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Finding the Wrinkles; Deep in the Crease
2-Fluorodeschloroketamine & Alcohol
by Anatoli Smorin
Citation:   Anatoli Smorin. "Finding the Wrinkles; Deep in the Crease: An Experience with 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine & Alcohol (exp114380)". Erowid.org. May 14, 2020. erowid.org/exp/114380

 
DOSE:
T+ 0:00
36 mg insufflated 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (powder / crystals)
  T+ 0:18 14 oz oral Alcohol - Beer/Wine (liquid)
  T+ 1:00 14 oz oral Alcohol - Beer/Wine (liquid)
  T+ 2:07 63 mg insufflated 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (powder / crystals)
  T+ 2:44 19 mg insufflated 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (powder / crystals)
  T+ 3:40 21 mg insufflated 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (powder / crystals)
  T+ 3:40 0.5 oz oral Alcohol - Hard (liquid)
  T+ 4:05 46 mg insufflated 2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (powder / crystals)
  T+ 4:05 12 oz oral Alcohol - Beer/Wine (liquid)
  T+ 7:16 2.5 mg oral Etizolam (liquid)
  T+ 7:36 3.0 oz oral Alcohol - Hard (liquid)

BODY WEIGHT: 182 lb


Finding the Wrinkles; Deep in the Crease

The report below details my second ever experience with 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM. With this limited exposure to the substance, I cannot say if this is an accurate representation of the substance. On my maiden voyage with the compound I was accompanied by one of my all time favorite people to explore novel substances with. The excitement of a “first time” plus the set and setting could have contributed to the primary difference I noticed between the two trials. The first attempt had prominent stimulatory effects. The pace of conversation was faster than when sober or on other arylcyclohexylamines. There was more euphoria than some other dissociatives that I use more frequently such as ketamine, esketamine, 3-MeO-PCP, etc. I found this stimulation extremely enjoyable, until bed time arrived and I had issues falling asleep without the assistance of benzos and zolpidem. Normally I have no issues inducing sleep after ingesting substances in this genre.

Please note: the two trials were using different batches of material from two different sources. Both are trusted and I attribute the difference in effects to set and setting more than any manufacturing differences. Both batches were tested to confirm they were indeed 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM. Likewise, the etizolam was confirmed to be etizolam.

The etizolam had been personally prepared in a propylene glycol solution to allow for accurate volumetric dosing using a fresh oral syringe. All the powder dosages taken in this report were measured on a freshly calibrated .000 gram scale.

I used a combination of written notes, drawings, as well as an audio recorder to document the experience. I am confident the timestamps are accurate.

There were no specific intentions set for the day. I spent the entirety of the experience in my home with my partner Kai and my four legged companion, Gee. It is a Saturday, and we are all in good spirits; relaxed, excited and ready to roll.



T + 00:00 [1:40 PM]
As I often do, I prepare a small initial dosage that is designed to ease the departure from baseline
I prepare a small initial dosage that is designed to ease the departure from baseline
and prime me for secondary dosages that will bring me to the full intended intensity. I weigh, crush, and insufflate 36 milligrams into my right nostril.

I cringe. There is an immediate sting inside my nasal passage. Before I can complain to Kai, the pain fades away. Within ten seconds, there is zero discomfort. A nearly tasteless back drip arrives just as the pain departs. It is not sweet, chemically, or caustic. A slightly numbing property is notable on the very back of my throat where the actual physical drip is occurring. This feels more similar to cocaine than ketamine or most other dissociatives. The flavor is akin with ketamine, but much less potent.

Kai insufflates 61 milligrams. She plans to do little to no re-dosing and thus opts for a slightly larger dosage for her first rip.

T + 00:18 [1:58 PM]
Nothing much is happening yet. I’m meandering through the house and end up in the kitchen. I open the refrigerator without specific intent, and realize that I’m a bit thirsty. Orange juice and champagne are sitting side by side at eye level.

POP! Champagne is now open and being poured [14 fl. oz. 12.5% ABV]. A dash of the juice is added lickety-split and I’m headed back to the couch much more satisfied than when I was during my aimless strolling around the house.

