A Foray into Stupidity, 2C-T-2

My great uncle was an amazing man. When I get older, I want people to compare me to him. If this happens I know I've lived a long and prosperous life. My Uncle Rodney is by far the kindest man I have ever known. He died from mesothelioma. He was an electrician and when he was younger he had been exposed to asbestos. My grandmother called me from Chicago University Hospital and told me that he would not make it through the night. At this point I freaked out. I wanted so badly to be able to go to Chicago and see him and tell him how much I thought of him before he passed, but there was no way I would make it in time. I felt trapped in my cubicle at work and wanted nothing more than to be able to get away. I felt anxiety and panic building in my stomach. I was nauseated, terrified, and I wanted to remove myself from the situation. I reached into my desk drawer and took 6mg of Xanax. An hour later it felt as if I had took nothing. I burst into tears, called my manager, Terri, and she told me to go home. I went back home and was calling my grandmother every 30 minutes for status updates. Uncle Rodney wasn't even conscious enough for me to speak with him on the phone. I was so upset by this that I walked down to Joe's, bought a fifth of gin, and started pounding gin and tonics. After I was halfway through the bottle I couldn't stand to be at home any more. I left, went to my friend Adrian and Cammy's and they were very supportive and really helped me get through the night. I got word in the morning that the visitation would be on March 4th, 2007 and the funeral on the following day.

While I am a very strong person and have always been one to keep my head through some intense experiences, dealing with death is not one of my strong suits. It's the helplessness of seeing so many upset people and not being able to do anything to improve their condition that I have a problem with. I hate feeling helpless or useless. I decided to go to the visitation completely sober. My mother, her boyfriend, and I all rode together. We went into Immaculate Conception. I walked in and was overwhelmed by both the beauty and tacky gaudiness of Catholicism. That night I did very well in holding myself together, said some kind words to my aunt and cousin, and then left. Once we got into the car I cried until we reached the bar. I drank three pitchers of beer and then returned home. Martina and A-Boy were waiting on my return. At this point Martina and I hadn't begun a romantic relationship and the three of us were great friends. She saw my headlights as I came up the driveway and ran outside to give me a hug.

"Payne-cakes! How are you doing?" I could smell her perfume. I still remember it hitting me in the face every time she would hug me. She smelled like honey suckles.

"I hate funerals. It was nice. My cousin seemed to be coping well. His wife looked good. Aunt Melinda seemed to be handling everything really well. I guess that they had been expecting this for a long time."

"Why don't you come up to our apartment so that you're not alone. Unless of course you want to be alone which I completely understand, but if you want friends, we're here for you. If you hang out with us though, at midnight it's A's birthday, so you have to be in a good mood. I'm sure we have something that can help you with that. Oh, and you have to wear a party hat."

"Okay, let me change out of these clothes and I'll be up. I need to put on something more comfortable." She gave me another hug and I went into my apartment and changed into my flannel pajama pants and a white t-shirt. I went barefoot up stairs to their apartment. A-boy was at the computer when I walked in. Their apartment was very warm and I could smell the heater was on full blast, which was very nice because it was a dreary and rainy day. A-boy walked up and gave me a hug, asked if I was okay, and then pardoned himself while he finished his school work. He finished up early and then we all sat in a circle and smoked a joint. We exchanged tales of various funerals and what not, and I felt much better. They were very empathetic and really understood what I was going through. They were great friends. A-boy and I walked into the secondary bedroom and examined the mushrooms. They were growing up pretty well. We took out various flasks and beakers and the conversation geared towards producing methacathinone. He told me how he had done it once, left the apartment with the equipment on high, and when he returned the heat had make the flask explode and the red hot Pyrex had left burn marks all over the floor. We both thought it was funny. I can't accurately describe his mannerisms, but when A-boy got worked up, he was a real hoot.

"It must be that time!" yelled Martina. She walked in wearing a birthday hat and threw confetti everywhere. "It's time for someone's birthday par-tay, you boys are right on schedule."

