Citation: nervewing. "The Violet Curtain: An Experience with 1V-LSD (exp115745)". Erowid.org. Sep 24, 2021. erowid.org/exp/115745
||(blotter / tab)
Preface: 1V-LSD, also dubbed “Valerie” was debuted on the coattails of a German ban on novel psychoactive substances. The design of 1V-LSD exploits a loophole in the law (which I will not detail here), making the structure not explicitly illegal in consumer markets across the world, particularly in Germany, which has a generous portion of European research chemical consumers. The name comes from the 5-chain carbonyl group on N1, sometimes also referred to as a “Valeroyl” group.
Structurally, 1V-LSD is yet another N1-carbonyl-substituted lysergamide, meaning it has the structure of LSD but some sort of carbonyl group is attached to the nitrogen in the 1 position. There are several drugs like this already on the market, like 1F-LSD, ALD-52, 1P-LSD, 1B-LSD and 1cP-LSD, and they all have something in common. There is robust evidence that one of these compounds, 1P-LSD, is a prodrug for LSD, meaning the user consumes the analogue, their body transforms the analogue into LSD, and that LSD goes to the brain. While not fully confirmed, it can be safely assumed that this same process occurs with the rest of the N-1-substituted lysergamides. In simpler words- if you attach the right molecule to the N-1 position of an LSD molecule, your body will snip that off and send regular LSD to your brain.
This offers an experience supposedly similar to that of LSD, but starting with an unscheduled analogue. There is heated debate as to whether all of these 1-substituted prodrugs simply offer a standard LSD experience or if they have a character of their own. The influence of set and setting further confound any attempts to consistently characterize this. I believe that the series of 1-substituted lysergamides do indeed offer unique experiences and have a unique character- perhaps through a sort of incomplete metabolism, but that is purely subjective anecdotal conjecture. Further rigorous study in this area is necessary.
Otherwise, these 1-substituted LSD prodrugs do clearly differ in potency, likely owing to pharmacokinetics. All are less potent than LSD. There seems to be no clear pattern in how extending the carbonyl chain affects potency, with potency varying wildly across 1,2,3,4, and now 5 carbon chains. I found 1V-LSD to be remarkably potent, befuddling any pattern that could be observed (the 3-carbon chain nears LSD in potency, the 4 Carbon chain sees a sharp potency drop- makes little sense!).
It is also worth mentioning that a sample labeled as “1V-LSD” was sent to a third party testing service in Europe which detected the cathinone A-D2PV in addition to an unknown compound. As far as I know there is only one commercial supplier of 1V-LSD. However the sample submitted was in the form of powder, and this supplier does not offer powder, further confusing the situation. Nevertheless, I still decided to take the risk of ingesting my sample, which had already been laid onto blotter, at 150 µg apiece. It’s worth nothing that A-D2PV is nowhere near potent enough to reach a threshold dosage on blotter, and even if it was a contaminant in this sample, the amount I would be ingesting would not be enough to trigger any detectable effects.
As mentioned before, the potency of 1V-LSD really stood out to me. This was unexpected among the field of other N1-substituted lysergamides. I would even dare to say its potency comes close to that of actual LSD, assuming the product was properly dosed.
My experience was visual, dreamy, contemplative and gentle, though there was always a pervasive intensity lurking beneath.
My experience was visual, dreamy, contemplative and gentle, though there was always a pervasive intensity lurking beneath.
I had a delightful experience even though I didn’t do very much or engage in any particularly exciting activities. It was an excellent drug for being confined to a comfortable space, a wonder for contemplating a sanctuary, it had emotional depth and insight that made me content to just sit in the dark and think. Visuals formed organically from surfaces I cast my eyes upon, they were vivid and pleasant. The full report follows.
T0:00- Dose taken. I am in the house where I grew up, completely alone save for my cat. It is a warm late-summer afternoon.
T0:30- Nothing to note but some abdominal discomfort.
T0:45- Effects developing in a typical psychedelic comeup, shaking a lot, a bit of nausea and discomfort.
