Shambles
Bluelight Crew
The Intro:
Firstly, I must apologise for the excessive and extravagant length – I know you are all busy people – but the reasons for this will become clear as we go on. Actually, my “Firstly,” should have been that this was all (including this bit) written whilst deeply under the influence. I considered rewriting, revising and re-editing to make it more concise, but ultimately decided that it was more interesting (and honest) to leave untouched. As a result, there are, inevitably, repetitions and ramblings. For these I apologise, but still feel that this is the most accurate representation of my state of mind at the time.
I have been using MDMA for around fifteen years now. I first injected it (in the form of crushed ecstasy tablets) around ten years ago. This method made sense to me as I have used needles for almost my entire adult life – I was an IV heroin/crack addict for over ten years. Although I have been “clean” (hate that phrase – so insulting and misleading) for a few years now, I have never lost my needle fetish. For me, spliff is to be skinned-up; pretty much anything else is to be cooked up. I feel most comfortable with a (full) needle of something nice handy – even if it is only wheeled out of semi-retirement comparatively rarely now.
I wrote this on two separate occasions with two different batches of MDMA crystal. The first batch was made up of fine, blood-red crystals. The second batch was more of a pale orangey-pink colour. I use MDMA about once every 6-8 weeks or so. I drank a little beer and smoked a little spliff both times. But then I always do – MDMA or no MDMA. GBL was also consumed in places. In total, I shot around half a gram of MDMA whilst writing the main body, the bulk, of the report and, perhaps, the same again whilst minor tidying-up took place (on a night weeks afterwards). Most was injected, but some was smoked (chased on the foil like heroin) to keep me ticking over.
The Report:
I have never before considered the possibility of entering a trip report. It seems to me unlikely that I have anything of value to add. Recently though, I entered into a brief Bluelight conversation about the intravenous use of MDMA. It appears that those, like myself, who choose this purest of interactions with our substance(s) of choice are under-represented in this area. So here it is…
Background:
I first used MDMA around fifteen years ago in the form of pressed pills, as was the custom then. With hindsight, it is clear to me now that my first ever dose contained a staggering amount of both MDMA and MDA. They were called ”California Sunrises,” for reference. Seasoned ravers used to dropping multiple pills nightly went over on those blissful beauties. Ambulances were called to illegal raves to save the casualties. With this being the early 90s, the rave scene was up in arms and belligerent about the loathsome and despised Criminal Justice Bill. Calling ambulances to raves and was far from cool – not the done thing at all – but truly necessary in this case. The point being that my first experience of ecstasy was with a pill that was putting people in hospital that had been boshing beans for years. It was intense. Very intense.
My first time was not, as you may expect, at a rave though. I was at the tail end of an acid, speed, crack and smack binge. I had been up (and going in to work everyday) for five days and was looking for a little pick-me-up to get through work (as a barman at the time) that Friday afternoon and evening.
It was a little more than a pick-me-up. A shitload more. And I loved it so.
Since then, few pills have excited me but, even then, I was dabbling (read: drowning) with those vicious Siamese Dreams known as smack and crack. I suspect that I was too far gone to really appreciate the joys of ecstasy for a while.
That changed a few years later when I found a couple of Little Ones in an old pair of trousers. By that time, I was an utter slave, devoted to the syringe. If it could conceivably be injected then I did so. So I crushed the pills, cooked and then shot them.
Finally, I remembered why this substance was known as “ecstasy”.
Shortly after that timely reminder, crystal MDMA became more reliable, available and affordable. The crystal form lends itself to intravenous use to those that are familiar with that route. Injectors like things that break down rapidly, cleanly, quickly and easily in water and provide a truly transcendent and righteous rush. Good quality MDMA crystal does this in spades.
Tonight:
I have been frantically creating art all day for my final assessment on Monday. To assist this ideal, I began the day with GBL, caffeine and hash. A few hours later and I introduced alcohol into the mix. Obviously.
A few more hours later, I was feeling burnt out and needed a change of vision, so I cooked 100mg (or so) of crimson-coloured MDMA and shunted it smoothly into my favoured “New Vein”.
Then I decided to write this. I did, and now I am.
