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Smooth as Glass But...
1P-LSD
by McLaowai
Citation:   McLaowai. "Smooth as Glass But...: An Experience with 1P-LSD (exp108642)". Erowid.org. Jun 20, 2016. erowid.org/exp/108642

 
DOSE:
100 ug oral 1P-LSD (blotter / tab)

BODY WEIGHT: 85 kg


1P-LSD (1-propionyl-lysergic acid diethyl amide) - where the P may well stand for 'placebo'. But really, who's to say for sure?

Background: I am almost 40, and had plenty of experience with drugs such as: marijuana (copious amounts), LSD-25, Magic Mushrooms in my early 20s. Until this trip it had been 20 years since I last properly tripped. I have also consumed lots of alcohol, weed once in a while, along with one or two hits of MDMA and cocaine here and there. For the past year I have been totally clean and sober, enjoying a healthy lifestyle with plenty of exercise.

After Saturday night's failed attempt to get much effect from my friend's lackluster weed my partner was determined to sample a tab the next day, such was her disappointment with her first dalliance with an illicit substance. I overruled her however and a compromise was reached where I proceeded to sample the wares for myself in order to judge potency and any potential issues with it. Said tab (100mcg of 1P-LSD) was held under the tongue for 30 minutes before going down the hatch at 3pm on a somewhat sunny afternoon. I hovered around the lounge preparing a selection of Boiler-room sets to chill out to on YouTube while awaiting onset of the first effects with a tingly anticipation. My dearest busied herself her across the room sketching out her latest painting perched upon the easel: a simple rose upon a mustard yellow backdrop.

An hour passed without much in the way to report. With a further 30 minutes under the belt and still no real signs of encroaching psychedelic wonder I began to entertain the possibility that it was merely a dud batch, or a total gyp. Wandering over to my dearest to view her efforts and offer encouragement, as she had been making some typically negative noises about her work, I began to notice that the shadow effect she was touching up behind the bright green leaves was starting to swirl slightly. Indeed, the more I observed the results of her oil paint brushstrokes, lit by the soft afternoon light streaming through the windows, the more it took on a 'Van Goghian' quality; intricate details emerging from the canvas drawing me in to its blossoming beauty. 'It's not good...' she bemoaned with a pained expression on her now slightly green-tinted face. 'It is very good indeed,' I answered stepping back to take it in from a distance. 'You just need to touch it up a little here and smear the colour a little over there,' I urged her on. 'Really? Like this?' she remarked, as she refocused her energies on the parts detracting from the now shimmering Sunflower-esque mosaic. Quite simply, the painting came alive.

'Do you enjoy the creative process?' I asked her after a few moments, keen to pick her mind such was my now clearly heightening state, and breaking myself free from the gravitational pull of the magnificent vision unfolding before me. 'No.' she replied flatly. 'Just the end result,' she then added quickly as if sensing my disappointment with her reply. 'Surely there is a joy to be had in crafting something so pleasing to the eye?' I verbally prodded her. 'But, it's difficult!' she moaned, irritated with her own lack of patience. 'Yes, I'm sure it is, but truly worthy of your labours. There, lighten that part, and thin the stem here,' I gestured with encouraging tones. She picked up a finer brush to do as I had bid. A smile began to appear on her visage as she beheld the corrective results of my observations. 'I do enjoy it when you are here helping me,' she admitted as I returned her smile.

In fact now I could hardly refrain from grinning like a gurning cheese merchant, and had to strive somewhat too to stifle the most unseemly giggles
I could hardly refrain from grinning like a gurning cheese merchant, and had to strive somewhat too to stifle the most unseemly giggles
, which were threatening to erupt from my inner child as it were. However, even as the whole world around me was taking on a similar masterly painterly quality I felt none of the other primary associated effects of the burgeoning psychedelic state: auditory/musical enhancement, time dilation, thought loops, mental edginess and confusion. In fact my mind was totally clear, I was me. I was not one with the universe but merely an individual observer gazing upon the clear and obvious beauty of creation around me. Closing my eyes I saw none of the associated fractal-like 'closed eye visuals' I have experienced numerous times on previous trips. There was no paranoia, nothing but a Van Gogh sheen brought across my vision and a desire to laugh. In other words, it was candy-floss. A very pleasant candy-floss to be sure, but there was nothing deep going on, no profound insights, none of the soaring majesty of thought lines piercing the infinite. The experience had been anesthetized of anything unpleasant or truly 'out there'. It is the perfect museum dose, a drug and dose as I took (100mcg) suitable for strolling around a gallery gazing upon the handiwork of artists all the while with a clear head and ability to articulate effectively almost totally unhindered.

