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after the good times come the bad
You were always a crazy psycho

can you believe that, being a crazy psycho
just imagine a moment this very moment

when your mother tells you she knows you are a psycho
and doesn't want you to enjoy pleasure ever again

I hope you feel suicidal,
because what happened was wrong

and just after that- wrong, so very much more wrong
because you continue to haunt me and cause more pain

I took no pleasure, only pain, liberation was escape

There was no master slave game, there were no rules
nothing to stop the "game" you were a torturer

You know nothing about intelligence, you are the loser,
it left me and settled in you and will remain there forever

You are the spawn of satan
no one should ever see, hear or touch you ever again

NO ONE








sick fucker, I wanted my stuff, and then I would have left, maybe after beating you to a pulp, fuck you debaser, you are nothing, you are the loser.

The music is calling.
So is the pain.
So are the pills.
They scream a morbid symphony,mapping out my destiny,confined within the space inside my skull...

http://imgur.com/YCZIM

Yep. That's an actual shard of meth we picked up recently.

6am, I've been lying in bed for hours hitting the pookie, smoking a little meth. Been dreading the morning, since it will be my first morning without H in Lord knows how long. I've made the commitment once again (but this time by my own free will and volition) to quit my sweet Brown Sugar for 12 days. (Maybe 14, we'll see how I feel by the end of the 12 days).

My SO is quitting for way longer, (like around a year) and I'm trying to be respectful. This was his last day for meth (his weak spot at the moment) so he wanted to do it till the last minute, which I would too. But now all I want is to feel that lustful sensation of a spike penetrating my veins, and that beautiful sight of a red plume bursting through the syringe filling any air pockets, and giving you the signal of quick relief and release.

Perfect shots, like you have a fresh arm, ripe for the slamming. And thank goodness I had two in a row, deposit a nasty meth miss and an abscess currently. Yesterday I spent three hours trying to find a place for one fix without any luck, and by that time I'd split my shot into two syringes because of the amount and thickness of blood, drained half a syringe of blood clots, and IMing was out of the question. *just FYI for those that don't know.... you can't IM a shot with too much blood in it. Your body doesn't know what to do with that much blood, and trust me the outcome isn't pretty. Last time for left upper arm was swollen and oh so painfully sore for what seemed like ages. But better than a lot of abscesses I've had.

Times like that, where I poke for hours and hours, wasting much of the day, ripping apart my arm/hands/legs/feet/neck/whatever, that I curse it, and wonder why I do such things. But then, barely 2 hours later, I'm thinking about prepping my next shot. And no matter how much I swore I wasn't going to IV, I'll IM this time - I swear! - whatcha know... before you can say Bob's Your Uncle, I'm swinging my arm to pump blood into it and tying off.

So... I'm facing the morning without heroin. Without IVing. Without my morning sex practically. That orgasmic sensation to check me inbox, make my calls, face my colleagues and generally get on with my day.

That's why I'm here, at 6:30 in the morning now, smoking meth. Meh, it's not doing much for me, but I knew it wouldn't. I wasn't going to sleep anyway, so what's the harm? I have my drug therapy appointment today at 1p. I haven't told her about my commitment yet. I know she'll be happy. I hope I can do it. You can always find junk outside the center (The Center for Harm Reduction, it's also the Needle Exchange). Hope I have the will power.

But for now, I'm still facing my first morning getting out of bed to a stark, cold reality. There aren't even any sharps in the house if I did find that magic nugget.

Now to see if I can get an hour of sleep in before the SO wakes up, so we can get up together, and drink mounds of coffee to start this sobriety thing.Wish me luck http://imgur.com/dCYEU

Anyone ever have that one dude in your group of friends that never knows when to stop getting tore up,usually on a variety of things at one time(in my group this was me,lol) and just ends up passing out hella early with their shoes on(idk why but we had a rule that if u fell asleep with your shoes on during a party you were free game to fuck with)?And the more and more of a buzz you get,the more entertaining the thought of fucking with his passed out ass becomes...This is where the fun begins ^.^ Here are some of my suggestions:

1. While you have your friend close by that is passed out it becomes the perfect opportunity 2 see if farting in their eye really does cause pink eye later on.However,that is only the warm up for when u saran wrap them to a tree outside naked! Imagine waking up from a long night of partying and being hungover,cold,and wrapped to a tree only to discover the reason you are cold is because you are naked...( I have actually been saran wrapped to a recliner,with clothes still on, at a friends house b4. They then proceeded to pick me up about 4 feet off the ground and then drop me.I didn't even budge,lots of klonopins and assorted pain pills that night)...

2. A classic way to fuck with your passed out friend.This one would probably actually be easiest while they are heavily buzzed. Go out and get another tattoo but pay the artist 2 make it something completely different,insulting, and preferably profane than what your friend wanted. This way they will have a memory that will last a lifetime of the consequences of doing something in excess. Even when covered up,they would still know that its there!Some ideas for some tats: Sperm Dumpster with arrow pointing down on lower back,Fort Knocked Loose:US Sperm Bank Main Deposit Vault with custom Sperm related money money appearing to fall from the words at their lower back into their ass hole.Also you cant go wrong with a good ole fashioned cock tattoo anywhere on their body,just have some kind of dick related quote above it. It is imperative to remember to place the penis tattoo in an area as visible as possible so that everyone will ask about it.

3. I took this one and made it my own.Take your passed out friend strip them down naked, shave their eyebrows, and put them in a dress. That has been done before though,so I thought of an addendum for this one ^.^ Once these things are done tie their hands and feet, load them in the vehicle(DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE THOUGH,MAKE SURE THE DRIVER IS SOBER!), and proceed to a fairly public place. Once there make sure it is clear enough and simply dump them at the front doors of the business ^.^

4. This one would be messed up to do. Take your friend and place them in a room by themselves and mess up things n the room and plant a used but broken condom in their visible sight 2 make it appear that they had an extremely wild night of sex. When they wake up to this they will already be like wtf? This is when the other friends tell him that some girls came over last night and that (insert name of local super slut) was one of the girls and that they had slept with them. Also tell them about the conversation that never happened that they had with the super slut earlier in the party when she confided n them that she was HIV positive but despite knowing this he still slept with her because they were "in love"...Of course let your overly zealous partying friend know b4 they do anything irrational that it was all made up but should hopefully now recognize some of the consequences of sex in an extremely inebriated state and how much more risk can be created by adding unsafe sex to a situation,especially considering that there is no cure for some STDs...

5. This one would take a good bit of prepping to get right. Take a room in your house that is closely connected with an exit (the kitchen and dining room would probably work nicely) and then paint it all chrome, every last bit as to not risk throwing off the joke. Make sure it is cold enough that your friends nipples feel like snow peas and have a table or counter somewhere in the room that is also as cold as possible. On this table have a series of strange but apparently surgical/ exploratory instruments. Take your friend while they are still passed out, place them on the table, shave every hair on their body, and grease them up with baby oil. The most important part of this whole "joke" is to be sure you are dressed up as an alien standing over them when they snap out of their stupor.If done correctly, your friend should think that they somehow managed to get abducted by an alien and anally probed. No moral to this one, just straight up mind fuck ^.^

A few notes about these five things to do to your FUBAR Friend, don't attempt any of them on your own, use the power in numbers that comes from your group of friends to assist in pulling off these embarrassing "jokes" (calling them jokes is almost too twistid,lol). At least this way your FUBAR friend will pretty much have no choice to either take the punishment or dish it back out one by one on the group if they ever happen to pass out. Any extra additions to these five would be appreciated and I am sure they would only add to the hilarity of the topic.

Pariahprose 2-15-13

Haven't updated this in a while. Here's some more snippets of what I've been getting on with outside the doors of bluelight

This is going to be a blog with a general self psychoanalysis of the things that effected my life when they happened and that still are till this day.I know what some ppl are asking at this point: Whats the reason of such a revealing thing?Are you not afraid of ridicule? And of course,how boring is this really gonna be?.

