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"Been Caught Stealing"

I've been caught stealing;
once when I was 5...
I enjoy stealing.
It's just as simple as that.
Well, it's just a simple fact.
When I want something,
I don't want to pay for it.

I walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey all right! If I get by, it's mine.
Mine all mine!

My girl, she's one too.
She'll go and get her a skirt.
Stick it under her shirt.
She grabbed a razor for me.
And she did it just like that.
When she wants something,
She don't want to pay for it.

She walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey all right! If I get by, it's mine.
Mine all mine!

We sat around the pile.
We sat and laughed.
We sat and laughed and
Waved it into the air!
And we did it just like that.
When we want something,
We don't want to pay for it.

We walk right through the door.
Walk right through the door.
Hey, all right! If I get by, it's mine,
Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine...

Just sniffed up half a naltrexone which was stupid and did nothing and I knew it would do nothing but I needed to cut and snort something because I'm trapped in my house with no drugs to abuse and going out of my mind. Wow, awesome. I have no money, car's broke, and I'm sniffing fucking naltrexone. 8)

Now I have a headache.

dear me,

i hate you sometimes. it is not easy to pinpoint one reason. i hate your negative thoughts, i hate your maladaptive coping methods, your ability to over analyze things and your desire to sabotage me when i am trying to change you.

i hate how when i want to be normal and productive, you simultaneously want me to fail. you have a low self wort/self image and take stupid risks due to your apathy. and you constantly try to convince me i am not good enough. you make me feel like the person in this hyperbole and half blog/comic. except that nothing good has come from all of this.

i want to go out with people and socialize. instead you fixate on mundane things and make me feel self conscious. like how i tried to make a joke. no one got it and you seized upon that and analyze every detail of what went wrong. to shut you up, i drink (or use drugs if i have any around). it eventually shuts you up, but generally leads to other issues. running around wasted or whacked out on g actually does make people not want to hang out with you.

this leads me to us and sleep. i like sleep, i like waking up refreshed. but you like nightmares. you like angry dreams. you like waking me up in the middle of the night with my heart racing, momentarily confused about where i am/what happened. using substances to shut you up exasperates these issues.

you can be exhausting to deal with. your constant desire to hurt yourself gets you know where. you start off wanting to hurt yourself out of anger towards yourself. then you get frustrated that you are acting like an emo tween. and then in some bizarro logic, you decide that it is actually a good idea to cause injury to yourself. all of these thoughts are playing in the background while i try to go about my day to day life. it is very tiring trying to turn you out.

your incredibly active while i try to sleep, dredging up old memories and mixing them all your fears to create horrid nightmares.

What brought me to these very forums (the irony of this will no doubt present itself later) was a thorough understanding of and a decent access to the Philadelphian drug culture and the thrills it inextricably entails.

Mirages are false but, in those recurring moments of humanity when extenuating circumstances force one onto the fulcrum balancing sanity and madness, one is particularly apt to welcome illusions with open arms. If the images are soothing, that is.

This is precisely what Bluelight was to me, then, from the beginning: a venue to explore and solidify my role in that which I mistook to be a culture of mirages. My subsequent struggle with drug abuse and addiction left me with steadfast illusions - many of which I still cherish, despite the taint that addiction forever imposes upon them. But mirages, illusions, chateaus of happiness built on wet sand, were never enough to sustain me. My hungers for excitement and for novelty were never satiated. I was... and am... both intelligent and insufferably bored.
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A number of rather drastic changes to life's comforting paradigm have arisen within the past year of my life. Not in the least, I have eased myself into the most exquisite and enduring romantic relationship of my life. We live together, breathe together, love together. In every way we allow ourselves to be bonded to one another. This fascinatingly new level of commitment, long as it may have taken to manifest itself, has forever changed my life. Former illusions have been stripped down and decidedly replaced with realism. I have never been one to welcome change less it come slowly, and meeting the demands of a dually enthralling and domestic relationship has me reevaluating my future. What my life means, especially to me, has undergone a rapid metamorphosis that only Kafka himself could contrive.

Which means that I have subjected myself forcibly to accepting these changes.