I wished him a happy birthday. "So what party favors would you like Payne-ee-cous?" Martina h had several variations on my name. Lots of them I don't remember. My room mate detested her. I'm sure they're burned into Floyd's memory forever. She opened up a cardboard jewellery box that was in the shape of a top hat. Around the bottom of it, it had a piece of notebook paper pasted to it that said, "Do you like my hat? Why yes I do! Thank you very much!" Yes it was silly, but it was appropriate. This was the dope hat and it is where the stash of only God knows what was kept. I said, "It's A's birthday and the birthday boy always gets the first piece of cake. Let him decide what he wants first." A-boy reached in pulled out several capsules with white to off-greyish powder in them and a triangular shaped orange tablet that had 3 holes in it. He put the capsules in one hand and the tablet in the other, raising one and then the other as if to represent scales.

"Hrm... I think I'll go with this one." He quickly popped one of the capsules into his mouth. Then looked at me all bright eyed with his "I'm very satisfied with myself" smile that I had seen all too often. Martina took the ecstasy tablet and I asked what was in the capsules after he dropped one in my hand.

"It's 2C-T-2. It's not as visually stimulating as 2C-I or 2C-T-7, but it's fun to trip on." I asked him for the who's and what's of the chemical trusting him 100%. There are not many people I would trust when it came to drugs. I have met very few people who's knowledge of them could rival my own. A-boy's far surpassed mine. He assured me that each of them was weighed out to 35mg +/-2mg. I took it, rolled another joint, and we all sat in a circle telling ridiculous stories, coloring, and drawing. We listened to upbeat music, trance, happy hardcore, and MSI. Martina was the first to feel her drugs, ours would take over an hour before we felt anything. She and I were on the couch laughing, and A-boy sat on the coffee table and we all had a good time.

Before the T2 set in, the first thing I felt was nausea. It felt as if I had swallowed a ball of cement and it was growing inside my stomach. It ached a little, but that soon passed. The nausea soon gave way to a light feeling. I felt a little stimulated, conversation seemed to flow easier, at least I was more talkative, and the lights began to get brighter. Minutes after the initial onset, my vision went to complete shit. Everything was very blurry and I was happy and giddy. My problems were miles behind me and I began laughing at the most simple things. I found that conversation was harder to follow and I couldn't help but smile. The muscle in my face seemed to be non-responsive. It felt like there were invisible strings attached to my face that were controlling the muscles and contorting my face into this stupid grin. I wondered if this was how Jack Nicholson's character would have felt in Batman after the bad plastic surgery job. My mind began to make farther and father reaching comparisons. I tried to talk, to comment on Martina's story.

"I know what you mean..." My dialogue was interrupted by my own fits of laughter. I was trying to hold it back, trying to convey what was going through my head, but nothing intelligible would come out. I was rocking back and forth trying to fight back the laughter at what I was about to say, but it wouldn't come out. I think we were talking about Vasquez, something about Johnny the Homicidal Maniac or Invader Zim. It was probably Invader Zim, because what then came out was, "Squirrel... hehehe... LIKE THIS!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" I fell to the ground. Everyone was laughing. I don't know if they were laughing at me or what I said, but I was rolling on the ground in laughter, completely unable to communicate all of the random thoughts that were going through my brain. It was as if I had been reduced to a six year-old serotogenic schizophrenic.

After hours of this going on, I realized it was very late and I had to go to bed. The funeral was about 4 hours away. My muscles ached and I was physically exhausted. A-boy gave me some Seroquel tablets so that I could sleep and so that I would be emotionally numb for the funeral. I hugged them both, thanked them for such a wonderful evening, and told them how happy I was that they were my friends. While there are many details about this night and what was said that I will not be able to remember, it was the night that I became very close to both of them.

Caught Halfway

I had met A-Boy and Dallas for the first time at a co-worker's house. Dennis was my co-worker and is one of the most intelligent people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. A-Boy and Dallas, however, came across as the most intelligent meth heads I had ever met. I felt sorry for them. At the time I met them I had been out of the speed scene for almost two years. Meth being one of the only truly neurotoxic substances on the planet was nothing I wanted anywhere near me. Our mutual friend, Dennis, had told me he wanted me to try 5-MeO-DMT because he wanted to hear about my reaction to the drug. A-Boy thought it was hilarious that I was going to try it. He said I would wake up and be overwhelmed with joy as soon as I realized I hadn't shat myself. He went on to say it was the most terrifying drug experience of his life and there was no way one could prepare for it.

