DOSE:	60 mg	insufflated	MXiPr	(powder / crystals)
	repeated	smoked	Cannabis	(plant material)

BODY WEIGHT:

130 lb

T0:00- Take my dose intranasally- it’s a large pile of light, chalky powder that I am not able to take down in one go. The odor is reminiscent of sour plastic and burning rubber and it stings briefly upon contact, though this quickly retreats instead of smoldering and lingering. There is an unpleasant initial shock and a lingering light discomfort, though it is for the most part tolerable and the discomfort quickly fades until the drip sets in.

T0:08- Onset, a dizziness and numbness in my extremities, typical of any dissociative at even light doses. Nothing to indicate what is yet to come.

T0:13- The drip tastes bad but it's running it course. The experience builds, flashing neon veins crackling up my limbs and seeping into my bones. I can feel the anesthesia sink from my skin deeper and deeper into my flesh, from my extremities up my limbs. I am becoming dizzier by the second, like my brain is unravelling.

There is a halo ringed around my head, glowing with a dull fluorescence, showering down a pleasantly cold dissociation, like bathing in a waterfall. There is a glowing power building within my core.

T0:15- It feels like a force rushing into my forehead, an instant and powerful stream. I see colorful flashes in the light of my screen, dots and little forms and regularly spaced patterns, radiating outwards from glowering eyespots.

My typing becomes more uncoordinated and disjoint, my fingers feel alien and incomprehensible. My face feels so cold, a numbing blast of water, my brain being washed in a raging torrent. My neurons are being power washed away and stricken by crackles of heat into the vast sky, it strips me down starting from my crown, tracing down my face, then into my sternum, so cold and powerful.

T0:20- Suddenly even more energy, it has caught me off guard with its sudden intensity. I can’t engage in other activities much, all I can do is stare in awe at the torrential dissociation that drenches me now. My limbs begin to feel like they are made of liquid, my fingers floating in a pool across from my mind, my control of them seeming miraculous and incomprehensible. It feels like a sudden storm blowing up on a summer day, blackening the sky, dumping blinding sheets of rain and chilling me to the bone with its gusts and gales. This is not a cold that makes me shiver or seek warmth, but a pleasant chill like walking past the open door of an air conditioned building on a blistering summer day in the city. And with this storm, miraculously, beams of glimmering light shoot through the clouds in prismatic beams onto the earth where my body is cast. There is a sweet taste in my mouth.

T0:25- (notated as T2;5- in my notes, an indication of my motor control. Past this point they become mangled and near illegible words on single lines of text, often rhythmic and repetitive). It builds with greater and greater intensity. I shut off my lights and lie in the glow of my laptop. It is so fast and heavy, I cannot seem to really grasp or focus on the experience as it races around my mind. It reminds me of trying to catch a great muscular snake as it races away through the underbrush. I am floating up like a weather balloon, trying to grasp at billowing prismatic tendrils. Open eyed visuals take the form of a hexagonal sectioning of my vision like I am viewing the world through compound eyes, their borders ringed by soft rainbow pulses. Every second it feels like it continues to build in intensity, dragging me deeper into its depths- I relax my body and exhale deeply and let it take me. What a rush what a colorful pleasurable immaculate rush! While I still can, I find myself frantically messaging friends, loved ones, fellow hobbyists in mangled text- this feels like a eureka moment and I must tell those who will listen about the magic of this drug, of this incredible discovery, this is a sudden upwelling of mania, excitement, a rush- a rush that is stymied by the growing intensity of the experience. I wanted to spread the good word, thank the academy, tell people I had found a new holy grail, but all conversations eventually degraded into my own inability to properly read or type coherently. Oops.