And so that which brings me back to Bluelight today has little to do with the willful acceptance of mirages, whose intrusions on my current life I repel as umbrellas do raindrops from black clouds. I finally feel a burning desire to be exempt from all of life's falsities. Drugs do not keep me coming back here; the community does. And I have begun to accept that I am in urgent need of its help. Aside from my lover, and those friends whose presence in my life has reliably diminished over the past decade, I feel interminably alone. With my thoughts, my second-guessings. Loneliness is the beetle that bores through the Tree of Life's trunk, ultimately killing it.

Thus, I am forced to ask myself several questions: Do I feel my resolve is 'dying'? Can I, with my newfound obligations, afford to let it 'die'? After spending many months contemplating such questions, my only conclusion is that to avoid a spiritual death I must violently grasp the reigns of my life and determine, without hesitation, just who it is that I am without the endeavor becoming a tragic solipsism.

My persistence has been met with lukewarm satisfaction - if any to speak of. At times I feel like the mythological figure Tantalus. I reach for my food and it moves farther from me. I reach for a drink of water and the water itself recedes into dry, brittle earth.


I worry that the struggle is tearing me apart. And I am absolutely terrified that I am alone in my plight.

~ vaya

Hot naked chick fucked in bed by lez domme Hot naked chick fucked in bed by lez domme, Mindy gets horny playing dress up in lingerie and ends up masturbating Mindy gets horny playing dress up in lingerie and ends up masturbating, Hot Smoking Fuck Slut Hot Smoking Fuck Slut

What are my desires ?

what impulse do i have ?

what repercussions are left ?

what has brought the most peace ?

what has been the most destructive - what actions were taken to resolve it: the results were: the common result was?

the common action caused by the above mentioned result is common in other ways - what are the common results in varying contexts?

what is my role ?

what do I accept as my part of this role ?

my current place now as a result??
back to the top if at conclusion it does not feel honest, or, positive one-way-or-another.

Removing Blog as my blog upset the blog gods.

I've got another long blog entry brewing but I don't think I have the energy quite yet...

Feeling slightly fragile after the weekend. God bless Debbie, she made it such a fun weekend, was so glad to hang out with her.

Anyway. I'm all disjointed and exhausted... thankfully the post-billy nonsense has dribbled out without much ado. One of the great things about my blood pressure medication is it stops the physical symptoms of panic attacks. Which billy always brought out in me.

Everything has it's upside I guess...

Chest pains. I don't know why. Is it just tender due to wayward hormones? Is it the co dydramol? My left hand hurts. Every time I go to the doctor for a bp check up they tell me I am ok. Then my diastolic shoots up. Fuck it. It's probably just stress and worry. I guess rather than stressing on the negative aspects I should try and help myself. Yoga. Reiki. Exercise. Weight loss. No booze. No powder. I can do it. And it doesn't matter what anyone thinks. I can't poison my body and mind anymore. I can elevate without it. Wish I couls stop rambling on. It's exhaustion. I am so fucking tired and I want to be free of all this negative shit... I just want music and poetry and sunrise and beaches... I want to see the beauty in life again.

Today hasn't been too bad a day. I spent the morning and most of the afternoon with my baby niece. She's amazing. I sat with her and we through bits of duplo at each other. Then I gave her some lunch and she gurgled nonsense at me. After lunch we made noises with things and I played her some guitar. I think she's going to be musical, she loved the sound of the guitar.

My back is still really bad. It's only a few steps up from what it was like when it first fucked up, I guess I should be thankful I can actually still move about fairly easily. When my back went completely I was absolutely terrified because any kind of movement caused vast amounts of pain.

I'm convinced that I need to be prescribed the valium again for my back. It's only 2g and it's an anti-spasmodic which stops it tensing up and twitching when I'm lying down which stops me from sleeping. I'm a bit gutted that Dr Struthers has left the practice as Dr Arbuckle seems a bit more traditional and I'm convinced she thinks I'm using the valium recreationally... that's not quite true, I am using it for my back, but I can't lie... the good night's sleep it gives me is wonderful. I need to call in for my repeat medication so I might see if she'll give me a fortnight's dosage to see if it helps. I had diclofenac for my back but it doesn't mix with the medication I take for my blood pressure so I've had to stop it. I'll just have to stick with ibuprofen for now. I've got some co-dydramol for night times and if I get some soluble co-codamol I can take that on week nights as it doesn't give me such a hangover the day after.

