Blogs

Yesterday, as I went to the bodega to cop a sandwich I glanced at the New York tabloids and saw an interesting cover story in the Post. In 2007 a couple was browsing in a Second Hand shoppe and against their better judgement bought an eggshell coloured ceramic bowl that had a 7cm radius, basically an ashtray.

Noticing, as time went on, that it had a rather unique look with what appeared to be teeth around the rim they decided on a whim to take it into Manhattan to an antique shoppe to at least find out a bit more about their curio. Lo and behold the antique dealer, a specialist in ceramics, went apeshit. Luckily for the couple he was an honest sort and asked them to allow him to photograph it and shop it with experts because, as he told them, he thought they might have a museum piece on their hands. Excitedly the couple returned to their suburban home and waited for the results, if any.

The next day the dealer phoned them and explained that a colleague of his at Sothebys, the premier New York auctioneer, was extremely excited and wanted to meet with them at their soonest convience. When they finally made it to Sotheby's they were stunned to learn that it was an 1,100 year old Chinese piece, known as a Dong Bowl (get your mind out of the gutter, I'm serious, it's actually called that). He told them that there was only one other specimine in the entire world, sitting on a museum shelf in London. If they were willing to let Sothebys auction it off they could expect to clear 200,000 to 300,000 US Dollars.

This past Tuesday the bowl went up for auction and some stupid Sephardic Jew paid 2.2 Million for it. Not a bad profit margin off of a $3 Dollar tiny ceramic bowl.

The weekend before a couple bought a sealed lot of artwork at an estate sale for $200.00. Turns out they purchased $30 Million Dollars worth of Abstract Art.

The closest I have ever come to such luck is when I was with the mother of my Mexican daughter. We got into a spat and she went to a petrol station down the block from our flat in Tampa, Florida. At the time M and M candy was having a promo in which a couple of lucky motherfuckers would win $1 Million Dollars IF they bought a small packet of peanut M and Ms and found a grey M and M in it.

So she went and bought herself some peanut M and Ms and she returned home with only the grey candy, having thrown away the packet it came in, and of course the packet was as necessary as the candy, if not more so. I was under a lot of stress with that girl, as well as dealing heroin so my life was topsy turvy. What did I do? I gruffly asked her to tell me where she had thrown the wrapper. When she couldn't remember (probably on purpose) I began berating her, then she fucken ate the candy!!! I figured it was still a manageable situatuation so long as I could get my mitts onto the packet.

I began searching dumpsters and garbage cans in a 3 square block area having discovered that she had meandered home after feeding her fat ass (actually she had a great body but that was my general mood). By the middle of the next day, after the rubbish lorries carted away all the cans and contents of all dumpsters I resigned myself to my ass backwards lack of luck in my seriously demented clusterfuck of a life.

Mindanao is home to literally the world's largest gold vein. In fact, gold is all over the island. My kind of/sort of father in law Mario- Rizza's father- had like so many men on the island tried his hand at prospecting. He would fly to and from the gold field in a helicopter since that particular field sat deep in the bush, far from even the animal trails that offride motorcycles- called "hubal-hubals," after the Hubble Space Telescope, probably because they go where noone has ever gone before- use to ferry peasants and Hilltribesmen to and from villages.

After Mario caught malaria he gave up and confined his activities to farming and milling. Still, he always tries to get me to buy him a sensitive metal detector to look for gold, or barring that, buried treasure. Buried Treasure is a huge thing in the Southern Philippines. The weird thing is everybody imagines Yamamoto, the Japanese commander during WWII, buried all his stolen loot on Mindanao as the Japanese hastily withdrew just ahead of MacArthur's return. The thing is, Yamamoto never stepped foot on Mindanao and while it is generally conceded that there was some burying going on, it would have had to have been on Luzon, 900 klicks north of Mindanao.

Still, Mario isn't necessarily a fantasist. Just after America quelled the Filipinos in the first years of the 20th Century, a young girl from a Hilltribe near my home was bathing in a river just after Monsoon. As she stood in a meter of water she saw something glimmering for a second or two but was sure it was her imagination. The next day she came to wash again and sure enough she found a 2.5kg solid gold statuette of a female Hindu deity.

Wanting to cash in on her good fortune she brought it to the American Governor of Mindanao who "rewarded" her with a couple of kilos of rice. The statuette now sits in a display case in Chicago. It saddens me that Filipinos can only view a gold plated fascimile in the Butuan Museum. I can only imagine the indignation a Filipino might feel over the situation.

I am spending my off time right now with my parents.

I am doing "Spring Cleaning" for my mother, 74 years of age.

I am weeding and raking for my father, 84 years of age.

I discovered my high school freshman diary the other day while cleaning for my mother. In it, I discovered it has been forty years, almost to the day, since my father busted me with a four finger lid *see below* of weed.

My dad was an undercover narcotics agent in those days. I, 14 years old and thinking I knew everything, left my stash in my closet during the day while I was in school. +see below+

I came home one day to discover my father's work car, a crown vic with a couple hats hiding a couple antenna in the back window, not an obvious cop car at first glance, parked. He was home. I went in the front door and walked down the hall to put my books and my purse down on my bed. My father called my named and said "Get in here." He was in bathroom with my baggie of weed, held over the toilet on my dad's hand like a man standing on the platform of his own hanging.

I didn't know what to do...or say...

He said, "I can't control what you do when you are somewhere besides here. But when you are in MY house, you are NOT to bring DRUGS here. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Before I could catch my breath long enough to say anything, he poured my marijuana out of its baggie and into the toilet. He flushed. It was over.

So I parted with a snark. "I paid ten dollars for that. You OWE me ten dollars."

Cut to four decades later. My father has been retired almost as long as he was a nark.

