Well... That Was Definitely An Experience...

BicycleDay.jpg

A couple days back I made an essay were I advocated for everybody trying psychedelic drugs at least once in their life as long as they weren’t prevented from doing it for other reasons, such as dangerous medication interactions or pre-existing health conditions that create added risks.

I didn’t get to say everything I wanted in that essay, so the distraction I’m giving you for when you’re on the can or otherwise have a few minutes to kill today is still one of my favorite things to do:

Drugs.

Like… Only certain drugs, and in a well-informed, medically aware, and scientifically literate way that leads to  me acting more responsibly and  makes the overall experience way safer. Still, I'm advocating for mind-altering substances being ingested for fun. I can feel the normie judgements about how stupid I am and hear them telling their buddies to check out this junkie.

No, friendo, I’m not on heroin. I am also not smoking crack, nor have I ingested methamphetamine in any form. For the sake of keeping things interesting I’ll let you guess whether I’ve taken some other basic amphetamine. Obviously I’ve smoked a decent number of marijuanas over the last 12 hours; don’t even dare try and act special for making that easymode call.

That’s like watching a Superman movie and predicting Superman’s gonna fly around a lot and win at the end.

No shit, Sherlock, got any other clairvoyant predictions? Aim higher in life than just picking the easiest thing you can find and succeeding at it so you can call yourself a success you ya bum. (I'm just kiddin'. You know I love you, babes.)

All the judgements people would've made involving drugs had I not clarified like that would prevent them from listening to this article, and honestly just the idea of drugs may still push some people to to outright disregard what I say for that ridiculously petty reason. I can’t help a mental block installed into another’s person mind by propaganda, but if you have such a block and you’re still tuned in I'd like to ask you to try and set it aside for a bit so you can hear me out on this.

My argument is that every every adult in our society should trip on one of the classic psychedelics (LSD, magic mushrooms, DMT/ayahuasca, or peyote) at least once in their life with a few medically necessary exceptions.
(See disclaimer at essays end. If you ignore this shit and something bad happens, I’m not responsible)

I’m gonna just throw out a few famous intellectuals who were very much in agreement with me on the positive effects  of psychedelics and then share some first hand experiences that elaborate on how certain positive effects are brought on when analyzed from the first person experience and demonstrate why I stress the importance of following the rules to help avoid negative experiences from the first of these trippy essays.


First and foremost, I need to give credit where credit is due. Here's the man that made all of this possible:

Albert Hoffman.

Chances are you don’t know that name off-hand, but you are familiar with his most important discovery LSD-25, or "The Alphamolcule" as I like to call it. Hoffman was a biochemist working for a pharmaceutical company called Sandoz in Switzerland creating a rather mundane, tedious catalogue of all possible chemicals that could be derived from a fungus known to grow on rye called ergot for no real reason other than knowing what possible chemical compounds were available there and maybe luck into a money maker like a cold medicine or something.

He certainly lucked into something, but it wasn’t a thing that I suspect will help with a chronic cough.

During the routine of synthesizing the next possible chemical on the list, documenting its properties, putting it in a container and then locking it in storage he accidentally spilled an extremely tiny drop of a chemical he'd made from lysergic acid on his hand, washed it off, and then returned to working without knowing how important that happy accident really was.

You see, although it was only a tiny drop and he rinsed it off almost immediately, LSD is extremely potent and is active in the tiniest doses, which are measured in micrograms. By the time our PhD friend got home, he became acutely aware of feeling... sorta different than usual…

I’ve traveled back in time telepathically to quote his exact thoughts verbatim for you the moment he realized he'd discovered something that was incredibly fuckin' dope:

“I dunno man I've felt soooo weird all afternoon... maybe? I think so... definitely… okay ya, I’m trippin' balls. Technically I haven't even invented trippin' balls yet. How do I know that word? What the fuck is going with my mind?  This shits dope as fuck. I bet it was that LSD-25 shit I spilt on my hand. Dude if it is,I’m gonna fucking revolutionize the world. Also, I dunno, probably make one of the lead Beatles more entertaining sometimes but also kinda pretentious and nonsensical other times. I don’t even know who The Beatles are, but I’m pretty sure someone will tell them they've misspelled that name before it catches on.”

Yes, that’s verbatim.

