Blogs

The extroverted girl didn't fail my assumptions, it seems. She didn't contact me on Saturday. She did on Sunday. I saw a phone number not present in my contact book. I picked it up and it was her calling from some guy's mobile. It was 12:45 PM. She told me she couldn't do anything with that presentation. I asked her if her friend didn't pass her the instructions I left. She answered evasively and asked me if I could help her again. Her "colleague" will take her back to the student hostel and they can pick me up. Well, the hour wasn't really great for me, 5 PM, but I agreed.

So she phones me again a minute before 5 PM and asks me if it's OK for them to pick me up in 30 minutes. I'm getting into the car and I'm seeing her dressed like she was on some kind of date (I don't decry relationships with age difference, I've got preference for older women than me myself so... but something was not right in this situation).

She doesn't remember where she met the guy. I asked about it, if it was a club or a pub but in a kind of manipulative way so she didn't really get why I was asking and I resigned when she was clearly unwilling to tell. She might not understand some things about some men or she might understand them very well, a lot of young Polish girls meet with older men for known reasons. But that seems not to concern me.

What I really wanted to know what she was doing on Saturday, where she was on Friday when I was still in her room, and if she didn't understand a word from what I told her why on Earth she didn't say a word in the first place and if she even hasn't given me a sign of life on Friday, she could have on Saturday, there would be more time to do it all. No f*cking answer you would call explaining everything. I bet she had good fun on Saturday and Sunday, and she suddenly thought of me again on the last day before the day she needed this presentation on.

Anyway, this time her roommate went downstairs to the gym (I wish I had a gym in my basement, nice student hostel) so I was alone with her. I discussed with her some more serious stuff about life. She stated that one can buy everything in Ukraine. I said she's right except for one thing, there's no place on Earth you can buy love, and I said I mean true love. She replied one can buy even love in Ukraine... Again, I told her that's impossible, I said maybe you can buy sex, someone's company etc. but whatever sum you pay, you can't make anyone love you. And it all started from a short talk about "Pole card" or whatever you'd call it. It seems it's a document some Ukrainian office gives you when you show evidence you have some Polish roots, then you can get all the privileges Poles have, i.e. for a Ukrainian girl it means whole Europe is available to her no visas needed. I asked her if she has some Polish roots because it's not the first time I heard these girls talking about it. She replied "no" and said it's done illegal way, if she paid some sum of money, she could get it (for an average Ukrainian family it's a very big amount of money).

It's been a pretty lovely weekend. I had a very early night on Friday and woke up early Saturday morning to the incessant drilling of some workmen out the back of where I live. They'd finished up by 10am by which time I needed to get up anyway... I don't quite see why they couldn't have just started later...

Yesterday was mostly about having a walk down town, bought a lovely red dress for £4, splashed out on some agent provocateur perfume, bought some fresh fruit, then came home to refuel and get my body ready for tattooing.

Well, I now know that my tattoo artist's name is Lee. I think yesterday was the best tattoo experience I've ever had, and I've got 13 other tattoos. Massive, comfy chair to sit in. Lee was on skin for nearly three hours... and the tattoo is only half finished. It was so much bigger when he put the stencil on than I thought it would be. It starts about two inches above my left knee and covers 3/4 of my thigh. I've got quite long thighs, so it's a good size of a tattoo. Lee and I get on so incredibly well that the whole experience, while painful, was incredibly social. We're quite similar people although he's crust punk and I'm... well... Jenny. It's rare that I meet anyone, male or female, that I connect with so easily. He was good at explaining the whole tattoo process as well. Nobody has really done that before, and I feel like I'm learning more about it, which he seems to understand is something that's important to me. It sound really stupid but I like to know the processes for things.