I was feeling content (if somewhat bemused by the lightness and fairground ease of the ride), it had been a happy, bright experience all the way through so far. Once my partner had completed her Rose she smiled and set off pottering around as I reclined on the couch to see how the delights of modern television would grab me in my present state. By almost cosmic coincidence the first episode of season one of True Detective happened to be on and I settled down as the dense tale of murder, plot and intrigue played out in the swamps of Louisiana. The troubled character Cole was expounding on his philosophical theories of existence as they drove down the highway, 'It's all one ghetto man. One giant gutter in outer space.'

And right at this point my belle opted to add a piquant twist to proceedings as she sat down on the armchair nearby with my phone in hand. I could already sense the darkening skies of doom beginning to broil into view as she gazed at its seductive glowing screen. 'The landlord wants to come by at 9am tomorrow with the plumber to fix the sink,' she announced flatly. 'Put her off!' was my first instinct, 'Say the day after.' 'But we need it done!' she remarked, voice rising slightly in pitch. I elicited a groan at this intrusion by the real world sticking its ugly nose back in to proceedings with such mundane trivial matters. 'Tell her later in the day, I may need to sleep this off tomorrow,' I offered, hoping this would settle the matter and the damn phone could be hidden away. A few moments later it buzzed with her reply. 'She is pushing to come early in the day,' my partner announced giving me a sharp look, which warned me to accept this proposal. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck...There, just send that!' I uttered turning off the TV with my concentration now broken. I noticed her tapping away on it as a single tear rolled down her cheek glistening effervescently in the evening sunlight.

My mind was relatively clear and I knew what this tear foreshadowed: a display of unguarded emotional disconsolation, but the swirling beauty of artistry before my eyes combined with the aforementioned gurning simply made me laugh out loud. This of course only hastened my darling's descent in to the morbid depths of histrionic wallowing to which she was unfortunately prone. Realizing this was not a passing squall but a heavy set change in weather fronts I had to gather up my reserves of energy and focus on the issue at hand, all the while trying to wipe the smile form my face and stifling the desire to burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. 'What is it? What is wrong? Please tell me,' I cooed at her. 'Nothing,' she sniffled. I prodded, cajoled and coaxed her until finally the cause of her current plight became apparent. In viewing the text message from our landlord she had delved a little further in to my messages and noted that I had mentioned her to one of my friends. 'It is the tone in which you referred to me!' she exclaimed as more tears cascaded down her face like a sparkling waterfall of frozen diamonds. 'It is like that time in holiday in Norway with those people on the bus...It proves to me what I have feared for a long time; that you don't love me...' she uttered as she crumpled inwards in sensational anguish. All of a sudden, what had been the most pleasant of afternoons (casting a well practiced eye over her handiwork and shaping her art to a higher level through my enhanced supervision) had descended in to a battle to save our relationship.

A spurt of adrenaline shot through my system and self-preservation kicked in wiping any semblance of a smirk from my countenance. 'Let me tell you something: this afternoon, as I began to take note of you working on your painting I was drawn in more and more to the beauty of your efforts, and I realized that there could have been no more pleasant way to spend my trip than to aid you in improving your piece. Forget the TV, or movies, or music on the internet, all of that. We did it together, we achieved that (gesturing to the painting now drying on a chair) as a result of working side by side. You were unhappy with it before I joined you and upon completion you couldn't stop smiling at the end result, it's something beautiful we created ourselves,' I expounded. There was a chink in her armour and I had to keep chiseling away at it but her defenses did not give in the easily and she fired up accusations calling in to question my manliness and character or occasional lack thereof. She was testing me to the limits and all of a sudden I was supremely grateful this playground level trip was no more than that. Had the churning visuals been any stronger, the effects on mind anything approaching a trip like LSD-25 I would have faced the ultimate world shattering disaster of failing to pull her out of the pit of despair she was so fond of throwing herself into.

