TheAppleCore
Bluelighter
- Joined
- Jul 14, 2007
- Messages
- 5,510
NOTE: The 92 mg dosage was staggered over the course of many hours. I do not advocate 92 mg of MXE as a single, one-time dosage.
Coincidentally, this is the third consecutive report I’ll be posting that describes a trip occurring in my bedroom on a cold and rainy weekend morning, which is unlikely considering the arid climate in which I live. Just to be clear, I don’t intentionally wait for rainy mornings to take drugs. In any case, I find such weather to be an excellent setting for a trip. There is a certain magic in the rain -- anything seems possible in stormy weather.
For some reason, I feel inclined to slowly ease into the high. Unlike some drugs, the come-up phase of methoxetamine is completely free of anxiety. Rather, it is a smooth and enchanting transition into a highly rewarding and satisfying altered state of consciousness. I begin with a mere four milligrams insufflated, then continue with ten milligram bumps every 30 to 45 minutes.
By the time I reach 62 milligrams, the nature of the trip is beginning to transcend mere recreation, and enter a very deeply spiritual realm. I feel as though, for most of my sober life, I have been tightly wound in a protective cocoon, which blinded me to the fundamental nature of reality, out of necessity. Without this shield walling off my consciousness, permitting me to ignore the immense harmony and beauty of existence, I could not hope to devote sufficient attention to the petty concerns of daily life. Survival in the physical, material world is rendered impossible in the face of naked spiritual truth, and hence the truth has remained hidden, by the powers that be, which have given me life.
But, in my intoxication it appears that as the forces of creation give the gift of life, so too they give the gift of sight. I feel as though the perceived cocoon is being unraveled, and I am being freed from its stifling hold. Now there is no barrier that separates me from the raw, unfiltered world, and I can reach out to touch it with my bare hands. It is clear to me that the essence of reality is that of a painting, or a symphony. Reality is fundamentally artful, and the most basic building block of the universe is tantamount to the paint which constitutes a brushstroke in an impressionistic work of art. Not only do I know it, and understand it, but I can see, hear, and feel it all around me! Everything is sublimely beautiful. I can’t avert my eyes from the artful presence of nature -- everywhere I look, I seem to be able to find a sight worthy of being framed and exhibited in a museum! Every noise that I hear is music to my ears. My senses are intensified -- colors are brightened, and seem to take on stronger “personalities”, and sounds are richer.
I become aware that much of the aesthetic value in nature can be found in a characteristic fluidity. There are no truly sharp corners, hard edges, or instantaneous changes. All motion of physical bodies in the universe, for instance, must begin with an acceleration from a standstill: a gradual increase in speed, the sum total of an infinite number of infinitesimal changes in velocity, occurring over a definite span of time. There is no such thing as a physical body that “jerks” into motion, although very sudden or explosive accelerations may appear to us that way. In a similar vein, when you begin to look at the nature of the material world on the subatomic scale, you see that the electron, for instance, has no hard boundary. Although it is sometimes useful to picture an electron as a tiny sphere with a definite edge, an electron is rather a fuzzy field of probability which is infinitely large, but simply becomes less and less dense as it endlessly expands from its center.
Under the direct influence of methoxetamine, I am less aware of this fluidity on an intellectual level, but more aware of it on a primal, visceral level. I can feel it in every aspect of my environment and even my own body. I can see it in the wind of the rainstorm swaying the branches of the trees out my bedroom window. I can hear it in my own voice when I speak words to myself, in the interconnected flow of one word to the next. Even when I blink, rather than an instantaneous flash of blindness, I can see my vision quickly fading and brightening. Every single event that I witness has the quality of liquid mercury being dribbled down a rocky incline -- bright, shiny, animated motion, darting through the ridges of the stone in an unpredictable path, endlessly fascinating, never making an aesthetic misstep.
I begin to experience a shift in my own identity. I no longer feel myself to be a “mere” human being, but I understand that I am really God in disguise. I have cloaked myself in the human form so that I could experience my creation from its own interior, to escape the bird’s-eye perspective of an engineer. I wanted to get lost in the labyrinthine pathways of the complex and colorful world I designed for myself, so that I could experience the mystery of knowing that just beyond the horizon lies something immense and powerful, but incomprehensible. I made myself the protagonist in my own fantasy, so that I could love and relish, and fear and hate, the vast and wondrous world in which it takes place. And I’ve seen it through not only the two eyes of the man writing this report, but the eyes of countless multitudes of creatures that existed long before humanity was a species.
