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In the dining room, at one end is a fireplace, whose alcove now holds the hifi with a vintage turntable on the top. Its brown cork platter usually has something old on it. Today it was a mono copy of Ella Fitzgerald classics on Verve from '61. It included two beautiful duets from work she did with Duke Ellington.
Either side of the chimney breast are two columns of book shelves holding about a third of my library. These are the ones I like to dip into occasionally, or to remind me of what I've read. I smoke too much weed to really remember everything, so if I am thinking about a topic, I'll have to reach for some tome or other to put myself straight. They are arranged according to topic area mostly but some of the big pictorial books have to go on the big shelf at the bottom. I've read all of them there, except for maybe the newest aquisitions which I am cueing up.
I tend to keep my more obscure books high up in order not to alarm curious visitors. I have a big set of books about psychedelics. That category does not really do them justice. They range from rational scientific analysis to the mystical and all shades in between. This is my problem. I have read up on both sides
of the arguments but find myself edging towards the sceptical with regard to the mystical end. I am convinced of the utility of psychedelic experience at some psycho-spiritual level. But, I tend not to subscribe gurus or want to subsume the things I have observed to the ideas of another.
I have one Terrence McKenna book on the shelf, (The Archaic Revival), a kind of sampler. I've heard a few of his lectures and like his eloquence on matters that for most us are hard to integrate and describe. However I do not subscribe to his particular personal rationale of them. His self transforming machine elves did not seem apparent when I first got a proper hit of DMT. However I later began to see how I could overlay my own experience on top of the features McKenna describes. In my heart I felt that this was more about the plasticity of the experiential data, than the absolute truth of his interpretation. To be honest, his inter-stellar internet type scenarios are to my mind manifestations of his hopes and aspirations for the future of mankind. There I do not blame him. I frequently entertain simillar thought experiments myself when under the influence.
If a friend asked for a good book to start finding out about psychelics, I'd send them to Daniel Pinchbeck's 'Breaking Open The Head'. Here someone of a more sceptical standoint than myself finds his concept of reality and spirituality broadened through a variety of materials. It's exciting vivid stuff at times, and was the spark of interest for me. I ordered P/Tihkal and began to get stuck in. Reading these (OK the fictionalised biographical sections + the reports then later, other bits) I felt a tinge of jealousy at the fortune of those who had tasted these substances, alongside a kind of sadness at the seeming impossibility of obtaining them. However, the lively online discussion these drugs suggested to me that there was a hope. Soon after, I started googling obscure compound formuli names latching onto a small HK outfit who were expensive, but did send what they were paid for. Tha rest is partially documented in reports online. P/Tihkal are two that I like and reflect kinds of values I concur with.
I recently bought 'Journeys Into the Bright World' by Marcia Moore and her hubsband Howard Alltounian. Soon after beginning I realised that they were both fairly obsessed with astrology and I felt a kind of distance form. As though I expected all their accounts to be informed by a viewpoint to which I don't subscribe. The book was interesting and well written and I finished it. It was all the more poignant given that she eventually appears to have come to grief courtesey of her D.O.C. The book doesn't reflect my psychedelic sensibilities too much. Again, the vista is a manifestation of the authors' personal historical grande set and setting. Different to mine. I'm not trying to be difficult here, because I have to be willing to accept that I may be on the wrong track myself.
For a book that appealed more to my rational perceptions, I recommend 'Psychedelic Information Theory' by James L. Kent. It is as rigorous as any sincere enquirer could be in applying understandable concepts to describe a possible mechanism by which normal consciousnes and the altered states might come about. His theory describes neurological processes and a brain wave based model to account for coherence and decoherence of experience. On some intuitive level this appeared to reflect some of my own leanings. I also liked his unpretentious writing style. The revealing of the hierarchy of concepts and ideas experienced while tripping resembles a kind of leakage from the subconscious. I do find that the deeper I go, the broader the catgories of phenomena and archetypes become, until a kind of unity of being is sensed. This is where I have to retain a slightly mystic element in my own conception. If you've read this far, I humbly encourage you to carry on a little more at least.
I have lots of popular science books and a few more heavier. I can handle a little maths with my leisured enquiry. I had a really good bash at 'A brief history of time' but had to acknowled defeat at about halfway. I love Richard Feynmann, whose little paperback lecture bits have given me great pleasure and moments of really tangible clarity about matters of a nonintuitive nature. I like Dawkins' books, though his hard line seems a little unnecessary to my sentiment. I entertained the possibility that he might be the agent of a benevolent God, sent to steer the good ship Humanity away from the rocks of idiocy. I would love to put that to him sometime. I tend to default to believe in an ingrained God being quite often, brought up as I was C. of E. However, I feel quite at liberty to doubt in the main, a property of the enquiring mind I was given. It might even be a holy duty.
What I'm saying is that I have absolute faith in science to hypothetically explain everything external to consciousness(Given, perhaps an infiniteley long piece of ticker tape in the metaphorical Turing machine and the rest of time). It also will conquer the mystery of the computational magic silently and efficiently taking place between our ears at all times. The point where these potentially explainable phenomenon of reality interface with the little dude in the cockpit looking out - (I, Me, You) - seems to be the exceptional phenomenon. All biological phenomena appear ultimately accounted for by processes of evolution (informed by some of the newer refinements to Darwin's model). However the evolutionary necessity of consciousness is not clearly determined. The thought experiment of Zombies comes to mind. It would be hypothetically possible to imagine a nonconscious brain being able perform all the survival jobs of a conscious brain, but without the 'me' jumping in and declaring "I did that" all the time. I do seem to be mainly conscious most of the time, although that may not appear to be the case to my Mrs sometimes. Cogito Ergo. What reason is there for the privilege it is to hitch a conscious ride on this splendid body thing I find myself looking out from. . . A divine gift? Now I'm getting mystical.
When deeply altered, it occurs to me that my conscious mind space is a three dimensional void into which anything goes. I am not so much directly creating the content, rather it appears to burst into awareness under its own occasionally astounding force, such as with vapourised DMT. There is a vibrance and vital intensity in the experience which hints at the possible immortality of consciousness. I have no material evidence for such speculation. You never get to bring any magical data back, like next weeks pool results or an undiscovered sequence of prime numbers. But the feeling is of having been tantalisingly close to the singularity where everything always is all together as one.
All these speculations say little about the external world. They are manifestations of my own grande set and setting as much as anyone else's. That's roughly where I am with it all.
PTO continued. .
Either side of the chimney breast are two columns of book shelves holding about a third of my library. These are the ones I like to dip into occasionally, or to remind me of what I've read. I smoke too much weed to really remember everything, so if I am thinking about a topic, I'll have to reach for some tome or other to put myself straight. They are arranged according to topic area mostly but some of the big pictorial books have to go on the big shelf at the bottom. I've read all of them there, except for maybe the newest aquisitions which I am cueing up.
I tend to keep my more obscure books high up in order not to alarm curious visitors. I have a big set of books about psychedelics. That category does not really do them justice. They range from rational scientific analysis to the mystical and all shades in between. This is my problem. I have read up on both sides
of the arguments but find myself edging towards the sceptical with regard to the mystical end. I am convinced of the utility of psychedelic experience at some psycho-spiritual level. But, I tend not to subscribe gurus or want to subsume the things I have observed to the ideas of another.
I have one Terrence McKenna book on the shelf, (The Archaic Revival), a kind of sampler. I've heard a few of his lectures and like his eloquence on matters that for most us are hard to integrate and describe. However I do not subscribe to his particular personal rationale of them. His self transforming machine elves did not seem apparent when I first got a proper hit of DMT. However I later began to see how I could overlay my own experience on top of the features McKenna describes. In my heart I felt that this was more about the plasticity of the experiential data, than the absolute truth of his interpretation. To be honest, his inter-stellar internet type scenarios are to my mind manifestations of his hopes and aspirations for the future of mankind. There I do not blame him. I frequently entertain simillar thought experiments myself when under the influence.
If a friend asked for a good book to start finding out about psychelics, I'd send them to Daniel Pinchbeck's 'Breaking Open The Head'. Here someone of a more sceptical standoint than myself finds his concept of reality and spirituality broadened through a variety of materials. It's exciting vivid stuff at times, and was the spark of interest for me. I ordered P/Tihkal and began to get stuck in. Reading these (OK the fictionalised biographical sections + the reports then later, other bits) I felt a tinge of jealousy at the fortune of those who had tasted these substances, alongside a kind of sadness at the seeming impossibility of obtaining them. However, the lively online discussion these drugs suggested to me that there was a hope. Soon after, I started googling obscure compound formuli names latching onto a small HK outfit who were expensive, but did send what they were paid for. Tha rest is partially documented in reports online. P/Tihkal are two that I like and reflect kinds of values I concur with.
I recently bought 'Journeys Into the Bright World' by Marcia Moore and her hubsband Howard Alltounian. Soon after beginning I realised that they were both fairly obsessed with astrology and I felt a kind of distance form. As though I expected all their accounts to be informed by a viewpoint to which I don't subscribe. The book was interesting and well written and I finished it. It was all the more poignant given that she eventually appears to have come to grief courtesey of her D.O.C. The book doesn't reflect my psychedelic sensibilities too much. Again, the vista is a manifestation of the authors' personal historical grande set and setting. Different to mine. I'm not trying to be difficult here, because I have to be willing to accept that I may be on the wrong track myself.
For a book that appealed more to my rational perceptions, I recommend 'Psychedelic Information Theory' by James L. Kent. It is as rigorous as any sincere enquirer could be in applying understandable concepts to describe a possible mechanism by which normal consciousnes and the altered states might come about. His theory describes neurological processes and a brain wave based model to account for coherence and decoherence of experience. On some intuitive level this appeared to reflect some of my own leanings. I also liked his unpretentious writing style. The revealing of the hierarchy of concepts and ideas experienced while tripping resembles a kind of leakage from the subconscious. I do find that the deeper I go, the broader the catgories of phenomena and archetypes become, until a kind of unity of being is sensed. This is where I have to retain a slightly mystic element in my own conception. If you've read this far, I humbly encourage you to carry on a little more at least.
I have lots of popular science books and a few more heavier. I can handle a little maths with my leisured enquiry. I had a really good bash at 'A brief history of time' but had to acknowled defeat at about halfway. I love Richard Feynmann, whose little paperback lecture bits have given me great pleasure and moments of really tangible clarity about matters of a nonintuitive nature. I like Dawkins' books, though his hard line seems a little unnecessary to my sentiment. I entertained the possibility that he might be the agent of a benevolent God, sent to steer the good ship Humanity away from the rocks of idiocy. I would love to put that to him sometime. I tend to default to believe in an ingrained God being quite often, brought up as I was C. of E. However, I feel quite at liberty to doubt in the main, a property of the enquiring mind I was given. It might even be a holy duty.