First, the reason I am publicly making access to what some would call intimate information about myself is because I wish 2 show that I am comfortable with myself and my life.Second, comment as you plz,ridicule will not be deleted bc it is part of life. Also, I am not afraid of your ridicule,nor care about it or want your sympathy or your condolances...Finally,let me say that I hope this is far from boring bc while reading thru, I DARE OTHER BLUELIGHTERS 2 ASK THEMSELVES,COULD I PSYCOANALYSIS MYSELF IN THIS WAY,MUCH LESS FEEL COMFORTABLE ENOUGH 2 LET THE PUBLIC SEE? It will b this chance 2 compare and contrast my life to the life of the reader. Finally, the most important reason that I do write this is in the hope that it helps ppl...whether it is several ppl or just a single individual...

Introduction By: Pariahprose

EARLY LIFE EVENTS

June 11,1998-Born. I have my mother and father of course,but also a half brother 7 yrs older than me. We have the same mom, but different dads...

July 1,1993- My brother and dad die in Little River.My brother apparently was caught by an undercurrent while trying to save my dad who had had a heart attack in the water

June 30th,1995-My mother remarries. The man she marries has no kids of his own and is actually sterile. They date for about six months before their marriage...
1995-(2004)- Mental abuse and physical abuse,though mostly mental. Called me names at a young age that a kid shouldnt be called, forced me to work in 100+ weather without breaks for water,Left me in the corner sometimes on one foot for hrs on end with the threat of a belt 2 keep me in, talked to me about an affair he had with the neighbor(even had her show me her saggy nasty tits),made me watch porn movies and showed me magazines, took me with him while he was trying 2 get a woman drunk and bring her back 2 our house for an affair n the bed that he and my mom slept in...He was eventually diagnosed Paranoid Schizophrenic

June 21,2001- In a car wreck with my grandmas that killed her,but should have killed me as well.

HOW THESE 4 EVENTS AFFECT MY CURRENT SELF

The first and probably strongest factor that is psychologically at play in my life is the death of my brother and father. This has caused me to want nothing more than to be a father. It has also engrained in me the feeling that part of my meaning in life deals with protecting and healing,as my brother made the ultimate sacrifce to try and protect my father...Their deaths also gave me a very deep feel for the idea/feelings of death(a double funeral is just so overbearing with that concept). However,it should be noted that since I was only five when their deaths happened, I didnt comprehend death really.

The second and probably second strongest factor in my psychology is that of my step dad. I have always viewed him as more of an anti-dad. I feel my mother simply married him to where I would have a father figure in my life(she was just following what she felt was right X.x),though she did not realize I thought of it as trying to replace my father. As for the psychological impact of the mental and physical abuse,the mental abuse altered my perception the most.The name calling resulted in a diminished sense of confidence. The sexual comments,material, and situations caused me to fantasize about sex younger than most and created almost an addiction to porn in a child/teen already shy and socially awkward.His diagnosis showed me an excuse for his behavior(though there is none) and even offered pity,insight,and understanding into his mind.Which resulted in reinforcing aspects of his personality into my own.

The death of my grandmother was my first brush with death. I loved her very much. The smell of twisted metal still makes me cringe and reminds me of the stinch of my grandmas melted flesh on the left side of her face. However,the most profound impact of this wreck was that it took me to this point to grieve for my brother and dad. I didnt know how to deal with the emotions of grief psychologically at this time so it was at this age I turned to drugs to ease those emotions...

These are just the first few major events that have shaped my mindset...more will be posted later...but keep in mind the effect that these have on my psychology of other events in my life...

Pariahprose

Well,work is finally over and Im off for the wkend.No big plans or nothing,just gonna chill with my gf and kids. Gotta go shopping and pay pills 2morrow,so there goes most of my $,lol...But it wil b all right.Go home,play with the kids, and smoke some OMG(synthetic marijuana,wud smoke real but my job drug tests not 2 mention there is only shitty ass mexican compressed weedn my area.

Today was also my first day on my meds,my psychiatrist prescribed me adderall 20mg.Surprised he gave me that since it was only my 2nd time seeing him.Most ppl I have talked 2 say its harder 2 get than that. Took pretty much as presribed today,just had one extra...might have some fun with it 2night though,as I dont plan on taking it everyday.

Pariahprose

edit

Well I'd written a sort of mini-essay a few weeks ago, but turns out I saved it in drafts so it was never published. It doesn't fit the state of mind I'm in now though, so oh well. Maybe I'll 'release it' in the next few days.
But right now it's 1 am, I got back from the gym not long ago and I've been writing a philosophy paper for the past couple of hours, so I can't come up with much. Which is why it's time to indulge in my favorite time-killer, ie. SURVEY TIME

Do you still talk to your FIRST love? Nooo
What was your FIRST alcoholic drink? Lord Richmond whiskey
What was your FIRST job? French teacher
What was your FIRST car? Don't have one yet
Who was the FIRST person to text you today? Friend G
Who is the FIRST person you thought of this morning? Mmh. Friend D perhaps
Who was your FIRST grade teacher? Mme. Solassol
Where did you go on your FIRST ride on an airplane? Seattle
Who was your FIRST best friend & do you still talk? Sarah, and we still see each other regularly
Where was your FIRST sleep over? Probably at Sarah's
Who was the FIRST person you talked to today? Friend G
Whose wedding were you in the FIRST time? Never been to a wedding
What was the FIRST thing you did this morning? Made coffee
What was the FIRST concert you ever went to? Guns'n Roses
FIRST broken bone? Ankle I think? I've broken a dozen, not quite sure which came first
FIRST piercing? Ears
FIRST foreign country you've gone to? Either Spain or Ireland
FIRST movie you remember seeing? No idea
When was your FIRST detention? 7th grade
Who was your FIRST roommate? Never had one
Did you marry the FIRST person to ask for your hand in marriage/ you asked to marry? I'm 19 and happy to say that hasn't happened yet
What was the FIRST sport you were involved in? Judo
What were the FIRST lessons you ever took? Either swimming lessons or cello lessons
What is the FIRST thing you do when you get home? Turn on my laptop



A - Age: 19
B - Bed size: absolutely minuscule
C - Chinese Food Dish: don't like Chinese food
D - Dentist name: Dr. Naveau
E - Early Bird or Night Owl? night owl
F - Favorite color: black
G - Gold or Silver: silver
H - Height: 168cm
I - Ink as in tatto's you have: Led Zeppelin symbols on my right shoulder
J - Job title: well I'm a student
K - Kitchen Meal or Restaurant? restaurant
L - Living arrangements: college dorm
M - Month of birth: december
N - Nicknames: morgie...kind of embarrassed to admit that
O - On time or late: at least 10mn early
P - Pet Peeve: people who make slurping noises when they eat/drink
Q - Quote from a movie: that long quote from the beginning of Trainspotting
R - Right or left handed: right
S - Siblings: younger brother, younger sister
T - Time you wake up: it varies between 7 and 10:30 depending on when I have class
U - Urgent thing on your to do list: laundry, homework
V - Vegetable you dislike: brussel sprouts, oignons
W - Wishing for: a lot of things
X - X-rays you've had: ankle, shin, elbow, neck, thumb, wrist, various toes...most of those multiple times
Y - Yummy food you make: my cream cheese brownies are famous
Z - Zoo Favorite: bears, especially if they're polar bears

Well that was fun definitely going to start posting in here, but back to my essay now

I thought I'd share this short story I wrote a few months ago. I wrote it for an online contest which I got first place for, which was really nice. I think I posted it in Words a while back but thought I may as well put it here too! Hope anyone who reads it'll like it, please feel free to give me your opinion. The prompt was 'love'

