ForEverAfter
Ex-Bluelighter
DXM ~372 mg, oral / Marijuana ~0.25 g, vaporized = "The Goldilocks Fire-Pit Reports"
DXM, ~ 372 mg.
450 mg (my old dose) plus four mushroom caps was too much for me.
I experienced (some) delerium and fear on that dose.
And, those are not things I need around, anymore.
Sure, at one point the insanity appealed to me.
I needed it... I miss needing it, to be honest.
But, I don't (need it) anymore.
I've tried to revisit the past a couple of times.
Dosing, even though I don't have the motivation.
That's what the last DXM / shrooms combo was.
It was forced.
And, I enjoyed it. But, I can't help admit, that it's just gravy now.
I got what I needed out of the psychedelic experience ages ago.
There must be only so much you can learn about yourself.
I don't know what fraction of my life I should devote to it.
But, I think I'm nearing the end.
I used to feel like I had a lot of questions.
Since then, I've explored most of them from multiple angles.
Now, I'm pretty satisfied with what I know.
And, I don't have the desire to seriously sedate myself anymore either.
I don't want to drink myself into a stupor or dissociate myself mad.
Sometimes it happens. But, like I said, it's forced.
I tried to force myself to quit drugs, for a long time, against my will.
It's maddening trying to inconsistently / selectively edit yourself.
I hated my job. I was miserable. My future was uncertain.
That's why I needed to use so much, I think.
Now, my perspective of drug use is changing.
I still want to consume drugs, but I want less.
I see a lot of people struggling with addiction on this site.
You can't force change. You have to want it.
Although I don't know how that applies to iboga (because I haven't tried it yet).
I don't need it (iboga) for addiction reasons. I say that I do, still, to justify using it.
Or - alternatively - I say, I'm drawn to it for spiritual / psychological reasons.
But, in truth, I'm just curious. Like anyone with any drug experience.
Anyway, on with the report.
...
Drank 125 ml of Robotussin Dry Cough Forte before the sun set.
(Approximately 372 mg, taking into account wastage.)
Then I had a bath, during the initial onset (first thirty minutes).
The effects were hardly noticeable at this point.
I turned my vaporizer on and filled a bag with the dregs of some already-vaped bud. Grabbed some junkmail, went outside, and started twisting it (the advertising material) into coils for the pit... My intention, for the trip, was to stare into the fire and think (productively).
Open fires are meditative.
For me, anyway.
I go into the garage and grab my hand-saw.
There's this dead old tree in my back yard.
I climb up it and saw off a chunk, for kindling.
I'm practically doing the splits, two meters off the ground.
There is nobody in the neighbors yard, staring at me, this time.
The fire takes a while to find itself.
I thoroughly enjoy the entire experience.
Climbing the tree. Sawing. Building the fire.
The DXM gives me a huge boost of energy.
I'm not fit, but I don't over-exert myself.
I work in short frenzied bursts.
In between, I stare at the fire and think.
The DXM, combined with the weed vapor and my utter lack of phyiscal fitness, ensures that my heart is beating at an alarming rate... But, it doesn't alarm me.
My girlfriend is going to hang out with some friends at Crown Casino.
I suspect she'd rather stay with me, but I could do with some space to reflect.
I want to clear my mind. So, I tell her to go without me. And, she leaves.
Rather than playing music from the house, loud enough that I can hear it in the back yard, like I was planning, I decide to opt for the headphones instead. My phone is full of mostly 50s / 60s / 70s music. The Supremes. Michael Jackson. Johnny Cash. The Doors. And, what not.
My actions are dictated by the random playlist.
During slow thoughtful songs, I dissociate - staring - into the fire.
Face paced stuff gets me up and dancing, while I'm sawing / fire-building.
Throughout the night, I revisit the house to use the vaporizer periodically.
There are practically no negative physical effects to speak of from the DXM.
A little bit of gas. A slight fleeting hint of nausea. That's it.
I feel a trace of guilt for burning the firewood.
A couple of days ago I saw this documentary about poverty stricken people in a village in Guatemala.
These people couldn't afford firewood. And, here I am, burning a tree just for the sake of it.
I'm not doing it for heat. I'm burning it just to watch it burn.
Sort of like hunting animals, for fun.
Destruction for destruction's sake.
It's beautiful, my fire.
I take great pride in keeping it healthy.
I admire this death. It is beautiful.
The incineration of this old tree.
I think - in that ultra-calm detached dissociated way - what if this was a body?
I'm cutting it into pieces and burning it, just for the thrill of it.
And, honestly, I don't think it was completely dead.
On top of that, this is rental property.
It isn't my tree. But, I don't care.
They can charge me for it.
I think about veganism, and how that compares to burning firewood.
I realize I'm happy to cut down a tree - even if it's healthy - and burn it.
It bothers me less than eating an animal, even though there's no justification for it.
For some reason, it's important for me to cut down this tree in my back yard and burn it.
It feels totally naturally doing it.