What I'm saying is that I have absolute faith in science to hypothetically explain everything external to consciousness(Given, perhaps an infiniteley long piece of ticker tape in the metaphorical Turing machine and the rest of time). It also will conquer the mystery of the computational magic silently and efficiently taking place between our ears at all times. The point where these potentially explainable phenomenon of reality interface with the little dude in the cockpit looking out - (I, Me, You) - seems to be the exceptional phenomenon. All biological phenomena appear ultimately accounted for by processes of evolution (informed by some of the newer refinements to Darwin's model). However the evolutionary necessity of consciousness is not clearly determined. The thought experiment of Zombies comes to mind. It would be hypothetically possible to imagine a nonconscious brain being able perform all the survival jobs of a conscious brain, but without the 'me' jumping in and declaring "I did that" all the time. I do seem to be mainly conscious most of the time, although that may not appear to be the case to my Mrs sometimes. Cogito Ergo. What reason is there for the privilege it is to hitch a conscious ride on this splendid body thing I find myself looking out from. . . A divine gift? Now I'm getting mystical.
When deeply altered, it occurs to me that my conscious mind space is a three dimensional void into which anything goes. I am not so much directly creating the content, rather it appears to burst into awareness under its own occasionally astounding force, such as with vapourised DMT. There is a vibrance and vital intensity in the experience which hints at the possible immortality of consciousness. I have no material evidence for such speculation. You never get to bring any magical data back, like next weeks pool results or an undiscovered sequence of prime numbers. But the feeling is of having been tantalisingly close to the singularity where everything always is all together as one.
All these speculations say little about the external world. They are manifestations of my own grande set and setting as much as anyone else's. That's roughly where I am with it all.
PTO continued. .
I have a thing for my shrink. However, I'm realistic and know that it's not happening because of ethics and other obvious reasons. I never let her know nor will I. I decided to stop going and move onto someone different without discussing it with her. I know this is normal and often called transference. However, I don't always think transference is the case. I've been to different therapists and shrinks and haven't felt that for them. So, I don't really think it's about this person listening to me. I have moved on which I think was the best move as I know she was able to tell I had a thing for her. Where my issue is, she helped me alot with things so I'm kind of bummed that I had to move on. Just wanting to get opinions as to whether you think this was a good move to not discuss it with her. I know this kind of thing happens alot. I just think there's no point in having the conversation as I'm just there to get meds. There's no time to work through the issue and it just seems pointless.
I have been doing practically nothing except watching movies for the last four days. Today, besides work, I had to present an integration of some free CRM running on ASP (yeah sure) for the company where I work.
I thought "wtf I'm still young" (26y) and decided to keep awake all the night before work searching for the damn CRM. I did 400mg Modafinil straight, a large bottle of coffee, and some phenylalanine pills (precusors to Dopamine).
I also did like 8mg 2C-E, half taken orally and half taken nasally.
Well, it took me like 4 hours, (plus I wasn't very focused, but I was very awake) but I found two CRM that could work. I jumped to the server and remotely installed the damn web apps. The first one didn't work, probably a database problem, I don't know, I couldn't trace the error, I'm still learning how IIS 7 works. Anyway, my heart was pumping up strong (I mean, I would put my fingers on my neck and felt the pulse, which obviously was fast, but also "strong", very strong), so I decided to take 1ug Clonidine, 75mg Lyrica and 1mg Xanax. It worked like a charm.
The second CRM worked, I would prefered the first one, it was more lite and like super open source, this was kinda open source too, but not really. Anyway, I configured the damn thing. Though the server was missing a lot of maintenance, the CRM for our company with oh my god, OUR LOGO!, was working well (although it was a little slow because, you know, in ASP.NET pages have to be compiled if not precompiled).
Whatever? btw, listening to awesome music all this time helped me a lot.
It was 3 AM. I was done with the work (well, I could continue, but the important part was working).
At 7.20 AM I had to wake up, dress, and go to work. What to do? keep awake or... try to sleep?
There was no way I could sleep on 400mg Modafinil and 8mg 2C-E... right? right?
Well, I know that if I had no sleep at all I would feel like a zombie during the day, so I tried to sleep. This is what I did:
I took 2mg Xanax, 75mg Lyrica, a hot tea, a cookie (only one), closed the windows, and put this little program that makes the sound of like it's raining outside in my iPhone.
Sleeping was impossible. I was still hard, so I take another 2mg Xanax, 1mg of it sub lingually (the taste was horrible, but I have tasted worse things
).
The tension of my whole body was decreasing, but my mind was still strongly focused on things because of the 2C-E (not Modafinil, I could definitely feel it). No matter what I would think about, I would not sleep.
So for the sake of trying, I strongly focused my mind in the sound of the falling rain. I thought I was at this house in the mountains and outside was very cold and raining. Honestly, my mind went with the flow faster than I expected, I began to felt more and more relaxed. I could not believe it, was this the power of the mind toying with the 2C-E?
Well, around 3.30AM was the last time I remember looking up. I wake up super ultra relaxed with my heart rate perfect (not my muscles tough) at 5.50 AM.
I was so happy, I achieved slept like 2 hours or something, take that stims, take that 2C-E! I want to think I fooled the drug, I like to think it works in some way that when I focused in something so relaxing as rain falling it temporarily moved all my worries and thoughts to a temporal folder in my brain.
And why I'm so sure about this? well, the raining program was programmed to automatically work only 1 hour 45 minutes. More or less the time I slept.
Maybe I'm still high on 2C-E, I don't know, I somewhat feel something funny in my head, but... who knows 8)
Well, my work being done, and me with 1.5-2 hours of sleep was enough to make me really happy. I tried to sleep a little more, but my neck was killing me (as I said, my muscles never relaxed completely).
So, I wake up, take 400mg Modafinil more, 1mg Xanax, some phenylalanine pills, a Coffee pill, some Pepsi, and a cookie.
And I began writing this without problem whatsoever.
I'll post this now, though I'll update it later and write how I did during the day.
I'll probably have to take 200mg more Modafinil, and lots of Coffee -including Red Bull and that shit-. And maybe some 2C-E more before going to work to extend the duration of the Modafinil.
Well, I think it was an interesting post, toying with the 2C-E on Modafinil to sleep, and achieving it. The reason, the rain falling and all that mind playing.
Hope the day goes fine...
Peace!
...I'm back! alive and kicking it!
I had an excellent day at work, too good in fact. I completed some tasks I had many troubles since weeks ago. I did take 6mg 2C-E orally in the morning before going to work, and 200mg Modafinil more in the afternoon, which helped me to stay awake but wasn't very intense. But it worked.
Everything was almost perfect. I wish all days would be like these... or not.. anyway, I am scoring some Codeine in an hour so I will enjoy myself as it corresponds with some Xanax and Lyrica
Peace!!
I thought "wtf I'm still young" (26y) and decided to keep awake all the night before work searching for the damn CRM. I did 400mg Modafinil straight, a large bottle of coffee, and some phenylalanine pills (precusors to Dopamine).
I also did like 8mg 2C-E, half taken orally and half taken nasally.
Well, it took me like 4 hours, (plus I wasn't very focused, but I was very awake) but I found two CRM that could work. I jumped to the server and remotely installed the damn web apps. The first one didn't work, probably a database problem, I don't know, I couldn't trace the error, I'm still learning how IIS 7 works. Anyway, my heart was pumping up strong (I mean, I would put my fingers on my neck and felt the pulse, which obviously was fast, but also "strong", very strong), so I decided to take 1ug Clonidine, 75mg Lyrica and 1mg Xanax. It worked like a charm.
The second CRM worked, I would prefered the first one, it was more lite and like super open source, this was kinda open source too, but not really. Anyway, I configured the damn thing. Though the server was missing a lot of maintenance, the CRM for our company with oh my god, OUR LOGO!, was working well (although it was a little slow because, you know, in ASP.NET pages have to be compiled if not precompiled).
Whatever? btw, listening to awesome music all this time helped me a lot.
It was 3 AM. I was done with the work (well, I could continue, but the important part was working).
At 7.20 AM I had to wake up, dress, and go to work. What to do? keep awake or... try to sleep?
There was no way I could sleep on 400mg Modafinil and 8mg 2C-E... right? right?
Well, I know that if I had no sleep at all I would feel like a zombie during the day, so I tried to sleep. This is what I did:
I took 2mg Xanax, 75mg Lyrica, a hot tea, a cookie (only one), closed the windows, and put this little program that makes the sound of like it's raining outside in my iPhone.
Sleeping was impossible. I was still hard, so I take another 2mg Xanax, 1mg of it sub lingually (the taste was horrible, but I have tasted worse things
). The tension of my whole body was decreasing, but my mind was still strongly focused on things because of the 2C-E (not Modafinil, I could definitely feel it). No matter what I would think about, I would not sleep.
So for the sake of trying, I strongly focused my mind in the sound of the falling rain. I thought I was at this house in the mountains and outside was very cold and raining. Honestly, my mind went with the flow faster than I expected, I began to felt more and more relaxed. I could not believe it, was this the power of the mind toying with the 2C-E?
Well, around 3.30AM was the last time I remember looking up. I wake up super ultra relaxed with my heart rate perfect (not my muscles tough) at 5.50 AM.
I was so happy, I achieved slept like 2 hours or something, take that stims, take that 2C-E! I want to think I fooled the drug, I like to think it works in some way that when I focused in something so relaxing as rain falling it temporarily moved all my worries and thoughts to a temporal folder in my brain.
And why I'm so sure about this? well, the raining program was programmed to automatically work only 1 hour 45 minutes. More or less the time I slept.
Maybe I'm still high on 2C-E, I don't know, I somewhat feel something funny in my head, but... who knows 8)
Well, my work being done, and me with 1.5-2 hours of sleep was enough to make me really happy. I tried to sleep a little more, but my neck was killing me (as I said, my muscles never relaxed completely).
So, I wake up, take 400mg Modafinil more, 1mg Xanax, some phenylalanine pills, a Coffee pill, some Pepsi, and a cookie.
And I began writing this without problem whatsoever.
I'll post this now, though I'll update it later and write how I did during the day.
I'll probably have to take 200mg more Modafinil, and lots of Coffee -including Red Bull and that shit-. And maybe some 2C-E more before going to work to extend the duration of the Modafinil.
Well, I think it was an interesting post, toying with the 2C-E on Modafinil to sleep, and achieving it. The reason, the rain falling and all that mind playing.
Hope the day goes fine...
Peace!
...I'm back! alive and kicking it!
I had an excellent day at work, too good in fact. I completed some tasks I had many troubles since weeks ago. I did take 6mg 2C-E orally in the morning before going to work, and 200mg Modafinil more in the afternoon, which helped me to stay awake but wasn't very intense. But it worked.
Everything was almost perfect. I wish all days would be like these... or not.. anyway, I am scoring some Codeine in an hour so I will enjoy myself as it corresponds with some Xanax and Lyrica
Peace!!