The heat is bubbling in my veins. Sweet and poisonous, it oozes through my body, trickling out of a little cut here or there. Stinging me. Every inch of my skin is on fire, but it's a good fire, it's a good fire and I encourage it by thinking about it, obsessing over it, shutting my eyes and seeing the heat run through them, because that way I make sure I don't stop feeling it. I'm outside, but the buildings all around me seem meaningless, a mixture of idiocy and hate, the one tied up in the other, never letting go. I don't see the buildings really - I see the fiery red in the veins of my eyelids because it's burning, it's so hot and it's so good. I don't even want to see the buildings. My target is a bit further, I still need to walk a while before getting there. But I can't forget the heat, or it'll all have been for nothing. Yes, yes the pain, the burning, the visceral assembly of overwhelming emotions, that's what I need right now. At least until I get there, until I get there and do what I have to do, and then it'll be done, and the heat will be gone, it'll get cold again, too cold, just like the other times. I just need to get there, quickly. One foot in front of the other, again, and again, and again, but never thinking about it too much, because if I think about it too much then the heat will go away. The people near the buildings, they're meaningless to me too, going about their pointless and redundant lives, pretending that they're happy, settling with what others imposed on them and convincing themselves that they have the life they've always wished for. But I know what they really want, because I've found it. I've found what we all want, and it's the heat, and the pain, and then to be released from it.

Flashing images dash through my mind as the heat rises. With each pang a new memory jumps into my brain, blinding me, hiding the buildings and the people and reviving the heat. A face, a face keeps coming back, and I know I've seen that face before, I know that I knew that person well, but I just don't know who that person is, because it doesn't matter anymore, all that matters is the heat. And yet the face keeps coming back, nagging me, reminding me of some long-lost part of my life that I can't bring back, and that I'm not even sure I want to bring back - and then suddenly, it's gone, it's gone for good and the heat dies down a bit, so I think about it, relentlessly, as my nails dig into my palms and bring the heat pouring out.

But then I see the face. It's standing in front of me, a few meters away. Its symmetry is horrifying, the sheer beauty of it brings my blood to boiling point and suddenly, I don't know what's happening anymore, but I know the heat is now gone and the long-awaited cold is pouring over me, and the face isn't so beautiful now, with the blood all over it. I guess I just gave it the heat. And the dagger that's in my hand, well, it's filling me with ice. The heat, the overwhelming and destructive unrequited love, well it's left me, it's gone, and the face won't make me feel that love again.

when Murder upon me
upon my dreams installs Itself

it's the Dead Rising

Adventure Time!!!

I love AdventureTime. It's teaching kids such awesome stuff. It's like Samurai Jack was for the 90's and early 2000's.

They need to make more philosophically educational TV shows for kids. I love that they are teaching children the spirit of adventure and even deeper shit, in a world that has no room for adventure.

And the best part. They don't even know they are learning. By watching these situations go down, and being too young to experience them, it is giving them real world advice before they even get there.

And the kids are almost FORCED to relate to the single most main character, because he is the ONLY human in the entire land of Ooo. Since the whole world (and all other humans) were destroyed in what they know as "The Mushroom Wars". It was really a nuclear holocaust, they just got blown into the stone age and don't understand anything else but "The war had mushrooms".

I just watched an episode that taught kids about being in a band for music or a "band" of friends. And the different situations that will occur, and it ended by teaching kids to not lie, and be "Real".

And there are episodes that talk about ndtitl, financial ecosytems and tons of crazy things. And they replaced the word "Cool" with "Math". So they are LITERALLY trying to "make math cool".

How cool is that?

I have discussed positive aspects of the internet but haven't had cause to do so with regard to the opposite side of the coin. People tend to believe anything they read online if it is couched appropriately. I think that in this way the internet is extremely dangerous.

Case in point: This past summer, 2012, there was a flurry of activity after an Israeli Genetecist working at John Hopkins posted an unpublished paper that claimed to prove that Asheknaz (Central and Eastern European Jewry, 85% of all Jews on the planet) are in fact not the progeny of migrating Judaeans who arrived in Europe after the fall of Judaea to Rome in the Second Century CE/AD. For a few decades now there have been many attempts to disprove Ashkenaz Jewry's Semitic origins and instead place their origin in what was the nation of Khazaria, in Central Asia.

The Khazars were a Turkic people who, after migrating from Mongolia established themselves in the Caucus Mountains of Central Asia. In the 9th Century CE/AD, cushioned between the Muslim Caliphate and Byzantium Christianity the Khazarian Monarchy converted to Karaite Judaism, a form of the religion that rejects the Talmud and which does not intermarry with Rabbanite Judaism, the form practiced by 97% of World Jewry. In the Middle Ages Khazaria fell and its people were assimilated into other groups.

Supporters of the Khazar Theory believe that the Khazars then migrated into Eastern Europe, and later into Central Europe and that they formed the bulk of Ashkenaz Jewry. This theory especially appeals to racists and Muslims because it negates the Semitic origins of 85% of Jews and thereby nullifies the Zionist premise of a "return" to the Jewish Homeland vis a vis the establishment of Israel.

There are few problems with this theory from purely common sensical perspectives. Racists and Muslims often point to those Ashkenaz Jews who appear European and argue that their physical appearance shows that they aren't Semitic. I personally laugh at that because I am Mizrachi Sephardi, NOT Ashkenaz and am fair skinned with blue eyes. Indeed, so is the ruling family of Syria, who are Arab. Physical appearances are deceiving. What really makes me laugh though is that supporters of the Khazar Theory never stop to consider that while a minority of Ashkenaz do not appear Middle Eastern (Jeff Goldblum and Hal Linden, both Ashkenaz, look like stereotypical Arabs), not a single Ashekanaz that I know of appears to resemble Ghengiz Khan. "Well what do you expect, Khazaria folded almost 1,000 years ago, they aren't going to still look like Mongolians." Yet the fact that they don't appear Semitic supports your premise?

For educated people though there is a different denominator. Only the Khazar Monarch and its nobility converted and they converted to Karaism. Less than a half of 1% of Ashkenaz were ever Karaites at the height of the movement. The bad blood between Karaites and Rabbinites often results in violence though in the last couple of generations things have settled down.


Lastly, Genetic Science loves Jews because all Jewish groups are highly endogamous. Until WWII inter-marriage between Jews and non-Jews was extremely rare. This makes all Jewish groups perfect subjects for study. More than 300 peer reviewed papers have shown that Ashkenaz do in fact descend from Judaeans who fled Judaea in the 2nd Century CE/AD, during the Roman Jewish War. The rate of admixture on average hovers at just under 12% so that 88% of Ashkenaz are absolutely Semitic. This past summer though, the aforementioned Geneticist began posting his unpublished paper online touting it as the last word in the debate, though a debate only still existed amongst fringe racists and various Muslim groups.

The paper was full of nonsense, quoting unscientific books like "The Thirteenth Tribe" by Arthur Koestler, an author who pushed the Khazar Theory in the early 1970s. The paper was bizarre in that it contrasted two hypotheses, both fringe. Aside from the Khazar Theory, it examined the Rhineland Hypothisis which had Judaeans migrating into Central Europe after the rise of Islam. The author made no mention of the almost universally accepted theory that placed that migration in the 2nd Century, a theory now supported by hundreds of genetic assays which place the date in that same time period. He made dozens of mistakes in historical narration but since he is a dehreed Geneticist working at a reputable institution I decided to consider his "findings." I contacted the author and began corresponding with him in an attempt to see just why someone would risk their career on junk science. I mean, 300 plus papers, and you post an unpublished paper that doesn't even use live subjects but is merely an analysis of other published findings. Why? Yesterday the author sent me an interesting email.