I was outside smoking about 10 pm on my parents back patio. I heard someone lock the back door and I had just filled my lungs, so I stood up and said "Hey" and my dad opened the door. I did not think to stop my exhalation and blew marijuana smoke right in the man's face. o_0

I stood there mortified.

I have had my medical marijuana license for seven or eight years. My dad knows it. But I don't smoke in front of him. I don't smoke until after he goes to bed. I respect and love my father.

He acted like nothing happened!! SO

I said, "I'm out here dad. It's nice out here at night." So HE said, "Well watch out that a skunk doesn't climb up your leg out here." 0_o

He made pleasant conversation with me for a few minutes, then he said, "It's a good thing I realized you were out here." I said, "I would have knocked, Dad." So he went and sat down on the couch and turned the fuckin tv on! SO I was like "wtf" so I went back to my chair and kept smoking!!

Done smoking and high, I went into the house, got some fruit, and sat down on the loveseat and started talking to him about the documentary I watched earlier. After 10 minutes of talking, both of us knowing full well I was high, I excused myself and said goodnight, and he was all friendly and cool...

I never would have imagined this. Not in a million years.

it was the weirdest fucking thing I have ever experienced in my life.

If time travel were possible, I would go back and tell my fourteen year old self, "Don't worry. This is going to turn out fine! Don't even trip!"

My diary now has footnotes. I want everyone to know that it turns out ok in the end.



footnotes

+In hindsight, I see that I had a LOCKER at school and this was before schools were fenced in, before school kids got searched, and before security cameras and staff. I could have left in my locker and it would have been INFINITELY safer, and I could have gotten it any time I wanted. I didn't know SHIT.


*A "lid" was an ounce of weed. An ounce was generally measured by holding three closed fingers next to a baggie and filling the baggie to the top of the third finger. It cost ten bucks. A four finger lid was more weed in the baggie **see below* for the same ten bucks. The marijuana always had seeds in it and had to be crumbled onto a shoe box lid held at an angle. The seeds would roll to the bottom and the green would fall and rest near the top.

**Bud wasn't measured out by the gram 40 years ago and baggies closed with a couple of flaps.

Let me start by saying that I personally hate politics and all the lies, corruption, and mud slinging that go along with them. However, I also believe that they are a necessary evil when it comes to government and its functionality. I feel that along with politics that government is a needed evil because I view anarchy as a utopian idea that cannot exist in the logical/ real world. The reason that true anarchy will never exist for a sustained period of time is because it goes against the basic human instinct of controlled chaos. In anarchy, there would only be chaos with no control, so that eventually, someone, somewhere, would rise up and re-establish some form of government, ending the idea of anarchy. It is in our very nature to desire some form of control, but at the same time a degree of chaos (as I feel the Universe also functions in this manner), and organized government offers us this, even with its lies, corruption, and mud slinging toward other politicians.

I tend to consider myself independent when it comes down to choosing strictly between Republican and Democrat, but I tend to vote more for Democrats than anything. The reason that I do this despite my claim of being independent is because that overall I agree more with Democrats and their ideas/philosophies.I also realize that the winner all throughout our nations history has came from one of the two major parties of the time. I view Democrats as the lesser of two evils, which is actually a sad way to vote but I feel that voting for someone in the lesser parties is a waste unless they have a snowballs chance in Hell of winning, which they usually don't even have that (the only President to even come close to winning on an independent ticket was Theodore “Teddy” Roosevelt running with the Bull Moose Party).

Some issues that I differ from both Republicans and Democrats on is that of the war on drugs, Euthanasia, and how money is managed overall as a nation. To me the war on drugs is a waste of resources and we would be much better off going the way of Portugal, decriminalization, harm reduction, and offers of rehabilitation. As for the idea of Euthanasia, I feel that the elderly population who can no longer consciously control their actions, memories, or other essential life functions (as such in the example of later stages of Alzheimer's) should be euthanized to end their suffering, the suffering of those who must care for them daily, and the suffering of the cost that it takes to care for them. My third contrast to the Republicans or Democrats is largely based on my other two concepts and the extra money that they would provide by changing the current policies that do nothing but spend money into policies that help make money, save lives due to the violence brought on by the war on drugs, and ease the suffering of those affected by a disease such as Alzheimer's.

Pariahprose

Whether everyone can remember their dreams or not, it has been scientifically established that everyone dreams, despite some individuals saying otherwise. It is during the REM cycle of sleep that dreams occur and in which our body and mind actually gets rest. The invididuals who claim not to dream or to dream very little simply do not remember their dreams for whatever reason. However, this is possible to remedy with the creation of a personal Dream Journal. Nobody really understands the purpose of dreaming but some people see it as the subconscious mind manifesting current life situations, problems, or solutions to a persons conscious mind. The odd,chaotic, and seemingly senseless nature of dreams is needed because the things that the subconscious feeds to the conscious to process cannot be evaluated if shown in their true form, the conscious mind would be overwhelmed with information! A dream journel will help an individual recall, collect, and individually process the meanings of their dreams.

All that is needed for a Dream Journal is a notebook of somesort, something to write with, and the dedication to write down as much of your dreams as you can recall upon waking up from them. As you keep your journal for a longer period of time, you will begin to notice an ability to remember more of your dreams. You are essentially training both your conscious and subconscious mind.Parts of the journal will still need to be kept up with nightly even if you don't wake up to record your dreams. Here is the format I recommend for the set up of your Dream Journal, which will eventually be consolidated into a person Dream History. Feel free to alter the format to what works for you ^.^

Things to Include In Your Dream Journal

1. Date
2. Foods eaten before going to sleep
3. Space to write down what you can remember about your dream
4. Space to write down any comments about the dream and what it may mean(It is suggested to write any comments on dreams after the nights sleep is completed to get the clearest and potentially most benefical analysis of your dream)

A Dream Journal can be highly beneficial to the individual keeping it. It gives them the opportunity to consciously sort out the information that their subconscious is trying to tell them. Keep in mind, not every dream has meaning, the subconscious is known to create dreams of nothing but pure randomness. Overtime, a person will be able to sort out which of their dreams have meaning and which do not. Being able to do this will allow them to make needed changes to their physical conscious existence to further their hearts desire that is buried within the lower chambers of their being.

