I Fuckin’ Love LSD!

underneath the stairwell albert hoffman (2)

One thing that really pisses me off with the world today is people’s ignorance in regards to LSD. This mainly extends to dosage issues although recently I had a friend tell me she had never taken LSD before, but had taken acid!
When I was living in Toronto, it was difficult to get acid and when I finally tracked some down I asked the dealer how many micrograms were on the blotter, and you know what he said? He said, “What’s that?” I spent the next half an hour educating him on the finer points of lysergic science.
What truly drives me fucking  insane is when you try to have an intelligent conversation about acid with some fuckwit and they go on and on about this really, really strong acid they had maaaaaan. Then when you ask them how many mics were on it, they have no fucking idea, but it was like, totally stronger than like any like acid ever maaaaaan. It is pointless trying to have a good drug conversation with idiots like this.
Another thing that drives me crazy is when squirrelfuckers say retarded shit like, “They had the strongest acid back in the 60’s maaaaaan.” What, you think they lost the motherfuckin formula cunt?!?! Google it and you will have the formula instantly. Sure, in the 60’s the doses were a lot higher (roughly 250mcg), but it was the exact same drug; Lysergic Acid Diethalymide 25.

Judging by effects, I would estimate that most blotter acid around today is roughly 40-70 micrograms of LSD – pissweak. Back in the sixties the purity was a lot higher than street acid you get today, back then it was 95-99% (‘white fluff’ and ‘needlepoint’) nowadays street acid is around 60% – that’s why you had all these retarded rumours about it having strychnine in it because it fucks up your back and gives you headaches.

You would have to be a goddamned idiot to buy street acid nowadays when you can get white-fluff and needlepoint delivered to your door via the darknet.
Now we have the finer points of acid etiquette out of the way, I would like to share with you some of the experiences I have had on good ole acid.


450 Micrograms at 30,000 feet.

KLM 747-400 City of Lima PH-BFL

 One of my favourite places to trip was on international flights. It would become like a mission because I had to ‘maintain’ normalcy and there was nowhere to go.

I would always bring a bottle of what I referred to as Pepthi cola with me. This was a litre of Coke loaded with either morphine or methadone, so that when things got too intense, I could take a sip and level out. I called it Pepthi, because the first time I did it was with a bottle of Pepsi loaded with Pethidine.

On this particular flight I was flying from Delhi to Sydney with my girlfriend at the time and had taken 450mcg of acid. My Pepthi had 400mg of Morphine sulphate in it. I had the window seat and this guy sat in the aisle seat so my girlfriend was sandwiched between us.

His name was Steve and he was a screw at Pentridge in Melbourne. We started drinking and getting on really well. Eventually I told him that I was tripping on acid and he was interested. I asked him if he liked opiates and he said, “you know, I have always wanted to try them,” so I gave him the Pepthi. He had a good scull and my poor old girlfriend had to put up with us as we rambled on about bullshit and used her tray as our drinking platform.

When I farewelled him at Melbourne, I gave him another scull of Pepthi and he hugged me and was going on about how I was his best mate etc. The customs were standing there shaking their heads. When I left, he screamed out, ‘If you’re ever in Pentridge mate, don’t worry I will look after ya!’ Which really impressed the customs guys.

When I went through customs in Sydney, I was swilling the Pepthi in front of the custom guys. They asked me what it was and I told them it was Pepthi Cola. They just thought I was a drunk which is a great subertfuge for such escapades.


Whackin’ Acid.

underneath the stairwell gel tabs

In the late 80’s I went through a short but intense intravenous LSD phase. I used to go to the Clock Hotel in Surry Hills in Sydney and buy ‘Clearlight’ hits of acid. These were gelatine tabs and the thing to do at the time was put one in each eye, close your eyes for ten minutes while they dissolved and when you opened them, you were tripping balls.

If you have ever tried to shoot up acid from a blotter, you will know how difficult it is – it is very hard to extract the acid from them even when you soak them in water for some reason. Clearlights would dissolve in a spoon of water in seconds when a lighter was held under it.

The first time I biffed up acid, I was sitting at my table. Instead of waiting an hour for acid to hit, when you do it IV it hits instantly and is roughly 3-4 times more intense.

When it hit me, I thought the light-bulb above my head had exploded and sent shards of glass into my brain and I fell off the motherfuckin chair. I started banging it up several times a week and made the doses stronger and stronger.

Eventually, I started having blackouts when I was high, and other strange side affects. Most disturbing was when I would wake up in the morning after an acid hit and I would be temporarily paralysed. I had an intense fear that something evil was just behind me. I would try to scream but it would just be a gurgle in my throat and my left eyelid would flutter uncontrollably.

I decided to stop whackin it after a few odd experiences. Like the time I suddenly found myself at my mates place in Bondi(I was living in Kings Cross) I had no recollection of the last few hours, was soaking wet and only had my black stovepipe jeans on.

