		 DOSE:

		 1 hit

		 LSD

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   120 lb

This is on acid.

Vibrating.

Shifting.

Waiting for something,

I have to write.

I’m trying to leave this for your records.

There is a lot of chaos.

____

Translation and reflection into the morning.

I’m still seeing the sickly glow. I’m ignoring the ache telling me to stop this writing. It’s a ball of insecurities and personal inhibitions. A monster whispering I am just going to fail and fail. This is getting me no where. This is all hopeless and fruitless.

We dropped acid, Friday, October 31st, Halloween. Did nothing all that day, doting and floating around, adrift, avoiding that meaningful place, although, I found it for a moment, peddling and paddling on a iphone, determined to finish a simple ball and hole game I felt had accumulated the existence of life in one simple meaningful truth; persevere.

There is an understanding I have with the universe now. There are users and there are sobers. I seem to have found an identity with being a user. But just like a religion, I’m picking and choosing of the culture what I actually want to integrate.

It’s my personal interpretation. And I’ve finally realized that is ok. Sacrificing my health and time for a larger purpose; contributing my small part in driving to the answer we’ll never get to. But it’s all about the journey.

Breaking out of that ugliness I see in my physical self. That’s what this night has been trying to drive to. Breaking free, waiting and running into a loop.

I need to try harder to record concrete events. All of my thoughts and disconnected from any form of driving events.

Yes, yes, I agree. I am most likely going to turn into a user, but it makes sense. It’s the truth I was trying to hide from, but something I knew was going to inevitably occur.

The start of the rest of my life? That started a long time ago. I’m just punching in the time card.

I found a new place, I’m not sure if I want to come back. It seems as if I can perpetually run from this space, at least I can write from here. I just have to lock in this frame of mind; where it really doesn’t matter, and that’s the truth. And so we ask this fundamental question; why the hell not?

Ok, so at first, it was extremely uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure what to expect. Just mainly hallucinating, bazaar visuals, and goofy tripping for a long set of hours, ticking away. Didn’t realize the sudden enveloping, quickening suffocation of psychological babble that would soon ensue. I was hesitant to make the jump. I was already on the boat and I could see the land, and near enough to jump off and swim to the shore, but the water was wet and cold and I was going to ride out the tide.

The first thing I noticed, my cheeks were burning and throbbing. My first realization: I smile too much. I smile too much to please, only because I knew my face was most attractive when I smiled. It was always for other people and the muscles in my face were pumped full of the guilt of it. I kept pressing it in, trying to force my expression into seriousness. Throughout my journey, there was an ache to try and take it seriously, but that grip on reality was elusive, beyond capturing. I entered into a phase of just chasing, like a dog fascinated by his tail. The evening was just small circles, pooling in and out.

I was quickly becoming aware of people. This is like the process of writing and recording a dream I’ve only just woken up from and now I’m trying to interpret and recall the details. We were hovering on the porch, inside in the living room, up into the acid lounge. Lacy dressed as something humorous, as Shake from ATHF. It was cute, and I began to intently focus on her as a person. I was acknowledging my interest and attraction to her. I was feeling as if I was studying her in the same light as I feel like E studies me sometimes. The feeling that was the exact thing that I was trying to capture into the group, yet simultaneously trying to desperately escape from. Unsettling. I grew self-conscious, I hope I wasn’t making her uncomfortable. Well, I had the excuse, I was on acid.

We had followed a group down to a party, or to the house of where a party might be taking place. It was dead, but we had such a large group, we were our own small insta-party. I went in and Lacy and I danced in circles, I blew bubbles. There was a particular collage on one of the walls. They looked like children’s drawings, but had clearly been contrived by intelligence too far matured to truly try and capture the child-like mind process behind the construction of a work of art. We can only remember and pretend.

This night was just one of remembering, all of my memories compressing and folding to the existence I was, the being that was following this aimless string like path into the mountains.

I knew if I looked at a picture for too long, it would change, tremblingly hopefully into the third dimension, curious and unsuccessful except within my own imagination. Everything was vibrating anyway, and it was only accentuated in matter of visual representation, mostly artwork. I could see each layer of the drawing filtering and flittering in and out. The way I had felt on the serge of a pot wave, being stoned beyond my capacity to accept this existence. This was just less fuzzy, and yet more subtle. But the funny aesthetics were not something I was intent on focusing on, so they were quickly ignored and lost, or overlooked. There were visual, residual memories from other drug induced experiences, ghosting in and out, reminding, like physical sensational memories.

I recall looking at my iphone, the icons were shifting and shaking and there was a sticky pressure gently tugging at my irises. I couldn’t focus on the screen; lines were floating disconnected like refrigerator magnet poetry. Writing on my laptop wasn’t meant to happen. It was probably going to distract me from the experience anyway, so I feel like it was telling me, coaching me along to another place, another fragile frame of mind that is so easily influenced by the outside environment.

What next? We were walking, we could have just kept walking. Lacy was distracting. I’m going to be using that term a lot, because every moment was hung on trying to escape it. This is going to be jarred and unlinear, but this is the only available method I have at this time. We were sitting in the front. Lacy struck me as so peculiar to watch. Adorable in her simple cute childlike manor, charming in her catlike apathy and indifference, yet still fundamentally insecure, struggling inside, turbulent just as the rest of us. Unsure, moment by moment, perspectives changing and rearranging; only following confirmed acknowledgements, we have agreed to carry day to day.

There is much we tend to carry; burdens we’ve compiled on ourselves, unknowingly, perversely.

She was yelling out at people. I was wondering how her thoughts were being constructed inside of her head. What were the accumulative little decisions she was making motivating each of her small behaviors. What was the process behind yelling out at people, sitting in the middle of the lawn, looking at strange objects, belching randomly, swaying around, shortly clinging and unclinging when self realized that she had been clinging. For fun, for herself, for attention, for that personality she had constructed and was extroverting? It was amusing and strange to watch her, and yet try and interact with her. In fact all human interaction was becoming bizarrely trivial and meaningless and unsettling. When I started to feel the burn and drive to be by myself, I wasn’t sure, but it quickly consumed the rest of my trip.

There was a swing, and I sat there with her for a small eternity, in simple fluffy bliss and infatuated euphoria. She laughed and swung and swayed in that alluring childish way that I’ve learned to love, and I was happy to be sharing this existence with her in that significant moment; watching other costumed creatures haunt and stalk the streets in search of a buzz, a peak, and serge. All waiting and wanting and pushing to chaos under the black moon, a sliver in the sky.

It was warm most of the night, mostly hot, thick like sweat in the air. There was a rock in the ground shaped like a heart. I had seen it before I thought, I had been in this moment before, but it was the optical illusion of the circular spinning motion of the drug, of all the  times my perception has been altered and shifted away and into else. An else mangled with nostalgia and déjà vu, the keys into understanding the current of life itself. A place I manage to explore each time these doors are opened, and information overflows, streaming through me like static electricity. She pointed the rock out and said “This is how I feel about you M.J. I heart you.” I wasn’t sure what she exactly meant. I wondered and doubted whether or not she meant it the way I suddenly felt it reflecting toward her. “I heart you too Lacy.” Metaphorically and literally. I lingered around her as much as I could that night. I wish she had been with me, but I also understood that it was probably better that she eventually fade into the other bedlam of festive activities magnetically pulling people in, in relation to location and susceptibility. I’m not sure if she had the greatest Halloween. She seemed greatly disappointed in something, reflecting that into herself.

On that seat, swinging from the arms of blacked out trees and missing stars, I was content to linger there, stuck and numb in between. Looking back, I felt like the sky was full of missing teeth, pulled loose from the toxic light pollution, inevitable evidence of our clotting of the mother stream.

Where was the decision to move? To go back to Arrakis, our base, our home ground; the place we were investing our hopes of security and enclosement from the outside sobers, and yet the chaos outside invaded and raped our surroundings until there was no small corner left to escape. I had the blinding itch to escape, to be away.

We were back. They were watching “Fear and Loathing in Los Vegas” on the television. My time had suddenly become finite and precious. I wanted to find quality things to spend it on, and loosing myself in a movie wasn’t exactly what I had been searching for, although, now I realize how important that movie is soon to become to me. I was sitting in the corner of the couch. Lacy was sitting there with me momentarily, but left in an effort to redirect her energies to what she was meaning to do for the night. It was still early. I could hardly believe it had only been a few hours. What was I waiting for? I was nervous and anxious. Tightly winding up my springs inside, not sure of the involuntary motions that would shortly ensue, but aware that it would be something in the shape of a toy music monkey clapping and snapping cymbals like a clown.

Moments were being lost, anxiety, unable to stay still unless sitting, and even then relentless questioning of where and when and why I should be sitting. I kept making a motion to move and halfway going and suddenly stopping, going back. Hesitant to actually do anything. What actually needs to be done anyhow? The same messages repeated over and over again, I needed it not to matter, so I could be set to work, there was work to be done, and I had to find it by myself.