Three more substantial digs and a bottle of Merlot later, I find myself listening to Faithless, sweating profusely, feeling every scintilla of sound engulf my soul, and writing this in a blissed-out and shiny haze. Music is beyond beautiful; I long for the day I have no neighbours. Nevertheless, low-volume music and high-volume IV MD is far superior to low-volume music and bugger all.
It has been so long since I used MDMA orally that I have all but forgotten exactly how it feels. Therefore, it is hard for me to convey the profoundly different character that mudmah presents in it’s intravenous form: It is not like any pill you ever popped. Instead, I shall simply attempt to describe my current state of existence.
The initial response from all but a few Fellow Travellers to the concept of shooting ecstasy is one of surprise (bordering on shock) and fascination (bordering on revulsion). But mostly they are simply inquisitive and seeking vicarious thrills. They seem to be under the impression that the IV method must be a messy, heart-stopping and overwhelmingly overwhelming rush and experience. They are only partially correct. It could be, I am sure, all of these things and worse. However, I have been doing this for a long, long time, and was previously injecting my long lost, and forever beloved, smack ‘n’ crack. Hence, I am quite familiar with insane rushes and a profoundly intense interaction with my substances.
The physical feeling of injected MDMA is certainly in the first, almost instantaneous response, one of “Fuck me that’s strong!” And it is true: it is very “strong”. The first heart-pounding, head-spinning, jaw-clenching beatific rush is beyond words. But I shall try to find some…
It begins with a tightening and fluttering of the chest, an acrid taste in the back of the mouth, and an unstoppable wave of warmth and dreamy, blissful reverie. This initial “Shock & Awe” attack is brief, but can be extreme. I have seen seasoned pill-poppers fly so high upon receiving a rather modest barrel-full that they were taken to a place so transcendent that they could only communicate through simple sounds, grunts and gestures for a time.
Rolled in foetal comfort I rock with eyes-closed and mind-blown. Think K-Hole and you’re not a million miles away. Only instead of a tranquilised body and an incredible mind journey, you have a body that is alive with arcing sparks of sublime energy and a comparatively monochrome mind-movie. Monochrome, that is, in comparison with the exquisitely and infinitely detailed shimmering splendour of the kaleidoscopic ketamine consciousness, but still a tantalising taste of the Technicolor transcendence that exists in the space between worlds.
The body feels as though pulsing with energy. The head feels stretched and elated. Ecstatic. The jaw clenches and grinds as though the fate of the universe itself were tied to its meaningless mastication. One’s consciousness both expands and contracts almost simultaneously. Almost, but not quite. That fractional differentiation – the lag betwixt psyche and physiology – creates the necessary space for the deepest, most profound sense of peace, serenity and inner-calm to take over and reign imperious.
It is this last aspect, I feel, that is missing from the traditional (oral) ecstatic experience. The heavenly, divine tranquillity and absolute calm that buries all concern that may follow a reasonably large intravenous dose of MDMA, is incomparable to any other sensation. If dropping a good quality pill or two is greatly gorgeous, then jacking the equivalent amount of MD crystal is a purely perfect and glorious grace. The sensation of “rolling” (as our colonial cousins like to say) is almost crushing in its relentless and hypnotic seductions. It is hard to keep my eyes open. The world behind the eyes is so much more enthralling, distracting and absorbing.
Sweat beads and trickles across every curvaceous contour of my corporeal cage. My jaw aches from grinding. It is so very warm tonight. The air is balmy and thick. My head feels as though it has a counter-weight balancing it slightly off-centre in my sternum. It wobbles and bounces like a sparkly and shining executive desk toy. One gentle push - a great tune kicking in for example – results in seemingly perpetual motion. My head bobs and sways to a good bass-line and an inner-vision of paradise beneath.
The biggest difference between the intravenous use of MD and its more familiar brethren the swallow and the snort, is a perfect balance of calm and intensity. Injecting methyldioxy is, initially, a hell of a rush. Potentially, quite a frightening rush I would imagine. There is none of the slightly uncomfortable anxiety of the oral come-up and, obviously, none of the foul taste and burn of the intranasal route. It’s like going from a standing start to a full-on peak experience in the time it takes to plunge the plunger and empty its ecstatic elixir into a convenient vein.
