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Sheet, were to begin?

At 5:30pm typing is quite a challenging activity. There are still a few visuals The background light level will not stay consistent. I don't look like a human being. A stunned mask instead of a face. Might as well put in mirrors for the eyeballs and bounce your gaze off of them. Ping - pong. See yourself. Not. Better luck tomorrow I hope. I can't sleep yet so I'm here trying to make sense of it. Serious harm could have been done and thankfully that was avoided.

Trip report? There's not much to say about any trip really: You will be screwed, you are screwed, and then it's all over and you were screwed but nothing's left.

Beforehand it was unexpected. During it was indescribable and debilitating. The whole is far more than the sum of it's parts - the two drugs acted together to produce something monstrous.

Fun. Visual. Outrageous. Out of control. Scary to passers-by. Not recommended in public.

Messy. I was not expecting the inability to see people that I was talking too due to visual activity. Inability to hold conversations longer than one word. Disassociation of self from surrounds, merging with space and time, swimming in a primordial soup of subatomic particles, parallel universe, infestations of alien thought-viruses, flashback to junior school, and. wondering why you're doing any of it. And I don't just mean the drugs.

Sometimes you take a very long route around to take a simple look at yourself in the mirror. Ping-pong. Metal bounce ricochet noise in an empty chamber - the clanging of the dancefloor. Being high as a kite doesn't change the fundamentals. The me-box is broken and the parts don't fit together any more. Did I mention, messy?

After It was: No brain, no life. I still can't sleep. I still have some sense of humor though. I was expecting bit of a candyflip, but what I got was out of proportion.

These are the fragments of trip that I have clung to. I had preloaded with tryptophan and other amino acids. A full dose of both MDMA and DOB went down just after midnight. The MDMA started to come up soon after. Shortly after coming up I was surprised by two brief bouts of nausea. My stomach was empty but some bile came up. I was not expecting this, but got past it soon.

I was expecting 2 hours of it before I started to feel the DOB. Perhaps MDMA was doing it's usual time distortion, but it seemed all too soon that things started to go wiggy. It stared with a texturing of objects, weaving them into background.

We were dancing, and I realized that I needed to pee, but I didn't know how to find the edge of the dancefloor. The only person that I could recognize was K, as he was very brightly dressed. I asked him to show me the way, and held his hand so I wouldn't loose track of him. Things got confusing after that.

The music got suddenly loud and everyone cheered. The music turned crystal-sharp and emitted a 3d grid of lines over the dancefloor. Diamond shards shivered upwards through it. My mouth was open in amazement. It took to much effort to concentrate on what was going on so I had to give up. Dancing was impossible. I sat down.

K asked me several times if I was OK. I said yes every time. I didn't think about it much.

.. I was having a conversation with J standing in front of me. I could not see her. Too much going on. All wrapped into each other. Couldn't tell where anything ended an anything else began. Imagining opening the door and having to deal with millions of subatomic particles instead of objects. She took a step away from me and I froze. Lost now. She looked back and said "come along them". My hand reached out and I located her by source of sound. "I can't see you" I explained. In retrospect I found a false-colour outline image of her face somewhere in the visual field.

I remember walking back to the dancefloor, and realizing that perhaps I had better find a chill spot to sit down instead. My vision was as if I was looking down the wrong end of a telescope. Everything was very far away. Suddenly I lost the center of my field of vision - it turned into a kaleidoscope of the peripheral areas. It took a while to work out where I was going. After a while I managed to find a place to sit down.

None of this seemed out of place or wrong. I was never worried. Even when I agreed that my state was a lot like that of a mashed banana.

J asked me to give KR's jacket back to her. It took her a long time to explain to me what to do. Delivering the jacket back to KR & K across a space of perhaps 20 meters became an epic voyage. Several times during the course I got lost and forgot what I was doing, only to decide to walk forwards again. Eventually I located K and gave it to him.

V came past some time later. I must have been coming down then. I heard him mostly talking excitedly in a rapid acid babble. His face was a manic grin, pixilated and smeared, oozing across my filed of vision. I kept losing him and finding his face again. He was very happy and it was infectious. "Point me in the direction of the DJ box" I cried.

Somehow I was in the Ravesafe tent. Barely conscious.

This is the part that I refuse to take seriously. Because If I start believing in meanings and signs lord alone knows were I'll end. And I certainly wouldn't want to be accused of belief.

If your PC is booted up in the middle of the night, and an alternate OS booted, would you be able to tell in the morning that any processing has occurred at all? How do you tell the difference between an absence of any processing at all and an absence of any recognizable processing? What alien thoughts could I feel swarming in my circuits? The roar of an overmind up through the saturated particles of space-time whispered through the permeable reality.

The interfaces were disintegrating and reforming in novel configurations but the cores were intact.

There was a presence. Something out there, Cool and alien, not matter or energy. An attempt at communication, contact, was happening.

If a thought form were to press it's way of being round your mind, a viral code from enfolding (and enfolded) dimensions, it would be like this. There was a touch around my arm as my hand gently closed on a bubbling boiling mass of raw energy and thought-stuff. Not matter, not energy, concept-before-it-is-concept made flesh. Creation and imagination made hot plasma. This was not the first and would not be the last contact with an idea/Presence/Ideal/Life-force/?. Time and space are concepts meaningful only on this end.

