H.B. Woodrose Seeds
Citation: Kai. "Hollywood on Woodrose: An Experience with H.B. Woodrose Seeds (exp4625)". Erowid.org. Dec 29, 2001. erowid.org/exp/4625
I was layed over at one of the many youth hostels in LA for two days right after Christmas. The only other american there was a pothead, as well as a dealer, so we became fast friends. After we spent the afternoon smoking pot, we got on the subject of hallucinogens. I talked about wanting to trip, but having no money and being in a strange city, I had no where to go. He told me he had a bag of Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds in his room, and would be happy to share them with me for smoking him up. I asked him the details about the seeds, having only heard of them in passing. He told me every detail I could squeeze out of him; what would happen, had he ever done them, things like that. He finally gained my trust and ran back to his room to grab the seeds. We spent the next hour trying to scrape the 'skin' off of them. He said he had taken them with the skin on, and had no side effects, but a friend took them skin on, and threw up a bunch of times and had a bad trip that lasted eight hours. We tried to get the skins off to no avail. So I decided to just maw on them plain, all 14 of them. I hadn't eaten all day, so the taste alone made me pretty sick.
About half an hour after eating them, I felt all kinds of shitty, and decided it was time to throw up. I went to my room to puke, and did, but there were no remenants of the seeds. Just water and stomach acid mostly. I went back to the common area where my new friend was waiting, and let him know I didn't feel much better, and if I went to the hospital, if he could take my (cashless) wallet so they wouldn't fish out my ID and make me pay any bills (damn non-socialized medicine!). I decided to lie down, and began to feel like I was really going to die. I kept feeling worse and worse, but didn't express my alarm to anyone on the offchance that if I hold out, I might just feel better.
An eternity of 30 minutes passed, and all of a sudden I realized I wasn't dying, just tripping balls. The discomfort I felt was just my stomach, but when I stopped paying attention to it, I felt REALLY REALLY good. It was like really clean acid, save for the feeling of gut rot, but I felt so good I decided to explore Hollywood for the first time. I walked up to Mann's Chineese theatre and placed my hand in Harrison Ford's print. I explored the walk of fame, seeing if I could figure out which blank star my name would someday be written upon (I run a cult of personality in my spare time). I got hassled by the Scientology Building security guard, who seemed a little put-off by my trippy non-logic when trying to explain why I was franticly scribbling notes in my notebook in front of his scary cult building. It was a good night, I saw plenty of neat sites, and had I eaten, I prolly wouldn't have had all the stomach problems. If it hadn't been for the tummy ache and the near overdose, I'd give it a 10. But I'm giving this trip a 7, because I hate LA.
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