Citation: Dax Briggs. "The Power Violence: experience with Mescaline (ID 47449)". Erowid.org. May 5, 2006. erowid.org/exp/47449
I had some prior experience with mescaline in peyote buttons; a friend of mine and myself had taken a camping trip (a retreat from society and our families) and had eaten three medium sized buttons at the time, which resulted in three lost days, and waking up surrounded by dead forest creatures almost four miles from our campsite.
This trip was much more pleasant indeed.
At the time of this trip, I had experienced all other 'major' drugs, including but not limited to: alcohol, thc in marijuana and hashish form, crack cocaine, cocaine, heroin, morphine, opium, lsd, psylocybin, dmt, amt, raw ethyl ether, methylphenidate (a.k.a. ritalin), amphetamine, methamphetamine, dextromethorphan, gamma hydroxybuterate (ghb), mdma (ecstasy), 'foxy methoxy', nitrous oxide, and wormwood exctract (in real absinthe). I considered myself a well-versed drug user, as I had been using since a fairly early age and had a wide range of experience.
I was seventeen, and a senior in high school. It was winter break. To understand where I am coming from, the reader should know that I love music; creating music, listening to music, analyzing music, et cetera. My favourite genre is metal, mostly intense heavy fast (obnoxious to most people) powerviolence/grindcore/death metal. I was in a hardcore metal band at that point in time, as a drummer, and I believe that this experience helped my skills as a drummer, strange as that may seem.
Enough foreplay. I had two 600 mg capsules of mescaline that a friend who is also a biochemist had given to me to celebrate winter break (damn nice gift). Being as I'd been shooting heroin for more than two years off and on, I was cocky about my ability to reckon with hard drugs, but still I was cautious. I took some anti-nausea medicine that my psychologist had prescribed to me months previous, at a dose that I don't remember. The chemical is called 'terazosin' and is available by prescription. It works really damn well.
I ingested the terazosin nigh an hour and a half before ingesting the mescaline. I had eaten a small meal of white rice and vegetables maybe an hour prior to ingesting the terazosin, as I knew taking anything on an empty stomach was just asking for trouble.
Confident with the terazosin's effects, I popped the mescaline caps and downed a glass of skim milk. I knew a few tricks with other drugs to increase intensity, for instance ingesting vitamin C to boost an acid trip, but I knew next to nothing about enhancing one's mescaline experience at that point in time. I did know that it usually fucked with your stomach.
I tend to be impatient with drugs, especially with hallucinogens. I'm always angry 45 minutes after dropping acid when all I see is a trail on my cigarette, but then about 10 minutes afterwards I can barely think about anything else. Approximately 25 minutes had passed since ingesting the mescaline before I felt a small body buzz, which I generally didn't associate with mescaline, because I then considered it to be a 'lab drug,' since it was in pure form. I connected body buzzes with natural drugs like opium or mushrooms.
The body buzz rapidly multiplied in intensity over the next 20 minutes or so. I began to glimpse movement in my peripheral vision, even though I was alone in my room with a book. I decided to turn on some music, and I think perhaps the reason I like such crappy music can be partially attributed to this trip. I flipped on some grindcore, which really is just noise by any musical standard, and just lay on my back on the futon in my room attempting to absorb the music through my pores. For some strange reason, angry and loud fast-paced music tends to put me in a relaxed and euphoric state of mind, instead of giving me an adrenaline rush.
Unexpectedly, I heard a sound that I couldn't discern at first. It sounded like it was coming from across my house, so I stood up and began to walk to my door when I realized that it was my cell phone ringing in my pocket. Relieved, I slumped back down on the futon in a quick movement as I picked up the phone, which resulted in prompt what I call 'mindfuck' effects. I'm not sure what I heard or saw at that point in time, but apparently I was breathing heavily for a few minutes into the receiver while my friend attempted to get my attention.
My friend, whom I will refer to as M to ensure anonymity, talked with me (I think?) for a couple of minutes, but I could barely hear him over the music. I remember mumbling that he should get his ass over to my house, and hanging up and turning off my phone.
It had been about an hour since I had ingested the mescaline, and the body buzz felt as though it was migrating up my spine (I thought of the line from A Clockwork Orange 'slow malenky lizards') crawling up my back into the base of my brain, and as soon as it hit the base of my brain, it SLAMMED into the front of it and then took over. Colours began melding into eachother, as if everything I looked at was some sort of ancient woven tapestry that would unravel if I jerked my eyes quickly enough. I remember being fascinated by the visualization on my computer. The song changed and immediately the sound of the intro connected itself to my visuals, and my entire reality unwove itself. I felt myself sinking into oblivion, but in a pleasant and slow pulsing sort of way. I laid down on my futon and put my feet up. With the rapid double-bass pedaling of the drummer in the band I was listening to, everything I looked at made itself into its original shape, dissipated into the ether of my room, and rematerlized that quickly.
M arrived what turns out to have been only 10 minutes later (he lived incredibly close by). It felt to me as though the phone call had been days ago, but as soon as he told me that we had just spoken, I remembered, and time came back into my understanding. I had a short moment of clarity, in which I marvelled at the fact that my stomach felt great. I told M to turn off the lights in my room and turn on my blacklights. Unfortunately, I didn't have any cool blacklight posters, but I do some fucked up abstract art when I do coke or speed, and a lot of it has highlighter in it because that glows in blacklight. I'd posted them all over my ceiling, and the glowing words and images were all I could see..or hear? Was I hearing the glow?
M turned down the music and attempted to talk to me. My native language is French, and this took place in America, and M only spoke English, so whether I was babbling in French or in some nonsense language (French could be considered one of these), I know not, but I was completely unable to establish communication with him.
M attempted to get me off my futon and go for a walk, but I told him that I was enjoying myself where I was.
Then the moment of clarity disappeared instantaneously, and the cloth that made up my futon felt as though it was unraveling and re-weaving itself around me in a chrysalis type of formation. M was certain I had either done way too much acid or that I was having a mental breakdown, so he grabbed a glass of water for me and a stiff drink for himself and came and sat on my floor with me.
The visuals lasted for another two and a half hours, after which they tapered off without fluctuation (like I get with acid sometimes), for another hour and a quarter. After this, it felt as though the pressure on my brain was creeping down my back again, and being absorbed into the fabric that was my futon.
I baselined approximately five and a quarter hours after I began tripping, which means almost six hours after I ingested the dose.
I carefully explained to M at that point that our mutual friend (the biochemist) had given me some mescaline, but he was unsure what that was, and I was tired and didn't feel like getting into it.
I sat up and got a small burst of energy which I decided to channel into drumming. When I got down the stairs to my drumset, I felt as though I had absorbed the technique of the drummers of the bands we had been listening to over the course of my trip and his drunken stupor.
I pulled a really good five minute continuous drum riff, at which point my father came rushing down the stairs; whoops...I had forgotten they were home and asleep.
All in all, I would say mescaline is my favourite hallucinogen, but it tends to be exceedingly difficult to get one's hands on.
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