T0:50- At this point the experience is mostly stimulation. My limbs are shaking, a distinct sense of buzzing and high frequency vibration starts to work its way through my body, somewhat pleasant relative to the other physical effects raging through me right now. Visuals begin to become apparent, gentle drifting textures on rough surfaces.
T1:15- Effects feel as though they are cresting and crashing over, glistening tracers follow my every movement, blurring my field of vision with buzzing neon outlines that reverberate into disintegration. The visual intensity has welled up so suddenly that I almost forget my discomforts. Everything shakes and wobbles as beams of light trace their way across every edge and vertex and line in my sight like fluorescent veins or vines pulsing and breathing to intensify their grip my surroundings, gently and amiably. Patterns start to form on the walls, infinite reliefs reminiscent of Mesoamerican art, twisting and interlocking and fringed by a gentle green and pink glow that ripples through space. I am encased in a heavenly amethyst temple. There is a density to the visuals like the world sags under the weight of their fervor. It is an ocean swirling with life, every cubic centimeter packed with bustling psychedelic plankton swirling and weaving among each other in dense blocks of patterned, all-consuming life force from the violet core of the earth.
I sit back and close my eyes, I am immersed in a vast empire of forms, of visuals-towering pyramids twisting and tessellating and interlocking, concentric rings of color pulsing down their faces, great writhing undulating faunal automata as a backdrop, their edges blossoming into impossible interlocking fractals that swirl and twist In unison with their writhing cores. Not truly alive but automata in organic motion, per Conway’s Game of Life, all moving and interacting to the boundaries of their mathematic predestinies. Their timeless dance adorned by scaled, radiating patterns, repeating themselves off into a golden glowing infinity, all bubbling and swirling and coalescing, forming and adapting around the random bits of chaos that bubble up to disrupt the consistent patterns. This space is vast, fascinating, intricate, and engrossing. I find it hard to pull myself away from this expansive ecosystem of twisting inanimate visual monuments turning and throbbing against one another. These great pillars, radiating glassy energy, tensing their sinew as they wrap and twist and clutch and bend, a tense, undulating ballet of deep amethystine and chalcedonous forms, rippling with vitreous bands. The detail, the perfect placement of every single element, the seemingly cosmic harmony of these interacting forms is sublime, it fills my core with golden light to see such perfect balance maintained in perpetual motion. I am engrossed, I am mesmerized, I wish I could sit and watch this masterpiece of geometric interactions for an eternity- there are always more intricate fractal boundaries being drawn between forms, there are always more little automata arising and surviving in this intricate garden of perpetually self-transforming forms. I am absolutely enraptured. Radiating palmettos flash to the apices of everything like fireworks or corona discharge crackling into the air. Deep, sublime beauty.
T1:30- I am just flopping around in my bed, relinquishing myself to the steady deluge of deep violet and teal visuals that carry my essence along, abstract glowing forms bobbing in the water as the ceiling ripples overhead. My beloved cat comes to say hello- I could not be more excited.
We adopted this cat in high school after my first major episode with mental illness. It was a kind gesture, a vain attempt to get me to stop harming myself. My parents didn’t think that my idea to name the cat “Stripes” was very funny, so he took another name. My depression didn’t go away and neither did the self-harm, But now at least I could share my space with an adorable, clever, affectionate creature who I loved dearly. That was 7 years ago. He is much larger now, feisty, chatty, assertive and overall, very large and goofy. I feel sad that I have spent so much time apart from him after moving off to college and growing into adulthood. I hope he remembers me and likes me. I am grateful we can share this time together.
He jumps up on the bed and snuggles up with me, I love him so dearly and he is being incredibly affectionate, forcing himself to be as close to me as possible. I give him belly rubs, chin scritches, scritches behind the ears, all of his favorites. He looks at me with those big sweet grey inquisitive eyes.