To be continued...

these days must be Highest
I've taken as of late
-should I be awaken
or should I see my Death

-in these days Forsaken
out of sleep -out of sight
spleen of rare abundance
thoughts of instant Disgrace

head fighting into dreams
of the dreaded Hypnos
-in occupied buildings
of otherwise Chaos

I await for the Sins
-to be disentangled
in the space of this bed
to be another -Skin-

In another Body, to feel the Fight within

because apparently people actually read these, i've been feeling a need to update my blog. tonight is the night i guess, i just got done working a seven hour shift with Remmy, and the day's been good to me thus far. i woke up early because the dogs (i'll get to that in a minute) were whining to go out unusually early, let them out and went back to sleep. i considered for a moment staying up those few extra hours to clean the house but decided against it, as i usually just sleep 'til about noon during the week and get ready for work at three.

anyways, i woke up at about 11:30, woke up and smoked a cigarette, took a shower and went to town, where i had to pay a speeding ticket (5 over instead of 15, reckless driving saywut). it ended up being only 125, which i was glad for since i had taken out my total savings, a mere 200, the day before and would have been fucked had it been a larger amount. i got that done and stopped at homeboy's for a minute, we talked, and i went to work.

my shift was pretty easy this time around, i took Remmy to an appointment then came back to my mom's and waited for my sister to get home from babysitting, where Remmy and i ate the arby's that we had bought on the way down. after that we went to get my car from the mechanic's after a long month of having to use my sister's car, apparently they had put the wrong transmission in my car when they put it in the first time around. i took Remmy home, got some food in her belly, and came to my mom's house, where i am now. i have to do a financial report for the equestrian team that i coached this summer, then i get to go home- to my place.

to make a long story short, i was with one of my kids (consumers, whatever) at the recycling facility this past fall and i ran into an old coworker of mine, and she had asked me if i needed a place to stay, that her mother was ill and her dogs needed sitting, that they were cat killers and couldn't be kept at the daughter's house. i told her yes and gave her my number, and within days she had contacted me to confirm that the other girl whom she had offered this opportunity before me couldn't do it, and that the house was essentially mine for the taking. i of course said yes, and i moved in mid-october. i've been there since, buying my own food and laundry detergent, that kind of shit. i admit that sometimes i get lonely and wish that i had somebody to eat or sleep with, but all in all, i absolutely love living by myself. the mother of the daughter with whom i spoke with in october is not doing so well as of now, and it's been made known that the mother is on a limited time frame. what will happen once the mother passes is not something that i'm sure of, but i do know that i should be safe until i at least get my taxes back, potentially setting me up to get my own apartment.

i've also, as you can tell, got my own car, and that is a coincidence in itself. it's a monte carlo and it's all mine as far as the title goes. i've been dealing with a few technical difficulties as far as that goes, but like i said, i just got it back from the mechanic's and she seems to be running like a champ. shit's definitely turned around a lot since spring, and i'd be a fool to not credit God (because seriously, i could not have better arranged that day at the recycling place) and 9 months to the day of recovery, solidly grounded in narcotics anonymous.

it might be a minute before i update my blog again, but i can imagine that shit's only going to get better from here.

i might not be geographically where i am for too much longer, but i am going to be clean for the next foreseeable future and for the rest of my life. homegirl actually offered to get a place together out in colorado where her sister and niece and nephew live once she gets her feet on the ground and is able to get her own place, and i told her i would think about it. it's too early to tell and my money's not right for a move like that quite yet, but we'll see.

i'm also down to one job again, the one where i look after the disable girl and the autistic boy, and that seems to be going as well. if i stay 'til summer then this will be the first job that i have had for a straight year, and i'm also kind of proud of that in a way.

anyways lol, that's about it as far as updates go, although the small nuances and coincidences of where i'm at are far too long and exacting to even consider putting into a single blog, especially one that i don't exactly update on a regular basis.

happy trails, bitches

It sucks that the only time I even consider writing anything here is when I'm especially stressed or exhausted. Tonight I'm both.

The truth is that my life is filled with fantastic gifts that I should be forever grateful for.

The truth is that I am tiptoeing in the wrong direction with some decisions I've made recently. I've spent the last five years systematically building a life that is essentially perfect, but in the last three months I've consciously done things that could turn my world upside down. I haven't got a million dollars in the bank but I've got all the surface stuff and the only ingredient that's missing lately is me.

And no, I'm not getting high. I'm not getting drunk. I'm just finding old thinking and behavior a little too easy to slip back into. I'm not taking satisfaction in the great, simple life I've built. I'm getting pissed off about inconsequential bullshit. I'm justifying doing things I know are wrong. Wrong is the new normal. That's scary. I need to be turning my attention away from my selfish thoughts and towards helping others, but it's hard when you feel like most of what you have to offer has been compromised by recently committed morally reprehensible actions.

In other news I'm going to a new school. It's a new semester. I'm about to be busy as fuck. And I've been a bluelighter for ten years now! Five of them on drugs and five of them off!

It started at age 18 in my bedroom with three of my friends a needle and a tiny bag of heroin. I remember the belt around my arm tight, my whole body clenched with anticipation. I watched the needle intently as he clumsily found the vien and pushed off the shot. I remember waiting and thinking fuck nothings happ- then bam the most intense feeling of my life took hold I dont remember much else for a few hours I suppose I was hanging with my boys having the time of my life or maybe I was puking in the backyard, who fucking remembers?

I wasnt hooked from the first shot I didnt have good access and I was still having fun with phychadelics. So summer ended and I went off to college. It was a literal and metaphorical change in my life I kinda knew the fun was over. I was either gonna make it or fall flat on my face. At the time success was not a term I was familiar with I went crazy drank all the time took whatever opiates I could find. But it didnt feel like addiction to any one thing ecstacy or xanax were just as satisfying as opiates. School was not a priority I passed a couple classes just on pure intelligence but never took it seriosly.So at the end of my first semester I find heroin again. It started with a few runs to the city to hang out with this girl I knew. She was a full blown junkie and I loved the excitement of rolling to the ghetto 6 deep in my car the anticipation the fear at first I found the lifestyle way more addicting then the drug. But I was still living an hour from the city going to school so it wasnt an everyday thing yet. Well the second semester starts and everything in my life went to hell I lost all the people I thought where my friends. So I came home to Birmingham with a very fatalistic attitude I decided to dive head first into heroin.

This apartment was a shithole. Oh shit this darrel was a trip he got 20,000 dollars when he turned 18 and proceeded to blow it all in like 2 months. But he had his apartment paid for and grandparents to send him money. One of the dumbest people I have ever met in my life he lost 5,000 dollars fronting this black guy he didnt know for coke. Anyway we set up basecamp in his apartment turned it into a strait fucking shooting gallery. Ended up turning quite a few of my friends into junkies. Josh ended up being my partner in crime we had just met when I moved back to the city and started hanging with patrick and darrell. We hit it off fast we shared a similar attitude and personality. The next 4 months are a blur of junky politics and unrelenting crazyness.

Man at first it was all fun and games every run to the city an adventure every poke of the needle a chance to meet divinity chill for awhile then gradually come down go home eat sleep and repeat. Money quickly became a problem so me and josh formed a side fiendship we taxed the shit out of this darrel kid gave him cut up shit whatever we had to do to get ours. This went on for a couple months and physical addiction was creeping in. It was starting to dawn on me that heroin was consuming my life like no other drug ever had. I got scared so I told my parents I had a problem and went to rehab.

I had no idea how bad of a decision that was. I was niave I thought I was gonna go there get the cure then be able to continue on as if nothing happened. Instead I got a bunch of spiritual propaganda. I just cant stomach bullshit or the true believers who spew it. In those two weeks I realized I was fucked I wasnt in deep enough to quit, but I could see the cliff looming. It was too late to hit the brakes so I decided to hit the gas. I made the decision about 5 days into my 16 day stay that it was "farther up and further in" for me. So I made it my mission to meet and exchange numbers with every junkie there. I left with a pretty girl on my arm and a legit connection in my phone.

