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Obama is the boss.

He drives the airplane.

Respect the game.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T-hDt2E8MoE

i was at dinner tonight with my husband when a little girl and her (i presume) dad sat down. the girl was absolutely thrilled to be out with her dad and it reminded me of eating out with my dad. i look back and the times we hung out together stand out the most... like the time he bought scalped tickets to a baseball game. we happened to be near the stadium and he asked if i wanted to go to the game. it was raining, and the game was already a few innings in, but we went anyhow. we ended up sitting behind home plate and drew carey was in a suite above us. at some point, drew carey started signing stuff and throwing it down onto the seats below. my mom was pissed as hell when we got home because we had some sort of family thing we all were supposed to do.

another time, i was about 18-19 and in puerto rico with my family. my mom and sister were chilling on the beach, so my dad suggested we walk around town. my dad suggested we stop at a bar and grab a drink. we found this little upstairs patio/bar and my dad ordered a round of drinks. one round turned into several and we ended up hanging out at the bar for several hours. it was pretty cool to get drunk with my dad and chat with the waiters. again, my mom was pissed when my dad and i returned cause we were both rather unsober.

then there are things my dad has taught me, llike how to fix my car and do basic home repairs. or to think for myself and stand up for what i believe in. and to not get caught up in the petty bullshit my family likes to engage in.

i want to tell him what an impact he has had on me. but it feels weird. i know i would tell anyone else posting something similar to just send this post, but i don't think i could. i am generally detached and removed from my family. i don't know how to tell them i appreciate them

I've recently decided to try and quit using opiates. I've been an addict for about 4 years now. I usually do Roxies but I'll pretty much do any opiate I can get my hands on. I spent about 2 years using the needle but got clean for a couple months when I met my current boyfriend and was dealing with some legal troubles. I eventually started using again but ditched the rigs. My boyfriend told me that if he ever found out that I shot up again, he would leave me, so now I just snort everything. We've been together for about 2 years now and have plans to get married but the other day he basically told me it was the opiates or him...I love him and really don't want to loose him but the withdrawals are the hardest thing I've ever had to go through. I planned on using this weekend to get clean so I could try and be over the sickest days and make it to class on monday. but I've slipped up and haven't made it one day yet. I'm about to graduate from college and I know there is no way I'm going to make it in the "real" world as an addict without my student loans. I don't know what to do...i feel completely hopeless against this drug. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. I just know that if I can make it through the flu-like days I can stay away from it. I never want to go through it ever again.

Why are the evenings always the hardest!?
I was lucky enough to receive some unexpected cash earlier today, enough that I could spare a few bags worth anyway. I text my man but for some reason he didn't reply, and while stting and waiting for him to do so I kind of realized... what's the point?
It's not like I'm sick, I've had my Methadone today so there's no physical need for it. And what will it do? If I'm lucky I'll get really fucked for an hour at most, at worst I'll get a little rush and a few minutes of feeling 'high'.
Is it really worth it? Tomorrow morning when I'm once again out of drugs / money and am in the EXACT same situation as I am now, will it be worth it then?
I guess this is what they call will power, I'm not expecting it to last but it does make a nice change from 'I have money? excuse me while I fire it all into my arm as fast as possible' route that I normally take

Total saved: £70

As we were trying to casually dance around the issue of what we would do if it turned out our last remaining cat's limp was caused by the same cancer that killed our other one, she mentions that, "just in case one day I don't make it home", all the information you'd need is securely filed away downstairs.

And I thought I was the only one who'd put more planning into my death than my life

I'm sure everyone has experienced it, but what do you do about it? There's nothing physically wrong at the moment, which is huge! My health seems to be leveling out from this bumpy rollercoaster, and that's the best news I've had in a while..however, I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'm just fucking drained.

Yesterday (Friday, Jan 20) was the worst day I've had in a while. I've been spending too much time with my dad. I need to get away from him. Every fucking thing he does bugs the shit out of me. He's losing his memory and mind (his dad had really bad Alzheimer's) and there's no doubt in my mind that he's showing symptoms. I can't blame him for that, but he knows, he KNOWS he's losing his mind, he says it every day. It just bothers the crap outta me because he's fighting and arguing with me when he knows he's wrong! He picks fights now, insists he's right, insists that's what he said, but he can't even fucking remember right! I know, it's terrible he's losing his mind, it's horrible. I can't imagine what that's like, but why, WHY, argue and insist when you can't even remember what you said? And it's the littlest fucking things too. "No, I never said we would do this..I thought you said this..That's not what you said!" and he'll argue about a fucking tense of a word, or he'll miss a word or two and are things so fucking literally. Then, when he says something, it's always "did you do the thing, with the person, that you were talking about?" and ll ask, "what?" and he'll get all balled up and start yelling and getting pissed off because I can fucking figure out what he's asking! I say all the time "be specific! You're too fucking vague, how do I know what you're asking me?" or he'll start saying something and trail off mid sentence and expect me to know what the next words are.. I have to constantly say "speak..use your words.. Fnish your fucking thought!" then he gets even madder bc he doesn't know what he's trying to say. OMG! Sorry. I know, I'm getting aggravated by the littlest tiny thing, but honestly, it's been like three years and I can't fucking take it anymore.

