DOSE:

22 mg

oral

2C-E

(powder / crystals)

BODY WEIGHT:

155 lb

To follow up on my previous 2C-E experience, I have since done the phenethylamine once more, with a friend of mine whom we'll refer to as NB for anonymity's purposes.

So, I acquired some 2C-E from a guy JB. Unfortunate for me, as I still owe JP $20 for the 2C-E he gave me that one night, but I got these for $10 a piece. (Needless to say, he's not getting anything for trying to shyst me out.)

For about a month or so after the time I took 2C-E, I spent nearly every moment that I had either looking for it and trying to find someone that would do it with me, or finding some other thing to entertain myself with. I was seeking to recapture the
magic of the night I had first taken the chemical, and this experience to me completely dwarfs the first time.

Consider a two-bedroom apartment, low-rent, and considerably dirty. Our two roomates were asleep that night while we were up grasping insanity at our very fingertips. The time was around 3:00 AM when I finally convinced NB to take it with me, as he was very skeptical of it. He had taken 3 hits of some strong acid one time and he hasn't been really willing to delve into the world of entheogens much more. I reassured him that it would be very intense and he had to be ready, as I figured him taking 3 hits of acid would prepare him for just about anything his mind could conjour up.

4:00 AM. Nothing. I was somewhat disappointed, but nonetheless with the little time I had left before I was projected into a world of complete cognitive disarray, I had to make a music playlist or me and NB would certainly die on this trip. The way I saw it was, music was always a way of calming someone during a trip, or so I thought. I scrambled together some of the psychedelic favorites of mine and his, and we sat and waited yet a little longer.

5:00 AM. Oh yes, it's definitely started to affect NB. Me? I'm only beginning to feel the threshold of what the 2C-E had to offer me. He was still very suspicious that he might once again visit a land he refers to as 'cartoonland', but I told him that we weren't stopping there tonight... or today, whichever way you want to look at it as.

6:00 AM. Yeah, Sanity is definitely starting to relinquish itself from my body as the blank walls assume various patterns. The ceiling, which ordinarily has some form of a white assortment of little dots on it (apartment dwellers would know what I'm trying to communicate), begin to shapeshift into weird formations that remind me of Egyptian hieroglyphics or some weird Mayan/Aztec carvings you'd find in an excursion down in the Yucatan. NB has emptied his stomach contents into a small wastebasket conveniently procured by myself, as I knew either he or I would hurl sooner or later. He ate ramen earlier that day, and he said he saw little apple chunks in his vomit.

And here's where it would all take off for the two of us. I had put on Aphex Twin's 'Windowlicker' (a very good track for the tripping purposes), but NB felt the void creeping up on him. He said from the corner in the ceiling he could hear the voices of
cartoonland calling him back, but I somehow managed to get him out of the what appeared to be early doom for the man. I figured, if this man is going to have a bad trip, then I sure as hell will too. No need in spoiling $20 for a batch of encapsulated fear, I thought.

I had to maintain, as would he. Fischerspooner's 'Just Let Go' relieved the tension he felt as I recommended him to listen carefully to the words they had to say.

'Yeah... Just let it go... Just let it go, man...' I said, keeping a close eye on him.

If I wasn't careful enough, he would fall back into the same void that plagued him and enveloped his body that night he took the acid.

He repeated the sentence I spoke to him, and a look on his face morphed from worried like hell to calm as could possibly be. I felt the majority of the half-sober tasks I would have to do have been completed, and I could sit back and enjoy the (what would seem to be) 3-day trip.

I shuffled through a bunch of Tool and Led Zeppelin (my personal favorites even when sober), namely both versions of No Quarter. This definitely was the benchmark of the trip, as I could feel the words emanating from the laptop's speakers, somehow. We pondered the various states of existence that we felt, what we saw, and what we might think this trip may become. I was ready for it, as the peak hit me right as the sun was rising. I had never been on a full day trip, so I figured I was about ready.

The tracers on this drug were incredible. They almost rival MDMA in this respect. We weren't given the provisions that we might acquire, say on a night that we were tripping as it was about to be daytime, but we had enough to maintain. I would move my hands in a weird, foreign motion around my face and watch the other 5 hands soon follow thereafter. NB would almost observe me the entire trip, and study my habits to see what was possible.

This is when I had the bright idea of moving furniture with my mind. 2C-E has an effect to it to where things sort of breathe and blow themselves temporarily out of proportion, namely stationary objects as well as extremities. The redundancy of this drug raining down weird thoughts through my mind like an artillery cannon is quite profound at this point, as some of you may imagine.

'N! Look at this shit, man.' I breathe in deeply momentarily, exhaling soon thereafter and as I thrust my hands forward, a jolt of energy forces the chair back into the corner a little bit.

In retrospect, I feel like a fool for 'accomplishing' this particular 'feat', but it humored me and him as well as amazed me. During the apex of Tool's version of No Quarter, NB and I discovered transcended human powers did exist, especially on these phenethylamines. We would emulate each other by breathing in deeply, thrusting our hands forward and exchanging bodies of energy (that weren't really there) with one another as Maynard James Keenan's titan roar went on.

I felt it was time to get up. I had been sitting since we digested the 2C-E, and my legs were beginning to tire. I don't really know how that is possible, considering being stationary requires you to do little to remain ... stationary. The sunshine filtered itself through our apartment front window's blinds, casting brilliant rays of light upon our coffee table. I lifted the blinds to see what the outside world might offer us, as I figured even a venture into the outside world might not be totally out of the question.