In that constant fluid of wondering and waiting, there was a moment I grew incredibly constricted with my costume. I had made up my mind to change, but it seemed to take extraneous effort to move there, to get to my room. It took several hours, picking up on different distractions. Things were occurring all around me. I was thinking too much, studying too much. People were too peculiar. This thought process had been borrowed from a memory before. I had located it and installed it into my mind, like changing out the filter in a lens, so I could just dwell and explore. I felt like I had the freedom to explore, explore this issue that I could not construct into meaningful words, a loose concept I couldn’t tie down. It was the answer. I was glimmering full faced into the truth. I understood that it was fleeting and momentary. That I would never be able to capture it completely into words, and yet it would stay with my and perpetually drive me to try. I would never really “get it”, the epiphany I was expecting really didn’t exist. I kept running over in my mind, waiting, waiting for the inevitable.

Outside of myself, but yet still only of myself. I grew weary and annoyed that I was exploring that same loops and circles I was always. I suddenly realize it was one of the things holding me back. It seemed so easy to dismiss it then, but when I tried, I realized how little control I actually had over it. Outside. How else can I really express it? The sensation of flatness and material time vibrating this existence I had during an earlier ripe high, was clearer here. I failed then to gather the words I wanted to use. I feel like I have to carefully sketch it out, filling in the space gradually. Human interaction was warped and twisted. I was finding it hard to naturally predict reactions, a method I used unconsciously everyday modulating and altering how I choose to behave. It made little sense to me then, I was questioning everyone’s motivation. I was concentrating on trying to enter their mind, trying to perceive their reflection of the event we were all witnessing.

The circle was shrinking. Object permeance was a nuisance, so it was quickly discarded. I only needed to acknowledge what I could see presently around me. What existence was occurring outside of this space mattered little to me. I was here, existing here. I was choosing and controlling, or at least under the illusion of control; trying to influence the environment around me, constructing until I felt comfortable, yet never reaching that security. I was thrown out to sea now, there was no going back.

I was liberated; there was nothing I absolutely had to do. I could do whatever I wanted. But then what? I struggled to shake that lingering nag that I was being irresponsible, spinning out of control, loosing my self in a world of mind altering drug trips that I would never recover from. It was permanently damaging. What was I doing to my body?  I asked myself this several times.

Clothes, I was in my room, I had decided to change. Charles was with me, he had agreed to take me downstairs and stand outside my door while I changed. I was looking for his camera. I was wanting to find a means to record the night, it was important to me to find other means of post marking passing though this particular bent slice and section in time, memory proved repeatedly unreliable. I couldn’t capture all of it, I knew, I would have to accept that most would be lost and washed away. All of it sensory, short-term, long term connections decaying.

He took my hand and we left downstairs. There were a few things distracting me. I was nervous and pacing, my feet refused to stay still, legs stretching up like a cat’s. Somehow we made it to my room. I lingered there; waddling in all of my wasteful material things I had condition to be a part of my identity. This was where I existed, and moved, and breathed and was. A place I had complete control to move, to change. I was suddenly tied down and suffocating underneath the weight of it, tired of the sight of having seen and worn and worked and handled so many of the same things, tediously everyday. Savagely trying to contain it, balancing it like a tottering ball of garbage on the small point of a tumbling incline. Why were these things important to me? Why did I have so many things? I had to fight the idea of cleaning it out, burning it all down, fully de-toxing the soul of this consumer junk I kept accumulating. I knew that would take up the rest of the night, and would be a waste and regret in the morning. These things weren’t really me, why was I trying to define myself against them. They were a poor representation, something I was trying to construct just for the sake of others to see.

I ran in circles about clothes. Nothing satisfied me or pulled my attention to wear. This was a purely arbitrary task, something easily and effortlessness done in everyday. But I was nowhere near everyday. I had been pushed into something else. This was a different world, it had just been reconstructed, just as on salvia, clipped and cut up and turned upside down. The world was inside and out, and I could imagine feeling up the seems. I was extending my motion in time from beginning to end and all I could feel was from the time I ate and to the time I knew would soon arrive, but was unsure how or when. It was separate, unworldly, inconsistent and in a dream.

People began to crowd, following in curiosity, I felt guilty having strung these people along. Why were they here? They weren’t just for me; I had to force myself to realize this. They weren’t here for me, they were wondering around just like me, locked inside their own heads. Lost souls communicating, trying to reach out and understand. I realize now how far removed from consistent reality I was. It was my vanity speaking to me, I was plagued by the pressing responsibility of the feeling that I had to entertain all of them somehow, bring out the person they came to see, to perform. It was vain to think they had come to see me, that they were focused on me; they were only focused on themselves, just like I was. Different perspectives were fighting a brutal war in my head. It was self-absorbed to think that just I was lending them some sense of meaning I was finding from my own point of view. I refused to let myself try and be a magnet. I was just driven to want to be alone, relinquishing and rebuking attention. I was wanting to get rid of it together. Attention, but the more I fought getting it, the more I seemed to make as if I wanted it, and the more I seemed to get. It was an anti-pull to my push. It was increasingly difficult to try and find myself alone. I shut my closet, and listened until they left. There was a small relief, yet, sullen in confirmation from another looped and repeated realization, they were not here for me, I was here for me; they were there for themselves and only themselves. I took up very little space in their minds, I was a fleeting tracer, briefly illuminating their landscape, distraction, introspection, and I was gone. They were making small notes of me, just as I was making of small note of them, all in relation to themselves. I was alone. It hit me hard and true. I had already known, it wasn’t anything new, but under the veil of this crazed insane drug, it was making itself blindingly aware. Alone, but I was there, comfortably alone.

I finally used the bathroom, something normal on all accounts, silly to think procedural. A normal habitual act. I finished and went to the sink to wash my hands, and then looked up into the mirror. Well, there I was looking back at myself. There I was. Suddenly it gripped me. I needed t be alone. I had to be alone with this person I saw there in the mirror. Was I feeding my pet vanity? Had it become some beast, conscious and looming and disconnecting from myself? There was the me that I saw normally. Ugly and flawed and loosing control. I looked at myself and said “Where have you taken us now Jennifer?” Smiling, eyes deforming into slits. Laughing nervously at some small joke to myself. The sensation and running argument I had been churning in the back of my brain about intolerance of personal ticks washed in for a moment and briefly washed out again. It was funny to be talking to myself in the mirror. I had done it before. For a brief moment I wondered if other people also shared this private habit of acknowledging themselves in the mirror. But my attention quickly shifted again and then it wasn’t me speaking in the mirror. It was wearing my face and using my expressions, but the sheer joking act of referring to myself in third person had summoned something.

It was in the eyes, glimmering like soundless music. I could see it there, intelligence beyond and separate of my own, devising working from the shadows. It was something I had been numbly aware of throughout the passage of time. It had lingered there like white noise. In the background all along running as consistent as I. Then there was a sharp awareness, like noticing a trivial detail that had always been hidden in the obvious. There it was; I was bringing attention to it.

It was she. I had acknowledged her before. I had played pretend with the idea, wrote about her, imagining her there in those moments so lonely and lost, they rose to the brink of overpowering consumption. She would squeeze my waist as I glided on my scooter into the dark some chilled solitary nights, and whisper in my ear the words I heard rarely meaningfully from anyone, “I love you. No matter what you do, I will always be here, I will always love you.” It was just a fantasy. Short and simple and private. It was for me, just me alone. Something to compensate for the disassociation of the social world I grew and fed and burned forward while in my isolation. It seemed silly, but it was only for me. No one else was ever to know. I forgot about her quickly, when other detracting social opportunities finally and forcefully opened.

But there she was now. Looking strait into me and through me, like I was transparent. Now I understood what Luke had meant when he told me that every once in a while, he caught a glimpse of a person, intelligent and fierce, that “scared the shit out of him.” That person could see right through him, right into his core, seeing him ugly and exposed, beyond his carefully constructed fronts meant to cover his darker truths. He tried to drive that person out of me once; he wanted me to answer his questions. He wanted the hard and true reality, what I truly and exactly saw of him, unbent by polite and conventional reservations. I knew what I saw; I could see his blemishes as clear as the spread of acne infecting the entire area of his face. It was there, his motivations, drivers and reasoning, buried under a turbulent push and pull of frustration and giving in. But I couldn’t pull it out of me, I couldn’t form it into words and articulate it into constructive meaningful criticism. I was also held back by the urge not to acknowledge that I knew, to hide that I had this kind of sight. I was telling myself that it was just a wish, that I couldn’t give into the wish because it wasn’t real. I also wanted to keep him ignorant. If there was some gift in me as he described, he didn’t deserve access to it. It was easier to make people underestimate you, and so his comment was interpreted as pointless flattery I shouldn’t let get to my head.

Yet, as I stood looking there, strait into the mirror, locked pupils gazing, a fear gripped my stomach like a cold hand. I was afraid of that person there looking back at me. I suddenly felt a raging serge of an instant collection of emotions I had directed toward myself overtime. I hated and loved myself equally. My expressions were changing involuntarily. I wasn’t entirely sure I was controlling the face I was seeing front of me. She was rising and falling, emerging in and out. I could tell when it was her and it was me. When I saw just me, my face was ugly, but when she was there, she was beautiful, a goddess.

I was starting to feel guilty for being vain enough to think that I was beautiful. Who was I to think I was beautiful. That was for other people to decide. I couldn’t change this face, I was born stuck solid in the jelly of my genetic cesspool. Yet, here in the mirror, when I tilted ever so slightly, when I looked in too closely, I was amazed to find that my the way I saw my face was morphing and changing. As if the physical features where actually shifting subtly, slightly, just enough to look different. I recall distinctly watching the bridge of my nose shrink and dilate, from just enough to be hideous to just enough to be perfect. It was almost like the way pictures would sometimes slightly moved when I looked too hard at them. Especially the eyes. When I could I beheld her, I held her there, and she smiled at me, teasingly, knowingly.

