Citation: Mahavishnu. "Between Nothingness and Infinity: An Experience with 2C-B, 2C-C, 2C-E & 2C-I (exp85144)". Erowid.org. Jul 22, 2010. erowid.org/exp/85144
The following is a general description that addresses a variety of experiences with 2C-I, -B, -C, and -E. The identity, purity (>99%), and quantities consumed were positively verified extremely reliably (GC/MS, H-NMR). The 2C-B ingested was not tested nor were dosages verified and you are encouraged to treat any information herein regarding the bromo with caution and/or skepticism. The substances were ingested only orally, with powders either dissolved in a beverage or swallowed in a gel cap, typically on a well digested or empty stomach.
Having experimented with these chemicals relatively extensively, I summarize here my experiences and present some of the conclusions---impressions, perhaps---that have emerged during my protracted period of reflection.
For general comparison purposes, typical trip durations were as follows:
2C-I: 7-9 hours up; 40-60 minute come-up
2C-E: 8-10 hours up; 110-160 minute come-up, 130 minutes average
2C-C: 4-6 hours up; 30-60 minute come-up
2C-B: 5-7 hours up; 30-60 minute come-up
Let us begin with my first mistake. It had been quite some time since my brain felt the gentle jostle of a psychedelic. My relationship with phenethylamines developed out of a [naive] desire to explore potential substitutes for the good doctor L. Although it would appear that the days have past, there once was a time not too long ago when it was, for all practical purposes, impossible to get an appointment with the doctor. Even when rumors of lysergide's arrival back in town materialized into small liquid containing droppers, they proved to be precisely that---rumors---to assist with concealing the imposture's identity: 5-MeO-AMT. Fortunately I have never had the displeasure of consuming this reportedly crappy chemical, but stories of arduous vomiting sessions keep me from feeling left out... The 2C's were another story however, few reports of stomach discomfort---in accord with a personal evasion of vomiting---and I was starting to feel a little left out. And that's when it began.
2C-I Pihkal dose range: 14 Ė 22 mg
I started off at a relatively modest dose, 14mg. It helps to test the water slowly, at least after not swimming for half a decade. Surprisingly active. The come-up was a tad jittery, but by the hour mark it had undeniably progressed beyond the uncertainty stage. Although the vast majority of the experiences that would follow were characterized by an uncanny lucidity of mind, the first trip back truly had me squirming a bit. Many crazier trips would follow, but only the final trip in my series of explorations would prove to surpass the general level of confusion that I experienced on that first night.
It was mighty pleasant to be back, but---oh my---how entirely different it was from what I remembered of the days of taking acid and mushrooms. Upon reflection, I do not doubt that the overall sense of confusion was mostly the result of breaking the pyschonautical hiatus, but by no means was the experience a trivial one. Though later indulgences with 2C-I were also characterized by a light haze of confusion, the lucid nature of this structural family (at appropriate doses) most certainly prevails, somehow allowing if not taunting the simultaneous presence of confusion and clarity, both unaffected by each other, equally deranged!
The first thing I noticed was how different my body temperature felt in comparison to previous experiences with tryptamines. On 2C-I I literally felt both hot and cold, simultaneously. Quite dissimilar from the tryptamine chills to which I was accustomed. And while there were definite elements of euphoria, the primary feature of the trip (barring side-effects) was undoubtedly the visual component. Even at 14mg the visuals were remarkably prominent. Though not nearly as strong as some of the hallucinations I would later encounter, the patterning, morphing of colors, and acuity enhancement were inescapable but entirely nonintrusive. The accompanying tactile element was pleasant, though at higher doses I found that the temperature discomfort was at odds with any euphoric push inherent to the molecule.
Delving deeper into the dosages I tried 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, and finally 20mg. Throughout the ramping of dosages (all sufficiently spaced out temporally to avoid tolerance effects) the bodily discomfort became more noticeable. In all fairness, so did the effects; but in comparison to what I found upon branching out further, the 2C-I was relatively unremarkable to my tastebuds in the grand scheme of things. That's certainly not to say that it isn't very much active; 20mg was a plenty good spin and the dose was repeated a handful of times (as were 15, 17 and 18mg), but the curiosity and eventual fondness of the other siblings... the cat died!
