Warpaint

[amor_fati]

SWIM had just finished a heptane crystallization of just over 300mg freebase, and SWIM had been waiting all through the holiday to get a chance to use this properly. So by the time Saturday rolled around, though he had spent every other day on psilocybe (including the night prior), he felt ready. SWIM had a friend over, and they started out the night watching "Fando y Lis" while SWIM finished up fan drying his crystals. About halfway through the film, SWIM left the video running but put on a favorite tape of his that he hadn't quite explored while smoking.

They predosed with sublingual THH by rubbing it under the tongue with an index finger. SWIM accidentally poured a bit much though (he can't wait to try a tincture instead, when he has the funds). The night progressed fairly normally for this sort of usage, as they were only putting about 30mg on the bowl (w/ copper mesh, in a bubbler) at a time, hitting it with a bic, passing between hits, then finishing it off with a torch. SWIM continued to play psychedelic dj through the night with some animal collective and night recordings from Bali, until he instantly noticed the THH wear off, and things started getting a little bubbly and alien. SWIM re-dosed himself and his friend with THH and added Robedoor and Pocahaunted to the playlist.

The Robedoor song (Indo Shadow) was starting when the bowl had been finished, and SWIM loaded up a ~66mg crystal. SWIM decided to hit this one directly with the torch. He got an incredibly thick dose, as he eventually coughed (he usually doesn't). The wails, drone and drums of the song cut deep into his mind, striking a vein containing one of his most primal of memories, and he felt his old marine blood rushing forth in torrent so powerful he felt himself explode. At this point he was fairly incapacitated and engulfed in this experience to the point of feeling the terror of death, but then he gathered his strength. At some point, the music transitioned to Pocahaunted (Warpaint), and he felt himself being reborn: He felt his bones and muscles as machines (not like metal machines, but as the machines they are), he felt his armor encasing and empowering him (the same armor he's felt on all of his deepest trips with LSD or certain combinations of subastances), he felt his eyes glowing, and he felt a sort of beastial hubris, like he could take on anything or anybody. If ever he encountered God, God would be struck down.

Experiences like this are what SWIM does this for--definitely felt recharged. Here's some pics:

 

[Espiridion]

.
.

"AMOR-FATI SMASH!!!!"

.
.

 

[antrocles]

very nice brother.....those crystals are beautiful....i've got a fat vacuum-sealed bowl full of ones just like that sittin' in my freezer your journey sounds empowering beyond words....very good stuff my brother...VERY GOOD INDEED!!!

L&G!!

 

[MagikVenom]

Nice post! I wonder how common the "exploding phenomena" Is I get it maybe ten percent of the time. Anyone else get this? Once this occurred when I returned I found my glasses in the end of the hall way about 20feet from the sofa I was on. Wile still under the influence I was sure I had indeeded exploded. I wish I video taped my self of course most likely I threw my classes down the hall.


Peace
MV

 

[amor_fati]

Warpaint can be found here:


and this is "Indo Shadow":
[YOUTUBE]

 

[amor_fati]

Nice post! I wonder how common the "exploding phenomena" Is I get it maybe ten percent of the time. Anyone else get this? Once this occurred when I returned I found my glasses in the end of the hall way about 20feet from the sofa I was on. Wile still under the influence I was sure I had indeeded exploded. I wish I video taped my self of course most likely I threw my classes down the hall.

Funny, SWIM took off his glasses during his experience, but he set them on the table. He usually doesn't have to do that, but this one was fairly intense.

 

[idtravlr]

Outstanding report and outstanding crystals a_f! I know the suit of armor you speak of. I too get on the lysergic. It makes you stand tall and almost march into anything the universe might throw your way!

Peace!
-idt

 

[jacetea]

I hate having to wear glasses...I can't see shit to light the bowl without them, but I always forget to take them off...Feels weird halfway through the trip, like they're heavy and need to come off.

 

[amor_fati]

Last night was largely a continuation of this experience. Though the night started out with SWIM catching his friend up with the experience he's missed out on--the early days of SWIM's journeys with spice. SWIM was playing some old playlists--one specifically for the spice and the other for the overall experience of SWIM's abode...very sentimental--and the night was going well apart from an accidental underdose of THH. SWIM was heard to utter "you bastards" in that slow motion drawl of the spice intoxicated mind and began tinkering with his now "toy-like" equipment in a frenzied but addled attempt to remedy this absurdity. SWIM over 30mg THH on the scale in his desperation.

He dumped the pile of THH under his tongue and immediately began to develop a new method of sublingual administration: SWIM tilted his back (probably to prevent the accumulation of saliva) and began to "paint" his soft palette with the powder using the bottom of his tongue. The taste is horrible, almost painful, and SWIM has to muster the strength to keep from washing it down. But then it kicks in like a flash, SWIM's eyes are opened and his mind clear. His friend had left to use the restroom, but by the time he returned, SWIM was practicing martial arts. We ended up switching to some more appropriate music, moving the coffee table off to the side, and engaging in some light sparring and general training. At some point, this couldn't go much further without posing danger to contents of the room, however.