My three friends were sitting around looking majorly pissed off and watching TV. When I asked, “What’s going on?” they angrily told me to get fucked. Eventually, I found out what had happened. At around 2am(I had whacked the acid at 10) they were awoken by someone pounding on their door. My mate was a dealer so this made him more than a little concerned. There was a thunderstorm at that time and when he opened the door I was standing there in my jeans soaking wet and grinning like a maniac. I then proceeded to wrassle with him whilst laughing hysterically. The other guys in the house thought that they were being raided and came running out so I wrassled them too. Eventually they would calm me down and I would go “It’s ok I am alright now,” then I would start up again.


The Uneasy Alliance.

underneath the stairwell Hofmann

In 1995 I was in Manali, Northern India. The town had been cut off from all roads and electricity for two weeks and was considered a “disaster zone.” What had happened was this; torrential and continuous rain had caused the river that ran through the town to become an absolute maelstrom. I have never seen anything like it; boulders the size of cars bounced down the river like pebbles as houses and buildings were sucked into the river. A few hundred people were killed. I saw a guy fall into the river as he tried to clamber over the area of a landside that had cut the road in half. The roar from the river was so loud, you couldn’t even hear him scream as he slipped in.

Whilst there, I had made friends with a bunch of Israeli’s and a yodelling Bavarian. The rain didn’t relent so we sat around each day eating acid and smoking hash with exotic names like “Pavarti Cream.” One day I got onto some Hoffman 50th anniversary blotters which were dosed with 450 micrograms of LSD – definitely not for amateurs. These trips had been the cause of several permanent flip-outs in Manali.

Me and the Bavarian decided to go for a wander after eating one and gravitated towards the river. After smoking a chillum of Pavarti Cream we started on our adventure. The paths we walked along the mountainside were the ones used by sheep herders and were very thin. The foliage on the mountainside consisted of short grass and huge pine trees you couldn’t even halfway wrap your arms around.

We would be making good progress, then we would come to a fresh landside area; all that remained of the aforementioned foliage was slushy mud slowing dripping over the bedrock of the mountain about a meter down. We would double back and encounter another landside where we had been not ten minutes previous.

Things become strange between myself and the Bavarian although this was not that unusual considering the circumstances. He started getting  all Germanic on my ass and saying things like, “If ve are strong ve can make it to zee mountains!” He would point at snow capped peaks about a hundred kilometres away. I would point out to him that we were on very risky terrain and that we had narrowly avoided death several times already. I would also point out that we had no water and the distance to the mountains. He would then yell, “This does not matter! If ve are strong ve shall make it to zee mountains!!!”

He was wearing one of those see through plastic rain ponchos and I was wearing gum boots and holding a brolly up with my right hand. So in my acidic mind, this is what the dynamic turned into; The Bavarian was a rebel U-boat commander and although not a committed Nazi, he was loyal to Germany(Which was the case with many U-boat crew). I was a British officer and circumstances had forced us together, we temporarily needed each other to survive. We had forged an uneasy alliance.

He kept on trying to dominate so I made sure to stay in front of him as we walked on. It is a miracle we didn’t die as the landsides were frequent. During a Pavarti break, we looked to the other side of the mountain and witnessed one of the most awesome sights I have ever seen in my life. Large cracks cobwebbed the ground then the huge trees started to slide bottom first in ever increasing speed towards the river. The whole lot just slipped off the mountain. When the trees hit the river they exploded into splinters, filling the air with smell of pine and earth.

Eventually we found ourselves at an impasse; there was no way forward without crossing a landside area. The U-boat commander jumped onto a boulder that was in the sludge of the landslide area and I stayed on safe land. “You are weak!” He screamed at me and I decided to try and reason with him. “Look mate, you have to stop being so macho, let’s just have a good trip eh?” He didn’t know what the word macho meant and demanded I explain it to him. It seemed an impossible task and we got caught up in details.

Meanwhile, the boulder he was on was slowly sliding downwards. I pointed this out to him and it seemed to break the spell he was under, he suddenly became all meek and compliant and said, “Maybe you should not have told me zis ya?” and jumped back to where I was. After our little stand-off, he stopped being such a wanker. We both realised however that we were in extreme danger, there was nothing of the mountain terrain behind us, just mud moving slowly over bedrock.

Hi kids, my name is Albert and I invented LSD

Everything except a huge thorn bush patch had slipped into the river. The thorn bush was in the corner of the base of the mountains above us and it’s root system must have held the land together.

We realised that this was our only way back and that it may not last much longer. So we ran for it. There were goat paths all through the huge thorn bushes but it was like the thorns from Sleeping Beauty. Having spent my primary school years in an area that was surrounded by bush, I was an expert at running through it.

I left the Bavarian far behind. I was sure the whole lot was just about to slip. Then I heard cries for help behind me. I back-tracked and found the Bavarian completely entangled by the thorns caught in his poncho – he couldn’t even move, it was like he was suspended. I laughed at him for a bit then entangled him and he let out a meek, danke.

When we got back, everyone asked us how our outing had been and I could tell the Bavarian was all embarrassed about his behaviour so I just told them the exciting stuff about the landslides and not how I thought the Germanic cunt was a rebel U-boat commander.