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.

Thanks for reading,

JBArk

EDIT: SCROLL DOWN FOR VAGINAS

I started tripping just from reading that Good work

Thanks Purges, I put a lot of work into the writings I post here. Very glad you enjoyed it!

JBArk

Very well described, my friend... as all ways

You have a lake view from your house? If so, that must be a magical place to journey.

Very nice.

You're thinking about 5-MeO- and you've only gone as far as 18mg n,n- in the GVG? Hmm...

Good god, man. It's nice to see that a mangled pinky doesn't slow down your typing too badly. I almost get a touch of vertigo when I read your descriptions at times. They can take me right back, or even unlock some previously lost split second memory. You've got the gift of gab, my friend. Use it for all it's worth. Take that plunge and draw us a map. As town scribe, it's kinda your job.

Now sack up and smoalk moar, you hobbit handed sissy! Next stop... 25!!

I second that, if I can

...27!!!

But it was a fat 18, Gibran2 .

I will start slow with the 5meo, no need to doubt that. Have you tried it Gibran2?

And boys, boys boys... As you well know, i have sacked up many a time. Sometimes a man needs to sack down, afore sackin up a-gin!!

JBArk

I can relate kind of, that it's not always depending on the amount smoked(the intensity of the experience). However, I can still recommend trying the "breakthrough dose" of 25-27mg in single inhalation if one isn't afraid of hyperspace. If you already haven't done so.

I have done many doses higher than that, but one particularly eerie accidental 80-120mg unmeasured dose and a few 40-50mg scares in an unreliable smoking device have got me starting over with the GVG - hence slowly working my way back to sack.

JBArk

I haven’t tried it, and have only slight interest. (I think I associate 5-MeO with Martin Ball a bit too strongly.)

An essentially non-visual experience doesn’t appeal to me. But I’d love to hear how it goes with you – maybe you’ll convince me to give it a try?

I must admit, an "essentially non-visual" experience does not mesh well with my interests, but does however, pique my curiosity. Maybe as a way of disassociating 5meo with Martin Ball you should give Tryptamine Palace a read - I think you'd enjoy it. It won't be for at least a few weeks or longer, but I will keep you posted, and, of course, if the experience is interesting or pleasurable or blissful or god-filled, i will do my best to razzle dazzle you into giving it a whirl.

Stay 'tooned!

JBArk

I really enjoy the way you write man. very descriptive... Even threw some rhymes in there. As I was reading it, it almost sounded like some crazy, even MORE tripped out Dr. Seuss at certain points. Looking forward to more

Thank you! If you like this I have a few more for you to read, if you feel so inclined:

Lucy dreams of Lucy dreaming of dreams of Lucy

MYCOMYSTERIUM

MYCOPAX

The Salvia Diaries

there are a few more buried too... If you get a chance to read any of these, let me know what you think. I am no chemist, so my contributions here are purely literary!

JBArk

ANOTHER GVG DIARY ENTRY

It has been a while since I have made an entry here. I had a rough year and put off such shenanigans to give my mind some rest and peace. I have had a few experiences in the last months, but none of an order worth writing about. This last weekend, however, I was at an outdoor party by a small lake with about thirty-five people and a very good DJ and I had a trip not untypical but for a confounding image at the end.

By the fire, music pulsing and twisting and smiles abounding, a friend asked me if I had brought my kit. I smiled and said yes and went to get it. In the interest of quiet and forfeiting disturbance we decided to head up to one of the buildings on the site – there were five, all chalets and cottages, but this one had an open space on the ground floor that was used for parties in the winter as well as yoga retreats and, apparently, business conferences. We pulled out some mats and pillows and settled in to a dark corner, using a flashlight to measure and load up the GVG.

My friend went first: 23 mg. At first, his face was expressionless and I was worried he was having a rough one. But we had both recently taken our second MDMA, and he had never to my knowledge had a bad trip, so I wasn’t too surprised when the GRIN crawled across his face. He chuckled and ran his hands up and down his face and his sides and began to writhe and laugh low, all the while waxing ecstatic and grinning the smile of the winning while. Eventually he came out of the trance but he waited several minutes before opening his eyes, muttering, “wows” and “hows?” and “can’t bes” over and over again.

Then he rolled on the mat to look at me lying next to him, and the sparkle in his mind shot through his eyes and dispelled any doubt or trepidation in me about being up next.

It had been a while, so I measured and remeasured about 15mg that read on the scale: 14,15,18,15, 19… I do so love my fickle scales! It has a sense of humour my weighing apparatus!

I meditated for a few minutes (much easier I remarked with a slowly peaking dose of MDMA), then lit the torch and drew on the pipe until the cotton wisps swirled no longer through the glass and my lungs could pull no more. I gave my friend the GVG and lay down on the mat.

The slowest come up ever as shapes and colours and winding forms emerged and collapsed and exploded in my field of vision, dimensions folding in and billowing out and welcoming and consoling and moving ever so slowly – never a trip so gradual and comforting, the shapes almost slowing to wait on my thoughts as if consciously following my subconscious like a puzzle waiting and flowing to wordless instruction.