This sounds so cheesy put like this but the feeling was real.

From, my point of view, I hope that that state will come again. For my sake, I hope that it will be easier to reach. Sometimes you take a very long way around to take a simple look at yourself.

? sheet. What really happened is that I stared at the walls for a while. That's the take-home meaning. Right? That's about it, right ?

..sheet sheet. I'd like to thinks that there's more to where we're headed than a bunch of junkies in the woods. Prove me wrong. Talk about something else for a change.

I was sitting near I & C.

S came up to me and remarked "I heard that you had a bit of a rough time." I smiled and waved.

I wandered through a group of people gibbering nonsense verse about trousers and eyebrows.

I was sitting near M & J, and it was getting lighter. Melanie talked to me.

Dark resolved into gloom. Colour into shape, shape into people, people into recognizable faces. Trying to work out if what I was seeing is real-time or memory or dream. After a while with no reference points out there it takes a while to adjust to having working video in again.

Dawn broke and I found myself sitting near a dancefloor. An ugly scarred coloured man was walking up and down by the side of the dancefloor, screaming at the people, dirt and noise. Perhaps he was upset at them for violating the Easter Sabbath. Perhaps he was a park ranger or cop. Perhaps he was a mean drunk. Perhaps he just didn't like the look of them or the choice of music. Nobody took any notice anyway.

I found myself moving around, faces appearing before me. People in bright clothes and surreal scenes. A group in Hawaiian shirts. A group of industrials, all black plastic and piercings. Faces from some monochrome Hell.

They gave me odd looks. Tiny, distorted faces far away moving around. Puzzled expressions as they struggled to make contact with my face. Some goofed, some animated, some just dirty. I must have staggered into some of them.

The DJ was at least 8 foot tall, with long stringy arms at least 4 foot long.

I saw movement. It was people. They were people that I knew.

I recognized a person. R. He looked at me and spoke my name. It slowly occurred to me that this might actually be happening, happening to me and happening in real time. His body was elongated and olive-green, as seen through a fisheye lens. He said hi. I replied, which seemed odd, but nothing at all really surprised me that night. Stringing words together was slow and difficult.

I realized that I had to get out of there. I walked away from the dancefloor, brushing away nonexistent barriers, and found myself on a road. Tents lay somewhere to the left. I walked. I was worried that it was all ending. Everything was decelerating, black shuddering gaps between the instants, stuttering outlines around objects as I walked downhill. The tent was warm, quiet and sane. Jacqui told me that it was no big deal to have acted like a drug-crazed lunatic and that I shouldn't try to press charges against myself.

In the morning I was glad to be able to finish sentences and interact in real time, albeit slowly. The grass was still shifting in shade and colour.

Later I took another look at the dancefloor. Some of the wind-up toys were still unwinding. It wasn't pretty.

I drove a bit, but had to give it over to I. We stopped on the way back and looked at people feed the baboons. Or rather, baboons robbing the dustbins and cars of people. Baboons are everything that human beings were evolved to be: strong, agile, arrogant, amoral, ugly, shameless, arrogant, cunning, cruel and completely unselfconscious. The ape of intentionally, devoid of our penchant for trying to make sense of it or looking beyond the next mouthful.

DOB still has it's cynical edge you may have noticed. At a higher dose the visuals linger on even longer - the last list effects faded out after 16 hours. Good tail off on the MDMA thought, no nasty crash yet.

Plastic penguins. Rubber boots. Do the surfaces keep things out or things in? Sometimes both sides are like metal chambers filled with motion and noise. Ping-pong. Echoes. Emptiness. I'm going to look forward to programming again though. Plastic cogs.

Sleep was difficult. There are black faces down there. Spider-faces, black eyes on white skin under black warpaint. I have attracted their hungry attention. They are waiting and looking, their gaze upon me. Well, fuck 'em I wont let them have anything of mine. Blackened and shriveled, my heart still belongs to me and no one else. The middleman, the ugly, shifty, characters hanging around the edges of town are more worrying. What are they doing there, what do they hope to buy and what, pray tell, do they hope to sell in return? Hollow men, headpieces filled with straw.

I am glad of simple things like trees and conversation.

The features of the trip seem to be:
1 ) Watch out for the very colorful visuals. Not recommended if you intend doing visually difficult tasks such as walking or telling people from inanimate objects.
2) Distancing and disassociation. This is very nearly an out-of-body experience, visually everything was far away, even though sonically it was close. This I did not expect from the MDMA or DOB.
3) Conversation and logical thought. On some other day of the week.

As a dance drug combination I don't rate it at all. It's better suited for space travel.

Would I do that again? Next time I have a week to kill and need a full frontal lobotomy, I'll bear it in mind. If you want to try this combination, just be aware of what you are in for and do it in a safe environment. Please only under adult supervision.

I can make it all make sense, but do I want to? A universe where everything makes sense is for crazy people, True Believers and fanatics. Purpose is for machines.

It's saner to accept that you don't understand what's going on, you don't see a purpose to any of it and chances are good that there is no reason for anything. So how do I put a meaning to any of this? What separates meaning from nonsense?

By Tuesday I am feeling quite Ok, and I think no long-term harm is done. The hallucinogens have dipped their heads in the me-box enough for a long time.

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