One thing is for sure, I’ve done a lot of drugs. I’ve done some drugs that most people probably only know about in a mythical sense, and some people probably haven’t even heard of! In this article, I’d like to share with you all my experiences with these drugs, and which ones I like, and dislike, the most. I’ll try to order them from most enjoyable to least enjoyable, but since drugs are such complicated issues, it wont be perfect.

The list:

-LSD: Goddamn I love this drug. I could write books on this particular psychedelic, and still have things to say about it. The entire experience always astounds me. My entire perception of reality, from sight to sound to touch to taste to logic and everything in between, is twisted and molded into unfamiliar but still recognizable forms. It’s the cheapest psychedelic usually, and for the price of a gram of weed, you can have a 6-10 hour journey through your own mind. No trip is complete without music, and my god I don’t know what I would do without LSD and music in my life.

-Cannabis: Following a close second is cannabis. Cannabis is incredible because it can range from a slight little mood elevator, to a full fledged psychedelic, depending on how much you take, and the method with which you take it. It’s great enough that I can use it every day, without concern of addiction, and I never tire of it. It helps with my insomnia, and the general boredom of every day life. Truly the miracle drug.

-MDMA: Also known as ecstasy, this drug induces exactly that. I have had limited experiences with this psychoactive, but I plan on getting much more acquainted with it in the future. Everything from tactile sensations to music is enhanced, and life just seems worthwhile.

-Opiates: Sometimes I think I like opiates a little too much. These would probably be closer to the top of the list, if it weren’t for the addictive properties. They are amazing, though. I love popping some Vicodin and listening to music, going to a concert, playing music, or really doing just about anything. The one other problem I have is the motion sickness that plagues me every time I drive in a car. Oh but it’s all worth it to feel that warm glow that you only get from a nice opiate buzz.

-DMT: What a wild ride this little chemical is. I’ve done it alone, with weed, with opiates, with psychedelics, and it always seems to outdo itself. My friends and I call it a little burst of acid, and I love the occasional DMT experience. All that plus the fact that it’s a little chemistry experiment makes this drug one of my favorites.

-Nitrous: Whippits, as we call them, are a great way to pass the time. I love everything about these, and invested in a little whip cream dispenser to make things easier. Like DMT, you can apply to essentially any drug, and have a multiplied experience. It has a little minute long psychedelic experience, with ego death almost a certainty. Just as wonderful a drug as I could ask for. The only thing that puts it lower on the list is the addiction, cost, and headaches from extended use.

-DXM: This drug is my fall-back. If I can’t get a hold of any “real” psychedelics, and I’m feeling the urge to trip, it’s always nice to run up to the CVS and pick up a couple bottles of the ‘tussin. I’ve spent many a mile robo–walking around my neighborhood/parks, and it’s always fun to experience the slight visuals and strange feelings of a robo–trip.

-Adderall: This drug is alright, on occasion. The hyper-focus effect, along with the desire to “get shit done” makes this a useful drug more than a fun one. The most fun I’ve had on adderall was playing Rock Band for about 3 hours, constantly owning the expert songs. Incidentally, that was also the last time I’ve played Rock Band…

-Alcohol: This is a pretty “meh” drug for me. Some people think alcohol is just the bees knees, but I really don’t get it. It’s alright if there’s absolutely nothing else to do, but really it just isn’t that fun. I’ve never had a hangover, either, and if I did I would probably never use it. However, it does remove all social inhibitions, and it makes everything hilarious. It does have its uses. Not beer, though. Beer can suck a dick.

-Psilocybe mushrooms: I’ve had a couple experiences with shrooms, but they were nothing spectacular. The experience was fairly uncomfortable both times, with fairly unspectacular visuals. I plan on trying them again, so I’ll save my final judgement till then.

-Salvia: This drug can either be the most enlightening, or the most frightening. It’s like a five minute dream state that feels like a lifetime. I’ve had good experiences, bad experiences, and just plain weird experiences. I’m usually down to do some salvia, but it’s just such an unpredictable drug, it’s getting stuck near the bottom of my list.