SWIM then put on his Blackfoot A-1 club record. SWIM was thoroughly enjoying this and was doing a bit of drawing while his friend was preparing to write. SWIM then loaded up 60mg of crystalline spice (they had been using the waxy kind up until this point), and after a few rapid tokes with a torch, began to realize that the THH had worn down (though apparently not completely?). The immediate lauch was a little alien, but then he began attempting to materialize a fighter jet (SWIM generally only has experiences like this with THH). Then came the imminent threat of death: SWIM felt that the drums and yells from the record were a death curse of some kind that had been lying in wait for some naive white man to stumble upon. SWIM was half right, as the song was a war dance, and the record had been pressed in '73--the year of the occupation--Wounded Knee II. We Shall Remain | Wounded Knee

Though I've always appreciated that record to a great degree, I've never come so close to understanding it as I had last night. Something's building here, SWIM has a feeling that a pharmahuasca experience may be in order if he's to go much deeper.

 

[shoe]

those crystals are phat.

 

[Neuronaut]

This sounds like an amazingly intense experience. The aggression in SWIM's experiences actually sound really appealing to me. Keep these reports coming.

 

[amor_fati]

SWIM spent most of yesterday afternoon on a good portion of psilocybe honey and actually recorded an album during that experience. Though his experiences with THH and DMT were still very much in line with the recurring themes of his prior experiences, much of the physical portion was exhausted fairly early in the day, with some heavy lifting in the morning and the violent drumming and throat-singing of the afternoon's psilocybe reveries. The evening began with a communion between SWIM and his band-mates--having had an incredibly successful recording session--involving, firstly, the construction of a couple new mini-machines.

We started out listening to Ravi Shankar to facilitate our journey then moved onto a couple films:

UbuWeb Film & Video: Tony Oursler - EVOL (1984)
[YOUTUBE]

&

[YOUTUBE]

That second one's fairly incredible but has some rather...awkward scenes toward the last part.


It was after everyone left that SWIM's experiences went wild. A lot of the time was spent reviewing and editing the recording while smoking, especially one song in particular which drove SWIM incredibly wild (can't even begin to describe the pleasure of so thoroughly enjoying a song one has had such a strong contribution to).

SWIM should first mentioned that SWIM neglected to report a "jim-jam" (maybe?) experience in one of his last reports, but it was quite brief and caught SWIM off-guard. He was actually among company, watching "Apocalypse Now," so it was a bit inappropriate and had been a long time since SWIM has had such experience (at least a couple times from back in the early days of FASA, once while having sex :shock: ). The first time, SWIM was twiddling around with his mini-machine and noticed that it started to feel malleable, so he looked down and saw it somewhat melding with his hand. His hand itself looked quite odd...like a flipper hand or something. This last time, the hand was the first thing he noticed, as it began to take on a thin, alien appearance. Then everything became somewhat fatter, and SWIM's fingernails become strangely elongated. This was incredibly real for SWIM and was lasting for some time, so he decided to just play around with it. SWIM found it rather limited and a little annoying for lasting as long as it did (seeming like he would never come out of it), and so he decided that the only solution was to smoke more, which seemed to do the trick. SWIM has reached similar states with higher doses of psilocybe but found them to be more agreeable.

The rest of the night progressed as usual with DMT and THH, until the THH was starting to wear off and SWIM re-dosed but then smoked far too soon with a large dose (unmeasured, since with THH and waxy full-alk spice, SWIM just rolls up little balls and loads them) while kind of jamming out to the song mentioned earlier. SWIM bombarded by gold and silver foil (or something like that) and diced to pieces, but apart from the dicing, such an experience was familiar to SWIM, so he just enjoyed it and somehow reconcile the vision with the spirit of his bond with the song. Then the tears started flowing, and he went cold. He rubbed his arms and torso rapidly to try to keep warm, as he felt cold as death, then a familiar feeling and vision came upon him: He began to glow light blue and felt and incredible rush of information filling his head (similar to what happened a couple of nights prior with crystal spice and even more similar to some prior experiences from long ago, but MUCH more intense). He felt almost as if he had been encountered with the choice of transcendence, but he chose the Earth.

The THH had kicked in for the rest of the night after this experience, and SWIM was recording music from his recording medium to the computer while smoking. The best way SWIM could describe the feeling at this point between the various accomplishments and experiences from early in the day, the aforementioned experience, and listening to his album with DMT vapor and the sublingual THH in his system is to say he felt "hot-shit," like a fighter pilot (a recurring theme for SWIM) entering the fray or something. A few lines from "The Futurist Manifesto" come to mind:

# We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.
# Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.
# Up to now literature has exalted a pensive immobility, ecstasy, and sleep. We intend to exalt aggresive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer’s stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap.
# We affirm that the world’s magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath—a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.
# We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit.
# The poet must spend himself with ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.
# Except in struggle, there is no more beauty. No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece. Poetry must be conceived as a violent attack on unknown forces, to reduce and prostrate them before man.