T + 00:25 [2:05 PM]
My thoughts stray away from big picture theoretical ideologies or any sort of serious future planning. Neither “What is life for?” or “What needs to be done at work next week?” are anywhere to be found. Decisions like “Do we need more firewood for later today” and “Do I need anything right now” are what I find my mind naturally drawn to. When sober, I struggle with minor obsessive-compulsive tendencies that often manifest in the form of over-planning and indecisiveness. Now however, everything is simplified. It also feels unforced and natural, without any overtly synthetic “intoxicated” characteristics. It feels great to remove the weight of everyday worries and live just in the current moment.

This shift in mental functionality is a tell tale sign that I am beginning the dissociative experience in earnest. There is no euphoria or mania attached to the different themes of thought or reduction in overthinking. The mental divergence feels very similar to ketamine and esketamine but slightly clearer. It is less intrusive and pushy, overall lighter and more friendly in nature. There is a growing desire for social interaction that manifests as a quickened pace as I pepper Kai with questions and conversation. The energy boost manifests physically as well in the form of a compulsory leg bounce and aggressive smiling. I don’t feel like the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM is about to drag me away into a hole or destroy me with confusion. It is more like: “Hey Anatoli, happy to see you! Care to dance?!”. I am an undeniable +/- on the Shulgin Rating Scale now.

Physical movement is sensitive and foreign. I’m aware of how I’m moving through space in a pleasant way: gravity can be felt in excess, and the air feels like velvet being dragged against my skin.

I seem to be picking up on things that are normally tuned out by my brain as irrelevant or of secondary importance. Extra time is spent inspecting smudges of dirt on the window; hunting for, and finding, patterns in both the dirt itself and the negative space it forms. The flecks of mud also key me in on minor saturation which is present throughout my visual field. All colors, across the spectrum, seem a little deeper; richer than they normally are. This is the only visual effect present at this time. There is no activity on the backs of my eyelids as of yet.

T + 01:00 [2:40 PM]
Kai suggests we get Gee outside to play, burning off some of her energy while we enjoy the beautiful scenery. A layer of fresh, fluffy, low density snow covers everything on our property. The trees are especially beautiful; evergreen branches laden with snow collect sunlight and coruscate beautifully. Beyond the aesthetic, I have a deepened appreciation for the nature that surrounds us; an integral part of the home that Kai and I are lucky enough to inhabit.

A chilly breeze whistles through the trees, adding a bite to the cold, which is notable, but not as bothersome as it would be if I was sober. I have on appropriate clothing for the temperature (sunny and 33 Fahrenheit degrees), but feel more comfortable than I should. The cold refreshes and invigorates me.

Kai suggests a second mimosa, which sounds like a great idea, worth returning inside for. I pour us each a glass [14 fl. oz. 12.5% ABV] and stare into the liquid as the golden color of the juice wraps itself around the rising bubbles of the champagne. There is no patterns or otherwise specific reason to watch the colors and textures of the liquids swirl together, it just looks pleasant. Feeling chilly and a desire to be off our feet, we move to the bedroom which is the warmest room in the house. I select some lo-fi electronic music, with a theme of oriental instruments, to play at a low volume as background music.

Kai wiggles around on one side of the bed, slowly settling into a commodious cocoon of blankets and pillows. I coax (without much difficulty), Gee to join me as an extremely soft, very lovable, “small spoon”. The embrace is caring and meaningful.

I annoy Gee with excessive petting and she moseys down to her normal bottom corner of the bed before settling, after three circles, with a content groan. Finding a new position to lie and enjoy the music in is very easy. Too easy. Like . . . nothing has ever been easier. Not only does each and every different arrangement of my physical body feel heavenly, but the process of moving: dragging my limbs and torso through the tangled mess of coarse wool blankets and soft cool sheets, is divine. Textures and temperatures register acutely on the surface of my skin despite a slight numbing sensation that is creeping through me. The comfort is ultimate – I could lie cuddling all day.

Checking in regarding one another’s condition, Kai says to me; “slugggggish ooey gooey”. I simply nod in concurrence, understanding completely.

The effects, although still mellow, seem reactive to my mood. Color saturation decreases as I relax but increases as I think more rational thoughts, generally concerns about my next dosages, possibilities of over doing it, or other potential problems. As though my mind, the substance, or both working together, are providing insight and feedback as to my need for additional dosages.