Well back to work tomorrow I guess. I'm really kind of stressing about going back to work because the atmosphere in the office isn't great at the moment. One of the girls filed a formal complaint about one of the women that work in the office. The woman can be a bit aggravating and does stress me out but if she does then I talk it out with her and it's fine. The girl who put in the complaint does the admin work, and I've been covering for her while she's been in hospital. She has cystic fibrosis so I feel really shitty for being mad at her for putting in the complaint. She's really young and I think that the admin job really stresses out but she's been moved difference offices twice because she isn't getting on with people so I don't know what is going on. I love doing the admin job and I feel a bit crap for kind of wanting her job, not that I'd ever try to make her fail, but I thought maybe they could do with two people working admin. Kind of hoped they'd promote me sideways as I'm pretty crappy on the phones and they always take me off to do emails etc when possible because that's what I'm good at. I'm really not looking forward tomorrow as I just feel like shit's going to hit the fan and it's a worry because I just want to go in and do my job with no bitching and office politics. We do a hard job (customer service for what have to be the angriest people in Britain) and it makes things a hell of a lot easier when people aren't bitching and backstabbing. I suppose I just have to go in, be confident and try to get on with things.

Ach. I guess there's a chance that I'm still tired and emotional after my tattoo. There's not really anyone I can talk to about how I'm feeling about it all. I was down at Shona's to see her and Sally, had a really good chat as Rory was out so we got proper good banter. Not that I dislike Rory, it's just different when he's there. I'm pretty sure Shona would have put it all in perspective for me but because she's got a newborn baby I don't think it is fair to unload my worries onto her. I think she likes the break from Mummyhood, cos I don't have kids, so she can talk about stuff with me that doesn't involve things like breastfeeding methods!! Probably best I have a shower, sort my hair out, get my clean clothes out of the washer and up to dry for tomorrow and just go in all guns blazing with my best devil may care attitude. It's just not as easy as I'd like. I'm constantly worried that I'm going to get in trouble for something although I've not really done anything wrong.

This stressful head is what gets me into trouble. What starts off as an average worry mounts into some crazy massive issue and I get all paranoid and upset which ends up with something shitty actually happening because I can't keep my mouth shut. I promised I wouldn't do this any more. I need to try and stay strong and if anything shit happens tomorrow I will just have to deal with it. It's almost like I feel like I should be punished even if I haven't done anything wrong... it's not a conscious thing... and it's so very hard to turn it round. The person who has the biggest problem with me is me... most other people don't really have an issue... it's my own attitude that fucks things up and when I go into a downward spiral other people pick up on it and that's when problems arise. I've come so far. I used to be scared to go into shops alone and now I'm able to live a relatively normal life and I'm incredibly independent...

But I'm still crueller to myself than I've ever been to anyone else, and that needs to stop.

This is from a Western in progress entitled ‘The Place Of Dead Rows’
My protagonist Kim Carson finds himself in deadly conflict with Mr. Hart, the press tycoon and old man Bickford of beef and oil baron.

And Bickford has a special price on Kim’s head, because Kim killed old man Bickford’s son in a gunfight.

[audience laughs]

Yeah, a real western.

Click to expand...

For three days Kim camped on the Macy tops sweeping the valley with his binoculars.

A cloud of dust headed south told him they figured him to ride south for Mexico. It headed north instead, into a land of sandstone formations. And everywhere caves pocked into the red rock like bubbles in boiling oatmeal.

Some of the caves have been lived in at one time or another. Rusty tin cans, pottery shards, cartridge cases. Kim found an arrow head six inches long, chipped from obsidian. And a smaller arrow head, of rose colored flint.

Dust was flowing and blue shadows gathered in the Sangria Christo Mountains to the east.
Sangria Christo, Blood of Christ, rivers of blood, mountains of blood! Does Christ never get tired of bleeding?!

It is raining in the Homines Mountains

"It is raining Anita Huffington." Last words of General Grant, spoken to his nurse. ‘Circuits in his brain flickering out like lightening in grey clouds’."

Pottery shards, arrowheads, rusting fish hooks.
You can see there was a cabin here once.
A hypodermic syringe glints in the sun.
He holds the rose flint arrow head in his hand.
And he fondles the obsidian arrowhead, so fragile, do they break every time they were used like bee stings, he wonders.

