DOSE:	repeated	smoked	5-MeO-DMT	(powder / crystals)
		smoked	Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

110 lb

[interlaced italicized text is stuff written during the tryp]

In my bedroom, at night, I decide to begin my exploration of this tryptamine [estimated between 5 and 10 mg]. Previous strongest psychedelic experiences have been with DXM+cannabis, and with mushrooms. I plan to test the water with a very conservative dose. I mix a tiny bit of powder with a pinch of pot.

Do I feel something? Maybe. Mostly placebo and nervousness, I’m sure. But is there just a hint of extra weirdness in the stone? Possibly? Spin and dizziness, walls waving a tad?

I become more relaxed about the experiment. I’m ready to take more. I wait around 15 minutes, determined to keep upping the dose until I feel something that is distinctly tryppy - I'll know what that is when it happens. I feel like one of Shulgin's researchers, except I'm probably more jittery than most of them, although they all had their freakout moments.

That damn powder is so tiny - very hard to handle - micrograins damnit - I THINK I just loaded some more, but not sure. Maybe not enough, maybe too much. Shrug. Guess I'll try again - tolerance should be back to normal now, pretty much. Cannabis may INDEED fog the effects. But fog isn't always bad.

The second hit: I take two long tokes, hold each in for 10-20 seconds. I think: hmmm, where is it – it should be here... I see that the perspective of my lighter flame is skewed - then it comes, gradually, over 20-30 seconds - it begins to take hold - a force, felt, seeping into my ontology, sweeping me up with its current, its kinetic motif - gentle, but firm, strong, accelerating. I lay on the bed and stare at my overhead light which grows brighter, brighter, thicker, enveloped in brilliant luminescence, dancing, it becomes alive - everything I look at is breathing, heaving, sighing, in rhythm - it feels like there is a beat, a pulse to the universe, and I SEE this pulse, this rhythm of animate/inanimate organic/non-organic fusion interlaced matter swaying synesthetically in all media - - -

I lie down and invoke IT whatever it is, entities, ontologies - I call for them, I try to communicate. I say: Show it to me, I accept it, I'm open, I'm ready - and when I close my eyes, the startling vivid visions of moving images with cryptic connotation begin, eerie sights saturated with profundity for a reason I can't name, some epic tragique ectastic music video comic opera from Mars, moving me in ways that are beyond conventional emotion – meta-meaning – shards of stimuli connecting back to ancient memories, charged bits of anthropomorphic reverie - I soon get in touch with what seems to be the logos - the voice in my head which is somehow not me but is a representative of everything, the voice of the grant plan, an extended tentacle wiring me up to the great galactic information steam - an omniscient lingual avatar of the universe, in my head, guest starring in my show ~~ we converse for a few jumbled moments, before time starts to stretch out:

Are you the logos?
Yes, it answers.

Really?
Yes.

[In my semi-programmed self-directed trip, I do a lot of extrapolation in an attempt to coax myself over the edge]

The logos is a destroyer of the doubt and skepticism that pervades my ordinary consciousness, it fills invisible gaps, and clearly I can learn much from this voice, whatever it is, but –

(~

*

serenity
a form of serenity)

I don't quite fall into the trance or the void, not quite – I’m present enough to walk around (well stumble), stagger over to the keyboard to write some words, I don't quite TRYP OUT, but I’m on the verge - a little more powder and I'll get THERE, wherever that is - stuff is very potent.

[of course, well versed in the McKenna version of the nnDMT experience, I attempt to program the trip with the elf-script – with some success]

(definite effect this time - this amazing nonexistent time-gone-taffy-toffy daft loony balmy blimey machine elves chattering around me - I just trypt over the crypt of my remains'll'morall'll'coil'lll'where do these 'ls (elves) come from and chatter in crumbum messingple'all lialonds type glossolalic babble bartle chortle drill express the unexpressible through jabberwocky and tongues, glosaallalia ckatoattahootta got my tongue perfoming sublime hi-wire dxm-level stunts, but this stuff is STRONG holy hell, I can barely type on it, tripping through so many cryptic ontologies crypts graven in wet stone making a joke of the placebo effect.)