His stripey tail swishes and I see steady bands of pink and blue and violet and green tracers follow suit. I can see flits and glimmers of visuals appear around his head, little neon flutters and faint colored forms twisting upwards into the darkness like incense smoke. It is like his head is surrounded by little dancing sprites, a celebration of his calm, confused benevolence. I hug him tightly and feel the rapids of energy ring around us in the air above, glistening in a pale orange and cascading iridescent gossamer scale upon us. This is the place to be, curled up with my dear friend, under a steady downpour of illusory neon flower pedals, our breaths in unison as a peaceful aurora flutters gracefully around us and our bond.
T2:00- The room is dim now as the sun sinks in the sky. In the dark places are forming 3-dimensional polyhedra, extending and receding into the surfaces on which they form. I am entranced with this, pulled into a daze in whatever new and exciting way the experience catches my attention.
There is a benevolent sense of presence, a warm and comforting light glowing behind the visuals, a friendly sort of backlighting. I am still a bit nauseous and smoke a bit of cannabis to settle my stomach.
The experience is intense and profound, even in the darkness and silence I feel like my time is fulfilled just through depth and detail of thought, though I frankly have nothing in particular to engage with that would make this feel even more worthwhile.
T2:20- I have now just been pacing around the house. I spent the majority of my life in this house but it has been altered and reshaped to be near unrecognizable to me. This is still the physical space in which I grew up, it is still the same walls, the same layout, some of the same furniture, but it’s entirely different, it’s near incomprehensible. The rooms where I slept and lived in my childhood converted into utility spaces, the space rearranged so that it no longer needed to cater to a family. All the past and life I had spent here was a ghost, sculpted only from what memories I could still cling to. I could never go back. No one can ever go back to that sense of wonder they have as a child, no one can ever recreate just how big the spaces they experienced in their formative years felt, no one can ever undo how small these spaces are as a lumbering adult. I am pacing around, visiting dark empty rooms time and time again, angling for memories, angling for some connection to my past self, but they aren’t there. It’s all buried, hidden, lost to history. I am unanchored and adrift.
The visuals still rage like a pounding thunderstorm, crests and surges of effects washing over me, the sweet waters drawing into my mouth and swirling around my head. I feel like I am treading water in a vast sea, the undulating waves stained a triumphant violet by the fires of the setting sun, there is glistening beauty in each cap and ripple, and endless swallowing unknowing and loss on all sides of me, inevitably pulling me under. It is hard to read at times, there are ripples and stripes around the letters on me screen, familiar characters altering into strange glyphs that camp at some uncanny valley of hardly discernible language.
T4:00- I go out and sit on the porch in the blue hour of dusk. Lights flicker on one by one as the night takes the earth. The sound of cicadas is deafening, a pulsing wall of sound signaling summer’s retreat. It is peaceful here, I am on the porch but I am still wary of neighbors like a nervous animal ready to dash into its burrow at the slightest disturbance. I close my eyes and lose myself to the reverberation of hordes of great insects stridulating for a mate, I find myself immersed in a vast synesthetic space of great violet cascades and curtains waving and pouring down, coming from nothing, flowing to nothing. I open my eyes and the world heaves and recedes in great breaths, swirling and twisting and flowing at its extremities, illusory technicolor winds smearing my vision about.
I feel aimless and purposeless, but I am mostly at peace with that. I have nothing to do tonight. Nothing to engage with, no one to interact with, nowhere to go and nowhere to be. I am excited at the privilege of being able to sample this novel compound and have this novel experience but that is about all the fulfillment I can get. Perhaps my old depression is just creeping in again. I feel too anxious and altered to go out and possibly be in public, the porch is the extent of exposure I’m willing to risk. I resign myself to just be comfortable, familiar, to just pace the house and exist here. There’s nothing wrong with merely existing.
T4:45- I haven’t eaten much today but I don’t feel any sense of hunger. I would say I am starting to come down now, the headspace feels lighter and less demanding. There are still intense flashes of visuals, patterns crawling across the walls and reflecting their iridescence at me. They are pleasant and welcome. I pace the house trying to find some meaningful way to occupy my time and space.