I’m perceiving some social awkwardness between Kai and I. Kai does not have the tolerance to alcohol that I have and her dosage of 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM was twice as much as mine. These factors seem, from my perspective, to have us on different levels. Me being more grounded, while Kai seems to be a bit further from baseline.

Kai is asking some simple but high importance questions about life. I am not yet in the space to dig deep and answer these types of questions. I fidget internally, worrying that I am not answering correctly or truthfully. My proximity to sobriety is causing overthinking and the light effects of the dissociative are making me just confused enough to feel incapable of answering properly.

The effects of the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM are smoother across the board than ketamine. At similar dosages (by milligram), this is less confusing. My mental capacity is altered, most certainly, but it is less of a maze to navigate than other dissociatives. I compare the delta in confusion levels between 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM and ketamine to that between ketamine and methoxetamine (I find MXE to be notably more confusing than ketamine).

With my eyes closed, red blobs levitate through a backdrop of utter darkness. The scene is slightly more coordinated and complex than a phosphene type effect.

As I settle into the space, the red dilutes itself, becoming an uncountable number of shades of color that lie between orange and red. The shapeshifting blobs, still set on a depthless black backdrop, begin to stretch in a north to south fashion until they become thin and tall. Strings the colors of autumn gently elongate themselves until ultimate thinness is achieved. The strings group together in three dimensional ovals, reminding me of the shape of the front pockets on a pair of jeans. Slowly my point of view draws closer to the glowing strings. There is not any sensation of movement – the feeling is entirely visual, with the distance between myself and the shapes growing continually smaller. Eventually, the pockets reach from the top to the bottom of my visual field. It almost feels like something big is about to happen. I watch and wait, only to see the luminous strands pulse the light they emanate while floating in place, slowly drifting like large columns of seaweed in a calm ocean. I lose interest and open my eyes.

Meh, not much to report with eyes open either. The most noteworthy comment I make in my notebook is about the lack of visual static. Almost every dissociative experience in the past decade has produced some degree of a black and white shimmering dots to dance across my visual field. The ability to so clearly see the color saturation of surfaces around the room is more jarring than it would be with the familiar static overlay.

Kai and I finally collide, each previously moving in our own patterns within the space of the bed. One thing leads to another and we end up having sex. As is my usual, I keep any content of this variety at a minimum, including only that which might be useful to a reader. Our abilities are both close to normal (sober). I am not drastically affected in either a positive or negative way. There is a slightly enhanced ability to perceive specific desires from Kai.

Kai and I enter the shower together. The hot water, humid air, and cleansing of my body all feel exceptionally unexceptional. Straining to find something definitively resulting from the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM, I perhaps detect an unusual ability to see sections of the steam rising together as defined chunks towards the ceiling. My vision is poor without glasses or contacts, so seeing this level of sharp detail is notable in its own right. These precisely defined steam shapes are not intense, but do indeed verify some level of effects are being felt.

Overall I feel like I am well on the way back to baseline, at a ± now. At most I have reached slightly below a + at the peak of the effects.

T + 02:07 [3:47 PM]
I’m slightly behind my desired re-dose schedule, but I’m refreshed, happy, and ready to explore: I prepare and insufflate 63 milligrams of 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM.

T + 02:29 [4:09 PM]
I’m headed back up – no doubt about it.

A downward pressure presents itself within my forearms. It feels as though gravity is altering the strength of its pull for only this portion of my body. Heaviness, like the weight of a physically exhaustive day, trades off with a floaty sensation, like after getting a massage. The sensation has a tidal nature to it; back and forth, back and forth.

T + 02:36 [4:16 PM]
I no longer feel that the experience is growing. My vision has saturated again, after drying out slightly during my abbreviated comedown from the initial insufflation. No stronger visuals present themselves with eyes open. Things are settling.

Conversing is easy, honesty is very easy; opinions flow out with less active filtration than normal, like changing to a “social-colander” with holes twice the size I am accustomed to
opinions flow out with less active filtration than normal, like changing to a “social-colander” with holes twice the size I am accustomed to
. The loosened lips are less prominent than it would be after a handful of beers, and I feel less likely to tell a tall tale than I would be when drinking. This is more a sense of my honest opinion coming out with ease than it is accidental disclosure of something I intended to keep private.