I'm thinking of staying with my aunt for a little while. But what do I say to my added why I'm leaving. No problem moving in with her, in fact she wants me to, but the problem is, she's so far away from all my friends and everyone else I know, that if I really need something from someone I wouldn't know anyone to come and help. She and her husband work full time, and I'm not really at the point in my recovery where I can p, or should be home along every day from like 6am til almost 6pm. But on the other hand, she is stocked with food :D What? I'm a hungry girl lately! And she gets the good stuff! Not, dollar store salami or day old bagels..

God my dad is so fucking cheap! He'll bich and complain about not having any money, he doesn't work, by choice "oh I can't find a job"...he hasn't gone on a job interview or called about a fucking job in two years! But then he always has money to but a $250 camera, spend $100 on a fish tank, a stand, fish, etc.. Computer equipment, you name it, he'll spend the money on it, but nooo he can't buy the Annie's Mac and cheese because it's .25 cents more than the Kraft. Or no, he can't buy more convenient water bottles (I like to put them in the fridge then take it with me, just grab and go, they're always cold, I can freeze them, etc) becausenits cheaper to buy the gallon of water and refill the bottles. Tho it's been proven that's how bacteria builds up when bottles aren't washed out completely, water isn't pure when not freshly opened, whatever (my mom was a chemist, she brought me up on water bottles, never to drink tap water and never to refill them). It's so fucking aggravating, he even gets mad when I buy them! He claims it's "better" but the hole reason he doesn't like them is because it's more to throw away.. He doesn't pay for trash pick up.. That bothers the shit out of me. Illegal dumping is arrestable, and he asks me all the time to bring the trash to the store and throw it out at a dumpster somewhere. I refuse, he gets pissed and screams and yells, it's a constant battle.

Ugh! I could go on and on and on, but I'll just leave it at this, you can see how frustrated I am, and hopefully understand why I'm so mad lately. Should I say something to him? What? Tell him he's a fucking asshole and to get a fucking job.. Well, my brother's already had a screaming fight with him, telling him to man up, get a job, and support his kids.. Not constantly expecting us to pay for him... Btw. My brother and I gave him a combined 45k to build his house.. And he's still asking us for money.. Pathetic.

And I'm still not going to listen to that "oh my life sucks, my gf dumped me I hate life.." crappy Emo music... Forget it!

Thanks for listening!
V

CoffeeDrinker said:

You don't have the capability to cut. You simply reinforce your image as a moronic piss-ant every time you post your idiotic and butt-hurt ramblings. If I'm ever curious about your opinions in the future, which I won't be, all I'd need to do is imagine what a vegetative retard with a cerebral hemorrhage who got shot in the solar plexus while listening to Alex Jones and jerking off to hentai would think, WHICH just happens to be the sound I'd expect you making every time you open your pre-pubescent mouth. So run along now you unbleachable skid mark on the banana hammock of human society. Run along. It's been fun. Come back when your necrotic balls drop and you've dared to talk to a female and maybe I'll be interested in rehashing the thought's I've discarded as a 9 year old, ok? But, until then, bye bye now.

Click to expand...

C'mon tell me more!

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After a grappling session at jiujitsu class our instructor tells us about some of the law enforcement guys who come to him for training. He used to be a cop as well.. But they talk to him after class about some of the shit they see day to day. Anyways, he was saying what a cop was telling him just the other day about something recent. A few sewage maintenance workers were inspecting the pipeline in an unincorporated community not far from us. They notice a strange pipe crudely connected to the main line, its not on the blueprints, so they follow it to a nearby place of residence. The authorities are soon notified and a search warrant was issued. Inside the garage, where the pipe leads, there was a big, conical metal vat, several feet tall and open at the top, a few feet wide. Next to it was a large metal mixing spatula or something. The shelves, top to bottom, were full of gallons of muriatic acid and some other chemical I don't recall, lye maybe? Suspicious indeed.. Two people lived there, both of Salvadorian dissent, one here illegally from El Salvador. The other had a total of $70,000 in several bank accounts, plus several thousand at the home.. Records show he hasn't had a job in ten years. They find nothing else other than the cash, metal structure, and the gallons of muriatic acid. The illegal was deported and the other guy is still being questioned.

To readers: I had attempted to save the first portion of this entry as a draft but apparently it inadvertantly posted mid- sentence and so this will now be the second installment in what may be a multi-part series on a mind numbing clusterfuck I like to call, "my lovelife."

To continue where I had so abruptly left off...

Joysa's Tita Gem, or, Aunt Gemma, returned home to the Philippines a relatively well off, having parlayed her job as a "Japasuki," or Filipina Blow Job Technician into the role of relatively pampered mistress of a mid-level wage slave. After managing to get pregnant aje was given enough of a "severance package" to allow Gemma to build herself what passes as a middle class home in the Philippines. This "windfall" also allowed many members of her large extended family to university, including Joysaa

What's up everyone? It's been a while since I've been on... Let me know how you have been.

As noted in my recent entries, I had headed up to Manila to spend New Years Eve with Joysa. i had imagined an evening on the terrace. I sublet a condo in Citiland de la Rosa, which is about as posh as it gets in Southeast Asia. The "terrace" is a rooftop pool looking out actoss the city and though in Makati, one can still see Manila Bay and its fireworks display just as the clock strikes midnite. Of course things often have a way of not coming together and so it was that I reveived an unwelcome text as I visited the Israeli Embassy around the corner from the condo. I had been there to modify the End Users Certificates on a hundred piece sale of Tavor Bullpups, the best micro assault rifle in existence, having concluded a sale to the AFP (Armed Forces of the Philippines).