The next day, April 19, 1943, Sir Dr. Godking Emperor Chief of All Things Dubbed Trippy and Creator of the Sacred Mystical Intellectual Scientific and Fun Alphamolecule, Albert Hoffman PhD of TrP InG esq.(Official title) intentionally dosed himself with pure LSD 25, and then became the first man to ever peak on acid while he was riding his bike home from work that world changing day, which has been forever dubbed "Bicycle Day".

Albus Hoffledore observed that colors were more vibrant and alluring, sounds had the power to move his soul, and the whole world seemed more detailed and energetic. He also noticed that his thinking had vastly altered from its normal linear functions and was producing far more complex philosophies and observations. Things that seemed unconnected previously were suddenly revealed to be intrinsically entwined in the nature of their beings . Formerly conflicting concepts suddenly merged and complemented each other. The universe simply made more sense than before in way that transcended  human language.

Again, I’m time traveling for an exact quote here:

“Dude… I knew it was this LSD-25 shit that made me all twacked out last night. There's absolutely no way this stuff doesn't pop off hard and fuel a worldwide cultural revolution. Oh sweet lordy Jesus... or like... any higher power if there is one, thank you.

I’m tellin motherfuggin’ everybody I know about this shit because it is thoroughly good. Like, legit I’ma  just walk up to some random ass dude walkin’ out the grocery store and be like:

Homie check out this new miracle drug I invented that’ll fucking blow the doors keepin' your mind trapped in a shitbox studio apartment clean off the hinges and move it into an upscale condo down by the river....

What???  No I'm not buying you a condo, I'm trying to give you dr... The condo isn’t even real dude, it was a metaphor.

You know what, nevermind. It ain’t for people like you.


and then take the doses myself cause seriously fuck that guy if he didn’t realize I wasn’t actually getting him a condo.”

Again, yes that's verbatim. I don't get why everybody doubts me on this. I promise I used telepathic projection just like everyone else does when they quote a dead person’s thoughts from 70 years earlier.  Wait what? You're sayin' you’ve never fired your consciousness through time and space into the past to hear a person’s thoughts before? I mean most 5 year olds have but whatever....

You're fuckin' weird, man...

Science and intellectual thought owe so much to this chemical. The double-helix model of DNA that you’re all super familiar with was the product of a very drugged up biologist. That shit revolutionized our understanding of cellular biology and the functions by which life reproduces and evolves. DNA was pumped about being invented and wanted to see if LSD could help it get any cooler, so LSD tossed it a bone and helped someone invent PCR to artificially replicate DNA sequences. That's just two of the Nobel Prizes LSD has won people, given to Francis Crick for DNA's double helix model and Kary Mullis for PCR.

It should also be noted that the Honorable Godking was the first to synthesize psilocybin, and spent a life inventing trippy shit.

Great job A Hoff, you done gud friend. Thx4da alphamolecule.

Then there’s one the most prominent philosophers of the 20th century, whose ideas have shaped your worldview and guided the authorities overseeing your life whether you or they are aware of it or not, My spirit animal: Aldous Huxley. His most famous work is a novel called "A Brave New World". I suspect if you're an avid enough reader for my work you're at least aware of it; if not just know it's one of the most influential books of the last century. He also published a bunch of essays (Really? Essays? Only a total fuggin' loser would do some shit like that) and many of them were about the merits of psychedelics and his philosophies surrounding them.

(Seriously though, who does that? I'm not judgin' or anything. I'm jus' sayin', writin' essays about psychedelics isn't a thing I'd choose do with my time.)

His second most prominent book is called "Doors of Perception" and it's about tripping balls on tons of peyote.

(More essays about tripping??? I dunno... I guess I'm just never gonna understand. Takes all kinds to make a world, I suppose)

He was so much more than a dude who wrote about psychedelics though. I'm sure the guy would be pissed if I didn't point that out. He was a prolific writer who published almost constantly for decades on a wide range of subjects, and in reality psychedelics were only a small part of his full body of work. His philosophies have literally shaped our world. He's what I wish I could be someday, but setting a distinguished and world-changing career like his as my goal would be just plain fucktarded. If I'm just half as successful and influential as he was, that'd make me a thousand times more successful than I'm expecting.  