T + 02:44 [4:24 PM]
I’m timorous: reserved as I prepare another line to snort. My mind red flags the 100 milligram mark (total insufflated), which would normally be approaching a tipping point in terms of intensity, if this was ketamine. In my one prior experience, and research done in preparation, 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM seems to be less potent than ketamine. Even so, I cautiously decide on just 19 additional milligrams. Immediately after insufflation I chase the powder down my nasal passage with a few milliliters of water from the kitchen sink. I sometimes use this technique throughout an evening to clear my nose and assist with absorption.

Almost immediately my vision is affected. I pause mid sentence, the hairs on my nape bristle, hinting that something is afoot. I raise my head to look once again into the kitchen. Everything appears to be in its place. Oddly so. Too much so. As my gaze settles, the normality of the corner of the wooden dining room table gives way. Slowly this edge begins to stand out from all else. Although it is of similar color to the floors behind it, the table seems extra three-dimensional, standing out physically, making the rest of my vision seem flat by comparison. Shimmering clarity, a translucent layer, creates a sheen across all objects in my vision. When I tilt my head to side, the glistening luster shifts, like when the sun moves through the sky causing its reflective glare to change angles on any objects it is shining upon.

There is some pressure building behind my right eye. It feels very similar to pressing a finger lightly on my closed eyelids, except now it is the back of my eye receiving the pressure from an imaginary finger.

I’ve been assessing the substance and the intensity of effects given the dosage, trying to put together a comparison chart to other substances and dosages. Overall I am pretty underwhelmed. I press pause on the mental mathematics and really try to simplify my mental space. With relative ease, I trim out one idea at a time until the only thing left occupying my mind is the active processing of my first person view. I take one moment at a time, stretching out each second as much as I can, pulling at the concept of measured time like taffy on a hot summer day. Eventually I slow my mind down until there are almost no reactionary thoughts occurring. I view the kitchen, but don’t make any internal commentary; I just take in what my eyes relay to my brain.

I’m in a trance-like state, unintentionally meditative. Time seems to slip away, slow down; the metaphorical hourglass broken allowing the literal sands of time blow around the room abstractly. This is interrupted by the realization that my mental comparison chart and analysis was incorrect. A sudden flood of visuals crash down on me. The hard surface of the stone countertops appears spongey. The edges of them blend into whatever is next to them. They look comfortable and as if they would be malleable to the touch. Moving my focus around the room, I notice that everything: shelving, appliances, sink, and glassware, all seem to now be made of plastic that has been heated to the point that everything is melting together. The room appears to be a cartoon. Interestingly the “illustration world” is limited to the kitchen. From my vantage point on the couch, the room around me, and between me and the kitchen, appear far less effected. A distinct line cuts diagonally through the rooms. One one side is cartoon-land and the other is only effected by slightly saturated colors, and not much else. Curious to see how immersive the visuals are, I walk towards the dividing line. By the time I reach the kitchen, it has returned to a nearly ordinary appearance. I don’t witness the transition but it also wasn’t like I blinked and things went back to normal suddenly either. I test my short term memory: what did I just see?

There is no sensation of “snapping back”, suddenly becoming less influenced by the substance. The transition is natural, but disguised. The time lords have played a trick on me, taking the linear concept of time and folding it up upon itself. The result is me searching through the crumpled ball of time following along the wrinkles; hidden deep in the folds and creases. The decline of effects intensity happened in a gradual downward trend line but this line was re-routed into a maze structure that veiled the comedown from me.

Completely content with leaving the mystery of the disappearing cartoon kitchen unsolved, I have a quick drink of water from the sink, and retreat to my comfort zone on the couch.

T + 02:53 [4:33 PM]
Things are hitting now! I feel exponentially deeper in the experience than I did moments ago. I’m sober minded enough to make notes that this is a turning point into a more “serious” experience. I would no longer be comfortable in a social setting. In this condition, my preference is to be alone or with close friends.