Somebody made this arrowhead it had a creator long ago. This arrowhead is the only proof of his existence. So living things can also be seen as artifacts designed for a purpose. So perhaps the human artefact had a creator? Perhaps the stranded space traveler needed the human vessel to continue his voyage and he made it for that purpose?

He died before he could use it, he found another escape route.

This artifact shaped to fill a forgotten need. Now has no more meaning or purpose than this arrow head without the arrow and the bow, the arm and the eye.

Or perhaps the human artifact was the creators last card played in an old game many light years ago.

Chill in empty space, Kim gathers wood for a fire.
The stars are coming out. There's the Big Dipper.
His fathers grey face on a pillow. His father points to Betelgeuse in the night sky over St. Louis.

Helpless pieces in the game he plays on this checker board of nights and days. So fragile, shivers and gathers wood.


Slave gods in the firmament. He remembers his fathers’ last words,
‘Stay outta churches son’
‘All I got a key to is the shit house’
‘And swear to me you will never wear a policeman’s badge’


Hither and thither and rows and checks and slaves, and one by one and back in the closet lay rusty tin cans, pottery shards, cartridge cases, arrow heads, a hypodermic syringe glints in the sun.

I can not stop eating for the life of me. 3 Hours after a huge meal (giant chicken burrito), I made another one even bigger. Why? Because i'm bored. I think when you're bored and have nobodyt o talk to, eating is an easy pleasure. It's hard. I have no energy or motivation because of bi polar and depression (i take small dosage of seroquel) so i barely leave my room. I find it hard to do anything because i feel it's not worth it, or i'd have to do it every day for months to see a result (changing my diet). The only thing i want is energy and motivation to do something. Drugs used to do it for me, but i'm 6 weeks clean so i haven't even had alcohol. I live with my mom and she goes away on the weekends so i sit at home, alone. I have no friends in my hometown because i;ve been a crazy person for years and nobody likes to be around me.

Right now, i'm putting all my hope in a powder mix i bought on the internet that is supposed to give you TONS of energy. People use it to work out, which is what i hope to do. Working out is a chore, after 10 minutes i get a headache and trying to get a good workout in gets harder. Personally, i feel so gross after i eat so much, but i can't stop myself. I think, "I've got nothing right now so i've got nothing to lose. Man, life sucks sober or high.

Hello, Mr. Guillotine
My name is not important.
still searching for my reprieve
of course these thoughts are distorted.

the somber days are still effevescent
why? oh, i know..
sweet screamin' dreams are so lucid
please continue to grow.

i want to posses empathy
instead i obtain apathy
everyone is here to help me
why dont i want me
why wont i recieve

elude attitude, allude something new.

So for Christmas I got an ipad2. I have to admit that when I opened it up, and stared down at its sleek white frame, I couldn't help but think, "oh shit, I'm going to sell this."

My fears are not without basis. Whenever the money's run out, I've resorted of course to selling my belongings to obtain money for drugs, or just drugs period. I've parted with three iPods over the last four 1/2 years, and once in the middle of a triazolam induced black out, I sold my MacBook for a fourty dollar bag of coke. The worst part about that deal, was that I ended up losing the coke after doing one shot.

I'll be the first to admit, that I am sort of a junky yuppie. I grew up in park slope, a nice neighboorhood in Brooklyn, the son of an artist and a photographer. I've been accustomed to fine coffee and baked goods all my life, amd even in my addiction, i loved to cook fancy stir frys and drink bustello coffe made in a french press. I would often pick up an orange cranberry scone on my way to the dope spot, and meet up with my dealer with an espresso in one hand, and however much money I had stolen that day in the other.

Yep, I'm a real asshole.

But on the other hand, I've always despised the neighboorhood I grew up in, for it's family safe, artist friendly environment. I hate saying this knowing that someone reading this has probably grown up in a shit hood, and wood give there left ball to live in a nice brownstone near prospect park, but I must speak the truth here. Though I am an artist and consider myself to be reasonably liberal, the fucking attitude of most of my neighbours is just pompous and insulting.