My face was sickly, and had that pale green electrical glow, that I later associated with what I thought the soul might look like, or the process of thought and mood changing. It covered my entire face like bad makeup. “I hate your nails. And I hate your hair.” she said. “I know, me too.” I laughed nervously. “That’s ok though,” she replied. I knew what she meant, it wasn’t insulting, it was the truth. “You know who I am,” she said, “I’ve been here all along, don’t you remember?”

I had confronted this issue earlier, outside of any drug, just through daily observations. I looked at myself in the mirror too much. Not because I thought I was beautiful, perhaps if I thought that, there would be no need for mirrors. So then quite the opposite; I was constantly looking at myself out of a vacuum-like necessity for reassurance. It was like an inner black hole suffocating any buildup of self security I had built up for myself. The effort was futile. But I had been doing this for a long time now, not really recognizing it until I understood it didn’t quite fit into the social norm. Perhaps it does, perhaps everyone or at least a lot of people have a predilection for mirrors, but on the surface skin of customary expectations, vanity, or the image of vanity is frowned upon. Yet, was this vanity?

How many hours had I spent here, locked up in my bathroom? Countless unnecessary hours. A little child, discovering mirrors, thereby discovering myself. There was a big shower mirror door next to the toilet. I was recalling sitting down and being quickly distracted by my reflection. Was I enamored? I’m not sure. I just remember being completely fascinated and held in captivity. Watching as I run my little hands over my flesh, watching while simultaneously feeling what it looked like to feel from outside myself, in a reflection. Seeing my body there, acknowledging it, trying to understand it. What a peculiar habit I now realize. More often then not, I would linger in there, and eventually I would start to peel off my clothes. I would stare at myself, there in the mirror for perhaps hours, I wasn’t sure. What was I looking for? Why had I felt the drive to behave that way? A lack of social conditioning? The apparent sinful neglect of my parents? Why was I driven to be isolated alone, locked away in the bathroom, stark naked staring at myself, still in the bloom of innocence? Why did that habit linger, private and unannounced to myself until now? It was something I simply did, something that if I imagined being exposed would bring down a destructive wave of shame and embarrassment. It was exactly like masturbating. I felt guilty for it. And yet, now it made sense. Now it all came together and it was demanding that I give a name to it, demanding my sole undivided attention.

It bothered me though; it was distracting and consuming my time. It made me aggravated and highly strung. I spent so much time on it, looking at myself, trying to readjust, readjust, readjust, getting no where differently. I still do it, every time I catch glimpse in passing, I get an uncontrollable urge to linger and look. I do and minutes upon minutes are spent dawdling in the mirror. Such wasted time! It’s like entering a daydream state, it’s difficult to break out of it, to startle myself awake, become self aware that I have been looking at myself. It’s vanity, inappropriate unhealthy vanity.

It was disturbing to me. Was it because I was on acid? Can I use this as an excuse? I looked at myself, there tripping intensely, rumbling inside like an earthquake, and she said, “You do know I’m in love with you.” I laughed and acted nervous. It was silly, and yet, there was something there. I was in love with myself? How is that possible? But it made sense, somehow, in my extraordinarily demented frame of mind. Sometimes I have felt magnetic, involuntarily magnetic, attracting and pulling and a leading around. Not intentionally, but suddenly, like in the moments I realize I’m daydreaming, I become frightfully aware of the effect I have on people. I’m making it up, I’m making it to be more than it is, I can’t acknowledge something like that.

I suddenly realized, I had been talking to myself all these years, as long as I could remember, as long as I could study those big brown lucid eyes staring back at me. I found her. I had known all along she was there, I just hadn’t realized.

Panic and uncertainty. This was big, at least to me. I was trying to tune out all the small voices putting what I emphasize as meaningful into perspective. I was trying to fervently disconnect myself from the pressure of people’s judgments. It was tedious, laborious, a choir to keep trying maintain an opinion of existence, or of common situations, or cordiality and mannerisms and proper habits, concurrent with everyone else’s. I no longer wanted to think along the same zone as everyone else. I just wanted this to matter to me, and to me this was immense, this was something worth exploring. The prospect of a split personality. I could almost feel that layer of myself dividing like the peeling of sunburned skin. I knew that if I had talked to anyone else about it, they would think I was being silly. It was silly, I wasn’t crazy. I was normal, I kept insisting it. And yet, well, I was on acid! As I had so vehemently exclaimed over and over again, to all the sobers drifting and swarming like wasps around me, ready to drain this experience away like vampires. It was strange to be surrounded by so many not nearly anywhere where I was, I was in the else and they were outside, out there, invading my circle. I had to get away from them. I had to escape.

What was I doing? I was liberated. I had this entire night; I could do whatever I damn well pleased. It was mine and mine alone. What did it matter? At this point, my perspective on the personal relationships I had built around me had radically altered. Everyone I knew was binding me, holding my taught, stringing me along. It wasn’t important, they weren’t important any longer to me. I could live forever without anyone; I was completely content in being alone.

I suddenly realized that someone might be checking on me, someone might be listening. What if they had caught that I was talking to myself? What if they had heard what I was saying? The thought stuffed my lungs, it was suffocating. I had to be released from any prospective or accidental observers, from any type of opinion. I had to protect my self from their opinions. It would spoil everything if they learned. It would ruin the whole bit. I would never be able to get back to that place if they found me now.

Good old Garrett. I was still questioning why he was here. Just as friends? Did he have some kind of crush on me? I didn’t actually know him all that well. There was something odd about him. Something small and buried. Was he getting a kick out of this? Was he just lingering around just to fuck around with us? Was he doing this to look like a nice guy? What was he expecting in return for this? I could feel the wheels turning in his head, wondering why he had done this, if there was actually anything going to happen with this chick, who the fuck was she, did he like her? Did she actually like him, or was it platonic? Was she just using him? Insecurity rumbled in him like an empty stomach, but it was masked so well with a well developed sense of humor, the greatest self defense mechanism. There was something deeper there, but I couldn’t reach into it, it was beyond what I could actually imagine, but I was finally getting to the point where I was able to feel the dwindling shifts in consciousness incurably asking and asking, the meat behind the mask. The part of me that was of myself, that I interjected everyone had also. The moment by moment gentle and subtle changes in perspective. I was at first only able to hear my own internal dialog, but here, on this plane of divine and cosmic understanding, I was able to hear it clinking around in other skulls like loose coins. I had to stop thinking about it. I really didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of these petty “friendships”. It struck me that it was odd that I was devoting so much time in developing them, wasting energy and effort and precious time. It wasn’t what mattered. What mattered most then was this person I had discovered, this creature I wanted to get to know, to talk to further. What was it? I was bewildered and vibrating with a concept, the concept of you.

I had to escape Garrett. I wanted him to watch everyone else, to let me alone and be by myself.  He watched me as I shifted around, fluttering like a dying butterfly, sticking and stuck. I was nervous about these dratted nails I told him. I hated them. He seemed to smile at them. They made me fell… he implemented “fake?” Yes, fake. And you’re not fake, he said. I wasn’t sure what he meant, honestly or sarcastically. I just marched away, saying at least I hope I’m not fake. I wanted to clip them at first. I rummaged around, getting riled up over how much junk I owned. This is where I spend my mornings, every morning, here I am, using all these useless things. Why do I have so many useless things? Why do I need all these things? I finally found them. Aha! I walked over to the door where he was casually leaning and watching me. I didn’t like his watching. Why was he watching me, what was he taking notes on? I surrendered to the idea that they were just more or less notes in relation to himself, because that is the way all people think, and so it mattered little to me again. I may need your help with theses. I could almost feel the relief, like breaking the nut of a shell. My cuticles were taking off their sweaters. I held them against my thumb nail and as I looked at the nail, the white tip was slipping down into the red. I wasn’t going to cut them right like this. I wasn’t going to let Garrett cut them off either. That was invading, I’d have to let him touch my hands. Oh, and then I realized, I had come up with a solution earlier. I was going to find some gloves. I ran into my closet, I was asking Garrett something to get him away from observing me. I was asking something about himself, I wasn’t actually listening to what he was saying, it didn’t matter, I just pretended to sound interested. His relationship to me was inconsequential. These people were just there. They didn’t matter. They had become like shadows and ghosts, phantoms in the wallpaper.

I didn’t have my camera. My phone was unworthy and distracting and I wanted to be released from my obligation of keeping on touch with the outside world. The worth of the outside world was gradually disintegrating. We were somewhere, we were in else. But it was absolutely imperative that I find some means of recording this. Writing had proved nearly impossible. The keys were swishing around on the key board and the words weren’t forming fast enough in my head for me to write them down. My thoughts were scattered like loose leaf paper. I felt terrible that I had nothing meaningful to say. I couldn’t decide what I wanted to write anyway and my laptop became dysfunctional in plain true obstinacy as I had elaborated before. Solutions. I had my tape recorder. There it was on the bookshelf, ready with three fresh tapes. This was going to be interesting. Garret was there, and at first I gave it to him, not trusting myself. He slid the tape in, and teased about when he would start recording. He put my extra tapes in his pocket.