I admitted all my faults of which she accused me of. I apologized. I stressed I would do better, that I would be a better person. I atoned. And slowly, bit by bit, she relented, the tears dried up, her face began brightening and the hug of forgiveness was eventually forthcoming. And while I felt a wave of relief that the ominous storm clouds had been beaten back I was slightly agitated that she had gone through my messages and thrown such drama at me in the height of my trip. We had spoken clearly about all this earlier in the day, about the need for a calm, tranquil environment and atmosphere. Such melodrama could have waited, but no. And so, I began to turn the tables to a degree. 'I am very thirsty,' I announced. 'Oh...' she replied. 'Darling, I did explain before I took this substance that you should remind me to drink water regularly but you haven't mentioned it once, and I'm so thirsty, my throat is parched...' 'I'm sorry! I'll get it now,' as she rushed to the kitchen. 'Thank you,' I replied gulping down the cold liquid. 'You know, I think we're both guilty of being somewhat selfish at times...' I stated, wishing to highlight her own egregious foibles. She looked at me with a slightly worried expression. 'What time is it?' I enquired. '8.30pm' she announced, looking at her watch. 'I last ate at breakfast, nearly 12 hours ago...I'm getting a little hungry and you did say you would prepare the food tonight, but you have forgotten all that...' I explained. 'Oh! I'm so sorry, I will get something ready! Please!' she cried full of animation as she hustled to the kitchen to rustle up a little something.

'Hmm,' I muttered as the earlier feelings of contentment began seeping back as I reclined on the couch. Turning the TV back on I sat back and soaked in the abomination of a film that is 'The Patriot'. Its cartoon qualities were on full display, the hammy story, the insincere acting, the cartoon villains, the utter cliched cheesiness of this movie was highlighted in neon supervision and I marveled at its badness, before returning my gaze at the boats floating down the river outside. (Note: This movie is bad sober, the drug merely amplified this to the Nth) Eventually my dearest appeared with the fruits of her labors in the kitchen, transforming the nature of my trip with her intervention yet again. Upon the sizable coffee table she placed a steaming bowl of dumplings with accompanying chopsticks, aside a smaller bowl of soy sauce mixed with chillies and shredded spring onions, a pot of lemon and mint infused green tea and an incense stick set in an antique holder. All of a sudden I was transported to a pagoda in ancient China as I savoured the still swirling sights and smells before me in the waning evening sun. And I chowed down with a surprisingly ravenous hunger. 'Mmm,' I uttered to myself, pleased with the way the tail end of this trip was transpiring.

It was not long after dining that fatigue overtook me and after one of my many pit-stops to the toilet (It acted as a diuretic) and another large swig of bottled water I had to retire to bed, drained as I was after the emotional exertions earlier in the day. It had been a curious trip all round, not quite what I was expecting but overall far from unpleasant. It never got beyond a certain level of the psychedelic experience but simply cruised along like an afternoon drive along a sunny coastline. Upping the dosage to 200mcg or 300mcg could prove to be interesting as the visual broiling soup effect could start to truly draw you down the rabbit hole but I feel this substance lacks the depth, the mental weirdness, the sheer profundity of the real deal that it could only be counted as a superficial gloss over reality, rather than dissolving you entirely into it and smearing you across eternity. The next day I was a little dehydrated and had a slightly heavy sensation in my brain, a borderline hangover if you will, which gradually faded upon ingestion of copious amounts of water and plenty of hearty soup and fresh fruit. However, if you wish to view the world, and paintings in particular, through the eyes of Van Gogh then this is the drug for you. Unless, of course, you count the potential madness of gazing upon such infinite beauty as a negative.

Note: I suffered an ongoing and persistent low level headache for days afterwards.
I suffered an ongoing and persistent low level headache for days afterwards.
Initially I thought it was due to dehydration but after drinking plenty of fluids and not abating I worried I had done some damage to my precious brain. I did manage to alleviate this unpleasant situation (although not totally) by ingestion of decent amounts of the spice Turmeric added to my food.

I am now very wary of doing 1P-LSD again after this, as I have never experienced such ill effects while tripping in the past from LSD-25, MDMA, Mescaline, Magic Mushrooms.

Exp Year: 2016ExpID: 108642
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 39 
Published: Jun 20, 2016Views: 6,903
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1P-LSD (682) : Relationships (44), General (1), Small Group (2-9) (17)

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