-Benzodiazepines: Xanax or Valiums, pick your poison. I have no real issue with them, they just bore me. It’s like fast forwarding through life, and I want to savor every second I have conscious on this planet. I suppose some of the effects are somewhat desirable; they make me feel pretty good, and music and food are generally more enjoyable, but they make me feel fairly…dumb. That plus the fast forward effect make these a very rare use for me. I’ll usually turn down the offer of benzos unless for some reason I really feel compelled.

-Cocaine: Holy shit I have discovered a new “least favorite” drug. I first tried cocaine a few days ago, and man did it suck. Let me walk you through what happened… First, I snort the coke  (obviously), which was actually the best part. It felt all cold and soft, and cleared my sinuses right out! So I chilled out for a minute, waiting for the effects to take place. About 3 minutes in, I start feeling really anxious, and since we were doing it in a bathroom, I thought I was getting a bit claustrophobic, which happens to me sometimes on drugs. So I go outside where we were hanging out, and sit on the tailgate of my friend’s truck. Immediately I start feeling really light-headed. My hearing goes really muffled and distorts, and my vision becomes “pixelated” and blurry. On top of all this, I start sweating fucking bullets (I hardly sweat at all even if I’m exercising outside in the 100˚ Texas summer). My friend notices something is up and asks me if I need to go inside. I do, and after sitting in front of a fan for 5 minutes, I feel fine. The effects of the coke were really uncharacteristic, too. I was very relaxed, and felt slowed down. All in all, something I would never do again.

Well, I think that about sums up my list. Drugs have done some amazing things for me over the years, and I wouldn’t trade anything for the experiences I’ve had (figuratively, if someone offered me a million dollars you can damn well bet you’d never see my anecdotes on this site again!). Feel free to comment on experiences you’ve had, or how much you think my experiences suck!

-Lotus

At 5:40 PM, I ingested 2.9 grams of slightly damp psilocybin mushrooms at a friend’s residence. Shortly after consuming the magical fungus, my friends and I made our leave and walked back to my own residence at a brisk pace. The air was not warm, and this coupled with my fast walking caused me not to feel the initial come-up. After a quarter-hour of travel we arrive at our destination and I am coming up hard. I sit down at my computer and initiate play of the song Sheep by Pink Floyd. I’m tripping hard at this point, and some serious visuals are manifesting in front of my open eyes.

Between approximately 6 and 7 PM, I had a very fun and entertaining time listening to music, chatting, smoking cannabis and thinking. Earlier in the night, my friend N, who is also tripping shrooms, decided with me that we should go to a particular chain retail electronics store. It’s probably about 6:45 PM now, and driving is absolutely out of the question for me. My normal cognitive state is out on vacation, and decision-making is not easy. With some difficulty, I reintroduce the idea of going to the aforementioned store. Our group at this point comprised the following: myself and N (both tripping), and three others (stoned). Only one of the stoned individuals was in possession of a properly-sized-and-fueled automobile, so there wasn’t much decision-making necessary. As we’re about to leave, our would-be driver, L, mentions off-handedly that he’s not a great driver. I assumed he was being facetious, but the next hour would prove me very, very wrong.

After walking to where L had parked, I caught the first glimpse of our ride. It was a late ’80s Honda sedan. Automatic seatbelts. No real safety features to speak of. I shrug off my initial uneasiness as psychedelia-inspired paranoia and board the car. My faculties were still just present enough for me to avoid riding “bitch.” I buckle my seatbelt as our driver gripes about his broken power steering. Uh oh. Turning from the parking lot onto the street, another of my friends tells me that our driver, L, is something of a joker. This was not what I needed to hear, but I sat tight and rationalized my own safety. After all, these guys get stoned and drive around all the time without problems. What could go wrong? What could go wrong, indeed. As we head toward the freeway, we encounter some road work. It’s dark now, so there’s a huge light tower providing illumination. This freaks our driver out and it finally clicks in my head that everyone else in the car is very, very stoned. We get to the freeway entrance ramp. Entering the freeway is not usually very memorable, but the few seconds we spent doing so are indelibly recorded in my memory. Our driver did not realize that this entrance required us to merge onto the freeway, and we almost hit the retaining wall before being let on. I’m peaking on the shrooms at this point, but my endocrine system went into overdrive and I was SLAMMED into reality. We take the next exit, and L has great difficulty picking a lane. I point out the correct one and we eventually get to the store, but not before driving poorly in front of a cop and narrowly avoiding a pull-over.