Joysa: Hi baby, I hope u wont b 2 angry with me but we arent gonna b able to spend tonight on the terrace.

Rachamim: (Secretly relieved ay not seeing Joysa) Damn honey, i bern missing you so much and tonight of all days?

J: Ohhhhhhh, I miss u so bad! Thats why I told everyone u would b meeting us at Tita Gem's place in Pamp! (Tita Gem is Aunt Gemma, the Japasuki I have written about in the past. "Japasuki" is Philippine slang for Filipinas who head up to Japan on what they imagine to be lucrative labour contracts. Much to their suprise they are sold into sexual slavery. Gemma was able to become a "Mamasan," or, Head Prostitute- no double entendre please . Returning home to the Philippines she was able to build what amounts to a middle class house in this dark corner of G-D's green acre.

As the "richest" member of her large extended family Gemma became the de facto family leader. Her sister Susana, Joysa's mum, had entered into common law marriage with Joey, Joysa's dad, at the nubile age of 14. the teenaged couple then built a shack literally four meters from the banks of the Haganoy River in the toen bearing that same name in Bulacan Province. Joysa was born two years later and today lives in that same dilaphidated shack.

Basic Education is ostensibly guaranteed through high school but in reality, not many people can afford to pay for their childrens' kncidental expences. In a nation where most familrs live on $3 a day- when they are fortunate enough to actually find work- pencils and writing tablets take a rear seat to mealy white rice and the bitter melon thay constitutes the daily staple here. It was Gemma who ensured that both Joysa and het slightly younger brother Jhon [sic] finished school. Indeed, Gemma theb bankrolled Joysa's two year junior college degree, thereby saving her from repeating the unpromising life trajectory of Joey and Susana.

In the past I have discussed probably the most important thing Gemma has ever done for Joysa. More than ten percent of ghe Philippine Economy consists of remittances home from OFWs, the Overseas Foreign Workers. Whether they dole out lifesaving medical care as RNs in the UD, hand out donuts in Krispy Kreme franchises all over Saudi Arabia, or distribute handjobs in Tokyo- just like Jemma used to do- they serve as status symbols and role models formost of the nation's teeming masses. It is not suprising then to know that even before graduating from junior college Joysa attempted to gain a position in Japan.

To be continued...

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I don't know what put me on this stimulant kick. Probably lack of access to oxy. I guess I'm giving my opioid receptors a break and burning out some dopamine/norepinephrine receptors for a change. I must remember to mind my fluids and electrolytes (Gatorade!) as well as eat something. Maybe a banana. Those are the only things I can stomach when I'm like this.

Hopefully I will be getting some oxy tomorrow, if all works out the way it's supposed to. I hope I don't sleep through the call... Hmm. Well, oxy is usually enough to motivate me to do things. Sadly enough. I can put off anything till tomorrow... except scoring. I wanna do that shit NOW! Ugh, I don't wanna be sketched the fuck out when I cop though. I hate that shit. Before it was a nice setup where I could go to my dude's house and chill for a bit, do a line of oxy and smoke a bowl, and at least feel somewhat safe (plus at least if I got arrested I'd be HIGH already) but now it's always on the street, in public. Everyone looks like a fucking cop when you're coming off stimulants and even more so when you're buying drugs while coming off stimulants.

How do meth heads do it? Oh, wait, they don't... there's the psychosis and shadow people. :D Guess I'm just a pussy. The days of doing anything and everything all at once -- in public no less -- are over. I don't have parents to bail me out of jail or give me money if I blow it all on drugs and someone has to take care of my brother. Plus I don't want my girlfriend involved if anything goes wrong. She doesn't deserve that. I always have the "getting caught" scenario stuck in my head -- what I would say, what I would do. Would I eat all of the oxy so I could at least be high while I was in jail? I wouldn't want to catch another charge for that though. Like destroying evidence or something. And it's not like I get my money back if I get arrested. Hahaha. God, I am such an idiot. I don't care about myself but my girlfriend doesn't need a record. But she insists on going with me when I cop. Perhaps to keep how much money I spend in check? Perhaps because we're completely codependent?

(I don't know who snores louder though -- my girlfriend or my Dachshund. Ha! She'd get a kick out of that comment.)

I also wish this sinus infection would go away. Perhaps I should rethink snorting stuff for a while. Only the first line hurts, though. The rest go down easy. Opana was the last thing to give me a nosebleed. I took half of my antibiotics so hopefully that killed the infection. I know you're supposed to finish all of your antibiotics so you don't go and breed drug-resistant bacterial strains but no one is fucking perfect, right?

So, self-control. I have none. Obviously. But is it really about self-control at this point? It's probably more about addiction, habits, masking emotions and familiar routines now. Oh, yeah, and I like to get high. But I bet that was obvious.

I've been listening to a lot of music I haven't listened to in a long time. One band in particular comes to mind -- the Stockyard Stoics. They were a punk band from Brooklyn. I'm fairly sure they've been broken up for years now. I used to go to as many of their shows as I could. I also used to go to the Hardcore/Punk Matinee at ABC No Rio most Saturdays. If I wasn't so shy, I suppose I'd have a lot more friends from that part of my life. The only time I didn't feel self-conscious was when the band was actually playing. Otherwise, it was a bunch of awkward teenagers looking at each other, judging who was "punk" and who was a "poseur". I wasn't into drugs then. The music was my drug. I have one of their CDs but I don't know where the other one I bought is. Somewhere in this garbage heap I call an apartment.

