I think I might have taken too much today. I took a whole tab, roughly double what I’ve been taking the past few days. And I wouldn’t say that it’s hard to concentrate but… it’s kind of hard to concentrate. I’m listening to music right now and my brain isn’t really working the way it normally does. Writing these words is like slogging through mud.
Okay so let me think… what did I even do yesterday? I feel like I must have calmed down a lot yesterday for some reason. I did notice that I still had some residual anxiety from the day before, but overall I was getting work done and things were good.
I think 20 mcg is too much
Blah. I can’t even string my thoughts together. .
OKAY. So. What. Did. I. Do. Yes-ter-day. Fuck. I shouldn’t have taken so much. GAH
Alright… um. Shit. Oh right, so two days ago I decided I needed to purify my body with a nice little 48 hour fast. So I didn’t eat anything the entire day. So yesterday I woke up feeling pretty amazing, as I normally do after fasting.
People tend to think that fasting is like some incredibly difficult thing, but it’s really not. It’s all mental. You just want the pleasure of that tasty food hitting your tongue, the visceral sensation of chewing, whatever. But once you realize that fasting once a week will make you live a longer, happier life, that shit doesn’t become too hard to start doing.
So I woke up yesterday in a fasted state and took my half tab. Got my work done and headed off to the gym.
Normally when I work out on the 2nd day after a fast, I’m a little weaker than normal. Well not exactly weaker, but I just have less endurance. Like if I can do 20 reps normally, I’ll do 12 while fasted. It varies obviously but there is definitely a reduction in endurance. Strength, not so much.
And yesterday was no different. Endurance was down, strength was about the same. Actually strength was a bit down yesterday for deadlifts, but for pull ups it was actually higher. Since starting this powerlifting shit, I’ve been doing weighted pull ups.
Lifting as heavy as possible actually kind of makes the gym fun again. Each time you go you want to see if you can lift more than you did last time. Bodybuilding shit is just so boring to me now, I can’t stand it. It’s such a chore.
But anyway, I did 2 pullups with 2 x 45 lb plates attached to the weight belt. Never done that before. Was it because of the microdose, the fasting, or just a natural result of my training progression? Couldn’t tell you. But I was pretty stoked.
One thing that I noticed is that this shit makes me sweat A LOT. And not the kind of sweat that happens when you exercise. This is straight up stinky ass armpit sweat that makes you embarrassed that you didn’t put any deodorant on in the morning. Normally I don’t need that shit, but the past few days I’ve been smelling like a… smelly person.
Definitely noticed it yesterday in the gym as well. I felt bad for people who had to stand next to me.
Life after the gym
I came home feeling pretty good, probably because this time I made sure to take my phenibut/creatine/agmatine before leaving. That little combo always puts me in a good mood. For one thing, creatine is the fucking bomb like Donkey Kong and has literally hundreds of studies on all the good shit it does for your brain and body.
Agmatine is a metabolite of l-arginine, which is an amino acid that’s used for a bunch of shit. In the fitness world, agmatine is known for increasing blood flow to muscles during a workout or “giving sick pumps” in brospeak. But it also has a calming effect on the mind, which definitely comes in handy. I could use some of that shit right now.
And phenibut.. we all love phenibut.
So yesterday when I came home, I got back on my computer and kept working. I was considering going to WeWork, but I just felt so damn good that I didn’t feel like I had to. Yesterday was actually an amazing day now that I think about it. And if I was to try and pinpoint why it was amazing, I would probably say it’s because there was an absence of any sort of negative feelings.
That sounds obvious, but I didn’t have any negative thoughts going on in my head, wasn’t stressing about anything. I didn’t have this nagging feeling in the back of my mind, like the one you get when you’re in school and have a project due the next day.
In the evening I smoked weed and played Dota. Typical. God my life is boring.
I’m not sure if it’s because of the MD or what, but I actually feel like I don’t overanalyze things anymore. Decisions are really much more simple now. There is no hypercognitive shit going on in my head anymore, shit is either yes or no and it’s pretty clear right away which one it is.