"Dude, you're going to smoke it and be like, 'oh it tastes like plastic' and then you're going to be all like, 'oh God, oh God, oh God, please don't let me shit myself, not in front of anybody' and then you're going to be all like, 'AAAHHHHHH' and when you wake up and you realize you didn't shit yourself, you're going to be totally stoked."

He further dramatized his story by flopping back on the ground and flailing his arms around while screeching. Obviously he was twacked out of his mind, and talking just to hear himself, so I thought. I didn't know him well at this time, so I kind of blew him off.

It was the following Wednesday and I had just returned home from class. I had recently traded some pot to a friend for some 5-MeO-DMT. 5-MeO is a little different from its brother, DMT. The addition of the methoxy group to the molecule allows it to more easily pass through the blood brain barrier and be used by the brain. This explains its considerably lower threshold and dose-response curve. Dennis had measured out 20mg (+/- 2mg ) and wrapped it up in foil for me. My fiancée was at work and would be there until much later that evening. I figured it was the best time to try this. I was alone, in a safe environment, and had nothing to do. I didn't have anything to smoke it out of though. As previously mentioned my meth days were long over with and I was never a fan of smoking stuff off of aluminium foil. I needed a pipe.

I went down the street to the local head shop where there were signs prominently displayed against any mention of illegal drug use. I walked in and was greeted. The guy asked if I needed anything, I said glass. "Right back here," he said. He started showing me glass for smoking pot. I was not interested. I'm wondering how I ask for the kind of pipe I need without mentioning drugs. I said, in probably my unintentionally dorkiest voice, "Yes, I um.. I need a glass pipe more for vaporizing a hydrochloride salt so that one could inhale the fumes." The guy just blinked, shrugged, and replied with, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Shit, let's just be more direct about it, I thought. Let's put it into terms he can understand. "Ok, I need a buddy bowl for smoking ice." He understood this, walked over to a glass case, pulled two out and tried to go into his salesman talk about how one was thicker than the other, blah, blah, blah. I took the cheaper of the two for $7 and left.

Upon returning home, like a kid waking up to Christmas presents, I went into the bed room, dumped the little orange crystals into the bowl, got a butane lighter, and started to melt them down. I pulled out the stop clock started the timer and set it on the night stand. As soon as vapours started to form I turned the lighter up a little higher and started to suck the fumes down. It tasted like plastic smells when it melts. My lungs didn't feel like they were burning, not so much like DMT. Instead, they felt like someone was filling them up with concrete. I inhaled all of the vapours and held them in for as long as I could stand before I exhaled. Almost instantly the hair on my arms stood up and I heard beeping and a series of electrical chirps. I was overwhelmed with terror. I felt more disassociated from my physical self than I had ever felt in my life.
"OH GOD, OH GOD, I'm going to die. Nancy Reagan was right. I should have just said no. Drugs are bad. I'm going to be like this for the rest of my fucking life. Shit, this is horrible. Why did I ever do this? Oh shit, fuck, please dear God, don't let me die. Not like this..." All of these thoughts and more went through my mind more quickly than I thought possible. Was time expanding and getting longer?
As quickly as it had started the panic stopped. I was staring through the nearly transparent curtains over the bedroom window and the sunlight was shining through white. My visual canvas became washed over with white light, my head was light, but my body felt made of rod-iron. I fell back onto the bed and everything faded to white. Gravity then lost it's hold on my body, but still had an effect on my clothes. I could feel them tugging on me as I floated inches above the bed and gazed out the window. My mind was flooded with thought. I saw all the positive experiences of my entire life flash before my eyes: first baseball game I ever won, my 4th birthday party, getting straight A's, my first kiss, winning my first Taekwondo tournament, my friends, my family, feeling loved. My brain soared. I had never been able to think this quickly or freely. I felt completely disconnected from my physical body, the physical plane all together. I was tranquil and had never felt so content. My mind stopped with the positive imagery. I was just hovering there above the bed, encompassed in perfect lucidity. For a moment I even felt omniscient.