Lately I've been burning bridges once again. Why? Because I care about drugs more than anything else at this point. All I want to do is get high or drunk until one day its all over and inside I keep hoping for that day to be soon... Even though I know I should say fuck it all and keep on living the right way because what I am doing now is not living at all. I'm slowly killing myself each day and all I want to know is why don't I care? My mother confronted my friend and I today about our drinking and use of drugs... Well that ended up with me yelling at her and causing her to cry, she even left the house. It was pretty bad and the sad thing is I know I'm in the wrong but I won't ever admit that to her. I should be happy she cares but instead I'm a selfish bitch who treats her own mother like shit when she doesn't deserve to be treated that way.
Also my best friend who I consider my sister has been distant these past days. I even texted her and shit but she never replied or answered my calls. I finally called her today and she told me how much she is worried about me... How she thought I was done with doing stupid shit. Also how she even thought about not being friends with me and my other friend (the one who I tend to do a lot of dumb shit with/one my mom confronted). She told me she wants me to stop because she doesn't want me to die. She told me she doesn't understand why I didn't think twice about my actions especially after I got a gun pulled out on me. She also told me she knows that I'm only going to stop when I want to and that I'm going to keep on doing what I want and that she will accept that but doesn't know if she can be my friend anymore if I do.
So of course I lied. I told her I want to and will stop with stupid shit. I also lied and said that I wasn't being serious about how I think I'm going to die soon.... The truth though is that I don't want to stop. I'm not going to stop, at least not now but she doesn't need to know that. So I told her that I will see her tomorrow and we can talk about everything. She was happy with what I said but I feel terrible because I'm lying to my best friend and she doesn't even know. I consider her my sister and we've been through so much shit but I still decide to lie to her. I still choose to possibly compromise this amazing friendship just because I want to get high. She even told me I know where this is going to end if I continue on with using and that all my friends will be gone and I'm not even going to have family there for me... And of course I know she's right but that's still not going to stop me. I told her if I lose her then I know I'm definitely going to be dead by 21... Honestly my friends are the reason why I'm still here but each day I get closer and closer to losing them which makes me wonder why I'm still using drugs then?
I get closer and closer to losing everything I have and all the people I love. I'm losing my dreams and ambitions. I'm losing the meaning of why I'm here. Instead I use and watch time pass by before my eyes. Time that I can never get back. Moments and memories I will never have because I'm out getting high or sleeping away the days and nights. I'm not sure what I expect to come out of this because clearly nothing will. So I hope I can fix up this mess I created.. Get out of this hole I dug but I feel like there's no point in trying right now. I feel as if it will be pointless because I don't necessarily want to get clean just yet. Something is still telling me to continue doing what I'm doing and then I hear another thing saying stop now. So until I only hear that voice telling me to stop I'm not going to bother because I can force myself to stop using or go to na meetings (like a friend suggested/well was telling me to go to today and I lied and said I would but I didn't lol) but I'm not going to because I know I will just fall back into the same old habits eventually. I know that because the voice saying continue on, fuck life, is going to still be there. I know they say it will always be there but right now its louder than normal and I'm still not strong enough to say no to it.
And until I'm ready to do that I'll keep doing what I'm doing. I can't lie to myself and make myself believe I can just stop now because I can't; I don't want to. Hopefully I can keep myself alive and not burn anymore bridges before I can attempt to get my life in order. Just hopefully....but even then if I do then it will probably just make leaving even more easier.
Also my best friend who I consider my sister has been distant these past days. I even texted her and shit but she never replied or answered my calls. I finally called her today and she told me how much she is worried about me... How she thought I was done with doing stupid shit. Also how she even thought about not being friends with me and my other friend (the one who I tend to do a lot of dumb shit with/one my mom confronted). She told me she wants me to stop because she doesn't want me to die. She told me she doesn't understand why I didn't think twice about my actions especially after I got a gun pulled out on me. She also told me she knows that I'm only going to stop when I want to and that I'm going to keep on doing what I want and that she will accept that but doesn't know if she can be my friend anymore if I do.
So of course I lied. I told her I want to and will stop with stupid shit. I also lied and said that I wasn't being serious about how I think I'm going to die soon.... The truth though is that I don't want to stop. I'm not going to stop, at least not now but she doesn't need to know that. So I told her that I will see her tomorrow and we can talk about everything. She was happy with what I said but I feel terrible because I'm lying to my best friend and she doesn't even know. I consider her my sister and we've been through so much shit but I still decide to lie to her. I still choose to possibly compromise this amazing friendship just because I want to get high. She even told me I know where this is going to end if I continue on with using and that all my friends will be gone and I'm not even going to have family there for me... And of course I know she's right but that's still not going to stop me. I told her if I lose her then I know I'm definitely going to be dead by 21... Honestly my friends are the reason why I'm still here but each day I get closer and closer to losing them which makes me wonder why I'm still using drugs then?
I get closer and closer to losing everything I have and all the people I love. I'm losing my dreams and ambitions. I'm losing the meaning of why I'm here. Instead I use and watch time pass by before my eyes. Time that I can never get back. Moments and memories I will never have because I'm out getting high or sleeping away the days and nights. I'm not sure what I expect to come out of this because clearly nothing will. So I hope I can fix up this mess I created.. Get out of this hole I dug but I feel like there's no point in trying right now. I feel as if it will be pointless because I don't necessarily want to get clean just yet. Something is still telling me to continue doing what I'm doing and then I hear another thing saying stop now. So until I only hear that voice telling me to stop I'm not going to bother because I can force myself to stop using or go to na meetings (like a friend suggested/well was telling me to go to today and I lied and said I would but I didn't lol) but I'm not going to because I know I will just fall back into the same old habits eventually. I know that because the voice saying continue on, fuck life, is going to still be there. I know they say it will always be there but right now its louder than normal and I'm still not strong enough to say no to it.
And until I'm ready to do that I'll keep doing what I'm doing. I can't lie to myself and make myself believe I can just stop now because I can't; I don't want to. Hopefully I can keep myself alive and not burn anymore bridges before I can attempt to get my life in order. Just hopefully....but even then if I do then it will probably just make leaving even more easier.
do you ever feel like time is moving but nothing else is? it's almost like i'm being filmed at 24 fps, while my surroundings are 1,000 fps. (camera reference) I get medication tomorrow for bi polar, which means my life is finally going to be perfect! NOT. well, at least i'll feel sort of better. But how does one cure laziness? I keep thinking of getting off the couch, but i have this paralyzing feeling in my chest that stops me. It's hard to explain unless you know what depression is. Sleeping til 2 pm and insomnia keeping you up until 4 am. Xbox live is my only form of entertainment besides learning about conspiracy theories.
I keep thinking there's gotta be a way to motivate my mind, convince it life outside of this 2,400 square foot box is worth seeing. That it's better than netflix, porn and ableton live. This girl i went to school with is my neighbor and she comes home around 6:30 every night. She texts me every saturday night seeing if i'm doing anything but usually it's just "sitting around. how about you?" I'm no expert on the female sex, but that is gonna be a giant turn off. So i think, what could i text her that would make her want to come over? She's so nice, it's not like i'd have to write "i'm having a heartattack, help!", but maybe something i am working on would catch her attention. My conspiracy novel is underway, and it's one hope. I just can't get bored of it and stop, like EVERY thing i've started on. I tend to give up easy, a dreamy trait. She is something i can work with as a friend, as i have burnt every bridge in this town worth walking on.
Friday i am taking a trip to Hutchinson with my mother to go see a herbal specialist, or whatever you call them. Maybe to get some herbal energy pills, different than the ones i used to take i'm sure (adderal, cocaine). Still clean from EVERY drug though, going on two weeks. I'm entertaining the thought of narcotics annonymous, although i do not want to make any friends from the groups. My aunt who has her phd in psychology wants to see me every sunday for an hour or two. This is a weird thing though because i've never opened up to my family like my shrinks.
Random thought, who wouldn't wanna date a girl like kaylee from Serenity. perfect personality.
anyways, no more thoughts. Just another day of failed ambition, hoping to turn it around tomorrow. I still have my five goals, and so far number 1 and 2 are attainable soon. will keep writing when i have something i feel like writing.
I keep thinking there's gotta be a way to motivate my mind, convince it life outside of this 2,400 square foot box is worth seeing. That it's better than netflix, porn and ableton live. This girl i went to school with is my neighbor and she comes home around 6:30 every night. She texts me every saturday night seeing if i'm doing anything but usually it's just "sitting around. how about you?" I'm no expert on the female sex, but that is gonna be a giant turn off. So i think, what could i text her that would make her want to come over? She's so nice, it's not like i'd have to write "i'm having a heartattack, help!", but maybe something i am working on would catch her attention. My conspiracy novel is underway, and it's one hope. I just can't get bored of it and stop, like EVERY thing i've started on. I tend to give up easy, a dreamy trait. She is something i can work with as a friend, as i have burnt every bridge in this town worth walking on.
Friday i am taking a trip to Hutchinson with my mother to go see a herbal specialist, or whatever you call them. Maybe to get some herbal energy pills, different than the ones i used to take i'm sure (adderal, cocaine). Still clean from EVERY drug though, going on two weeks. I'm entertaining the thought of narcotics annonymous, although i do not want to make any friends from the groups. My aunt who has her phd in psychology wants to see me every sunday for an hour or two. This is a weird thing though because i've never opened up to my family like my shrinks.
Random thought, who wouldn't wanna date a girl like kaylee from Serenity. perfect personality.
anyways, no more thoughts. Just another day of failed ambition, hoping to turn it around tomorrow. I still have my five goals, and so far number 1 and 2 are attainable soon. will keep writing when i have something i feel like writing.
So I've been off all opiates now for... get this... 7 days. One week. It's been the longest week of my life. I'm having a monetary dry spell. Only 9 more days till I can get a script for 5/325 Percocets. Not the best fucking thing on the planet but I will fucking take it like whoa. I'm feeling so isolated because I don't have a fucking phone at the moment. I couldn't afford to pay the bill because I spent all my money on oxycodone. Although... do I really want to start down this path again?
I know exactly what happens. I'll have the pills for a week or 10 days, if I'm lucky. Feel good and normal and get shit done. Walk my dogs, clean my house, wash my hair. Then I'll get some money and buy as many 30mg Roxi IRs as I can "afford" (which usually ends up being way more than I can afford). I'll snort them, stay up all night writing, watch television like it was going out of style, be able to cook for my family and just nod on the couch (which needs replacing, but who can afford that?) "with" them but not really being there.
But most importantly, I will be "happy" again.
Then, somehow, all my money will be gone. It'll be 2 weeks into March and then I'll have to while away the sickness. I'll feel better after about 3 days, almost normal after a week. Then I'll be stuck in this fantastic depression/anxiety/boredom fest that won't go away no matter what. We'll struggle to pay for food and electricity and cable and internet and phones and credit cards and student loans.