Then there’s a couple nobodies that pop up in Google searches associated with psychedelics:  

Like who the fuck has ever heard of... “Bill Gates”? Who is this guy? Some no namer scrub I’m sure... it says here that he sold windows? There's gotta be some marketing fuckery goin' down if a window installer is comin' up in the top searches. They don't even sound like good windows; this page is advertising the things as "Microsoft." I want my windows to be thick glass that's tempered to be harder than concrete, ya bum.

And why is there even an article dedicated to the LSD use of this “Steve Jobs” guy? Does anyone have a clue who this clown is? It says he sold apples or some shit. He’s also an idiot who thinks you say the phrase "My Phone" as "iPhone" and doesn't even know to capitalize the "I". And is his last name really “Jobs”? I bet it's not. I bet this chump was trying to make himself look fancy like rappers who give themselves last names like “Money”. I promise this dude didn’t even have a fuckin’ job.

Seriously… I’m just gonna use Bing from now on. Google is obviously shit if it's givin’ me this stuff.

Okay, so here there's like 5 different dudes that are something called “Nobel Prize Laureates”? I don’t even know a Laura. Do any of you guys know a Laura? Ya, didn't fuggin' think so. I'm about done with this; Bing is garbage too apparently.

Okay, to be fair, I knew that before I typed "bing.com" into my browser. I just wanted to see how a company could spend that much on advertising and still fail so hard. Plus, I figured I'd be their first visitor ever sooo…. 

Congratulations on getting your first visitor, Bing! 
(Hook me up with some of that ad money muh dudes? I get two or three visitors a day. Jus' sayin', I've seen you pay truckloads for less)

Anyway, back to the topic: I'm havin' some trouble findin' famous intellectuals for you muh dudes. Every search keeps pulling up these scrubs nobody's ever heard of like... "Ken Kesey"? I dunno I guess he wrote book called "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest" that Jack Nicholson turned into a movie or something? I mean it won an oscar, but it's from before the 90's which means it's not cool.  If it's from before the 90's and it's a book, that means nobody's ever heard of it except old people. If only old people have heard of it, that makes it lame AF. Plus, dude is a writer and writing is dumb; nobody reads 'cause reading is for lames. Who doesn't know that already?

What's a famous intellectual anyway? There really can’t even be such a thing ‘cause intellectuals are nerds and if you’re famous you’re cool.

Bam. Intellectuals can’t be famous. I mean that’s just common knowledge really. Sorry for wastin’ your time I shoulda put more thought into that. Ima  blame…. Uhh... let’s go with drugs. They’re an easy scapegoat.

Ya dude, I know drugs aren’t to blame. I’m just scapegoating them because the normies'll believe it.  This is America. Get with the program. If anything ever goes wrong you blame drugs, or you blame a minority. You can occasionally point at the nearest woman and say it’s her fault but that really only works for white dudes.

If you wanna get technical, I guess everything in America only works for white dudes, but I can’t blame that on drugs or minorities and there’s no women in my room to point at right now so lets just move along dude….

The only famous nerd is Bill Nye and his nerd status is lightweight questionable. He's smart and he has a degree, but his show is kinda entertaining so he's only half nerd. I bet Bill Nye would do LSD with me. I bet that dude parties so hard. For scientific research purposes only of course. Dude has a reputation to maintain

Then you got your famous musicians who love the stuff: You got your Beatleses and your Jimi Hendrixes, all the Syd Barretts that invented the Pink and attached it to the Floyds... Jim Morrison and his love of entryways. It turns out hippy festivals owe their music AND their drugs to old Albertius Hoffinatorman.

I guess these musician types are *sorta* like intellectuals ‘cause technically “Music” is a field of study, but I'm not gonna put Jim Morrison next to the Nobel Prize winners who invented the the double helix model and PCR. Jim doesn't wanna chill with them ‘cause they're no fun and they certainly don't want Jim's crazy ass around. To be fair, the Lizard King probably would end up getting those two dudes injured somehow. I see why those two would rather just chill up there with Alby Hoffa doin' nerdy science shit.

(It's come to my attention that joke hasn't been landing for everyone 'cause they don't know what I mean by "The Lizard King". Jim Morrison is The Lizard King. Shame on you, you uncultured swine.)