Gravity began to set in and I started falling away from the light. The bed wasn't under me any more. I fell down what I could only describe as a dark tunnel. The light became a pin point at the other end. Then I realized I wasn't falling any more, rather, I was being pulled. I felt these ominous black coils or tentacles wrap around me and I was being pulled down through this dark, oily fluid. I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe, and my entire body felt like every nerve ending was being stimulated at once. I felt like I was on fire. I tried to struggle, to fight, to get away, to swim through this muck, but nothing. I was completely powerless. If the light was a peaceful heaven, this was truly hell. Everything negative that had happened to me in my life was flashing through my head. Every wrong I had done or which had been done to me, they were all flipping through my head like pictures. It was like sitting in front of a psychologist showing me Rorschach blots. "Now, what did you do wrong here? What did you think you did that made this happen to you?" It wasn't my voice asking me these questions. I was hearing another narrator. I didn't like her. I came to own and accept the negativity that had happened in my life. I took all these instances was able to analyze them and accept their validity. Whether it was my fault or someone else's all together, it was there and there was nothing I could do about it now. I was ok with them for the first time. After what seemed like hours in this muck and seeing the pictures and hearing the questions apparently the narrator felt she had tortured me enough or perhaps my owning of all the negativity in my life is what she wanted. I felt the coils restricting my movement release me. I could move, I could swim through this fluid now.

I still felt like I was drowning but the light came into focus. The closer I got to the light the more at ease I felt. My body emerged from the dark oil and I could see the light and feel its warmth. I was back in Nirvana. Now the curtains came back into focus. I felt my body settle into the bed. I emerged in a state of artificial mania. Everything had trails and the light was brighter than ever. This altered visual state was fast fading and gone after 30 seconds. I reached over to the night stand, grabbed the stop watch, and stopped the timer. What felt like a 5 hour journey was only 7 minutes. How could it have seemed so long? My only explanation for this was that much in the way a computer's clock keeps the time by the speed of the processor. The computer knows how many cycles it can push in a second, based on its settings, it knows how long a second is. Apparently someone had over-clocked my processor without changing the settings. So many more cycles or thoughts happened in a second than I was accusomed that I perceived time as being longer. That is my only explanation for such a strange occurrence. I was sweating a little and had never in my life felt hungrier, otherwise I was completely baseline. I ran to the kitchen, and made 3 turkey sandwiches. I ate them all as fast as I could and washed them down with a glass of milk. If 5-MeO-DMT threw me into heaven then pulled me into hell, then real life was stuck somewhere in the middle, just caught halfway.

2C-I and an unexpected guest

So one day A-Boy stops by with a friend from Dallas and an offer of 30 capsules of a research chemical, 2C-I, each capsule being 30mg of the chemical for $7 a piece. It is a research chemical, is unscheduled and you can buy it online: http://www.soundwaveabduction.com/oz-international.html
Not only is this about 25% the market value, but it's verifiable with an MSDS (material safety data sheet).

2C-I belongs to the phenethylamine class of drugs. It is similar to both amphetamine and MDMA. MDMA is ecstasy for those not in the know, but I HATE that term.
I buy them, look up 2C-I online and wait for my weekend. At the time I was working a help-desk job 3rd shift. My weekend started Wednesday morning. I had made a friend online, about 4 years prior, who went by the handle of ManicFruitSalad. Judging by her name alone, if you know me, you know we have similar interests. Her name is Laura, and she is a dear friend of mine to this day. Well, I relay the information to her and as always I joke that she needs to come up from Oxford and we can hang out, party, etc. Well, this time she says she needs the address, that she doesn't have a cell phone, and she'll be there at 3:30PM. Sure... I wait around for her and nothing. Did I mention it's January? I put my flannels back on and hop back in bed. Around 5:30 there's a pounding at my front door. We never used the front door, we parked and used the back. Apparently Laura had gotten a flat, fixed it, and was able to find the apartment. However in front of me was not the girl I had started chatting with four years ago. She was now 20 and a stunning 5'8", knock out figure, and long red hair. I had never even speoken to her on the phone before. From this beautiful woman comes the tiniest voice, "um... are you J?" I know I had that big dumb grin on my face, "You must be, Laura, come on in!" She comes in, I'm looking a mess, and I roll her up a joint to puff on while I go get cleaned up.