Other people seem to enjoy the ``candy-flip'' type aspect of the trip, but I was not seeking to explore tactile phenomena with psychoactive substances. Nothing wrong with a sprinkle of MDA on the roof of your mouth every so often, but the physical sensations associated with some compounds tend to distract me from my other senses.
Unfortunately, in my body, 2C-I's confusion did not increase as rapidly as [my perception of] the body load. Of course the opposite trend [perceived] in acid is one of the things that makes it so special to me. The balance between mania and clarity, the outlandish state between partial and almost total psychosis that is somehow constructive and illuminating. (And total sensory; freakin' synaesthetic!!) But I digress... On one occasion a minor purge did occur after eating 20mg of 2C-I. The small amount of liquid expelled from my body was in accord with the 200ml or so of insufficiently diluted beverage-from-concentrate that had shuttled the gel cap within.
Addressing some generalities:
Since it all started with the `I', and now since also I have played down to you my intrigue of the molecule, it seems only appropriate to address one important but difficult subject before proceeding on to discuss the other 2C's. The visual manifestations of the 2C's that were explored are worthy of mention, but doing so risks the futile mistake of harping on what is inherently one of the most purely subjective features of psychonautical travel. And tripping certainly can be quite the journey, it is dynamic and mercurial, often elusive, and nearly always ephemeral.
All of the experiences with the selected 2C's (2C-I, B, C, E) possessed one common character: the nature of the visual hallucinations. While the types of visuals experienced varied widely, the form of the visuals was transposable between the different chemicals. It was as though my visual cortex was rendering the stimulus it received and created to consciously appear digitized. Numerous other reports appearing online make mention of, or discuss, this seemingly ``digital'' property.
Whereas mescaline, mushrooms, and even acid (which has always felt very synthetic) seem to produce analog visual effects---for lack of better terminology---there was something distinctly different about the colors, hallucinations and pixilations in the 2C experiences that strongly evoked the impression I was tripping digitally. And that is not to say pixilations or similar varieties of visuals were not present in experiences with the more traditional psychedelics, fractals are hard to escape! Somehow the pixilations that had been experienced on other drugs were distinctly different from the manner that the 2Cs manifested this trait. With acid etc. I have always felt like the visuals looked inexplicably real---analog, if you will---even the most absurd otherworldly shit. Somehow, these crazy new school psychedelics looked fake to me, as though the visuals were digitally projected onto the surface of my cornea and eyelids. (A quick reference to the movie Waking Life does not seem entirely inappropriate). As I began to explore beyond the `I', I found this novel visual component to be very much preserved throughout the subgroup.
No mention has yet been explicitly made to the shape of the trip curve (strength vs. time) or nature of the comedown with the 2C's. In the [spirited but meager] attempt to at least touch on the many things that help provide cohesion to a trip report I will briefly summarize my personal experiences though they do not offer any real supplement to the common knowledge. Concerning the come-up: be patient, and hold on to your pants people. Beyond the come-up the trip curves were sinusoidal, eventually beginning to decay after reaching maximum amplitude in a number of cycles, and continuing to oscillate during the comedown. Though some all-around squirminess sometimes accompanied the descent to reality with jaw tension or headaches, in more cases than not the discomfort was notably minimal. There were a number of instances in which the visuals seemed to abruptly switch off after the gradual decline, something that has been experienced in the later stages of acid trips.
Before we move on, let us recap the 2C-I endeavors in the semi-quantitative fashion that is customary in this community:
14mg (w/o having tripped for a number of years): ++.5 (a plus two point five denoting a state in which there are fluctuations between being at ++ and +++.)
