sput
Bluelighter
At the request of a close friend, here's how this one went down ...
T, B, and I had been moving furniture all day to T's new apartment in the far north part of town. The move itself was a huge pain in the ass--T's old house was located, for all practical purposes, on the complete opposite side of Austin. Anyone who has ever attempted navigating Austin traffic (let alone navigating Austin with a moving truck) can sympathize to our frustration of just getting her furniture from one place to the next.
It was the end of only our first day of moving, and we were already exhausted. We were all completely out of shape, and we were all hopelessly dependent on huge quantities of schwag. Weed, of course, does absolutely nothing to help spur the desire to haul furniture up two full flights of stairs. The three of us realized at about six o' clock that evening that it was completely futile to attempt to move anything else from T's old house to her new home as we were all bitchy, tired, and stoned.
To our delight and surprise, we discovered T's new apartment building was located directly next to both a pizza restaurant and a liquor store. The question of dinner had been answered before it was even asked, and by ten o' clock that night we were full and pleasantly buzzed. This left us with a night completely free of any obligations. And of course the only logical thing to do at this point in was to break in T's new apartment. Thus, B and I were sent off on a mission to downtown. We were to come back within an hour to T's new apartment with something to blow all of our happy little minds.
B and I went to our usual shopping center, a club at which I had formerly been employed. It was right at eleven o' clock at the time, and as luck would have it, Tiffany, the kitsch eighties pop-star, was performing a concert that night upon the rooftop of said club. This of course meant a huge crowd. And of course a huge crowd meant an easy find.
After spending time listening to what was actually a great concert, B and I returned northward with six beans--three red and three green. The former were of reputably high MDMA content, and the latter were, as we were informed earlier that night, pressed synthetic mescaline. We all raised our glasses high. "Cheers fuckface!" We all dosed identically, one bean of each color.
Seeing as how we had spent the day moving T's bedroom furniture, the living room was bare, save of course for a television and a DVD player. Just a few minutes after dropping, I announced that I was going to take a shower before I started feeling anything. I quickly made my way into the shower. I must have spent some time there, because I remember by the time I had finished my shower, I was well on my way to a very strong roll. The trip too was becoming apparent. I found myself staring at T's bath towels and making note of the fine craftmanship with which they were made.
As I was drying off, B suddenly threw open the bathroom door, shoved me, still naked, aside, and proceeded to lose his dinner to the toilet. We still, to this day, make fun of B and how he lost it that night. B stands six feet, nine inches tall, and B often brags of his ability to hold down virtually any amount of liquor or any drug. I managed to slip into my clothes while B was finishing his business. With an insipid grin on his face and vomit dripping down his chin, he looked up at me and said, "Dude, I feel fucking great."
By this point it had probably been an hour since we had dosed. The three of us were all heavily tripping and rolling pretty darn hard. The combined effects of the two substances was absolutely amazing. Diamond-shaped visual distortions tainted my field of vision, and everything I saw was bending, shifting, and stretching. T and B's descriptions of what they were seeing was close to what I was experiencing myself. We of course gave each other our usual group hugs, and we spent the next few minutes talking about how much we enjoyed spending time with each other.
At this point we started to play my brand new copy of Yellow Submarine on DVD. It was the most amazing experience of the night. Every scene was overwhelming. The visual portion of our trip enhanced the colors, shapes, and sounds of the movie, and the empathetic qualities of the MDMA helped us maintain a grasp on what is normally considered a rather skewed plotline.
The funniest point of the night came toward the end of the movie. B stated how nice it would be to have a binkie. I nodded and agreed. "That would be nice." B and T both turned to me and stared at me as though I was crazy. I asked them what the hell they were looking at, and they explained to me that B had said that a binkie would be nice over half an hour ago. This couldn't be true, I informed them. B and T then pointed out to me that not only had the movie ended before I gave my reply, but that T had also made a trip to her car to grab a CD and had returned. The rest of the night I spent in a personal pit of confusion. B had just said what he had said, and I instantly replied! At least that's what I swear to this day.
All in all, the night was long and the experience was fantastic. I have yet to try mescaline agains since this particular experience. I'm not usually one for mixing different types of drugs together in one night, but this time, it was definitely worth it.