Obviously Laura has never met a stranger, she follows me into my bathroom while I'm shaving to make sure I can hit the joint; a little invasive, but thoughtful. She and I talk that neither of us have eaten and the drug has a very long time period before it starts to take effect if taken with food. We each decided to take one cap and go for a walk and we would eat after it wore off. We walked the few blocks down Poplar Ave from my apartment to the park, walk around the Brooks museum, and MCA. After about 45 minutes we both realize we can't stop talking and our mouths are having trouble keeping up with our brains. The street lights all have halos and light in general is brighter. There is a slight sense of empathy and a connected feeling similar to MDMA, but not as profound. We both definitely noticed the mental effects as the relations we made in conversation began to stretch further and further. To any passersby we probably sounded like two schizos off their meds who had escaped from Bolivar.

With 2C-I there is a heavy body load, it was a little discomforting on the stomach, our pupils had widely dilated, but we were walking much faster now unintentionally. 2C-I seems to have very profound stimulant properties. With this new found energy we decided to walk over to the zoo. A slight "fear" had set in; that ominous feeling of dread. Something bad was going to happen, we were having entirely too much fun, laughing loudly and "riding" the statues in front of the zoo. The security guard at the zoo asked us why we were climbing on the huge animal statues well after the zoo had closed. Laura could do nothing but giggle. I mentioned that I was doing an Archaeological study of art in Memphis for MCA and that we would be on our way and I wished him a good evening. I know that what I said didn't sound quite right, but I offered to produce my student ID (that I didn't have) before he asked to see it. He was nice enough and just asked us to move along. For some reason the fear of hallucinating in a jail cell has always straightened me out enough to speak to the authorities with grace enough to get by. I also had forgotten that 2C-I is a research chemical in the US and as such is completely unscheduled or unregulated. I could have sold it to kids out of an ice cream truck and there are no laws against it. We both however decided it was probably best to return to the safety of the apartment at this point as neither of us had taken this drug before and we were very unsure of the results.

Instead of taking Poplar we walked through the neighborhood behind my apartments, a nice section of town, and probably safer for both of us. It was at this point our motor skills began to break down. We were both slightly dizzy and walking on uneven ground was a little more than tedious. The street lights were considerably brighter and as we walked past houses close to the street the motion sensitive security lights were blinding. All the lights were brighter and there was a tight web of geometric patterning that had covered everything. Laura described a similar visual experience. I wasn't seeing very much in terms of closed-eye-visuals but she was describing colorful ribbons and shapes.

By the time we made it back to the apartment, two hours had passed and we were at the plateau of the experience. At this point I would say that the chemical has similar empathogen properties to MDMA, but not nearly as strong. It has much greater clarity and is very similar to d-Amphetamine; blood pressure and heart rate were noticeably increased, not dangerously high though. The visuals were more similar to those of LSD, where there is a general brightening of lights and colors and inanimate objects seemed to "move", "grow", or "breathe" on their own. We also noticed that our sense of touch had become considerably more sensitive and we felt very cold. I can not really explain this as 2C-I increases serotonin overall, and serotonin raises body temperature. Much like similar drugs, our moods were very enhanced and we found laughter in almost everything. If one of us could stop laughing long enough to ask the other a question, and a response could be formed, we would just break out into laughter again. In any event we spent the rest of the night wrapped up in blankets, laughing like hyenas at "The Big Lebowski" and trying to stay warm. We were able to sleep about 12 hours after dosing. 2C-I makes getting to know someone very fun and enjoyable. Other than that there were no physical disturbances which were not enjoyable.

First Contact with the Otherside

This is Di-Methyl-Tryptamine. DMT is produced by your pineal gland every night when you sleep. It is responsible for those dreams that make absolutely no sense whatsoever. DMT changed my life. It is considered one of nature's most potent psychedelics. It is used in the South American brews Ahyuasca and Hoasca. Although found in nature in the root bark of the Mimosa hostilis bush, among others, it is produced by our own bodies, yet our government deems it a Schedule I drug. It is just as illegal as crack or heroin. To be deemed Schedule I a chemical must have the following criteria:
1)The drug or other substance has a high potential for abuse.
2)The drug or other substance has no currently accepted medical use in treatment in the United States.
3)There is a lack of accepted safety for use of the drug or other substance under medical supervision..
Now that you know a little about DMT, I will share with you one of my most positive and life changing experiences.