For instance, last night I went with my mother and father over to my aunts house for a family convention of sorts. They live in this real nice renovated studio apartment building, equipped with security codes and cameras to keep the delinquents out. Anyway, yesterday, after dinner, me and my dad go downstairs and smoke a cigarette. As we flick are butts, we then go back through the front door, following behind a middle age man wearing a scarf and spectacles, who if I'm to be honest, looked like a real bitch.
As we got through the first set of doors behind this strapping fellow, he turns to us, and asks if we live here. My father says "no, we're just visiting family up in 3D(the apartment number)" the middle age man immediately seemed to become concerned and suspicious. He hesitantly said, "well, you really should ring the doorbell in order to come inside." my dad then said, "no it's okay, e got the security code" and then plugged it in to let us through the next set of doors. The man became visibly upset, and brushed past us, scarf flailing behind him, and muttering, "you really ought to ring the buzzer!" I turned to my father and said, "God, what a fucking tool."

For some reason I couldn't let this little confrontation go. I didn't find the guy and get into an argument with him, but for the next half hour I fantasized about all the horrible things I wanted to do to him, to give him something to actually be scared about. I imagined finding his apartment, busting my way through the door, and knocking him in the stomach with an aluminum baseball bat. Then, I imagined it would be fun to duck tape him to a chair, and rummage through his apartment for money and drugs. Once I would finish stealing all his dilaudid and OxyContin (because you know, in my imagination, he would be on a ton of pain meds), I would rip the duck tape off his mouth and piss in his face. As I'd walk out the door I'd just snicker and say, "what a bitch."

Of course none of that would ever happen, as I have to much of a conscience to commit a heinous crime like the one I just described, but sometimes, it just feels good to entertain those dark, violent thoughts. Calling the guy an "asshole", would probably never happen, I'm just too much of a pacifist. Sometimes I think I may lack testosterone.

Anyway, on a final not for today, my street cred has just gone down the toilet. My mom scheduled me for a ten ocklock appointment at a hair salon this morning, and as I stood awkwardly outside what looked from the exterior to be a beauty salon, my heroin dealer walks by with one of his boys. He says to me, "Zach, what the hell are you doing out here." I just looked at him and said, "Havnt you heard Toni? I'm metrosexual now." He looked at me oddly and walked away

I stuggle with GP's n their methods and opinions on opiate addiction. I cant speak for the rest of the world as I dont have the experience but here in the UK, if you've got a smack habit n u seek help you will get the offer of 4 different meds on the NHS. Methadone, Phyceptone, Subutex or Suboxone. If you cant get on with those then u r fucked. I dont get it. Why cant I get Morphine on script. It fits me like a glove. No sweats n constipation, no eating a pure sugar diet, no restless legs n no desire to use on top. They come in tablet form so no injecting snorting or smoking is needed. It cant be the money. I work full time and pay my national insurance contributions.I pay for my prescriptions too.Im a drug manufacturers dream, totally financially self suficient and a long term repeat prescription user. Its like they will give you anything you want exept for the one thing you need. Can anyone out there shed a bit more light on this matter or give me some advise because I am hanging on by my finger tips here. I dont want to use heroin any more but I can feel this situation slipping through my fingers. I have been off smack and on prescription drugs for nearly 2 years now n I just want to feel comfortable.

my new year's resolution for 2011 was to be happier. i'm happy to say that i actually kept up with my resolution. i took the steps i needed to and for once took care of myself rather than worrying about what other people thought of me. i still have a lot of work to do on myself, but i'm more mentally and emotionally healthy now than i think i've ever been. it feels really good to say that.

i also managed to go to school full time and work full time this past semester, which is something i wouldn't have thought was possible for me a couple years ago. i'm not going to do both full time again soon, but it's nice to know that i can do it. i'm proud of myself. i also give maaaaaad props to those people that manage to work full time, go to school full time, and raise children. work and school took so much out of me, i can't imagine how it would be to throw a child into that mix as well.

for 2012 my main goal is to get physically healthy, while maintaining my mental and emotional well being. i think i can do it, especially since i have a lighter load this coming semester. my apartment complex has a pool and fitness center. while it's too cold to go swimming now, i have no excuse not to work out at least a few times a week. eating healthy is going to be the most difficult for me. i do love healthy food, but there's a special place in my heart for greasy, fatty, fried yummies.

i believe i can do it though. i just have to take it day by day and not be too hard on myself.

