The volumes I did in the 80's literally changed my metabolism. A somewhat common morning, when I was working 3 part-time jobs, carrying 12 credits at UAF, and doing an internship as part of that, waking up to a pot of stove-top espresso, 8 or 9 worm-size lines, a yellow and a couple whites, and driving to school to take notes at a gazillion miles per hour, leaning against the wall in the rear of the classroom, while my hand whipped the pen across the paper, and they gave me A's and put me on the Dean's List, thus cultivating some of my disrespect for some aspects of the 'higher education' system.I guess I am just a chickenshit in my old age. I would pass on blow for fear of heart implosion. And my mind wanders enough without psychedelics so I am done with them as well.
But have no fear . . . I just did a Wake & Bake with some of my Mack & Crack harvest . . .
Then maybe 24 years ago, I was in South Central Ak, a couple friends and I were visiting, and way back at home, the holding tank (pre-well) was out of water, we had guests with an infant, the water company wasn't getting with the order, I had a crop going, we were doing some legalization activism, and I was stressed.
A friend broke out some decent paste, of about 42%-48% alleged purity, I did a tiny line, very modest, and had anxiety throughout, mild palpitations, etc. But I believe the circumstances bore much of that weight, as well as the noted changes from back in the day.
I suspect a gram of uncut down there on a holiday would last me notably longer than once-upon-a-time.