A few years back a young chemist, and close friend of mine, A-Boy, and his "assistant", Jack Handey, were going to cook up some DMT of their own. Many are the adventures of Jack and A-Boy. They committed several felonious acts. I must make the distinction between their manufacturing and my use. I have never manufactured for the distribution to others a Schedule I substance. They had purchased some mimosa hostilis root bark, a non-polar solvent (xylene), and NaOH (lye). They crushed the root bark, covered it with xylene, and poured some amount of lye to the mix. Jack then took off the top "watery" layer and let the xylene evaporate and he was left with this picture which he uploaded to erowid.org at a later date. **EDIT: This process is not as simple as it sounds. It is a lot more than just mixing up some ingredients inside a jar, shake, and bake. This process took a few weeks of hard work including ingredient gathering, equipment gathering, reviewing of safety procedures, etc. Oh, and please don't try this at home, unless of course it's legal where you live. If that is the case, let me know where you live.**

Having said that, A-Boy carefully measured out 60mg of this substance on scales in his lavatory made clandestine laboratory he had setup at the time. Handed me a pipe with the 60mg of yellowish material and told me, "Go lie on my bed, LIE on the bed, do not attempt this while standing, smoke as much as you possibly can, and don't fight it whatever you do. Also while we weighed out 60mg the scales are +-2mg. Just thought you should know." When A-Boy tells me this while peering over his glasses and giving me his "Payne, I'm not fucking around" look, I take him seriously. I began to melt the yellow shards down and breathed in the fumes. My lungs were filled with the sweetly-acidic yet plastic tasting vapors that burned. It was like the Hydra had blown into my lungs. I tried hard not to cough but I felt as if I had been poisoned. A-Boy caught the pipe as apparently I had stopped physically responding to any stimuli. He later told me I took on a zombie like stare for a few seconds and then fell back onto the bed. Suddenly my ears were filled with sounds no human should have to endure I can only attempt to describe these to you: high pitched screeching sounds, sirens that seem to come and go so quickly it was as if a thousand ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars were all passing eachother in different directions in the bed room. Bells started ringing, and then I heard it, a firecracker. Not one of those shitty bottle rockets that just pops. No sir, this was the grand finale. Again, I want to state that all hallucinations up to this point were auditory in nature, nothing had changed visually and my mental state was simply confused, until the sound of that "firework" going off. Then all sound in the room ceased faster than it had started. You could hear a pin drop. The room was encompassed by a grey light and I was the only being in the room. A-Boy and Jack were gone, but I never saw them leave the room. Jack was leaning in the door way and A-boy was sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, watching me with anticipation. Where did they go? From the corners of the room a darkness began to grow. This darkness swallowed the room so that there was no longer anything, just dark and then "they" came out. These imp-like creatures began to grow from the corners. I could not see their faces. All I could see was their dark figures, humanoid, but smaller. Occasionally I would get a glimpse of what I thought to be teeth or a smile but their faces had no noticable details. They began speak to me in a language that I could not understand. They were using their hands write some kind of heiroglyphics in the air, like they were trying to teach me something or tell me something. I stared equally amazed and confused. What do they want me to know? This seemed to go on for hours, but I was entranced in watching their movements. Then they started laughing at me; they knew I was clueless. The room came back into perspective slightly as one of the "imps" or "DMT-elves" as we've come to call them came forward. He said in English, "You are too consumed by this physical world. What is important is that it is only one of the many phases in your existence. The molecules in your body are made of the same atoms as the wood in this floor. This physical existence is only very temporary and it is the shortest, most trivial portion of your existence. You worry about it and what others in it think too much. Be a kind person. That is all we can tell you now. You are not ready for the rest." As they had emerged from their corners they went back, as if I was watching everything in reverse, with them any darkness was gone, replaced with grey light, and then I opened my eyes.

A-boy was there in one of his oddly contorted positions. "So Payne, what did you think?" All I could say was, "How long, how long were they here? How long did I talk to them? It felt like hours as they tried to explain to me things I had no way of understanding. How long was it?" He replied, "You were out for 5 minutes and 32 seconds." I thanked him and excused myself from the room. At this point I was completely sober, and felt no after effects other than being ravenously hungry. I went back to my apartment where I ate, ravenously. I believe that the DMT turned on a part of my brain that we don't ordinarily use and allowed me to communicate with beings in another dimension. In any event, I felt better about myself and my situation after and have not felt that I've been in a position in life where I am ready to learn more from them. I'm sure I will one day, but not yet.