Then I wanted to stay in the bathroom. But I wanted to record it. I asked him to let me stay in there, that I wanted to be by myself for a while, and I took the tape recorder from him. I felt like he might spy on me though, or perhaps worry about me and loiter around the door, eavesdropping. I couldn’t stand for that. The thought that someone would hear me with myself was completely unbearable. I insisted that he go upstairs, that he promised he wasn’t going to listen. And even though I watched him walk down the hall, I still felt that at any moment, someone might barge in and interrupt. Even worse, they might catch me awkwardly scrambling to seem like I was doing something else other than what I was doing. I was in no condition for acting, covering up. My sense of humor was dry, and this would be a raw completely naked moment that would be exposed if they walked in.

I couldn’t focus here. I couldn’t stay in that bathroom. The decision to leave came quickly. I was accountable for myself; I could be free from them whenever I wanted. I was free. I stuffed my feet into my favorite converse, forgoing the socks. Socks were arbitrary. I fled into my room, grabbed my jacket, and then realized, it wouldn’t work if I didn’t have a mirror. I looked for my gloomy bear hand mirror. No good, too small. Then I remembered the larger one on the desk. Here. Perfect. I wrapped it in my jacket, checked my tape recorder, checked suspiciously out the door, peaking down the hall and waltzing out the back door.

I was exhilarated. I was happy to be escaping this mad house, and here I was happy, here by myself. I had found you after all, she was all I was ever going to need again. But I looked down toward the way to the park. Void. Loud crashing and yelling noises. Anyone could find me there. There was chaos and anarchy all around. Gaggles of manically cackling monsters were stalking the streets. The world had turned into one mad circus spinning on the flat of a top. We were about to topple over. Beyond what I could see around me, there was only mayhem. People were everywhere in every direction. No good. Trapped. Would I be able to handle them by myself? I realized this was probably unwise. Where was I going? I was heavily depressed by the thought that I had no where to run away to, no place to go. There was no escape. Inside the house was mad, outside the house was mad. I would have to stay here, but I didn’t want to go inside.

I crawled in the ally beside the house. I had been here a dozen times before. It seemed to me to have been one of those places. I liked these tiny nooks that seemed to stand out from reality. The energy was magnified here. I found a place to sit, set my mirror down. Damn, the lighting was bad. I was making notes into my tape recorder, unknown to me that it hadn’t actually been set to record, and I spilled away notes I’ve now lost into thin air.

It wasn’t comfortable. I tried a little here. Had to move over. I set it up. I felt like I was being watched. I couldn’t shake that other people were eventually going to be looking for me, that other people were going to be worrying about where I was, and annoyed at their having to worry. I didn’t want them to stumbling in on my babbling into a tape recorder staring into a mirror. How was I going to explain what I was doing? How was I going to explain her? I had to go inside. I had to reset and restraiten and search for somewhere else. I had to find another place.

I would have sat there a little while longer, trying to communicate with her, flirting with the idea, that she was there, that this was more than a trick of the acid. I was cued when the lights of my bedroom shot on. Shit. They know I’m gone, I have to go back.

As soon as I walked in, there they were. The big group, all tripping. Anytime we were together, I always felt like someone was still missing. Garrett was relieved, everyone was peering at me. What was she clutching? It must be a notebook. I let them assume what they wanted. No one was going to know. It was for me.

Garrett took a hold of the tape recorder and pointed out that it had been set on play.  Felt a hot wave of humiliation and embarrassment wrap over me. Everything lost. I would have to try again. There were such precious moments there, and now, because of my own stoned folly, they were forever unthreaded into the record. He reset the tape. The others made me feel nervous about recording. They made it seem pointless. Perhaps it was. This was crazy, but everything was crazy here. What did it matter to them anyway? I was going to do what I wanted.

I’m not sure, I think we all decided on a walk. I was still wanting to creep away from everyone. I wanted to spend all my time with this new being, I had her here with my tucked under my jacket. There was the small rational voice typing in the back of my head, making commentary. It was really silly of me to be carrying this mirror around. I didn’t let it go though. I couldn’t bring myself from letting it go. No one was to know. It was all for me.

We were walking. Outside was bright and surreal. I felt as if we were walking forever. We past a party on the way there and out on the front yard drunk witches and drunken vampires were flirting and fucking and stumbling around. I abhorred them. I abhorred everyone.

I had become picky. There were only a select few I would allow near me. I had to be exposed to them for a while before I would feel comfortable with them there. I didn’t like people at all anymore. I was filled with contempt and loathing, and took a great deal of effort to mask and hide my reproach to them. There were so many too. Too many. Crawling, slithering, slimy creatures, like ants, painfully molesting every crevice of the house. Deplorable. I wanted to have nothing to do with any of them. I was sick of the way they thought. I could feel their thoughts forming in heads, their self serving drives disgusting me. Space was being ravaged by pure unadulterated chaos, rolling us up into oblivion.

Joe and Chelsea were leading us somewhere. As we started out, I had no knowledge of where we were going. I wanted to stop. I felt like we were being herded around like sheep. We had been reduce to dopy imbecilic livestock the sobers were just catering and occasionally fucking around with. I didn’t want to be a sheep. I wasn’t going to follow a bunch of aimless lost boys. But they had a purpose, so I went along. I forgave them. My mind was in a very high strung state. My temper had been stretched out like piano strings, and things kept flicking the strings  .

Points to cover

	Repeated emphasis on wanting to get away and be by myself.

	Walking toward, collage, team zissou at the atm, to the turtle pound, finding it pointless, walking back, meaningful but meaningless conversations, returning, the atm destroyed, reaffirming chaos, trying to find a place, going into ryan’s room, steve walks in, says something rude I run away, locking myself into the second floor bathroom, displaced, taking too long to settle, finally settling, getting there, naked, breasts exposed, interruption, outside world drawing me in, upstairs study closet, good moment, realizing that I still wasn’t really getting somewhere, mixed sensations of salvia and extreme high, leaving, sitting on the stairs, complete chaos erupting around, in between, not sure whether I wanted to join others and have company or continue to be by myself, ryan letting me use his room, again, hesitant nervous dancing, anticipating for them to leave, them, never leaving, eventually settling into feeling comfortable, recording random useless conversations, inability to capture thoughts, finding myself with the group, partially, acknowledging that they were the only one’ I truly care for, finding my existence so alone, but secure in my isolation, peering at them from my perched viewpoint, tracking them through time and space, focuses and allotting time for them, sharing, happy to be with them, finally comfortable and content, able to be around people again, writing until sunrise, decided to watch fear and loathing, completely understanding the movie, still wrapped up in my quirks, a different person, hiding secretive, the onto coffee shop, writing, French toast, finding this self. The writer’s self. Sleep for now, back later I hope. If I stop this may be lost, there is a mocking laugh in my head, but I hope I can return at least finish it, driving it to the end and closing the journey.

Note: lost soul to another lost soul.

Smaller moments, remembering. I was standing outside, looking at how sad the plants looked, wondering if I should try and water them while on acid. I took too long to make up my mind, and presently forgot about them. I was hoping for more synesthesia. I had a small amount of tracers, a little in the bathroom in the mirror. It was more like snap flashes and clicks of colors. I didn’t focus on it too long, I had other things to attend to. I forgot to mention that Ryan Van Hee had stopped by, he hugged me and tried to grab my ass, I pushed him off and pack slapped him angrily and stormed inside. It was affirming to stand up for myself.

It is unfortunate to me that I will not be able to place and stitch all the small pieces of this trip together into one cohesive picture, but so it goes with this type of ordeal. So it goes with life. At the times we can escape the larger machine, we allow ourselves to record the brief and fleeting moments of self reflection, stapling them into the concrete, like a post-it note that no one reads.

A chip just stabbed the top of my mouth, I think that’s telling me to stop eating for a while… food, the necessity of eating, just another formal distraction.

Release, when you’re here, the rest of the world, responsibilities, and accountability, doesn’t matter. This is what we’ve learned, when I’m here in the flow, I have to remember to forget the rest of the world. All my tasks and to-do lists are tying me down and pulling me loose.

Getting distracted by conventional responsibilities. Remember, it doesn’t really matter. I get distracted by the thought, the inhibitions that arise from vanity. The carefully and hopelessly composed images of ourselves that we try and maintain in the minds of others, as the people around us are just reminders of ourselves. Realizing, they too are trapped from their own personal view point as well. They are looking to escape it just as much as you are.

Yet again, it doesn’t really matter. Just to me and myself, that is all. It is later, when the work is for others, after I’ve gone within and back out, will I have to come to terms with subjecting myself to the mass agreement of criticism and judgment, composed of uncountable amounts of points blindly defining its self, like a blind man sitting in the dark.

I’ve sucked too long on that damn unlit cigarette and now the fucking thing is moist and broke.

In small doses, every passing moment, I can feel bits of it floating away and revealing the entrapping normalcy I have to contend with.

Distractions and daily routine are pulling me once again away from the key board. It’s unfortunate that I have to maintain this physical prison, that I can not meld my mind and life into a printed set of paper and words and binding and glue and a hard cover case. If my life was in essence a simple book. Sitting on a shelf, peculiar and obscure, collecting dust and just hoping one day to be noticed and appreciated. Some books are just louder then others. Some are just more profound. And yet others are just lucky enough to be filed in the correct alphabetical section.