I've gotten my use down at last so that when i get high i don't get the withdrawal when i don't use for a day. So now i can use recreationally. I managed to get my hands on a couple of instant release oxy and found the high soooo much better than DHC. It just felt cleaner with less side effects.

The bad thing is, is that my mind is in a pretty fucked up state, it always has been but opiates make me dangerous. Because when i'm not using a small, self-destructive part of me just wants to start shooting up and escape reality in the fucked upness of needles and drugs. I've never shot a thing in my life but a part of me wants to. I think a part of me wants to die with a needle in my arm, it would be easy and i would be so fucked out of my face that i wouldn't feel a thing. Because of this feeling i know there is no way i will stop using opiates in some way or the feeling would overcome me and i might do something bad. It's in my mind everyday.

I asked for help once because i couldn't make my head shut up. My doctor sent me to a therapist who would only see me for 8 weeks behavioural therapy, i knew after that first visit it wouldn't work. You don't fix 23 years in 8 weeks, it just would NEVER happen. I didn't go back.

So here i am, i wonder if i will end up that way...

To me, the best things in life are -

Sex
Drugs
Music
Masturbation (may come under sex but i'm currently getting more of one than the other)

3 out of 4 ain't bad. These things make me i would say happy isn't the word but i can't think of one better - elated maybe. I could never live without them.

Been doing opiates for years you name it. Heroin being my favorite. But lately its been methadone and morphine because its just to hard to get what I want around here. My point is I do not remember my skin crawling as bad as it is right now. Some one told me to try a little meth and that worked for about 20 mins. Sucks cant even lay down without having to do a few laps around my house every 15 min. Sucks any ideas

Actually, it did the opposite of that and kept me nodding -- shit, I should have a cigarette and another bowl. MAYBE a little more Opana and possibly another Klonopin... Oh yeah and I drank some whiskey with freshly squeeze grapefruit juice... In honor of St. Patrick's day... not... so, yeah. I could also see me not doing any more drugs and still feeling awesome. Which is good too, less expensive and shit.

Wow, I'm gonna totally bang my girlfriend now.

Toodles.

I found some pills that match the markings of a percocet 30 milligram. But I have never done a perk that burns when snorted. How can I tell if they are real or fake. From what I've read online... the real 30mg a215s are lighter blue with speckles in it. The printreal is verygirl deep an distinct with smoothspeckles almost glossy surface. And the fake ones are a darker blue , bigger in size, print is shallow an sloppy on most, burn when snorted an taste like chaulk. Also the fake don't have the blue speckles. Am I on the right track? Here is a pic plz comment. The pill in the pic looks just like a 215 30mg perk but burns when snorted... ne1 ever heard of a real perk burning when snorted? Ps will post pics when I figure out how to do it

Mental illness can be measured somatically.
Hows your back holding up your head?
Hows your eyes?
Your all sat on your arse fucking around.
Get a fucking life, before a computer virus or changed name takes hold.
Your all fucking cretins.
This is not a place to discuss the Darkside.
This is a noobs game, and you just lost.

Well, first off, I didn't go back to London, I'm not in Australia or New Zealand. I stayed in Poland and started studying again. Like previously wrote, I joined the first year during the second semester so I've got to pass exams from the first semester. It doesn't look that good...