Anyway here’s some trip stories:

(Note: All third parties involved in these stories were given made up names in order to protect their real identities)

"The Maiden Voyage" (Waldorf, Maryland. Summer of 2002)

The first time I tripped I was 15. Back in those days I'd only smoked weed, drank and popped oxycontin I stole from Papadukes, but I wanted to do every single drug out there; it was my life's goal. (For science reasons and stuff. I was *really* into experimenting) Heroin and cocaine were high on the list of most wanted due to their popularity amongst musicians who died young and millionaires who spent their entire life savings on illicit drugs. Anyone still early on in the "Do all the drugs quest", I suggest skipping heroin, cocaine, and meth. Just trust me on this one, they're not worth the trouble.


The#1 most wanted for research purposes was a certain mushroom rumored have magical properties, like the ability to make you lose your balance so you trip and fall harder than normal. Something about fallin’ over and hittin’ the ground harder like that was supposed to get you high and make you see things that weren’t real, laugh a lot, and think the wildest shit you’ve ever thought ever. My step-sister and my brother would never stop talking about how hard they tripped, and I needed to know more about the phenomenon. (Again, strictly for scientific purposes.)

One day, my step-sister, Lizzy, dropped by my house with some exciting news for me: She had the line on this strange magical fungus through a local wizard, and she was gonna buy me some cause she knew how bad I needed them for my ongoing research experiment into how much drugs you have to take before you're completely and utterly fried. I told her not to fuck with me and that it’s mean to toy with someone’s emotions like that but she swore she wasn’t messing around.

An hour later, I had 1/8th of an ounce of psilocybin mushrooms in my hand. I couldn’t wake myself up no matter what I did, so I just went with the dream figuring my alarm was gonna go off right as I started eating them.

I had a good friend at this time by the made-up name “Bill” who told me back then that if I ever wrote about him doing drugs 17 years into the future and publish it online using his real name he’d murder me. I haven’t seen him in a while and I don’t *think* he knows where I live, but just to be safe and stuff, Bill is not Bill’s real name.

Me and bill worked out an agreement where he got half my fungus, cause ZC said they were potent and she got me enough for two people, and Bill had access to some pretty rare strains of flowers that I could never find at Home Depot's garden department.

Now here's the thing about trying transmit information pertaining to the tripped out aspect of tripping: There’s no words to accurately describe how it feels. On top of a strange sensation that sorta feels like a calming electricity going through your body called a body buzz, your mind starts firing wildly which makes it start generating different thoughts and drawing abstract yet logical, simple, and sensical conclusions that your brain just can't handle when it's set to normie mode.

Things seem to make more sense but you can’t find the words to describe what’s causing that clarity; You can see and understand those things, but you can’t articulate them. The hallucinations people often bring up tend to be geometric shapes and patterns superimposed over you field of vision or similar patterns that are already a part of everyday sights but you aren’t normally conscious of suddenly becoming noticeable by gaining an iridescent shimmering property. Taking more of the drugs causes more extreme thing’s like people’s faces morphing into other people you know and hearing music or people that aren’t actually there.

It can be overwhelming for new people when all combined, and how vastly unlike our normal mind states it is can cause distress and fear, sorta like how being in a new workplace does till you get familiar with the people there and the scenery. That distress can sometimes trigger panic in people who overthink it. If you take psychedelics and feel that distress, the best thing to do is think back to this little paper here and reassure yourself those unfamiliar and somewhat confusing feelings are normal. just relax it’ll pass try and just adjust and get comfortable with it you won’t be hurt.

Honestly, out of the first few trips I went on in my life, this is the only one that came close to following those rules I laid out in the first essay. Bill had done shrooms twice before which technically made him more experienced than me, and I was in my house, and I was in my normal default mental state. I mean that mental state was seething with constant rage at all humanity for being evil and looking for ways to fuck people over for revenge... about as close to a healthy mental state I was ever gonna get back then though.

It starts out very subtle and you aren’t sure whether you’re feeling something or not, but you sense something *might* be different...ish?... kinda?... maybe??????

So you sit and wait for more information and differentness slowly builds till you definitely notice it but it’s a small change. It keeps building gradually like that till it feels like all those gradual feelings that have been slowly building condense into a solid piece that the universe uses to throw a 99 mph fastball that cracks you in the side of the head annnnnnddddd…

“Welcome to Peaking, The Trippiest Place In Your Current Locations Everywhere! Where our motto is: ’It'll Be An Experience You Have.’”