The next months are a blur of trips to the hood and shooting up in parking lots all over the city. Waiting for hours in the heat sick as shit farting burping feeling like death. Until that magic phone call "Come to the blue house" click. Immediatly refilled with life I would pull out of the parking lot and speed to whatever spot he told me. I also remember the nights laying awake in my room to sick to sleep watching shitty movies on HBO. Praying for a change cursing my hubris just wanting it all to end.

newer time and phases, not the stellar imaginings of higher occupancy or renderings of here and now happenings. everything is real and scarred with time's inevitable gaze. we are the children of tomorrow's apologies...

I got to the point in my life where I don't really see a way out, I'm simply stuck. And this time it seems a lot more serious than ever before. I've been addicted to opioids since I was 14, that means 8 years as I'm 22 now. I can't free myself from methadone. I shot up a lot of opioids, took any benzodiazepines and similar compounds I could to ease the pain of the every day life. Eventually I quit shooting up but my tolerance was so huge I couldn't manage stopping abruptly.

Despite all those problems I kept going from class to class, I didn't have great grades as I used to but I passed all exams. Well, I didn't care for grades, how could I if I needed to shoot up at school? Anyway, I started studying chemistry. This had nothing to do with my drug abuse. I simply got interested in it long time before when I had my first classes in my middle school. But things didn't end up so fine. Now the studying system is 3+2 because of the stupid Bologna process and I stopped studying after 3 years getting a degree that is an equivalent to Bachelor of Science. But this guarantees me nothing on the job market. I feel as if I lost 3 years.

I was in London last year. I had a lot of problems with finding a job because I stayed at my cousin's. She's got a child and she expected to get some benefits as she doesn't earn much (well, she doesn't speak English and she's doing much better there than I did having a fucking IELTS Academic test passed). I couldn't give the address where I lived at the bank etc. So I didn't even have a bank account. Also, I'm skinny and have some problems with health so physical work isn't really for me. I couldn't work in renovations as a helper because it's a hard work. I decided to go back to Poland, take up some other profession, and at least finally get a driver's license. But it's hard to pass an exam here, they still expect a bribe although there are now cameras in all cars. But cars are in a very bad shape. When you release the clutch pedal of a car from the examination centre, you can go all the way because it'd been regulated before so the engine stops. Don't get me wrong but I've been driving cars since I was 16, moving a car after starting engine isn't some pro stuff and I did a lot of crazy things not having a driver's license (not that I was involved in some accident or sth, never, I couldn't get a license then). But anyway, I decided I would go back to London in March / April '12. The hell I did...

My mum found a private university and told me to think it over and maybe start IT studies. Well, the class started in October 2011 and nobody told me. So on the first day in February I was shocked people know one another so well... Of course I have to pass all the exams from the first semester and I have to do it before Feb 2013. I've got a big problem with methadone and clonazepam now. It was much better in London where I could get marihuana just like that and it wasn't some freaky stuff, it was a nice mood-lifting, a bit psychedelic but also helping me fall asleep and numbing my body. I got the contact off the street and it was way better than regular stuff kids living in housing estates here smoke. It helped me lower the dose to 10mg in the morning and I was fine without a dose in the evening which was pretty weird as I need split-dosing to survive the day. Now I'm in Poland and if I don't call someone, I can't get weed. Every 2 weeks I ran out of it and I get so anxious I can't call to anybody. Of course I get back to the old dose of methadone right away... This country is like a forsaken place, a week after I came back I was at my old dose because I couldn't cope with my life. And really nothing awaited for me here so I didn't plan on coming for good. But I started studying, I put some money into it. The problem is I can't study. I can't learn, I can't memorize, I can't focus on one thing because of racing thoughts.

I don't know what really keeps me here. I should have mix morphine with some barbiturate and be gone by now because I'm nothing good to myself and I'm nothing good to my mum I live with. She constantly reproaches me for getting addicted and "fucking your life and my life". It doesn't really help, you know... She helped me a lot with my addiction, I don't know where I'd be now if she hadn't been there for me when I was left with no friends. But now it's like she doesn't really believe that I can quit it, not any more. Just like my psychiatrist who just keeps prescribing me clonazepam and doesn't give a damn, it's me who asks about some taper schedule. If I hadn't done anything, I would be still at my old dose. But anyway, when I've got days like these - I mean I've got no weed and I can feel withdrawal symptoms (and they're really terrible with methadone, you don't know if it's the peak or if it's still building up). I guess I would be in a way better situation if I still shoot up morphine. I would go cold turkey and it'd be done in 2 weeks, with methadone I would suffer 2 months, I guess. It's terrible withdrawing from methadone, I did once and that's why I'm so afraid of it and react this way when I wake up and feel bad.

I tried tapering off a lot of times. I really want to quit, it's clear that I get absolutely nothing positive from drinking this syrup and popping clonazepam pills. My tolerance is so high that it's hardly recreational for me at any dose. Marihuana always helped me with obsessive thoughts about the past. If there's no weed to block these thoughts, I have to take more methadone and more clonazepam to free myself from bad conscience...

Concerning my current studies... Well, although I believed earlier, I'm into computer science, it turned out that it's very boring to me and as I seem to have all the makings of a great chemist, I rather useless as a future programmer or whatever. Though programming languages are the only classes I seem to have some interest in, it's probably because I'm interested in linguistics and foreign languages in general, here it functions similarly (e.g. C# represents a C-family language with syntax looking like a hybrid of C/C++ and Java, so if I can program in C++, I can easily learn C# even if I don't know Java, then if I know C#, learning Java would be no problem etc. etc.). But it's much more complicated, just like chemistry isn't just organic chemistry... I'm supposed to be able to take care of servers and networks after finishing my studies. That's something I don't really find interesting, it's far from something I wanted to do when I was younger.

Also, I'm alone. I literally don't have a single friend or even an acquaintance to go to a club or to a pub. My last relationship ended relatively long time ago. I'm totally alone. And if you're alone, it's hard to go anywhere just by yourself. I don't know if I'm shy or what, I suffer from BPD. I don't trust people easily. I wish I met some woman who would make me feel like there was a reason to live. If not for myself, then for her, to make her happy. If she could only understand that though I'm an addict, I want to stop but I'm just unmotivated and she might just be my best motivation. But on the other hand I don't want to put any person into my misery, it's my shit, and I have no right to ruin some woman's life with my addiction if she can find a proper guy without faults like addiction to opioids and benzodiazepines. She'd have to be an addict herself, I guess, to understand me... That wouldn't lead to anything good if there was addiction in our relationship because sooner or later there'd be nothing but this fucking affliction keeping us together.

I don't know what to do. I would have killed myself long time ago because all these money I have to pay for methadone, could be spent on something valuable. I wouldn't be a problem for my mum but when I tell her that I'm ready to go, this hope for finally meeting someone I would love more than anything is vain. I should get rid of it and stop thinking about love as something that would heal the whole situation. I don't deserve love if I'm addicted. Addiction is like a virus, it spreads fast and it enfeebles everything. I wonder, maybe I still lack that bit of courage to take my life... But the right time seems close. I don't care for anything in my life at the moment, everything is a ruin. Also, after so many years of daily intake of benzodiazepines and so many years of shooting up various opioids from straight morphine through street heroin, hydromorphone from Dilaudid, dextromoramide from Palfium, to synthed in the lab compounds like pentamorphone, 6-methyldihydromorphine, N-phenethylnormorphine, 14-substituted 6-ketones, 6,14-endoetheno/6,14-endoethano compounds, morphinans, fentanyls, pethidines, and whatnot... - I guess my brain is not all right. Thanks to abusing benzodiazepines I probably fucked up my brain's bioelectric activity cycles with brain waves totally inappropriate for the situation (for instance I can't sleep like normal people do, marihuana helped me a lot with sleeping, otherwise I sleep like a few hrs a day and it's not at night so I'm tired all the time).