The actual sensation of coming-up on IV MD is so very hard to explain. Those of us who know the feeling tend to describe it only in gesture, expression and illustrative sounds. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to spell any of those communications so only those who have shot crystal themselves, or closely observed others doing so, will know what I mean by a wide-eyed “Fuck me! That’s strong!” expression, puffed-out cheeks and a long exhalation of breath – “Pppffffttt…!” Sorry I can’t explain it better, but some sensations are quite truly indescribable - especially with my piss-poor ability to communicate. I hope that I managed to convey a little something of the flavour of that first world-ending rush though.
Once the initial rocket ride begins to subside, the amphetamine push is still in evidence but it easily kept in check by the sublime serenity that swiftly envelops. A blissfully benign beauty has been building since that first press on the plunger. Now that its swaggeringly seductive sensorial sibling “The Rush” is passing its zenith, waning to warm afterglow, it is time for peace to take its rightful place and reign over.
As you may have noticed, words like “calmness”, “peace”, “serenity”, “tranquillity”, “transcendence”, “bliss” and, of course, “ecstasy” spring to mind. Clichés one and all, but undeniably accurate. This is what IV MD is all about: The wrenching rushes are great fun, but it is the mellow and meditative moments that linger longest. Yes, you can happily go forth and shake a little tail-feather to some juicy tune. Or you can lie back comfortably, eyes closed, and let yourself be transported with the ebb and flow of your newly quiet mind. Or, indeed, whatever alternate whim strikes you as valuable.
I rounded off the night with a couple of shots (oral shots – not injected, I’m not quite that reckless - of around 2ml each) of GBL, leaving a suitable time between the first and second. The Guice mixes beautifully with the glowing embers of the MD. One appears to potentiate the other in the most gloriously synergistic fashion. It is an inspiringly divine combination. Finally, I took 10mg of diazepam to ease the drifting shift from the conscious dream to the unconscious one. It was successful.
I slept soundly for seven hours and awoke feeling a tad tired and sluggish, but also at peace with myself, my Fellow Travellers and the universe as a whole. A cheeky GBL-laced coffee kick-starts the day and gives me the required oomph to get back to creating “art”. Ha! Maybe one day.
And so it goes on, around and around for evermore. And how I love it so.
substancecode_MDMA
methodcode_IV
Firstly, I must apologise for the excessive and extravagant length – I know you are all busy people – but the reasons for this will become clear as we go on. Actually, my “Firstly,” should have been that this was all (including this bit) written whilst deeply under the influence. I considered rewriting, revising and re-editing to make it more concise, but ultimately decided that it was more interesting (and honest) to leave untouched. As a result, there are, inevitably, repetitions and ramblings. For these I apologise, but still feel that this is the most accurate representation of my state of mind at the time.
I have been using MDMA for around fifteen years now. I first injected it (in the form of crushed ecstasy tablets) around ten years ago. This method made sense to me as I have used needles for almost my entire adult life – I was an IV heroin/crack addict for over ten years. Although I have been “clean” (hate that phrase – so insulting and misleading) for a few years now, I have never lost my needle fetish. For me, spliff is to be skinned-up; pretty much anything else is to be cooked up. I feel most comfortable with a (full) needle of something nice handy – even if it is only wheeled out of semi-retirement comparatively rarely now.
I wrote this on two separate occasions with two different batches of MDMA crystal. The first batch was made up of fine, blood-red crystals. The second batch was more of a pale orangey-pink colour. I use MDMA about once every 6-8 weeks or so. I drank a little beer and smoked a little spliff both times. But then I always do – MDMA or no MDMA. GBL was also consumed in places. In total, I shot around half a gram of MDMA whilst writing the main body, the bulk, of the report and, perhaps, the same again whilst minor tidying-up took place (on a night weeks afterwards). Most was injected, but some was smoked (chased on the foil like heroin) to keep me ticking over.
The Report:
I have never before considered the possibility of entering a trip report. It seems to me unlikely that I have anything of value to add. Recently though, I entered into a brief Bluelight conversation about the intravenous use of MDMA. It appears that those, like myself, who choose this purest of interactions with our substance(s) of choice are under-represented in this area. So here it is…
Background:
I first used MDMA around fifteen years ago in the form of pressed pills, as was the custom then. With hindsight, it is clear to me now that my first ever dose contained a staggering amount of both MDMA and MDA. They were called ”California Sunrises,” for reference. Seasoned ravers used to dropping multiple pills nightly went over on those blissful beauties. Ambulances were called to illegal raves to save the casualties. With this being the early 90s, the rave scene was up in arms and belligerent about the loathsome and despised Criminal Justice Bill. Calling ambulances to raves and was far from cool – not the done thing at all – but truly necessary in this case. The point being that my first experience of ecstasy was with a pill that was putting people in hospital that had been boshing beans for years. It was intense. Very intense.