I am so sorry this is so long. I know that nobody will read this amphetamine-fueled nonsense. Please forgive me for wasting your precious bandwidth, Bluelight. If anyone actually read this, please leave a comment or something so I can send you virtual flowers or something.

Oh, and here are the lyrics and a link to a very fitting song right now:

Adolescent Chemistry by the Stockyard Stoics

Oh Jason
He don't need a reason
And it's always the season
For getting loose and unbent
He can't pay the rent
And Rachel has seen one too many late nights
Her place is cleaned up just right
A bloody nose and razor blades
She's a hand grenade

There's nothing wrong in fun
And you're not the only one
That's paid too high a price for what's been done
I'll always want to play
And laugh my days away
We're paying with our lives for being young

Now Kiefer is making all sorts of new friends
He's living out on the streets
Again, transcending love and pain
It's in his veins
And Jesse
She don't need a reason
And it's always the season
For getting loose and undressed
And you know the rest

There's nothing wrong in fun
And you're not the only one
That's paid too high a price for what's been done
I'll always want to play
And laugh my days away
We're paying with our lives for being young

Guitar!

Ritalin and LSD
Adolescent chemistry
Take what you can
Get what you can
Do it all over all over again
Rossi and amphetamines
Adolescent chemistry
You took what you could get
You were never second best
A step beyond the rest
Rest well my friends

There's nothing wrong in fun
And you're not the only one
That's paid too high a price for what's been done
I'll always want to play
And laugh my days away
We're paying with our lives for being young

So I'm up for the 2nd night in a row.

Last night it was cocaine, tonight it's Adderall IR. I did get some sleep last night at least. I don't know if I will be able to sleep tonight though. Cocaine wears off pretty quickly compared to Adderall. (Duh.) The first line of cocaine is the best line of cocaine and the only one worth doing. I realized that a long time ago. But I have no self-control so I can't just do one line a day or whatever. I can't enjoy anything in moderation. Eating, drinking, smoking, drugs, sleep, sex, shopping, television, internet, video games. Compulsion. Everything is telling me to DO MORE. Until you run out of drugs or money or both. Or until your body gives out. Whichever.

Why can't I treat drugs like an expensive jar of caviar or a thread of saffron, where just a little goes a long way? I'm just not wired that way. My parents had addictive personalities too -- my dad was a gambler and my mom was an alcoholic. With genes like that, did I really have a chance? Nature or nurture debate, I guess. I fail at diets, at budgets, at doing homework, at being sober, at exercising, at making friends... anything good in life, I screw up. If I could put all of this energy into something positive, I'd be successful. If self-loathing and self-destruction paid a salary, I'd be the motherfucking 1%. I'd be Warren fucking Buffet, man. But no, I can't do anything positive.

I can't really do much at all, to be honest. I'm not functioning like an adult. I feel like I am so lost inside of myself and I cannot find a way out. The only way out so far is drugs. Sometimes I feel like drugs, as bad as they are for me, are the only things keeping me alive. I feel like I would have killed myself a long time ago if I didn't find drugs. Or if drugs didn't find me? I don't know, I used to admire the straight edge kids and never wanted to be that burned out drug addict. What went wrong? I guess I won't know till I go back to therapy or something, huh?

Oh well.

God, bullshitting with people is so much fun on stimulants. I'm not normally so talkative. Ever. I've been in classes where I've not said a single word the entire semester. "You're so quiet", "Oh, I didn't know you spoke", "Wow, she said something!" ... etc, etc, etc. 8) I have heard them all multiple times since the 6th grade. Give me a fucking break, okay? People would hate me if I said what was really on my mind all the time. "Politeness is the art of choosing among your thoughts." - Madame de Stael

I live by the whole "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" doctrine as well as the whole "It is better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt" idea. Is that really so wrong? Who is worse -- the person in the back who doesn't speak unless it's important or the person in the front who won't ever just shut the fuck up and always has a stupid question or comment which completely derails the Professor and the rest of the class for 20 minutes?

I think people are just threatened by silence. They have to fill it with something. Music, television, mindless chatter. I love music, don't get me wrong, but I mean like elevator Muzak. Why can't you just enjoy the ride in peace and quiet? It's usually no more than a minute or two. Reflect. Be calm. Chill the fuck out for a second. Gather your thoughts. Stop and smell the fucking roses. Read the graffiti. Make your own graffiti. Press all the buttons and stop on every floor. Press the emergency button and get yourself stuck in the elevator. Anything. Jesus.

Just give me a book to read or a notebook to write in and I'll entertain myself. It's weird because I have an anxiety disorder so I'm usually chattering and worrying about stupid shit non-stop inside of my own head so when I get a rare moment of calm and quiet in public, I tend to enjoy it. *Sigh* I used to skip school by myself and go to the Mid-Manhattan library, take out a few books and just ride the subway back and forth, wherever it would take me. From the Bronx to Coney Island to Queens to the Far Rockaways. I'd have my CD player with a mix-CD I burned (crikey, I am old) and listen to that until the batteries died and read my books instead of going to school. If only there was a class -- Reading on the Subway for Hours 101. I could teach that fucking class. Imagine if the Kindle and iPod existed at that point in time!