Whoa look at the thing over there… I mean ya it’s just a wall but do you see that pattern in the paint you never noticed? Holy fuck that’s dope, right? OH SHIT SON CHECK OUT THAT CARPET!!! FUCK YES! Oh man... and like.... All that other petty bullshit you used to care about doesn’t even matter at fucking all… you don’t get how you didn’t understand that it was so small before when it’s been right in front of your face your entire life… Speaking of right in front of your face… You see the loveseat on the other side of the room right? But like you SEE it… Right?

Ya, I know... Fuggin' trippy, man...

The reason I say experience it first hand is because this is not the real thing, and that right there is about the closest a person can get to accurately containing it in words. The closest a person can get  isn't very close at all though, so don’t consider this an acceptable substitute.

Everybody gets their own unique insights from the experience based on their unique mindset and life story. I've got no way of saying what you're gonna learn, but I promise you'll learn something that makes the trip worth it.

The parts where I said stuff like, "You understand things" and "stuff that seems unconnected is suddenly entangled" is so not a good way to transmit what I wish I could say in those places. "Things" and "Stuff" in those sentences are infinitely massive grey areas made up of many many elements that I can't specify at all without adding parts of definitions that aren’t accurate and removing parts of the true meaning that are very important. A word’s definition acts as a border, and what I’m trying to convey is borderless.
What you end up getting istead is infinitely vague “things and stuff” cause our language was made in this mental state and so it wasn’t equipped to address those unseen factors

If a person sees the things and stuff  firsthand, chances are they’ll get it intuitively as people do.

I don’t remember much of what Bill and I talked about or watched on TV that night. I know we spent a lot of time in silence and I began thinking on all kinds of stuff. I remember at one point, I was pondering on my life as one of the few white guys in a mostly black neighborhood and how unfair it was that they could attack me and say mean stuff about me for being white, but I wasn’t allowed to say similar shit back to them about being black with about it being called a hate crime and getting me labeled as a racist.

By the way, I wasn’t a racist and I knew it for a fact. I only hated all the black people in my neighborhood and at my school for bullying me for being white all my life. If I had met a black person that wasn’t one of those guys I woulda considered the possibility of not being angry at them by default. Not my fault a black person who didn’t go to my school or live in my neighborhood had no way of ever crossing paths with me.

Racial dynamics ended up weighing on my mind. I thought about the situation for most of the first half of the trip and kept finding no solution for people picking on me about being white which forced me into a constant racial conflict. I was only angry and spiteful at black people for them starting the problem though. I always started shit back on sight with them because they start shit on sight with me. I had a good reason for being angry at all the black people in the world whether they had wronged me or not though.

Like I said: It wasn’t racist cause I had I rational justification and causes that made my “bad” behavior necessary and okay. You don’t believe me? Unfair.

I wasn’t a racist and I knew how I felt about it. I didn’t need anyone to believe me.

It was about midnight and I had the lights in the living room off so my dad wouldn’t know we were awake. I looked up at Bill and the light from the TV hit his face which morphed the color of his skin red. I thought, “Man how much more messed up would it be if we had like... bright red people like Bill right now in the mix too.” Suddenly a buncha images cycled through once every second so making Bill chang into 4 or 5 different imaginary before turning into the darkest black dude I ever saw. I couldn’t help cracking up uncontrollably. The concept of race just seemed so silly 'cause Bill had just been like 6 different races back-to-back and it didn't change who he was. Bill asked why I was laughing at him. Eventually I squeezed out the words, “OMG dude you shoulda seen the colors.” He nodded, smiled, and said, “Oh ya, I get it.” and we both went back into our heads.

Alright, so I guess people who hadn’t directly wronged me didn’t deserve immediate anger for something a different person did just cause the two shared the arbitrary trait of skin color. It was so simple I didn’t get why I didn’t understand that before all this.

Lots of things are like that: Simple and easily understood, but complicated by people sometimes. I dunno that’s how the shrooms made my mind understand life after all this. I kinda felt comforted knowing I could forget some of my default rage level, but like we went from red hot magma just beneath Earth’s crust heat level constantly to red hot lava spewing from the mouth of a volcano. It still cooled some!  

I remember pondering that thought a while, and then me and Bill would just make a few comments and laugh at the cartoons a bit every now and then, I packed some bowls, he packed some bowls. My dad came down to grab a drink and he was kinda peeved I was still up, so he told me to get to bed but then went back upstairs. Occasionally smoke a bowl. Repeat till shroom effects have subsided Bill passed out on my couch and I went to sleep in my room.

