the plans had fallen through for new years, as i expected them to. D had had something come up at last minute, as per usual, and i was left at home with my plans cancelled like some crap sitcom. The set was the apartment: a small one bedroom prefab number owned by the local church. Pretty small, cozy, and a little cluttered. We are in our early twenties, and are doing pretty good for where we are in life at the moment, which is to say that times are hard but we manage to get by. Things could be much much worse.
So anyway, yeah, let me set the stage: we took back some movies to the local rental. I had Rented master of the flying guillotine', and K had rented some crap pop mainstream "psychological" thriller thing called cry wolf. I decided to pick something up that might be a little heady for the evening's revelries. I was thinking something fluffy with a little hint of color and fun, like yellow submarine or maybe the wizard of oz. Wasnt really in the mood for anything profound or life changing, just something to kind of hum and glisten in the background while we talked. I end up renting "timothy leary's dead" on impulse. I'm no fan of leary, in fact i think he was an egomaniacal fuck up with prometheus syndrome who ruined a perfectly good opportunity for social growth by trying to push enlightenment into the american living room like some ill-conceived mentos commercial. i figure, hey, i'm going to probably run into some one eventually who thinks this guy is the hot shit. And trends they come and go, you know? Maybe he'll be in tomorrow and i'll have to talk shit about his movement/movies/books and how fucking moronic they are with a little backing to the cyberdelic crowd. I saw it as required reading that i didnt look forward too. It was a poor choice.
anyway, we rent it. it's a nice night out so we figure we'll drop and go for a pleasant little stroll to kick off 06'. it was probably 60ish. not too bad for this time of the year. this same little lot of blue dolphins had proven to be exceptional pills in the past, so i figure i'll choke down one and a half. K decided to gnaw on some blue supermen[snip]. We cull out the poorly pressed pills from the flock, and take them with water.
the movie starts, and it's the usual crap. blah blah 60's harvard blah blah LSD blah blah culture shift blah blah. there are no critical insights, it's just boring obvious crap with some really ham-fisted "psychedelic" twists thrown in. Annoying little flairs that must have made sense at the time, but are like sandpaper on teeth now, one is reminded of the blinking html code. It's kind of like that. Not that great at all, and you can tell real early on it's going to be all about how great tim leary is and how brilliant this awesome visionary was and so on and so forth. The pills start to come on about 10 minutes in. I make a bell curve in the air with my finger and make a circle around the lower left hand ramp of the bell. She nods. I could feel it in my legs a little, typical warming/glowing sensation.
Now from past experiences with these very same pills, i really expected a stellar experience from them. I had several at some psytrance doof in the mountains of north carolina and they were exceptional. I expected more of the same. Boy oh boy, was i ever wrong. Goes to show how drastically different an experience can be between the same batch of drugs and the same person at the same dosage.
Anyway, it starts coming on stronger. I start to feel anxious, pretty bad. I feel bad, poisoned, negative, sad, empty, hollow, blank, etc. It's hard to describe but it was similar to a cross between paranoia and extreme sadness. I tried to spend a minute to think about where these feelings were coming from and why so that i could try to deal with what was going on and move on. No luck. Fear kicks in more around the edges, green and acidic. I'm reminded of how lazy i've been with my personal security lately. I've [edited out: various irresponsible acts] Panic sets in, and i start to spiral into a fit of paranoid dellusional thinking. Typical i guess, but it was still alarming. I go to the bathroom and make myself throw up several times in hope of getting any extra medicine out of me that i can, so that the experience doesnt escalate any further. All the while the imagined words of what the agents following my case must be saying to themselves. Over and over, reciting my misdeeds that raised red flags. When i [edited various irresponsible behaviors] spinning, spinning, irrational and sweaty and vomit, spinning and spinning, the whirlpool of the toilet flushing it away. There was a sense of purgative cleansing ala ayahusca or mescaline, but it was just a vague hint. Nothing major, is what i'm saying.
i worry about the purity of my intentions for a while.
K was supportive, and i reassure her that i understand this will pass after a while. It is the effect of the medicine. If i die, it is natural as all things die and are dying. I just want to be comfortable while i ride the waves of this storm back to the rocky shore. I ask for a blanket and some water, and lay still for a while. I make a point of turning off the television and computer off so as not to be disturbed, and so i can pay attention to my experience.
So yeah, the pills work their horrible magic over on me. it comes to me that i have no idea what are in the pills, as we have once again been too recklessly cheap and lazy to care enough to get a pill testing kit so that we can know what we are putting into our bodies. dirty street pills. dirty is the word, as the voices battle back and forth. picking up intercepted dialogue between two agents (dea, cops, something) talking about me and my case. probably some kind of persecution thing, fear turned outwards as compared to anger turned inwards, manifested as a "puppet show" as my therapist likes to call it. I hate this shit. i knew better. fuck why do i do this shit to myself.