I'll spend way too much time online and smoke way too much pot and eat way too much food. I'll write pages and pages of nonsense anywhere I can. I'll apply for jobs but not get any call backs. If I do get a call back, I'll get all my hopes up and bomb the interview. I'll contemplate getting a Certificate in some sort of field I'm somewhat interested in, either Pharmacy Tech or Vet Tech or some sort of fucking peripherally "medical" Tech.
My girlfriend will be happy that I'm sober and trying to get my shit together but also angry that I'm not willing to do anything involving leaving the house unless I absolutely have to. Our intimacy is really lacking at the moment and it's all my fault. It's like I can't have sex without being at least drunk. Nowadays alcohol doesn't really agree with my stomach unless I am on opioids. Pot just makes me lazy and I'm developing, believe or not, a pretty fucking decent tolerance. Oh, and of course there is the Klonopin. It's the best and worst thing that's happened to me and I am too afraid to get off of it.
I love my girlfriend. It's not her. She thinks it's because I'm not attracted to her. But it's been the same with everyone I've been with. I'm fairly asexual when sober. I don't have the drive. Drugs, yes. Sex, not so much. I think the lack of sex and being broke all the time is taking its toll on us. To be completely frank.
I know she'll stick by me. She's never given me an ultimatum or anything. She was actually born addicted to heroin. Her mom was a prostitute and her dad died in jail. She has a half-brother somewhere but the adoption records are sealed. Her mom died when she was 16, 3 years before my mom died. She's had an alcohol problem but so did I, when we were in high school. We were drinking buddies way before we got into a relationship. Apparently she had a thing for me since we met, but I was playing the straight thing at the time. She was one of the few people who I stayed in touch with after graduating. By the time we got together, she was the first woman I'd ever been with. It was weird but it felt right. Now, 5 years later, it still feels right. I'd marry her in a heartbeat now that it's legal here if I was in a better spot in my life. I'd have children with her, somehow. Probably adoption. There are plenty of children who need a home and caring parents, why bring another soul into this world?
That's one thing I contemplate a lot. Although parents bring life into the world, they also damn the child to death, essentially. Because everything that lives has to die. I feel like if I ever had a biological child, I'd be sentencing it to pain, misery and eventually death. Not while it was a baby, of course, but through those shitty awkward years. And with my genes, it's likely the child would have some sort of disposition for addiction or mental illness. I'd be one of those neurotic moms that never lets their child go anywhere alone. I'd dress my child in knee pads, elbow pads and a helmet and kevlar just to walk to school. I'd never let them out of the house without me. It would just not be good. I know I say that now, without any experience with children and I'll hopefully change my mind before I get too old to have children. But I have to get myself together first. And God knows how long that will take. I will stick with babies of the canine variety for the foreseeable future.
Then, I'll see my psychiatrist and lament how the pills aren't working anymore (I'm supposed to be on Wellbutrin and Cymbalta in addition to the Klonopin but we know how that goes) and he'll just tell me to keep trying in therapy. I'll see my therapist and either open up and cry like a baby or sit there staring at the clock while making small-talk about whatever. Maybe I'm making progress? It's not like they tell you. They just kick you out and schedule the next appointment.
I've got a tissue stuck up my nose because there seems to be a leak. My brother got sick, then I got sick, then my girlfriend got sick. So we're a happy family, indeed.
I know exactly what happens. I'll have the pills for a week or 10 days, if I'm lucky. Feel good and normal and get shit done. Walk my dogs, clean my house, wash my hair. Then I'll get some money and buy as many 30mg Roxi IRs as I can "afford" (which usually ends up being way more than I can afford). I'll snort them, stay up all night writing, watch television like it was going out of style, be able to cook for my family and just nod on the couch (which needs replacing, but who can afford that?) "with" them but not really being there.
But most importantly, I will be "happy" again.
Then, somehow, all my money will be gone. It'll be 2 weeks into March and then I'll have to while away the sickness. I'll feel better after about 3 days, almost normal after a week. Then I'll be stuck in this fantastic depression/anxiety/boredom fest that won't go away no matter what. We'll struggle to pay for food and electricity and cable and internet and phones and credit cards and student loans.
I'll spend way too much time online and smoke way too much pot and eat way too much food. I'll write pages and pages of nonsense anywhere I can. I'll apply for jobs but not get any call backs. If I do get a call back, I'll get all my hopes up and bomb the interview. I'll contemplate getting a Certificate in some sort of field I'm somewhat interested in, either Pharmacy Tech or Vet Tech or some sort of fucking peripherally "medical" Tech.
My girlfriend will be happy that I'm sober and trying to get my shit together but also angry that I'm not willing to do anything involving leaving the house unless I absolutely have to. Our intimacy is really lacking at the moment and it's all my fault. It's like I can't have sex without being at least drunk. Nowadays alcohol doesn't really agree with my stomach unless I am on opioids. Pot just makes me lazy and I'm developing, believe or not, a pretty fucking decent tolerance. Oh, and of course there is the Klonopin. It's the best and worst thing that's happened to me and I am too afraid to get off of it.
I love my girlfriend. It's not her. She thinks it's because I'm not attracted to her. But it's been the same with everyone I've been with. I'm fairly asexual when sober. I don't have the drive. Drugs, yes. Sex, not so much. I think the lack of sex and being broke all the time is taking its toll on us. To be completely frank.
I know she'll stick by me. She's never given me an ultimatum or anything. She was actually born addicted to heroin. Her mom was a prostitute and her dad died in jail. She has a half-brother somewhere but the adoption records are sealed. Her mom died when she was 16, 3 years before my mom died. She's had an alcohol problem but so did I, when we were in high school. We were drinking buddies way before we got into a relationship. Apparently she had a thing for me since we met, but I was playing the straight thing at the time. She was one of the few people who I stayed in touch with after graduating. By the time we got together, she was the first woman I'd ever been with. It was weird but it felt right. Now, 5 years later, it still feels right. I'd marry her in a heartbeat now that it's legal here if I was in a better spot in my life. I'd have children with her, somehow. Probably adoption. There are plenty of children who need a home and caring parents, why bring another soul into this world?
That's one thing I contemplate a lot. Although parents bring life into the world, they also damn the child to death, essentially. Because everything that lives has to die. I feel like if I ever had a biological child, I'd be sentencing it to pain, misery and eventually death. Not while it was a baby, of course, but through those shitty awkward years. And with my genes, it's likely the child would have some sort of disposition for addiction or mental illness. I'd be one of those neurotic moms that never lets their child go anywhere alone. I'd dress my child in knee pads, elbow pads and a helmet and kevlar just to walk to school. I'd never let them out of the house without me. It would just not be good. I know I say that now, without any experience with children and I'll hopefully change my mind before I get too old to have children. But I have to get myself together first. And God knows how long that will take. I will stick with babies of the canine variety for the foreseeable future.
Then, I'll see my psychiatrist and lament how the pills aren't working anymore (I'm supposed to be on Wellbutrin and Cymbalta in addition to the Klonopin but we know how that goes) and he'll just tell me to keep trying in therapy. I'll see my therapist and either open up and cry like a baby or sit there staring at the clock while making small-talk about whatever. Maybe I'm making progress? It's not like they tell you. They just kick you out and schedule the next appointment.
I've got a tissue stuck up my nose because there seems to be a leak. My brother got sick, then I got sick, then my girlfriend got sick. So we're a happy family, indeed.
I was 4.5 yrs through college, exactly 1 year away from a degree in something i have no passion for, radio/tv/film. My minor is english, also something i have no passion for. As a matter of fact, the only passion i have is for drugs right now. This is why i gotta stop, and try to fix my mind. I am bi-polar, ADHD and the survival of a suicide attempt 4 years ago. Since then, I have only dove downhill into drugs and wasting my loans and money. I am 6 days clean of marijuana, my DOC, and attempting to get Bi polar meds and get back to "normal". Sorry, not get back to, finally know what it's like to be normal.
Bi polar is a rollercoaster. Takes me high above everything yet brings me to hell. I was so sick of the way things were going, I quit my good job at buffalo wild wings and dropped all my classes. It's time to go home and get rid of this sick part of me. A sick part that wears my pain on my sleeve. I enjoy what most fear, and it's not my true personality.
In truth, i am kind of a pussy. I cry because I cannot take emotions. I sulk and pout because I do not have the confidence and future that attracts women. I know i am good looking. I would have to be to get Brooke, my ex, to even consider dating my fucked up ass. She looked past the drugs and failures and saw a man who loved her.
I am forgetting her because i can't afford to think about the things i've mucked up in the past.
This friday I will return home. 350 miles. I will move in with my mom and try to find a full time job in the middle of nowhere. Typical challenge that I will pass and think nothing of. I am just too hard on myself. I know it's not me, it's my disease. Some things in life just can't be fixed without help, and i'm about to get all the help I can ask for. I will be documenting my recovery from marijuana and getting my life back together.
My goals are as followed.
1. Get treatment for bi polar and see improvements in my happiness, motivation and ability to live my life.
2. To find a good enough job that I can start paying off almost 55 K in student loans I am in debt for.
3. To fix my drug problem and stay off ALL drugs, not just marijuana.
4. To make real friends, instead of drug using buddies who only care if you have bud or not.
5. To find a woman that I can love. Something i've only had once.
to quote bud light, here we go!
Bi polar is a rollercoaster. Takes me high above everything yet brings me to hell. I was so sick of the way things were going, I quit my good job at buffalo wild wings and dropped all my classes. It's time to go home and get rid of this sick part of me. A sick part that wears my pain on my sleeve. I enjoy what most fear, and it's not my true personality.
In truth, i am kind of a pussy. I cry because I cannot take emotions. I sulk and pout because I do not have the confidence and future that attracts women. I know i am good looking. I would have to be to get Brooke, my ex, to even consider dating my fucked up ass. She looked past the drugs and failures and saw a man who loved her.
I am forgetting her because i can't afford to think about the things i've mucked up in the past.
This friday I will return home. 350 miles. I will move in with my mom and try to find a full time job in the middle of nowhere. Typical challenge that I will pass and think nothing of. I am just too hard on myself. I know it's not me, it's my disease. Some things in life just can't be fixed without help, and i'm about to get all the help I can ask for. I will be documenting my recovery from marijuana and getting my life back together.
My goals are as followed.
1. Get treatment for bi polar and see improvements in my happiness, motivation and ability to live my life.
2. To find a good enough job that I can start paying off almost 55 K in student loans I am in debt for.
3. To fix my drug problem and stay off ALL drugs, not just marijuana.
4. To make real friends, instead of drug using buddies who only care if you have bud or not.
5. To find a woman that I can love. Something i've only had once.
to quote bud light, here we go!
Got through day 2 of my withdrawals, this is in my attempt to get properly through a detox so I can use recreationally without suffering this every time.