My IELTS Academic certificate solved English classes for the whole first year. But there's still Mathematical Analysis, Physics, Ethics, and Basic Programming (well, generally it was programming in Pascal... the hell I know about programming?! and now I have to program in C language so it's pretty hard when you can't program in an even easier programming language like Pascal). I had Mathematical Analysis (functions, derivatives, various integrals, differential equations...) and Physics at the Faculty of Chemistry at my previous university. But to be honest I didn't like either so I forgot a lot.

Anyway, there's quite a lot of Ukrainians studying with me. My current university recruits in Ukraine and it seems a good deal for both sides. It's quite funny how young all these girls and guys are. Most of them aren't even of age... I don't know if I ever mentioned it somewhere but Ukrainian girls are very pretty. Anyway, I can't socialize fast (especially now when I'm tapering off clonazepam and staying at the lowest dose of methadone possible), so I might look shy at the beginning (for smart ones) or conceited (for the others...). Now that some time passed, I don't have that much trouble talking to people. I used to learn Ukrainian so it seems I get along with the Ukrainians (although they speak some mixture of Ukrainian and Russian so when they talk in a group, they speak fast and I don't understand them that good).

To the point... I was asked for help by one girl, later it was revealed her friend also needs help with the same thing. One girl seems more extroverted and the other more calm, placid, a bit shy... The extroverted one looked and smiled at me coquettishly (for the reasons she knows). Yesterday I visited them in the student hostel they live. The kind of help they needed involved work on their notebooks. Two other girls I met a few days back at a club visited them during my presence (normal thing in student hostels, they seem to be good friends). At some point the extroverted one left the room and went playing cards somewhere and I stayed with the calm one, she studied for the test.

I thought that something was cooking. She left with no explanation (I'm not an idiot, I can show someone how to do something but I don't do anyone's work, I know when someone attempts to manipulate me) and I see several reasons. (1) That's her temperament (e.g. likes clubbing, has no problem talking to people), maybe lacks some kind of... tact? (2) It might be she did it on purpose leaving me with her friend (rather not, the girl who stayed in the room didn't seem tense, just not much saying - well, she was studying or pretending to study - she was shy at most). (3) She might have wanted to simply use me.

Knowing I'm in the middle of nowhere (it used to be a large industrial area, good plants, well known in Europe making quality products), I decided to show the girl who stayed with me how to do everything she needed help with and told her to pass the information to her room mate. She wanted to walk me to the bus stop but it was past 10 PM so I didn't want her to come back alone.

Time will tell. But I really thought they like me. And I don't mean that I was hoping one of them had fallen for me or something (two other Ukrainians visited them in a room while I was there). I simply counted on that I could make friends (I mean real friends, not just acquaintances). I shall see. They're all 17 (will turn 18 this year), that's because of the different education system in Ukraine). I'm 22, that's quite a big difference. 3 years is nothing when one person is 39 and the other is 36 but in this situation it makes a difference but they definitely seem more mature than most Polish girls are at 17 which is really interesting...


That's one thing. The other one is you can feel spring in the air. I should feel better etc. Instead I've got so angry earlier today and I longed for a shot of morphine or something strong like I never did during a quite long episode just on methadone... I guess it's my BPD problem screwing with me. I was depressed during the whole winter, now I'm like switching from depressive to manic and manic to depressive a few times a day. The phases are shorter and shorter and it drives me crazy because it's harder to control myself.

Won't buy me health.


Well I've been out of it for a while, but I'm back, and what better way to celebrate than with a crazed journey on a new psychedelic:

10:25PM. 3/16/12. Ingested approximately 5-8 mg 2c-p. Other drugs in the system include 200ug of buprenorphine for nerves, 8 hours previous was a spiritual breakthrough culminated by using approx 100mg of methoxetamine over a 3 hour period. The afterglow was emotionally profound and led to the courage driven action I've just made. The little buggers in the tract now, absorption will be noted as the experience progresses. I've quite a bit of experience with the 2c family but this one is new territory. One small step.

10:47 Light stomach rumblings a bit of a placebo affect. Trying to navigate this stupid relay chat to be gawked at in a very baroque and vulnerable manner. There's flagellates spouting bullshit out my window. Something about the cold, it's 55 degrees here. Beautiful. These people are out of their goddamn minds.