14 - 16mg: ++
17 - 20mg: ++.5
Perhaps this is an appropriate time to note that the only ++++ I have ever experienced was not under the influence of a drug. (Meditation). Does that mean it was not a +4?! One thing seemed sure about the practice: allowing it sustain into my everyday life, accessing that peak state on a regular basis, being so indescribably sensitive---was out of the question. Moreover, it seemed certainly to be equally representative of either an ultimate devolution or evolution, blatantly dualistic. But enough with that.
(2C-E:) Pihkal dose range: 10 - 25mg
All things considered, I found the Certifiably Ethereal experience of 2C-E to be the most intriguing of the 2C's presented. The ramping began at 10mg. Effects became noticeable about an hour and a half following ingestion but the trip did not really begin until about two and one quarter hours after the hatch drop. This is characteristic of 2C-E. (Be patient people. Seriously. Don't re-dose at the 2 hour mark thinking you aren't going to trip. Ride that shit out.) Even at 10 mg this can be a very special molecule. The body load was somewhere between light and nonexistent, and the pastel-infused hallucinations were well pronounced even in the low range of the dose spectrum. The ubiquitous glimmer and shimmer, patterning, morphing, trails, etc. were inescapable at just 10mg, though in no way did the visual component distract the mind. It really was as though I was having a lucid acid dream.
Additionally, a very curious sensation of bodily magnetization was observed in the first and most subsequent trips. There were times when my hands felt weakly attracted to each another, with an increasing strength of interaction upon reduction of the separation. A difficult sensation to explore and describe, the only comparison I can come up with is to how my brain felt on acid with magnetite in both hands. Playing with two small pieces of the mineral on L, the attractive and repulsive forces seemed to induce cranial sensations, mimicking the polar interplay in my hands by bending and bowing what felt like the interiors of my dome. With the 2C-E, however, the feeling was not in my head but in the hands, and in the absence of magnets. Peculiar.
The bump to 12mg upped the intensities of the colors another two notches, and it is certainly another real step up to 14mg. At 15mg the trails were sustaining over absurd durations. Mind you, there were no observed side effects up to 15mg. And by no side effects, that includes mental confusion. With 15mg of 2C-E I was as lucid as could be and visually hallucinating on a level at which it'd have been very hard to walk or communicate were the effects from mushrooms or acid. In the river one day a friend was splashing around, throwing water into the air like a human fountain. Turning away for literally 10 seconds I could turn back and still see the suspended droplets that had been thrown upwards where before I had been looking. L-u-c-i-d-l-y! Madness I say. Perhaps [scaled properly to body weight] fifteen is a sweet spot of sorts, at least for those who enjoy a somewhat less imposing or twisted psychedelic experience. The clarity of mind is phenomenal, assuming you aren't the type of person that finds visuals to be distracting. Though I suppose some people might find the idea of mind-blowing hallucinations in a relatively completely conscious state twisted, to say the least.
By 17mg the landscapes were morphing wildly. Asphalt took on a cosmic dimension, pebbles appearing like boulders on the surface of an alien planet; glitter littered the faces of passersby; trails that made winged girls look like chinese dragons, everyone suddenly appearing as cute little caricatures of themselves. Though still generally clear-headed at this level and even higher doses, the tripping definitely started to get em much stronger and small side-effects began to manifest. Most noted unwanteds were headaches and difficulty urinating, though neither became major issues.
As for the tripping, well, at higher doses I certainly started to act more like a tripping person. When you are completely spun in the very middle of a crowd of 75,000 people, it is not particularly logical to run off in a concerned panic hoping to find a medic after the man in front of you topples over and passes out in the mud. Arriving at the exterior of the mass, it was of great embarrassment to be asked where help was needed. As if I had any fucking clue where I had just come from. So blindly intent was I to act before assessing, a single bout of humiliation was inadequate. The second, acute, round of indignity occurred upon finding out that the man in the mud was a narcoleptic. He had been snoring, not seizing. Still, pretty clearheaded, certainly no real problems communicating, just way more spun than one can be without being a little tweaked. It was a step from 17 to 18, another up to 19, and at 20mg I was tripping so hard my eyes were shut. It was an all out CEV daydream, with many themes straddling the space behind and before the eyelids.