Before I put music on, the silence is amplified by the DXM.
I don't drown it out with music, straight away.
I grow accustomed to it.
It's nice to do nothing.
I need to do nothing more often, rather than trying to occupy myself all the time.
This is the third night amputated sections of the tree have roasted for my entertainment.
There's still a fair bit left. It might stretch out to a week...
...
As the drug starts to wear off, I become concerned that I'm sitting too close the fire.
Full feeling returns to my extremities. I am hotter than I would usually allow myself to bake.
I edge my chair backwards...
Touching my face, I realize that I've been leaning into the flames.
I have to check in the mirror, to make sure I haven't burnt my skin or singed my eyebrows.
When I sit down to write this report, I realize I have numerous cuts on my fingers and arms from the tree. It doesn't alarm me.
My girlfriend was concerned that I might burn the house down or something, on account of the DXM. She wouldn't have been worried if I was drinking. Although her concern is unfounded, it doesn't bother me. She doesn't have much experience with drugs, and people fear what they don't know. She's only mildly concerned, anyway. She trusts my judgement.
I've put on a lot of weight, recently.
This gut, I have, it's like a new appendage.
I used it to crack branches in half, instead of my knee.
Although, I can't imagine it has a wide variety of applications.
Time dilation was surprisingly significant. I said nothing for hours.
Just sat there staring into the fire, in between bursts of dancing / fire management.
It felt like an enormous amount of time had passed.
I thought it was midnight, when it was only nine PM.
...
The experience was entirely positive.
DXM is consistently preferable to alcohol.
There will be no hangover. Just this tingly afterglow.
I don't drink much (alcohol) these days.
I'll go for three days without a drink now.
Or, I'll have 3 standard drinks and be satisfied.
375 mg of DXM is more suitable, for me, now, than 450 mg.
Doing DXM once a week is more satisfying than any amount of alcohol.
And, at this dose, it only costs about six dollars.
I consume less of everything now.
Once upon a time, I had mushrooms every day for a year.
(More than) once upon a time, I at ounces of shrooms at ounce.
The same thing applies to meth, now. I don't want to abuse it.
Half a gram of meth lasted me over a month.
Which is weird, because I used to be a junky.
375 mg of DXM is not quite perfect.
If I'm Goldilocks, 375 is the second plate of porridge.
It's still slightly too strong, I think.
Next time, maybe I'll try 350 mg.
I'm thinking of making this a ritual.
Same time next week, I'm going to repeat the experiment.
Fire pit. 350 mg of DXM... And, I'll post another report.
DXM, ~ 372 mg.
450 mg (my old dose) plus four mushroom caps was too much for me.
I experienced (some) delerium and fear on that dose.
And, those are not things I need around, anymore.
Sure, at one point the insanity appealed to me.
I needed it... I miss needing it, to be honest.
But, I don't (need it) anymore.
I've tried to revisit the past a couple of times.
Dosing, even though I don't have the motivation.
That's what the last DXM / shrooms combo was.
It was forced.
And, I enjoyed it. But, I can't help admit, that it's just gravy now.
I got what I needed out of the psychedelic experience ages ago.
There must be only so much you can learn about yourself.
I don't know what fraction of my life I should devote to it.
But, I think I'm nearing the end.
I used to feel like I had a lot of questions.
Since then, I've explored most of them from multiple angles.
Now, I'm pretty satisfied with what I know.
And, I don't have the desire to seriously sedate myself anymore either.
I don't want to drink myself into a stupor or dissociate myself mad.
Sometimes it happens. But, like I said, it's forced.
I tried to force myself to quit drugs, for a long time, against my will.
It's maddening trying to inconsistently / selectively edit yourself.
I hated my job. I was miserable. My future was uncertain.
That's why I needed to use so much, I think.
Now, my perspective of drug use is changing.
I still want to consume drugs, but I want less.
I see a lot of people struggling with addiction on this site.
You can't force change. You have to want it.
Although I don't know how that applies to iboga (because I haven't tried it yet).
I don't need it (iboga) for addiction reasons. I say that I do, still, to justify using it.
Or - alternatively - I say, I'm drawn to it for spiritual / psychological reasons.
But, in truth, I'm just curious. Like anyone with any drug experience.
Anyway, on with the report.
...
Drank 125 ml of Robotussin Dry Cough Forte before the sun set.
(Approximately 372 mg, taking into account wastage.)
Then I had a bath, during the initial onset (first thirty minutes).
The effects were hardly noticeable at this point.
I turned my vaporizer on and filled a bag with the dregs of some already-vaped bud. Grabbed some junkmail, went outside, and started twisting it (the advertising material) into coils for the pit... My intention, for the trip, was to stare into the fire and think (productively).
Open fires are meditative.
For me, anyway.
I go into the garage and grab my hand-saw.
There's this dead old tree in my back yard.
I climb up it and saw off a chunk, for kindling.
I'm practically doing the splits, two meters off the ground.
