DOSE: T+ 0:00	20 mg	oral	Methoxetamine	(capsule)
T+ 1:00	20 mg	oral	Methoxetamine	(capsule)
T+ 0:00		smoked	Alcohol - Beer/Wine
T+ 0:00		smoked	Tobacco - Cigarettes
T+ 0:00		smoked	Cannabis

BODY WEIGHT:

150 lb

Day 1:

The first dose was consumed around the 22:00 mark. I was in my living room, accompanying T. I had consumed the first 20 mg via gel capsule (T. preferred to bump his).

We began the trip with me pulling out Abalone and teaching T. to play, with an album of Frank Sinatra I had unearthed earlier in the afternoon in the background. The music was an excellent choice, as it had the relaxed, stripped down ambiance to put you in the dark place of the young, grimy Sinatra in the city. Once T. got the hang of it, we were very friendly and laughing constantly. The next album we put on was a children’s album of cheesy 80’s music, helping kids learn to learn science (narrated by David Suzuki).

When we realized it had been another hour, we both dosed another 20 mg in the same manner used earlier, respectively. I was still baseline, except for a headache. About a minute after consumption, I stood up, and felt my headache dissipate almost instantly, and a general feeling of roundness ensued. We finished the Suzuki, and I played the first two sides of Godspeed You! Black Emperor’s Lift Your Skinny Fists Like Antennas To Heaven, before deciding to leave the house. When I went to the bathroom, I noticed my pupils were not dilated whatsoever, and at that time, I saw just an animal, an organism staring back at me. I felt a true dissociation with my soul. When I came out, T. asked if I felt like a robot, and I told him I felt like “meat on bones, and not much else”.

We began our walk at the park across from my house, as we had earlier. At this time, it was not raining anymore. The air was warm, humid, and unbelievably comfortable. The sky had clouds in the utmost upper region of the atmosphere, and drifted peacefully by, under an almost blinding full moon, which cast shadows over most objects. We walked along the paved path, and the incandescent streetlamps laid perfect blankets of soft darkness across the tall forest silhouetted behind them. The streetlights become a prominent symbol in my trip, as they have in my life. I was flooded with visions of periods past, black and white eras making me invoke the spirit of Jay Gatsby, pining for the green light.

We continued walking up to and down a street, and decided we should go to the cemetery. Along the way, we noticed a sense of isolation, and I had a particular experience like I was walking through a simulation of the world. It was all very quiet and still, like we were the only ones there, and there was one small inconsistency; that of screeching metal from a house nearby every 30 seconds or so. It had reminded me of a theory proposed to me by my English professor regarding the potential for our universe to be a simulation of a computer, and being on technology, there were faults and inconsistencies where symmetry should be present (i.e. the screeching interrupting the silence).

When we had reached the cemetery, I would say I had peaked, reaching a level II. Upon hopping the fence, we began strolling down the paved path, guided by the low and bright but dim LED lamps placed in the soil atop the graves by loved ones. The lights created a cool atmosphere, giving off hints of a futuristic city (Seoul kept coming to mind), and I felt as though we were strolling alongside the spirits of those peacefully bathing in the moonlight. Perhaps this is the equivalent of the beach on a summer day.

It was around this time that I had noticed the emotional effects. It had seemed that emotions were polished down to the general emotions. There was no mish-mashing, just pure, round feelings of love, peace, beauty, etc. (Those specific ones dominated the night). It was at this time that I thought of the title Bold and Beautiful to define the experience. We continued our stroll around the paths, discussing my brother’s job and experiences (he works in funeral services), until we reached tombs, which looked like huts carved of black marble with benches in front.

We sat here for the next hour, discussing much of the deep peace that surrounds death. We spoke of how we feel fulfilled in our lives, and that if we were to die today, we would not want to be mourned. We have been loved, and lived; experienced an amazing amount of what had been offered to us, and would be content to fade back into the ether of consciousness and life . We are complete, and add onto our wholeness, instead of living as a container waiting to be filled. T. mentioned that he had intended to write a note on his computer to his family in the case he were to cease to be, to let them know of this, but he had struggled to put the intention into the terms necessary for the proper comprehension on an emotional level.

The spectacular thing about this substance is its ability to emphasize the beauty, peace and love of death and darkness. I hadn’t felt that comfortable anywhere in years like I had in the graveyard at 00:30 that night. I knew of the depth and weight carried by this drug at this time.

I went on to speak of my father’s passing, and how I was able to cope with it so shortly after it happened. Speaking all of this while staring at the solid obelisk in front of me, all of the different panels with different names, gave me a feeling that I was visiting an old friend I hadn’t seen since I was a child. We opted to move to another bench around the other side of the crypt, but noticed that the placement of the surrounding tombs was asymmetrical, and this unevenness really upset both of us, so we kept walking.

Our last stop before leaving the cemetery was to a grave with a light that had a broken glass/mosaic cover that gave off many colours. When we looked at the names of the couple buried there, we noticed they died 23 years apart, and I ask T. how anyone could go so long without their other half. He told me of his grandma who is in that same situation, and explained that he knew love never stops and that he would gladly accept her new boyfriend into their family as he is a genuine person and she genuinely loves him. It has no bearing as an insult to the memory of his grandfather, but just to the testament that there is love everywhere, often found in those who have lived through the same times as the other, and knows of the world through it’s many changes.

We then hopped the fence into the adjoining forest that had a play park in it. We briefly discussed atmospheric metal, and how it’s darkness plays greatly with one’s mind under this specific influence. T. quickly booted it to the swing when he saw it. As there was only one, I stood by and stared up at the forest and how it graced the sky. It was then, out of nowhere, I recited a quotation from one of my favourite poems, as it had never felt so fitting:

“The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.”