I’m rolling my head around: side to side it sways. The anesthetic qualities are not as strong as with ketamine but still present. The motion of my head is pleasant, but it is not registered or acknowledged by my neck and shoulders. There is an internal point inside my brain that detects the swaying movement. It can feel itself click into position at the point when my head is perfectly straight; neither swung to the left or to the right. The majority of my physical body is numbed in the sense that I don’t feel much from it, but if I touch my fingers to my leg, I can certainly feel the contact. Active awareness of my physical form is limited to my toes, which I realize are a bit cold. In reality, they are probably very cold, considering they broke through the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM’s sensory blockade.

The more I assess the level of anesthesia I am experiencing, the more I realize I’m far from totality. My face swells with internal warmth. Pins and needles deliver microscopic points of tingling heat. The primary sensation is felt most on the surface of my skin but each point has a tail, like the underground root of a blade of grass. This is especially concentrated behind my right eye. I have felt a very similar sensation in this same exact location when using N-Ethylnorketamine.

Momentary dizziness is accompanied by an overwhelming desire to lay down. My internal conversation with myself is slightly jumbled: I stumble with the process of connecting thoughts. My mental functionality seems jerky and unsure of itself. I’m actively trying to settle into this next level of the experience and also decide where it should go next.

Touching base with Kai, who is also on 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM but currently more functional than myself, provides great relief. Getting on the same page with the person who can provide support, companionship, or any assistance necessary for the rest of the evening is very comforting.

Relaxation allows me to open up to the experience. The more I relax, the more the effects intensify.

The crispness of my vision shifts uncontrollably. The knobs controlling the contrast and sharpness of my visual field have been cranked to maximum. Hairs on my dog Gee are glorious to behold. She is laying down, facing me, with her standard quizzical facial expression; one ear cocked to the side, displaying concern or perhaps understanding. From the glistening tip of her nose to last wispy white hair on her tail, I can see every single hair on her body. Although they lie upon each other, I am able to see the precise edge of each. After a few seconds, the individual strands sew together, leaving my to witness simple geometric patterns wiggle across her body that I know are complete trickery being played on my eyes. This is not unlike previous experiences where I have taken tryptamines in expansive fields and seem to be able to see both the incomprehensible number of individual blades of grass at the same time as seeing much larger chunks of green that move with the unity and precision of a large flock of birds navigating as one.

Given that things are picking up visually with my eyes open, I’m curious to check in on my closed eyed realm. WOAH – after images galore! The outlines of every object in the room glow on the backs of my eyelids. Purple, blue, and orange outlines glimmer and flicker like neon lights the hour before dawn in some lonely corner of an aging city. The edges of the colors blur together as I move my head. With both eyes still firmly shut, my gaze is drawn to the large windows to my left. I know outside them lies the darkness of an impending snowstorm but my eyelids erupt with colors and patterns when I look in their direction. Light sources obviously do not play a role in the intensity of the colors. No beautiful geometric shapes or cartoons emerge in my minds eye. After the outlines of of the room blur to abstraction, all that remains is a slowly swirling cone of color. The tapered cylinder is filled with jagged lines that constantly shift; absolving old attachments and soldering new ones so they form an ever-evolving collection of zig zags and crooked dashes.

As I sit with my eyes closed, staring out the window, some high pitched tinnitus whines. This is not atypical for me when taking substances. For comparison, the internal ringing noise is about half as loud as it is when I use ketamine
the internal ringing noise is about half as loud as it is when I use ketamine
. Everything I hear is a bit louder than normal but not to an extensive or bothersome degree. Any other auditory effects are limited.

Opening my eyes brings me rocketing down towards baseline. I instantly feel that I’m below a + level of effects. There is the obvious sensation of not being sober, but things are not nearly as strong as they were just moments ago.

T + 03:40 [5:20 PM]
While this feeling of sobriety persists, I decide to not allow this to be the beginning of the evenings end. I prepare 21 milligrams and insufflate. My nostril still feels clear and there is almost no burn or drip. I follow this ingestion with a shot of tequila [.5 fl. oz].

The immediate effects of the alcohol are: nothing. I can’t feel anything besides the familiar sting and bite of the taste.

I’m actively trying to re-arrange my intentions for the night from ‘mellow fellow’ to ‘fun and spun’.

T + 04:05 [5:45 PM]
Fun and spun it is! I grab a beer [12 fl. oz. 5.2% ABV] from the fridge and I weigh out an additional 46 milligrams. I send it up my left (previously unused this evening) nostril.