Anyway, i do battle with my inner demons for a while, and after a bit they settle down. I load up a pipe of DMT for K at some point, as we traded a kind of "i'll do pills if you'll smoke my dmt" thing. Which is retarded, i should have stuck to what i like and she should have stuck her stupid little tactic up her ass. but i wanted to be agreeable. she makes me heinously miserable if i disagree or protest, just as any low to moderately skilled hamfist authority figure would. It's a blunt sword to weld, but fucking heavy enough to be used as a club.
Regardless, she hits the pipe once. The dmt is really good, and she takes three bulbs without much effort. smiles, talks about clowns and a dragon, and very plainly being telepathically communicated with. they said "we've got you" as in, you know not like a shitty hateful evil thing like the wicked witch would say, but like something your parents would say when you're riding a bike. we talk about entity contact and all that, and she goes up again. says she went somewhere she shouldnt have, a skull with sharp teeth/glowing eye, says she should come with a reason or intent. she then talks about being able to have contact with them even a little bit after the big part of the experience is over. i agree that i've noted something similar, but it's more mind based. I say that i'm not sure if it's communication with the subconscious (most likely) or something beyond that (less likely) and that for right now it's ok to talk a little crazy, but when back to normal headspace it's a good idea to apply occam's razor to situations like these. Makes for easier conversation with the normals.
i smoke a little, and i see a silly cartoon dragon. i guess my intent was to understand what she was feeling so maybe i could help her incorporate her experience/advise her on the emotions and feelings associated with it, but as unstable as i was feeling that night it was probably a bad idea. dmt seems to love me though, and everything went fine. the cartoony dragon was pronounced in scales of green with pointy silly triangular red lips. it reminded me of a lego dragon kind of. it was made up of smaller little moving fragments, as typical of most of my dmt experiences as of late. it looked very much like the old style dragons, but a bit more childish. medievil, i guess is how i'd describe it. but in a deliberately hokey way. It seemed silly, and friendly, like jokey kind of. Still, no clowns.
I never get clowns. K gets clowns. Which is really weird, because of how common they are. I've never seen them. I'm curious as to what she's talking about, what everyone is talking about it seems with the clowns/jesters. I get millipedes, and weird goblins that interact with me wearing tripod robot bulbs with feathery leaved plant tendril-tentacles as some kind of inner-space suit, and even glowing lotus-dimensioned hominid-ish shapes. Never clowns. Oh well.
Anyway, we make love. The dmt afterglow enhances things nicely. Her breasts look wonderful in the moonlight coming in through the window. i enjoy the delights of feeling of her sex for a while, and have a pleasantly extend duration of effect. i enjoy a pretty powerful orgasm. Better than typical sex for us.
I took a couple seroquel, and kicked back. I took some vitamins, and a bit of water, and went to bed: glad to have ridden out the most unpleasant bits of another crappy street pill X-perience or... whatever...
That was that!
So anyway, yeah, let me set the stage: we took back some movies to the local rental. I had Rented master of the flying guillotine', and K had rented some crap pop mainstream "psychological" thriller thing called cry wolf. I decided to pick something up that might be a little heady for the evening's revelries. I was thinking something fluffy with a little hint of color and fun, like yellow submarine or maybe the wizard of oz. Wasnt really in the mood for anything profound or life changing, just something to kind of hum and glisten in the background while we talked. I end up renting "timothy leary's dead" on impulse. I'm no fan of leary, in fact i think he was an egomaniacal fuck up with prometheus syndrome who ruined a perfectly good opportunity for social growth by trying to push enlightenment into the american living room like some ill-conceived mentos commercial. i figure, hey, i'm going to probably run into some one eventually who thinks this guy is the hot shit. And trends they come and go, you know? Maybe he'll be in tomorrow and i'll have to talk shit about his movement/movies/books and how fucking moronic they are with a little backing to the cyberdelic crowd. I saw it as required reading that i didnt look forward too. It was a poor choice.
anyway, we rent it. it's a nice night out so we figure we'll drop and go for a pleasant little stroll to kick off 06'. it was probably 60ish. not too bad for this time of the year. this same little lot of blue dolphins had proven to be exceptional pills in the past, so i figure i'll choke down one and a half. K decided to gnaw on some blue supermen[snip]. We cull out the poorly pressed pills from the flock, and take them with water.
the movie starts, and it's the usual crap. blah blah 60's harvard blah blah LSD blah blah culture shift blah blah. there are no critical insights, it's just boring obvious crap with some really ham-fisted "psychedelic" twists thrown in. Annoying little flairs that must have made sense at the time, but are like sandpaper on teeth now, one is reminded of the blinking html code. It's kind of like that. Not that great at all, and you can tell real early on it's going to be all about how great tim leary is and how brilliant this awesome visionary was and so on and so forth. The pills start to come on about 10 minutes in. I make a bell curve in the air with my finger and make a circle around the lower left hand ramp of the bell. She nods. I could feel it in my legs a little, typical warming/glowing sensation.
Now from past experiences with these very same pills, i really expected a stellar experience from them. I had several at some psytrance doof in the mountains of north carolina and they were exceptional. I expected more of the same. Boy oh boy, was i ever wrong. Goes to show how drastically different an experience can be between the same batch of drugs and the same person at the same dosage.