All that I had to offer for that only one is nothing compared to all this baggage from the past. Life with a person like me wouldn't be a happy life. And I think that life is devoid of any meaning if I cannot share it with another person and give myself totally to that other person. I haven't loved romantically for quite a long time. On one hand I long for this feeling, on the other hand I guess it's much better for me not to be in mad love with someone because I know I would never try to start a relationship being addicted. Besides I wouldn't have guts to walk up to a woman who could be that real one, understanding, loving, caring, well, just like me, putting all of you into the relationship.

I believe that whatever there is waiting for me on the other side is definitely better than this life here.

...

A continuation...

There is a myth, even believed to be true by most Jews, that the Ottoman Empire loved Jews. Yes, the Sultan did hold out a welcome mat when the Spanish Ethnically Cleansed us BUT he did so only because of the huge amount of money he would be able to extort from us. In general you hear people say that Jews fared much better in the Islamic World than they did amongst European Christendom. The only real difference is that in the first half of the 20th Century the Germans mechanised it and applied an efficient system to its mistreatment of Jews.

I often hear people say, why talk about the Jews and the Holocaust. The Nazis targetted many demographics, what is so unique about the Jewish experience in the Holocaust? Quite simply, only Jews were targetted for extinction. Roma and Sinti, so called "Gypsies," were only considered on a localised basis. Germany did not want them within its territory. There was no long term strategy aimed at erasing them from humankind. The Jews were targetted on a global scale. Had the Nazis triumphed in the Soviet Union and in North Africa they aimed to link up in Iran and at that point there were plans in place to repeat the pattern established in Europe.

I have often heard people- including Jews- say that Anti Semitism is a European invention. That is a tricky statement. In the absolutely literal sense, yes, it is true because the phrase "Anti Semitic" was invented by a German Eugenicist. However, when one makes that statement the natural inference is that Europeans invented the hatred of Jews simply based upon their being Jewish (as opposed to hating them for economic reasons, etc.). THAT is absolutely untrue.

European Anti Semitism began with the Greeks but they based that hatred over philosophical and spiritual reasons as did all Europeans up until the 19th Century. Islam enshrined the hatred of Jews on the rationale that all Jews are inherently evil by virtue of their very existence. Race-based Anti Semitism was "invented" by Arabs at the birth of Islam. Muhammad based his hatred on political and economic rationales but sold it to fellow Arabs on a rationale revolving around race.

I'm especially astonished at the ignoramuses who claim that prior to Zionism Jews and Arabs were at peace. When someone makes this statement I inevitably reply, "Right, the Safed Pofrom of 1834 was what? A love in? Safed 1838? Tiberias 1838? Damascus 1834? Hebron 1956? Jerusalem 1834? 1920? 1929? Even in the supposed "Golden Age of Islam" in al Andalus (Spain), Muslim Arabs and Berbers had pogroms and enforced conversions.

In day to day life our existence was hellish. The leader of each Jewish Community was given a hard slap in his face on a ceremonial basis each year in front of cheering throngs of Muslims. Islam dictates that Jews are classified as Dhimmi. Dhimmitude was a sub-human existence. Even in the "welcoming" Ottoman Empire one could not escape Dhimmitude. We were forbidden from wearing any colour other than black or grey. We had to wear blue shoes. We could not carry weapons in a society where this equalled emasculation. We could not strike a Muslim even if he was raping your wife or stealing your child. Each year we were forced to pay a special, very steep tax simply for being Jews. We could not build new houses or worship or even refurbish existing ones. We could not ride horses inside any municipality. We could not own property within site of Islamic houses of worship. We could not charge a non-Muslim with a crime unless we had 2 Muslim witnesses, and Islam specifically forbids Muslims testifying against other Muslims in the benefit of non-Muslims. Even small children regularly spat in our faces. If a Muslim charged us with disrespect, a crime, we had to pay him a steep fine because all schools of Islamic Jurisprudence hold that in cases where a Jew and a Muslim a Muslim are involved, the Muslim need only swear that he was being truthful. Obviously we were charged a lot of times for a lot of money. Failure to pay got us 40 lashes, even our children.

Both my parents' families lived under the Ottomans. Mum, as noted, in Trans- D'niester, a breakaway republic from Moldova today, on the border of the Ukraine (historically part of Bessarabia), and dad in Hebron, in the so called "West Bank," which until 1948 had simply been called Judaea. My father's family has 3 strands. The first, the main part, are Judaeans who never went into exile. The second group are like my mum's, refugees from the Spanish Ethnic Cleansing of fourteen ninety-two who migrated into Ottoman lands. The 3rd strand are from an area near Minsk in the former Soviet Union. They migrated to Hebron in 1843 and ended up marrying into our clan in eighteen sixty-three. That group from Minsk were Lubavitcher Chassidim but because Chassidim (Hassidic Jews) worship in the Sephardic (Jews from Iberia beforefourteen ninety-two) manner they were able to marry into my clan.

Just like Tristam Shandy I can take 6 entries just to offer background on a single sentence. At least now, if you haven't been lulled to sleep or else scared off, you will understand more about our protagonist, the "Hassidic Pablo Escobar" and his background as a Satmar Chassid.

The documentary I mentioned in my previous entry followed Leibowitz around as he re-entered the very small and perhaps claustrophobic world of the Satmar in London's Stamford Hill neighbourhood. Just as in any Jewish neighbourhood neighbours paid far too much attention to Leibowitz's comings and goings and he began chafing at it. Soon he had quit his job as a cook's assistant in a Satmar-owned nursing home and began working as a Stand Over Man (in American-speak, he began working as an Enforcer, hired muscle). A friend owned rental properties and when a non-Jewish tenant became delinquent Leibowitz would open the property's door and unleash a couple of hungry Alsatians. Needless to say this method was highly effective at evicting non-compliant tenants.

On camera Leibowitz admitted that he was a mule, bragging that his Chassidic garb nearly made him invulnerable to counter-narcotics measures in the world's airports. Of course in the late-1990s things changed in a huge way. Israel's very large Organised Crime "families" cornered the international MDMA (Ecstasy) Market. Smuggling large amounts of tablets they began recruiting Chassidic men to serve as mules. When law enforcement agencies got hip to yhis subterfuge word spread quickly and men like Leibowitz began falling like flies. In the end the suggestion given by the documentary was that Leibowitz would once again be jumping into the game, as his ankle monitoring device was removed. This was a far different impression than the one offered by the National Geograpic episode.

After watching that episode of "Banged Up Abroad" (the American version being "Locked Up Abroad") I watched a documentary by the seriously-retarded David Ickes. It never ceases to amaze me how otherwise intelligent people can warp their minds to the nth degree. Here is a bloke who played professional football ("soccer") and parlezed that into a sportscasting gig that evidently made him moderately well known in his native Great Britain. The walls suddenly came crashing down one day when he revealed that he had learned a great and awesome secret; the world is controlled by a tiny group of inter-dimensional shapeshifting reptillian beings. Hey, nothing strange there, right?

As time went on Ickes became more and more demented and combined the New World Order Conspiracy bullshit with his "shapeshifting reptillian" fantasy. Of course we Jews were bound to show up in such a loony tune worldview. Alas, Zionists ARE the most powerful of the shapeshifting reptillians. We Zionists control the media, the entertainment industry, most Western governments, create wars to line our pockets and discuss such things at Bilderberg. One might have imagined that shapeshifters who are able to traverse different dimensions MIGHT have no need for meeting in Switzerland but it makes no difference to such imbeciles.