As I align the plastic tube to my nose, the movement of my shirt across my arms gives me extreme awareness of the contact point between my shirt sleeve and my skin. Each and every hair on my arm seems to have its own nerve center; able to send a report of “yes the shirt is touching me” and on the receiving end my brain receives each such report individually. Tens of thousands hair follicles felt, registered, and located by my brain all at once. While short lasting, this sensation is markedly strong.

I’m calm, but have a creeping suspicion in the back of my mind that things are going to rapidly become more intense from here.

My inkling is confirmed as I sit back on the couch and look in the direction of the kitchen. The kitchen! It’s folding into itself; collapsing.

I have my wits about me enough to enjoy watching the spectacle, but at the same time, not intoxicated or absorbed in the experience enough to believe that the geometric reconfiguration of the kitchen was actually happening. There is a part of my mind that can advise the rest of my mind that: “Everything is alright, what you are seeing is impossible and indicative of an experience that has gotten out of hand, but everything is okay, enjoy it”. So I to myself, and did just that.

The major features of the room don’t physically move through space. Rather than the collapsing being an actual collapsing, it is more like my visual field is changing shape. The room bends and resizes everything in it to fit the new architecture of my vision. As the corners of the room fold towards the center point of the floor, I re-affirm: the shelves, appliances, and walls are not moving . . . my vision is doing the moving. The dimensions of what my eyes take in are bending in a triangular shape with concave curvature on every side. The result is that everything in a normal full field of view is crunched and misconstrued into an impossible overlaying of shapes and dimensions.

For a half second I thought I did waaaay too much. The substance seems to be oddly visual just following insufflation, but this backs off very quickly.

T + 04:12 [5:52 PM]
I sit, my back perfectly straight, held in place by thick goose down couch cushions that have the perfect amount of resistance and support. The fire crackles and pops loudly in front of me. The sounds it makes are significantly more noticeable than the heat or light it is producing. My five senses are cranking up and tuning down a bit randomly. For now, hearing is dominant.

And. Away. We. go.

For music, Kai has selected an old favorite selection of mine: the Nicolas Jaar Essential mix of 2012. Closed eyed visuals sweep me away as I drift along with the comfortably familiar melodies. Visually, I am encompassed by layers of gargoyles. Each layer is stacked vertically on top of each other. It’s as if I’m in the middle of a slinky, where each band is a circuit of rotating gargoyles. The layers rotate in the opposite direction of their neighbors; top to bottom they flow clockwise, counterclockwise, clockwise, counterclockwise, and so on, down to the bottom.

The gargoyles have marbled deep blue and red coloration. The speed of the rotating statues, and the angle in which I view them from, is dictated by the tempo of the music, which has accentuated audio clarity. Simultaneously, the stone creatures sprout arms and begin to methodically pass a single figurine head to one another. Each layer that is rotating in the same direction is in complete unison with each other.

Blinking my eyes erases the entire vision in an instant. I search for the closed eyed visuals again by immediately clamping my eyes shut but it feels unnatural and I get no immediate response. Slowly however, eggplant and lavender colored phosphene shapes blossom from the darkness. These shapes develop into multiple layers of triangular scales that shift back and forth, overlapping each other like the skin of a snake. After just a few moments the scales multiply infinitely upon each other, their movement birthing a spectacle like millions of abstract brush strokes spreading thick red, blue, and white paint chaotically in all directions.

I’m in the zone now. A solid ++. I squeeze my eyelids tight in hopes of intensifying the visual effects. Bingo: the array of colors immediately implodes and I am left with a singular point of shining neon green that is set on a background of pure black. The black quickly overtakes my visual field except for the singular shining green dot. As quickly as the darkness executed its dominance, it relents, allowing a small tube to grow outwards from the green particle. Rapidly, the pipe structure bends in sharp angles, weaving around itself faster and faster; it reminds me of an old PC screensaver from my youth. As the shape continues to wind around itself more and more, it becomes too difficult to follow the movement. The structure is now so complicated that the green layers effectively overtake my entire field of vision.

This is the point at which the old screensaver would restart with a fresh black screen and a new winding tube. My mind’s eye is slightly more advanced than the mid 1990’s graphics.