The last time I had sex was last summer. After that I had a shit load of drama kick off so I didn't think about it. Then I discovered opiates. So safe to say I've barely had a sex drive for quite a while, which is new to me and sober I crave it daily, several times preferably.
Today my sex drive started to return, and the frustration begins as, as much as I would love to I don't have anyone in my life that I want to screw that I can call and invite over. Masturbation actually managed to make me worse as I haven't done that in weeks either from what was once an everyday habit.
Kinda makes me wish I could just get high.
The last time I had sex was last summer. After that I had a shit load of drama kick off so I didn't think about it. Then I discovered opiates. So safe to say I've barely had a sex drive for quite a while, which is new to me and sober I crave it daily, several times preferably.
Today my sex drive started to return, and the frustration begins as, as much as I would love to I don't have anyone in my life that I want to screw that I can call and invite over. Masturbation actually managed to make me worse as I haven't done that in weeks either from what was once an everyday habit.
Kinda makes me wish I could just get high.
Between the constant tossing and turning and kicking and screaming at the bed and wall, I did not sleep for two seconds last night, even under the influence of ridiculous doses of every lesser sedative in the house... It's funny, cause once I get out of bed, it's at least bearable. Opiate withdrawal is the EXACT opposite of how the high feels. Instead of pain relief, relaxation and euphoria, there's pain, anxiety and madness.
Ya know? I could just keep going like this for just a fewwww more days ... and be done with it.
However ... I'm supposed to be getting a $2,000 insurance settlement check in the mail today. I know what will happen. I'll spend $1,500 of it on roxies, they'll be gone within two weeks at most, and then I'll be in a REAL world of hurt... I know what I'm going through now isn't even a fifth of how bad it really COULD be... So why do I keep doing this? My dad tells me that I'm trying to fill some kind of void in my life, and that the only thing that can truly fill that void is Jesus Christ...
I know this may just sound like junkie denial, (and in all honesty it probably is,) but I am not trying to fill some kind of void with opiates... I just like getting high! It feels better than not being high does! "People think it's all about misery, and desperation, and death, and all that shite, which is not to be ignored... But, what they forget ... is the pleasure of it... Otherwise, we wouldn't do it!"
... I don't know. I really am tired of this cycle. Three years now, I've had this demon on my shoulder... And I'm to the point where it's just exhausting me... I've tried Suboxone, I've tried cold turkey, I've tried tapering, kratom, loperamide, I don't know what else to do...
Fuck it, man... I chose this road I've gone down. I knew damn well what I was getting into back then. I did a lot of research and educated myself on opiates before I ever even touched one. They fascinated me. I KNEW what I was getting into... I didn't care. I didn't care then, and I really don't care now to be honest... I'm just ... tired of it...
Ya know? I could just keep going like this for just a fewwww more days ... and be done with it.
However ... I'm supposed to be getting a $2,000 insurance settlement check in the mail today. I know what will happen. I'll spend $1,500 of it on roxies, they'll be gone within two weeks at most, and then I'll be in a REAL world of hurt... I know what I'm going through now isn't even a fifth of how bad it really COULD be... So why do I keep doing this? My dad tells me that I'm trying to fill some kind of void in my life, and that the only thing that can truly fill that void is Jesus Christ...
I know this may just sound like junkie denial, (and in all honesty it probably is,) but I am not trying to fill some kind of void with opiates... I just like getting high! It feels better than not being high does! "People think it's all about misery, and desperation, and death, and all that shite, which is not to be ignored... But, what they forget ... is the pleasure of it... Otherwise, we wouldn't do it!"
... I don't know. I really am tired of this cycle. Three years now, I've had this demon on my shoulder... And I'm to the point where it's just exhausting me... I've tried Suboxone, I've tried cold turkey, I've tried tapering, kratom, loperamide, I don't know what else to do...
Fuck it, man... I chose this road I've gone down. I knew damn well what I was getting into back then. I did a lot of research and educated myself on opiates before I ever even touched one. They fascinated me. I KNEW what I was getting into... I didn't care. I didn't care then, and I really don't care now to be honest... I'm just ... tired of it...
I hate waiting on these unreliable motherfuckers... At this moment, I seem to just be living for that moment when my phone finally fucking rings with someone in possession of roxies on the other end of the line... I don't understand why these people have so much trouble filling a simple damn prescription, do all these pharmacies really not keep the things in stock?
I'm not really sick yet ... but just knowing that it's coming is making what little aches and irritability I do have that much worse... This $400 is burning a hole in my pocket. My god, I even searched a bill for leftover bits of powder from the last time I crushed one up... Yeah right, like I'd leave anything behind. Yes, I can hear myself. Yes, I think it's pathetic too...
Please phone, fucking ring already... Please, just give me a few more days of escape...
I'm not really sick yet ... but just knowing that it's coming is making what little aches and irritability I do have that much worse... This $400 is burning a hole in my pocket. My god, I even searched a bill for leftover bits of powder from the last time I crushed one up... Yeah right, like I'd leave anything behind. Yes, I can hear myself. Yes, I think it's pathetic too...
Please phone, fucking ring already... Please, just give me a few more days of escape...
Woke up this morning and I had myself some coffee and meth. I met up with my mom; whom I hadn't seen in awhile and we headed down to the beach to have lunch. I wasn't feeling hungry(meth does that), but I forced myself to eat two tacos and a shishkebob. The entire time I was with mom I was non-stop chatting, but a normal paced, not high on meth chatty; I kept it cool.haha! I told her the reason I was so talkative was because I missed my mother and was excited to be spending to the day with her to catch up on how we've been doing in the world(which is all true, I did miss talking to my mom). She smiled, hugged me and said I missed you too son. We went back to her house and spent the rest of the day looking through old family pictures and talking, I even talked to her husband a little(and I thought he didn't like me,I think he's alright with me now). The crystal really helped me get things out that I wanted to talk to my mom about. I'd explain it like; all my thoughts were easier to form into sentences then into projections from my voice-box . Normally I stutter and trip on my words a little. I also had the most exciting, happy, comforting feeling all day; when I'm on crystal I pick up on people's energy/mood a little better and I feel people get my positive or negative vibes quicker. I could tell my mom was just as happy as I was to hangout. I stayed over and had dinner till night I drove home.
Now present time I am writing in. I stick on my fentanyl patch and let it override the meth so I can sleep and dream. I feel it, no euphoria, but an unfathomable contentness. I smoked a few bongloads and it seems to have quickened the fentanyl's effects. I am very satisfied on how today turned out. I feel like today's extremely positive energy will give me the motivation I need to complete the days ahead.
Cheers to the positive aspects of drugs! And here's to; hopefully we'll all face the consequences good or bad of using drugs in the most positive way we can. Like when I experience withdrawals or comedowns I say to myself," Well ol' boy *sigh* you knew what you were in for, now the only way out is to stay clean pure and simple; unless you intended to make things worse, in which case you'll have to learn the hard way. Goodluck to you bud, and we'll celebrate in two weeks with some nice drugs." And after this patch wears off in two days I'll most likely have a very unpleasant sobering up, but doing more opiates is not a good choice in my experience; tried that and after a few more days I couldn't get anymore drugs and the withdrawal was increased in unpleasantness 2x8(. After the patch wears off is when the positive vibes of today come in handy, I'm going to run on today's motivation to ease sobering up and get through the week clean and serene.
Half an hour later, which is now. Current thoughts "This post lasted longer than I thought. It lasted longer because I am still feeling the meth I suppose. This fentanyl patch has me fucked up. A few more bongloads, glass of water and then will I be prepared for a sleeping session."
A nice day indeed.%) Goodnight bluelighters
We went back to her house and spent the rest of the day looking through old family pictures and talking, I even talked to her husband a little(and I thought he didn't like me,I think he's alright with me now). The crystal really helped me get things out that I wanted to talk to my mom about. I'd explain it like; all my thoughts were easier to form into sentences then into projections from my voice-box . Normally I stutter and trip on my words a little. I also had the most exciting, happy, comforting feeling all day; when I'm on crystal I pick up on people's energy/mood a little better and I feel people get my positive or negative vibes quicker. I could tell my mom was just as happy as I was to hangout. I stayed over and had dinner till night I drove home.Now present time I am writing in. I stick on my fentanyl patch and let it override the meth so I can sleep and dream. I feel it, no euphoria, but an unfathomable contentness. I smoked a few bongloads and it seems to have quickened the fentanyl's effects. I am very satisfied on how today turned out. I feel like today's extremely positive energy will give me the motivation I need to complete the days ahead.
Cheers to the positive aspects of drugs! And here's to; hopefully we'll all face the consequences good or bad of using drugs in the most positive way we can. Like when I experience withdrawals or comedowns I say to myself," Well ol' boy *sigh* you knew what you were in for, now the only way out is to stay clean pure and simple; unless you intended to make things worse, in which case you'll have to learn the hard way. Goodluck to you bud, and we'll celebrate in two weeks with some nice drugs." And after this patch wears off in two days I'll most likely have a very unpleasant sobering up, but doing more opiates is not a good choice in my experience; tried that and after a few more days I couldn't get anymore drugs and the withdrawal was increased in unpleasantness 2x8(. After the patch wears off is when the positive vibes of today come in handy, I'm going to run on today's motivation to ease sobering up and get through the week clean and serene.
Half an hour later, which is now. Current thoughts "This post lasted longer than I thought. It lasted longer because I am still feeling the meth I suppose. This fentanyl patch has me fucked up. A few more bongloads, glass of water and then will I be prepared for a sleeping session."
A nice day indeed.%) Goodnight bluelighters
Having a lovely relaxing sunday with my cat and watching house. So it gets to the bit where he's trying to detox from Vicodin. This I would have never thought twice about before using opiates myself.
Now I may be wrong because we don't have Vicodin here in the UK (which just means we can never be cool and look like house). But in this episode he spends the whole night detoxing from Vicodin and the next day has no opiate withdrawal symtoms at all or cravings.
I have only detoxed from Dihydrocodeine so I am no expert but considering I have what would be deemed a 'light' habit it took me well over a week and i'm still not right, this isn't couting however the one night i slipped but still... for a show that claims to be realistic it seems to me none of them have ever really used opiates properly, maybe they should then they can show it completely accurately.
Also how come he's been on Vicodin for 8 years and not needed to move up to a stronger opiate?!
I may seem ridiculous, it is just a television show but why not be accurate when you can.
Now I may be wrong because we don't have Vicodin here in the UK (which just means we can never be cool and look like house). But in this episode he spends the whole night detoxing from Vicodin and the next day has no opiate withdrawal symtoms at all or cravings.
I have only detoxed from Dihydrocodeine so I am no expert but considering I have what would be deemed a 'light' habit it took me well over a week and i'm still not right, this isn't couting however the one night i slipped but still... for a show that claims to be realistic it seems to me none of them have ever really used opiates properly, maybe they should then they can show it completely accurately.
Also how come he's been on Vicodin for 8 years and not needed to move up to a stronger opiate?!