Strangely enough, this shit actually blanks out your mind and makes it HARDER to think. You’d think it would be the opposite. I mean, from all the shit I’ve seen about LSD it seems like it activates your entire brain constantly. So you’d think that all that extra activity would make it easier to think, no? Or easier for your mind to wander? I don’t even know. LOL this shit doesn’t even make any sense. Fuck.
Yo I am tripping the fuck out. I could literally just stare at my computer screen right now at the letters and trip out on that. So this is why people like acid huh? I get it now. It’s much more chill when you do it in an apartment.
I remember the first time I took acid. I was in high school and had just started getting into drugs, despite being one of those super anti kids who would say shit like, “smoking weed is WORSE THAN CIGARETTES” without knowing shit about it. I claimed I would never smoke weed, never do drugs until one day… one day I did.
But that’s a story for another time. Today we’re going to tell the story of the first time I did acid.
By that point I was already a regular weed smoker. My best friend at the time had a big black Bronco that we’d ride around in and smoke blunts in, usually with other people from our football team. We felt like little gangsters, hanging out with black people, blasting Mobb Deep, and smoking blunts in West LA. Good times.
Anyway, the offensive coordinator for our football team was some hot shot who had organized an all-star game between two different Division One leagues in our city. Even in southern California, football is a big deal. And this game was going to have like 30,000 people watching in an actual stadium. Our coach asked for volunteers and for some reason my friend and I decided to go.
Not long before, this little girl who had a crush on me had given me 4 tabs of acid. Like I said, I had just gotten into drugs and had the attitude of wanting to experiment with everything. I had an amazing experience trying ecstasy for the first time and it opened me up to the possibility that maybe this drug shit wasn’t as bad as I had been told.
So this little raver girl, Jane, somehow hooked it up and just gave me 4 tabs of acid one day. I kept them in my desk, waiting for the perfect opportunity to trip.
And don’t ask me why, but for some reason I thought that working at our offensive coordinator’s sponsored once-a-year championship all star football game was the place to do it.
Until then, most of my drug knowledge came from Erowid, which is a massive website that has tons of information about drugs. Among other things, people would post their drug experiences on there as a way of exchanging information on what different drugs did. It’s still around I think.
Trip first ask questions later
I had read a little bit about acid but apparently not enough, because as far as I understood, you would just see pretty colors and shapes and tracers.
On the day of the game, my friend picked me up and we started making the hour long drive to wherever the game was. I popped the two tabs in my mouth and waited.
Ten minutes before arriving, I still felt normal. My friend pulled off to the side of the road to roll a blunt and I sat there waiting. He sparked it up and the car started to fill with smoke.
I remember taking my first puff, coughing, and then reaching my arm behind my head to grab onto the headrest. I can still picture it in my mind right now, the tendrils of smoke wisping up from the blunt while I realized that I couldn’t move my arm. I felt like that shit was stuck, and for some reason I thought that was extremely funny.
I started laughing hysterically and saying to my friend, “I can’t move my arm! It’s stuck!”
After like a minute of this, my friend goes, “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
I figured that was probably a good time to tell him. “I took two hits of acid on the way here. I guess it’s kicking in!”
I felt pretty fucking good, but when I looked over at my friend he had this look on his face like I was his autistic little brother and had just shit the bed. He was not amused.
We finished smoking the blunt and started driving over to the parking lot. On the way, I started TRIPPING THE FUCK OUT on all kinds of shit. We’d drive by something and I would think it was something else, then I’d excitedly tell my friend. He did not share my amusement.
After a minute of this he snapped at me, “Bro, get yourself together. Our fucking FOOTBALL coaches are going to be there.”
Whoa. Fuck. Shit. That’s no joke right there. Football is like the military. And while there’s no explicit rules about showing up to volunteer at your coach’s sponsored game tripping on acid, they probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
Finally we pull up and I do my best to put on my serious face. I remember getting out of the car and thinking that I heard the roar of a lion. I whipped my head around and realized that it was just some Mexican dad with his family.