I begin listening to a mix of downtempo electronic music titled Peaceful Solitude, found on MrSuicideSheep’s YouTube channel. The effect of the drug on the music is highly rewarding. I must stress that my appreciation of the music is not only intensified as the result of an inflated emotional response to the music, as I suspect to be the mechanism for the “enhanced musical appreciation” of some drugs. Methoxetamine’s enhancement of the musical experience is completely genuine, intensifying my emotional involvement with the music not forcibly or directly, but rather by truly enriching and complexifying the musical experience itself. The story that is told through the music is measurably more detailed and subtle.
This seems, ostensibly, to be a result of the enhancement of my short-term memory. To better understand, imagine listening to music with no short term memory at all. Since you don’t have any awareness of the past, and certainly no premonition of the future, you live entirely in the present. At any one time, you can only know a single instantaneous slice of the music, which would be maybe a single snap of a stick on a drum, or a single chord on a piano. You can’t piece together an entire musical phrase in your “mind’s ear”, so as to hear a cohesive drum rhythm, or a chord progression, because your mind can never “hold on” to more than one moment of the music at a time. Now imagine the opposite effect -- your short-term memory is elongated, allowing you to construct even more lengthy and elaborate musical statements within your “mind’s ear”. This is precisely the mechanic observed in my perception of the electronic music now playing.
Sometimes, a temporary agitation or depression can result from the confusion of the dissociated state. The drug has a powerful effect of dismantling my intellect, preventing me from being able to comprehend any abstract concepts of significant complexity. I’m reduced to dealing with the world in an almost animalistic, emotional way, rather than a logical and symbolic way, which can sometimes strongly irk my desire to intellectually analyze and categorize everything. I occasionally catch myself trying to assemble a rational view of my current situation, and of course spending much time getting absolutely nowhere. This is a source of frustration, which can be very distracting from the spiritual and aesthetic joys of the trip. It takes practice to be able to accept the “sleepy left brain” symptom of methoxetamine.
The effect of the drug on my perception of reality is so fantastically rewarding that I start to become slightly worried that I will, in my newfound awareness of this divine state of consciousness, be unable to cope with the dull and static nature of sobriety. Thankfully, this does not prove to be true. Rather, if anything, I have a deepened appreciation for my life, and an enlivened inspiration to pursue all of its dazzling possibilities.
Coincidentally, this is the third consecutive report I’ll be posting that describes a trip occurring in my bedroom on a cold and rainy weekend morning, which is unlikely considering the arid climate in which I live. Just to be clear, I don’t intentionally wait for rainy mornings to take drugs. In any case, I find such weather to be an excellent setting for a trip. There is a certain magic in the rain -- anything seems possible in stormy weather.
For some reason, I feel inclined to slowly ease into the high. Unlike some drugs, the come-up phase of methoxetamine is completely free of anxiety. Rather, it is a smooth and enchanting transition into a highly rewarding and satisfying altered state of consciousness. I begin with a mere four milligrams insufflated, then continue with ten milligram bumps every 30 to 45 minutes.
By the time I reach 62 milligrams, the nature of the trip is beginning to transcend mere recreation, and enter a very deeply spiritual realm. I feel as though, for most of my sober life, I have been tightly wound in a protective cocoon, which blinded me to the fundamental nature of reality, out of necessity. Without this shield walling off my consciousness, permitting me to ignore the immense harmony and beauty of existence, I could not hope to devote sufficient attention to the petty concerns of daily life. Survival in the physical, material world is rendered impossible in the face of naked spiritual truth, and hence the truth has remained hidden, by the powers that be, which have given me life.
But, in my intoxication it appears that as the forces of creation give the gift of life, so too they give the gift of sight. I feel as though the perceived cocoon is being unraveled, and I am being freed from its stifling hold. Now there is no barrier that separates me from the raw, unfiltered world, and I can reach out to touch it with my bare hands. It is clear to me that the essence of reality is that of a painting, or a symphony. Reality is fundamentally artful, and the most basic building block of the universe is tantamount to the paint which constitutes a brushstroke in an impressionistic work of art. Not only do I know it, and understand it, but I can see, hear, and feel it all around me! Everything is sublimely beautiful. I can’t avert my eyes from the artful presence of nature -- everywhere I look, I seem to be able to find a sight worthy of being framed and exhibited in a museum! Every noise that I hear is music to my ears. My senses are intensified -- colors are brightened, and seem to take on stronger “personalities”, and sounds are richer.