I'm always torn between isolating myself in public and how much people do that, especially on the subway. Perfect strangers sitting in close proximity physically but mentally further from each other than you could imagine. Who engages strangers in conversations anyway? Eye contact is a sin on the subway! Stare at your iPod, your Kindle, your feet, the ads by the ceiling, but never the person sitting across from you. God forbid. My parents actually met on the freaking subway. The story is something like my dad started talking to my mom on the D train and they ended up actually riding to the same train stop which was a pretty big coincidence because they both took the same train every day and never ran into each other before. Sometimes I like it when strangers start conversations with me, but I'm always too scared to start conversations with other people. Unless it's in a store or whatever, where you're kind of obligated to exchange niceties with the cashier or whatever. I'm just a hypocrite I suppose. I do all the shit I'm complaining about, but that's what society has turned into. At least in New York City. I guess when there are 8 million people living in such a tiny area, the mass of humanity gets overwhelming. Sometimes I just want to move to a small town where everyone knows everyone else and the only new people who come in are the babies who are born there.

Growing up in New York City is difficult. People say we're rude but I think we're just overstimulated. Kind of like I am now. Could you imagine saying hello to every person you passed in Times Square or whatever? It would be impossible. I know the Naked Cowboy can do it, but it's too cold to be outside in just your undies! Hahaha.

Ahhh! I lost internet for like two hours today! Noo!! I was totally watching Netflix too! I had to resort to reading a book! Tho, I do like reading books. This year, I am going to be a Maid of honor (confirmed), and most likely a bridesmaid in two separate weddings/different groups of friends totally! (unconfirmed, but very likely, could even be maid of honor at one of these too). Also, the unconfirmed one I might be MOH at, she's pregnant, and I'm most likely going to be asked to be the Godmom.. well I'm hoping! That'd be sweet. In other words, I got some good reading in on my "Bridesmaid's Guerrilla Handbook", my brother so clutchily bought me for Chanukah (I think I made clutchily up, but you know what I mean!).

Now that that rant is over.. my bratty dog hasn't left my lap aaallll day. The brat. I absolutely her. (See my post in http://www.bluelight.ru/vb/threads...d-with-added-ooomph!?p=10261104#post10261104 this post, and vote for her as cutest pet ever! Because she is!).

My dad went out to meet someone he met online, a "date". Good for him, he's 60 and is lonely. But that means I'm home alone and need food! I want to order Ping Pong, but not home alone.. waiting for my friend to call and come over so we can order. He hasn't been very reliable lately, (I HATE THAT). Like last night he said he was coming over at nine. By 930, nothing, no call, no text, no arrival, so I called him, texted him.. NOTHING. I absolutely HATE that. I didn't hear from him until this morning. He said "oh I went to get a new phone" Yea? Fucking TELL ME! Don't make plans and then ace me. And he's consistently late, I hate that too. If you're always late, account for that! Anyway, if I don't hear from him by 7, I'm ordering delivery all by myself! I'm gonna snuggle on the couch, crank up the heat, put the dog on my lap, eat my ping pong, and watch bootleg episodes of burn notice from whatever website I can find them on! It's like the what 7th season airing right now and Netflix only has 4 seasons? Talk about being 3 years behind! So aggravating!

Well, I've said my piece, who wants to join me eating some Pekin Raviolis??? My fav!

-V%)

A continuation...

Let us call that kid, "Pete," Pete was an upper middle class kid living in New Jersey, about an hour and a half south of Manhattan. I took a ball of that Afghan hash and maybe 50 pieces of Rosicrucian Blotter. The party was huge but Pete wasn't much in the partying way. His best friend, some say his lover, had been killed by a hit and run driver while driving through the Pine Barrens, a massive pine forest covering many thousands of hectares in Southern New Jersey. The burial had just been the previous day. Yet, Pete SEEMED as if he was handling it OK.

I broke out the hash, these surburban kids were nuts. To them, hash was something you hear about, but rarely, if ever, see, and IF you DO see it, it is that awful blonde or green shit that seems to make its way only to America. People at that time bought into all kinds of myths, like "Opiated Hash" for example. Hash producers would never put opium in or on their product because hash is much more expencive in such places, it would be like a cannabis seller mixing tobacco in with his bud, it would cut the price. Naturally, good hash is a cream inside, hard but pliable on the outside, and because of oxidation, that pliable outside turns black. With a creamy tan to red inside and black gummy outside it is easy for naïve people to imagine that in places where hash costs at least two times more than opium, a manufacturer would cut his own product.

So we smoked a few bowls, and without exception, noone could pull three times, they were floored. Around 1AM the party began thinning out, and now, it was all guys. I whipped out the Blotter and tore off pieces to anybody who asked. Pete asked for two pieces. Now, two pieces isn't a lot of LSD, maybe 200 microgrammes, IF it was even THAT much. We were having a grand time but then Pete insisted on riding his bicycle to the hiway ro buy cigarettes. His slightly younger brother, let us call him Phil, was adamently against the idea but in the end, he let Pete go with two other guys, all on bicycles.

The sun was breaking on the horizon, four hours later, and we were all getting worried because the three of them hadn't returned. Just as we were about to leave and search, the two guys that had gone with Pete returned and were clearly alarmed. When they had calmed down enough to explain what had happened they told us that Pete had suddenly veered off and rode across the hiway. By the time they could make their way to the other side of a six lane hiway Pete was gone, he had vanished.

