Citation: nervewing. "Slapped in the Face: An Experience with 5-MeO-MALT (exp114431)". Erowid.org. May 23, 2020. erowid.org/exp/114431
T0:00- The chemical is a freebase in the form of a brown wax. When it was shipped the vendor warned that in warmer months it would sometimes arrive to the customer in entirely liquid form. I break off and weigh out 12 mg of the mass and drop it into a freebase pipe (a glass tube stuffed with copper scrubber, or a ďcrack pipeĒ if you will). I use gentle heat to melt it into the scrubber a bit, it melts quickly without much resistance. I have stuffed most of the length of the tube with scrubber to ensure it remains trapped within.
I apply gentle heat to the end, not touching the pipe directly with the flame. I am immediately greeted by a mouthful of acrid tryptamine smoke, reminiscent of naphthalene (moth balls) but sweeter. I reflexively cough the first hit out. The next two I am able to hold in for about 10 seconds.
T0:02- After these three hits I immediately feel lightheaded- dissociation throbs through my skull, and it feels like my visual field is being shattered by a novel sense of clarity
my visual field is being shattered by a novel sense of clarity
. This is immediately fairly intense. Visuals present now as rippling like heat waves, radiating off of concentric pulses from the edges of my visual field, each pulse making the world appear more clear as it drags across my pupils, a foreign impossible clarity.
My body is wracked with a twisting stimulation and sense of discomfort. My eyes begin to water as my heart races and I feel short of breath. There are tendrils of energy that are trying to shoot out of me but they have become twisted and tangled and distorted in my limbs, and they buzz angrily within my muscles as they become more and more stopped up. I wish I could just release them but I donít know how.
Waves of nausea begin to pass through me now as I hit the pipe more and more. The sense of dissociation and tight stimulation builds and builds. Now when I close my eyes I am greeted by an electric blue spot, levitating above an indistinct ďfloorĒ of swirling forms that appear to be shrouded in fog, extending infinitely into blackness in all directions. They are dull and colorless. Upon opening my eyes the spot remains, like an afterimage after staring at a bright light. I take one hit of cannabis from a bowl now to try and dull the nausea a bit.
T0:08- I have taken about 10 hits of the 5-MeO-MALT now. They are increasingly sparse, so I sense that I am getting to the end of it. I have more prepared and I am debating whether to pack it into the pipe. My heart is pounding, it feels like itís at the threshold of my tolerance. I feel concerned about pushing it further.
My heart is pounding, it feels like itís at the threshold of my tolerance. I feel concerned about pushing it further.
The nausea builds and builds too as time passes, and there are several points where I feel like I might throw up, but it doesnít come. The intensity is bearing down on me like a freight train built from glowing streamers of razor clear wind. Closed eyed visuals are like strings and tendrils of neon lights, intertwining and racing through the void, tangling up on each other. Their presence and energy makes my head throb. I chew gum to allay my increasingly clenching jaw. I decide against packing more, though I manage to nurse a few more hits from the pipe.
T0:12- The intensity feels like itís beginning to level off. I wouldnít call this experience pleasant necessarily- I am hyper alert, I even feel a tad paranoid and on edge. My heart still races and my eyes stare ahead, bugged out with a piercing gaze. It is certainly interesting however, and I can appreciate that. There are flashes of small spots of various colors at the corners of my vision, bold and striking. Lying down feels immensely comfortable, with waves of dissociative pleasure rippling outwards from where there is the greatest pressure against my bed. It feels like a psychic energy massaging out the pent up tension that the comeup of the trip had instilled in me. I smoke a few more hits of cannabis, there doesnít seem to be much effect from this other than softening the nausea a bit.
T0:20- I definitively kill off the last of whatís in the pipe, managing to eke out one more wispy hit before it begins to produce nothing. A renewed upwelling of nausea rises through me. Upon taking this last hit I could feel my facial muscles involuntarily twitch.
The open-eyed visuals are slight and fleeting. The closed eyed visuals are dim, indistinct, gloomy, and moody. Still the same swirling forms, illuminated by a dim light, like trying to find my way in the fog with just the light of my phone screen. I feel on edge, cynical but in a sly and sardonic way. I feel like this drug has slapped me in the face. I want to throw up. I feel poisoned but happy about it.
