Citation: nervewing. "Dazzled and Disoriented: An Experience with 4-HO-PiPT & Cannabis (exp115791)". Erowid.org. Sep 17, 2021. erowid.org/exp/115791
Preface: 4-HO-PiPT is pretty straightforward as far as tryptamines go and was probably an inevitable development. Propyl groups have been paired with Methyl, Ethyl, and other Propyl groups. (MPT, EPT, and DPT respectively). Isopropyl groups have also been paired with Methyl, Ethyl, and other Isopropyl groups (MiPT, the elusive EiPT, and DiPT). It was a matter of time before they would get matched with each other, yielding PiPT. PiPT, 4-HO-PiPT, and 5-MeO-PiPT found their way onto the market at around the same time but commanded little interest and saw little use or demand. It was only recently that samples of them crossed my path.
The one I was most excited to try was 4-HO-PiPT. In any base tryptamine thereís a general pattern, where the base compound has an intense (and sometimes fairly mild) unique character, the 5-MeO analogue tends to be less visual and more intensive in the body, and the 4-HO/4-AcO analogue yields more of a well rounded visual and traditional psychedelic experience. So of course, in the name of seeking something satisfactory, I went for 4-HO-PiPT first.
The basics is that it was short and intense, confusing and hard to comprehend with a strong visual edge and bodyload. It was a strange and worthwhile experience though it did not particularly stand out among its other 4-substituted tryptamine compatriots. (For reference I have tried 4AcO/HO-MET, 4-AcO/HO-DET, 4-AcO-MPT, 4-HO/AcO-EPT, 4-AcO/HO-DPT, 4-HO/AcO/MeO-MiPT, 4-HO-DiPT, and 4-HO-MALT). Full report follows, tl;dr conclusion at the end.
T0:00- Dose taken on a mostly empty stomach.
T0:30- feeling a bit anxious and restless. There is an odd sense of flow and weight in my body almost like I have taken a dissociative, though it lacks in the analgesia and mental sense of dissociation. It's as if I'm made of a heavy syrup.
There is some abdominal discomfort now and I am starting to shake my limbs. I find it hard to sit still, there is a compulsion to stand up and pace around.
T0:50- There lot of swirling sickness, tension in my head tugging at my abdomen. Itís like the drug is plucking on my vagus nerve like a harpstring. Visuals arise suddenly with great intensity, building to a peak seemingly out of nowhere as discomfort continues to tremble its way up my limbs. My laptop screen is pulsing with bright concentric flashes in the dark of my room, iridescent like an oil slick on the night. Pareidolic forms emerge from the walls, great stoic, empty faces cast in a deep turquoise and violet glow, blank inhuman expressions of unfeeling colossi. Veins of neon flow between them. Each black word on the white screen ripples with concentric bands of dark and light colors. The nausea is at points overwhelming
T1:00- My enormous cat comes into the room, he runs right up to me and snuggles against me. He seems to be feeling very affectionate. He is huge and soft and his heavy breathing is soothing to the soul. His purrs murmur in the air, synesthetic vibrations of color buzzing above him like flies.
I am shaking a lot. This is all so so much more intense than I was expecting, the closed eyed visual space is absurd, cartoony, nonsensical and animated with waving, pulsing, dancing metallic forms with fields of tracers, swirling movement, cast in an orange backlight. Everything is reverberating and repeating itself into a higher frequency, everything is accelerating exponentially within my skull. With my eyes open, there are mostly just contours and concentric forms adorning every surface and object, they are basic and matter-of-fact yet also vivid and intense. Some of the rings break off and bud and generate autonomous amorphous blobs that slowly drift around my field of vision like great psychedelic clouds. Itís hard to meditate on much or think about much, there isnít a drive towards insight and introspection, it is mostly disorienting and confusing.
I try smoking a bit of cannabis to try and take the edge off of the nausea but I canít kick it. Everything is in constant motion, like sitting in a little boat that is being tossed about like a vicious storm.
There is no euphoria, but there is a disquieting sense of presence. The experience is random and hard to comprehend but it feels intentional, like it is driven by the whims of some mad god. It is like sharing the room with a very large octopus that is staring right at me, there is intelligence and sentience there, but it is hidden under a veil of incomprehensible alien presence, a mind that has arisen from an entirely separate evolutionary lineage.
T1:20- My stomach still hurts a good bit. All I can really do is lie here and think about it. Itís hard to really think about anything else beyond my direct experience: the dizzying and spinning fantastic forms, the feelings of my body, my immediate surroundings as my senses can detect. I feel distant and detached. Nothing in the house feels like a worthwhile occupation of my time- perhaps going for a walk will stir something in this experience.
T1:30- It is twilight, the sky glows a distant blue as the velvety night descends on the world. A mist hangs in the air, glowing in the last vestiges of sunlight, glowing with the beaming streetlights and houselights that begin to flicker on. The mist swirls and pulses around me, great concentric and contoured spheres rippled in chromatic iridescence.