Keeping track of dreams may also give the journal owner the ability to induce what is called Lucid Dreaming, which is clear dreaming, where you are aware that you are dreaming and have the ability to manipulate most factors or things that appear in dreams. To help increase the chances of this benefit, it is useful for the individual to frequently ask aloud of themselves while awake during the day if what they are experiencing at the current moment is reality or a dream with, just simply stop long enough to in the day to ask, “Is this real or a dream?”. Doing this frequently will eventually program a person to ask themselves this question not only while awake, but while asleep as well.

From Lucid Dreaming it allows for a route for someone to experience Astral Projection. There are other ways of achieving this, but IMO, it is much easier to be successful when starting the process from the subconscious mind which is more susceptible to manipulation of this sort because of its closer proximity to the energy that makes up the astral plane and energy that links us all together. Trying to go astral from the conscious mind requires more discipline, time, and has additional barriers that are formed from the nature of the conscious mind. If anyone has any questions,suggestions, or experience using a dream journal please feel free to post your comments ^.^

THE ADVENTURES OF MY FATHER'S WOOD.
BY RLP.

PART 1 (ONE)

The pulsating winter rain pounded my soft skin. I tried to escape it's wrath but the pervasive force of nature, like an unrelenting ball bearing bomb which buries each piece of shrapnel deeper than the last, was inescapable. I turned to Casia, my hunting partner. We had covered these woods for food for almost a week now, with little success. The harsh Serbian climate at this time of the year, especially in the open fields, did not make for successful nut gathering and we would be lucky if we made it through to Spring, but we always found a way.
"We need to find shelter!" I shouted, barely audible over the amplified crashing of water to ground. She responded by taking the lead, drawing me over to piece of corrugated iron which had been mercilessly torn in to two pieces and left to the woods. The lefter most piece was sunk into the knoll and provided temporary relief, we huddled under it and contemplated our next move.
"We can't stay here for long, Casia."
"I know Ru, just for twenty minutes, please. I need a rest."
"Ok, but we must move again soon, we must keep on the lookout for food."
"Ok."
She looked ready to capitulate under the weight of malnourishment and fatigue, so I leant over and kissed her.
"mmm."
"We'll find something soon, I promise."
"mmm."
I looked up towards the sky. It was late afternoon but already the night was closing in and the ominous pigment in the cloud overhead was also present in clouds as far away as the eye could see. Soon it would be dark and we would have to make camp for the night. I told Casia that we should consider spending the night here, it would allow her time to rest and navigating in the dark in this weather would cause more problems than they would solve. She closed her eyes and fell asleep. I watched her light breathing for a few minutes, smiled to myself and hopped back into the rain. I would provide food for her by morning.

asdasd

deleted pending discussions

Well Monday was a good day, i was pretty much high all day off benzo's some interesting things happened that usually would have sent me into despair (deperresive, grandoise thinking about how my tire and wheel popping/breaking means that ima failure) but since i had taken 2mgs clonpozam and 1 mg buprenorphine i felt fine. BTW i was on my way to court at about 6 am when it happened so i had to call and call and cal until some one at the court house finally responded, and everything worked out the court was rescheduled for next month and there were no penalties or fees.
Since i ended missing court it allowed me to get to calss on time and that is what i did for most of te day. Class's were good and interesting though i found myslef increbably sleepy in between my last two class's.
Went to bed at about 11:30-12 midnight. Had to get up around 5:15am and I did ate breakfast then sent on my way, so I probably got about 5&1/2 to 6 hours of sleep, I slept like a rock
I ate a bowl of (organic, all natural in true hippie fashion)yogurt an granola along with a toasted english muffin with butter and honey spread on each piece. Plus I consumed my vitamin/supplement packet with breakfast. I have really started to notice an increase in energy and motivation which i believe is from the vitamin.supplement packet.

Now I really did not eat a lunch

I began my trip at 4.30pm.
I did 175mg Diphenhydramine, 2mg Alprazolam, 250mg Aspirine, 60mg Caffeine, 250mg APAP, 1ug Clonidine, and after half an hour another 25mg Diphenhydramine. Also I have a full water bottle at my reach.

I'm playing Yume Nikki so my mindset would be as fucked as possible.

5.40 - The feeling are intense now. My eyes by itself, and I feel my muscles really heavy. Gonna play a little more and then go to bed to listen to music. I'm not particularly discomfort, and sometimes I see tiny traces in the corner of my eyes.

6pm - feeling a little out of breath but nothing serious. I'll go to the bed with phone, hope I don't fall asleep while listening to music.

I walked around the city with my friend high on heroin with her. Yeah, I know great job of me for going on another heroin binge. So my friend and I walked around the city and we kept doing heroin. Stopping in numerous bathrooms, doing a some bags and repeat. We walked across the city and as it turned dark I ended up near the bridge where I threw all my pain and tears into. I told my friend I needed to sit for a second because I wasn't feeling good. My stomach began to turn and I wasn't sure if it was because of the heroin or just my thought of you.

