the GVG DIARIES
About 6 months ago my GVG came in the mail and I shifted from changa in a water bubbler back to freebase. I started low, as I had had several harrowing journeys and was wary of the alleged efficiency of this new device, so I steeled myself to start up slowly, working from 5mg up through to 25mg + breakthrough doses. Still not there yet, but I decided to share some of my more interesting trips on the way up. I will post here as more follow.
THE TRIPS
11mg that must have been (grossly) mismeasured – they came on like a ballistic obliterator, a swarm of swirling candy-green ladybugs with canines, vortexing to a point of infinite absence, a singing, singeing laughter lapping at my senses and rolling 5.1 pollyrolly over the vestiges of my inward screaming self. Just shy of breaking through, I wallowed in that no man’s land of ALMOST, with all the terror G-force of a success and none of the freefall rewards…Then the bugs popped unladylike, and the flowing stream of lustrous colour banded back and folded into the closed-eye grey of tryptamine-less lids and I was back, safe from the greenbacked bugs, but safe - safe to open these be-terrored orbs…? I cracked my eyes open and the darkened room swayed and jiggered and flitted in and out of transmission before the picture settled and the JBArk broadcast resumed. The room was now the room. And I was I again.
I WILL NOW MEASURE AND REMEASURE AND MEASURE AGAIN.
5mg – measured and remeasured (and measured yet again!), with full knowledge that my scale - reminding me of the raw irony of numbers - is roughly +/- 5 (!!): a light lattice of swirly squirrely furlies unfolding under the veil of grey, an uninterrupted and distracting layer of under-eyelid not-black that, had it a voice, would have chuckled out – “ya gotta be kiddin’ kid, REALLY – 5??!! 5 measly measlegrams and you are really sittin’ there waitin’ for the grey to just peel away and play and fray to show the way?” : The sound of my mind laughing at itself laughing, laughing itself at my self and minding itself laughing at itself…
14mg measured, remeasured, vaped on the gallery of my chalet at magic hour - the pearly, luminescent, aquamarine sky dipping through metal to blackness and back again, lake a-shimmer with the last breaths of day. I vowed to keep my eyes open, but after the vibrating trees compelled me in a tone that permitted no refusal, I veiled the light orbs and sank… and sank…:
unfolding lattices of cartoon eyes and their creature-owners hurtling through manifestation after manifestation, manifesting and muting faster than perception, rolling and folding in unto themselves and over each other like a visual cackle, a laughter of images succeeding images and layering others that were images and not-images and vibrations and frequencies and some illegible invisible ciphering… then I perceived a layer beneath this 2D cartoon carnage – a layer of verisimilitude that began to take form and take precedence over the twisted looneytunes light show – I was looking down at a table from above, at which were seated at least four individuals, moving and sliding primary coloured geometric sheets and two dimensional objects over the table’s surface, like some sort of interdimensional game, often gazing up at me, - though their features I could not distinguish, their faces skin-veiled and featureless ovals. The objects and the manipulating of them on the table was a language, and they were trying to communicate something, and to communicate whatever it was they needed to convey - I felt and knew - swiftly and desperately. They sensed, as I did, the short time we had to breach the chasm of gaping incomprehension, and they furiously arranged, rearranged and manipulated the forms on the table with mounting frustration until it all began to fade: the shapes and the living figures manipulating them were replaced by a random iridescent photon-mirror circus, as this scene had previously been transposed by the looneytune lights and by the convoluting shapeshifting eyeballhornmouthteethappendage creatures that were imagesoundtouchsmelltaste to my inward-growing and cross-indexed senses. The light show burgeoned and cackled on, then faded into a web of translucent multicoloured finery, pulsing afront a drop of pitch with electric frequencies heard, but with the inward hearing ear, reminding me in a shrill scream that I shall never, ever know the lumi-secrets of the cutout geo-lexi-table… Then my eyes were opened and the trees danced their fractal-boogie in silhouette cutout against the blue neon-fluorescence of the gradient sky.