There was little fear or consternation in leaving the comfort of the house to be exposed in public. Hardly anyone is out and about. I am cast with a grave indifference anyways, my head is too dissociated and spun out to worry about things or feel any stake in any sort of anxiety.
The night is quiet but for a chorus of crickets. The same trees are cast over the same night sky I grew up with. Where I once ran under their branches and picked up fallen sticks and swung them around I now nervously pace, the world rippling as I pass. I walk the same route I would take to elementary school from my house every day. Well into my adulthood I could cut through my old school to avoid the winding suburban roads around it, but to my dismay I find the whole school has been locked down, with a high fence and a sturdy gate. I guess I canít go back. This is a striking thing to see but I donít dwell on it, all I can do is keep moving. What is the point of thinking even? Falling into thought is just not something that concerns me in this state. All I can do is walk, experience, observe: catching snippets of conversations from people out on their own properties on this still and luscious gorgeous night, working on a car in their driveway, having a bonfire in the yard, pulling up and unloading groceries, a whole world alive and in motion around me. A sense of wonder is generated from this, a sensation of being one marble rolling down a hill amongst a multitude of other balls and marbles and spheres, all with a certain undeniable destination, all not knowing what interactions, experiences, collisions and separations will happen between each other as they face the unstoppable force of gravity.
T2:00- The land heaves a sigh. I walk to a park a few train stops down from my house and sit on a bench. Itís a cool night in the late summer so the night sounds are mostly just simple bush and field crickets. Itís a peaceful lullaby. It feels nice to sit still. There is no compulsion to move, there is little energy in my limbs, but there isnít much compulsion to sit still either. I am content to just be here, experiencing this night, the sounds, the smells, the glistening taste of the humid air as a furious summer recedes. I am surrounded by darkness, but the visual effects that so flourished in the shadows have also for the most part receded. I am definitely more lucid now, my mind is taken into strings of thought and ponderance rather than the scrambled confusion it had to bear before. It feels nice to settle back into myself, this is a pleasant afterglow. I get a surprise phone call from someone who would not be pleased about me being on drugs, but I keep my composure and manage to sound sober through the phone. I feel sober too, I really donít feel too far off baseline, this was such a brief experience. I wish I had people to interact with, even strangers to strike up friendly conversation with, but the streets are deserted and the only people I see seem engrossed in their tasks and probably donít want to be disturbed.
As the drug recedes and coherency returns I feel haughty and arrogant. I want to present myself, display myself, show myself to the world, this self that I have spent a lifetime carefully crafting and assembling and patching together, an uncoordinated mishmash with no discernible core. But it can look pretty at the very least. But alas, there is no one, there is nothing, there is just me and the night and the trees, the lights of the town as I walk down the main street, families and bar regulars loitering on the sidewalks, indeed they are people but in this state they feel like set pieces, something to be ignored as they wonít feed into my solipsistic arrogance. What a dreadful person to be! Perhaps itís good that I donít have anyone to talk to right now, I would make a fool of myself. I need to check myself. I should just go home.
T2:50- Return home, I am almost back to baseline save for some residual stimulation and discomfort. This was a disorienting fireworks show, I am not sure if I gained anything meaningful from the last few hours though it was distinctly jarring. I idle around my house for a few hours, the comedown is a long and slow and steady plateau, the last echoes of such a lively and vibrant peak.
T5:00- Entirely back to baseline
Conclusion: 4-HO-PiPT was oddly intense in some respects, mild in others. The visual space was an explosion of forms and energy, great iridescent blue ripples with my eyes open and a world of vibrant metallic glowing forms, twisting and dancing with my eyes closed. It was overwhelming at points and made me content to be alone in my room for the peak. The headspace is odd- for the most part disorienting and confusing. There felt little space to ponder or introspect, I was taken by the sensory overload and was left in an empty daze. As the experience receded this was replaced by a pleasant mindfulness, a compulsion to be present and really only consider my immediate surroundings and circumstances. Perhaps this phase of the experience could be of some value, though the peak was incomprehensible and offered little beyond novelty. The sheer alien-ness of the experience allayed a lot of potential anxiety and hesitation, it was very easy to merely exist and be content with that fact, along for a ride in which I felt I had little control. Surrendering to the experience felt like the right thing to do. The bodyload was heavy and unpleasant, particularly in a weighted nausea that persisted for most of the experience. It was remarkably short in duration, reaching the peak in under an hour and passing into the comedown just about 30-40 minutes after that. The comedown was a steady and lucid plateau with pleasant emotional effects. I was able to easily exist in public by that point.
It is hard to draw comparisons to other tryptamines, it was perhaps reminiscent of the 4-substituted DET analogues, in its short lasting and fiery intensity, the visuals were reminiscent of 4-HO-DiPT, and the gleefully esoteric headspace at times reminded me of DPT. But those are null comparisons if one hasnít tried those drugs, ultimately it is a unique compound of its own, an interesting novelty that burns short and hot and bright and dazzles the brain.
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