As I sat on the bench I looked across the street and saw myself standing at the bridge remembering the night I wrote a letter on the first anniversary of your death. I put the letter in a glass bottle and walked there with my mother. I threw the letter into the river and as I saw it traveling down the stream it felt like I was letting go of everything; my pain, the neverending tears and even you. I began to cry as my mother took me in her arms. The tears wouldn't stop and I finally felt as if I could move on. I would no longer dwell over your death, but live for myself and for you... remembering everything you did... and the happiness you brought me. So as I sat high on the bench I quickly realized that if being high is my definition of living then I'm clearly doing it wrong.

I then began to tell my friend about that night as we sat on the bench nodding on heroin. She asked how you died and I told her a heroin overdose. She really couldn't say a word but I didn't expect her to... how would she know what to say to that? It probably made her uneasy too because just like me she knows we shouldn't be on heroin. Hey, she just got out of detox not too long ago but went straight back to this demon... I fell back into this neverending cycle too. I wonder if we both will truly ever get clean or will this be the end of her... will it be the end of me?

I began to feel uneasy as we sat there so I told her I was ready to walk. I couldn't sit there because all I could think about is you. What you must think of me... I wonder if you're disappointed? As I did my last bags today and held the straw up my nose, snorting the last of my dope all I could think of was you. I even felt you over my back tonight. It felt like you were there... I could hear something telling me to stop and maybe it was you. I know seeing me do heroin must hurt you. I'm so sorry. I know if you were here you would have shook some sense into me.

How can I continue to do this? My mother told me if I continue to use dope then your death will be in vain. She is completly right. How can I do heroin after losing you to it? I know it numbs all the pain but one day I won't have to worry about numbing the pain because I will be laying in a casket... its so evident it will happen if I keep going at the rate I'm going and I don't want that. It scared me how my mom told me about the dream she just had and she was burying me. She told me she will not allow that to happen because if shit keeps going the way it is she's going to intervene.

Oh how I feel terrible for putting my mom through all this pain... I remember how horrible it was to have to worry about you all the time and not knowing if you were okay. I hate how now I am putting my own mother through this. She doesn't deserve this. I need to do better and I can. I need to do this for her and for you but most of all for myself. I just don't know how to stop for good. Its easy to "quit" but I always pick this habit back up. That isn't quitting... just a measly break.

All I know is it doesn't feel good to disappoint you, my mother or anyone for that matter. I love and miss you I really wish you were here because you could help me get through anything... If only I could turn back the hands of time. If only but if only will never be.

Since I do not post pictures in the forums anymore, I figured I would share a few with my Bluelight friends. Hope you enjoy!
NSFW just to reduce clutter on the page.

What if I never was sexually abused?

What if I never followed through with the abortion?

What if I never met my ex?

What if I didn't leave myself so emotionally vulnerable?

What if I was never in an automobile accident?

What if he never cheated on me?

What if I stuck to my religion and the wholesome friends I made?

What if.... my life was different? Would I have ever became addicted to drugs? Was it a disease just waiting for the right time to blossom? Would I have became addicted to painkillers regardless of getting into the car accident and severely being injured? Was I predisposed to this? How would I have found the relief painkillers brought me if I never obtained them through the auto accident? Where would I have gotten them?

It seems like addiction was just "in the stars" for me. Scientists and researchers say that a child who has family that has suffered addiction is much more likely to become addicted to drugs. Well no one in my family has substance abuse issues. No one. No one in my family has serious mental illness. What happened to me? Why did I turn out to be the fucked up one?

Well its Sunday, at work around 10 am
Sleep,
Quality: pretty good, did not wake up or have bad dreams or anything, actually I woke up at about 6:30am for some reason, took a piss and then went back to sleep for an hour.
Length: from 12:30-1:00am till about 7:30. So between 6 to 7 hours of sleep.

Diet: yogurt, granola and strawberries plus a cinnamon roll and coffee, vitamin/supplement packet around 8:00.

Substance intake: buprenorphine, 2mgs, IN ~9am
2 more mgs of buprenorphine around 2:30(why, I don't know)
Plus 200mgs of tramadol at 4:00pm(making me feel kinda sick now)

Mood & Motivation: feel good, mood is pretty good, kinda tired though and my motivation is low.

ok so last night i was chatting to model and her pals live where she was at a live show or something. anyway i showed her the rita ora sextape (not all of it but pretty much two thirds). i asked her to ask around between her social circles to see if she could find a buyer.

to be continue...

Out here on the farm about to load up some hay.
Sleep:
Quality: slept soundly, only woke up once when my girls loud po-dunk aunt and cousin showed up at the house around 11pm
Length: slept for about an hour from 10-11pm and then slept from 12 last night til 7am this morning sp I got about 7 to 8 hours of sleep.

Substance intake: 7:30am, buprenorphine, 2mgs IN

Diet: Around 7:30, poptart, small cup of coffee, vitamin/supplements packet, 1 1gram tums(1000mgs calcium carbonate) to offset some of the acidity of those vitamins/supplements.
Around 9 got an immune builder from smoothieking with whey protein added.

Mood & Motivation:didnt want to get up at first but got going and now im pretty motivated to get this hay, and ready for work. its a beautiful day out here.

I swear... tilll lately just started up again.8(

My heroin addiction just continues to get worse and worse...it's getting to the point where I kinda want to stop but at the same time I don't plus I can't. I'm on suboxone and while it's made my life alot easier, once a week I will still buy a gram or two of heroin even tho the suboxone treatment is going fine. I just start to crave and bam next thing I know i'm back in the hood getting dope. I'm at the point where i'm doing at least a half gram a day and i'm seriously starting to consider switching to the needle (though I know that'll just make things worse in the long run). Not to mention all my hard earned money is going toward dope. I really need to save up for a new car and get my own place. But that's not happening until I quit for good. I feel like if I don't stop soon things will get alot worse before they get better...dreams of shooting dope can't be a good thing right?