The End!

(Or is it???) 

That was just the end of the drug’s mood altering effects. I’d come back from my vacation to the other place that’s right here everywhere, but my brain kept some souvenirs. I was never told this before I took psychedelics but apparently it's common knowledge that even after the trip wears off, the mushrooms have a persistent effect on how a person sees life.

I remember waking up the next day feeling invigorated and more aware of my surroundings. I was definitely sober, but songs I had known forever and listened to thousands of times now had subtle intonations changes I’d never noticed before that made them more complex and interesting to me.

I became less angry for racial reasons, and I began to understand that the guys who attacked me for being white saw familiar telltale body languages that they recognized from racist white men who had trained them to view that “angry at black people by default even if they had never seen me before” mindset I nursed before as the defining struggle of their lives. Once I chilled they chilled.

That deep shift in maladaptive thinking because of the tripocity is the sort of thing psychedelia is made of.

That’s your average regular trip. The majority of psychedelics experiences are like this, and this is what I’m saying everyone should experience once.

This next trip is one my most clear examples of the first type of “bad trip” I talked about in my other essay on psychedelics. You know, one of the ones I gave you rules to help avoid:

"I'm Just A Guy" (Strongsville, Ohio. Fall of 2007)

RULES BROKEN:
-TRIPPED SOMEWHERE I'D NEVER BEEN TO, WHERE I WAS SURROUNDED BY STRANGERS
-WASN'T CAREFUL WITH DOSING


I had given my friend “Luke” a ride to a party house where he hung out a lot, and he said I could come in and kick it. Luke sold me a quarter of shrooms, and I proceeded to eat the entire fuggin' bag, which was the most shrooms I'd ever eaten in my life. Someone asked me why I would do that to myself, and before I could answer a total stranger goes, "Cause when you go balls deep, you don't go half balls deep. You go ALL balls deep," earning himself a fistbump. 
(Indeed, sir)


The thing was, these were some the most potent shrooms I've ever gotten my hands on; that's including the decade that's passed since this night. At this point in my life had never eaten more than an eighth and these boomers were way more potent than those eighths were; I'd accidentally eaten four times my previous highest dose.

The stress of bein' around total strangers cheesed me out and I just sat in a corner with a big ole' smile on my face lookin' goofy as hell. Bein' around all those people made me feel hella self-conscious and I think contributed to the main two thoughts I kept having:

"I am just a guy. Dave is just a made up thing so people don't confuse me with themselves 'cause they're all just a guy too."
(Ego lost)

and

"Life is just like this. The feeling is just bigger from the drug. It’s always there all the time always though. Life is just… like… this... what is "this" though?"

I felt like my mind had blocked access to the rest of my knowledge. The whole time I was forced to philosophize on those thoughts until I had found reasonable answers to them. I straight up could not think of anything not related to those two statements. 

I remember my mind repeatedly jumpin' back to ancient times, to when the cavemen tripped balls, and thinkin' ,"Life probably felt just... like... this... back then and they decided to make up these silly name things to help." I still couldn't think anything other than those two cycling thoughts. The the entire fuggin' time I'm goin' through this identity crisis, I've got total goddamn strangers just starin' at me. They had spot to smoke cigarettes and other party refreshments in the garage. I eventually headed out there and stayed to get away from the pressure of the people and ponder the two dilemmas.

Suddenly, outta nowhere, the answers to the two questions came:

“Dave is a just a label, and I'm just guy. I can make a character though, and put the Dave label on the character then play it. When I'm playing the character Dave, then I'm Dave. My friends are all friends with the character's like Dave too, though. Everybody on Earth, male or female, is just guys playin' characters.  Even if there are other characters with the same label, my Dave is still unique. That means I’m me and I’m Dave. Dave isn’t all of me and I’m not all of Dave, but we're both a part of each other.”
(Ego found)

I think this thought weighed on my mind so much because of all the attention from strangers. I suspect the unintentional aspects of my sociopathy that manipulate people pathologically couldn't figure out what image to portray to best manipulate the situation, and that's what led to my subconscious questioning who "Dave" was. 