I find myself closing my eyes and drifting into the experience more and more. As my vision fades, my body loses itself to the tempest, I feel my limbs twist and stream away, coil around me in tight spirals and constrict me in their soft and gentle warmth. I get a sense of motion, like I am driving a car with my mind, or like I am on a roller coaster, at the mercy of the winds of this substance. Bright lights sparkle and flash in the sky, bordered by pits of darkness that sink into the yawning above. My body stretches and extends like I am a serpent, twisting and slithering down a dark empty highway, the earth smooth beneath me, my shining iridescent keeled scales tracing a glowing path on the asphalt. The light builds behind me until I am a great glowing front to a wave, a pulse that leaves luminous tracers in its wake. I open and close my eyes and this shatters the entire illusion, like a great hexagram shaped stamp into an anodized titanium mirror. With my eyes closed I find myself awash in new visuals, great dark sigils and incomprehensible symbols emblazoned in colorful fire on a deep violet darkness. I feel like I am levitating, it feels so clean, so natural, like this is a logical extension of my consciousness. Streams and strands of thought wind out of my head and shoot off into the darkness like a rave turned ticker tape parade. The sense of constant motion carries such a distinct sense of direction, I feel like I am sailing down a winding road or a twisting turning river in the night, illuminated by the constellations above. This illusion too shatters when I try to consciously direct my attention elsewhere, collapsing into a pile of blocks and pixels. The sense of motion is swept out from under me with a sudden jerk and I feel like I am drifting along on what remaining momentum I have before coming to a floating, directionless stop in the abyss, a dimly glowing grid extending in all directions along all axes. There are little chills and tingles running through my bones.

I lay down the computer and decide to plug in headphones and listen to music and let myself fully drift off without any rousing. I place my laptop down on the far end of the bed and bask in its glow. It looks like a shining beacon a million miles away, pulsing and breathing as the screen collapses and extrudes into vitreous hopper crystals and stepped pyramids. Great drifting forms blossom and radiate in the darkness, buzzing and glowing and smoldering into the ceiling. I feel so radiant and alive, but at the same time I feel cold and dead, still and numb like a corpse on an autopsy table, ready for my mind to be picked apart by glowing tendrils and wires like probing herons.

T0:44- Much to my surprise I muster up the motor skill to take a single hit of cannabis from my one hitter. It is probably a miracle I didn’t unintentionally set anything on fire. I usually do this before letting myself succumb to a hole-though in this state the whole ritual feels alien and difficult to wrap my mind around.

My first choice of sound is my old favorite, Bituli by Paul Hares, a meandering 40 minute track of eerie glitchy distorted beats. I lie on my bed and close my eyes and begin the track, head spinning from the afterimages of the light of my phone, dancing and pulsing around my field of vision.

I sink into my bed and I am immediately embraced by the most immaculate and gentle softness, a steady pressure on all sides like there is memory foam inflating slowly around my entire body. It is a heavenly sensation, I quickly feel cocooned, a limbless and entirely still being encased in a plush sarcophagus. I am strapped into the ride. Once I am fully cocooned, I face the next step of the process, the motion, the journey. I feel like I am climbing towards the peak of a roller coaster inside a tunnel that unfolds before me, its walls adorned with regular patterns of patchy stucco in deep dull colors, there is always a gentle warm glow on the horizon. The patterns ripple and pulse and dance synesthetically to the music as I pick up speed, there is a sense of ascent and descent and of my gravity and friction shifting and reducing until it feels like I am levitating my way through space, still along some indiscernible floating track. So many twists and turns, the walls give way before me to a yawning black abyss, my path weaving in and out of great violet fluted pillars of light. The field of pillars grows and expands and multiplies infinitely into the distance as I pick up more and more speed. What a sensation! The visuals blend together as time passes and I have a hard time remembering specific images and sensations. It is an extensive and comprehensive virtual reality, replete with pleasant physical sensations and a sense of belonging, comfort, wonder and magic. This is where I am meant to be, it is okay for me to be here, I bought the ticket and took the ride and I am more than satisfied with my purchase. I stop and start, accelerate and slow down, my thoughts can’t focus on much more than the wonder and awe of the intensity of this experience. It is like a fully immersive virtual movie theater on the backs of my eyelids.

T1:00- I open my eyes after about 20 minutes and decide to change the music. What a journey this has been. It certainly feels like more time has passed than it really has. In the brief minutes that my eyes are open there is an array of colors, spots and dots and beams and bars and rods floating and spinning and twisting around me, bright and colorful and matte in texture.

I queue up different music- this time Black Moth Super Rainbow’s “Falling Through a Field”, an exercise in ethereal dreamy slightly unsettling pop, the sound of a misty forest at dawn while being stalked by colorful spirits. I close my eyes and am immediately spun into a cocoon again, wrapped with care in luxurious iridescent spider silk, in the way a great luminous phantom spider would gently wrap her eggs rather than her prey. I am greeted again by steady motion, visuals like the dappled shadows cast through trees, branching twisting forms in the skies above me like neon capillaries, the upper branches of trees reaching for the stars. I am encased in a great glowing triangle as I drift lazily through this beautiful and hazy land, the light of the forms around me illuminating untold colors twisted and tangled into the ground. The world is now and then illuminated by silent flashes and pulses of light with no discernible source, just a flash everywhere at once, a steady dissociating strobe that makes my motion skip and feel choppy.