I may seem ridiculous, it is just a television show but why not be accurate when you can.
Newspaper plays an important role in our daily life. It acts as an information guide with necessary realities on several themes. The major purpose of all news papers is to win the belief of the readers by every day dose of hard-core news. In our busy life, newspapers are most important source of information. It is as well the job of a newspaper to ensure that faults are appropriately assured & adjusted.
However, it is important in spotlighting the atmosphere persisting all over the complete continent or nation & the trends of public view. All over again newspapers attach people throughout the globe. In short the crucial purposes of news papers in terms of globe news possibly will be summarized since a main instrument for creating public opinion. An on-line paper, also known as web broadsheet, is in fact a daily Newspaper that is printed & read by World Wide Web. It could be an individual each day that is accessible on-line simply or it can be an online interpretation of a published journal.
The internet has published news each day through via radio, television and other means of broadcast news media in demonstrating their news timely. Formerly, you had to wait until the morning to study concerning an occurrence which had encountered the evening ahead. Thus Newspapers on the internet are modernized various times a day, you come to make out about an affair the instant it encounters.
The greatest advantage of online paper is that they do not lead to getting enormous printing price nor they need manual deliverance. Essentially, these papers are relatively similar to the hard-copy newspapers. They have to follow all the similar legal restrictions, like as laws concerning to slander, seclusion and copyright. A daily Newspaper comprises literature of several types to become the interests of dissimilar readers. It contains elaborated coverage of political news, sports cases and info on entertainment, health & life-style.
Mainly Newspapers have separate sections committed to economics and business. As well there are special pages that have editor in chief's editorials, features that give slanted perspectives of the top journalists concerning several consequences. Daily papers moreover have pages for advertisements of versatile kinds of products. They also have classified pages for jobs & a lot of more. Sunday version of a daily newspaper might have some vouchers or comics attached to it.
egyptian newspapers</a>
newspapers online</a>
free online news
However, it is important in spotlighting the atmosphere persisting all over the complete continent or nation & the trends of public view. All over again newspapers attach people throughout the globe. In short the crucial purposes of news papers in terms of globe news possibly will be summarized since a main instrument for creating public opinion. An on-line paper, also known as web broadsheet, is in fact a daily Newspaper that is printed & read by World Wide Web. It could be an individual each day that is accessible on-line simply or it can be an online interpretation of a published journal.
The internet has published news each day through via radio, television and other means of broadcast news media in demonstrating their news timely. Formerly, you had to wait until the morning to study concerning an occurrence which had encountered the evening ahead. Thus Newspapers on the internet are modernized various times a day, you come to make out about an affair the instant it encounters.
The greatest advantage of online paper is that they do not lead to getting enormous printing price nor they need manual deliverance. Essentially, these papers are relatively similar to the hard-copy newspapers. They have to follow all the similar legal restrictions, like as laws concerning to slander, seclusion and copyright. A daily Newspaper comprises literature of several types to become the interests of dissimilar readers. It contains elaborated coverage of political news, sports cases and info on entertainment, health & life-style.
Mainly Newspapers have separate sections committed to economics and business. As well there are special pages that have editor in chief's editorials, features that give slanted perspectives of the top journalists concerning several consequences. Daily papers moreover have pages for advertisements of versatile kinds of products. They also have classified pages for jobs & a lot of more. Sunday version of a daily newspaper might have some vouchers or comics attached to it.
egyptian newspapers</a>
newspapers online</a>
free online news
Endo Pharmacuticals (spell check) onnounced that one of their main factories was shut down recently due to a recall. That means there will be no available Opana's until March 1. That's a concern but not nearly as much a concern as the re-formulated Opana just as the Oxy was done some 18 months ago. Anyone out there with info on this subject? would be much appreciated!
Too much to say and can't do it on my android, it will take too long so saving it all for the weekend.
I must state though. I am no longer afraid to leave him behind. I may be alone, but I am line on my own terms and I refuse to be ashamed of who I am for a minute longer.
I must state though. I am no longer afraid to leave him behind. I may be alone, but I am line on my own terms and I refuse to be ashamed of who I am for a minute longer.
I am going to pose a serious question for any readers who know anything about the law, more so Canadian law.
I am worried about my case, not so much doing time....well okay that too but I am worried about my chances of my conditions being removed.
I got a domestic assault charge against me but not laid by my gf but rather the police in which they put conditions of no contact. My court date is March 14th in which the lawyer is going to talk to the crown to remove the conditions. I am feeling i am putting too much faith in him to do it. I am not sure to be hopeful or realisitic. I have had the cops out to my place 5 or 6 times. 2 times for me threatening to kill myself and the other times for domestic reasons, none being physical just verbal in which I was depressed and somewhat in a dark train of thought / borderline suicidal.
I am worried the 5/6 times they came out plus this headbutting incident will prolong the conditions. i worry the crown wont approve the taking away of the conditions. Its minor conditions and my gf even told the cops she wasnt threatened by me and didnt want me arrested that we just needed some time apart to calm down and to continue getting our couseling.
March 14th is just the prelim to set a date or something I think but my lawyer said he would talk to the crown.
I worry cause our 1yr anniversary is May 18th and realistically they could set a date for 6 months from now. Courts are so backed up, always have been.
I have no record until now, so no priors. I have mental illness and record of it. I have been seeking help for counselling, anger management, couples counselling. That should work on my side right?
ugh. I hate worrying about it all. I don't want to jinx my luck. I dunno...
I am worried about my case, not so much doing time....well okay that too but I am worried about my chances of my conditions being removed.
I got a domestic assault charge against me but not laid by my gf but rather the police in which they put conditions of no contact. My court date is March 14th in which the lawyer is going to talk to the crown to remove the conditions. I am feeling i am putting too much faith in him to do it. I am not sure to be hopeful or realisitic. I have had the cops out to my place 5 or 6 times. 2 times for me threatening to kill myself and the other times for domestic reasons, none being physical just verbal in which I was depressed and somewhat in a dark train of thought / borderline suicidal.
I am worried the 5/6 times they came out plus this headbutting incident will prolong the conditions. i worry the crown wont approve the taking away of the conditions. Its minor conditions and my gf even told the cops she wasnt threatened by me and didnt want me arrested that we just needed some time apart to calm down and to continue getting our couseling.
March 14th is just the prelim to set a date or something I think but my lawyer said he would talk to the crown.
I worry cause our 1yr anniversary is May 18th and realistically they could set a date for 6 months from now. Courts are so backed up, always have been.
I have no record until now, so no priors. I have mental illness and record of it. I have been seeking help for counselling, anger management, couples counselling. That should work on my side right?
ugh. I hate worrying about it all. I don't want to jinx my luck. I dunno...
I have six roxies sitting in a little pill box directly in front of me...
I can't take them, because of the bupe in my system. I wasted two this morning trying to guage how far I had to go in order to feel anything. Probably about two more days, cause I barely felt shit... And I'll probably be ill as hell and ready to pull my hair out by then.
FUCK I wanna get high!!
... *Sigh* I'll never get this demon off my shoulder. Even if I manage to stay clean the rest of my life, that little voice in my ear will never go away...
I can't take them, because of the bupe in my system. I wasted two this morning trying to guage how far I had to go in order to feel anything. Probably about two more days, cause I barely felt shit... And I'll probably be ill as hell and ready to pull my hair out by then.
FUCK I wanna get high!!
... *Sigh* I'll never get this demon off my shoulder. Even if I manage to stay clean the rest of my life, that little voice in my ear will never go away...
It's a terrible day and I haven't even got to midday yet...
I rode a bus for 40 minutes to get to my new university for the first lessons. I wanted to start IT there because there's no job for chemists (and even if there is, M.Sc. in chemistry earns not much more than a minimum wage which is 1,500 PLN, this is gross income, not counting any taxes). I know there's a need for IT specialists in England from countries from which there are a lot of immigrants. That means Poland is one of these countries.
However, as I arrived at the university I saw that almost all people already have student record books which seemed weird to me. Well, to cut the crap... It turned out that not enough people had come for IT starting in summer semester (only 9 people). And thus the university decided to merge this group of 9 people with the already existing 1st year that started in October '11. This means I'm behind and I have 1 year to catch up and pass all exams from the semester I "missed". Too bad nobody informed me on Saturday that this is what happens and I'm pretty sure they knew by that time they wouldn't start a fresh year but merge it with the already existing year.
I would have to pass exams in Mathematical Analysis, Physics, Ethics, Basics of Programming, and English (the only thing presenting no problems) + ongoing subjects. That's too much for me. I used to be a very smart and catchy student, I loved maths, it was like I could see both in algebra and geometry things others couldn't so fast I could solve any problem. But I've lost this at some point during my benzodiazepine addiction.
So I'm lost generally in all fields of life. It's hard to get a legal job in the UK in low paying market segments and to get a high paying legal one must have proper papers. Also, women don't fall for guys who have no future because they don't have a degree and thus they can't find a good paying job. I don't really know what to do. Loneliness has been killing me for a long time now. I didn't have success in finding any job last time I was in England. Sure it wasn't the best moment because it was in December but with my education and job experience (legal - none) frankly I don't think it's going to be better if I show up in May in London.
I guess it'd be best if I got anything strong and shot up for the last time saving my mum problems with helping me with money all the time and I would put an end to my suffering finally. I'm a wreck mentally. I tried to taper down clonazepam from 6mg to 4mg. No, I have had to take more today again, damn it. It's all useless. I'm useless.
I rode a bus for 40 minutes to get to my new university for the first lessons. I wanted to start IT there because there's no job for chemists (and even if there is, M.Sc. in chemistry earns not much more than a minimum wage which is 1,500 PLN, this is gross income, not counting any taxes). I know there's a need for IT specialists in England from countries from which there are a lot of immigrants. That means Poland is one of these countries.
However, as I arrived at the university I saw that almost all people already have student record books which seemed weird to me. Well, to cut the crap... It turned out that not enough people had come for IT starting in summer semester (only 9 people). And thus the university decided to merge this group of 9 people with the already existing 1st year that started in October '11. This means I'm behind and I have 1 year to catch up and pass all exams from the semester I "missed". Too bad nobody informed me on Saturday that this is what happens and I'm pretty sure they knew by that time they wouldn't start a fresh year but merge it with the already existing year.
I would have to pass exams in Mathematical Analysis, Physics, Ethics, Basics of Programming, and English (the only thing presenting no problems) + ongoing subjects. That's too much for me. I used to be a very smart and catchy student, I loved maths, it was like I could see both in algebra and geometry things others couldn't so fast I could solve any problem. But I've lost this at some point during my benzodiazepine addiction.
So I'm lost generally in all fields of life. It's hard to get a legal job in the UK in low paying market segments and to get a high paying legal one must have proper papers. Also, women don't fall for guys who have no future because they don't have a degree and thus they can't find a good paying job. I don't really know what to do. Loneliness has been killing me for a long time now. I didn't have success in finding any job last time I was in England. Sure it wasn't the best moment because it was in December but with my education and job experience (legal - none) frankly I don't think it's going to be better if I show up in May in London.