I'm just tired of this shit but if a suboxone script can't get me to stop using then what will? That's where the hopelessness comes in...I don't have the money to go to rehab or get any help other then getting the suboxone script (which is expensive as fuck btw even with my insurance). Not that rehab or NA meetings would do me any good anyway because i'm just not ready to completely give it up yet and I have no idea if I ever will unless I hit rock bottom (which I don't want to happen btw!). Sobriety seems so unbearable too especially since I have work, school, and anxiety issues. I just don't see sobriety doing me any good even though neither does having an escalating heroin habit.

Its Friday evening around 7pm
Sleep:
•Quality; drank the night before before but not much(I vary rarely drink)so the quality of my sleep probably wasn't the best, but I have had the day off today to recuperate
•length umm hard to say went to bed sometime around midnight to 3 in the morning, woke up around 9. So I got anywhere from 9-6 hours of sleep last night.
Deit: ate a bowl of life cereal followed by my vitamins/supplements, and an orange for breakfast ~10am
~2 chicken salad sandwhich and kettle chips
~6:30 3 pigs in a blanket (earlier a plum) and some cookies.
Substance intake: woke up and smoked a bowl of some kill ~9am
Buprenorphine, 3mgs, IN, 9:30
1mg lorazepam IN & oral, around 10:30
Alpralozam, 2mgs oral, from 3:30- 5:00
Mood&motivation: hung over but in a good mood, until around 1 and up until about 3:30. (hence the benzos...)
going to bed now and i don't think I'll have any trouble sleeping
around 8(its 8:10 now) ambien Cr (a z-drug not sure which one it is definitely my fav especially compared to epiziclone, lunesta.) half of a 12.5mg pill so 6.25mgs IN. Feeling dandy...

I'm sitting in the waiting room at my New York dentist. I have come to know this room very well. Tuesday night I was indulging in my latest addiction, coconut and lemon cake, when I bit into something very hard. As luck would have it, a molar had disintegrated.

Unfortunately, the week before I had agreed to go through with a root canal. For the dentally naïve among you, a "root canal" is an attempt to save a tooth in which a cavity has developed despite having had a cavity filled in the same tooth previously. They remove the core of your tooth, the pulp, and then the "root canal" is excavated. At the bottom of the tooth there is 1 to 3 canals that need to be painstakingly cleared of rotten pulp. The dentist then fills the canal(s) and tooth itself with gutta percha, a tree sap product that resembles rubber cement.

For people of my generation a root canal has nightmarish connotations. I can remember my mum being knocked out for a week over one. However, today it is a lot different. It is, with a skilled dentist, more or less as troublesome as getting a filling. My dentist had wanted to wait a week before starting the process which can take up to 4 seperate visits. As I said, my molar imploded in the meantime.

After a sleepless night Tuesday I woke up bright and early and came to my dentist's office expecting to have the molar pulled. As I entered the building the over-chatty doorman gleefully told me that Wednesday is my dentist's regular day off. Since when? In any event I sheepishly thanked him and left in search of relief.

One great thing about New York City is that it is chock full of dentists and doctors. I went into a shiny bright dental clinic and of course the very ffirst question concerned my dental coverage. After finding that I am fully insured without a deductable the receptionist was a lot sweeter. After filling out the paperwork she told me, "Um, today is the dentist's day off but I can fit you in first thing tomorrow." By now I am getting peeved to say the least.

Rachamim: "Why would you not tell me that BEFORE I filled out the 50 sheets worth of paperwork?"

Receptionist: "I'm so sorry sir, I thought you understood that the dentist will not be in until tomorrow."

Rachamim: "Yeah, well my mind fucken' reading skills are a bit rusty but if you bend over I will attempt to deeply search your brain cavity."

Receptionist: "Ohhhh, I hope you feel better."

"Whatever"...slam the door...exit stage left.

Next I walked into a sleazy looking dental clinic and asked if there was actually a dentist on the premises. I felt such a sense of relief when she answered in the affirmative. With noone else in the waiting room I was ushered into a small room where a dumpy looking dental hygienist took a full set of xrays, almost making me vomit three times as she shoved the film deep into my gullet.

Next I was ushered into a treatment room. I look up and lo and behold, the only wall decoration was a poster for the 1980s film "Doc Hollywood." When I saw that I should have got up and ran, fast. Why would you spend money to buy a poster of a 30 year old movie that noone cared about? Did they REALLY think that THAT created some sort of ambiance? In their defence, perhaps it was hiding some disgusting stain.

In walks a South Asian dentist. That made me nervous. Naturally, after examing my mouth a dentist inevitably asks me what caused all that major damage. If the dentist was a Pakistani or Bengladeshi (in other words, a Muslim) telling how I was wounded while fighting Muslims in Lebanon isn't going to make him warm up to me. If he were a Hindu he just might want to invite me to dinner but unless he tells me his name there isn't any way to tell.

Without introducing himself he immediately picks up the implement they use for teeth cleaning and begins scrubbing my teeth! Trying to rationalise this I told myself he is just super meticulous and wanted a clean working area before extracting the molar. Finishing in perhaps 3 minutes, he told me in an accent that sounded exactly like "Apu" from "The Simpsons," "You need to have 2 teeth pulled and you have an infection in your gums." I nodded my head and said, "Sure." His next comment floored me:

"You will have to go to the dental surgeon, there are 2, you can pick whichever location is more convenient for you."

Rachamim: "What? You cannot pull them here?"

Apu the Dentist: "Yes, I cannot do here sir. You have an infection and I would not be able to properly numb your jaw."

Rachamim: "So now I have to take ANOTHER taxi and once again go in as a walk in?"