My first time was not, as you may expect, at a rave though. I was at the tail end of an acid, speed, crack and smack binge. I had been up (and going in to work everyday) for five days and was looking for a little pick-me-up to get through work (as a barman at the time) that Friday afternoon and evening.
It was a little more than a pick-me-up. A shitload more. And I loved it so.
Since then, few pills have excited me but, even then, I was dabbling (read: drowning) with those vicious Siamese Dreams known as smack and crack. I suspect that I was too far gone to really appreciate the joys of ecstasy for a while.
That changed a few years later when I found a couple of Little Ones in an old pair of trousers. By that time, I was an utter slave, devoted to the syringe. If it could conceivably be injected then I did so. So I crushed the pills, cooked and then shot them.
Finally, I remembered why this substance was known as “ecstasy”.
Shortly after that timely reminder, crystal MDMA became more reliable, available and affordable. The crystal form lends itself to intravenous use to those that are familiar with that route. Injectors like things that break down rapidly, cleanly, quickly and easily in water and provide a truly transcendent and righteous rush. Good quality MDMA crystal does this in spades.
Tonight:
I have been frantically creating art all day for my final assessment on Monday. To assist this ideal, I began the day with GBL, caffeine and hash. A few hours later and I introduced alcohol into the mix. Obviously.
A few more hours later, I was feeling burnt out and needed a change of vision, so I cooked 100mg (or so) of crimson-coloured MDMA and shunted it smoothly into my favoured “New Vein”.
Then I decided to write this. I did, and now I am.
Three more substantial digs and a bottle of Merlot later, I find myself listening to Faithless, sweating profusely, feeling every scintilla of sound engulf my soul, and writing this in a blissed-out and shiny haze. Music is beyond beautiful; I long for the day I have no neighbours. Nevertheless, low-volume music and high-volume IV MD is far superior to low-volume music and bugger all.
It has been so long since I used MDMA orally that I have all but forgotten exactly how it feels. Therefore, it is hard for me to convey the profoundly different character that mudmah presents in it’s intravenous form: It is not like any pill you ever popped. Instead, I shall simply attempt to describe my current state of existence.
The initial response from all but a few Fellow Travellers to the concept of shooting ecstasy is one of surprise (bordering on shock) and fascination (bordering on revulsion). But mostly they are simply inquisitive and seeking vicarious thrills. They seem to be under the impression that the IV method must be a messy, heart-stopping and overwhelmingly overwhelming rush and experience. They are only partially correct. It could be, I am sure, all of these things and worse. However, I have been doing this for a long, long time, and was previously injecting my long lost, and forever beloved, smack ‘n’ crack. Hence, I am quite familiar with insane rushes and a profoundly intense interaction with my substances.
The physical feeling of injected MDMA is certainly in the first, almost instantaneous response, one of “Fuck me that’s strong!” And it is true: it is very “strong”. The first heart-pounding, head-spinning, jaw-clenching beatific rush is beyond words. But I shall try to find some…
It begins with a tightening and fluttering of the chest, an acrid taste in the back of the mouth, and an unstoppable wave of warmth and dreamy, blissful reverie. This initial “Shock & Awe” attack is brief, but can be extreme. I have seen seasoned pill-poppers fly so high upon receiving a rather modest barrel-full that they were taken to a place so transcendent that they could only communicate through simple sounds, grunts and gestures for a time.
Rolled in foetal comfort I rock with eyes-closed and mind-blown. Think K-Hole and you’re not a million miles away. Only instead of a tranquilised body and an incredible mind journey, you have a body that is alive with arcing sparks of sublime energy and a comparatively monochrome mind-movie. Monochrome, that is, in comparison with the exquisitely and infinitely detailed shimmering splendour of the kaleidoscopic ketamine consciousness, but still a tantalising taste of the Technicolor transcendence that exists in the space between worlds.