Aaaah, the world as I know it.

Hello world first blog on bluelight. Couldn't sleep last night so I stayed up reading a numerous people whom I have a lot of respect fors blog's. It was a really interesting experience. It can be easy to forget that the people on this website are just like you and me, PEOPLE. Sometimes when flying through posts they are just an account name to me, but reading their blogs allowed me to see more of who they really are as a person. I'll throw out a little background info on myself, my name is Jason I'm 22 years old and I'm from Massachusetts going to a good university in Boston studying Biochemistry. I am also a heroin addict who has been struggling with it for almost two years now.

My addiction has really put the strains on my family, I had to take medical leave from my school due to my addiction having the upperhand. This was about a year ago. I couldn't go to class without being high and even if I was getting high I never did the work I just hung out with my junkie friends playing FIFA all night. At the time I was still together with my ex girlfriend who is the love of my life. Fast forward about 9 months and I'm living at home going to rehab trying to get clean so I can get back into school. My parents think I'm clean but I'm also on the last straw with them, if I relapse again I'm out of the house living at a shelter. Eventually I go camping for a weekend with my dad and girlfriend we bring plenty of dope for the 5 day trip. By day 3 we finish off our dope, and I wake up day 4 freaking out thinking there is no way in hell I can go these next two days without dope. I brainstorm some bullshit to tell my Dad as to why I have to bring my girlfriend home early so she can do some work or whatever. We get back to her house and she steals a check from her mom for an account that has tons of money and it's also an account that she hasn't looked at in years. We grab six half gram bags and head on back to her house to drop her off. Obviously before we get there we make a pit stop so we can shoot some of the dope. We were still very new to shooting at this point and so we both got extremely jammed. We arrive at her house where I'm looking to just drop her off and get back to the campground with my Dad. Her mom insists that I come in for a little bit to have a meal since I hadn't seen her parents in a while. I should've stressed that I had to get going, but I agreed to go inside. Her parents sit us down immediately and start tearing us a new one. Of course our junkie luck would run out that day and she decided to look at her account. She even told us that it was the first time that she'd check it in over a year and half but she had a gut feeling to look at it today. God damn that gut of hers. The jig was up, they knew we were using again and obviously they were going to inform my parents. The 2 hour drive back to my Dad was the worst drive in the history of mankind. All I could think about was that I'm about to spend two days with my dad camping while he knows that I'm using again, and as soon as we get back from the trip I'm going to be driven to a homeless shelter to start the next chapter of my life.

The camping trip after that was a blur as luckily I had a gram of dope left and pretty much kept myself in a dope coma for the rest of the trip. Upon arriving back home after the trip my mom and sister are there and you could honestly feel the tension as you walked through my house. God it was such a terrible experience. My family and I sat down and decided what the next step would be. I begged with them to let me go to detox and come back home right after. They weren't having any of that, we had tried it multiple times and a relapse always ensued not long after returning home. My parents were so fed up with me that they decided to pay for detox but that was going to be our last piece of contact for a long time. Once I was in detox I was on my own. I had to find a program my insurance would cover or find a sober house to live and work at. I realized that if I didn't work my ass off in detox I wasn't going to ever get clean, I was never going to get my family back and I most certainly was never going to finish school. These were all very important things to me. I was at my counselors office all day everyday while I was at detox telling him my situation and how desperately I needed to be placed somewhere. After 9 days we got me placed at a very nice rehab on Cape Cod in mass. He told me parents how diligent I had been there and how serious I was taking it and my parents started talking to me again. They were happy I was going to a program and they were going to drive me. Things were turning up.

The rehab really opened my eyes to the disease of addiction. They brought structure back into my life and they helped me open up and receive help for my issues as well as helping others when I could. They ingrained into me that I needed to do a meeting everyday. I graduated 30 days later with 43 days clean including detox, the most clean time I had ever had. My parents let me back into the house and gave me my car and cell phone, giving me the terms that I could have all the freedom I wanted but if I choose to abuse those freedoms and relapse I'm out of the house. Things were going really well at home for a while, I was doing at least one meeting a day, two on the weekends. Making tons of friends in the program, contacting and hanging out with sober people. I was also doing an IOP monday through friday. I was clean and loving it, my Dad told me he was so happy to have his son back. I reached 90 days clean, something I never though was possible. I got accepted back into Northeastern University from medical leave....my counselor wrote me an amazing recommendation.

Then I chose to gamble it all away. Before the first day of classes I chose to pick up. That was about a week and a half ago. I have been shooting dope constantly since about that time. Not only that but I have been shooting a lot of speedballs as well. I'm really scared of what the hell is happening, this totally blind sided me. I was doing so well, I was so happy, everything had fallen into place, why am I doing this to myself? If I don't nip this run right fucking now then I am going to lose everything I worked so hard for in the past 90 days. I'm shooting speedballs as I write this, a sick and twisted individual saying he is ruining everything while merrily shooting drugs.

So Jason what'll it be a great sober life with hard work and dedication or strung out and miserable? It shouldn't be that hard of a decision. Your in danger of walking straight off the edge off the cliff, but you know all you have to do is stop and about face.

The show Weeds is awesome and I think it is good for America. I know it is NOT the perfect representation of Cannabis culture, but it does give a shine a good ray of light on the Cannabis community towards "Lower" and "Middle" class Americans that wish to believe that they are "Middle" and "Upper" class Americans, via the use of "Intentional Debt" such as a 30 year mortgage, and cars owned by the bank. These people are who make up most of America and they are also the one's who would be watching HBO, or ShoTime or whatever it was on originally (But now it's on Netflix). When they watch this show they see people that they recognize, smoking weed.

And THAT is how Cannabis Culture can effect politics. When people watch TV and see people they can identify with smoking weed.
In the 60's, Abbie Hoffman was on the news all the time. He knew that when kids and (some) people at home saw REGULAR people in the streets, getting attacked by police in riot gear, the people at home wouldn't identify with the armed men. They would identify with the unarmed citizens being attacked, which was a HUGE part of why the REVOLUTION (that's what it was) was as successful as it was (though it did fade out after Woodstock and the invention of the CIA).

But anyways. I saw Weeds a while back, but I missed seasons 1 and 2. And now there is season 7 so I haven't seen that yet. But I have now seen season 1 and 2, just finished season 3 about to watch 4 (I'm watching all the ones I saw again, since it's been like 2 years and I only saw them all once).

A continuation...

National Geographic called him the "Hassidic Pablo Escobar" so I was curious as to see how big of a player he was. I have an uncle on my mum's side, his name is Harry Ackerman. A decade ago Uncle Harry was bagged. The DEA, which loves to exaggerate labeled him the Cali Cartel's point man in America. While my uncle was NOT the head of the Cali Cartel's US pipeline he did move serious weight. Uncle Harry is a Chassid (Hassid), yet here was this bloke on National Geographic that I had never heard of.

Looking into the matter I discovered that Shmuel "Samuel" Leibowitz, of Stamford Hill in London was nothing more than a common mule. He claims he can swallow a kilo of pellets and apparently has mastered his gag reflex. What National Geigraphic never mentioned was that Leibowitz ALSO did time in England in addition to Brasil and Israel. In fact, THAT jailtime was AFTER returning to England after his stint in an Israeli prison. Some may recall that after failing to save the life of a junkie in an Israeli prison Leibowitz claimed to have realised the dangers of drugs and dedicated himself towards saving young people from the dangers and horrors of drugs. Apparently THAT was NOT the case...In any event, it was his English bid that allowed me to learn a lot more about the man.

An assimilated Jew living in England was making a documentary on English Jews and was doing in depth profiles of people who break the stereotype most Westerners have of a studiious person who either ends up as a white collar professional if at all assimilated or else a studious person who ends up wearing centuries old styles of clothing and having several children by the age of 25. Leibowitz DEFINITELY breaks stereotypes.