[Updated title and removed Synthetic Mescaline pill from it -Splatt]
T, B, and I had been moving furniture all day to T's new apartment in the far north part of town. The move itself was a huge pain in the ass--T's old house was located, for all practical purposes, on the complete opposite side of Austin. Anyone who has ever attempted navigating Austin traffic (let alone navigating Austin with a moving truck) can sympathize to our frustration of just getting her furniture from one place to the next.
It was the end of only our first day of moving, and we were already exhausted. We were all completely out of shape, and we were all hopelessly dependent on huge quantities of schwag. Weed, of course, does absolutely nothing to help spur the desire to haul furniture up two full flights of stairs. The three of us realized at about six o' clock that evening that it was completely futile to attempt to move anything else from T's old house to her new home as we were all bitchy, tired, and stoned.
To our delight and surprise, we discovered T's new apartment building was located directly next to both a pizza restaurant and a liquor store. The question of dinner had been answered before it was even asked, and by ten o' clock that night we were full and pleasantly buzzed. This left us with a night completely free of any obligations. And of course the only logical thing to do at this point in was to break in T's new apartment. Thus, B and I were sent off on a mission to downtown. We were to come back within an hour to T's new apartment with something to blow all of our happy little minds.
B and I went to our usual shopping center, a club at which I had formerly been employed. It was right at eleven o' clock at the time, and as luck would have it, Tiffany, the kitsch eighties pop-star, was performing a concert that night upon the rooftop of said club. This of course meant a huge crowd. And of course a huge crowd meant an easy find.
After spending time listening to what was actually a great concert, B and I returned northward with six beans--three red and three green. The former were of reputably high MDMA content, and the latter were, as we were informed earlier that night, pressed synthetic mescaline. We all raised our glasses high. "Cheers fuckface!" We all dosed identically, one bean of each color.
Seeing as how we had spent the day moving T's bedroom furniture, the living room was bare, save of course for a television and a DVD player. Just a few minutes after dropping, I announced that I was going to take a shower before I started feeling anything. I quickly made my way into the shower. I must have spent some time there, because I remember by the time I had finished my shower, I was well on my way to a very strong roll. The trip too was becoming apparent. I found myself staring at T's bath towels and making note of the fine craftmanship with which they were made.
As I was drying off, B suddenly threw open the bathroom door, shoved me, still naked, aside, and proceeded to lose his dinner to the toilet. We still, to this day, make fun of B and how he lost it that night. B stands six feet, nine inches tall, and B often brags of his ability to hold down virtually any amount of liquor or any drug. I managed to slip into my clothes while B was finishing his business. With an insipid grin on his face and vomit dripping down his chin, he looked up at me and said, "Dude, I feel fucking great."
By this point it had probably been an hour since we had dosed. The three of us were all heavily tripping and rolling pretty darn hard. The combined effects of the two substances was absolutely amazing. Diamond-shaped visual distortions tainted my field of vision, and everything I saw was bending, shifting, and stretching. T and B's descriptions of what they were seeing was close to what I was experiencing myself. We of course gave each other our usual group hugs, and we spent the next few minutes talking about how much we enjoyed spending time with each other.
At this point we started to play my brand new copy of Yellow Submarine on DVD. It was the most amazing experience of the night. Every scene was overwhelming. The visual portion of our trip enhanced the colors, shapes, and sounds of the movie, and the empathetic qualities of the MDMA helped us maintain a grasp on what is normally considered a rather skewed plotline.
The funniest point of the night came toward the end of the movie. B stated how nice it would be to have a binkie. I nodded and agreed. "That would be nice." B and T both turned to me and stared at me as though I was crazy. I asked them what the hell they were looking at, and they explained to me that B had said that a binkie would be nice over half an hour ago. This couldn't be true, I informed them. B and T then pointed out to me that not only had the movie ended before I gave my reply, but that T had also made a trip to her car to grab a CD and had returned. The rest of the night I spent in a personal pit of confusion. B had just said what he had said, and I instantly replied! At least that's what I swear to this day.
All in all, the night was long and the experience was fantastic. I have yet to try mescaline agains since this particular experience. I'm not usually one for mixing different types of drugs together in one night, but this time, it was definitely worth it.
[Updated title and removed Synthetic Mescaline pill from it -Splatt]
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