The desire to push it beyond 20mg never materialized into an experience. And in fact there was only one trip at twenty. While the effects at this peak dose were undeniably entertaining and intensely vivid, in comparison to LSD and mescaline, 2C-E seemed borderline superficial, somehow failing to access the level of cosmic dynamism and synergy that are flaunted by the classics.
By no means did I feel like the trip was not strong enough. On the contrary, it was incredibly strong. But whether because I perceived the hallucinations to be explicably unreal, or simply because the drug did not offer an element of mental stimulation that I was able to access, the 2C-E ultimately felt a little shallow. In no way is it not truly powerful (pardon the double negative). The ethyl is a crazy little fucker. As far as I can tell, the dose-response curve of the ethyl is exponential as has been reported elsewhere.
The lower end of the upper spectrum was fantastic---trips like wonderful little storybooks, very much unlike the journey experience offered by psilocybin, LSD and mescaline. (Wait, did mescaline just get grouped with fungus and L? But mescaline is the mother to the 2C's?! You might be asking yourself... Well, as you know, experiences vary wildly between people; mescaline, as personally experienced, is a formal endeavor so to speak, and distinctly different than the 2C's, though that isn't to say they are without some similarities.) But they were just that, storybooks. As many times as I found pleasure in the ocular landscapes offered by lower doses of the ethyl, nothing particularly substantive precipitated out of the explorations, they were simply pleasant vignettes.
Let me be clear, I do not believe people should be seeking major epiphanies on drugs---shit, it's the epiphanies that make people do the craziest things. But it is nice to feel like you were forced into looking at something differently each time you explore. Not necessarily something about the drug or its effects, just something. It could be anything. Certainly with the higher doses, just a couple extra milligrams, the experience was much enhanced. But it was a narrow window, 17-18mg lead to a number of very much cherished memories, while 19 and 20mg seemed unproductive. Ethyl's sense of humor and duality flourished at 17 and 18 for me, while both were significantly inhibited by the sheer voyeurism two or three additional milligrams provided. Reports of 25 mg appear in Pihkal---I'm not sure what that 25\% increase would have done to me, and frankly I'm pretty sure I never want to find out.
10 - 15mg: ++ to ++.5
17 - 18mg: ++.5 to +++
19 - 20mg: +++
(2C-B:) This will have to be short, as bromo was only consumed on three occasions. The purity was not verified, so dosage information is omitted.
Generally speaking, bromo just seemed way too neon and tactile for me. It was pleasant, but nowhere near as beautiful as the `I' or the `E', and seemingly not as active in the daytime. Things kicked up when night rolled in, but the landscapes looked as though they had been painted with Day-Glo and were fluorescing under black-light. Very little exploring was done and there is thus little to discuss with respect to 2C-B. It is worth noting that most people report an entirely more complex trip when bromo is insufflated. It has repeatedly been argued that it isn't bromo unless you put it up your nose. Not my preferred orifice.
(2C-C:) Pihkal dose range: 20 - 40mg
If you have made it this far you might be wondering if a bomb is ever going to drop. Promise, it is coming.
With the iodo and ethyl there was no desire to push up the dosage. The body-load of the `I' was dissuading, and the potency of the `E' was plentiful. The mistake I resisted with `I' and `E' lurked around a nearby corner, waiting for me to `C' it.
The effects of 2C-C were nicely summarized in an online post as being akin to a psychedelic valium. Indeed, as indicated at the 40mg level in Pihkal, the drug is both relaxing and quite active. Experiences at 34, 40 and 45mg fit this description. Other than the down-tempo narcotic push of the chloro there was no detectable body-load.