I find it impossible to enjoy myself in the store, because in the back of my mind I know that the drive back is going to be intensely unpleasant. I don’t buy anything, but N buys 2 video games. We leave after this. I had to navigate. Various mishaps on the way back included hitting a curb at speed, tons of weaving, almost turning into oncoming traffic, etc. After reading what I’ve just written, I now realize that there’s no way I can possibly convey the full extent of the terror I felt while riding in this car. Just know that when we returned to my residence, I felt an intense euphoria like none other. Waves of relief flooded through me. The rest of the trip consisted of me listening to music, playing guitar and watching N play video games. I also cooked some bacon, which was tasty. Ultimately, though, no possible activity can compare to almost dying.

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One of the greatest things about weed that I’m sure all smokers can attest to is how it makes almost every activity better in some way. From the sedentary lifestyle of sitting in front of the TV or computer screen to getting outside and exercising, everything just seems better. And, to most of us, we can do these things without much sacrifice to skill level or reflexes. 

So, with this in mind, I decided to combine my two loves: marijuana and motocross. To protect my identity, I won’t release the information about my bike. But know that I’m an intermediate level rider (to the layman, this is, in MX racing class terms, the level just under pro or expert) who has over ten years of riding and racing experience under his belt. My bike is a finely tuned race machine, and under inexperienced hands it has the capability to cause serious harm.

The weed used was some fine dank. I remember it clearly, because you don’t come across blueberry often. The high was strong, but pretty energetic, so I was confident that I would have the motivation to ride. I wasn’t so sure how my competence on the bike would fair, but I was hoping for an exciting time.

Before I go on, I would like to mention that, contrary to popular belief, motocross is a very physically and mentally demanding sport. Many are under the impression that you just sit down, twist the throttle, and the bike does the rest for you. We aren’t on a highway, and we aren’t riding Harleys. Motocross is compared to soccer in terms of physical exhaustion, and is as mentally demanding, or more so, than F1 racing. With my rant out of the way, let’s continue.

I arrived around mid-day, probably about 11:30 am. I immediately pulled out my pipe and smoked an entire bowl of the tasty blueberry. I waited a few minutes for it to take full effect, and suited up in the mean time. Getting on the bike, my heart was racing. I had done this a thousand times, but the blueberry was making me very paranoid and anxious. When I started the bike, however, all those anxious thoughts instantly reversed.

I was no longer nervous, but I had tons of energy. I started to ride around the track slowly, partly to warm up myself and my bike for the ride, and also to check out the track, so nothing was a surprise. I noticed that it was a perfect day. The sky was clear, with a few happy, white clouds up in the sky. It was getting very hot, something I strangely adore. I’m going to guess that it was probably about 94˚ at this point. 

The deep sound of my exhaust was crisp and throaty. My bike was warmed up, and I was ready to go. I started to go at racing speed, and the movements came naturally. I felt very in tune with the bike, and the experience was bettered by the weed. I didn’t feel distracted or impaired whatsoever, though I have no lap times to confirm this. 

Every lean into a corner felt to be in slow motion. I could micromanage my riding with incredible ease. I don’t know if this actually improved my speed, but it did make me ride smoother, which is a definite plus. I was looking forward to the jumps, knowing how well everything else was going. Coming up to the first big one, I was more nervous than usual, and I hesitated slightly on the throttle. This wasn’t a problem, however; as when I finally grew some balls, I was able to add enough speed to clear it with ease.

Something I think about quite often while high is how it would feel to fly. Well I suppose it would take a hang glider to actually achieve this sort of idea, but I did get pretty close while riding. Much like the corners were in slow motion, so were the jumps. I had a great feeling of weightlessness, but I was also very tight in the air. When in the air you want to be as loose as possible, so you can correct any effects the wind, or anything else might have on you. It was difficult to loosen up, so I would say the weed definitely impaired that aspect of riding. 