The simplistic tube network erupts into a vastly diverse range of colors and shapes. The new scene is starkly biological in character. I cannot tell if I’m viewing this fractalized landscape from a macro or micro perspective. The formations of color seems to shrink and expand at the same time, an infinite cycle of oscillation. The background music reaches a crescendo and the pattern filled visual field explodes outwards, or I fall into it, I cannot tell which. For a split second I am immersed in color, I’m no longer surrounded by colors and shapes, I’ve collided with them, someone the atoms of my body intermingling in a delightful colorful confusion. I get no time to assess or enjoy this odd integration. Suddenly, everything is over. My eyes are open: I’m back.

T + 04:29 [6:09 PM]
My estimation of how much time has passed is relatively accurate. I compensate within my guess for the time stretching effect I seem to be experiencing. Every minute seems to last at least four or five, but I can tell this is happening, rather than it catching me by surprise. Reality drags me back into its grasp. A small amount of smoke is coming back into the living room from the fireplace. Without much thought, I stand and put on the welders mitts I use to re-arrange burning logs. I move slightly slower when handling the flaming pieces of wood and placing them in better locations. This caution is intentional, and probably warranted, but I don’t feel that my motor skills are impaired to the point where tending the fire is unsafe. The heat on my arms is still registered to a normal level: my external sensory is not completely muted.

Kai opens a few windows preemptively in case the smoke issue continues as I continue to tinker with the fire structure and draft. Making my way back to the couch, I could swear I was seeing my breath in front of me. I try again with a large exhale, but I cannot replicate. I rationalize that we are inside the house: it makes no sense that it would be cold enough to see my breath in the air. I put this oddity out of my mind and chalk it up to the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM which is still ramping up.

I CAN see my breath! There is a channel of cold air, that Kai verifies in her more sober state, allowing me to see my breath when facing a specific direction as a light wind flows into the house via an open window. This is not particularly exciting or entertaining content, but my confusion about what I am seeing with my own eyes speaks to my level of intoxication.

With each tilt or movement of my head, I can feel the reality of my physical motion veer away from my mind’s interpretation of it. This feels as though the center of my brain is a very high quality ball bearing and I can feel it spinning, perfectly smooth as though it sits in a gyroscope. The center of my brain stays in its perfectly centered location, the movement I induce is absorbed entirely by the gyroscopic cranium framework that holds my brain at its center.

The material I have insufflated tonight seems to be an internal heating source. Even with the cold breeze blowing through the window I am comfortable. The cold draft actually feels pleasant. Everything is pleasant come to think of it. I feel positive; removed from stupid normal life, ready for an adventure, already in one actually!

It’s hard to discern if my thoughts are being exaggerated by the 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM or if the substance is the source of my adventurous feelings. There is an exciting sense that I’m no longer in my house. No longer in my time even. The house takes on the persona of an ancient castle. I feel prior to electronics. Transported somehow. This is lovely. My thoughts take me through a make-believe life of a simpler time and all the attractive aspects of such a way of life. I would like to have this escape be for real. The relief provided by reprieve from a job is truly amazing. In this space I have no job. This thought shakes me from my alternate existence and gives me an interesting insight about how none of the “ancient castle Anatoli” is all that different from “real world Anatoli” except for my professional duties. A job is what tethers me to reality.

T + 04:40 [6:20 PM]
I walk to the bathroom and pee. There is no physical difficulty with this process.

Restrooms seem to always function as a good setting to take measure of my intoxication. As I do so, there is still no static overlaying my vision. This clarity is a welcomed variance from my normal dissociative experience.

Outside of the lack of static, things are pretty classically dissociated. The whole room is tilting backwards. My vision is actually bending. The cabinetry, mirror, and walls all stretch in unison, upwards and backwards. The effect makes me tilt my head backwards to try and retain the same objects in my visual field. Shifting my vision downward, the toilet comes closer as I pee. It then shrinks back to its original spot, then approaches again: rinse and repeat.

As I exit the room, I watch my reflection move through the mirror and then disappear, as the reflective surface is replaced by painted wall. As this crossover occurs, my focus changing from mirror to wall, I’m shocked by my disappearance. I lean back and forth, making myself appear then disappear again. I repeat again. Each time is entertaining, odd, weird, and confusing. Why am I disappearing?!