Apu: "Yes. I can give you something for the pain if you want."

Rachamim: "Yessssssss."

Apu: "OK" and he fucken hands me a script for 20 Ibuprofens. If I was wired any tighter personality wise I would have probably strangled him. To compound the issue, Wednesday is a day I regularly go without methadone (I do so 2 times a week to give myself a break, it is too sedating sometimes). To say the least, my jaw was throbbing.

I didn't even fill the script. Instead, I bought some Ambesol, a topical anesthetic and went back to the flat. Bright and early the next day, Thursday, I returned to my dentist's office only to have that same glib doorman tell me that my dentist was taking an unscheduled day off. Uggggggghhhhh! At least I was going to the methadone clinic where I doubled up by taking one of my take homes, for a total of 440mgs and bought myself some relief.

After midnite the pain returned in force and voila, here I am.

I will continue later...

I really need to keep track of how the meds I'm taking are effecting my mood because I've been having random suicidal lows and anger issues. I know I'm not easy to live with. My mom seems convinced I have borderline personality disorder, but I'm pretty sure most of my mood swings are caused by taking too little/too many pills and wallowing in negative thoughts instead of living life and setting goals.

Prescriptions
Dexedrine (2 10mg spansules)
Celexa (10mg)
Klonopin (1.5mg)

I recently requested that my psychiatrist switch out my 20mg Adderall XR prescription for Dexedrine since I've read that the l-amp can contribute to anxiety and depression. While he was quick to comply, he didn't seem to think that the Dexedrine would be much of an improvement.

Things to keep track of:

• Meds
• Supplements (if any)
• Sleep
• Mood

So besides the fact that this site is not solely about Heroin (although I wish it was sometimes - since it's pretty much all I think about during the day), I intentionally avoided giving it a name like Memoirs of Heroin Addict, or My Junky Addiction, or Diary of a Junk Fiend. Why? Because if you try to search for heroin blogs and come across anything that sounds remotely like this - it's going to be 1 of 3 things.

1. Tragically hip doper, who is too dark for this world, and you won't understand anyway. He's already resigned to dying, so he's a self fulfilling prophecy - Giving those of us who like our lives, and would prefer to go living, even with dope, a bad name. They say things like "I was born an infant crackhead to an impoverished baby mama, ignored, abused, abandoned for 15 years. And then I stuck a sharp in my arm, and my life changed forever"

2. The current recovery Junky. The ex addict who is now equally as addicted to support groups and therapy work, as they ever were to drugs. And Lord Almighty, if you suggest that "recovery" may not be in the cards for you - will you ever get an earful about how you deserve to be happy, and free yourself from the bondage of escapism through substance abuse. They say things like (and this was a direct quote to me once - I grabbed it from a PM):

"Go to the nearest mirror. Drink in your reflection for a brief moment. And then, out loud, whilst looking directly into your own eyes, tell yourself "You're beautiful. You deserve happiness. You deserve to be sober. At the moment, things are not okay. But I will be okay. I love you."

3. The user educator. S/he hasn't quite managed to quit yet, but they know EVERYTHING about the social and legal ramifications of drug use - buying, selling, quitting, therapy, not giving up. But as enlightened as they try to sound. They were the Kingpin at the time of their heaviest use. And no matter, who they are talking to or what type of addiction you've gone through. It's not like theirs. THEY were addicted because they were trying to suppress the memory of being raped at 16 by an uncle. And it took YEARS of therapy to realize that. But even though they might go 6 months at a time without using, the relapse is inevitable. And the pattern starts all over again, but the holier-then-though attitude remains the same.

Me? I'm none of those. Yeah, I guess there is some kind of chemical dependency. I go through withdraws when I don't use, blah blah blah, and yeah, I am in therapy for it. BUT. I like heroin. I like the high. I played a game where I hid it from every single person of significance in my life for over 10 years. But now that I'm open about it, I love it. Yeah there are still some shitty things, like my bf not wanting his dad to see me over Christmas, because my arms are too pin-cushin-y. But overall, I take it at face value. I'm not tragically hip, I lead a Leave it to Beaver childhood, and I've had basically no serious traumatic events in my entire life (until just recently, but I was using for 9 years before that, so I don't think it counts). I just like drugs. All drugs. But yeah, I lean towards junk. Whatever. Stay off my back about it, and yeah maybe I'll think about cutting back, not... NOT quitting. That's not in my vocabulary. I'm no quitter, sir!

That is why I felt such a sense of relief when I came across this blog... Finally... let's put some humor behind this thing... this somber, sober thing called Heroin. Even I can't deny there are some really shitty things about it - but adding humor doesn't trivialize it. It just makes it human. So, may I present to you...That Guy Is On Heroin.

Some pics of archived months, showing people in the various forms of nodding off. Living in Downtown LA at Pershing Square, I can definitely relate to seeing this on the streets, on a not to infrequent basis, lol.

Thank you, thank you, thank you for making me laugh. And for keeping the streets of Baltimore free from Zombies, who would no doubt go after my stash first. (if I even lived near Baltimore). But with you in the streets, fighting for us, I feel I'm in a safer world.

::Tips hat in respect::

So in another week, I am once again trying to stop using Heroin for a couple weeks at least. I have never been able to make it past 3 days,, so if I can pull this off I will feel very proud of myself. So as I try to get things ready to start the process, I figured I would focus some of my energy on things that suck about drugs and drug use, instead of spending my time studying drugs, pining over drugs and listening to Lou Reed – which is my normal course of action during times like this. So let’s cut out any bullshit and head straight to the punch. I present – 15 Things That SUCK About Drugs!