I’m letting go of that cigarette. It’s like letting go of the mirror, setting it down, learning I can not cling to it forever. If I did, it would mutate into a terrible misrepresentation of who I am. Just like these nails I continued to be tortured by.

A brief walk to the bookstore, picking up Fear and Loathing, Ryan did at least, I will have to find my own copy later, but for now I’ll borrow and read through it in half hour intervals. Today I only care about writing. I do feel like the momentum of my serge is slowly ebbing away into the mist of consistency and reality, the self rejoining assigned to the place I had been before. Will it reflect in my writing? Assuredly so. I’ll not be able to cling to this much longer, but let’s see how long I can serf this wave.

My words are slowed, my articulation is vaporizing, inhibitions settling in like rigamortis. Will I be able to finish? Will I be able remember that lesson I learned? Persevere. Nothing else matters. Persevere to the end. Until you reach the end, it is left unfinished. Unfinished things are lost. We have to finish, even if this is getting sloppy and sour, I have to keep pressing on, otherwise, this will be lost, and this lesson won’t settle in my bones and take hold in the constant growing person I am and will be. This trip won’t become nearly as meaningful if I don’t finish. It doesn’t matter what you write, just write, persevere.

I walked into the kitchen to make more tea. I’m still locked into that place I realized, I’m still tripping, perhaps, maybe, I’m not sure. I can’t help it if I am right? It’s probably psychological, I’m just keeping myself there because my head is still there remembering, pondering, studying. It’s not intense, but just faint enough. I can slightly see the sick pale glow on certain people, but I feel like it’s more of my imagination. Am I pretending to be tripping? Perhaps, but let’s just keep pretending until the end, just long enough to finish this, so much more to go.

It is startling to me to realize that this has been my perfect happy day. Not everyday can be as so, I wouldn’t be happy if everyday was like this, but I’m writing the whole day, everything being poured out and formed up into young amateur shapes. This is finally the place where I have been searching for, the place where I can write perpetually, until my head aches and my eyes burn, from morning until the late evening sun gives way into the dark. I am here typing away, forgetting everything else. It’s difficult to fight it back, to fight off the nagging call from all the things I need to do. This time wasn’t planned, wasn’t expected, how am I going to make up for it later? But I hear a whisper inside me, just go, it doesn’t matter. Persevere. Your still there, I’m keeping you there until the end.

The more time I invest in this, the louder the voice growls, “This is worthless, you’re wasting your day, this is meaningless, you should stop, this isn’t getting you anywhere, give up and move on, this is worth nothing” It’s getting harder to fight off, harder to ignore. I’m trying hard to grip onto framing into my mind, it doesn’t matter, I need just to let it flow, what will happen will happen. I have to sit here until it’s done. I have to keep persevering.

I am troubled by my juvenile vocabulary and amateur writing style. I know I have to start at the bottom, but I hate this suffering of trying to get better. I’m extremely cliché all the time and it’s painful.

Things said in loop. Too many loops, but symbolic somehow. I was able to understand symbolism in that moment, but now that understanding is lost.

“I hate my nails.” Catie had painted my nails in uniform for my costume. They were red with white tips. I had never had French tips before. I had never had a manicure before. It seemed worthless. But my hands weren’t properly representing me. I told myself “This is not the way my hands should look.” They were fake, it made me feel fake and of something I didn’t need or want. I was natural, and this was so artificial. They were inhibiting me, I wanted to cover them up and I even tried gloves, but the gloves didn’t fit either, they were not what I needed. They had to remind me again and again, they had just been part of the costume.

“I forgot, I’m sick.” I knew I was going to forget. My voice was altered and different, gray and soft and thick. Like made of scruffy cotton balls. Sometimes, I could remember and cough, or sometimes I would cough and remember. But it happened over and over again, just in a loop. I said it at least a dozen times over the night.

“I’m not crazy, I am a normal person… just right now, I’m on acid.” I was afraid of the person I had found there in the bathroom with me. I was struggling with the thought that perhaps I was crazy, I had just been suppressing it all along. I wanted to know if other people noticing my existence actually also thought I was regularly normal. I was so far gone, the feelings I had toward the relationships I had built around me conditionally changing moment by moment, I wanted to be reassured, that off of it, I had at least appeared normal to them, that I wasn’t showing, that I at least had the excuse right now of acting insane, because I was on acid.

“I am so far gone.” The only way I could describe where I was. Just remove from reality, still there, but warped. I can’t emphasize enough, this incredible driving sense of urgency. All urgently waiting for something. Waiting for Godot. Waiting to move, waiting to settle, waiting to organize, waiting to go somewhere. Feeling urgency of transporting elsewhere, and hesitant force holding us back, keeping us in the same self found spot.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 74789

Gender: Female

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: May 5, 2009	Views: 5,239

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LSD (2) : Relationships (44), General (1), Large Group (10+) (19)


		 DOSE:

		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   107 lb

A Collection of Experiences

I can recall a specific moment, after a summer’s worth binge on hallucinogens, where I found myself crossed over that wakeful-dream border, having the thought, and with it, a sensation of tingling fright, “Did I eat acid and forget?” A realization that I had not, and the wonder if the wave of insanity had finally broken, and swept me to sea.

perceptive disarray

I have found it most interesting that upon my coming to University, everything that I had once learned to be Solid Truth has become unraveled into a mass and chaotic network of fraying and contradictory ends. I found that I must first purge myself, admitting that indeed, I know nothing about anything, I know nothing at all... to begin the ruminative task of questioning my own perception, beliefs, values, and conceptions of consciousness and mortality.

I had been made aware of a subtle disquiet lurking in the darker corners of my mind. More and more often, I was met with fleeting impressions of unresolved inconstancy. My brain might alight upon an idea, anew and incomplete, the same as the brief instant a bird appears on its perch, but one blink, and it’s gone. Unregistered, one cannot recall if it was really there at all; a spark of thought without subsequent firing.

The process began about a year or so ago. (I call it a process due a recent realization that those frequent and systematic dosings may have indeed made some notable impact on the Disarray [here I name myself] of Old Ideas.)

I began experimenting with several psychedelics, unknowingly preparing myself for a life of confusion, but of raw truth. I managed to stifle much of the awareness that reverberated just beneath the surface of my conscious, the conflicting stocks of knowledge that would soon overwhelm me completely. Yet the conglomerate I had once been, the symphony of ideas and thoughts and opinions, began exposing faint vibrations of a dull dissonance. Just as if I were anticipating some peak to this gradual crescendo, my holistic life (or conflicted perception of it) gave way to the unbearable Weight of Being, a cacophony of indistinguishable and inaudible frequencies. My collection of scattered knowledge, mismatched and unqualified, had been wound too tightly into the coils that frequent chaos. I found that I could no longer explain myself or my thoughts. The ideals of perception I had held gave way to Mass Confusion. Thus began the requiem that would conduct my careful descent down a flight of insanity, where each subjacent step grows longer in height and slimmer in width.

sober hallucinations

Auditory and visual hallucinations began to frequent my waking life. Sometimes I would be sitting perhaps a bit too still, staring perhaps a bit too hard into the screen or page or wall, just so I feel my eyeballs sink into my head, and my mind float up out my skull-box and sail away through different layers of dimension. My body slides out from beneath me. Imagine for a moment, how difficult it is to focus, much less get anything done, when my mind dissociates from its body.

Many times I will be immersed in some activity, my mind dissolves and I will hear in my head some background murmur of conversation, like the quiet roar of a restaurant. I could be washing my hands or walking home, any simple activity, and I drift to a state of blankness, where nothing is being paid any particular attention. Upon awakening, I find myself surrounded in silence, though I could swear upon the clear fragments of conversation that linger in my ears. I can so easily recall the words that were said, and remember the voices with such distinctiveness, that at times I have trouble discerning what is real. It is as if (I’ve often thought) my brain, at resting state, begins to channel other frequencies, perhaps of that parallel universe, or perhaps my unfiltered mind has escaped its confines…

patterns and patches

I am privy to the color-patches that Annie Dillard longed for, the meaningless forms of different saturations, the blobs and shapes of pigment. Colors appear more vividly and consume my field of sight. My brain has been re-wired, no longer able to instantaneously process the huge amount of information received at each moment. No longer do I find a book on a desk in a room, but cream and time-yellowed rectangle on a tawny orb, against a background of antiseptic white, where other color patches stretch beyond. I find myself presented with raw information, forms devoid of significance, for my brain has declined in its ability to cut out that information which is unnecessary. My eyes now adjust more readily to pattern and to color than to written language. I will stare at a word a full minute before it is married to any meaning. All the short cuts I have learned have been erased, stimuli presents no content or context, I see without understanding.