I guess it'd be best if I got anything strong and shot up for the last time saving my mum problems with helping me with money all the time and I would put an end to my suffering finally. I'm a wreck mentally. I tried to taper down clonazepam from 6mg to 4mg. No, I have had to take more today again, damn it. It's all useless. I'm useless.
Close your eye see the green grassy hill. . The sun is shining. Run, Run, Run, up the hill to the top. Spin staring in to the blue sky.
The flight is free
Take a look down
The warmth is simmering threw the body. The want the desire of . . . .
well nothing can come to my mind.
Must keep flying. . . .
The flight is free
Take a look down
The warmth is simmering threw the body. The want the desire of . . . .
well nothing can come to my mind.
Must keep flying. . . .
can anybody tell me the closest research chemical to crack cocaine?
I used to make tents out of sheets and tableclothes and chairs. Did everyone else play "tent" or I don't even know what we called it. Remember in the summer if you sprayed the fabric down it would stay a little cooler in the tent?
Oh, if we did a tent at night using the ping pong table and the picnic table we could have loads of room to roll around in and like 42 flashlights to make our tent really rock on the inside. We mostly complained to each other about our sisters and what cunts they were. We braided our hair. We put curlers in our hair. We used our moms' old make up. We couldn't wait to get into all those colors and see what transformations would take place in our magical tent with its soft shine illuminating shadows of the girls dancing around to whatever records we had on hand.
Only had records then. If we were going to have a big roudy get together, we had to have music. I had to hook up an extension cord and unwind it outside then carry in my small record player that was my most prized possession. I was a bitch about it too, because I would never let anyone borrow that record player ever. It packed neatly into its own suitcase and was high technology for the time.
If I went in the house to get snacks or use the restroom, on my return I notice that our tent glowed like the full moon does sometimes when it first comes over the horizon. It looks enormously unnaturally big bright glorious. The combination of friends, food, music, stories and all glittering light that caused the outside of our tent to shine as big and impressive as the moon, while inside it was like an enchanting crystal ball with shapes and shadows that shift before the eye quite sees what it was and then to be drawn in to take part of the radiance inside our tent, accented by glamorous random gleaming spotlights whenever the light from the little flashlights intersected with the mirrors we were using. To our imaginations we were not in my back yard at all! Our tent seemed to be able to take us anywhere we wanted to go, as long as we had understanding of all the words we would need in order to work our imaginations into the speed we wished them to take us.
NO! A FORT. OMG we used to call it a fort. How fucking ridiculous is that? five barefoot neighbor girls including me with red sunburn on our noses, blisters rising, sleeping outside under a table covered with various colorful clothes and blankets. We ended up talking til the wee hours when it starts to get actually cold in southern California, that's when we went in and the girls waited in line to call their parents to please take them home and put them in their warm waiting beds.
You thought perhaps there was going be to something sexual happening in our Arabian shed? I'm sorry to have disappointed you but the boys in the neighborhood knew we were out there and made every effort to attract our attention. They made scary noises, they spied on us with binoculars, one would jump the fence and tear half of our fort covering off as he ran past and out through the gate. There was no chance of playing "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" with the harsh energy and abrasive voices the boys brought with them everywhere they went.
That has been many decades ago and I don't know where any of those childhood friends live anymore. They're just.... gone.
Their memories, or more to the point, the memories of the wonderful precious fun and freedom I felt, caused me to make a tent again but just for myself. Last night I cobbled a tiny little tent inside my bedroom.
I have been uncomfortable in my bed of late because I'm having health problems, so tonight I decided to use my side of the bed, my dresser, and two chairs for the four weigh bearing sides of the tent. I wanted to sleep on the floor without feeling crummy about it, therefore, I created a very small tent.
I have a nice tapestry rug underneath me with a very soft faux fur to lay on. I have a heating pad on the floor under me. I have collected lots of the colorful, thin "tapestries" over the years... those large printed sheets of cloth with celtic or fantasy or indian designs stamped on them. (I love them for laying on the ground at music festivals.)
I brought several pillows into this little tent to adjust the positioning of my limbs comfortably, the way I want to be positioned. I attached these tapestry cloths temporarily but reasonably secure over the furniture and I attached all the seams together with clothes pins. There is just one way to get in, one way to get out, and room for one only. I spent last night so snug, so secure in the tent in my room. I hotboxed in there and I listened to music and let go of everything I worry about. (Should you decide to do this, make sure your fire extinguisher is in working order and in the nearest closet. An ash flew out and scared me but it went out quite quickly.) I brought a bottle of water and some grapes and an orange with me, climbed into my tent, hotboxed it so well I felt like a boss, and laid down to listen to music.
My husband had been asleep on his side of the bed all this time. So he got up to use the restroom and I heard him stop dead in the doorway and say, "what the hell is wrong with you?!" I asked him if he built forts with his friends when he was a kid, and of course I knew he did. I said, "I needed to lie on the floor but it makes me feel vulnerable, so I made a tent." He looked at our dog and said, "thats YOUR mother."
My observations of spending the night in a tent in my bedroom while my husband was unaware and asleep on his side is that as long as I have good music and headphones, smoke trees with the most extraordinary caution I can muster then in the morning I can slip out my little flap and into the new day with a refreshed peaceful feeling. The small and cozy area, the darkness and the softness of it, and the faint instinct of being able to create an area of sweet relief from pain and from noise was comforting, and satisfying and deeply gratifying.
Oh, if we did a tent at night using the ping pong table and the picnic table we could have loads of room to roll around in and like 42 flashlights to make our tent really rock on the inside. We mostly complained to each other about our sisters and what cunts they were. We braided our hair. We put curlers in our hair. We used our moms' old make up. We couldn't wait to get into all those colors and see what transformations would take place in our magical tent with its soft shine illuminating shadows of the girls dancing around to whatever records we had on hand.
Only had records then. If we were going to have a big roudy get together, we had to have music. I had to hook up an extension cord and unwind it outside then carry in my small record player that was my most prized possession. I was a bitch about it too, because I would never let anyone borrow that record player ever. It packed neatly into its own suitcase and was high technology for the time.
If I went in the house to get snacks or use the restroom, on my return I notice that our tent glowed like the full moon does sometimes when it first comes over the horizon. It looks enormously unnaturally big bright glorious. The combination of friends, food, music, stories and all glittering light that caused the outside of our tent to shine as big and impressive as the moon, while inside it was like an enchanting crystal ball with shapes and shadows that shift before the eye quite sees what it was and then to be drawn in to take part of the radiance inside our tent, accented by glamorous random gleaming spotlights whenever the light from the little flashlights intersected with the mirrors we were using. To our imaginations we were not in my back yard at all! Our tent seemed to be able to take us anywhere we wanted to go, as long as we had understanding of all the words we would need in order to work our imaginations into the speed we wished them to take us.
NO! A FORT. OMG we used to call it a fort. How fucking ridiculous is that? five barefoot neighbor girls including me with red sunburn on our noses, blisters rising, sleeping outside under a table covered with various colorful clothes and blankets. We ended up talking til the wee hours when it starts to get actually cold in southern California, that's when we went in and the girls waited in line to call their parents to please take them home and put them in their warm waiting beds.
You thought perhaps there was going be to something sexual happening in our Arabian shed? I'm sorry to have disappointed you but the boys in the neighborhood knew we were out there and made every effort to attract our attention. They made scary noises, they spied on us with binoculars, one would jump the fence and tear half of our fort covering off as he ran past and out through the gate. There was no chance of playing "I'll show you mine if you show me yours" with the harsh energy and abrasive voices the boys brought with them everywhere they went.
That has been many decades ago and I don't know where any of those childhood friends live anymore. They're just.... gone.
Their memories, or more to the point, the memories of the wonderful precious fun and freedom I felt, caused me to make a tent again but just for myself. Last night I cobbled a tiny little tent inside my bedroom.
I have been uncomfortable in my bed of late because I'm having health problems, so tonight I decided to use my side of the bed, my dresser, and two chairs for the four weigh bearing sides of the tent. I wanted to sleep on the floor without feeling crummy about it, therefore, I created a very small tent.
I have a nice tapestry rug underneath me with a very soft faux fur to lay on. I have a heating pad on the floor under me. I have collected lots of the colorful, thin "tapestries" over the years... those large printed sheets of cloth with celtic or fantasy or indian designs stamped on them. (I love them for laying on the ground at music festivals.)
I brought several pillows into this little tent to adjust the positioning of my limbs comfortably, the way I want to be positioned. I attached these tapestry cloths temporarily but reasonably secure over the furniture and I attached all the seams together with clothes pins. There is just one way to get in, one way to get out, and room for one only. I spent last night so snug, so secure in the tent in my room. I hotboxed in there and I listened to music and let go of everything I worry about. (Should you decide to do this, make sure your fire extinguisher is in working order and in the nearest closet. An ash flew out and scared me but it went out quite quickly.) I brought a bottle of water and some grapes and an orange with me, climbed into my tent, hotboxed it so well I felt like a boss, and laid down to listen to music.
My husband had been asleep on his side of the bed all this time. So he got up to use the restroom and I heard him stop dead in the doorway and say, "what the hell is wrong with you?!" I asked him if he built forts with his friends when he was a kid, and of course I knew he did. I said, "I needed to lie on the floor but it makes me feel vulnerable, so I made a tent." He looked at our dog and said, "thats YOUR mother."
My observations of spending the night in a tent in my bedroom while my husband was unaware and asleep on his side is that as long as I have good music and headphones, smoke trees with the most extraordinary caution I can muster then in the morning I can slip out my little flap and into the new day with a refreshed peaceful feeling. The small and cozy area, the darkness and the softness of it, and the faint instinct of being able to create an area of sweet relief from pain and from noise was comforting, and satisfying and deeply gratifying.
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know...
Ah, I hate to quote the Velvet Underground, as it seems so cliche, but it also seems pretty on point. Because that's what I've turned into, or at least what I'm attempting.
Everyday I ride the F train to and from the city, and its really my favorite time of the day, because I get to zone out, and sketch the different passengers. I like to draw middle age-old men and women, because I can really see all the muscles on their faces, which sort of limp down from their heightened skull matter. I also try to draw beautiful women, because that's worked for me in the past. Some people get laid because they're attractive, some because they're charismatic. I get layed because I can draw.
Today I boarded the F train at about 7pm, and as I stepped through the doors, my Nose was assaulted by an offensive, pungent stench, like that of a wet filthy dog on fire. As I clutched on to one of the poles, to keep myself from falling, I managed to come to my senses, and scan the car for the sign of the perpetrator, or perpetrator's I should say. Sure enough, about twenty feet from me sat two squatters with a wet dog. I turned back, as I didn't want to stare, but my curiosity got to me, as I had a pretty good chance of knowing these people, since I used to cop heroin over by Tompkins Square Park. So I took a second glance, and sure enough, I did recognize one of them, but they weren't at all who I had expected.
