Jamshyd
Bluelight Crew
- Joined
- Aug 26, 2003
- Messages
- 15,492
This is actually my most recent blog (BL) entry. I thought it would make a good Ketamine trip report so I'm posting here 
. For more info on background events, check my BL blog, especially after I post my 3rd part of the India entires.
Cheers!
------------------------------------
There is a curious pleasure in stabbing one's self with a syringe full of medical-grade Ketamine. Slow and steady, relax, breath, keep pressing down, slow, slow, steady... a good I.M. should not hurt at all...
The needle is then pulled out, and disposed off hygienically. Mere moments pass before one begins to feel it... ahh, that wonderful "loosening" of one's "screws", so to say. And that aetheric smell - one of the most recognizable ever. It permeates ones olfactory senses so long as the Ketamine maintains its effect.
Rapidly, the world outside begins to shrivel away. The traffic, the incessant car horns, the desperate rickshaw bells, the market screams, the scammers, the brahmins, the babas, the sadhus, the lepers, the beggars, the policemen, the children playing in the abandoned mansion beside the guesthouse, the foreigners chatting loudly in the restaurant upstairs, the puja cymbals, the workers howling at each other, the cellphone rings, the barking dogs...... Varanasi crumples away from consciousness and soon is no more.
The rest of the universe doesn't lag far behind Varanasi, either. Soon one is enveloped by only the self, having effectively severed ties with everything outside and behind the skin.
Then, visions of grandeur begin. They are not megalomaniacal, perhaps a good sign of one's mental condition (as I hear some people get seriously egoistic after chronic K use), but they are nonetheless self-aggrandizing or, at the very least, positive.
There is a focus on achievement, opportunity, intellect, realistic solutions to problems, noble ambitions, and so on.
As the blood gets more saturated with Ketamine, one seems to rise beyond the sphere of reality, in which said positive ideas simply have no place, and so they give way to something entirely different*. And the best part is that you can never, ever predict what that something will be! It is always a surprise. Having left fear at the door (for fear is also of the lowly world of words), one is ready for such surprises without hesitation...
I am on the train from Kolkata to Varanasi.
"Chai Chai" the ever-ubiquitous milk-tea peddlers repeat, the mantra of the poor, the moan of the downtrodden. This is the India I have experienced, in four syllables.
"Chai Chai."
You see, in India, every time a train stops at a station, a slew of peddlers, beggars, hijra (cross-dressers), shoe-shiners, charity workers, snack-sellers, thieves... basically anyone, really, gets on the train to offer their goods, rendering the "sleeper" car sleepless as the train stops very frequently. (blue part added for clarification)
"Chai Chai."
Are we there yet?
"Chai Chai."
Deja vu. Perhaps the most common of all Ketamine side-effects.
I've been on this train before. I've taken this trip just a few days ago. So why am I doing it again?
"Chai Chai."
It never ends.
I've been on this train for years.
I have chosen to stop taking Tramadol and...
"Chai Chai."
Ugh, where was I? It doesn't matter. I'm on this train for the sixy seventh time now.
"Chai Chai."
How many stops till Varanasi? Or was it Kolkata that I'm going to?
I have to meet Rob back in Kolkata.
This is the same train I took to Varanasi. No, wait it isn't, let me see how cooperative my eyes are for a minute...
"Chai Chai."
No, the one I took from Kolkata to Varanasi was the "Amritsar Express". This one going the other way is the "Amritsar Mail", as my ticket suggests. Ah Amritsar, the city of the Sikhs... the least I could do is send it some, um, mail...
Dear Amritsar,
It saddens me to inform you that I won't be seeing you on this trip as was planned. Please send the Himalayas my regards, as I won't be seeing them after you, either.
You see, an Angel came into my life. His name is Rob. He convinced me to stop Tramadol cold-turkey. And I did. This is day 4!