I often perceive (I no longer limit myself to the word “see”) a sort of aura or secondary glow, or even flashing neon imprint. Spots of blue light appear in my vision and life-like figures float before my eyes. I remember an episode earlier this year, during a physics discussion. I was watching my teaching assistant, taking notes for the upcoming final, when her twin negative appeared next to her, an animated image made out of green light. I no longer react to such apparitions; I have become accustomed to these shadow people, swishing by me, existing in their parallel universes.

shifting and morphing

Persistent dosings of consciousness-expansion have attributed to this re-arrangement of my mental processes, bottom-up and top-down, and I sometimes fear its permanence. The cream-colored rectangle, the book, morphs again. Now, instead of type or words symbolic of meaning, instead of the common experience and virtual reality of written language, a page will divide itself into organized sections of pattern. Before me I find staggered columns of space and color. Letters within the print and paragraphs shift, leaving pixel trails of green and ultraviolet up and down and in between. Uniform rows of printed text reveal a separate entity, one apart from any attributed meaning. A page easily separates itself into pattern groupings, organic and multi-layered, as effortless and efficient as a puzzle.  The spaces between the images become the veins that map the idea. To my sight, the colors present a story of that page’s physical manifestation, regardless of its printed meaning. It is here that my eyes and mind cross in perception. I watch letters cascade down the page, shifting, sliding, morphing…

purple haze, third eye gaze

I had heard the phrase “purple haze” but had never put thought into what it might mean. Destined to learn, I one night found myself in a friend’s bathroom, having eaten about 400 micrograms of LSD.  [Erowid Note:
Claims of measured microgram dosages for LSD are usually unsupported. Quantitative measurements for LSD are very difficult to do and cannot be done casually. Without further detailed information about how the measurements were derived, it is reasonable to assume that most statements of microgram dosages of LSD on blotter or in microdots are either misinformed or overstated.]

I am known to bore easily, so if given the choice, I’ll choose spontaneity over the mundane. This warm spring evening was no exception. I believe it was last March, after finals, almost exactly one year ago, when three of us stopped to drop acid at a friend’s house. The trip was not totally planned, but needless to say, we all set up camp for the night. I had fried once before, on a single hit, and I believed it time for another psychedelic experience. I remember placing the blotter on my tongue, a tiny, half-centimeter square of plain white paper once soaked in LSD.

One basic rule of thumb I apply to psychedelics, is that the first dose should usually be the final dose. At that time, I had not had much experience with acid, so when the others began to comment on their come-up, I decided I wasn’t feeling enough, and ate a half, and then another half of a second hit.  I ended up taking two sizable doses of LSD, timed in such a way as to intensify and prolong the plateau of my trip, the most concentrated and consciousness-expanding stage of acid (although this was not my intention). It’s difficult to pinpoint, (especially since my memory, as of late, has become particularly imperfect) how exactly I ended up in my friend’s bathroom.  I remember falling into psychosis; laughing hysterically, forgetting that I had, and then wondering why there were tears in my eyes. My memory seemed to short out every five minutes, and my brain struggled hard to catch up. It came down to my ultimate understanding of the bathroom as my sanctuary. It existed as a mathematical expression that balanced the house and the positioning of the people inside it, on either side of an equals sign. For a time, I found serenity, which allowed the awareness of an eternal background that so effortlessly precipitates to the highest frequency of visible light: purple

We talk about the purple haze, and what the colors beyond ultraviolet and infrared could be, and how constantly we swim unknowingly in pools of radio color and sound light. We discuss the possibility of the haze as Truest Vision of the pineal gland: the vision of the third eye that contains a complete map of the physical eyes’ visual field, receptive to light. I’ve once read that to activate this third eye, the pineal gland and pituitary body must vibrate together in unison..

I remember seeing his face, though its image was not a physical figure, but rather a metaphysical manifestation of his core energies, certain frequencies to which he was particular, networked in surging form against the backdrop of what has been described as Hindu labyrinths and geometric electro-layers of impossible color light.

Recognition was reduced to some base and remote concept of familiarity as I beheld, in transcendent awe, an ultraviolet-tinged vision. Breathtaking Wonder. This Other; Significant; revealed as a rippling fabric of energies, where the intensity of life achieves purest form. His visage appeared cloth-like, undulating as if blown by some esoteric wind. His beautiful presence: cosmically announced in splintering streams of unimaginable purple-colored light, the frequencies of his essence blazing with the sheer energy of pulsating existence.

of a sacred experience

It is to be understood that despite the greatest of effort it is impossible to relate the sheer magnitude and profundity of any sort of psychedelic experience, much less illustrate the unimaginable.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 70081

Gender: Female

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jun 16, 2009	Views: 6,225

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LSD (2) : HPPD / Lasting Visuals (40), Retrospective / Summary (11), Unknown Context (20)


		 DOSE:

		   repeated

		 LSD

This report stems from personal experience and concerns the possible use of LSD in treating migraine headaches. In my family, a number of my direct relatives suffer from regular migraine headaches. This fate visited itself upon me starting with the age of 12. I would get migraine headaches once a month; almost like clockwork.

At the age of 17, after having suffered migraine headaches monthly for approx. 5 years, I began taking LSD for non-clinical (recreational) purposes. After I began to take LSD, my migraine headaches completely ceased; even after I stopped using LSD. This headache-free period lasted approx. 6 years (approx. 2 years after I stopped using LSD altogether). After this period I started getting migraines again, although they now only occur a few times a year.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 79433

Gender: Not Specified

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Jun 18, 2009	Views: 10,793

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LSD (2), Migraines (154) : Health Benefits (32), Not Applicable (38)


		 DOSE:
 T+ 0:00
		 20 mg
		 oral
		 2C-B

		   T+ 2:00
		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   205 lb

A while ago, a few friends of mine and I were heading up to a private party thrown in the mountains. The weather couldn’t have been any better. The skies were crystal-clear. Not a cloud to be seen anywhere. We had just arrived and the sun had started to set over the tall mountain peaks. Immediately, it started to get really cold. There was a room set up in an old shack that was standing up nearby. Power generators were outside, providing the room to be heated with space-heaters. Nearby, there was a cave entrance, where generators were set up and wires were thrown in. I could hear faint music going on, and I knew there was a big party going on inside.

********

First, I found a 20 mg tablet of 2c-B and consumed that around 10, saw some lovely pattern shifting. Nothing too impressive, but around 12 midnight, I took 2 hits of acid on top of that. I walked into the cave and started seeing things on the walls. A kandy kid girl who was bothering me the entire night to see if I had found some E was walking with me and latched on to my arms. She had found some, and I could tell. We walked past the party inside the cave and to a point where we were deep in the cave. I really started to peak at this point, and I was seeing worms on the cave ground everywhere. I knew I was hallucinating, so there were no actual worms. For some reason, when I walked out of the cave, it was 2. I have no idea how I wasted two hours just peaking on acid without even knowing it, but I when I walked outside, everything seemed different. The stars were moving around in the sky, and I could only see a few certain ones.

Outside, people were playing with a flaming tether-ball around a tetherball court they had made. I watched a man get hit by the ball in the face, and what looked like he had been covered in fire. I focused again, and they were all right. Nobody had gotten hit. I walked back on to the chill room where everybody was just sitting down, relaxing, listening to ambient music. Outside of that room, there was a campfire going. I really started to lose it when I forgot who I was, what day it was, and what time. I pretty much thought I didn’t exist, and I was stuck in a world only known to myself. Colors shifted, patterns flying over my head, and everything in between. This happened for what I thought was around 5 or 6 hours. The entire time, I even remember talking to people inside and outside the room, but I was not there. I was looking for my friends to see if I could find anybody I knew, but nobody was around. I couldn’t relate to anything. I didn’t even know where I was.

Around 7 in the morning, I actually ran into a few friends of mine who I knew from a rave I went to before then. As hard as I was tripping, I actually had a normal conversation with them. It seemed really weird, because the more people I knew that came back to talk to me, the more I was coming down off the acid. I finally found my friends who were out in their own little world on too many mushrooms and alcohol… they found me. We started wrapping things up getting ready to go home. The acid finally peaked one more time when my friend stated she needed to use the bathroom. As she was walking away, all of a sudden, everybody around me started peeing. Guy on the roof was peeing outside the chill room, there was a guy next to me peeing, and all around, everybody was peeing. They all come back up at the same time and start to do the pee-pee dance. Weird. Then my friend comes back and she goes “Man, I had to walk a half a mile before I could find a spot to pee. Everybody was doing it too”. Pretty much that just fucked up with my head.

***

The sun came up. Possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life. It looked like it was coming up from every direction on the horizon. North, south, east and west. The mountains reflected the light in the colors they possessed. The lighter it got, the more everything came back to normal. I looked at a bush next to me which was losing its leaves. The autumn season was changing the colors, and I saw the frost melting slowly off of it. Touching something that cold seemed so different to me. I don’t know why.

Finally, we headed out, and went back home. I still couldn’t drive until after I was at my friend’s house, so I passed out on their couch for a few hours. I couldn’t believe that I was so out of it, that when I came to, I was still hallucinating over 15 hours later. I got up after that, and went home. That was probably one of the wildest nights of my life.

Exp Year: 2007	ExpID: 67264

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Dec 15, 2008	Views: 7,307

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2C-B (52), LSD (2) : Nature / Outdoors (23), Combinations (3), Rave / Dance Event (18)


		 DOSE:

		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		 smoked
		 Tobacco - Cigarettes

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   140 lb

I had tried to get acid for some time, with some fake stuff coming through, but other than that, it proved hard to locate. I have been smoking weed fairly often for almost 3 years, and for the past sixth months or so this has been an almost daily practice. I've tried coke, mushrooms, ecstasy, various opiates and painkillers, and a few other insignificant substances. So one summer day, I call one connection I have, looking for some coke, since a friend had expressed interest. He said he did not have any white, but he was quick to mention that he had some acid which he tripped nuts off of the other night. He called it white fluff acid, the best around.