Now we were all bugging the fuck out, especially me, the asshole who had handed out LSD like it was fucken Skittles. When you trip on LSD you can easily get super paranoid that everyone is loking at you, but in this case a few WERE and it wasn't a friendly look. Finally, just before 7AM, we decided to all go to the hiway and search. Opening the front door of the house I jumped back, Pete was standing a milimeter from the door, staring like a fucken zombie, and his shiny bike was tied, I swear, into a pretzel shape. WHOA. So now I'm truly paranoid, skirting a bad trip but Pete is far, far worse. He stares only at me. "Raki, bless you, I am the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost." He said it in an eerie, emotionless monotone with those wide, pie shaped zombie eyes.

I looked to his brother Phil, Phil was laughing, maybe relieved that his brother was physically fine, or perhaps it was simply the acid doing the "feeling." When Pete kept on with the Jesus shtick though, Phil sobered up pretty fast, "Shit, my mom'll be home in 3 fucken hours and Pete is Mother fucken Theresa!" My first thought, I'm ashamed to say, was to rush back to Brooklyn, grab my passport and hop my skanky ass aboard the first plane to Israel. I pictured their mum, a nurse, coming home, pressuring them for details, and them telling how I passed out dozens of hits of LSD. New Jersey, to New Yorkers, is West Bubble Fuck. In the city possesion of heroin is a misdemeanour, in Jersey? 4 years in prison. Still, I dindnt leave until Phil pushed the last of us out the front door in a paniced state.

Three years later I pull into a strip mall in that same town, to use the loo. I park my father's car, walk towards a donut store, and who do I see? Pete! I swear, this is what he said, smiling slightly, "Raki, I bless you, only through me can you get to heaven." WHOA. I forgot about the pee and got the fuck out of there and in fact I turned right around and returned to the city.

Some of my mates in Israel told me he was probably pulling my chain but I wasn't convinced. Now, after finishing my almost 7 years of Active Duty in the army, I came to the US to make my fortune. I ended up in the drug game, all things that I will eventually discuss in my Blog, but the point being, in this entry, I caught a bullshit arrest in that same New Jersey County as the police there were aiming for my uncle, and I got caught up in the sweep. I'm in that Country Jail for 7 months before getting shipped to a state prison. One day, a new inmate walks into the cell (cells being giant cages with almost 100 men). Who should it be but Pete. I was nervous of course but convinced myself that my mates' advice had been correct, that Pete wasn't really nuts. He sees me and right away its the Jesus spiel!!! WHOA. I'm trying to reason with him but finally I said fuck it and grabbed his Charge Sheet.

That trip had sent him into a Psychotic Break and when he finally finished spiralling they diagnosed him as a Paranoid Schizophrenic. He had been placed in a flat with other mentally ill adults but one day, obeying those voices that only Pete could hear, he grabbed a steak knofe and stabbed a roomate seven times, thinking he was an emissary of Satan.

Of course I had given acid away freely but in my own defence, in those days there was no internet, Harm Reduction was merely a glimmer in a couple of forward thinking peoples' eyes. We only knew what other users told us and if you read Drug Forums, even today 90% of users who even bother to search, are still stumbling around blindly. Now that I'm in Middle Age I think often of Phil and wonder if perhaps, I hadn't been so glib that evening, he too would have grandchildren and a life of accomplishments. The rational thinker in me knows, or rather "believes," that acid only magnifies extant conditions but in truth that is only a theory. I still respect LSD, but feel that only adults, mentally as well as physically, should ever consider using it.

As noted in an earlier entry, one of several girls I have been considering, found that Jackie had created a page on a social networking site. On the page were photos of her and an elderly white man who, and I am honestly trying to be objective, looks like he has been sucking on the glass dick for a good decade straight. There ARE other causes of "facial wasting," certain HIV medications, even cancer comes to mind, but- all things considered- in all probability, a man with advanced HIV/AIDs and/or cancer wouldn't be thinking of banging young Filipinas, or would he? I can't say.

That in itself was a bit suprising but what truly floored me was the fact that in her photos Jackie mentioned being pregnant, and that she was going to give birth to her CHUD in April. Now, math isn't my strong point mind you, but counting backwards for the better part of the afternoon I surmised that Jackie had to have knocked boots with Elder Tweaker in July. Having roughly an iota of sexual experience myself, I felt it reasonable to assume that Rip Van Crackhead had more than likely been humping Jackie for some time before July. It is true that it only takes a single copulation to impregnate, but, usually it takes a couple months before getting it right.

In fairness however, I assumed that they first played hide the salami in July. Now, my two regular readers (Hi Mom!) will recall that in July of 2011 I was still in power down mode from Jackie and her bag of mind fuck tricks. I had long since told her to get a life but she had persisted in swearing her undying, earth shattering love for me. "I would die before ever even looking at any other man!" Cough. Whatever. That was the same month that, after I had paid the rent on the house in Metro Manila's Quezon City, she took the money, bought her friend Kris a ferry ticket home to Mindanao and then blew the rest on clothes. Then, not telling me, told the owner of the house that she was pulling out of the lease.

