Citation: RegularToker. "Power and Speed: An Experience with 4-Methylethcathinone (exp91335)". Erowid.org. Jul 1, 2011. erowid.org/exp/91335
0:00 4-mec 2mg insufflated
0:10 4-mec 6mg insufflated
0:30 4-mec 6mg insufflated
1:00 Caffiene 70mg Oral
2:55 4-mec 3mg insufflated
3:45 4-mec 4mg insufflated
4:05 4-mec 4mg insufflated
To start off this report, I would like to introduce the reader to the history of my drug use. Not only to give some sense of my experience, but also to alleviate the pressure of writing a suitable opening to the experience I'm about to describe. For the last several years I have consumed: uncountable quantities of marijuana, many grams of jwh-018 and jwh-073 powder, a world of synthetic cannabis, LSD, LSA, 2c-e, 2c-c, propylhexedrine, nitrous oxide, dextromethorphan (in more bottle and pills than I could count), diphenhydramine, cocaine, caffeine and nicotine.
Many chemicals have passed my mind and body. My past has been awash with rehabilitation, addiction, fiending, HPPD and pleasure. This drug was not my first -certainly my twenty-first - and will certainly not be my last. This is an excerpt from a single day of use and the effects that became apparent after ingestion. As it goes, I'm coming down from my last dose and would like to consume the drug again.
My body feels warm and awash with new energies, let me tell you when this started... All of you uninterested in my tale can skip right past all the memories and head right to the information, which is located a good ways down.
4:27 pm, I awake from a nearly-lucid dream. My senses flow back into me with a much more discernible reality. My floor is covered with used clothing and pieces of drug paraphernalia. Posters adorn the wall, poorly mounted, one has fallen in my sleep. My head is filled with worries, a half-written sociology report is on my computer, our router is down and the house is without Internet, my friends have left me at home without a concern to call.
I fumble with my body, the valerian root I took to sleep had left me drowsy and demented. I wasn't hungry, but I craved a cigarette. Doping down the stairs, dressed half in formal wear and half in my bed-clothes, I walked toward the door, out the door and toward the driveway. As I took to my car for cigarettes and matches, I wondered when my package would arrive. Some obscure parcel was to come in the mail from a foreign land, containing the drugs which I was about to experiment with,
Hell yes! The package had arrived.
Let me skip forward some time and not bore you with the miniscule of my sober life. Of coarse, the exploits of my day could be describe with superfluous merit and value, but I know what you came across this page for: drug information and a well-written experience which will somehow illustrate the effects of this drug in entertaining fashion. I hope to not disappoint.
As my last attempt to eyeball a dose was unsuccessful - being that the dose was too small to assuage my appetite for stimulation, I will break again from this text to fill the recessed filter of my Parliament with crystalline white powder and enjoy the sting and pain of another dose.
How much powder can be held in the tip of a Parliament anyway? If it wasn't for my mg scale, I would still feel my doses to be within the safe range. This distraction put aside, I will take again to my text and continue my story.
10:45 pm. With my acquittance, drug lords and friends told of my recent encounter with this foreign substance, I decided it was time to test the potency of the drug to the best of my ability and hope to not encounter any adulteration or false labeling. I trusted my supplier, even the stranger whom I had drugged trusted the fine white and off-white powders which I had proposed they take. It was a strange trust, almost a blend faith in these benevolent organizations which propelled me to so many journeys and trips. A touch of the potent stimulant and I would know for certain if my trust was well placed.
A burn, unlike cocaine, flared in my nostril. A diverged septum had kept me from using my right to dose. The stimulant hit me as a new sense of vigor, cutting through the hot summer heat and pulsating in my body with life and wakefulness. It was definitely a stimulant, it's empathogenic powers would be untested in the solo voyage that was to come. It was clean, strong and most-importantly altered my waking reality with a brief boost of virility.
My sense of time slowed, my mind was sharp and agile. I took the dose outside, looked around and assessed my surrounding for something to liven the senses. My car was parked on the other side of our house, it's dark blue hue was covered with darkness. Wait! I had six cigarettes remaining, four American Spirit menthol and two Pall Mall Red , This would certainly be too few for a stimulant-filled cruise through the night's energy. A half-pack of Parliament was still at a friend's house. Did he return from his night's endeavors? I called, the answer was, “yes.”
I got into my car, put on a Lou Reed/David Bowie mix and railed a full dose off a bottle cap with a straw while listening to “Heroin.” A bitter taste filled my palette and pleasure was soon to follow.
Reverse, then into first. The ten-year old sports car came to life with excite. Flying down the roads and highways to my friends house, drifting through turns with keen precision. My car roared and reveled with power. Within three minutes I had traveled the two miles to my friend's house.
Driving while intoxicated, tripping, or extremely sleep deprived is dangerous and irresponsible because it endangers other people. Don't do it!]
The car was put into park, four headlights were cut of power and I stepped out. To his window I went, knocking on the glass that seperated us, he answered in second. He opened the screen and handed them to me.
“You should open a drive-through, you'd make a killing.” I jest.
“Yeah, that would be the life. Hey, that shit you have, you take it yet?”
“It's pretty good, better stim than what I've taken before. “
“What's it like?” This question always perplexed me. I usually answered it on my own by consuming whatever chemical perplexed me toward these ends.
“It's a stimulant, stronger than adderall, cleaner than cocaine. I've heard it's more like e, but I'm yet to see anything like that.”
“Well, have fun.” He chuckled as I skipped across the street with a Parliament in my mouth.
Light returned to the sly-looking headlights. Straight ahead, through the neighborhood and onto the thoroughfare. Where the could I go at this hour? My kleptomania was acting up - something my therapist was trying to alleviate. Nothing was open, except the roads.
I stole myself and let myself and took to the parkway. Spare change filled the coffer as I flew down the acceleration lane, which I took for granted as such. Seventy five and I careened into the left lane. 3 lanes, one car for miles and a full tank of gas. I took all the liberty the government entrusted me with - and a good bit more - as I got up to 90 and let loose my six-cilender beast.
This was too slow, too melancholy. Of course the speed was high, but my level of stimulation called it to be higher. Above 95 the zen of the road comes to life. The steering losens, the road stretches out in all its vastness. Road lights flicker as I pass at such high speeds. There is but the road and the driver, all else becomes an irrelevant piece of vain background.
Cars parted to let through the drug-addled psycho careening down the road. The road was mine, there was no one to contest me. A long stretch, with sweet curves, compelled me. 95-100-105-110. I took all the liberty the road provided, usurped the laws with my speed and longed for more. The nighttime air rushed passed, my vehicle whipped and antagonized the oncoming air. A bolt of lightning off the bow! And another break from writing for another dose.
After rushing headlong into the battlements of the night, I felt drowsy and beaten by the excite that once held my interest with such power. I was coming down, as was my speed. I slowed to take a ramp off the parkway and head home.
After all the verbose writing that has become the mainstay of my paper so far, I'll cut right to the chase: the mind behind the madness and the effects of the drug that spawned my night and this report.
The drug is a powerful stimulant with few physiologically negative short-term side effects. It inspired a strong desire to redose. I believe and can report that so long as my overall dosing is within safe ranges, the possibility of negative consequences are relatively low. It's possible that insufflated doses cause a higher rate of redosing, as the effects last a much shorter time than oral and the very nature of such a method lends itself to the addictive potential. I have read the hangover is rather troublesome with this drug. I swear it off now, but who knows whether I'll wake up, rail a line and continue the pattern of dosing and dosing again?
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