Looking back it seems at least a little strange that doses lower than 34mg were not explored. I suppose my impression from reports had been (whether rightfully or wrongly) that the effects of dosages lower than that could be somewhat ambiguous. Perhaps when a visitor decided to take 35mg and pissed their pants, completely faced, it might have tipped me off to the potential potency of this compound given the right circumstances (i.e. someone else's body) or stupidities (my own).
It can be hard to see the thing you are looking for when it is directly in front of your face...
At 34mg the visuals presented casually. Swaying oriental patterns flowed in and out of surfaces, off of tress and light. Another six up to 40mg brought out definition in the textures, and the bump to 45mg was real for me, but by no means a jump.
Moving higher still I seemed to be far from my ceiling. With 50mg the room was dripping rainbows. The mid-fifties range appeared very docile and chill. A dose of 60mg produced Newton fractals and transformed the outdoors into alien-esque landscapes \textit(a la) 2C-E. Still there was an absence of body-load, the mellow push of the chloro lessening with the higher doses. I recall telling a close friend that there seemed to be great potential for the 2C-C. Concernedly expressing their disapproval, the fitting response I got was, ``potential for WHAT?'' They did not understand why there inherently had to be this thirst for... more. What was I really seeking under the guise of this claim to be ``probing deeper.'' Deeper into what? More is never enough. Unable to recognize the dualism...
There was nothing rational about what I did next. So much care had been exhibited with the other explorations, the decision that followed seems like an anomaly in reflection. But we all know what curiosity does to kitties. The 25% dosage increase that scared the shit out of me with 2C-E didn't even elicit a flinch when 75mg of 2C-C went down the hatch. By no means did the reports of doses this high serve to dissuade me. I mean, dripping rainbows, Newton fractals, let's go! W-R-O-N-G. Wrong wrong wrong. So fucking wrong.
Casually inhaling some of the dentist's delight, less than twenty minutes after eating the dose, the visuals hit me over the back of the head. From the periphery of my field of vision the colors crashed in towards the center of my gaze. I could tell I was in for a ride, but had not even considered that the super-fast come-up might be an indication of anything horribly atypical. We were just sitting around hanging out... when things began to get out of hand.
First with the profuse sweating. Then the shivering and chills. Then both simultaneously. Clearly the chemical was not agreeing with me physically; but the possibility that I might disagree with it mentally had not yet entered my mind. And then...
Sitting on the couch staring blankly down towards my knees my vision began to magnify, transforming the corduroy on my pants from medium width to super-jumbo sized. Glancing up at my hands they appeared like blown-up latex gloves, ballooning. Everything was magnified by a factor of three or four. The absurdity of the effect was a kick to the face. As colors swirled, prismatic mosaics engulfing the room, the painting on my retina seemed to be layering new insanities on top of the old ones, dancing further and further away from the recognizably analog. The visual world had been transformed purely into a digitized comic book, inhabited by pixilated cartoon creatures with massive bulging tumors protruding out of their necks and heads, all of which I was seeing as if through an optical microscope.
That was my first full blown encounter with the fear.
There had been prior flirtations; a handful of respectable interactions. But when the fear decides that the line has been crossed, there is nothing respectable about the intra-personal apocalypse that ensues.
Were it not for the presence of three incredible people who provided the single fraying thread of reality-yarn at which to grasp, I can only imagine. Friends are pretty amazing. Thank you so much guys. I can't thank them enough.
Curled in the fetal position on a friend's bed, another cuddling me from behind, battling what seemed like the imminent disaster of urinating all over myself, my friend and the bed... The intensity of the mirage and the bodily discomfort increased in tandem. Even the closed eye visuals were somehow markedly magnified; it was too much to handle. What had I done to myself? This state did not feel solely hallucinogenic; the fear screamed in my ears, berating me for having done something that felt so wrong as to seem irreversible. Piles of meaningless visual drivel rapidly fell from the sky, but never constructively cohered.