I only found about this from Kris herself. Kris called me, desperate, because Jackie had disappeared, the girl is at the very least, quite consistent. A week later, still in July, Jackie sent me an IM. According to her, she didn't want to be a burden to me since I didn't love her. She had taken a job as a live in maid for a rich Tsinoy (Filipino of Chinese descent) family. Waking at 430AM seven days a week, her day consisted of hand washing clothes until almost 9PM every night, all for the lovely sum of US124 a month. Since I was kicking up twice that monthly for her rent and personal needs I was, to put it lightly, dumb founded.

She told me how she shared a room in the family's compound with one of the other maids, a girl named Amanda. She told me how the family uncle, an elderly man- hmmm, a pattern developing- was wooing her with offers of extravagant gifts, a motorbike, a trip to Hong Kong and Macau, whatever. I advised her to try and return to Mindanao and at least reconcile with her parents if not her husband and kids. "No! I gave them all up for you Raki! I can never gi back now and even if I could, I never would! I acted for our true love and I don't regret a single thing!"

Well, she eventually told me that she left the maid position and had moved in with Kris' cousins in Quezon City. There, because she had no income, she cooked and cleaned for the cousin's family, but lived as a friend, not a servant. Again, I advised her to eat crow and return home. No, she was adamant.

In September she begged me to "love" her as I once did, swearing her undying love and how she would die alone if she couldn't have me. She begged for recent photos of me. Stupidly I complied, and even more stupidly,sent it from my sidekick which has an account incorporating Joysa's name on it. I rarely use my Sidekick these days, and so it had escaped my mind that those photos would arrive with Joysa's name in the data chain. The photos wafted through cyberspace for a few seconds and then landed in the cyber cafe where Jackie was sitting...and then a shitstorm followed:

Jackie: Who the hell is 'Joysa'?

Rachamim: (kicking himself in the head) Joysa? Don't be silly Jackie, that is your Hebrew name. Jackie equals Joysa. You know that! I have only told you at least a dozen times (so much for my policy on 100% honesty).

J: You told me Hebrew doesn't even have the letter "J" in it! How could you lie!?

R: This of course would be Jackie, the girl with an extra baby and a husband I never knew about, yes? I'm telling you, it's your name.

J: After all I sacrificed for our love! You are like every other man!

R: I rather doubt that Jackie, considering how 99.9 % of men would have spat in your face after discovering your "secret" baby, but whatever. Look, I told you when you took that job as a maid and disappeared for a week that I will never be more than your friend. I'm truly sorry if I have hurt you with this but you and I are NOT a couple. I don't really know if we ever were, but either way, the past is the past.

So, while Jackie was claiming to be devastated by Joysa, she was ready in her second trimester hahaha! After the chat on IM, Jackie found out info about Joysa on that same social networking site and began cyber-stalking. Naturally, learning she was pregnant at this time was shocking to me. She began leaving notes on Joysa's page. I left notes in reply. Jackie kept saying how I lied about Joysa. I replied, "Giving birth in April, got pregnant in July, found about Joysa in September. Do the math."

I later found out that when she was supposedly a "maid" she was actually living back in Cagayan del Oro, on the military base in her parent's home. In other words, basically, everything aside from her having abandoned her poor husband and three young children has been a major lie. The only time I can lie is if it is ti avoid crushing someone emotionally, like the whole "Joysa is Hebrew for Jackie" spiel. I simply cannot manufacture stories. I wish I could say that the whole Jackie drama has taught me a lesson, even a less than valuable one. Alas, it hasn't done anything for me apart from wasting my time.

I'm not done, but just taking a break. I gave too much. Now I'll relax for a little while.... and hopefully things will return to how they were. If I pass this by completely, I may never find it again, or anything like it. But now I have to pass this by a little bit, but not give up hope on it.

I'm not sure, I just want.... assurance, or something like that

would any members like to ask me any questions about myself. or if they wanted me to answer questions about themselves. just log in to my profile thanks.

It's been 8 years since I've done cocaine. I guess I have to reset the clock tonight, because I had my first couple lines in 8 years... I was heavy into cocaine when I was 16-17, then I stopped and now I'm 25 and love opiates and benzos... I guess when you get older, you mellow out? Who knows.

My friend got this great fucking deal and was willing to share so I was like "Sure!" -- and the rest, my friends who are just strangers staring at a screen, is all history. :D

I was supposed to be getting some fucking oxy and here I am on coke and xanax, like high school... Weird... Not as wonderful as I remember. It's primo coke and it's awesome, don't get me wrong. But it's also compulsive as all hell. I'd take oxycodone over cocaine any day of the week nowadays... I don't miss the comedown at all though, and I'm wondering how that's gonna be... At least I have some more Xanax and Clonazepam.

I have a few notebooks I filled up with cocaine rants... craziness, really... if it wasn't nearly 2am on a Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I'd probably go fish them out of the closet and fucking laugh at myself.

I'm texting a bunch of people because I'm bored as hell and want to shoot the shit with people, but no one is awake <--- I am pathetic, but it's okay, because I have coooooocaaaaaine. :D

Here's a song I fucking love to death:

AGAINST ME! -- How Low
Now I wake up around 4 or 5.
Eat, shower, and get dressed in about an hour's time.
Take my vitamins, check my messages, and call around to some friends,
make plans for dinner and drinks sometime after 9.
Oh we're definitely going to call it in early tonight.
I need to dry out and take some time to clear my mind.
But before you know it here I am again, fucking 2 o'clock in the morning,
standing in a bar, with a drink in hand.