While writing, I feel connected to a current of bliss, certainty, realization, remembering, the deja-thread in most liquid concrete manifestation yet –

(oh this feels so benign
fine
just fine
it's inviting
it calls to me
it beckons
i come i abandon willfully for god's ravishing tickle me orgasm that sorta jizm, hehe)

I feel like I can wrap my expanded mind around paradoxes, A and not A, Einstein's twin paradox, strange loops and mobius strips. Just a feeling. I feel my life is such a paradox, or Douglas Adam's universe, the even stranger one that replaced the olde universe, when someone figured out what it was...

Very trippy and psychedelic, mind's eye visuals fantastic, practically spilling over into reality, but not quite - motifs and machinated alien landscapes similar to strong cannabinated visuals but more vivid, more 'there' than ever, containing every hallucination ever half-realized, only 3/4 of the way there, open-eye... I can make it whatever I want to by invoking certain aesthetic sets. This is a trick I learned from Terence. I say to it: “Art Deco”, even though I don't know much about that style - and it immediately becomes like my limited conception of art deco - I give it a leaf motif - geometric - antique - I ask it to surprise me which it does with aplomb, just pure cascading visual novelty pouring through my visual cortex - fascinating - so much information crammed into such little cognitive space/time/folds/crevices/extra dimensions rolled up inside - how can I take it all in? Much too big for my memory to handle, short or long term - visual activity in my mind's eye morphing through neurological kaleidoscopes at a furious pace - all kind of serene in a way though - analgesia, feeling lifted out of my body, flanged out of the physical cage.

(joyous cosmology rings true - too true - pure bliss - too good to be true - but it is. I feel positive. Lumonous. Brilliant rays of sunshine rhapsodizing out of my burning sun essence, cosmic omni fusion, energy, release, let there be light, the void is bright, something and nothing, and the cosmicgiggle crick crack gone ~~~

now look at where I've gone what orbit I spammed/slammed into! I'm off - off the wall - off the rocker - on, on, on the electric eternity current of energy/love that yellow tinge positive radiating outward into technicolor code for 1 pixel in a badly programmed videogame - see how this shifts? From RGB to ecstasy to infinity to the finite tilde of coded english character ~ )

It does something WEIRD to my language, parses it through hyperjabberwocky synesthetic syntext - in a minute I get to the place I most value from my DXM trips, being broiled boiled alive in a sweet synesthetic stew-brew of language being the Creator of this rolling lovely vivacious celestial tunnel through to the ultimate truth - it manipulates my language in a manner similar to the mushroom.

(understand these words I type are alive and come animate before me, making funny faces my elf progeny - this is connected to terence's trip - there are some objective effects and you don't even have to be predisposed, although maybe I was for entering and arriving in the past, strange loopy knot selfhole the logos tells me to type, I ask him are you the logos, and he says yes, straight up, no games. He sounds convincing. He sounds real. He sounds like the LOGOS. What you forgot! What is Eternal! What is you/me - what is our fusion!!! Goddamn, I can bloom into bliss right now if I want to. Nirvana NOW, just forgot, memorytaffylaughygone and REMEMBER the typt kick high gearicalalous - delicious - no problem. Fine and dandy like sour candy. I could be inviNcible god still tripping on time that's not on track)

I record a little bit of my voice 20-30 minutes after, when I feel myself slowly returning to normal. But I'm not sure I really am totally normal yet. I feel very mentally engaged, if not physically restless.

(oh boy, what a tryp. short but sweet - still ripe - still blosssoming out into fractal possibility bright beach no worries free from worries freedom)

Good, interesting experience – very peaceful for a time, intense in other parts. Sure beats the fuck out of dramamine (apples and oranges, tropanes and tryptamines). I believe pot may fog the effects – I might not want to be stoned while tryping on this stuff. I feel the tryptamine wants me to let the last tryp settle in before I venture further. But there is so much promise here - for programming AND for exploring - discovering new states of being. I will try a higher dose tomorrow and probably report the results.

(but remember
giggle
save some hyperbole for when you REALLY need it
like when you take a heroic dose

can't waste all superlatives now)

Exp Year: 2004	ExpID: 29899
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Sep 20, 2005	Views: 6,368
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5-MeO-DMT (58) : First Times (2), Alone (16)