Drug use is not uncommon amongst Jews. Non Jews might be very suprised that Judaism is very intune to human needs. Sex is one of the highest forms of worship, gambling is practiced by even the youngest children and psychoactive use is a commandment. Judaism however teaches moderation and controls every aspect of one's behavior, from how one eats to how one uses the bathroom. In such a system addiction is not commonplace.

With Jews who lead assimilated- or even partially assimilated lives- it has been my own observation that psychoactive use is ALSO widespread. Without the societal pressures religious Jews face though, addiction is sadly (fairly) common. It would make for some decent peer reviwed studies to examine just why this is. Addiction is believed to result from a combination of genetic predisposition and environmental factors that intersect in an opportunistic scenario. Excepting 1st generation converts and 3 Jewish groups (Ethiopian Jews and 2 of India's 3 Jewish Communities) , every Jew on the planet is related to within the 4th degree. Ergo, there is I assume a strong genetic predisposition to addicton amongst Jews.

Samuel Leibowitz is a Satmar Chassid. Chassidic Judaism emerged in the 18th Century as a response to the prevailing Jewish ethos in Eastern Europe at that time which held that study of Judaism was, next to worship, the most important endeavour any man could ever hope to do. Beginning at age 3 and until he died, Jewish males buried themselves in texts written in ancient languages that none of them spoke naturally. Dedicating their lives to arcane issues whose relevance was rooted a a continent away in the Pre-Christian Era, these Jews neglected fundamental aspects of their faith. Judaism, above all else, is a guide to life and to fufill its potential an adherant needs to enjoy life fully.

The Jews of Eastern Europe were confined to what was called the "Pale of Settlement." Within that Pale, or as we Jews call it, "Galitziya" (Galicia), a day care worker named Yisrael Ben Eliezer began preaching that worship of the Creator should be joyous. One should dance with abandon, sing, pray outdoors, in natural environments and that doing so in one's native language was not only permissable but desired since it allowed one to communicate more clearly. Although the Creator knows one's heart, expression is meritous. Ben Eliezer soon attracted a large following from amongst the very poor and uneducated who felt alienated from the scholars who studied in deep solemnity from dawn until well past dusk.

As with any well established system the orthodoxy went apeshit and labeled the movement, which had adopted the name of an ancient Jewish movement, the Chassidim (Hassidics), meaning the "Joyous Ones," as heritics and blasphemers. Eventually the establishment was forced to accomodate the Chassidim owing to their exponential increase.

Ben Eliezer was given the honourific "Ba'al Shem Tov," or "Master of the Good Name," and although he was greatly revered he eschewed any suggestions that he establish a large retinue and all the trappings of the prevailing orthodoxy. Ben Eliezer remained true to his teachings and taught his disciples and followers that he was no different than they, that anyone could directly approach the Creator. Intercessionism was anathema to his teachings.

After Ben Eliezer died his closest disciples began attracting their own disciples and despite it being diametrically opposed to Ben Eliezer's teachings, these original disciples began forming dynastic courts, heriditary positions as intercessionairies for their very loyal followers. Within 2 generations these dynasties began conforming to the orthodoxy Chassidism had fought so hard to overcome. At that point the great-grandson of Ben Eliezer, a man named Nachman Ben Simcha began preaching against this perversion of his great-grandfather's original message. Unlike all other Chassidic Schools Ben Simacha's never saw its founder as anything more than an insightful man and teacher. His followers thoroughly rejected intercession and instead concentrated on the founding principles of Chassidism.

Ben Simcha died in his 30s of tuberculosis. Known by his followers as Rebbe Nachman, or Nachman of Breslov, ("Rebbe" is a Chassidic term for an esteemed rabbi) until the present us still the only Rebbe of his School, known as "Breslov Chassidishe" (Breslov Hassidism). My mum's family are Breslov Chassidim and of course so was Uncle Harry.

Samuel Leibowitz on the other hand, as I had noted, is a Satmar Chassid. The Satmar get their name from the town of Satu Mare in a part of the Pale that has belonged to both Rumania and Hungary depending on the period. Centered now in the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, here in New York City, they have their own village 2 hours north of the city, Kiryas Joel. Situated within the municipality of Monroe in Orange County. When the last Satmar Rebbe died, Rebbe Teitlebaum, his 2 sons Aharon and Yo'el began battling over succession. Showing how perverted such "fake" Chassidic Schools are, they employed violence along the lines or arson and drive by shootings. In the end one got Kiryas Joel and the other got Williamsburg.

Samuel Leibowitz grew up in the much smaller grouping in London's Stamford Hill section. The documentary filmmaker escorted Leibowitz's brother Yitzchak (Isaac) to pick Leibowitz up after his early release from prison. Fitted with an ankle monitor for 6 months he settled into a flat lent by a fellow Satmar and began working as an assistant cook in a nursing home also owned by a fellow Satmar. Very quickly Leiberman began chafing at the restrictions on him, both by British authorities as well as the Satmar Community.

Though a good portion of my education, up until age 12, was in a Breslov Chaddishe school I was not raised in that world. My mum was Sephardic (Ladino speaking, "Ladino" being 16th Century Castillian Spanish combined with Arabic, Turkish and Hebrew), not Ashkenazi (Yiddish speaking, "Yiddish" being 12th Century German, a smattering of Eastern European languages and Hebrew. Chassidim are Ashkenazim. She was from Trans-D'niester on the border of Bessarabia (now Moldova) and the Ukraine. After the USSR fell apart at the dawn of the 1990s Trans-D'niester became a breakaway enclave like Nagorno-Karbakh inbetween Armenia and Azeribijan. It became a regular killing field that made the Balkans look tame. Today it is nominally independent, only recognised by Russia and a couple of other nations. Known as "Pridnestrovian Moldavian Repulic," or PMR, it is probably the least known European nation, along with being the pooresr and most militarised.

My mum's clan was part of the huge Sephardic Exodus after Spain Ethnically Cleansed the newly unified state of Jews and Muslims in 1492. They originally moved from Granada to Istanbul, as the Ottoman Sultan welcomed the Jewish and Muslim refugees from Spain.

To be continued...

Haven't posted a blog in quite a while... as a matter of fact, up until about a week ago, I hadn't even bothered to log onto BL. Why was that you might ask? Well.. what the fuck do you think? I was strung to the damn gills on heroin for almost 12 months straight. Hah. So what's new with me? Well, I went to detox for 2 weeks.. had a seizure, some other serious unpleasantness, and was basically told by the nurses that I was doing so much heroin for so many days consecutively, that they didn't even have the permission to give me the dosage of meds I would have needed, and that coming in without weening down considerably was a horrible mistake... No lie, one nurse.. (a really cool old time junkie) told me I should actually go back out, get re-strung out on a much smaller habit and then come back and kick that.. this was said on day 8 mind you, right after I had my seizure... 8(

Anyway, I made it.. still alive.. I'm back on suboxone because even though I was in detox 2 weeks, I was still sick when I left.. My plan is to ween off the bupe as fast as I possibly can and try and have some moniker of a normal life.. (Yeah, good luck right?)

On another note, my girl is getting out of jail very soon, was supposed to be today but... we all know how fuckin' slow the courts are.. she'll be home for a week and then will be mandated to a 60 day rehab followed by years of drug court.. but hey, after getting caught with an ounce of H.. she got off easy. Guess most judges don't want to send beautiful 22 year old girls with so much potential upstate for 5 years.. So she'll have one more shot. If she blows it, she's done. We both are, because after 10 years of this shit... I know I wont survive another run. I'm going to die and I've accepted that fact.


Thanks for all of you BL'ers support and advice over the years. Happy Thanksgiving.