Anyway, it starts coming on stronger. I start to feel anxious, pretty bad. I feel bad, poisoned, negative, sad, empty, hollow, blank, etc. It's hard to describe but it was similar to a cross between paranoia and extreme sadness. I tried to spend a minute to think about where these feelings were coming from and why so that i could try to deal with what was going on and move on. No luck. Fear kicks in more around the edges, green and acidic. I'm reminded of how lazy i've been with my personal security lately. I've [edited out: various irresponsible acts] Panic sets in, and i start to spiral into a fit of paranoid dellusional thinking. Typical i guess, but it was still alarming. I go to the bathroom and make myself throw up several times in hope of getting any extra medicine out of me that i can, so that the experience doesnt escalate any further. All the while the imagined words of what the agents following my case must be saying to themselves. Over and over, reciting my misdeeds that raised red flags. When i [edited various irresponsible behaviors] spinning, spinning, irrational and sweaty and vomit, spinning and spinning, the whirlpool of the toilet flushing it away. There was a sense of purgative cleansing ala ayahusca or mescaline, but it was just a vague hint. Nothing major, is what i'm saying.
i worry about the purity of my intentions for a while.
K was supportive, and i reassure her that i understand this will pass after a while. It is the effect of the medicine. If i die, it is natural as all things die and are dying. I just want to be comfortable while i ride the waves of this storm back to the rocky shore. I ask for a blanket and some water, and lay still for a while. I make a point of turning off the television and computer off so as not to be disturbed, and so i can pay attention to my experience.
So yeah, the pills work their horrible magic over on me. it comes to me that i have no idea what are in the pills, as we have once again been too recklessly cheap and lazy to care enough to get a pill testing kit so that we can know what we are putting into our bodies. dirty street pills. dirty is the word, as the voices battle back and forth. picking up intercepted dialogue between two agents (dea, cops, something) talking about me and my case. probably some kind of persecution thing, fear turned outwards as compared to anger turned inwards, manifested as a "puppet show" as my therapist likes to call it. I hate this shit. i knew better. fuck why do i do this shit to myself.
Anyway, i do battle with my inner demons for a while, and after a bit they settle down. I load up a pipe of DMT for K at some point, as we traded a kind of "i'll do pills if you'll smoke my dmt" thing. Which is retarded, i should have stuck to what i like and she should have stuck her stupid little tactic up her ass. but i wanted to be agreeable. she makes me heinously miserable if i disagree or protest, just as any low to moderately skilled hamfist authority figure would. It's a blunt sword to weld, but fucking heavy enough to be used as a club.
Regardless, she hits the pipe once. The dmt is really good, and she takes three bulbs without much effort. smiles, talks about clowns and a dragon, and very plainly being telepathically communicated with. they said "we've got you" as in, you know not like a shitty hateful evil thing like the wicked witch would say, but like something your parents would say when you're riding a bike. we talk about entity contact and all that, and she goes up again. says she went somewhere she shouldnt have, a skull with sharp teeth/glowing eye, says she should come with a reason or intent. she then talks about being able to have contact with them even a little bit after the big part of the experience is over. i agree that i've noted something similar, but it's more mind based. I say that i'm not sure if it's communication with the subconscious (most likely) or something beyond that (less likely) and that for right now it's ok to talk a little crazy, but when back to normal headspace it's a good idea to apply occam's razor to situations like these. Makes for easier conversation with the normals.
i smoke a little, and i see a silly cartoon dragon. i guess my intent was to understand what she was feeling so maybe i could help her incorporate her experience/advise her on the emotions and feelings associated with it, but as unstable as i was feeling that night it was probably a bad idea. dmt seems to love me though, and everything went fine. the cartoony dragon was pronounced in scales of green with pointy silly triangular red lips. it reminded me of a lego dragon kind of. it was made up of smaller little moving fragments, as typical of most of my dmt experiences as of late. it looked very much like the old style dragons, but a bit more childish. medievil, i guess is how i'd describe it. but in a deliberately hokey way. It seemed silly, and friendly, like jokey kind of. Still, no clowns.
I never get clowns. K gets clowns. Which is really weird, because of how common they are. I've never seen them. I'm curious as to what she's talking about, what everyone is talking about it seems with the clowns/jesters. I get millipedes, and weird goblins that interact with me wearing tripod robot bulbs with feathery leaved plant tendril-tentacles as some kind of inner-space suit, and even glowing lotus-dimensioned hominid-ish shapes. Never clowns. Oh well.
Anyway, we make love. The dmt afterglow enhances things nicely. Her breasts look wonderful in the moonlight coming in through the window. i enjoy the delights of feeling of her sex for a while, and have a pleasantly extend duration of effect. i enjoy a pretty powerful orgasm. Better than typical sex for us.
I took a couple seroquel, and kicked back. I took some vitamins, and a bit of water, and went to bed: glad to have ridden out the most unpleasant bits of another crappy street pill X-perience or... whatever...
That was that!
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crazy fuckin hobby eh?....be on the lookout for the pink running mans my friend