My fingers are but odd little phalange bones, tight and dry in pastel colors. Recent memories drive through my skull, wash over my brain like a stream over rocks. They float by like clouds on a slight breeze, hazy and lazy in the sky. Brief images, words, conversations, pieced together from a regular week of work. I am careening through fog banks, tumbling on their gentle billows, it’s gentle and comfortable and fluffy, it feels like great soft fingers tenderly brushing my face. A gentle breeze is blowing.

I open my eyes in the dark again, met just with my laptop light. It is difficult to read the letters on my screen. I have double vision, and there are pulsing forms in the white space behind them. The different letters float a bit off the screen or sink into it at random intervals, making reading even more difficult.

T1:20- The dissociation is already taking a step down- my existence feels centered on my head, it is my gravitational core and all other parts of my form and consciousness are drawn towards it. My limbs and face still do not feel like they belong to me. Large stripes radiate and pulse down the empty white walls of my room. There is pressure on all sides of me, especially at every apex of my being. The whole world is shifted askew and spinning, there is less color, less of a sense of ‘travel’ or adventure, now it is just the vestiges of the peak’s ornate details spinning out into the void. Its depths are constantly running away from me and I am constantly pursuing it, but it always happens to just slip out of my fingers after the softest touch.

My open eyed visuals appear as phantom images, glares leftover from looking a the light of my screen, blocky and slowly and gracefully self transforming, built from the same sort of foam or plush that has characterized many of the substrates of this experience. Regular patterns of spots run across my vision. Every surface is adorned by the holographic dancing and swirling of wispy intertwined forms.

I am lucid for now, no longer is it that I am being bombarded by so much hallucinatory stimuli that I can’t stop to think or engage with objects. I am aware that I am sitting straight up, I am aware of where my body is, but it still feels like my skull has busted open to a cavity as vast as the night sky outside. The sensations on my skin are slow and soft like someone is dragging the most immaculate cashmere across my skin, or perhaps the airiest satin, leaving a slight numbness in its wake. These sensations consume me, they soon run up and down my skin and across my flesh like the hands of so many dissociative lovers. I just want to twist into them, roll around in them and revel in their touch, cuddle with it and feel its pressure against mine, bare body to bare body, tensing at the points of contact sharply drawing in my breath. I am exactly where I need to be. All I can do is writhe with pleasure, lie back and sigh as the ceiling strobes in dark colors above. I feel like I have fallen in love with this drug. As the experience continues to recede I promise them I will visit again soon, for another date.

T1:30- I stand up. It feels like my hands and feet are encased in lead, and then foam- So dense and heavy yet so soft and blocky. Moving isn’t too difficult, just a bit weird. Although I am no longer being dragged into the hole or caressed by the dissociative temptress, I am still distinctly and heavily dissociated. My fingers still feel foreign to me. My eyes are flashing and my flesh is numb. Sitting on my bed makes it feel as though my heartbeat is being amplified through the entire dark room, each thump illuminating a dull ripple across the dark walls.

There are no thoughts in my head- only a sense of awe at what I have just experienced. I don’t feel stimulated or anything, I am just sitting there on my bed, cradled by gentle clouds curling around me. The fields are still vast before me, a prismatic horizon just beyond my gaze, but I am content to be where I am, in this odd and vibrant world. The environment begins to decay and crumple, its vestiges raining to the ground in a fine snow and coating every surface. Grids begin to cascade down the walls faster and faster, like the cybernetic world of the MXiPr is draining from ours, they shared orbits so very briefly but now they must depart. The giddiness and excitement still flows through me, I wish I could take this ride again.

T1:50- I am neutral but for the most part, engaged in what I am doing but not quite with the manic energy some drugs can impart. I am still definitely and noticeably dissociated, though it doesn’t feel incapacitating. My limbs are still heavy, each movement like it is awash at sea. There is still a rush though it matches my pace and direction now. My heart flutters, my head feels light, It’s like walking away from a good bye hug after a first date with a life ruining crush. There is a soft color adjoined to everything though that also begins to slowly fade out.