Rob had to go back to Kolkata, and I, having decided against Nepal due to reports of border closures and due to my physical unrest, have decided to follow him there. I was not able to book in the same train as he did, but I took the next one, and by tomorrow morning, we'll both be back in Kolkata.
Yours Sincerely,
Yazan.
"Chai Chai."
"Once, Paravati tried to woo Shiva into loving her. But Shiva was actually trying to woo Paravati into doing the same. Neither knew what the other was up to, and both got angry at their failures.
Paravati cursed Shiva. He shall be reborn as a clueless man, wandering around the world aimlessly.
Shiva cursed Paravati. She shall be reborn as a clueless bee, wandering around the world aimlessly.
As they were entering the cycle of rebirth together, they realized their mistakes. But time was running out fast. What shall we do? Shiva said: 'If we touch each other, we shall remember our divine nature...'
And so they were reborn. The clueless youth went wandering around the world aimlessly. One day he found a beautiful flower. As he was about to pick it, he was stung by a bee that was sitting on it. And he remembered, and the bee remembered, and so they returned to their divine nature, and loved each other eternally."
This was one of the tens of stories an Indian student on the train (from Kolkata to Varanasi) shared with me...
I hope I'll remember who I am by the time I get to Kolkata. I hope I don't get mugged. I hope I don't forget anything. I'm very afraid. Very afraid. The pain of loneliness is too heavy to bear...
Oh, looks like I've sobered up a bit?
It seems I'm in a guest-house room. But which one? I don't remember and I don't care. I feel pain. I need Rob. He said he'll be back in a couple of hours. It's only 2:15. I have time. Let's do another shot!
I smell the aether.
I am this.
I am that.
No, I am not. Let's do another shot...
...
Ah, this one is interesting. It is that Ketamine experience.
The universe shrunk considerably, but not completely. It stopped at a certain point. The entirety of human life is reduced to three ridiculous scenarios (missing a LOT of vital information, but still working anyway) which kept cycling over and over again, without reprieve. For example, there seems to be no real difference between up and down, left or right.
And for that hour, this was life, and it has always been that way, and will always be. I may have dreamt of a world with directions, but that was only a dream.
But K-shrunk life goes on.
And on.
And on. Even in miniature, life remains samsaric.
Then it is gone.
The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.
Out of Shiva's third-eye does the world spring to life, and from Shiva's third-eye does it perish in fire.
"Chai Chai."
Back on the train.
When will this be over?
Wait, it actually is over.
I am in my room. And this is the room in Kolkata!
Rob was kind enough to reserve me a room as soon as he arrived.
....
A quick trip to a large pharmacy was fruitful - their last two vials of Ketamine were available for purchase, because as we all know, every foreigner has a horse to tranquilize.
But the two vials eventually end.
I spend days 6 and 7, the worst days, roaming Kolkata in search of more Ketamine to forget my body for a while and run away from the pain. I eventually find one who is willing to obtain it for me for an inflated price (that said, it is still only 20% of it's price back home!).
When I was not doing the K pilgrimage, I spent my time with Rob and another Angel: Maya, who is a friend of Rob's. She makes me laugh, she makes Rob laugh, she makes the locals laugh. And she has a horrifyingly sad story to go with it...
At the end of day 6, I finally get my K. I go back to my room, lock the door, and do shot after shot in a sort of divine frenzy.
I want to obliterate myself to get closer to my beloved.
Maybe this byzantine self-stabbing isn't the best way to go at it.
But at the time it was all I had. I cannot remember how many times I poked myself for the past five days, but the fact that I lost count is alone very telling.
One more stab. One more.
I am not. The beloved and I are one. For a few precious moments...
Note: at lower doses (and also usually with insufflation), one can easily maintain one's self at this positive state without too-severely affecting daily-function. I and several other I know have been able to harness this most unlikely property of a supposed anaesthetic to actually cure depression. See my thread in PD for more info.
Tagged by bindingaffinity
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_achs
substancecode_dissociatives
explevel_veryexperienced
exptype_positive
exptype_spiritual
exptype_addiction
roacode_im
. For more info on background events, check my BL blog, especially after I post my 3rd part of the India entires.Cheers!