“That’s confusing,” I thought, “but I guess that means that my perception is off.”
That calmed me down a little for some reason.
We saw some other guys from our football team and walked over to greet them. We definitely stunk like we’d just hotboxed a blunt but that was kind of par for the course on our team, so they didn’t seem to care. And hopefully it excused any erratic behavior on my part.
When we got there, one of the event organizers gave me a bunch of posters and some tape and said to me, “Here, I want you to put these up over there.” Then he pointed to a wall which was probably 20 meters away.
I looked at my friend and he gave me a look that said, “DON’T FUCK THIS UP BRO.” So I put on my game face and did my best to walk over to the wall that the dude had indicated.
Walking over there felt like an epic journey. No lie, I was worried that I would get lost and not be able to make it back. To this day I don’t remember if I successfully put up the posters or not, but somehow I made it back in one piece.
And they didn’t even know I was a Yid
Then the best part.
So by then some other guys from our team had arrived. Now, this being a football team, most of the guys on the team were black. And out of all the people who volunteered to come work at the game, my friend and I were the only white guys who showed up. And my friend is actually half Persian and half Lebanese, so between the two of us, I was whiter than him.
We’re all gathered there with one of the guys running the event, a black football coach-looking guy with a Nike hat and Oakley’s. He starts telling people where to go, okay you go take tickets, you work over here, etc.
Then he looks at me and goes, “You good at math?”
Somehow I managed to say that I was, so this motherfucker goes, “Good. You’re working the cash register.”
Literally the absolute worst possible thing you can give someone on 200 mcg of LSD to do. I swear he just picked me because I was white and thought that I wouldn’t steal from them because of that. Little did he know…
You’d think I would have freaked out, but one very important lesson that I learned from reading a trip report on Erowid is that people don’t know you’re tripping until you tell them. I took that at face value, mainly because I had no other choice.
“Okay, so programs are $7 and t-shirts are $10,” the football coach-looking guy tells me. “Try and sell as many as you can.”
They didn’t even have an actual cash register there. Just one of those metal boxes with a slit in the top.
They didn’t even have a fucking calculator, which is why I guess he asked me if I was good at math. Maybe it didn’t have to do with stealing at all. Shit, maybe they DID know I was a Jew!
Anyway, the next 8 hours were some of the most intense I’d ever experienced. To this day I have no idea how I managed to not only not freak out, but also was able to make change and bullshit with people who came to buy t-shirts and programs.
I was actually selling a shitload of stuff, and right before the 4th quarter was about to end, the football coach-looking guy comes over and says, “Just sell the t-shirts and programs for whatever you can.”
So my friend and I grabbed like 50 t-shirts in one hand and started hawking them to people who were walking by, making deals like 5 for $20 and shit.
We definitely made these guys a lot of money, so I didn’t feel so bad about stealing over $200 from them over the course of the day. Although at the end of it when it came time to hand over all the money that was in our pockets from hawking the t-shirts, the guy said to me, “Yeah that’s all of it EXCEPT what u got in yo pockets HUH.”
“What? I don’t have anything in my pockets!” I tried my best to sound innocent.
It didn’t seem like he was buying it. He just smiled and was like, “Uh huh, sure you don’t.”
I don’t know if he saw me pocketing shit or what, but he didn’t say anything when it happened. And even if he did, it’s cash so there’s no way he could prove that it wasn’t mine to begin with. Of course I didn’t think of any of this at the time, this is only years later in retrospect that I’m coming up with my own criminal defense.
My friend, bless his heart, came by to check on me periodically throughout the game. But I was actually fine. Tripping for sure, but definitely able to handle what the universe had to throw my way. Which, as it turned out, was just a bunch of black people trying to buy some t-shirts.
We left the game feeling like champs, bought a bunch of weed with the money I’d stolen, and then went to a party that a bunch of people from my high school were at. Good times.