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Mescaline 2-CB Drugs DMT

DMT Extraction: Divine Moments of Truth

It is of course The Mad Scientist who walks me through DMT extraction. But he doesn’t actually walk me through. He creates a set of step-by-step instructions. The Mad Scientist was always very good at step-by-step instructions, both following them and giving them. 

So good, perhaps, that he bordered on overconfidence. In all the years we were friends, lovers, and roommates – I only saw the man make a mistake two or three times. Simple things like saying “right” when he meant “left”. He was the epitome of precision. Perhaps his German roots.

His trust in himself being uninterruptible sometimes made me not trust him. If he’d spoken more about a margin of error in anything that he did, I may have trusted him more to see his own blind spots. But he didn’t, and so I was always slightly wary even though he was so much more capable than anyone else.

Luckily, the instructions he wrote me for DMT extraction from Mimosa Hostilis root bark mail ordered from Mexico for this very purpose were good. Solid. Because even with the best instructions it’s totally possible to injure or poison yourself during DMT extraction.

Do not recommend.

It’s about 2003 and I’m living with a roommate I am no longer in touch with. He was an okay roommate other than the one time he accused me of stealing his weed when he was away on vacation. We were both fiends and would sometimes go in on bags, but I never stole his weed. He probably forgot where he put it and blamed me and that move right there would have been so out of character he’d never have admitted it.

He also got me in touch with The Landlady who gave me a job deep cleaning houses during turnaround, but that is another story (and it’s in my book, Down and Out in California).

Anyway, he’s away. So I decide to do some DMT extraction in the kitchen.

The Mad Scientist lends me a sep funnel – which is the only “watched” piece of equipment on the list. It’s also regularly used in making methamphetamine, so not a good idea to go up in a lab supply place in USAmerica and buy it. You’ll end up on a list, if you don’t need a requisition just to see it.

The most toxic chemical that I’ll be working with is Napthalene Chloride, which is high carcinogenic and really likes to take up residence in fats. I stare at the various partially rancid oils on the kitchen shelf. The Mad Scientist has assured me that it cannot penetrate glass. 

I stare down at the folds and rolls of my padded curves. I’m not fat, but I certainly have bodyfat. This, well, it’s just a matter of time and exposure? But what kind of exposure? I know I’m not supposed to drink it or touch it, but do not know how volatile it is, or really even what “volatile” means, technically. I never studied chemistry.

All of it makes me nervous.

DMT extraction is an acid base extraction, which I have some frame of reference for understanding through my knowledge of the human digestive system. The body extracts various nutrients into itself from food through an acid base extraction. 

Our mouth is alkaline, our stomach acidic, our small intestine alkaline, and our colon acidic. I get that we are designed this way because this is a simple way of sifting for the right keys for our locks. And so, the acid base extraction of DMT extraction isn’t unfamiliar to me entirely. 

My nutritional and cooking and food training goes a long way towards my understanding of chemistry. In the end, I am following a recipe. The level of precision required is high, but so it is with a fucking souffle. 

It’s not rocket science. It’s chemistry.

That said, I learn from this experience that pouring is an art form, sport, and skill all unto itself. Also one usually cannot kill oneself quite so easily making a souffle.

And so through great fear and self-doubt, and much practicing of pouring with inert materials, I persevere into fresh DMT extraction. I definitely break a sweat in the process, but I make it.

I extract DMT.

My DMT dries in the alley in the sun, next to the drowned plants from my brief expedition into the world of science as education in the form of a botany class, which I aced so hard I had to pretend I didn’t know who the person scoring higher than everyone else times two was on the class roster.

And so yes. I didn’t grow the m. hostilis root bark I extracted from myself, but I did do the rest of it, and I did smoke the DMT I extracted, but mostly in the form of “tweed” (no, really, click on my 2002 trip experience on Erowid), which is the name I have for DMT melted in 99% isopropyl alcohol and then applied to a tight bud of weed and allowed to soak in and dry. 

This distributes the DMT evenly rather than having it burn off all at once which is what happens if you try to smoke both these substances any other way. Of course this was in the days before cannabis concentrates when I was messing with this stuff. Probably today I’d figure out a way to vaporize some live resin alongside some DMT.

I give away a lot of the DMT I extract, because The Mad Scientist gives me some better quality stuff that he extracted. I still think somewhere in some storage space these treasures might exist. Or I gave them all away. Can’t remember. Too much weed. Not enough tweed.

Tweed is a different experience given by the synergy between weed and DMT, and for me it is very rollercoastery, sexual, intimate, and dangerous. Especially when fueled by a DMT extraction I did by my very own damn self.

Speaking of extractions, there’s one I don’t do by my very own damn self. I assist for an extraction of mescaline from San Pedro cactus. It’s a much harder extraction due to the consistency of slime/snot that the cactus makes when any moisture is added and The Mad Scientist (who else?) won’t let me have a real hand in anything but helping to de-spine, slice, and hang dry the cactus. 

I like the look of the drying rack with all the little green stars hanging from it.

I watch as he breaks it down into a powder, but then leave the house for the actual chemistry. It’s just watching someone pour things into other things and you can’t learn to be better at pouring by watching. Plus I don’t want any further exposure to any kind of chemicals if at all possible. I err on the safe side. And, in the end, it’s highly illegal. If I didn’t see it, and I don’t know it actually happened – that helps deniability.

We don’t know what portion of the results is mescaline and what are other plant alkaloids, so the weighing and potency question isn’t clear. It doesn’t matter anyway because this extraction yields far fewer doses than the DMT extraction that I did. There’s just enough mescaline for us each to try it once.

And so I do.

I have the idea to drink it slowly to avoid the nausea that comes on with such a heavy load (300-500g is a lot of stuff for the body to process). I empty it into a glass of water and do so, but it wasn’t a very potent dose in the first place, so doing so makes it never quite be that strong. Plus it tastes terrible which causes me to drink it even more slowly, spreading the peak out and tamping it down.

I’ve had stronger mescaline experiences through San Pedro tea I’ve made myself. A different kind of extraction. Easier to pour.

The last extraction I’ll speak of I had no part in. And who knows what portion was extraction and what portion synthesis, but either way it was 2C-B making. The Mad Scientist comes home from his friend’s place with enough to get us both high for a hundred lifetimes. His friend had come into the precursor chemicals without getting on a list.

Pretty sure this “friend” of his just needed to rope in a cook and knew that The Mad Scientist would respond boyishly and obsessively. The Mad Scientist got some portion of the products but I’ll bet the friend got more and probably sold it.

Which was not at all the intent of The Mad Scientist, as I ascertain while incredulously yelling at him for bringing home enough drugs to give us both many consecutive life sentences in Federal prison.

He just thought he was going to be set for life and never have to look at acquiring 2-CB again. Him and all those close to him. Didn’t think about it much beyond that. Like, didn’t think that he might want to move some day or that storage could risk him life in prison

Like I said: almost infallible but I have seen the man make a few mistakes. This was one of them.

Luckily nothing came of it. I stomped my foot and huffed until he went outside and buried the 2-CB in the backyard. Eventually I moved out and forgot about it, no longer my problem. No longer in touch with The Mad Scientist, so I am not sure whatever happened to it.

Thus ends my merry tale of DMT extraction, mescaline extraction, and, well, enough 2-CB to kill an elephant buried in the backyard.


Other flirtations with San Pedro cactus

Another tale of drug manufacture


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