There is nobody in the neighbors yard, staring at me, this time.
The fire takes a while to find itself.
I thoroughly enjoy the entire experience.
Climbing the tree. Sawing. Building the fire.
The DXM gives me a huge boost of energy.
I'm not fit, but I don't over-exert myself.
I work in short frenzied bursts.
In between, I stare at the fire and think.
The DXM, combined with the weed vapor and my utter lack of phyiscal fitness, ensures that my heart is beating at an alarming rate... But, it doesn't alarm me.
My girlfriend is going to hang out with some friends at Crown Casino.
I suspect she'd rather stay with me, but I could do with some space to reflect.
I want to clear my mind. So, I tell her to go without me. And, she leaves.
Rather than playing music from the house, loud enough that I can hear it in the back yard, like I was planning, I decide to opt for the headphones instead. My phone is full of mostly 50s / 60s / 70s music. The Supremes. Michael Jackson. Johnny Cash. The Doors. And, what not.
My actions are dictated by the random playlist.
During slow thoughtful songs, I dissociate - staring - into the fire.
Face paced stuff gets me up and dancing, while I'm sawing / fire-building.
Throughout the night, I revisit the house to use the vaporizer periodically.
There are practically no negative physical effects to speak of from the DXM.
A little bit of gas. A slight fleeting hint of nausea. That's it.
I feel a trace of guilt for burning the firewood.
A couple of days ago I saw this documentary about poverty stricken people in a village in Guatemala.
These people couldn't afford firewood. And, here I am, burning a tree just for the sake of it.
I'm not doing it for heat. I'm burning it just to watch it burn.
Sort of like hunting animals, for fun.
Destruction for destruction's sake.
It's beautiful, my fire.
I take great pride in keeping it healthy.
I admire this death. It is beautiful.
The incineration of this old tree.
I think - in that ultra-calm detached dissociated way - what if this was a body?
I'm cutting it into pieces and burning it, just for the thrill of it.
And, honestly, I don't think it was completely dead.
On top of that, this is rental property.
It isn't my tree. But, I don't care.
They can charge me for it.
I think about veganism, and how that compares to burning firewood.
I realize I'm happy to cut down a tree - even if it's healthy - and burn it.
It bothers me less than eating an animal, even though there's no justification for it.
For some reason, it's important for me to cut down this tree in my back yard and burn it.
It feels totally naturally doing it.
Before I put music on, the silence is amplified by the DXM.
I don't drown it out with music, straight away.
I grow accustomed to it.
It's nice to do nothing.
I need to do nothing more often, rather than trying to occupy myself all the time.
This is the third night amputated sections of the tree have roasted for my entertainment.
There's still a fair bit left. It might stretch out to a week...
...
As the drug starts to wear off, I become concerned that I'm sitting too close the fire.
Full feeling returns to my extremities. I am hotter than I would usually allow myself to bake.
I edge my chair backwards...
Touching my face, I realize that I've been leaning into the flames.
I have to check in the mirror, to make sure I haven't burnt my skin or singed my eyebrows.
When I sit down to write this report, I realize I have numerous cuts on my fingers and arms from the tree. It doesn't alarm me.
My girlfriend was concerned that I might burn the house down or something, on account of the DXM. She wouldn't have been worried if I was drinking. Although her concern is unfounded, it doesn't bother me. She doesn't have much experience with drugs, and people fear what they don't know. She's only mildly concerned, anyway. She trusts my judgement.
I've put on a lot of weight, recently.
This gut, I have, it's like a new appendage.
I used it to crack branches in half, instead of my knee.
Although, I can't imagine it has a wide variety of applications.
Time dilation was surprisingly significant. I said nothing for hours.
Just sat there staring into the fire, in between bursts of dancing / fire management.
It felt like an enormous amount of time had passed.
I thought it was midnight, when it was only nine PM.
...
The experience was entirely positive.
DXM is consistently preferable to alcohol.
There will be no hangover. Just this tingly afterglow.
I don't drink much (alcohol) these days.
I'll go for three days without a drink now.
Or, I'll have 3 standard drinks and be satisfied.
375 mg of DXM is more suitable, for me, now, than 450 mg.
Doing DXM once a week is more satisfying than any amount of alcohol.
And, at this dose, it only costs about six dollars.
I consume less of everything now.
Once upon a time, I had mushrooms every day for a year.
(More than) once upon a time, I at ounces of shrooms at ounce.
The same thing applies to meth, now. I don't want to abuse it.
Half a gram of meth lasted me over a month.
Which is weird, because I used to be a junky.
375 mg of DXM is not quite perfect.
If I'm Goldilocks, 375 is the second plate of porridge.
It's still slightly too strong, I think.
Next time, maybe I'll try 350 mg.
I'm thinking of making this a ritual.
Same time next week, I'm going to repeat the experiment.
Fire pit. 350 mg of DXM... And, I'll post another report.
Last edited:
Thanks for reading.