I feel like this drug has slapped me in the face. I want to throw up. I feel poisoned but happy about it.
I canít help but crack a toothy grin at the absurdity of feeling such an odd and novel vicious intensity from smoking such a small amount of substance, an experience that canít even be gauged by the visuals.
T0:30- A little machine is spinning away in my head. The open-eyed visuals have for the most part dissipated. The closed eyed visuals are still present but are becoming increasingly subtle. Itís a sunny day and my room is bathed in light. I still feel overstimulated and mostly just want to lie down and close my eyes. This is a quick and gentle respite amidst the turmoil, and every time I open my eyes again it feels like Iíve just woken up from a brief and unexpected nap. My whole body is throbbing, but lying down feels so good, ripples and waves of neon comfort.
T0:50- I feel a sense of sexual arousal, but cognitively, not physically. Like I am fixated on the idea of sexuality as something to think about. This is odd for me, as normally all things in the realm of sexuality are repulsive and foreign, or at best purely neutral to me when Iím on psychedelics. Yet is doesnít exist at all in my body or hormones, so the feeling ultimately passes without result, still fairly neutral. It was just another thing to think about, though it was unique in that sex is not something I ever really think about while tripping.
The physical discomfort has mostly subsided by now, as has the crackling, arcing intensity of the trip. I have a sense of being in the right place at the right time. The sun is shining, itís warm outside, I am happy to be here. There is a euphoria in this tranquility, not the radiating sunbathed optimism that I experienced on the 4-HO analogue of this chemical, but a more peaceful and matter-of-fact sense of wellbeing. I feel like an overclocked computer cooling down as the fans kick in. I am clearly on the comedown. There are no more visuals to speak of.
T1:00- I feel some muscle aches and my head is swimming. Most of the last hour was spent listening to music, lying still on my bed. Engaging with the internet or any sort of visual content felt overwhelming on my raw neurons, like pouring lemon juice on a wound. I am now calmer however, my heart is slowing down, my eyes feel less strung out. I read about things aimlessly on the internet. Focus and attention donít seem to be affected much- they seem slightly improved in fact, typical of a psychedelic comedown. I smoke some more cannabis. This notably doesnít seem to have the usual effect of stirring the dust of the experience or instilling a sense of renewed vigor. It really doesnít feel like anything at all.
T2:00- I step outside, Itís 85 degrees F out today. The sun is beautiful and my backyard is buzzing with insects. I stand back there for a few minutes, basking in the sunlight. I feel restless just standing there however and go back inside to engage with other tasks. At this point I am mostly down and it just feels like I have a stimulant coursing through me. I am definitely more alert than I normally am.
T3:00- I work on another entry for a series of articles I am writing. This involves a lot of meticulous poring over scientific papers, interpreting the information and data, and (attempting) to translate it into quick digestible writing, with some speculation and conjecture. I find myself intensely focused on this task, able to keep at it for almost an hour without getting distracted once or taking any sort of break. Iím delightfully engrossed in my work, reminiscent of a good functional stimulant.
T5:00- By now I am almost entirely down and begin to feel exhausted. The rest of the night carries on with nothing to note.
Conclusion: 5-MeO-Tryptamines are truly unique. Devoid of visuals but undeniably intense in every other way. Distinctly psychedelic in their cognitive effects, but in a manner that is truly unlike any other class of psychedelic. 5-MeO-MALT was no exception. The experience of the vaporized route of administration was short and fast as vaporized tryptamines usually are. The trip was wracked with stimulation throughout, tense and impactful.
The trip was wracked with stimulation throughout, tense and impactful.
The initial stages were like being blasted headlong through a rippling membrane into a clearer reality, fast enough to drive tears from my eyes. It was like having my brain wrung out; like being slapped with psychedelia. Physical side effects were concerning enough for me not to push the dose higher, but I was certainly interested to see how much further it could go. Slight visuals presented as indistinct flashes of color, devoid of pattern or reason. The blistering intensity of it eventually gave way to a satisfying comfort, then to a gentle focused stimulation. Overall, I wouldnít call it an enjoyable experience, but a novelty worth experiencing for an explorer who seeks that. I have no particular desire to repeat this anytime soon, but I would be interested in seeing how other routes of administration manifest, and in trying some of the other 5-MeO Tryptamines out there to see how they all compare.
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