I become aware that much of the aesthetic value in nature can be found in a characteristic fluidity. There are no truly sharp corners, hard edges, or instantaneous changes. All motion of physical bodies in the universe, for instance, must begin with an acceleration from a standstill: a gradual increase in speed, the sum total of an infinite number of infinitesimal changes in velocity, occurring over a definite span of time. There is no such thing as a physical body that “jerks” into motion, although very sudden or explosive accelerations may appear to us that way. In a similar vein, when you begin to look at the nature of the material world on the subatomic scale, you see that the electron, for instance, has no hard boundary. Although it is sometimes useful to picture an electron as a tiny sphere with a definite edge, an electron is rather a fuzzy field of probability which is infinitely large, but simply becomes less and less dense as it endlessly expands from its center.
Under the direct influence of methoxetamine, I am less aware of this fluidity on an intellectual level, but more aware of it on a primal, visceral level. I can feel it in every aspect of my environment and even my own body. I can see it in the wind of the rainstorm swaying the branches of the trees out my bedroom window. I can hear it in my own voice when I speak words to myself, in the interconnected flow of one word to the next. Even when I blink, rather than an instantaneous flash of blindness, I can see my vision quickly fading and brightening. Every single event that I witness has the quality of liquid mercury being dribbled down a rocky incline -- bright, shiny, animated motion, darting through the ridges of the stone in an unpredictable path, endlessly fascinating, never making an aesthetic misstep.
I begin to experience a shift in my own identity. I no longer feel myself to be a “mere” human being, but I understand that I am really God in disguise. I have cloaked myself in the human form so that I could experience my creation from its own interior, to escape the bird’s-eye perspective of an engineer. I wanted to get lost in the labyrinthine pathways of the complex and colorful world I designed for myself, so that I could experience the mystery of knowing that just beyond the horizon lies something immense and powerful, but incomprehensible. I made myself the protagonist in my own fantasy, so that I could love and relish, and fear and hate, the vast and wondrous world in which it takes place. And I’ve seen it through not only the two eyes of the man writing this report, but the eyes of countless multitudes of creatures that existed long before humanity was a species.
I begin listening to a mix of downtempo electronic music titled Peaceful Solitude, found on MrSuicideSheep’s YouTube channel. The effect of the drug on the music is highly rewarding. I must stress that my appreciation of the music is not only intensified as the result of an inflated emotional response to the music, as I suspect to be the mechanism for the “enhanced musical appreciation” of some drugs. Methoxetamine’s enhancement of the musical experience is completely genuine, intensifying my emotional involvement with the music not forcibly or directly, but rather by truly enriching and complexifying the musical experience itself. The story that is told through the music is measurably more detailed and subtle.
This seems, ostensibly, to be a result of the enhancement of my short-term memory. To better understand, imagine listening to music with no short term memory at all. Since you don’t have any awareness of the past, and certainly no premonition of the future, you live entirely in the present. At any one time, you can only know a single instantaneous slice of the music, which would be maybe a single snap of a stick on a drum, or a single chord on a piano. You can’t piece together an entire musical phrase in your “mind’s ear”, so as to hear a cohesive drum rhythm, or a chord progression, because your mind can never “hold on” to more than one moment of the music at a time. Now imagine the opposite effect -- your short-term memory is elongated, allowing you to construct even more lengthy and elaborate musical statements within your “mind’s ear”. This is precisely the mechanic observed in my perception of the electronic music now playing.
Sometimes, a temporary agitation or depression can result from the confusion of the dissociated state. The drug has a powerful effect of dismantling my intellect, preventing me from being able to comprehend any abstract concepts of significant complexity. I’m reduced to dealing with the world in an almost animalistic, emotional way, rather than a logical and symbolic way, which can sometimes strongly irk my desire to intellectually analyze and categorize everything. I occasionally catch myself trying to assemble a rational view of my current situation, and of course spending much time getting absolutely nowhere. This is a source of frustration, which can be very distracting from the spiritual and aesthetic joys of the trip. It takes practice to be able to accept the “sleepy left brain” symptom of methoxetamine.
The effect of the drug on my perception of reality is so fantastically rewarding that I start to become slightly worried that I will, in my newfound awareness of this divine state of consciousness, be unable to cope with the dull and static nature of sobriety. Thankfully, this does not prove to be true. Rather, if anything, I have a deepened appreciation for my life, and an enlivened inspiration to pursue all of its dazzling possibilities.
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I mean if God wasn't simply created than it achieved its goals through some means to an end....eh? Not to tell any of you out there to attempt to become a God or anything