The body feels as though pulsing with energy. The head feels stretched and elated. Ecstatic. The jaw clenches and grinds as though the fate of the universe itself were tied to its meaningless mastication. One’s consciousness both expands and contracts almost simultaneously. Almost, but not quite. That fractional differentiation – the lag betwixt psyche and physiology – creates the necessary space for the deepest, most profound sense of peace, serenity and inner-calm to take over and reign imperious.
It is this last aspect, I feel, that is missing from the traditional (oral) ecstatic experience. The heavenly, divine tranquillity and absolute calm that buries all concern that may follow a reasonably large intravenous dose of MDMA, is incomparable to any other sensation. If dropping a good quality pill or two is greatly gorgeous, then jacking the equivalent amount of MD crystal is a purely perfect and glorious grace. The sensation of “rolling” (as our colonial cousins like to say) is almost crushing in its relentless and hypnotic seductions. It is hard to keep my eyes open. The world behind the eyes is so much more enthralling, distracting and absorbing.
Sweat beads and trickles across every curvaceous contour of my corporeal cage. My jaw aches from grinding. It is so very warm tonight. The air is balmy and thick. My head feels as though it has a counter-weight balancing it slightly off-centre in my sternum. It wobbles and bounces like a sparkly and shining executive desk toy. One gentle push - a great tune kicking in for example – results in seemingly perpetual motion. My head bobs and sways to a good bass-line and an inner-vision of paradise beneath.
The biggest difference between the intravenous use of MD and its more familiar brethren the swallow and the snort, is a perfect balance of calm and intensity. Injecting methyldioxy is, initially, a hell of a rush. Potentially, quite a frightening rush I would imagine. There is none of the slightly uncomfortable anxiety of the oral come-up and, obviously, none of the foul taste and burn of the intranasal route. It’s like going from a standing start to a full-on peak experience in the time it takes to plunge the plunger and empty its ecstatic elixir into a convenient vein.
The actual sensation of coming-up on IV MD is so very hard to explain. Those of us who know the feeling tend to describe it only in gesture, expression and illustrative sounds. Unfortunately, I have no idea how to spell any of those communications so only those who have shot crystal themselves, or closely observed others doing so, will know what I mean by a wide-eyed “Fuck me! That’s strong!” expression, puffed-out cheeks and a long exhalation of breath – “Pppffffttt…!” Sorry I can’t explain it better, but some sensations are quite truly indescribable - especially with my piss-poor ability to communicate. I hope that I managed to convey a little something of the flavour of that first world-ending rush though.
Once the initial rocket ride begins to subside, the amphetamine push is still in evidence but it easily kept in check by the sublime serenity that swiftly envelops. A blissfully benign beauty has been building since that first press on the plunger. Now that its swaggeringly seductive sensorial sibling “The Rush” is passing its zenith, waning to warm afterglow, it is time for peace to take its rightful place and reign over.
As you may have noticed, words like “calmness”, “peace”, “serenity”, “tranquillity”, “transcendence”, “bliss” and, of course, “ecstasy” spring to mind. Clichés one and all, but undeniably accurate. This is what IV MD is all about: The wrenching rushes are great fun, but it is the mellow and meditative moments that linger longest. Yes, you can happily go forth and shake a little tail-feather to some juicy tune. Or you can lie back comfortably, eyes closed, and let yourself be transported with the ebb and flow of your newly quiet mind. Or, indeed, whatever alternate whim strikes you as valuable.
I rounded off the night with a couple of shots (oral shots – not injected, I’m not quite that reckless - of around 2ml each) of GBL, leaving a suitable time between the first and second. The Guice mixes beautifully with the glowing embers of the MD. One appears to potentiate the other in the most gloriously synergistic fashion. It is an inspiringly divine combination. Finally, I took 10mg of diazepam to ease the drifting shift from the conscious dream to the unconscious one. It was successful.
I slept soundly for seven hours and awoke feeling a tad tired and sluggish, but also at peace with myself, my Fellow Travellers and the universe as a whole. A cheeky GBL-laced coffee kick-starts the day and gives me the required oomph to get back to creating “art”. Ha! Maybe one day.
And so it goes on, around and around for evermore. And how I love it so.
substancecode_MDMA
methodcode_IV
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