How low can you go before you can't turn around?

Now seriously, this is my last and final time.
Well I'm making some big, big changes in my life.
No, you won't catch me down here again, waiting to score sweaty money palmed in my hand.
What are you cutting this with anyway?
'Cause I have got some really big plans.
And today's the day I'm putting them into action.
But before you know it, here I am again, fucking 6 o'clock in the morning.
Rolled up dollar bill in my hand.

How low can you go before you can't turn around?

I'm sick of feeling like I'm losing my mind.
Sick of doing the same things most nights after night.
Sick of self-loathing and self-absorbtion,
self-destructive narcissism.
I'm sick to death of being constantly fucking sick of.

I don't know who I can trust.
Thought there was us, but no, there is no one.

Everything's not right since I came back to Poland. Then I realized it had been a bad decision to book a plane ticket so imprudently and hastily. The right thing to do was rent a small flat just for myself, I still had 800£, it would do for a deposit and 1 month in advance. Then I would have my own address to use in a bank, in a job centre, and in jobs agencies. One-week worth of working would get me back in the game...

But I'm here back in Poland. I tapered down to 16mg of methadone a day in London. Really! I don't know why it's impossible to do so in Poland. I guess life is a lot less stressful in England because people are more friendly and they don't treat you as if you were a freak when you talk to them on a street etc. I kept taking my regular clonazepam dose of 6mg but at least I didn't take more. Here I managed to increase my regular methadone dose up to 40mg already (not to mention I didn't even think of shooting up in London, good weed and hash kept my thoughts away from it and kept me stabilized at 16mg) and my morning 6mg dose of clonazepam isn't enough to hold me for the whole day so what I take totally per one day is like 10-12mg + some phenazepam. Besides I can't sleep so I take dexbrompheniramine regularly. This makes me look like I was nodding, makes me look like a junkie after a shot.

Now to leave Poland for London I need to finish my driving licence and make some course for warehouse jobs being more available. Otherwise it will be as hard finding job as it was earlier. But these higher doses of medications make me learn much slower, well they make me totally unusable because I walk sleepy and I don't feel like doing anything. At the same time lower doses meant terrible anxiety, chills, sweats, and loose stools. So it's like fucking vicious circle! Well, as long as intravenously it's hetercodeine and levorphanol, it's not dangerous because I don't do them in long binges. The real danger is actually morphine.

So close to a life chance, so close to losing grip totally. I got used to the fact that I have to be by myself, I don't feel all right about it but it's just this way that I can't find a girl that would want a serious relationship. And I became tired of mostly physical relationships long time ago (maybe it's good for 16-year old teens who've just discovered sex).

And I'm falling asleep now as I'm writing this after taking 3mg of dexbrompheniramine making methadone much stronger...

Wow, I slept til noon. Which isn't surprising for me, but lately I've been waking around 930/10 and 11 at the latest.. Today, I could have slept until 1 if I allowed myself to! But just because I didn't want to feel like a complete bum I woke up. Plus, after being in bed all night, after a while, my body starts to hurt from lying down for so long. I get back pain and need to move to the couch, I just can't stay in my bed any longer.. It sucks

I didn't do much of anything today. Had a much needed bum day! Took the dog out around 1230, then layer on the couch literally all day, well, except for taking the dog out three other times during the day.

Bum days are absolutely necessary for me to, well, regain my energy and strength. So tomorrow, I'm having another one

I finally decided to come out of the shadows. I have been a secret addict and tried to hide it from everyone including myself. I enjoy reading about everyone else's using and stories. I came here after a Google search o how to increase the effects of pain pills. I guess I am what I have always loathed, a pill head. I have been using for a while and have fucked up a few peoples life. I have lost a lot of personal relationships and have always made some story in my head to place the blame on the other person, never me. I guess I had to rationalize it to myself some how. I don't remember when this started, but it had to be before 21. I was in prison for a non drug related non violent reason (thinking back, it had everything to do with drugs and I did not even know it myself until recently) its the only time I have ever been in trouble with the law (or caught by them I should say) and I was locked away for four years. I am now 32 and have two boys. I have lost my mother (she died two years ago) and my life has gone crazy out of control since then. I feel guilty now because I know she sees a side of me now that while she was living she never did. I know also that I got my addictive personality from both my mom and my alcoholic father. I ruined some great relationships. my little sister is an addict too, but as I have done, she has hid it and admitted to no one (including herself) she is an addict. I see it because its what I am doing. My family will never believe this of her and she uses me to blame stuff on so my "family" are fast to blame me and believe her lies over mine. I guess its good that I am a chicken shit. It has kept me from using more than I do. In fear of over dosing. I have not shot up (thought about it) because of fear of infection and getting things in my vein that shouldn't be. so instead, I have faked illness to go to e.r and get an IV so they shoot it for me. I must be good because they believe me most of the time and admit me with a huge dose of meds every three hours in the IV usually for three to five days and then discharge me with a large prescription. I don't even know if I want to stop as I enjoy it too much. It eases the mental pain. I guess I am using this blog to get my own thoughts in order. My mother always said I should write a book about my life, and maybe I will. This is more therapeutic than I thought it would be. Ok, I will try and keep up with this on a daily basis, but this is enough for today and I have to go and take my meds.