18mg (on top of 30g caapi and 10g chacruna tea that proved little effective) Thrust into a gear-plasma vista of tubular drippings and iridescent sparkle and spackle, I perceive through a thin veiled film: children and Children and CHILDREN – everywhere, flowing and twisting with the mecha-flow, spinning and writhing and streaming in and out and up and down the flowing tubes of the mechaflowPARK, babies and toddlers and a black curled four year old smiling mulatto boy and a girl – seven or eight years old, blond, in a multicolored tank top - who slipped through the film as she rode inside a twisty tuby fun-portal squirming by in the forefront of my visual field. She slid then popped out and danced and, all the while, like all the other squirmy-tubescent child-pipes, she seemed to be beckoning, imploring me to come further, or - was it a warning perhaps, a command to stay away? There was fear present, I won’t deny it; but the girl seemed playful, yet oddly concerned for me. Even the be-filmed baby faces flitting by through the mechaflow exhibited concern - or was it a desperate invitation? They giggled as only clowns can then slowly faded, the gearplasmaMechaflowPARK fading equally. The afterglow was glorious. Peaceful. Serene. Open-eyed. I looked out the window but was distracted by a shifting in the blinds that were already almost cartoonish in their wood-orange halo: a thin strip of undulating colours stuck out from under each slat. I concentrated and was able to initiate a deeper shift - a shift in what, I am unsure… but a thin film slid away from the blinds as I willed it, an oilslick sparkling skin peeling back, separating the blinds I know from the blinds AS THEY ARE. It was temporary, and my will seemed insufficient to either sustain or deepen the impression. Then a quick slip back, and the blinds were blinds and I was blind again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
That’s it so far. Some recurring motifs:
Vortices, cartoon Bug beings, children, tubes, glyphs… and fear, of course. :twisted:
Thanks for reading,
JBArk
EDIT: SCROLL DOWN FOR VAGINAS
About 6 months ago my GVG came in the mail and I shifted from changa in a water bubbler back to freebase. I started low, as I had had several harrowing journeys and was wary of the alleged efficiency of this new device, so I steeled myself to start up slowly, working from 5mg up through to 25mg + breakthrough doses. Still not there yet, but I decided to share some of my more interesting trips on the way up. I will post here as more follow.
THE TRIPS
11mg that must have been (grossly) mismeasured – they came on like a ballistic obliterator, a swarm of swirling candy-green ladybugs with canines, vortexing to a point of infinite absence, a singing, singeing laughter lapping at my senses and rolling 5.1 pollyrolly over the vestiges of my inward screaming self. Just shy of breaking through, I wallowed in that no man’s land of ALMOST, with all the terror G-force of a success and none of the freefall rewards…Then the bugs popped unladylike, and the flowing stream of lustrous colour banded back and folded into the closed-eye grey of tryptamine-less lids and I was back, safe from the greenbacked bugs, but safe - safe to open these be-terrored orbs…? I cracked my eyes open and the darkened room swayed and jiggered and flitted in and out of transmission before the picture settled and the JBArk broadcast resumed. The room was now the room. And I was I again.
I WILL NOW MEASURE AND REMEASURE AND MEASURE AGAIN.