What appeared in my line of vision was something completely different than I had ever imagined would be possible. The tail lights of cars all assumed the odd embodiment of 'eyes', if that makes any sense. I felt like the entire parking lot, full of automated, sentient car-beings, were staring at me. Better shut these blinds before more carnage unfolds... I do remember the grass and the dew as a higher hue of color than normal, almost fluourescent in some respect. NB questioned what I saw, but it wasn't anything really worth mentioning. Maybe it was, but the notion that I couldn't explain it in words might be a better explanation to go with.

NB's creativity seems to be fueled even moreso than normal on 2C-E, as he has a giant notepad of sorts out and is drawing on it. He's a very skilled artist and can draw basically anything imaginable. What he is drawing is a conglomerate of several other drugs we've done, ranging from mushrooms, to MDMA, to oxycodone, to the newest addition being 2C-E. I couldn't keep my focus on the paper, as I was certain when he held it a specific way, he was about to 'spill' the picture onto the carpet, and he did. I warned him of it, as I saw the pencil drawing itself slide off the paper and merge onto the carpet. I closed my eyes, basked in the fiery radiance of the one-second closed-eye visuals, then returned to trip-vision as I realized it was all a figment of my
imagination. Somehow, he saw it too, though. From then on for about 30 minutes, the picture wouldn't stop boiling...

The weird, chemical feeling of this drug had taken hold of me long before this time, but it was emanating a 'desert' kind of feel to it. Like, if I had been placed out in some kind of desert... Of course, this was only my tripping mind thinking. Thoughts overlapped into several others.

I take a look at the back door, and a wash of rainbow colors aligns the windows, through the blinds. If I look at it carefully enough, it felt like existence was about to blow out the windows and doors. I bring it to NB's attention, but for once he assures me that the door isn't about to explode and existence isn't about to be split wide open. Maybe at this point, our minds were functioning on a more rational level than a couple hours previous. We return to the picture.

Cigarettes. So many cigarettes that night, not a single one could bring about cancer-tinged satisfaction. Smoke followed me like some sort of aura, not hesitating to creep up behind me when I tried to get my mind off of the damned things. It seemed like I was lighting one up every twenty minutes or so. Open discussion lined the moments when we would inhale and exhale on the manufacturer of death's product, about who knows what. I really wish I would have gotten hold of a tape recorder for the trip, as it would be of much aid than my in-and-out recollection.

It's got to at least be about 11:00 AM by this point, and NB and I are convinced we are one with the Goron people from the Legend of Zelda from Ocarina of Time. If you've ever played, when you walk up to one they are somewhat sleeping and give off a sound of 'Orr?' and then as you walk away they return back onto the ground and it sounds a bit more like 'Orrrrr...', the latter sounding a bit more discouraged in matters of tone of voice. NB's girlfriend was bewildered as to why we decided we were Gorons. I haven't figured it out to this day, honestly. It was all that mattered, because it was a part of the trip, I suppose. By this time I had encountered three versions of the NB I knew; one was the 20-year old whom I was shacking up with, the other was about 28 years old, and the most familiar one that brought itself into fruition was the 35-year old version of NB.

Time just kept winding onwards, as we desperately struggled to maintain ourselves as we grew weary of the drug as the day drew on. Our bodies ached, and our minds were tired of seeing the Aztec-Mayan-Egyptian hieroglyphics on the wall, as well as the thought that this might NEVER be over with... Hanging on, smoking cigarettes, and odd conversation kept us going.

3:00 PM came about, and our two other roomates who remained dormant for this particular trip, were off to work. I knew the drug was still in effect because of the way SS looked at me... You see, NB and I had been trying to secure a job for at least a month by this point with no luck. The particular one that gave me the look, SS, had a scrutinized look on his face, like he almost thought we were worthless because we were staying up all night on these weird drugs that he had never really heard much about... He gave a scornful look towards us and he said, 'Oh. Well. I'm going to work.' And promptly headed out the door.

After they left (SS and MT), NB and I discussed the possibilities of the statement SS left us with. I almost whipped myself into a frantic spree to regain complete sobriety as I felt it was demeaning towards us because we stayed up all night tripping and demeaning towards him as well because I didn't want to make it seem like to one of my best friends that I was worthless and good for nothing. After all, he had been there for me in hard times and now wasn't the time to be a pissant. NB reassured me that I was just tripping and it was nonsense and I shook it off after a sober reassurance of what he really intended later on that day.

4:00 PM rolls around, and the Egyptian thing is wearing off on the ceiling, thank whatever there is out there. For a second, I felt I was going insane. I lay down on the couch, weary from all the strange mental activity that had been going on for the past 13 or so hours. NB was already asleep, as I felt this journey come to a close. I had one cigarette left, as I felt it was perfect and couldn't suit this any more better. I smoked it to its entirety, and then headed off into my room and passed out.

In retrospect, I remember much more detail of this trip than my first and was definitely funner with virtually no bad effects as opposed to my first.

--splifferHSC

Exp Year: 2008	ExpID: 73719
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Oct 29, 2008	Views: 6,605
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2C-E (137) : Glowing Experiences (4), Small Group (2-9) (17)