"Life does always feel like this. The feeling is fearful uncertainty for the future and my own safety, and won't dissipate until I simply accept that I could go at any second, and stop living as if I have tons of extra time, because I don't know how much time I have left. I'm lucky every time I pass from one second to the next. I could already be dead for all I know. Life is just like that. Accept it and love it. Don't live it in fear."

Then my mind rushed back to completeness and my stomach turned. I ran to the bathroom and puked just... so so much vomit and it reeked....I kept wishing to God he’d make it end but I couldn’t stop. During the last three retches a demon face imprinted itself on my retinas every time I closed my eyes to let it all out, then laughed after I finished completely. That demon shook me for a second, but I just told myself not to waste life on fear. I told myself the demon was just a construct of the mind and shook it off.

Now, most of this trip I didn’t have much fun; at the time, I was constantly wishing it would end. I was completely overwhelmed in a house where I'd never been surrounded by people I didn't know, and that confused me a lot. However, once I'd overcome the problems that'd overwhelmed my mind, I'd gotten a much better understanding and outlook on the world from it. The benefits of the ego dissolution became a core foundation for my eventual reform from sociopathy. Without the openness and ability to change myself that experience gave me, I never would have seen myself for what I was or been able to do anything about it. 

"The Waterworks Fiasco" (Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio. Fall of 2007, about a month after the previous story) 

The broken rules here are:

No plans for a place to be and things to do that accounted for the entire trip, which forced me to drive tripping at the very end.

Do not get behind the wheel of a car while tripping under any circumstances. Even in this case I should have looked for an alternative option, but at the time I felt forced.  I’m lucky I didn’t kill myself or someone else. Gonna go back and add this rule to the other essay now that it occurs to me.

And

Not listening to more experience trippers when they told me not to be paranoid.



In this one, I was with Luke and a our friend "Shitbag McDouchernose-Supreme" (Love ya, bud) in a giant public park in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio called "Waterworks". We'd each dropped 8 hits of acid and went to see a movie called “Across the Universe”. It's a musical made from Beatles covers that's set to to trippy ass visuals. Great trip movie; never seen it sober.

The problem is, acid lasts longer than the runtime of a movie. We ended up walking around this massive public park to kill time. We had so much fuggin fun. Wish I had time to tell the tale. All night I kept asking Shitbag and Luke “What if cops come?!?!?” They told me if the cops came they'd say not to be in the park after dark and send us home. I sitll wouldn't let the paranoia die.

Eventually, a cop car did catch site of us crossing a road within the parks, and as soon as I saw those lights turn on my paranoia triggered and I started running. Luke and Shitbag split up; I had just forced them to run.

I was running on the edge of the road scared shitless when I had a genius thought: “Don’t run on the road, stupid! Cars drive on roads!” I ran into the clearing I was alongside, towards a nearby pavilion. I'd forgotten crucial information: Cars also drive on grass. The cop clipped my hip going about 10 mph, hopped out of the cruiser, dropped all his weight onto my back, and cuffed me.

It'd been raining on and off all night an my body got pressed into mud while he cuffed; then he pulled me over to the pavilion and started interrogating. I told him hold on let me catch my breath.Only if I had I.D. and I bought a second to breathe for the price of one Ohio driver's license.

Luke and Shitbag McDouchernose-Supreme were gone at this point and I'd honestly forgotten them. I was sittin' a bench/table combos parks have under with my back leaned against table, starin' at the ground. The pattern in the concrete was incredibly vivid and it pulsed with my pounding heart. Adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I retraced my steps tryin' to remember where I was.

Suddenly out of nowhere I hear, “Hey… My bad… I’m with this guy... He’s my ride. I don’t know where I am right now. All I know is it’s a 45 minute drive. Here’s my I.D.” and then Luke plops down on the bench next to me. The cop just wanted to know why we ran and who the other dude was. I kept givin’ him the first name “Shitbag” but I swore I didn’t know his last name. Luke said he didn’t know anymore than I did.

Eventually the cop called Luke’s parents. It was just before his 18th birthday and he was still technically a minor, so this was a curfew problem mostly. They said Luke wouldn’t be in trouble as long as he headed directly home. The cop decided to lemme go too since I was Luke’s transportation. I couldn't believe I wasn’t heading to jail. I'd never walked away from a police encounter that blasted out of my mind; my adrenaline was still pumping. I could still see my heartbeat in all the patterns in my view.