As the awe fades and I begin to aimlessly scroll social media, I distinctly find myself able to read and engage in things coherently. Reading, engaging, experiencing, it all feels so delightful, I am filled with a desire to learn and expand myself into the world as far as possible. I feel like I can read about distant places, transport my mind there, a fully interactive adventure. I begin talking to one of my friends about bugs, a topic I am extremely passionate about, and my focus feels acute, my typed words articulate, my intentions direct and crystalline clear. I am certain I drenched the poor person into one of my signature extremely cumbersome infodumps. I feel so jovial and fun and competent, reminiscent of the comedown of a psychedelic but with less stimulation.

T2:15- Feeling more functional, my mind is still in a state of gentle bliss and intense focus. I am working on writing a piece and I find it easy to record my thoughts eloquently and articulately. This feels like an excellent drug for driving creative endeavors, though it lacks the intrinsic drive and stimulation of other highly functional dissociatives like 3-MeO-PCE. The state of the comedown is in fact more analytical than creative , and perhaps it could serve some sort of purpose in that capacity. Nonetheless, it is extremely enjoyable and I am further excited thinking about the ways this property can be utilized in the future.

T3:00- Further and further down, eyes cast onto my screen, the slightest little visuals still dance to and fro. My lights are back on and I am reading things on the internet and talking to friends. I step outside to gaze out into the vast country night. It’s chilly, the moon is obscured by clouds as are many of the stars. A chorus of night insects and owls ripples through the landscape. I feel glued to where I am, bound by the smell of the grass and the mist and the monolithic cloak of the sky. All I can do is stand there and gaze, boots sinking into the grass, the sky breathes and pulses, I am just another part of the vast earth with all of its vast features and lifeforms.

T4:40- I smoke some cannabis to see if it stirs the dust much. It does not, the experience has mostly quietly let itself pass, a wisp of glitter in its wake. I still feel quite alert and my mind feels like a well-oiled machine, efficiently and objectively processing thoughts.

T5:30- The experience has all but subsided at this point.

Conclusion: MXiPr is an ambrosia, a glistening food for the gods. Those are steep words, but in my experiences it has proven to be truly something spectacular at the given dose. In any dissociative that presents an interesting hallucinatory experience there are a number of pitfalls that can be hit- low potency, excess stimulation or mania, or excess sedation. MXiPr misses almost all of these- it is an exciting adventurous hallucinatory journey through virtual reality, a roller coaster ride or a joyride in a little plane plane above a technicolor canyon, all replete with a genuine sense of motion and travel. It is a compact and self-contained experience that explodes in a shockwave of gossamer gems, a prismatic windstorm that carries the user to a far-off land. I for one find it delightful. It is a full body type of dissociation, highly physically incapacitating, mentally quite stimulating, and with a touch of euphoria and mania but not in excessive. It is extremely visual for a dissociative, both with eyes opened or closed. Best experienced in the dark. The physical sensations are overwhelmingly soft, comfortable, and pleasant. The headspace lends itself to analysis and wonder, and during the comedown the mind feels focused, efficient, and well-structured. It is a wonderful substance at this dose, and I am excited to see what it offers at both higher and lower doses. If it performs well at lower doses it may be a contender for my top spot. The only gripe I have would be the short duration- it burns hot and fast.

As for what everyone is really asking- How does it compare to MXE? It’s a different drug, and there is nothing wrong with that. There is a similar sense of awe and wonder, a similar rush and sense of pleasant cold. As mentioned before it is highly visual, both with eyes opened or closed, and it has a similar sense of motion and journey to MXE. It lacks a lot of the mass and power that MXE packed however, is significantly less stimulating and much more a drug for relaxing on a soft surface (though I have not yet played with low doses so this may be subject to amendment). Perhaps what I found it most similar to was the personal favorite combination of MXPr and 3-MeO-PCE, which is a moot comparison as very few have tread that road. That however, also lends a dazzling synesthetic adventurous experience, wrapped in a silken cocoon with steady motion (albeit a longer duration). The major difference also is its unfortunately brief duration. Going into the future I would love to see the PCiPr backbone explored further- perhaps something like 3-MeO-PCiPr, 3-HO-PCiPr, 2’-Oxo-PCiPr, 3-Me-PCiPr or 3-Cl-PCiPr.

Exp Year: 2020	ExpID: 114917
Gender: Not Specified
Age at time of experience: 25
Published: Feb 10, 2020	Views: 3,039
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MXiPr (923) : First Times (2), Music Discussion (22), Alone (16)