10:55 Nothing really happening. I'm getting impatient, which seems antonymous to the whole point of the goddamned experiment. I need ATTENTION.
Be still and know, let the ancient mescaline exoskeleton of the shit creep through your bowels and fly up like a prankster faerie flying up one of those hammer con's out of early twentieth century carnival gatherings. Step right up, up... up. Tempted to use the methoxetamine but I refrain.
Listening to Burroughs. "Junk takes everything and gives nothing except junk sickness." The same can be said for any sustainable commodity the body requires. Air, fire, temperature, sunlight. We're born encapsulated into a habit we can't possibly sustain, and every year it gets harder, tolerance builds, supplies diminish, greedy fat aristocrats drooling cigar slime filth grabbing every extra particle. No booze tonight, scant on klonopin as I'm down to .5 a day. Far below my normal 3mg, but I always blow my stash that first week and leave just enough to remain comfortable for a period of 3 weeks it seems. Horrible habit I've never been able to remedy, but perhaps it's kept my tolerance more manageable than the steady medicine imbiber who takes his milligram morning, noon, and night, on the dot. Better to give the nervous system a few variables, keep the cocksucker on his toes.

11:05 Terrence on the dial now, talking about nematodey or some such silliness. I love his use of language, even though he's off his rocker. I'd be lying if I said I had anything on him, however. I'm feeling talkative but barely off baseline. It's buildling to a calm crescendo and no body or mental discomfort noted. Think I'll smoke a cigarette for lack of something more interesting to hold my attention at the moment. I'll probably cut this down a bit as it's more of a vague rant stream of consciousness kind of gig, but maybe I'll leave it. I prefer that style of prose and if I can leave it intact and unedited, all the better. Should time stop moving? Interesting question posed. Where it came from I'm unaware, but it can be taken in many fashions and would exhaust me at this time to fully extrapolate and cut it apart with my fun analytical scalpel. Wears a black suit and a a black stetson.

"Tio Mate is an old assasin with twelve dear on his gun."

PM11:35 That's it. I can't wait any longer. 10mg MXE lets hope this gets the show on the road. No looking back now. Feeling subtle effects almost instantaneously. Hard to define, check back in after I ponder the absurdity of Steven Colbert interviewing "Kermit" the frog speaking on the southern primaries. In summation: Frogs don't know Jack about Politics.

AM12:09 This is slow as fuck coming up. I know I dosed low and let it be known that I didn't use a scale, merely divided 50mg of powder 8 ways. I figure about 5-10mg. Out of all the fucking mg scales I've owned in my life I should really just bite the bullet and buy a good one so I'll actually hang on to the thing. Roughly 15mg more mxe insufflated we'll see if this precipitates some visuals. Seems to help very subtle nature in these small doses. I'm completely content without anxiety fear or worry, not antsy, merely dreamily and patiently waiting for something profound to come into view.

12:31 Why are these compounds so slow on the comeup? I could forsee quite a bit of calamady if these materials made there way into uneducated hands. Like the old "STP" scare; giant doses of DOM passed off as acid. Some rogue chemical asshole found Shulgins's publication and saw a quick dollar, with plenty of freaks wondering "when the fuck is this shit going to end, its been 3 fucking days." etc.

1:14 Mother of twisted jesus, this thing is finally taking shape. It seems I am at an impasse. 1:21 I'm at a loss for words. Tick. Tock. What is that noise? Is that metronome apart of me? Does the goddamnded computer have a heart? Silence. Who's heart is that? It CERTAINLY isn't MINE.

I was reading about how there are more prescription drug overdoses in the USA than illegal drug overdoses, and decided to try and create something powerful and evocative to represent this grim statistic. If anyone has any ideas for a better title, since this is really about prescription drugs and not OTC drugs, let me know.

I live in a half way house. Sometimes, I wake up and think, "Where am I? What have I done? How did I end up here?" and remember that I am a heroin addict. I look at myself in the mirror every day and say "you are a heroin addict," because I need to remind myself of the pain.