Three years ago I managed to get out of the seemingly endless cycle of detox-inpatient-extended care-halfway house, and back home to NYC. After more than half a year of dealing with bullshit institutions, I finally had decided to get clean, and I joined this recovery group for young people, ranging from teens to people in their mid 20's. I wasn't very popular there, and I think a lot of the people got the idea that I thought I was somehow better, more hardcore than the rest of them, because I was the only IV heroin/cocaine user. In some sense, there might have been some truth to that, but it was all a show really, as I had no other real accomplishments to be proud of.
So I managed to stay clean, which seemed like an impossible feat, but as the months went by, I really started getting into 12step programs, as well as this recovery group. I sort of gained some popularity within my peers for my art, as well as my "brutal honesty". The guys still didn't care much for me, but I was winning over some of the girls.
Its important to point out, that I have never been a "player". I'm probably the opposite of that, as I'm actually pretty intimidated by women, and terrified by sex. I've never initiated a relationship in my life, and it's miraculous that I've ever gotten laid in the first place.
Anyway, some of the girls in this group gained a little bit of interest in me, and one in particular, who happened to live close by the advertisement agency that I had an internship (paid), at the time. Though I didn't really have any real feelings for this girl, I felt some kind of strange pressure to persue her, though I can't tell even now, if that pressure was coming from myself, or from my "bro's".Eventually I hooked up with this chick, and I landed myself into a situation that I was really not to happy to be in. In all honesty, I don't think this girl was really that into me, because I had seen the types of guys she had been with in the past, very masculine, aggressive dude's with pierced septums. I think rather, that she was one of the types that need to be with someone (though I think everybody has been that type at one point or another), and since I was the "new hot thing", she picked me.
I actually tried to slow things down with her, because I knew the relationship was not one that I wanted to be involved in, but every time I tried to pull away, or sit further apart from her on the couch while watching a movie, she got really upset, and I'd hear about her complaints through mutual friends. I was at a real loss as to how to handle the situation, so like a coward, I slept with her, and when she asked if we were "together", I said "sure".
A couple weeks after the rather awkward intercourse that we had, I ended up relapsing, first on two vicodin, and then on a week long bender where I was shooting coke and heroin around the clock. This occurred during Christmas time however, and both my family, as well as hers, had gone on vacation, so my return to heroin, was a secret. When I got back to New York, I left my house early in the morning to cop some more heroin, and spent the whole day through evening, injecting dope with homeless people on the Bowery. In my warped state, I somehow had the idea that I could go to my recovery group and act like I was sober, despite the fact that I had broken my nose, was bleeding from my forehead, and barely breathing. So I stumbled into this group of young people in recovery, and basically passed the fuck out.
I came to several days later, and found that I still had a few bags of heroin left, so I shot them up, and them went back to this girls house, whe we had awkward sex once again, and then I watched her and a friend play basketball down on Houston, while I nodded out on a park bench.
When the heroin was gone, and I really realized that I fucked up my sobriety, I really took it hard, and the relationship I had with this girl just seemed like an added stressor that I couldn't deal with. Instead of discussing it with her like a human being however, I just decided to ignore her phone calls and text messages for about a month, while I scrambled money together to shoot more cocaine. Eventually I got the courage up to call her, but the damage was already done, because that phone call had been due months earlier. A few weeks later, I learned that she relapsed, and that was the last I heard of her.
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So when I looked back on the train, and focused my view on the two squatters, it dawned on me that one of them was this girl. It was obvious that she was strung out, there is just this physical manifestation that occurs when people inject drugs. Sometimes there bodies kind of eat away at themselves, and other times, they seem to puff out, with some kind of gross filmy gloss that hangs onto their skin. I don't know if she saw me, but I didn't wait to find out, I switched trains at the next stop, and cowered in a corner seat, trying to distract myself by drawing some middle aged geezer. The drawing turned out pretty well, but it didn't really make me feel better. I am a good person, I have to believe that, but part of me really is twisted, and unkind.
Ah, I hate to quote the Velvet Underground, as it seems so cliche, but it also seems pretty on point. Because that's what I've turned into, or at least what I'm attempting.
Everyday I ride the F train to and from the city, and its really my favorite time of the day, because I get to zone out, and sketch the different passengers. I like to draw middle age-old men and women, because I can really see all the muscles on their faces, which sort of limp down from their heightened skull matter. I also try to draw beautiful women, because that's worked for me in the past. Some people get laid because they're attractive, some because they're charismatic. I get layed because I can draw.
Today I boarded the F train at about 7pm, and as I stepped through the doors, my Nose was assaulted by an offensive, pungent stench, like that of a wet filthy dog on fire. As I clutched on to one of the poles, to keep myself from falling, I managed to come to my senses, and scan the car for the sign of the perpetrator, or perpetrator's I should say. Sure enough, about twenty feet from me sat two squatters with a wet dog. I turned back, as I didn't want to stare, but my curiosity got to me, as I had a pretty good chance of knowing these people, since I used to cop heroin over by Tompkins Square Park. So I took a second glance, and sure enough, I did recognize one of them, but they weren't at all who I had expected.
Three years ago I managed to get out of the seemingly endless cycle of detox-inpatient-extended care-halfway house, and back home to NYC. After more than half a year of dealing with bullshit institutions, I finally had decided to get clean, and I joined this recovery group for young people, ranging from teens to people in their mid 20's. I wasn't very popular there, and I think a lot of the people got the idea that I thought I was somehow better, more hardcore than the rest of them, because I was the only IV heroin/cocaine user. In some sense, there might have been some truth to that, but it was all a show really, as I had no other real accomplishments to be proud of.
So I managed to stay clean, which seemed like an impossible feat, but as the months went by, I really started getting into 12step programs, as well as this recovery group. I sort of gained some popularity within my peers for my art, as well as my "brutal honesty". The guys still didn't care much for me, but I was winning over some of the girls.
Its important to point out, that I have never been a "player". I'm probably the opposite of that, as I'm actually pretty intimidated by women, and terrified by sex. I've never initiated a relationship in my life, and it's miraculous that I've ever gotten laid in the first place.
Anyway, some of the girls in this group gained a little bit of interest in me, and one in particular, who happened to live close by the advertisement agency that I had an internship (paid), at the time. Though I didn't really have any real feelings for this girl, I felt some kind of strange pressure to persue her, though I can't tell even now, if that pressure was coming from myself, or from my "bro's".Eventually I hooked up with this chick, and I landed myself into a situation that I was really not to happy to be in. In all honesty, I don't think this girl was really that into me, because I had seen the types of guys she had been with in the past, very masculine, aggressive dude's with pierced septums. I think rather, that she was one of the types that need to be with someone (though I think everybody has been that type at one point or another), and since I was the "new hot thing", she picked me.
I actually tried to slow things down with her, because I knew the relationship was not one that I wanted to be involved in, but every time I tried to pull away, or sit further apart from her on the couch while watching a movie, she got really upset, and I'd hear about her complaints through mutual friends. I was at a real loss as to how to handle the situation, so like a coward, I slept with her, and when she asked if we were "together", I said "sure".
A couple weeks after the rather awkward intercourse that we had, I ended up relapsing, first on two vicodin, and then on a week long bender where I was shooting coke and heroin around the clock. This occurred during Christmas time however, and both my family, as well as hers, had gone on vacation, so my return to heroin, was a secret. When I got back to New York, I left my house early in the morning to cop some more heroin, and spent the whole day through evening, injecting dope with homeless people on the Bowery. In my warped state, I somehow had the idea that I could go to my recovery group and act like I was sober, despite the fact that I had broken my nose, was bleeding from my forehead, and barely breathing. So I stumbled into this group of young people in recovery, and basically passed the fuck out.
I came to several days later, and found that I still had a few bags of heroin left, so I shot them up, and them went back to this girls house, whe we had awkward sex once again, and then I watched her and a friend play basketball down on Houston, while I nodded out on a park bench.
When the heroin was gone, and I really realized that I fucked up my sobriety, I really took it hard, and the relationship I had with this girl just seemed like an added stressor that I couldn't deal with. Instead of discussing it with her like a human being however, I just decided to ignore her phone calls and text messages for about a month, while I scrambled money together to shoot more cocaine. Eventually I got the courage up to call her, but the damage was already done, because that phone call had been due months earlier. A few weeks later, I learned that she relapsed, and that was the last I heard of her.
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So when I looked back on the train, and focused my view on the two squatters, it dawned on me that one of them was this girl. It was obvious that she was strung out, there is just this physical manifestation that occurs when people inject drugs. Sometimes there bodies kind of eat away at themselves, and other times, they seem to puff out, with some kind of gross filmy gloss that hangs onto their skin. I don't know if she saw me, but I didn't wait to find out, I switched trains at the next stop, and cowered in a corner seat, trying to distract myself by drawing some middle aged geezer. The drawing turned out pretty well, but it didn't really make me feel better. I am a good person, I have to believe that, but part of me really is twisted, and unkind.
Hello,
I have few questions about the recrystallization. I've tried with all solvents that i had access , ethanol and methanol looks to be the best .
With water , there's something that i miss for sure , i don't know what to do with it , ?
I just got ether , should i do it with this instead of ethanol and methanol ?
And toluene? if i mix water and toluene , where's my compound? how can i extract it ?
Should i wash it with acetone before starting the recrystallization?
Should i cover my flask wright after boiling and start to cool down?
Freezer , counter or ice bath is the best to cool down?
Is there'S tricks to make big and solids shards?
Do the erlemyer is a good choice the cook a small batch ?
hope someone will give me good tricks so i can finally make something good for me !
Thanks
I have few questions about the recrystallization. I've tried with all solvents that i had access , ethanol and methanol looks to be the best .
With water , there's something that i miss for sure , i don't know what to do with it , ?
I just got ether , should i do it with this instead of ethanol and methanol ?
And toluene? if i mix water and toluene , where's my compound? how can i extract it ?
Should i wash it with acetone before starting the recrystallization?
Should i cover my flask wright after boiling and start to cool down?
Freezer , counter or ice bath is the best to cool down?
Is there'S tricks to make big and solids shards?
Do the erlemyer is a good choice the cook a small batch ?
hope someone will give me good tricks so i can finally make something good for me !
Thanks
I made it home. Driving 6 and a half hours down I-94 in a 1986 honda civic. This car, is so loud, my ears ring. A homeless man wouldn't drive this car because it would ruin his style. Anyways, I made it home. It's nice to be around family, mainly my mom, but soon others. 2 weeks clean and an appointment thursday to get medicine for bi polar. Despite being hounded by mail telling me i owe this much and that much, i guess i'm doing ok. Still want to die but we'll wait it out and see how things change.