Yes, I was feeling good, and riding somewhere around average. The experiment was coming along quite nicely, but, sadly, it seems all good things must come to an end. As the lap progressed, and my adrenaline was growing, I could feel the weed high slipping away. By halfway through only the second lap, it was completely gone. 

So what’s my final verdict? Marijuana and motocross, though great separately, and alliterating quite nicely together, just can’t be mixed. I believe that a less sativa dominant strain, which might impair my physical abilities, could be very dangerous. Not being able to loosen myself up in the air is enough of a problem that if I couldn’t fix it, I wouldn’t want to ride high very often even if I could. 

I’d give riding while high a 5/10. If you’re a competent motocrosser, you should do it, but probably just once. In such a high risk environment as a motocross track, it’s just irresponsible to add extra obstacles. That said, I intend to try riding on LSD sometime in the future, so maybe that will fare some intriguing results.

—Lotus

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Leave any comments you may have below.

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Experience Report: 10/25/08

Time of consumption: 10:30 PM

Substance consumed: two “ecstasy” pills

• red, tightly packed with pink spots
• Glock pistol logo
• indented edge at top
• no smell/taste (swallowed)

I purchased three hits of ecstasy a few months ago and had tried one pill back then.  It was different from these two… the first one was a blue ribbon.  The other two were red pills with pink spots packed tightly in there.  The front was outlined by an indented ring around the pill, and it was emblazoned with the indentation of a Glock pistol.

After feeling very little to no effects from the first attempt a few months earlier, I consumed both hits of ecstasy this time.  I had also smoked cannabis about 30 minutes prior to consuming the pills and a cigarillo about an hour prior.  Both pills were swallowed at about 10:30 PM.  Within 30 minutes of swallowing the pills, my heart rate seemed to increase and I began to feel stimulated.  We then headed to a party with seven kinds of drinks…

At the party, the effects started to kick in, making my vision slightly more intense and producing a “trippy” feeling in my body.  I felt similar to when I tripped on acid, as everything seemed a little distorted and out of proportion, and my body felt very awkward.  However, my skin felt very much alive, and the sense of touch seemed somewhat enhanced.  The mental effects of the drug became immediately evident in the way they influenced my speech patterns and sociability.  When combined with the alcohol I was drinking, the ecstasy gave me a much increased ability and desire to communicate with people, especially girls.  Conversation flowed easily, and everything seemed infinitely interesting.  I found myself telling people things which would have never come out sober.

Within the hour, I began to feel more and more lightheaded, with waves of sensation washing down from my head to my spine and out to my body.  I reached a plateau at this level of sensations and had a great time at the party.  The effects at this point are difficult to describe—it was as if all my skin doubled in its sensitivity to touch and my body became seemingly fluid.  Dancing seemed effortless as I flowed with the beats.  These effects continued throughout the night, although they seemed to shift toward a more speedy feeling later into the night.

About four hours after consuming the ecstasy, we left the party and headed to campus.  There we smoked two bowls of cannabis and chilled with the guitar on the balcony.  I ended up staying on the balcony until about 5:00 AM and am still awake at present (7:20 AM).  Despite smoking numerous bowls of cannabis, I cannot seem to calm my heart rate down enough to fall asleep.  I suspect that there is an adulterant added to this ecstasy in addition to MDMA… possibly methamphetamine or another strong stimulant.

NOTE: Upon later observation, meth or another strong stimulant was definitely an adulterant.  Depressed hangover feelings took over the following day, but the speedy feeling was still somewhat present.  Full recovery didn’t occur until two days later.

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Leave your thoughts on this trip report by commenting below.

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For years people have used psychedelic drugs to get in touch with their spiritual side, even to try to meet God. This has become less prevalent in our modern world as people have become less religious, less spiritual and more inclined to get ‘fucked up.’ Unfortunately for these people, strong psychedelics can carry them into places they never thought existed, and they can meet God even if they weren’t intending to, or ready for it. This is the story of how I spiritually met God, died, learned the meaning of life and achieved nirvana, all while putting me and my friends’ lives in real mortal danger.

