripples and shifts to a pinkish hue in front of my eyes; bumps and cracks appear in its surface. The whole world seem to be changing into a different form of itself. A comes out of the front door and we head back to the park.
As we wander through the trees and windy pathways, someone stops us. “A?” The girl says to A. “It’s A, isn’t it?”
”…Yes?”
”I met you a while back at a party, I’m a friend of X’s. Are you coming to her party tonight?”
”…well, maybe… X is my flatmate.”
”Oh, right, cool! Well, maybe see you there then?”
”Maybe, going to walk about here for a while first. What time is it?” I can tell A is trying desperately to hold it together, but is struggling.
“Just after seven,” she replies. We still had a long way to go.
Back in the original field A starts to feel too warm, and I offer to wander across to the ice cream van to buy water. She’s hesitant at first, not wanting me out of her sight, but in the end she obliges as she doesn’t want to walk any further. I walk across the park, and as I do, the world comes alive with tracers of footballs and juggling balls, and streamers that a group of hippy types are spinning around. I get to the ice cream van and stand in line. The whole world seems to crease and fold around me. In front of me in the queue are two drunk blokes. One is the shape of an upside down triangle, such is his upper body build. He is wearing shorts and a vest, and is covered in corny tattoos. “You look like a young Noel Edmonds,” he shouts at me.
I attempt to maintain some sort of vaguely lighthearted conversation with this awful man. His mannerisms, his trains of thought and his aggression seem so alien to me, as if he were a dangerous species escaped from a cage in a zoo. I can’t associate him with the happy, carefree, and seemingly spiritual gathering of people in the park. His head is wired up differently. He doesn’t seem nice.
Feeling a little shaken, I walk back with the water, the whole world alive and in movement. Someone plays a set of drums in the distance. Or maybe they don’t. I sit back down, and try to relax.
Phase 4: Big boxes of nitrous
At going on for 8 o’clock, a group of men arrive en masse in the park, perch in the middle of the field, and pull out a series of enormous boxes of nitrous oxide canisters and a pack of party balloons. The whole field seems to simultaneously hear the distinctive sound, and within minutes there’s a crowd of people around the area.
“Is that a bad idea?” I ask?
“It’s a terrible idea,” says A.
“It is, isn’t it? I take it we are going to do some, though,” I say.
“Are we?”
“Yes. It’s a terrible idea. We must. Come on.”
I give one of the blokes a quid and he fills the balloon with nitrous. We take it back to our sitting position and I put the balloon up to my mouth. Someone says something funny and I giggle as I try to put my lips around the opening, spilling around half the balloon in the process. I take a few hits off what’s left and pass the last bit to A, though there’s not really enough now to have much of an effect. Instead of losing grip completely, I feel merely pulled sideways. I giggle as my skin goes prickly and somewhat sensitive. A notes similar effects. We consider buying more to get a proper hit, but the moment’s passed, and we decide to relax and prepare for a beautiful sunset.
Phase 5: The power
The field is alive with a phenomenal energy, bouncing around the entire park and into the minds and souls of the people enjoying the beautiful weather. Everyone is congregated for one reason: because life is worth living, and here, now, is the most fantastic moment anyone could hope to experience.
We both sit with a pen and paper. I try to draw what I am seeing. The world is morphing at incredible rates. The grass seems to be growing methodically, symmetrically, but at the same time I can see it staying absolutely still. Both states contradict each other, yet remain perfectly real at the same time. I try to draw the visual effect, and it takes me a good five minutes of obscure scribbling to realise this unique visual experience simply does not translate to paper. It has no place in the actual world. It isn’t possibly by any rational explanation, and doesn’t follow our laws of physics – yet there it is, playing out, in front of my very eyes.
I write down the words ‘symmetrical’ and ‘converging’ – everything seems to be ‘coming together’, both literally and metaphorically, and with an incredible symmetry that reminds myself and A of a kaleidoscope. For a while we scribble on a sheet of paper and try to add to the images to create new objects, but I can’t help but interpret the game differently, and instead of adding to the drawings I find myself merely analysing them in a whole host of new ways, interpreting them for what they may represent, not for what they could be turned into with a few extra lines of ink.
It’s 9 o’clock now and then sun is setting. There’s an incredible energy to the park, a real, clichéd psychedelic vibe rising from the souls of every person in the area. I put on a pair of sunglasses and stare up at the sky. The sunset glares red and pink and the clouds form astonishing faces, almost of religious significance, in the mass above. The whole thing looks like an awesome storm, akin to that on Jupiter, and I write down the word ‘POWER’ in capital letters, underline and circling it for emphasis. I look at my hands. I’m caked in mud and I’ve sat on some chewing gum. I don’t care – it feels so good to be at one with the planet. I add to my notes: ‘EARTHLY.’
This has felt like a special say, a significant one. By 10pm, as the effects of the drug begin to slowly wear off, the twisted headspace making way for a giggly relaxation as the visuals begin to diminish, we make plans to bring the day to a close. A wants to go home to her party and chill out; I want to make more of the day, so purchase four ecstasy tablets off my dealer friend. We walk back towards my house – the roads and buildings look so organic and natural. My vision is a little warped and certain objects still seem to be breathing. I feel ecstatic as I enter my house and say goodbye to A. I hop in the shower, cleansing myself, liberating myself, and decide to see where the night takes me…