On Toilet

1. Opiate Constipation. Need I say more. OUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Nothing more painful when it final does push its way out. All you can do is sit on the toilet, crumpled over in a ball, and screaming “Please help me Lord!” Unless that’s just me… in that case… ignore this one, Girls don’t pop. Public Service Announcement: Don’t forget your Deculex!

2. Blowing bad coke. One line of bad coke and your noise is Fucked for days. Over last years NYE run in NYC, the first night we got bad coke. Two lines and my nose was destroyed. We got good coke for the rest of the trip, and I couldn’t enjoy it because my damn bloody nose hurt so bad from two fucking lines of that cut shit. Really – no need to ever do anything besides slam coke anyway… the only reason I’ll do lines is because of the social stigma around locking yourself in a bathroom to cook it up. Which brings me to my next point.

Seriously? Yep, this is pretty much all IV users I know

3. The social stigma around IV use. Yeah, everyone knows that heavy IV use is bad for your veins and bad for your body, with all sorts of negative possibilities. Abscesses, needles breaking off in your arm, Staff collapsed veins. But why people assume everyone that IV's is going to die prematurely, and live a hopeless life in the meantime, is beyond me. But I don’t see why if one choices to IV a drug (which when done properly, is not an intrinsically dangerous activity.) that makes you any worse of a person than someone who blows lines or smokes everyday. Yes, once you IV it’s hard to go back to anything else, BUT all Routes of Administration are clinically proven to cause addiction and can be equally as harmful *According to the study by the National Institute on Drug Abuse*. It’s this freaking trypanophobia or aichmophobia, belonephobia, or enetophobia – or whatever you want to call a fear of needles – that has everyone so up in arms against other people doing it.

4. People that live in the state of California or other states where having a medical marihuana card is not only readily available, but practically required for citizenship in the state. And then on top of that – talk about how good their weed is. Which is one of either two things:

1. Not good at all – in fact it reminds me of the crap from college. Don’t offer it to me, we’re smoking my weed. Period. And stop acting offended, I hold all my drugs to high standards. Save yours for when your home alone and don't embarrass yourself. OR

2. Bought for them by their friend with a card.

Just go out and get your own! If you don’t want to get the fancy card they all try to trick you into (fyi – it’s not your actual prescription and can’t legal protect you in anyway. You need to carry your actual paper recommendation for that), it can as little as $35 bucks. That was what I paid at the Cannabis Cup last year, where I renewed, even though I still had some time left, just because it was fast and easy. And they were processing people through the line like a slaughter house – I was in and done within 6 minutes.

5. Old black men that go around to head shows in Los Angeles, like say, at The Greek, and try to push these ridiculas looking mushrooms, and fake opium around. Those mushrooms don’t even slightly resemble real psilocybin mushrooms of any sort…. and your opium smells like incense from Venice Beach. Stay clear of these guys. They hit up every head show.

6. The popular rumor that plugging turns you gay, or you wouldn’t possibly do it if you weren’t already secretly gay. I’m here to set the record straight once and for all. Yes – if you plug (or boof, or booty bump, or whatever you want to call it) you will immediately want to suck cock if you are male. Scientific proven fact.(I forgot the source – I’ll try to find it later or something.) Now let’s put the subject to rest.

7. The archaic and assigning expression, SWIM. If I open a forum and I see the word SWIM sticking out like a sore thumb on the page, I will immediately shut down the site and go to bluelight for my answers, where they specifically tell people NOT to use that an acronym. Everyone knows your talking about yourself. You’re not being cute. It’s not going to protect you from the law. And if for so dumbass reason you are using it in a sentence like “SWIM has a meth lab in their house in Marietta Georgia, and I find such-and-such the best method to not blow up my kitchen.”, maybe you should reconsider the illegal and personal information you are posting on the World-Wide IntrerWeb on a Drug Message Board that logs your IP address every time you sign in.

8. Ugh, I’ll say it. As bad as constipation is – Opiate Withdraw. Far worse. ‘Nuff said about that. The thought makes my spine cure. I’ve had enough of the Cold Sweats already today, I don’t need to trigger more.

9. Loosing, dropping, boiling over, blowing across the room… Any act of “God” that diminishes or destroys your pile o’ precious drugs. I’ve been the cause, your roommates been the cause, YOU’VE been the cause, it happens. But Lord Almighty, it sucks when it does. Your only hope is that you have a stock pile accumulated somewhere.

10.Selling anything to IV users that’s not what it’s supposed to be or has additives that haven’t been pre-tested. I’ve put some N-A-S-T-Y shit in my veins, believing I’ve bought what I was told. When you are dealing to IV users, it’s a totally different game, you could kill someone. I spent a WEEK shooting MSM thinking it was Meth once, let alone all the 99% fake blow and a couple incidents of MDMA/Moon Rocks that fucked me up (not in a good way) after slamming.

11. Speaking of slamming – can’t leave these little beauties out…. abscesses, staff infection collapsed veins, missed meth shots, scar tissue, IM soreness, phantom veins, track marks, blown-out veins. Trying to shoot for 3-4-5 hours and not being able to hit – or IM cause now your rigs filled with blood. Anything along these lines. Yeah, IVing can come with a great pay off being 100% bioavailable and instantaneous, but damn there are some shitty things about.

12. Street dealers in downtown LA that threaten to stab you with their knife “cause I’m not afraid to go to jail. You think I won’t stab you just to stay out of jail?!?” Just because you asked what else they have, instead of immediately buying the Crack they’re pushing – and wasting their time at 2am! They’ll stab you!

13. When police monitor a area that is constantly swarming with people buying/selling drugs, and target one or two people, just to make their presence known. Every person in a 5 block radius is dirty, or high. You know it’s not going to stop, we know your presence isn’t going to make it stop. Just park your car down the street and wait for an emergency, like a mugging, or rape, then jump in when people need you. Same goes for security at shows – 90% of the people are packing dirty. Drop the pretense. If you want to ban glass – more power too you. Take it all. Just accept the fact that drugs are everywhere. It hasn’t changed in 100 years, nor will in for another 100. Where there is live music, illegal drugs are present.