Many memories from childhood are vivid; some are not. I have ONE extremely vivid memory of my mother and I, sitting on a couch, watching a television show about a heroin addict and how awful her life was because of her addicton. I was just nine at the time; I had some idea of what heroin was..I knew it ruined lives. My mother turned over to me and said, "honey, promise me you'll never touch heroin." I hugged my mother and said, "Mommy, I promise." Every time I used, for two years straight, I thought of my broken promise. I am just now starting to rid myself of the guilt that has accumulated for two years.

I am 90 days clean as of last night. I haven't feel this way in years. I am happy.

The news is going to report the death of Margaret Thatcher soon. I don't know why that thought popped into my head... but it did...

For the health of an egg...please click...otherwise I am screwed

yeah its a dragons egg...why do I have it....I don't know...I just want it to hatch then my job is done. Thanks for caring and clicking[url=http://dragcave.net/view/nNtDZ][/URL]

I have been out of town for work and bring an oz of ice thinking it would last. Lil did I know it was gonna rain all week!!! well I just rolled my last bo and cleaned my pipe now I am out I'm n a pretty shady motel a lot of hookers running around and ppl r moving ow . I know they r going fast like me but to scared or paranoid to as dnt want I accidental run in with the L E!!!! idk wat the fuck I
gonna do it is raining now so mayb I should call my guy and if he will drive 6 hours here this ahoy sucks!!!!

The only thing i can come up with is i want to believe. I have so many issues that i struggle with that it just ends up burning me emotionally to the point where i believe i can't help myself. When i'm holding the very sharp cutco pearing knife, watching the dark red blood coming out of my skin, it actually calms me. It's like i'm glad i'm punishing myself. A sick smile and a numb feeling as my heart beat sinks. I pray to god for help, because i'm afraid i'll never be able to help myself. I don't really want to die, but i hate being in so much pain.

People always say, get out there and do this or that. Thing is, i have bi polar and post traumatic stress disorder, and although i do try sometimes, i usually cant satisfy my needs right away. I'm too impatient. I feel like people want to see me suffer. I want to see me suffer, because it's what i'm used to. I've been abused and bullied my whole life. The sick people at my school even pretended to be my friends, as i overheard the terrible things they would say about me. I have been wronged by my father, being beaten and ignored. My mother doesn't know how to reach me, and who could blame her, i'm really seriously fucked up.

I sit alone in my dark room with my computer glowing over me. With a pearing knife, watching blood pour down my arm. What do i do then? I pray. I pray for help. I pray for someone or something to save me. Jesus or buddah, to appear to me with a smile and say, it's gonna be ok buddy. I just wish somehow, someway, i knew i could be better. Unfortunetely i'm used to thinking the opposite. As a 24 year old male, who's good looking, and never been comfortable to have a gf for more than a month, i'm just so lonely. My only friends are on xbox live and here, if i can call them friends even. I'm 5 weeks clean, i should be getting better. I'm just so disappointed in myself. I feel, honestly feel, the god i don't believe in is the only one who can save me.

So why do i pray to a god who i hate?

I spent the last of my money on oxycodone...

Then a couple days later I get a call saying the oxymorphone is in and it's the same price as the oxycodone was.

And I'm like SHIT FUCK ASS BITCH SHIT FUCKER because... well, that shit always happens to me.

My tax refund is supposed to be coming pretty soon... Ugh, I hope it comes ASAP! I can go on a benderrrrrrrrr. Yay. :D

Anyway I've been thinking of telling my therapist about my drug problem but I don't know if I want to. It's all just stupid really. I don't give a shit. I would love some suboxone to fall back onto when I can't use but everyone says it's just as expensive, if not more so...

I don't really care about anything right now because I took 7mg of klonopin in addition to like 37.5mg oxycodone so... there's that... time to roll a spliff. :D

how long does it take to grow magic mushrooms start to finsh useing bulk i just started yesterday?

hhh