Already well over the edge, approximately three and a half hours in total were spent suspended in mid air. The extended duration curled up in a ball provided the priming for the climax of the trip---if you can call it that. Around hour three I found myself in an egg of sorts. Simultaneously I was seeing the view from inside the egg, as well as the view outside. Both worlds were still wildly metamorphosing when it occurred to me that it was very much like I had somehow become trapped inside of Dali's ``Geopoliticus Child Watching the Birth of a New Man,'' and was viewing myself struggling to get out of the egg. The realization that what I was experiencing could be connected to something outside of myself must have been what started to bring me down. Half an hour later, I was back to being communicable. After a full night's sleep I awoke to the cherished sobriety that had been exiled the previous eve. My psyche was deeply shaken but nothing had
physically been stirred beyond repair.
It was of great relief, though not a total surprise, when my vision began progressing back towards the preferred state of not being magnified. The relief of course cannot be overstated. For whatever reason, the magnification effect scared the living shit out of me. The feeling it kindled was entirely unnatural, mechanizing me to the point of artificiality. I was trapped in just three dimensions, no way to see outside of the box. There was nothing tangible or worthwhile to view in the hallucinogenic construct that surrounded me. Not to say it wasn't beautiful. Magnificent. But empty. Certainly the magnification of emptiness yields little new insight. Maybe the fear prevented me from finding value in the effect; it is debatable.
34 - 45mg: ++
50 - 60mg: ++.5
75mg: an immensely displeasurable +++
25mg 2C-C with 10mg 2C-E
25mg 2C-C with 12mg 2C-I
Both of the combinations tested were only investigated on single occasions and it has become difficult to remember what experience matches up with which mixture. Their mention is included as an additional testament to the apparent safety of such endeavors. The experiences are difficult to recall in great detail, but generally speaking were each an incidence of sublimation! Madly enjoyed. Among the mentionable highlights, unusually jovial demeanor, outrageous dragon fractals... and a funny incident in irresponsibility...
Allow me to preface: Driving on hallucinogens is dangerous and stupid. I donít recommend you engage in such activities, which senselessly endanger other people. Seriously, despite the text that follows.
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
...Sometimes one's irresponsible action is the most responsible of the choices available. Being the only person in the house without a huge excess of alcohol lingering freshly in their system at four thirty in the morning after a night of raging, I somehow was appointed last minute chauffeur. Have the tripping person drive (hydroplane) our mate to the airport with the sky pissing rain, great idea. Getting there wasn't a problem, having company to keep me alert. The goal of getting myself home without a hiccup however... well... promptly choked on the fat white traffic arrow painted on the asphalt directly opposing my car's direction of travel as I pulled out of departures.
But there are times when you just have to go with your gut, when something seems so reason-able---that the tripping driver would somehow manage to end up facing the wrong direction at the airport, of all the controlled places---as to be unreasonable---in that this tripping driver wouldn't have been driving if they were tripping hard---to remind yourself that the huge fucking arrow you are violating isn't fucking real and that you just need to get the fuck out of there and go to fucking bed. Fuck! It might also be of interest to note: ever wondered why Raoul Duke waited until an hour outside of Vegas to dose L? 'Cause you can drive on mescaline ((grin))
(Discussion and conclusions:)
To those of you who mess around with this stuff without properly weighing out your doses on a scale with appropriate precision, and especially those who simply divide up their white powders without the aide of a scale, hopefully my experiences have demonstrated that even when all the appropriate precautions have been taken you can still make bonehead mistakes. Don't increase your chances exponentially by being uninformed or unprepared. That's just stupid. Stupid shit can happen even when you're trying not to be a bonehead. Responsible drug use is putting your drugs to good use!
The line between a good time and a miserable trip is not excessively wide. There is a little margin for error, but I recommend you minimize that wiggle room as much as possible. As the upper end of the recreational dosage range is approached the fabled line can quickly disappear from perception, a relatively minute sliver dividing amusement from an episode of overindulgence. When you consider increasing your dose and are utilizing an online resource to guide that decision, be wary of how differently everyone responds to these substances. Just because 35mg of 2C-C was at the low end of the spectrum for me, it doesn't mean that 35mg won't righteously fuck one of you up. As mentioned previously, that is all it took to completely wreck one friend. Likewise, there appear to be people out there who can take 75mg of 2C-C or more without getting phased in the least.