14. Raw mouth after a night of ecstasy binging… or as you young folks call it, Molly. Either way – MDMA in all it’s forms. It’s fun. It makes you dance all night. Provides some great sex. But damn my mouth is sore after a night or two of rolling. No matter what precautions I take. Anyone have a remedy for this??

15. Drug hands. I hadn’t painted my figure nails since I was in high school. Now I’m required to paint them weekly, just to cover up the black grossness that penetrates the skin and gets under the nail. I can’t lick my fingers without getting this nasty taste, even though I’ve washed my hands like 8 times since last time I used. It permeates, and doesn’t go away!

Bonus! ANYONE WHO COMPLAINS ABOUT THE SMELL OF DMT! GET OVER IT – FOR BEING THE MOST AWESOME DRUG ON THE PLANET, IT’S OKAY TO HAVE A COUPLE DOWNFALLS, LIKE SMELLING LIKE BURNING PLASTIC AND DEAD BODIES AND STICKING TO EVERYTHING IT TOUCHES. BESIDES, I GENUINELY DON’T MIND THE SMELL. DON’T KNOCK IT TILL YOU’VE TRIED IT.

Next time I hear someone complain about the smell, I’m going to offer to pack their pipe with my fine weed, and blast that shit with DMT. Takes ages to get the smell out, I’m not sure if it ever really comes out. And if you ask to borrow my bowl (packed with weed) ya gotta take the extra DMT flavoring with it, no complaints Smile

Getting clean is giving me a sense of nostalgia.

It brings me back to how I felt before drugs took over my life- carefree and happy. I got addicted at 19 to opiates. But from about 14-18 I was so full of vigor, laughter, I was a FUN person to be around, I had so many friends, I was active with family, religion, going on random road trips... All of that stopped when I made drugs a priority. I became withdrawn, snappy, irritable, tired. I would make up excuses to skip out on activities associated with friends and religion. I did it to myself. I distanced myself from everyone. Now here I am, almost 1 week clean, and I feel like I didn't mature at all. I still want to be that carefree kid I was. I feel like I missed out on a part of my life. I'm so alone; my only real life friends are probably my cousin that I live with and his friend that he has over sometimes. Everyone else- I pushed away. I wish I could just pick up where I left off at 18; I barely even remember my drug clouded years anyway.

If I never did drugs my life would be so much different. All of my friends from that period in my life have obviously made other friends, graduated college, some have even gotten married! And here I am. A 21 (almost 22) year old with nothing to show for almost 3 years of my life.

Ill always miss how my life was before I started using, but I have to move on. I need to find peace with myself, accept who I have become, make new friends, and start a new chapter. It seems very daunting but it's necessary. Friends are a necessity and making them is something I very much struggle with because of anxiety.

I'm going through a lot of life changes; finishing chapters and starting new ones. It'll be a tough ride & it's even harder to face when I feel so alone, but I have faith that I can get through it.

So as I'm trying to distract myself from withdrawal and all the terrible things it brings, I figured I'd post my "Edible Cannabis Incident of 2013". It was crazy. Here's what happened...

About an hour after ingestion, I had anxiety come on with no warning. I sat next to my cousin and he tried to calm me down but I started crying and I was like clinging to his arm. I felt like I was in a constant repetitive time loop and I feared I'd be like that forever. The only thing that was semi helping was watching the TV, because a show moves in time, and texting because I could see the time stamps. I curled up and felt my hands burning my face. I thought I died and went to hell. I thought my basement was hell. This is when I really started to lose it. I couldn't talk. I tried but I couldn't. I walked upstairs to my room and laid on my bed. Then I had to pee. But my mind was still downstairs with Tim and I thought I was going to urinate myself. I didn't know where I was. Finally I went to the bathroom. I looked at myself in the mirror and I had huge pupils and bags under my eyes. I went to go lay back down on my bed with a cat. Then I had INTENSE visuals! From weed! I saw a 8 year old me (age I was when I was sexually abused) show me my birth, how I'm fucking up the present, and then I saw myself being resuscitated by medics & then they couldn't do it so I died, and I "saw" my "spirit" floating above my body. I started petting my cat then I snapped out if it and thought "ok this Is reality. You're alive and in bed. You're okay. You're safe" Then I texted my mom and drifted to sleep.

I don't understand myself.

hey guys this is just a psa regarding vivid entertainment. im sure many of you have heard of them, but perhaps some of you havent. basicaly they are an adult indistry company who film, produce, distribute and sell pornographic moves. nothing wrong with that its all legit.

now the problem comes when you try to contact them aqbout an issue or question you may have. i will give you an easy example ok, a guy who wel will call alan east emailed the company after getting absolutely no respose from the phone number (which would have been very expensive to call you see). his email was poloite, to the point, and had all of the nesseary details which could reply a very quick reply. he sent the email on wednesday just gone and has no reply today (monday). there wasnt even a simple no thank you reply which would have been common courtesy, instead ignorance seems to be running rife through this 'company'j, if they are big enough to be called this.

the original email, its contents and what was to follow through would have made vivid a lot of money and would have also provided mr east with some money to restart his life and stop taking drugs.

its also important to note that several members of this forum can collobarate this story and prove that the said content is indeed true. although they only saw brief clips (because of copyright/theft worrys) thye will confirm for you of the authenticity.

yeah so thats it, just remember next time you cinsider buying porno, just mark vivid off your list, they will take your money but dont actually give a shit about the consumer.