This is when the “Dark and Deep” came into the description, with Eric Whitacre’s “Sleep” playing over and over again in my head.

T. then dismounted and we were on our way back to my place. On our way back, I kept stopping in the middle of the road and spreading my arms, marveling at how the sky seemed to ever widen. During one of these moments, I came to notice that the mist surrounding the moon and the sky seemed to have a matte finish, reminding me of the makeup of actors from the 50’s and before. Something about that texture really helped to define the experience overall.

We were almost at my house when I asked T. if we could go to the park and go swing (I felt left out before, don’t judge me) and he said that’s fine. I explained that the park has always felt really wide to me, and the sky, as an extension, felt exponentially wider here. On the swings, I explained how music often works specific notes emphasizing certain words, as composers had intended, and that’s what frustrated me about using translation (as it usually reduces the music’s impact). I specifically referenced how in one part of Gabriel Fauré’s “Requiem in D minor”, the sopranos alone sing “Lux”, which translates to light in Latin, as to emphasize the light of God shining down. That thought led to us discussing effective writing, and the issue with describing how one feels in such a state, and how it’s one’s duty to use every conceivable detail to put the person in your skin.

We ended up discussing horror, which reminded him of a creepy rap video (Hive by Earl Sweatshirt) that feels at home, as you feel much like a demon, lethargic in the shadows. The discussion of horror, in turn, brought me around to thoughts of the Twilight Zone. The original run went with a lot of conceptual horror, ideas that often run deeper into society and philosophy than trying to scare someone with shock. There was often poetry in the monologues that both set and closed the episodes in eerie, yet beautiful ways.

After this discussion, I had an overwhelming desire to hear Whitacre’s “Nox Aurumque” with my headphones on. I told him I’d be back in about 6 minutes and set off into the field.

I have always felt a personal connection to this piece, through the darkness and dissonance it presents, and the beauty that erupts from the abyss. I certainly could not dream of a more fitting piece for the occasion.

The moment the voices kicked in, my eyes locked on a tree under a streetlamp, and I had one of the most personally prophetic moments of my life. This tree, cast in the light this way, was a direct reference to the cover of The Eric Whitacre Singer’s album “Light and Gold”. The title is a translation from his gloriously warm piece “Lux Aurumque”. “Nox” is often considered to be a companion piece to “Lux”, and translated the title becomes “Night and Gold”. I took some pictures with my phone, (which will never, ever do the experience justice). The depth of the concept, the imagery, the music, and the words all came together; all of the concepts from the night amalgamated in a way that I could not have dreamed of.

I tried to explain my revelation to T., but I didn’t quite have the words available to me at the moment, I simply gave him my headphones and said I think he would get it. He walked off and saw the tree much as I had seen it, which gave me great pause. I found a post sticking out of the ground, and despite being an awkwardly misshapen tall man, I managed to maintain perfect, unwavering balance, despite a slow, misty breeze lazily blowing by. When he returned, he said it was some powerful stuff, and we returned to the house.

He suggested we drink some beer, as it helps to catalyze the dissociative feeling of the fading MXE. So we grabbed the beer (St. Bernardus, a nice dark Belgian beer, was an astonishing compliment) and set up my laptop downstairs. My roommate, M., emerged from his room and asked if we would care to partake in some marijuana. T. was very excited and grateful to hear the proposition. As M. rolled the joint, we played the episode I had suggested of the Twilight Zone (“The Eye of the Beholder”), and enjoyed it’s minimal approach, and focus on dialogue to build the story. We then put on shoes and went to the park to smoke.

At this point, I was decently drunk (The beer is 10%, and I’d had about 375ml at the time). We stood around a 4-way teeter-totter at the park, passing around a cigarette and the joint, when a giant gust of wind carried a wall of fog over us. The rush felt amazing, like standing on the edge of cliff by the sea. It was much like being in a wind tunnel, my heart almost tachycardic with giddiness. Since everyone else was cold, we quickly scurried back indoors.

We resumed our place in the basement, finally getting around to the music video, and subsequent ones we put on. We then grabbed Abalone, and played about five games, agreeing to put on our own music and see how it affected our respective performance. I don’t actually know T.’s selection for our session, but I chose Polyphony’s recordings of Eric Whitacre’s choral works, as I was still quite inspired from the epiphany earlier. The match turned out to be fairly one sided, but I think the cannabis made any long term planning for T. impossible. After our last game, we both stumbled to bed.

Day 2 – Present:

I woke up with to my dog barking and a pounding headache (I think from interrupted REM sleep), so I feel the grogginess prevented me from making an accurate judgment of my condition when I awoke, though I felt virtually baseline. T. was also awoken by my dog, and we convened over a cup of coffee. We sat down, played a few more games of Abalone (evenly matched this time), and spun Whitacre’s arrangement of Depeche Mode’s “Enjoy the Silence”, since I told Tyler it has a similar aura to “Nox”. Shortly thereafter he parted.

Once he was gone, I spent some time conceptualizing all of the data I had ingested from the previous night, and came to these conclusions:

1) I figured that the older movies and media kept coming to mind because of the purer emotions, as they had been portrayed as much purer, simpler feelings in those times.

2) As for the matte, it seemed fitting, for matte finishes do not reflect light, which just meant the darkness was ever more prevalent, almost impenetrable. It was very much like how black holes consume light if it gets too close.

Exp Year: 2014	ExpID: 103387
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 20
Published: Apr 14, 2019	Views: 739
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Methoxetamine (527) : Music Discussion (22), General (1), Public Space (Museum, Park, etc) (53)