------------------------------------
There is a curious pleasure in stabbing one's self with a syringe full of medical-grade Ketamine. Slow and steady, relax, breath, keep pressing down, slow, slow, steady... a good I.M. should not hurt at all...
The needle is then pulled out, and disposed off hygienically. Mere moments pass before one begins to feel it... ahh, that wonderful "loosening" of one's "screws", so to say. And that aetheric smell - one of the most recognizable ever. It permeates ones olfactory senses so long as the Ketamine maintains its effect.
Rapidly, the world outside begins to shrivel away. The traffic, the incessant car horns, the desperate rickshaw bells, the market screams, the scammers, the brahmins, the babas, the sadhus, the lepers, the beggars, the policemen, the children playing in the abandoned mansion beside the guesthouse, the foreigners chatting loudly in the restaurant upstairs, the puja cymbals, the workers howling at each other, the cellphone rings, the barking dogs...... Varanasi crumples away from consciousness and soon is no more.
The rest of the universe doesn't lag far behind Varanasi, either. Soon one is enveloped by only the self, having effectively severed ties with everything outside and behind the skin.
Then, visions of grandeur begin. They are not megalomaniacal, perhaps a good sign of one's mental condition (as I hear some people get seriously egoistic after chronic K use), but they are nonetheless self-aggrandizing or, at the very least, positive.
There is a focus on achievement, opportunity, intellect, realistic solutions to problems, noble ambitions, and so on.
As the blood gets more saturated with Ketamine, one seems to rise beyond the sphere of reality, in which said positive ideas simply have no place, and so they give way to something entirely different*. And the best part is that you can never, ever predict what that something will be! It is always a surprise. Having left fear at the door (for fear is also of the lowly world of words), one is ready for such surprises without hesitation...
I am on the train from Kolkata to Varanasi.
"Chai Chai" the ever-ubiquitous milk-tea peddlers repeat, the mantra of the poor, the moan of the downtrodden. This is the India I have experienced, in four syllables.
"Chai Chai."
You see, in India, every time a train stops at a station, a slew of peddlers, beggars, hijra (cross-dressers), shoe-shiners, charity workers, snack-sellers, thieves... basically anyone, really, gets on the train to offer their goods, rendering the "sleeper" car sleepless as the train stops very frequently. (blue part added for clarification)
"Chai Chai."
Are we there yet?
"Chai Chai."
Deja vu. Perhaps the most common of all Ketamine side-effects.
I've been on this train before. I've taken this trip just a few days ago. So why am I doing it again?
"Chai Chai."
It never ends.
I've been on this train for years.
I have chosen to stop taking Tramadol and...
"Chai Chai."
Ugh, where was I? It doesn't matter. I'm on this train for the sixy seventh time now.
"Chai Chai."
How many stops till Varanasi? Or was it Kolkata that I'm going to?
I have to meet Rob back in Kolkata.
This is the same train I took to Varanasi. No, wait it isn't, let me see how cooperative my eyes are for a minute...
"Chai Chai."
No, the one I took from Kolkata to Varanasi was the "Amritsar Express". This one going the other way is the "Amritsar Mail", as my ticket suggests. Ah Amritsar, the city of the Sikhs... the least I could do is send it some, um, mail...
Dear Amritsar,
It saddens me to inform you that I won't be seeing you on this trip as was planned. Please send the Himalayas my regards, as I won't be seeing them after you, either.
You see, an Angel came into my life. His name is Rob. He convinced me to stop Tramadol cold-turkey. And I did. This is day 4!
Rob had to go back to Kolkata, and I, having decided against Nepal due to reports of border closures and due to my physical unrest, have decided to follow him there. I was not able to book in the same train as he did, but I took the next one, and by tomorrow morning, we'll both be back in Kolkata.
Yours Sincerely,
Yazan.
"Chai Chai."