5mg – measured and remeasured (and measured yet again!), with full knowledge that my scale - reminding me of the raw irony of numbers - is roughly +/- 5 (!!): a light lattice of swirly squirrely furlies unfolding under the veil of grey, an uninterrupted and distracting layer of under-eyelid not-black that, had it a voice, would have chuckled out – “ya gotta be kiddin’ kid, REALLY – 5??!! 5 measly measlegrams and you are really sittin’ there waitin’ for the grey to just peel away and play and fray to show the way?” : The sound of my mind laughing at itself laughing, laughing itself at my self and minding itself laughing at itself…
14mg measured, remeasured, vaped on the gallery of my chalet at magic hour - the pearly, luminescent, aquamarine sky dipping through metal to blackness and back again, lake a-shimmer with the last breaths of day. I vowed to keep my eyes open, but after the vibrating trees compelled me in a tone that permitted no refusal, I veiled the light orbs and sank… and sank…:
unfolding lattices of cartoon eyes and their creature-owners hurtling through manifestation after manifestation, manifesting and muting faster than perception, rolling and folding in unto themselves and over each other like a visual cackle, a laughter of images succeeding images and layering others that were images and not-images and vibrations and frequencies and some illegible invisible ciphering… then I perceived a layer beneath this 2D cartoon carnage – a layer of verisimilitude that began to take form and take precedence over the twisted looneytunes light show – I was looking down at a table from above, at which were seated at least four individuals, moving and sliding primary coloured geometric sheets and two dimensional objects over the table’s surface, like some sort of interdimensional game, often gazing up at me, - though their features I could not distinguish, their faces skin-veiled and featureless ovals. The objects and the manipulating of them on the table was a language, and they were trying to communicate something, and to communicate whatever it was they needed to convey - I felt and knew - swiftly and desperately. They sensed, as I did, the short time we had to breach the chasm of gaping incomprehension, and they furiously arranged, rearranged and manipulated the forms on the table with mounting frustration until it all began to fade: the shapes and the living figures manipulating them were replaced by a random iridescent photon-mirror circus, as this scene had previously been transposed by the looneytune lights and by the convoluting shapeshifting eyeballhornmouthteethappendage creatures that were imagesoundtouchsmelltaste to my inward-growing and cross-indexed senses. The light show burgeoned and cackled on, then faded into a web of translucent multicoloured finery, pulsing afront a drop of pitch with electric frequencies heard, but with the inward hearing ear, reminding me in a shrill scream that I shall never, ever know the lumi-secrets of the cutout geo-lexi-table… Then my eyes were opened and the trees danced their fractal-boogie in silhouette cutout against the blue neon-fluorescence of the gradient sky.
18mg (on top of 30g caapi and 10g chacruna tea that proved little effective) Thrust into a gear-plasma vista of tubular drippings and iridescent sparkle and spackle, I perceive through a thin veiled film: children and Children and CHILDREN – everywhere, flowing and twisting with the mecha-flow, spinning and writhing and streaming in and out and up and down the flowing tubes of the mechaflowPARK, babies and toddlers and a black curled four year old smiling mulatto boy and a girl – seven or eight years old, blond, in a multicolored tank top - who slipped through the film as she rode inside a twisty tuby fun-portal squirming by in the forefront of my visual field. She slid then popped out and danced and, all the while, like all the other squirmy-tubescent child-pipes, she seemed to be beckoning, imploring me to come further, or - was it a warning perhaps, a command to stay away? There was fear present, I won’t deny it; but the girl seemed playful, yet oddly concerned for me. Even the be-filmed baby faces flitting by through the mechaflow exhibited concern - or was it a desperate invitation? They giggled as only clowns can then slowly faded, the gearplasmaMechaflowPARK fading equally. The afterglow was glorious. Peaceful. Serene. Open-eyed. I looked out the window but was distracted by a shifting in the blinds that were already almost cartoonish in their wood-orange halo: a thin strip of undulating colours stuck out from under each slat. I concentrated and was able to initiate a deeper shift - a shift in what, I am unsure… but a thin film slid away from the blinds as I willed it, an oilslick sparkling skin peeling back, separating the blinds I know from the blinds AS THEY ARE. It was temporary, and my will seemed insufficient to either sustain or deepen the impression. Then a quick slip back, and the blinds were blinds and I was blind again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
That’s it so far. Some recurring motifs:
Vortices, cartoon Bug beings, children, tubes, glyphs… and fear, of course. :twisted:
Thanks for reading,
JBArk
EDIT: SCROLL DOWN FOR VAGINAS