Upon returning to the couch, I write frantically as if my ideas and memories will leave my mind if I do not get them down on paper as soon as possible. I think about the fact that this is not true, but I can’t stop the fast pace chicken-scratching.

T + 04:56 [6:36 PM]
I am much more down now, the effects have dropped off quickly. I begin joking around with Kai, feeling relatively sharp and witty. There is no confusion in conversation at all. I keep racing towards baseline at a surprisingly rapid rate.

T + 07:16 [8:56 PM]
I can feel the experience itching for its ending. I don’t disagree with it: I’ve had my fair taste of both visual and mental effects. Honoring the fact that the psychedelic nature of the experience has all but departed, leaving me with a touch of synthetic stimulation and natural unease from the transition of mental condition, I measure and ingest 2.5 milligrams of etizolam. The evening feels complete.

T + 07:36 [9:16 PM]
The intentional comedown is smooth. I take two shots [total of 3 fl. oz. 40% ABV] back to back. I still cannot detect the effects of the alcohol. Perhaps a slight increase in sedation is felt, but it lacks the punch of pleasure it would normally posses.

T + 07:58 [9:38 PM]
A bluntness takes over the edges of the objects in the room – the HD sharpness in my vision is gone. The dullness feels not only normal, but almost comforting. The visual effect is accompanied by a unique pleasurable rotational effect. It is like the spins from too much alcohol, except un-dizzying and more like a carousel from a children’s dream than an out of control ride at a carnival designed to induce vomiting.

Everything falls into place, including my head on my pillow. Some slow and tired hip hop lo-fi beats carry me into a gentle slumber.



Additional commentary:
Since the experience described in detail above I have had a number of additional experiences with 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM. Some of the general notes below may have been influenced by these.

Many of the visuals effects seem to occur in close proximity to snorting the substance. Compared to other dissociatives, this seems to have a pretty rapid onset, especially in the visual department.
Compared to other dissociatives, this seems to have a pretty rapid onset, especially in the visual department.


In further thought about the timeline of 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM, I find the comedown to be normal length (peak to baseline) but the drop from peak intensity to reasonable sobriety is very steep, with a long tail end of minimal effects. Unfortunately however, this substance is one of the only arylcyclohexylamines that has a significant prohibitory effect on my ability to sleep. I have found that when taking 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM I use zolpidem and other sleep aids more often to induce sleep than with other similar substances.

The entire duration, particularly the portion of the experience spent between a + and +++, is a pretty quick. Not considering lingering effects, this seems to be, for me, a significantly briefer endeavor than some of the other common dissociatives (ex. ketamine I’d estimate requiring a solid 15-25% longer time commitment).

Overall the chemical is massively welcoming and generally does not feel scary or intimidating in any fashion. Even old favorite substances can feel awkward and carry the potential to be frightening. 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM seems less likely to trigger the flight of butterflies in my stomach just prior to taking it. This could be situational, and I don’t have nearly as many experiences with this substance as some others, but the friendly nature does seem to be a theme thus far in my experimentation.

A common theme with this substance is my reflection about how lower level effects show potential for social applications. This seems to stem from the light stimulation and the lack mental entanglement.

In the end (for now), I find that 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM seems to fill the role of “ketamine substitute for those who like ketamine” fairly well. I think this is one of the most similar chemicals I have tried to either esketamine or ketamine when the comparison is made holistically. Other substance are more similar in specific aspects of their experiences and effects. I do find that the substance can lack depth at times, feeling shallow even when the effects are strong. There is an “ultimate” that is missing with 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM. I have reached “hole” experiences with this substance, both on its own and during combo experiences, but these are not as spiritual or meaningful as other dissociatives holes tend to be. I typically find 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM most useful in a moderately social setting when I’m looking for a fun experience but not necessarily one where I am trying to explore personal growth and progress. I’m not writing off 2-Fl-2'-Oxo-PCM for these purposes, but my initial trials indicate it will continue to play a more recreational role, if any, in my repertoire.



Exp Year: 2019ExpID: 114380
Gender: Male 
Age at time of experience: 29 
Published: May 14, 2020Views: 318
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2-Fluorodeschloroketamine (778) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Combinations (3), General (1)

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