camakazi
RUN DMT
So a few of us got together for one of our regular Changa evenings on Saturday. I brought a nice batch of stuff I had made a couple nights before, my mate had some of his left and we had everything we needed to knock up even more.
So it began... a nice playlist was sorted. I wanted to roll around on the floor, one of us took the couch, one took the chair. The pile of changa's there boys... dig in!
Time went out the window, so I dont know how long the pile lasted for (seemed ages), but we had ran out and decided to have a quick munch while I made another lot.
MORE CHANGA was inevitably smoked that night
. One of my friends had crashed out and we decided to share a changa joint before calling it a night ourselves.
The following was just downright bizzare haha. The joints are wierd because you dont expect what it does to you and just smoke away like it was a normal one or a roll up, plus they taste amazing. A few draws each and passing it. Normaly I cant keep my eyes open during a DMT or changa trip, so only catch glimpses of how crazy distorted reality gets. Distorted" is an understatement... Oblitorated seems more descriptive.
I took my pass after ignighting this beast of a smoke, lay back, closed my eyes and entered the magical world. I could hear something in the distance, echoes. Opened my eyes to a jigsaw puzzle that assembled its self into the livingroom I recognised at astonishing speeds. My mate was waving an olimpic torch infront of my face... (the joint) I kind of sat up and just started smoking away on this thing, every puff adding a layer of intensity onto the trip. Trying to pass it back and forth became more and more difficult. Arms were stretching for miles, fingers splaying into tentecles, some sort of time lapse made movements jump like a glitchy camcorder, which in turn made it damn near impossible to predict where the joint was. Faces warped and sometimes looked like they'd been painted up as clowns, curtains transformed into flowing waterfalls (amazing!)... all the while I struggled to sit there and keep my eyes opened and smoke more of it.
Too intense for him... "off to bed you pop". I'm looking a single board of flooring stretching off into the distance. The room is pulsating, breathing to the point I'm convinced that its alive. A dream catcher starts spinning... i feel dizzy and the next thing I remember is waking up the following afternoon on the floor haha.
Oh how I love changa evening
peace!
So it began... a nice playlist was sorted. I wanted to roll around on the floor, one of us took the couch, one took the chair. The pile of changa's there boys... dig in!
Time went out the window, so I dont know how long the pile lasted for (seemed ages), but we had ran out and decided to have a quick munch while I made another lot.
MORE CHANGA was inevitably smoked that night
. One of my friends had crashed out and we decided to share a changa joint before calling it a night ourselves. The following was just downright bizzare haha. The joints are wierd because you dont expect what it does to you and just smoke away like it was a normal one or a roll up, plus they taste amazing
. A few draws each and passing it. Normaly I cant keep my eyes open during a DMT or changa trip, so only catch glimpses of how crazy distorted reality gets. Distorted" is an understatement... Oblitorated seems more descriptive.I took my pass after ignighting this beast of a smoke, lay back, closed my eyes and entered the magical world. I could hear something in the distance, echoes. Opened my eyes to a jigsaw puzzle that assembled its self into the livingroom I recognised at astonishing speeds. My mate was waving an olimpic torch infront of my face... (the joint) I kind of sat up and just started smoking away on this thing, every puff adding a layer of intensity onto the trip. Trying to pass it back and forth became more and more difficult. Arms were stretching for miles, fingers splaying into tentecles, some sort of time lapse made movements jump like a glitchy camcorder, which in turn made it damn near impossible to predict where the joint was. Faces warped and sometimes looked like they'd been painted up as clowns, curtains transformed into flowing waterfalls (amazing!)... all the while I struggled to sit there and keep my eyes opened and smoke more of it.
Too intense for him... "off to bed you pop". I'm looking a single board of flooring stretching off into the distance. The room is pulsating, breathing to the point I'm convinced that its alive. A dream catcher starts spinning... i feel dizzy and the next thing I remember is waking up the following afternoon on the floor haha.
Oh how I love changa evening
peace!
