Foil turned out to be a pretty terrible way to use DMT. I think my heat gun vape would be perfect for this.
Read multiple reports that piracetam has negative effect on DMT, making it extremely frightening or interfering with it, interfering with the dissociation. Won't use next time. I didn't break through, tried multiple times and it was unremarkable, although something I need to think about. Didn't really have a bad/frightening experience, though. Standard anxiolytics likely also interfere with it to some extent.
I remember seeing a pattern almost like a giant version of the compound eye of an insect, except more colorful and smoother, a feeling like being examined by an alien, higher, being, to see whether I was acceptable. Now, I don't believe these thoughts/feelings were part of external reality, at times it was really more like narrating your own experience, or the DMT doing so.
I recalled McKenna talking about how, for him, it doesn't change how he feels, unlike other drugs. He was still functioning as the same person with the same qualities. I think I may have been able to stop the effects due to needing to work out this problem.
I'm afraid I may genuinely qualify for disorganized schizophrenia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disorganized_schizophrenia
Sluggish cognitive tempo, avolition, anhedonia, lack of interest and focus, mindfulness, disorganization and poverty of thought, and why, to the extent that they may account for them (as opposed to biological changes), I had developed some habits, habits of behavior.
The symptoms were exacerbated in that state, like a minor catatonic schizophrenic episode. Although it was a bad time to do it, wanting to go to sleep and don't drugs that were probably interfering with it. I recall thinking of how the state I was in shaped, limited, the experience of the trip. Then the thought, "We'll, what do you want us to do with you?" Followed by the trip rapidly ending. I think I was rejected, and there may have been a way of putting it, a thought, that I found very funny and made me laugh, that this was what had occurred. I may have caught a vague glimpse, a feeling, of the place they call "The dome". At another time the (DMT) thought that I was attempting the experience, but it feeling like an obstacle to sleep, amusing in a way.
Another attempt and my isolation resurfaced, how my insistence on remaining in isolation has been self-destructive. Whether, if it's required to function properly, it's worth the small time invested in it despite everything about it that has made me resistant. A memory of being in high school when during a meeting with the principal and a few others (vice or counselor and psychologist) she told me that multiple students and teachers had expressed concern to her about me. She had also told me that I was the most self-destructive person she had ever met. I've mentioned this before, she was in the army, higher ranking, and a principal in the Los Angeles area. An entire lifetime until her age and out of all the people encountered I stood out most in that remark. I felt an increase in empathy (Note: Not the same thing as compassion. "the identification with or vicarious experiencing of the feelings, thoughts, etc., of another.") and how things must have seemed from the perspective of others, how worrying and hurtful it must have been. The level of isolation I buried myself into over a decade. The thought of what it must feel like to go to bed, warm, next to someone you love, and feel their back, their warmth, against you. How I've literally pushed away every person that has attempted to become close to me.
Steppenwolf, which I found unfulfilling, yet it reminded me of the scene at the end, the magic theater, and how I wish I had been an active participant in life. Learned to have fun, to say and do the things that could have been done at moments, like how I can enjoy a perfect response to a post online when I see the opportunity, rather than being indifferent and detached. I should have had fun with the many women who showed interest in me, but aside thoughts of futility, of biological drive, and tried being kind to people at times, helpful, bring them happiness and laughter, slept with them.
“That’s how I don’t like to hear you talk. Think of that evening when you came broken from your despair and loneliness, to cross my path and be my comrade. Why was it, do you think, I was able to recognize you and understand you?”
“Why, Hermine? Tell me!”
“Because it’s the same for me as for you, because I am alone exactly as you are, because I’m as little fond of life and men and myself as you are and can put up with them as little. There are always a few such people who demand the utmost of life and yet cannot come to terms with its stupidity and crudeness.”
“Wait a bit,” she cried. “So you can’t dance? Not at all? Not even a one step? And yet you talk of the trouble you’ve taken to live? You told a fib there, my boy, and you shouldn’t do that at your age. How can you say that you’ve taken any trouble to live when you won’t even dance?”
“Well,” I confessed, “I scarcely know myself—studied, played music, read books, written books, traveled—”
“Fine views of life, you have. You have always done the difficult and complicated things and the simple ones you haven’t even learned. No time, of course. More amusing things to do. Well, thank God, I’m not your mother. But to do as you do and then say you’ve tested life to the bottom and found nothing in it is going a bit too far.”
All suicides have the responsibility of fighting against the temptation of suicide. Every one of them knows very well in some corner of his soul that suicide, though a way out, is rather a mean and shabby one, and that it is nobler and finer to be conquered by life than to fall by one's own hand.
Hesse attempted suicide and spent time in institutions, and repeatedly suffered from depression, from a young child to recurring periods throughout his life. Kafka also considered suicide and suffered the same.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franz_Kafka#PersonalityI've never danced with others.
At another point, facing the thought of whether the internal is all there is, which this broken shell is unsuitable for if all stems from it, or if there's a possibility of there being something more, a way to connect with others, beings, in some way through it, or to be taken to a place outside of yourself. If you only have yourself, and it can't give you what you want.
"I come to you as I am". Trying to "just let go" and leave myself, my problems, behind momentarily. Wanting one final experience to give me hope, to remind me of beauty. At the end my only request of DMT was for "a hug", a feeling of warmth and caring. But it felt so alien, inorganic, and cold. At a point it felt like speaking to a being through the ceiling of a realm "Do you feel lonely? Then maybe you shouldn't try to seek comfort from a chemical." I felt I shouldn't try again and needed to reflect. Then cried to sleep at the thoughts of how alone we really are.
I wish my mescaline was here. Taking it in nature could be a very good experience, something that will prepare me for a breakthrough on DMT. It would be so easy to meet someone to talk to and spend time with, to meet with a therapist, and yet I simply don't. After a heavy weight lifting session, if it triggers a large boost in mood energy like it has in the past, would probably be the best time to try again.
For some reason I keep thinking that Malice is like 250 pounds
Fat or muscular?