So me and two friends decided to drop that night, and another friend was in town but would just sit out that night. Me and one other friend each purchased two hits, and one other friend could only afford one. We arrived at my house around 10:00 PM, and took no time to wait before slipping our doses under our tongues. We sat around for the next hour or so, watching TV and listening to music. Eventually I noticed a faint floating feeling, and then my heart started to beat somewhat rapidly. We were extremely entertained by taking pictures of ourselves on Apple's Photobooth program, using the mirror effect to create visually creative photos. We all had tremendous energy, and the off white tone of the paint in my room seemed to glow with radiation. It was very cool. One of the walls in my room is all mirror, and my cheeks were rosy, as I could feel my body temperature increasing. All three of us were sweating out a storm. The only poster in my room at the time was a giant cover of Axis: Bold as Love by The Jimi Hendrix Experience. The white walls absorbed the colors from this poster, and soon the walls started to breathe with color.

We proceeded to my backyard, which was unusually bright, since it was already around midnight. I'm not sure how many cigarettes we smoked then, but they were absolutely amazing. It seemed as if waves of energy and stimulation would surge throughout my body, starting from my lungs, with every breath. Looking up at the purplish sky through the trees, the leaves started to turn into hands, petting and stroking the air around. I began to see copies of my face, smiling with ecstatic joy, floating between the branches. I began to dwell into my own thoughts, and my mind seemed as if it was all of the sudden a drug of its own; I could taste my thoughts and words had different flavors. It really made me think of every psychedelic movie I had ever seen. My mind was encouraged to think of the extraordinary, and although things seemed weird and funny, everything was perfectly clear at the same time. I thought about the guy who sold me the acid, and in my mind he seemed like some sort of magic professor who really knew how to experience the most intense, self-indulging mind-fuck. This was beyond any drug, and it was more than just the drug, it was perfect. There was nothing that could bring me down from this. I could not even understand how anyone in the world would even experience a bad trip.

Now we were cruising. We had left my backyard around 12:45 AM and proceeded to explore my empty neighborhood. There was no limit to my energy, and I certainly wasn't losing any from walking. As we walked, we absorbed and tasted all of the light and color glowing off of every tree, and the street lamps seemed like glowing orbs, lining the neighborhood streets. We walked to the lake dock, which was adjacent to a parking lot, and a pool house. So many thoughts flew through my head, and whenever I tried to communicate it, I could only stumble, and remind myself how this feeling was so perfect, that it could not even be communicated into words. I had a total sense of being myself, and all fronts had dissolved just like the acid. I realized that along with this trip, life was also perfect. It amazed me to think about how one's life spans out and works. We go through amazing experiences to find out who we really are, and better understand ourselves. I was truly enlightened, as I was honestly meeting myself that night. 'This is the realest shit I've ever done,' I would repeat, and my friends agreed.

The night was only beginning, but since one of us wasn't tripping, he went back inside to sleep. There was no way any of us could have slept, the amounts of energy the acid had given us were enormous. We continued to walk the quiet, yet beautiful, streets, returning to the lake. My friend called another friend from school, and incredibly he was also tripping acid just like us; purely coincidental. We sat on the asphalt, and it felt as if we were being absorbed into the ground, becoming one with the earth, as the cracks in the ground swelled like sponges. The stars in the sky looked like diamonds, and everything was in patterns. Everything, audibly and visibly, had levels and layers, and with just our presence we could dissect everything and really understand it, for the first time in our lives.

We left and kept walking the lonely streets, talking, but mostly just letting everything absorb into our minds. I realized for the first time that there is much more to everything than what first meets the eye, because with our minds we can explore much more than we might first think. There was one cat that kept appearing and reappearing into our path as we walked. He was extremely friendly and let us take turns feeling his soft coat. At 3:30 AM there was one very old Asian-looking man who was riding his bike. We found it hilarious, that we chose to be tripping acid at 3:30 AM, and someone else chose to ride his bike. Nevertheless, we walked for about 2 miles, before returning once more the pool house parking lot. There was no plan to anything we did that night, as we did not need any plans; the acid knew where to take us. We smoked our last cigarette for the night, before returning home.

I did not sleep at all that night, but the next night I slept for over 12 hours. I took interest in sharing this experience with friends, since I sincerely felt as if this acid trip changed my life in little ways, for the better. I felt like this trip was the ultimate discovery for myself so far; I had spent a lot of time up until then doing soul searching, and trying to figure myself out, but this trip really put the cap on things. While I know I can never completely figure myself out, I know who I am in a sense, and I know that my life is going to be long lived, with many other incredible experiences. There is nothing more harmonious and absolute than coming face to face with yourself.

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 73088

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Aug 21, 2009	Views: 5,126

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LSD (2) : Therapeutic Intent or Outcome (49), Glowing Experiences (4), Small Group (2-9) (17)


		 DOSE:

		   repeated
		 insufflated
		 Ketamine
		 (powder / crystals)

		 1 hit
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   70 kg

Hi, I'm pretty bored at work so I have decided, along the course of today, to relate with you some of the good and bad experiences I have had with drugs over the years.

OK, a bit about me, I started experimenting at about 13, some periods of my life have been much more manic and frenzied than others with regards to my consumption, some have by contrast been much calmer.

By the time I took the acid and Ketamine (K) mentioned in this report I had dabbled with exctacy, ketmaine, mushrooms, speed, cocaine, alcohol, peyote, codeine, MDMA, 5htp, melatonin, Rhodolia, salvia and tamazepam, perhaps a tad too extensively with regards to the last drug.

I am now 22, this experience occurred at the age of around 17 or 18.  I consider that I have a good life, a nice car, a very well respected I.T. job, my own house and I have a clear vision of where I want my life to lead. I would say that I have been affected by the drugs I have taken, but not necessarily in a bad way, they have opened up my eyes to so many new things, different ways of thinking and viewing the world. They have indeed helped me through a lot of rough patches, but have at times in my life contributed to a temporary demise. I believe it also worthy of a mention that I am not a spiritual person, I do not take drugs for spiritual quests, to enlighten myself or gain some knowledge of my inner workings. However, even though that is never my original quest when ingesting a substance it has come to pass once or twice that I have found some answers to questions that I had tucked away in the innards of my brain, this day was to be one of those days.

The setting was a very hot mid summers morning, I had just arrived to an abandoned field next to a motorway that was to host a massive illegal rave. I had passed up taking acid many a time, almost fearing it and telling myself I was not ready. This day was to be different, me and a girl I really didn't know but that I was giving a lift up to this rave found a dealer selling K so I bought a few grams, some to take home and some to consume there, and also bought some acid.

A few moments passed, I racked up a small line of Ketamine back at the car, unfortunately I sneezed on the last half of the line and the next few minutes were a frenzied scrabble of me snorting bits of white powder off this girls lap, her shock turned to amusement as the Ketamine slowly started to take hold. I gave the girl (who we shall call V) a big grin and commented on the fact the color of her shorts didn't aid in me being able to locate the speckles of Ketamine (they were white), we had a giggle and then I placed the acid tab in my mouth.

To explain the sensation of ketamine for me is fairly easy I think. It is for all intents and purposes two different drugs. At a low dosage as I did on this day it is comparable to walking in a bouncy castle, slightly off balance, its difficult to coordinate anything, not that I feel I would want to. It makes me feel relaxed, like nothing matters because its all too far away to affect me, it gives me a slight spinning sensation and all in all gives me a great big smile. It also has the effect of throwing my directed concentration totally out the window, that is to say its very hard to concentrate on something I would want to concentrate on, end very easy to end up staring into space.

With this in mind then, I pretty much fell out of the car, managed to put my keys in my pocket, on the second attempt at regaining my balance we started to journey towards a large field next to the one hosting the rave. By this point the rave was fully underway and I could feel the hard drum and bass pounding my body. I was apprehensive about the acid, worried about what would happen, after hearing of so many stories of bad trips and not really having a firm grasp on my own state of mind. I brushed this off quickly by lying in the sun and looking at cloud formations with another small line of K. Slowly I started to feel something that was totally not Ketamine related, a rush of energy and euphoria, so much subtler to exctacy but also intermingled with a definite sense of apprehension. My intent for this trip had just been to lose myself, I had a few hard weeks at work and all I really wanted was a short break from reality. Boy was I going to get that.

At that moment I started seeing patterns emerging in my rucksack, like squiggly lines coupled with ancient mayan artwork, I could still see the bag and all its features, and I fully realized these lines (which were in motion) were caused by the acid. After that my world was completely blown apart. I shall start with my perception of time, it seemed to be getting faster and faster, then in a split second it would reduce to a crawl, then this cycle would repeat itself. This was emphasized greatly by the sound of the drum and bass in the background that seemed to be slowing and getting faster in response to the perception of speed I had on time at that particular moment, almost warping. At about the same time I had fully grasped this time concept, shit started to get a little weird. I will try and explain this as best as I can, but I don´t think language itself can convey what happened.

One minute I'm having fun with things going slower and faster, the next I am no longer me, its as if I am just a blob of energy sitting under the sun. I had no arms no legs no body as such, I was just there, unable to interact with the outside world, I was just a presence but the rest of the wold could not witness it, I could see everything clearly, the fields of grass started shimmering gold, I was struck in awe, the clouds slowly shifted in color, plants danced in a way no wind could have blown them, I didn't feel connected to anything, I felt as if I was just an energy, bordering on the outskirts of something greater. By this point the girl I was with had become slightly worried as I had been staring at the distance for a good hour, I was sweating buckets (although it was extremely hot) and all I had managed to say was, 'no fucking way, mate, what the fuck,' in a slow and incredulous tone over and over again.