Nothing all that unusual in the nature of the visions and shapes, though in several places, maybe five or six (hard to count in hyperspace – you just feel numbers, the only ones felt precisely being 1,0 and the infinite!), there were demi-spheres opening and closing, rotating through the base of the dream, like eyelids closing then rolling around the eye to disappear below then re-materializing above and closing and opening over and over again, not in unison, but all five or six with rhythm nevertheless, each revealing and then concealing golden shimmering orbs that when observed directly, fell into concavity like those optical illusions where you are unsure if it is a bulge or a depression in a surface. Still, not so unusual but for its slowness… none of the hyper-ness characteristic of this space, on account of the MDMA I imagine, none of the zippy hold-on-for-dear-life million-mutation-per-second phantasmagoria of custom and expectation. But otherwise par for the course, business as usual, all expectations met and equaled, another day at the office.

Until, in the bottom of my field of vision – if bottom there can be in a place with no up or down! – a wedge cut from a circle grew in size to take up half my field of vision. In this form, the circular bit at the top, was an image so lifelike I felt like I was peering through a pie shaped church window at a close-up of the inside of a pair of closed white legs where they join together and join the body, and at this joint, below a low tuft of dark hair was a - vagina, the clitoris peaking out shyly from behind the curtains… Not so much sexual (legs closed, flatly lit), but attractive, and without a doubt – a vagina!! What??!!??

It was so exact and real it was less like a photograph and felt more like I was in the presence of some unknown woman. I think I may even have blushed! I stared at it, aware of, but now uninterested in the sparkly lightshow going on outside the pie shaped window. I was fascinated by this apparition, this vagina of the mind whose likeness to the real thing was uncanny, missing no detail. I was starting to come down, and the apparatus of JBArk was beginning to think again: Where did this come from? What recesses of my mind? (Or elsewhere?) Why? What to do with this image, the only one I felt certain would not fade over time (it hasn’t)? Is it sexual? If not, what?

I lay there for a while as it faded then opened my eyes and told my friend about it, in detail. He laughed. He was likely asking all the same questions.

Then, quite content, I closed my eyes again and was surprised to see more shapes and forms, less luminescent and be-sheened, but there nevertheless. And slowly the hyperspatial dancing forms coalesced into another vagina, but this time disembodied, seen in its fleshy entirety, opening and definitely and overtly sexual. It moved and writhed and grew closer but it was of an entirely different order than the previous one: I felt my mind interceding, I felt my will and my sexual energy focused on this one, so it was in many ways less surprising and majestic - no mystery and all carnal desire and arousal.

And of course, in due time this image also faded. I lay there for a while thinking of vaginas (well, do you blame me??!!?), then sat up. We packed our things and went back down to the fire and the dancing bodies, both with huge post-trip grins, though mine, I guessed, tainted and of a different origin than his.

So there it is. Anyone care to analyze it? To psychoanalyze me? Not the first time I have had sexually charged trips with visions of genitalia - mescaline always seems to go in that direction for me, highly aphrodisiacal and imagistic. This was however, the first time it has been of this nature – not entirely un-sexual, but an emblem of something else, seen through a portal of sorts. My more realistic visions often manifest this way – a small mestizo boy’s face at the end of long tunnel, small children through hyperspatial tubes, transmission-like visions on a screen or through a veiled window of a woman walking bipedal, tubular dog pets… outside of which the pervasive, cartoony-hyperspace, impossibly hued mayhem. A window to something so real I could touch it had I limbs and fingers in that place.

Though had I touched this particular vision through it’s pie-wedge window, I have no doubt it would have gotten sexual quite quickly.

Shamelessly bumping my own thread, 'cause I posted days ago and no one read the latest instalment! ^^^^^^^

Anyone?

So vaginas, eh jbark?

When I read the last sentence of this paragraph I had to giggle. I wasn't expecting that (i'm sure you weren't either).

I have launched from the warm glow of MDMA and it's definitely an easier ride (slower as you put it) and little anxiety to speak of. I am very far from being a psychologist, so I really have no idea how to analyse it from that perspective.

Maybe you saw vaginas due to the euphoric rush you were getting from the Mandy? An interesting experience nonetheless...

JBark a good read and i was tempted to wade in a couple of days ago but i don"t think i have the finesse to deal with psychedelic vaginas and the psychoanalysis thereof.
I would probably have been a bit crass and asked if you"d been getting enough of late. And, like Mr Kermit, enquired if the Mdma had anything to do with it.

What do you think it all meant???

Yup. Vaginas. Two. One at a time. Different angles. Hmmmmm....

Maybe the Mandy. Maybe the young women gyrating by the fire and hugging us all before the GVG was trotted out. Maybe. Fear of birth? Fear of death? Death by fear of vagina? Hyperspatial procreation? I usually get these kind of realistic visions on higher doses, but I wasn't even that deep. (pun intended, unless it wasn't )

I can't say it was unpleasant, just puzzling! Far worse things to be puzzled about though.

Thanks for reading! It's been a while I have posted any writing.

Cheers,

JBArk