"Once, Paravati tried to woo Shiva into loving her. But Shiva was actually trying to woo Paravati into doing the same. Neither knew what the other was up to, and both got angry at their failures.
Paravati cursed Shiva. He shall be reborn as a clueless man, wandering around the world aimlessly.
Shiva cursed Paravati. She shall be reborn as a clueless bee, wandering around the world aimlessly.
As they were entering the cycle of rebirth together, they realized their mistakes. But time was running out fast. What shall we do? Shiva said: 'If we touch each other, we shall remember our divine nature...'
And so they were reborn. The clueless youth went wandering around the world aimlessly. One day he found a beautiful flower. As he was about to pick it, he was stung by a bee that was sitting on it. And he remembered, and the bee remembered, and so they returned to their divine nature, and loved each other eternally."
This was one of the tens of stories an Indian student on the train (from Kolkata to Varanasi) shared with me...
I hope I'll remember who I am by the time I get to Kolkata. I hope I don't get mugged. I hope I don't forget anything. I'm very afraid. Very afraid. The pain of loneliness is too heavy to bear...
Oh, looks like I've sobered up a bit?
It seems I'm in a guest-house room. But which one? I don't remember and I don't care. I feel pain. I need Rob. He said he'll be back in a couple of hours. It's only 2:15. I have time. Let's do another shot!
I smell the aether.
I am this.
I am that.
No, I am not. Let's do another shot...
...
Ah, this one is interesting. It is that Ketamine experience.
The universe shrunk considerably, but not completely. It stopped at a certain point. The entirety of human life is reduced to three ridiculous scenarios (missing a LOT of vital information, but still working anyway) which kept cycling over and over again, without reprieve. For example, there seems to be no real difference between up and down, left or right.
And for that hour, this was life, and it has always been that way, and will always be. I may have dreamt of a world with directions, but that was only a dream.
But K-shrunk life goes on.
And on.
And on. Even in miniature, life remains samsaric.
Then it is gone.
The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away.
Out of Shiva's third-eye does the world spring to life, and from Shiva's third-eye does it perish in fire.
"Chai Chai."
Back on the train.
When will this be over?
Wait, it actually is over.
I am in my room. And this is the room in Kolkata!
Rob was kind enough to reserve me a room as soon as he arrived.
....
A quick trip to a large pharmacy was fruitful - their last two vials of Ketamine were available for purchase, because as we all know, every foreigner has a horse to tranquilize.
But the two vials eventually end.
I spend days 6 and 7, the worst days, roaming Kolkata in search of more Ketamine to forget my body for a while and run away from the pain. I eventually find one who is willing to obtain it for me for an inflated price (that said, it is still only 20% of it's price back home!).
When I was not doing the K pilgrimage, I spent my time with Rob and another Angel: Maya, who is a friend of Rob's. She makes me laugh, she makes Rob laugh, she makes the locals laugh. And she has a horrifyingly sad story to go with it...
At the end of day 6, I finally get my K. I go back to my room, lock the door, and do shot after shot in a sort of divine frenzy.
I want to obliterate myself to get closer to my beloved.
Maybe this byzantine self-stabbing isn't the best way to go at it.
But at the time it was all I had. I cannot remember how many times I poked myself for the past five days, but the fact that I lost count is alone very telling.
One more stab. One more.
I am not. The beloved and I are one. For a few precious moments...
Note: at lower doses (and also usually with insufflation), one can easily maintain one's self at this positive state without too-severely affecting daily-function. I and several other I know have been able to harness this most unlikely property of a supposed anaesthetic to actually cure depression. See my thread in PD for more info.
Tagged by bindingaffinity
substancecode_ketamine
substancecode_achs
substancecode_dissociatives
explevel_veryexperienced
exptype_positive
exptype_spiritual
exptype_addiction
roacode_im
Last edited by a moderator:
. Ket and DMT I have yet to do, I got a hold of an ayauscha brew that I am saving for a good day.