I let out a sigh of relief as he uncuffed me, and as the cop's uncuffing Luke he says, “You know if you hadn’t run I’d probably just tell you that you’re not allowed in the park after dark?” I felt like such a fuckwit 'cause Shitbag and Luke both told me those exact words over and over that night. I should've listened to when cooler heads told me to chill.

As me and Luke start walking towards my car the cop yells out:

“Oh ya, Just for my report: What was Shitbag’s last name again?”

So I answered, “McDouchernose-Supreme.”

“HAH! I knew you knew it… Alright, I got it from there; have a nice night!”

Homeboy straight Jedi mind-tricked me. I couldn't fuggin' believe it. 

Shitbag ended up getting a trespassing charge 'cause I was weak in the ways of the force. He still busts my balls over it to this day.

I fuggin’ love "Shitbag", though. I gave him that pseudonym instead of something boring like "Barry" or "Tom" purely out of love for the dude. He may be the most supreme shitbag I’ve ever met, but I couldn't picture my life without him. He’s been my best friend forever; 15 years now runnin'. Through it all he’s stood with my dumb ass and gotten dragged in on lots of unnecessary bullshit (Like the time he caught a trespassing charge from the Waterworks fiasco, for example). He's more my brother than my real older brother.

(EDIT: Speaking of the legend himself, Shitbag just read the essay and he pointed out that this story only qualifies as a bad trip because I'm an idiot. I didn't get to include the amazing hours spent wandering Waterworks, but they were just the bee's knees. This trip was one of the best of our lives and all three of us still reminisce on the epic levels of fun we had between the park and the movie.)

Luke is the fuggin' man too. We've had some really wild times, and he's helped me through a whole metric fuckton, especially after my Dad passed away. He's one of the few people who genuinely cared about me that stuck around during the darkest chapter of my life.

Both these dudes are motherfuggin' legends.

Trust your friends, kiddos, especially when your friends are a supersoldiers from the future sent back in time to beat asses, get pussy, and do drugs but only pot and psychedelics cause supersoldiers from the future know the cool drugs.

Hope you had a nice trip!

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People who are taking any medications should consult their doctor about possible interactions with their meds and the condition the meds are meant to treat.

Expect your doctor to advise against using illegal drugs, because legally he has to do that, but seriously the risks he’s gonna point out aren’t anything that the average person needs to worry about. For our good friend Average Joe, the main risks are bad trips and fake LSD.

Bad trips are addressed by a set of rules in the first essay. Sniffing out fake LSD should be handled by a first-timer's tripsitter and taught to the new guy properly if he intends to continue on the trippy path.

People who are prone to psychosis should be especially careful, as there’s evidence that strongly suggests classic psychedelics can trigger psychosis in people who've got conditions that are a risk factor for that sort thing. Again, get a doctors opinion but honestly just make peace with the fact that you can't do the things safely so you probably shouldn't do them.

Psychotic episodes aren’t the only danger though. Because of how psychedelics affect serotonin levels in the brain, they can also trigger something called “serotonin syndrome” in people taking SSRI’s for depression, and I promise there’s other similar interactions with other drugs. The smart money is on checking with your doctor first if you’re taking any medication for any reason.

I didn’t bother looking into physical risks, but I know overdose isn’t a thing that’s reported from the “classic” psychedelics, namely LSD, mescaline, psilocybin, or DMT.

If you have a physical condition that tends to be a complicating factor like chronic hypertension or something of that nature you should get a doctor’s blessing.

If you’re pregnant, you should avoid using any drugs your doctor hasn’t specifically prescribed to you as a rule, and that means don’t trip till you’ve had the baby. There isn’t any proven effect on fetal development or statistical linkage to birth defects from psychedelics as far as I know, but there are some indications LSD can cause uterine contractions and induce labor prematurely.

It’s also highly likely that drugs'll get passed through breast milk, and it’s suggested you don’t breastfeed for 120 hours after using this sort of stuff.

I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but if you’re going to trip, please get someone else to take care of your kids for a day.


Alright, disclaimers in the text, clearly marked and referred to at the first opportunity in both essays. If you ignore this shit and something bad happens, I’m not responsible.

 
I’m what happens when you live by the motto ‘Live Fast, Die Young’ then you fuck up and survive.
— A Not-So-Famous Intellectual
Dave BarlettaComment