The Potato Cakes of the Damned

Hello friend, I would like to report back on a couple of rather different mushroom experiences I have had the privilege to enjoy over the last few days. Please keep in mind I am a fairly careless person, and can exhibit a sincere and unintentional lack of perception at times. Vitals at time of experience: 26 y.o., male, reasonably fit and healthy.

Experience 1.
    
Having finally found some precious psilocibe subaeruginosa after a couple of days of hunting, which were generously identified by two members of this very forum, I was raring to trip and how. I was somewhat unprepared for this trip, not taking any time to meditate on that which I was about to subject myself, which I had in fact done the last time I took a hit of salvia divinorum extract and enjoyed a delightful and relaxing experience. I consume 17g of the mushrooms, straight down the hatch, having eaten a breakfast of two English muffins earlier that day. After a couple of hours, I was convinced that I had taken on a psychedelic mindset but that the mushrooms were not really working as they should. I was not seeing any tracers, visuals, CEVs etc. Despite the fact that the mushrooms were no doubt still kicking in and the fact that I rarely experience much hallucinatory visual action anyway, I decide to have a bong hit of weed to try and ease my dissatisfaction, this does seem to bring a bit of gravity to the experience.

At this stage I receive a call back from my friend whom had missed four of my calls earlier that day when I was all excited-like after my discovery, who was keen to come around and smoke some ganj with me, not so on the mushrooms though. He, as a veteran tripper, suggested that I grab another handful of mushrooms and down it to hopefully bring about more visuals, I take another good 10g of mushrooms even though I am aware that by this stage they are more likely to extend the duration, rather than intensity, of the trip. My friend arrives and at first I feel pretty normal, albeit spaced and baked, but soon the fun begins. Conversation with my friend, while enjoyable, was defined by lack of concentration, confusion and laughing when I was obviously not supposed to be, eg when he informs me that his employer has underpaid him and he doesn't really have enough money to live on for the next week, bwahahaha! I love those occasions which I like to call 'psychedelic moments' one has with mushrooms, looking out the corner of the eye at my pal to see him just sitting there, really, and cracking up, or looking at him with great suspicion. Great!

I honestly do not think I was prepared for the purity and subtlety of this trip. I had a wonderful time staring at the scrunched up paper bag into which the mushrooms had been originally dropped, I could see a beautiful pattern in the wrinkles of paper, with very fine lines of what I can best describe as a flow of data, like a DNA strand but with what looks to be letters and symbols. I also spent some time just staring at a mushroom, giggling gleefully like Jet on that episode of the animation Cowboy Bebop (for all the nerds out there). The DJ on radio Double J kindly played some old school sounding psychedelic music from contemporary bands Foxygen and The Babe Rainbow, this was just magnificent, really. After my friend left I spent a lot of time staring at the pattern in my previously un-patterned carpet, eventually laying down so I could watch the 'data flow' in amongst the intricate pattern. I sat behind the couch at one point, just letting it all wash over me. I was pretty much gone. I finally smoked a few more cones and went to bed, CEVs were mostly vague letters as seen in the data flow, along with washed out rainbows. This is as represented against the solid black which is all I usually see whence I close mine eyes, no real issue with getting to sleep.

Experience 2.

I wake around 11AM and decide to head back to the precious mushroom patch to see if anything has transpired overnight. I collect another 10g of mushrooms and on the way home decide that I want to trip again, today, right now. I remember reading that tolerance grows quickly with this substance but throw caution to the wind and take the 10 fresh grammes along with enough of the previous day's harvest, which had been drying in front of a fan overnight, to equal what would be 20g fresh, so that's 30 in all by my count. I sit down to watch The Cube, a rather spooky and claustrophobic film, within around 30-40 mins I am feeling uncomfortable and am starting to think this has been a bad idea overall. I ignore a phone call from my family, which I have no intention of answering, but feel dismayed that I'm going to be sitting here all day looking and feeling like a crazy person instead of spending time with them, or going skateboarding, or enjoying a movie, or to be honest anything on the planet other than sitting there feeling like 'that' all day. What ever happened to 'go with it' I don't know.

I call my best friend for comfort, as I really feel like I have blown it. He is great to talk to but is at work and unable to talk for long. My friend from last night is not answering his phone. I decide to get out of the house as it looks dirtier, dingier and more like a cell than it ever has before. Glowing patterns are appearing on the carpet before my eyes but I'm too bummed out to appreciate them. I don't like how my skin looks when I look in the mirror and I look haggard, wild. What happened to the four months of clean living I had enjoyed from the start of this year? The cheeks are no longer sunken but after the last month of old habits I get the feeling that if I don't do something more positive with my life soon I will return to my previous skeletal appearance. I throw on some trackies and an old jacket, along with some out of fashion shades and a faded cap and stagger out into the sunlight. I walk past one of my workmates' houses and, despite this guy being too much of a motormouth (at 50!), I am desperate for someone to talk to. No answer at the door. I stroll onwards to the skate park and feel sickened by the feral children running around while their mother pays no attention to their screams. I stroll further to a walking track surrounding a man made lake, disgusted by the world around me and the farcical situation myself into which I have placed. All of a sudden my phone rings, it is my friend from last night who is coincidentally about to walk the very track I am pacing. We meet up and I explain how unhappy I feel, he gives me a cigarette and a few coins to get me by while he heads onward to the shops, as I left the house practically empty-handed.