By this time I was being fed water and I was slowly coming back to some form of normal existence. I was still tripping. It was like there was a constant mist in the air and the dust raised by the people dancing to the music was the most amazing thing I had seen. A total feeling of unity and togetherness. Something that really blew me away was seeing a tiny little moped emitting the sound of a monster truck. lol, that will stay with me for ever, and in fact on subsequent trips I have hallucinated that again but inversely, in this case a jaguar emitting the sound of a tiny moped. lol.. This is all that my memory allows me to recall. But I shall say this. Speaking now, I have had many more experiences with acid. The hard part is not trying to force myself to stay sane, the hard part is in trusting myself and believing in myself enough to know that I am clever enough not to hurt myself. I think the problem is that so many people were filling up my mind telling me not to worry and to not take it if I don´t feel right, and if I´ve had a hard time lately don´t take it. At the end of my trip I became paranoid, and that lead me to experience a bad trip. But hey we live and learn people :)

This experience is not meant to serve as a reference for people looking to expand an inner consciousness or look for revelations. I´m simply a hard working guy that likes to feel different from time to time, likes to see things different colors, different shapes and move around likes the intense emotions and thinks drugs are the key to that feeling.

Easy.

Ed

Exp Year: 2004	ExpID: 71147

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: 17

Published: Aug 28, 2009	Views: 6,129

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LSD (2), Ketamine (31) : First Times (2), Combinations (3), Rave / Dance Event (18)


		 DOSE:

		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		 3 joints/cigs
		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

		 2 g
		 insufflated
		 Ketamine
		 (powder / crystals)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   65 kg

I experienced insanity on LSD 3 months ago, and I still have trouble piecing together the events of that night. It was the day I had finished my final school exams, and in celebration myself and 3 other friends decided to have a bit of fun with some mind altering substances. It was roughly 6 months since we had discovered hard drugs (starting with ecstasy and moving on to LSD, and finally ketamine). Apart from these, we had been smoking pot for about a year. It was my second time taking acid.

The day started off with us driving to our dealer to buy 8 blotter tabs of acid. We'd had experience with the same blotters before and knew that they were very potent stuff (in our opinion). On the drive back we each dropped both of our tabs.   [Erowid Note:
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]   20-30 minutes later the tingling sensation began along with that unmistakable sense of excitement.

We arrived at another friends house (he disagreed with hard drugs and was only joining us to smoke pot) and smoked a joint of chronic. This is where it all began... the hallucinations, which were very slight at first, began to become increasingly more intense. Sounds/sights/smells intermingled, and I was overwhelmed by the amount of information rushing in at me at an alarming pace. I sat back on my couch and it seemed as if my conscious and subconscious minds had swapped positions, as my conscious could not deal with the overwhelming amount of hallucinations. My friends tell me I was conscious at all times throughout the night, but it was as if they were talking to a person who was half asleep.

In the utter confusion and fragmentation that was my mind I completely forgot who I was, where I was, what drugs I had taken (what drugs were for that matter), who my family and friends were, and in my mind I ceased to exist. The utter terror of floating in limbo without form or sense is indescribable. It was as if I had gotten off at the wrong stop and was now stuck here for all eternity, and indeed it felt like eternity - even though the experience lasted only 6-8 hours.

Somewhere about 3 hours after the first joint I surfaced, and my friends, scared of the point to which I had lost sanity, offered me several lines of ketamine in an attempt to sober me up. On the contrary, the ketamine seemed to numb my body completely, meaning that I was lost in my mind and in my body and had no anchor to hold me down to reality. I slipped back into the dark hole of my mind.

My mind acted on the utter and complete terror I was feeling and in my insanity I was being ripped apart and crushed, dying, being stabbed and tortured for endless hours.

When I finally surfaced from my mind I refused to believe that what I was seeing was real. I was convinced that all of the things I was seeing were another trick played on me by my mind. I searched for ways to disprove that what I was seeing was real.

The sense of loss of reality lasted for about 2 days, until I forcefully stood in a rainstorm and soaked myself to the bone.

I have taken LSD several times since then and have had some very good times. The warning I am trying to communicate is to be aware of the possible downside to smoking pot on the comeup of an acid trip. My friends have all experienced insanity (although not to the degree that I lost it) when they have smoked on the comeup. Smoking 3-4 hours after taking the acid renews the trip and is an enjoyable experience....

Acid is a valuable learning tool and allows you to look outside the box, however I would advise anyone seeking to try it to be very careful and do as much research as possible.

Exp Year: 2006	ExpID: 58559

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Sep 13, 2009	Views: 6,026

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LSD (2), Cannabis (1), Ketamine (31) : Combinations (3), Difficult Experiences (5), Post Trip Problems (8), Small Group (2-9) (17)


		 DOSE:
 T+ 0:00
		 2 hits
		 oral
		 LSD
		 (blotter / tab)

		   T+ 4:30

		 smoked
		 Cannabis
		 (plant material)

           BODY WEIGHT:
	   135 lb

I had experianced LSD quite a few times before and after this, but I have to say this was my best experiance.

630| Pretty late to drop acid, but I had work all day, so I got together with my friend, and we dropped it in my room. We stuck around for about 20 mins, and then started our adventure.

Little After 7| As we were walking through the woods, we got into a deep conversation. 'God couldn’t always be there, he had to appear sometime, it doesn’t make sence!' 'What about that time before he was there, what was everything, was there anything?' ect ect ect

720ish| We got to the woods behind my school, this is when we started to REALLY feel it. We were walking down a deep hill and I saw some of my friends. Not knowing what to say, I just said 'I’m trippin balls.' As we walked down the trail, there were millions of fern starting to grow. When they start, their just stems curled up at the top. Looking at these, it looked like magic mushrooms were growing everywhere, millions of them. We found a spot to sit down at, I ended up laying down though, watching the leaves change colors. We tried smoking weed, but it didn’t do anything due to the fact that we were tripping so hard. We listened to music, Octavarium on acid is amazing.

8| We started to go back towards the school. Walking down this extremly long straight trail covered with trees was amaaazing. The trail kept bending back and forth, and we had a hard time walking. We went walking around on the field and climbed a baseball cage to stare at sunset watching the most amazing colors I have ever seen. It sucked climbing back down - though the sunset was incredible. The clouds were wiggling back and forth violently and I saw more colors then I could ever imagine.

830| At my school we have a huge obstical corse, which is about 30 feet high. Seeing as its this high, they need metal wires to keep it in place. There are 6 in all. As we were walking past it, it looked like there were millions of wires, trying to avoid it was pretty hard, I smacked into all of them. As we were passing the woods, I kept telling my friend there were some assholes in the woods staring at us. He wanted to let it go but I wanted to see what was up. So I ran at them, staring the entire time. Out of no where, they were trees. yeah.... there were no people, the trees looked like people walking back and forth.

930| At the tennis courts at my school, or our 'Fun Cube,' We took of our shoes and ran around for a wile. Then we realized we could jump up and down and bounce on the tennis nets. That was great, until police rolled up and asked what we were doing. Panicing, I said we were waiting for our parents to pick us up from the game (there was a lacrosse game going on on one of the other fields). Thank god, they left and we went back to the school building.

10| We stared at the stars for half an hour. It was amazing. Millions of stars everywhere, all twinkling, and all different colors. We star gazed and it was one of the best things I have ever seen.

11| It's a good thing we stole chalk from some house on the way, cause we drew the trippiest most amazing pictures all over the school. We could not stop laughing at everything we were comming up with. Then, my friend came and picked us up.

11| At this point we picked up someone else, and went to go smoke somewhere. We parked in an apartment complex and smoked a few bowls wile listening to some fucking weird hypnotist talking about sex and hypnotising people. The weed made the trip better, and we called them up, but they said hypnotising someone on lsd completely defeats the purpose. So after a wile we dropped everyone off and my friend let us off at my house.

1230| We start to draw these insane pictures. Pictures with incredible detail. Which ever way you turn it, up, down, left, right, theres a different picture. Their insane. We drew these untill about 5 in the morning. To this day, we will try to draw them sober, its not possible. We also went online looking at trippy pictures and watching them morph and change colors.

2| Not much signifigance, but one of the funniest things ever. I poked my eyeball, and it made an incredibly loud squishing noise. With my finger still poking my eye, I turn to my friend. When I take it out, it makes this sealing up noise. We laughed for about half an hour.

6| We were trying to go to sleep, but ended up talking about astronomy, god, religion, time travel, the space time continum, all that shit. By 7 30 am we passed out.

In all, since then I have had a much better positive perspective on life. I literally started doing good in school. My friend, who had been unemployed for a very long time, got a job the next day. We don’t take lsd to get FUCKED UP we take it for a more of a spiritual reason, we love the experiance. What it does to our minds, how we can think of such amazing things. How we are so stimulated, how our subconscious is its own person.

Exp Year: 2006	ExpID: 58233

Gender: Male

Age at time of experience: Not Given

Published: Sep 18, 2009	Views: 4,500

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LSD (2) : General (1), Glowing Experiences (4), Small Group (2-9) (17)