With this is mind, an equally important concern when you are choosing a dose is purity---not only the purity of your own powders, but also the purity of those people whose reports assist or influence your decisions. Most people will never have any way of properly verifying the identity and purity of the substances they possess, an unfortunate state of circumstance. Of course, you cannot verify the purity or identity of the drugs other people report on either. But having online resources puts one leg up for you, provided you approach reports with the utmost criticality. If no mention of purity was made in a report, then one must account for that uncertainty when deciding on a dose. Similarly, if the purity was reported, is the author credible? Did someone read 99.9% off the bottle and report it as pure? Was the drug field tested with an indicator? Or did they actually characterize a given sample with sophisticated instrumental methods? Asking these sorts of questions may help prevent a difficult or dangerous trip one day. Had I been less idealistic in my evaluation of the literature perhaps I would never have had the experience that required [the writing of] this record. And that would not necessarily have been a bad thing.
An overwhelming majority of people, myself included, will never know with any certainty roughly, or precisely, how much acid was in any particular dose. I have come to question if the remanent mystique I feel for this beloved molecule might be due partly to the difficulty confronted in repeating doses at any one consistent level. I suppose if one were to drop the same blotter you might replicate dosages within a few percent error, assuming a sheet is evenly portioned. But while completely unfounded, I have heard speculation that asymmetric distribution on paper is common, a consequence of hanging during the drying process. With liquid, the drop size seems like a crap-shoot. Not to mention that since the occasions are now quite rare in which I find myself on LSD, it is likely to be from a different batch than the previous trip. Accordingly, each has been unique and original. It rips at my sanity, teasing my sensibilities in and out of reach. Then in perfectly harmonious contradiction it plops down a moment or sequence of impeccable clarity, only then to rip my perception to shreds promptly once again. Vicious and multi-dimensional... I was hoping to resist writing about acid, but my fascination cannot be contained. Do I really believe that the purported inability to dose reproducibly accounts for the magic of LSD in any significant way? Of course not.
So, how did this all transpire? (you might ask)
This is where the issue of my [overt] drug prejudice must be addressed. Sometimes the first mistake defines the events that proceed from it. It was a puerile assumption to have thought that another hallucinogenic compound might be utilized as a substitute for LSD. The episode with the chloro was like a slap in the face from a disrespected professor. Though something I knew well before beginning the explorations, somehow a very real part of my lesson was the reminder of every molecule's distinctness. Guess that's what I get for treatin' 'em like subs. Luckily, a good teacher won't spite you. I didn't understand some of the things that made acid so special to me until I finished with the 2Cs. The imminent flaw was bound in my simplistic perception that the visual element of a hallucinogenic material's activity was cornerstone to the psychedelic experience. Indeed, the visual hallucinations can be so overwhelming as to be the focal point of one or
many trips. In my own case, it seems an excess of visual stimulus was required to prompt the recollection that the psychedelic experience is about far more than unspeakably beautiful and complex imaginations. In the hunt for maximal effect I had forgotten about all the other layers of tripping; I had lost sight of the more valuable [more] real complexities.
What am I trying to convey? As stupid as this sounds, I had to experientially (and forcefully) be taught the lesson that visuals do not define tripping. Knowing something isn't always enough. Having crazier hallucinations doesn't necessarily perpetuate profundity in a trip. In my experience, most of the many pleasures and benefits of psychedelics are accessed in the relative comfort zone. It can be enjoyable and valuable to push oneself outside of that zone, but getting too far gone often fails to provide the desired platform for personal growth or grounding for short term entertainment. At least if you take a massive dose and live to tell about it, you might just blab your yap online about the things you were able to take away from the experience... Sometimes the hardest lessons to learn are the one's you think you already know. It was hard to hear the music with the speakers shining right in my fucking face.
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