It was a perfectly planned day. Our plan was to travel to the lake, trip there during the sunset, travel back to my friend’s apartment, and complete our trips there. We had one person staying sober, two only smoking weed, and two acid-trippers. At sometime around 3 pm, my friend, who we’ll call Steve, and I dropped our 3 hits and 2 1/2 hits, respectively. I usually take my hits with a decent time between each, to allow for a slower come up. This time, however, I took all 2.5 at once (to avoid missing out on anything at the lake), and the come up was very anxious for me.

We started on the 45 minute journey out to the lake at about 30 minutes into the trip. Tom was driving, with me in the passenger seat, as I had the directions. Unfortunately, I had left the directions at the apartment, a folly we didn’t realize till about 15 minutes into the drive. Fortunately, I pretty much remembered the way, and after a short drive in the wrong direction, we were back on track. Since things were going so well, we decided to stop by an HEB (Texas grocery store), to grab a few drinks along the way. This turned out to be huge mistake number one.

It was a Friday afternoon, so naturally the store was packed with rich lake house owners buying their food for the week. This meant a place packed with middle aged parents and young children, or to the acid-tripper, nearly the last person you want to see. I was walking with Tom, trying to find some snacks when I spotted the epitome of comedy, a package of Rainbow Goldfish. I burst out laughing at the snack–food, all while housewives and their preschoolers looked on, confused. Tom was embarrassed and nervous so I offered to go out to the car. Disregarding any sense of courtesy in walking through a busy store, I made a bee–line for the exit.

I met up with my fellow tripper, Steve, and we both went out to my car, talking about how frightening and stressful it was inside the HEB. We hopped back in the car and headed off toward the lake. This wound up being huge mistake number two. We got to the lake just fine, and found a nice, secluded spot by a small drop off into the water. It was the most beautiful place in the world.

There was a big oak tree on the edge of the small drop into the water, with a bench under the shade. The water was a deep shade of blue, and the leaves on the tree and grass around the area was green and flourishing. It was the type of place people paid millions of dollars to live on, just on the other side. I had packed a guitar, colored pencils, paper, and my computer to keep me entertained but I soon realized I would need nothing but the sheer beauty of nature to occupy my mind.

We walked around for a while, enjoying the park, and all was well. Tom and Joe, who were the weed smokers, went off to smoke their couple joints, while the rest of us sat around joking about Africa, the awesomeness of the park and other such matters. When they got back, huge mistake number three was made. Tom suggested we go on a hike up the hill. It may seem clichéd, but this was probably the worst mistake of my life.

Upon the hike up the hill we encountered such fun things as:

• a guy shooting a BB gun
• an empty heroin bottle
• a barbed wire fence

Now, these alone may have been tolerable, but put together it was too much for my poor tripping brain to handle. On top of my already spinning head, we walked back to the car to see a black Crown Victoria with black police rims and a spotlight, parked right behind my car.

Steve went to retrieve the guitar and other tripping toys, while my sober friend, Nick, and I, got into the car. This was a poor decision on Nick’s part as all he heard for the next 15 minutes was “Is it legal to be here?” This crippling thought loop was halted by Nick’s happy go lucky attitude that rubbed off on me a bit, only to return in full force a few seconds later. I said that horrible sentence, with some slight variations, so many times, in fact, that my friends were compelled to make a note to me (which turned out to be a hilarious video on Nick’s camera) that said, “Dear [Lotus], it is legal to be here. It is public. -Tom, the note PS-No, really, it’s legal to be in a public park.” Yes, the note’s name was Tom. The seriousness with which I approached that note, however, showed that to me it was no joke. For the next few minutes everyone had grown very tired of my conversation, so they sat me down in front of the water.