I walk to a nearby fish 'n' chip shop and nearly heave as I walk in and feel the dankness of the establishment and smell the filth in which they are deep fat frying the life out of innocent foodstuffs. Already waiting is a disgusting blob of a man who probably eats here on a tri-daily basis. I force myself to order a few potato cakes from their menu and sit through some torturous, soul crushing chit-chat with the gentlemen in the shop about how not too bad the weather is etc. The fish 'n' chipper eventually hands me a bag from which such a vile odour escapes that I consider just dumping the thing altogether, but since I have eaten pretty much nothing but magic mushrooms the last two days I take the package and head back to the lake for lunch and contemplation. I take two bites of the rancid cakes of filth but am able to eat no more, my mouth is far too dry and there is no hint of potato, anywhere. I laugh at the despair of my situation. The greens of the plant life around me, the blue of the sky, are far too garish to look at with pleasure, and I just feel too bummed to enjoy any novelty value the altered colours may bring. I look at the people dragging their tired, middle aged corpses along the walking track, and see the motionless, soulless drones sitting in their cars staring at this false water feature, apparently waiting patiently to die. I am pretty much convinced that I recognise some of these cars from a previous bad trip when I came to this exact spot to try and work out why half an acid tab was so unenjoyable. I feel oppressed, squashed by my surroundings, sickened at the apathy of the people around me. How can anyone be so optimistic as to enjoy this, I wonder. I decide that all I can do is to head home and get baked, that will have to do at this stage. I head home, experiencing something akin to pleasure upon trashing the vile fried potato mash, again knocking at the door of my older workmate on the way. Back inside the place looks dingier than ever. I am close to tears with despair, my stomach is churning and my body is weak with hunger and that feeling is still there. I can't bring myself to even chop some weed, it feels like it would be a cop out. Instead I open the curtains and take the washing off the line which has been hanging for over a week, and toast some English muffins with cheese and vegemite. This, usually a favourite meal of mine takes on the consistency of a dry glu-stik in my mouth, but, crying tears of defiance, and laughing at the pitiable nature of my existence, I chew and swallow the muffins over a 40 minute period. I am feeling a new appreciation for the term rock bottom, which is actually quite motivating, really. It can't get any worse than this.  

And I'm right. My mate is back home from the shops and I feel OK enough to head round his place, and damn it I'm skateboarding there if it kills me. As I set off on the roughly 3km journey I still feel sketchy as hell but surprisingly I have the balance required to at least roll down the footpath. As I ride along I feel the most amazing feeling, like the weight of the last few hours lifting from my shoulders. Being back on my board is an amazing feeling, and soon the afternoon sun is shining and I feel the most appreciation for being alive I have ever felt. Arriving at my mate's place I look at him and immediately tell him how liberated I am finally feeling. I apologise to him for earlier in the year when I was not always available for him when he was going through tough times with his girlfriend. I actually don't feel like I'm tripping at this stage, and we just hang out for a bit, me feeling on top of the world. I comment that I feel like a real person, a feeling that I haven't felt since I used to live in the city with my best mates, when fun, social times were not the exception but the norm. We head to his shed for a few bongs, in there I notice some patterns on the ground and walls where mould or whatever has grown. Stepping out to take a leak I see his large backyard, which usually looks ramshackle and run down with weeds, has taken on an amazing level of detail, symmetry, and 3D texture. Stooping down to look at some weeds, the beauty and symmetry of nature is astonishing, and I can see a sort of phosphorescent glow to certain grasses.

While smoking weed my mood does not remain as powerfully strong as it did, with self doubts and questionings slowly re-entering my psyche, but I know that I'm still tripping and just need to relax. When we head inside my friend and his housemate find it very funny when I enquire whether they too see the magnificent 3D textures on their old couch, equivalent to the most intricate and magnificently made rug I could ever imagine being woven. I am content to watch them play video games, not in any condition to participate. We smoke the rest of the weed, I thank them both for looking after me, and I head home.

I have learned some valuable lessons over the last few days, I'm sure I need not spell them out for thee. The true value of friendship is something I have never really put much thought into, but, thanks to this 'bad trip' I have realised that even I, the most antisocial bastard out there still needs his mates when times get tough. I have of course learned that I really ought to look after myself a lot better than I tend to do, not just in terms of giving mind altering drugs more respect, but maintaining a diet which keeps me strong and hopefully ditching cigarettes and (habitual) weed smoking once again. I must also mention that I had to go to work the day after this more challenging experience, I don't know how many times I have to tell myself but don't bloody trip the day before you go to work! Everything is just too infuriating when I am that mentally exhausted. I also feel that I am finally beginning to truly appreciate the psychedelic experience, despite having taken many DXM, salvia and a couple of mushroom trips prior to those about which you have just read. I'm looking forward to the next time I feel ready to reenter this world. OK that's enough of my ramblings. Hope your next trip turns out to be delightful and rewarding. See you later!