T5:20- I pick a random movie on Netflix- a 3 hour long historical epic called “Saladin the Victorious”, made in Egypt in 1963. The film is in Arabic and the voices seem to be dubbed over. They are strange to me, the spoken words seemingly coming from all around me rather than from the people speaking them. It’s a curious effect. The cinematography is beautiful, the colors are vibrant and saturated and the scale is grand and momentuous. It came from Egypt in the 1960’s, with a tale of uniting the Arab people to drive out Westerners from the Levant. The allegory and moralization is heavy handed but it’s a fun way to pack away 3 hours. I smoke some more cannabis to try and work up an appetite but it doesn’t do much. I am definitely on the downward slope of the experience and I feel like I am becoming more lucid by the minute.
T6:30- The movie still goes on. It’s very long and I take breaks to go the bathroom or get water. I have climbed down from the peak substantially now, though the experience still rages.
T7:00- A headache is setting in. Still riding a long, slow descent.
T8:40 The movie has ended, I feel like I am mostly back to baseline save for a stimulated afterglow. The ship has for the most part sailed. I am left in the dark alone with my thoughts, which still flow steadily and uninhibited. I am mostly enraptured with thoughts of how much my social connections have withered, how I have failed to cultivate so many of my relationships and how I have put so little into them and how they have faded to nothing. I have lost so many friends to simple indifference and inactivity. I don’t have the energy or motivation to maintain relationships, I am mostly concerned with just being alone and getting high. There are so many people I love who I fail to express that to. I am not sure what brought about this line of thought but this is certainly a substance for ruminating and drawing out ideas and patterns. I am grateful for the people I have managed to keep in my life despite being aloof and avoidant and reclusive. Oh well.
T10:30- Back to baseline now.
The saga continues of developing a steadily growing chain of carbons to affix to the N-1 position of the LSD molecule. Now we are out to 5 carbons, so what does this mean?
The whole debate about prodrugs aside I will describe the experience as thus:
It was a drawn out lysergamide experience, dominated by cool colors, deep violets and teals and blues like the depths of the ocean. I was prone to pondering, contemplating, I found myself mostly just wanting to turn inwards and think about myself and the reality contained within as opposed to interacting with the environment. The comeup was stimulating, but that gave way to a languid drowse, where I was content to just splay out on surfaces in the dark and just think about things. There was no motivation or impetus to go outside to get up or do any activity. I was adrift in a great violet pool and I could choose to swim in whichever direction I wanted, towards all varieties of vibrant prismatic shores. Or I could choose to just float in the swirling galactic abyss, a curtain of shimmering Tyrian Purple. There were no strong compulsions throughout the experience, I was content to be drawn into the interplay of the visual and cognitive space, to play amongst their cryptic gardens. Should I choose to feel more grounded, it was profound and introspective, perhaps touching a little too much upon my latent depressive tendencies. It was a vast amoeba, pouring the intensity of its amorphous mass where I directed it to. It was a good time for just siting and pondering.
Visually, there were typical lysergamides patterns, graceful yet rough-hewn reliefs forming on the walls reminiscent of Mesoamerican glyphs, twisting and intertwining in baths of color. Violets, magentas, streaks of electric green but mostly deep teals and great stormy oceanic blues dominated the visual space. Fronds, palmettos, interlocking and intertwining sinuous forms replete with ocular adornments dominated the visual space, cast against a backdrop of twisting telescoping fractal pyramids. I was absolutely entranced by the space revealed with eyes closed, an intricate ecosystem of self-transforming autonomous forms in constant swirling, tense undulating motion, like lovers gripped in ecstasy, like a densely packed swarm of animals moving in constrained unison. It was mesmerizing. Auditory effects mostly came as reverberations and dissociation from their source. It was hard to place where any sound was coming from.
Physical effects were typical amounts of lysergamides nausea, tension, and shaking, with a distinct and pleasant buzz through my bones. This mostly receded as the peak crested over.
Whether or not this is just another avenue to experience LSD or if it is something wholly of its own, I think it is a worthwhile novel compound to explore that offers insight, contemplation, and a gentle, deep intensity. A 225 µg dose is substantial to reveal the character of this compound.
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