Note in hand, I created quite an interesting reality for myself. As any tripper undoubtedly knows, visuals and states of mind are nearly impossible to describe. I will try the best I can. Looking at the sunset, all the colors were inverted. The sun was a beautiful shade of deep purple, the clouds were a heavenly gray, the sky was going through all colors of the rainbow at any given time, and the water was metallic looking and made up completely of patterns. I could hear my friends talking, as they were only a few feet away, and imagined them conversing with a police officer. After 10 minutes of them arguing with the cop I decided I should put an end to it and get everyone to leave.

“Come on guys let’s just go!” I shouted, walking to the car. I opened the passenger door and hopped inside. This was the final huge mistake of the night. Nick, as the sober person, hopped into the driver’s seat and everyone else started packing things into the trunk. He tried to talk me down from the acid but by this point I had gone way too far.

We took off down the road out of the park, and were cruising along quite nicely, when I started trying to grab at the steering wheel. Nick, realizing what I was trying to do, quickly swatted my hand away. After a few times of this I noticed my radar detector. The lettering on it looked completely alien to me, and it scared me. My reaction to this, of course, was to grab the thing and slam it into the side of my car. My next idea was to stop the car, so I could get away from everything.

I reached over, at about 45 mph, mind you, and slammed the car into park. Fortunately, my car has the handy feature that puts it into neutral instead of park when it knows you’re moving, so my brand new transmission that I had just installed was not destroyed. After we had come to a stop, I got out of the car and collapsed into the ditch on the side of the road.

I was put back in the car in the middle of the back seat, between Tom and Joe, where I was to spend the rest of the drive home. As soon as I was in the back seat I could feel death coming near. Then God began talking to me. It wasn’t so much that I was hearing a voice in my head, it was more of just an understanding that I was speaking with the creator of the universe, and I knew what it wanted to say. If I could describe God visually, I would say he is an infinite pattern of everything in the known and unknown universe.

It started slow, with a rising feeling of anxiety, desperation and despair. I knew that if I didn’t find out what life meant, I wouldn’t be able to stop the cycle. At first I tried going against it; naming things I was familiar with and that made me happy. This worked terribly, however, and accomplished nothing. During these cycles I knew that this feeling is what it’s like to die. My mind was racing, trying to figure out what the trip wanted me to do and I finally realized it wanted me to accept death.

I worked very hard for two or three cycles, finally realizing my fate. Unfortunately, just when I thought the cycles were done, a new one started. I was desperate, each cycle lasted the same amount of time, and I couldn’t stand to go through any more. I started trying to say things to make it stop the cycles. This didn’t appease God, however, and it just made the cycles stronger.

Finally, I realized what it had wanted me to all along. Regardless of any previously conceived notion of Christianity, I now knew that when I died I would revert back to birth, completely forgetting everything I knew now, and I would just repeat the process all over again. With this realization, all my mental anxiety disappeared, and I truly accepted death.

I looked forward out of the car’s windshield, and saw in front of me a curve in the road, with a cliff at the end. I watched Nick accelerate to 100 miles per hour, with no intention of slowing for the curve. As the car left the ground my vision went completely white and I remember very little after this.

In Tom’s apartment, I sat for awhile completely silent, asking randomly for my hat and hoodie, presumably to see if they were left behind or not. After the trip, I was in a sort of daze for the rest of the night. I spent a couple hours with Tom, making a trip to McDonald’s and talking to him for a while, but my thoughts were completely on the trip. As a matter of fact, for at least a few weeks after I was very…strange. For example, I completely lost my temper and screamed at Tom later on for not wanting to pick up a pizza.

What did I learn from this experience? I wish I could say I learned not to trip at the lake, but two months later I was tripping at a different lake (successfully). I wish I could give some advice to future trippers to avoid this experience, but all in all I’m glad it happened. It was the most intense experience of my life, and I know that I’ll never forget it. I wish it could have happened in the safety of someone’s house, but it couldn’t have. What started it was the unfamiliar, frightening setting of the lake.

I suppose the best advice I could possibly give to a tripper is, accept what is happening (though that itself may be impossible when you don’t even know what is happening) and you’ll probably be a better psychonaut for it in the end.

Happy tripping,

Lotus

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