I genuinely just want a good night's sleep. At the moment I lie awake for hours... last night was terrible but I was thankful for once to be watching the TV. Dad suggested to Mum that they buy me a small tv for my Christmas. I think I'm happy with that. It will have freeview and a dvd player. I know I've looked down my nose at television for years but I am so introverted that I think I almost need a shallow escape from reality sometimes. I certainly did last night. Even if it was just watching trashy american shows.

It's my work's halloween do tomorrow night and I'm meant to be going to it. If my back carries on like this it's going to be an effort... but I guess I can leave at 11pm with Sarah if I can't handle it. I've got a pair of white fake Converse that I can put in my bag if the heels get too much.

I'm going as "Messed Up Minnie" which is basically Minnie Mouse but as a serial killer. I've got a 50's style red and white polka dot dress, net skirts to go under, Minnie Mouse ears, black patent leather heels... and Mum is going to take me to get white gloves and fake blood tomorrow. It's not the most elaborate costume but I think I'll be able to deal with it. I'm not really the costume party type. She's giving me some cash which is a relief as the meter's nearly out... I won't be drinking or anything. I'm really not feeling up to it at the moment. I've got a couple of canvases that are only half-finished. If I save as much of the £25 as I can tomorrow night then I can use the surplus to buy some food for the weekend (I have nothing in the cupboards, I have been off my food a bit due to the syndrome x issue) and in order to finish the two paintings I need some string and some copydex.

I've three paintings in the flat just now which I think are meant to be part of a trio. The first one is an 80's style angular painting, the second is kind of like a question mark and the third one looks a bit like one of the old fashioned aboriginal style hearts I used to do.

Know what's sad actually? The third one is another installation of the set I did for Cub when I was still in his life. I'm guessing he won't have them anymore seeing as he's all loved up with someone these days... I kind of wish I'd had a chance to get them back because it would have been nice to see the progression as the ones I did for him were done... god... years ago. Five years ago? Not sure. I guess I probably wouldn't have been able to keep them around. I'm surprised I've been able to mention his nickname in this blog entry... in previous I've had to change the subject. As I'm going to do now because I can feel the old familiar sting in my chest. It's a good thing he doesn't come on here anymore as he would probably recognise me from my screen name and I'd be mortified if he saw this and knew how much I was struggling with life when things have turned out so well for him. I don't know. Maybe it's karma... somewhere deep down I know that I deserve to be without him... although not for the reasons he thinks. I was just a shit person when I knew him. I never meant to be. He was my world though, and I loved him down to his bones. Ach, my heart's still blind since the day I first saw his face and that will never change. As I've said in previous posts I'm fine on my own. I was only ever in love twice and I don't think I could ever go through the pain of loving and losing someone again. It's too hard.

I'm thinking about knitting Colm and Pat a scarf each for Christmas. Pat likes Rupert the Bear and Colm hates him (thinks he's a cunt) so thought I would knit them both an old fashioned Rupert scarf for a laugh.

I really hope that Pat finds himself a nice girlfriend that will go travelling with him and that will indulge him and look after him. He reminds me of myself when I was 25... except he's that bit wiser... and a lot less spoiled than I was. I'm really glad he's a friend. One of the few that can get past my obnoxious outer shell and who knows how to talk to me. I hope nobody ever breaks his spirit because he's just decent.

I am worried about Colm though. he and Eilidh are having so many problems it's unreal and I think it's going to end in tears. Colm is probably the one person apart from Debbie that I can tell anything to and I'm worried that something bad might happen. I think I will be ok mentioning this here because it's all first names and stuff... but he called me about a year or so ago in tears at 4am because he'd self harmed. You've got to understand that Colm is a sturdy wee Belfast boy and he's been through worse shit than anything that's happened lately... although the Meniere's diagnosis didn't help things. Ever since then i get really worried that something will tip him over the edge again. I went down to see him the day after as he didn't want me to come down after he called and I was the one that cleaned up the blood and the mess. Thankfully it was ok and he didn't scar... and he's never done it again. He says he felt like an arsehole after he did it. Colm can be a bit evasive and rubbish at responding to texts sometimes but I honestly think I'd crack up if anything happened to him. When he got diagnosed with Meniere's I found him lying on his couch where he'd been for three days crying his eyes out and my heart just about cracked. I wish Eilidh could see what she's doing... and I wish she would get some help because she really needs it. She lost her Dad and she's never got over it. I know we've all got skeletons but it's affecting her and Colm's lives when they both need to move on and be happy.

I'm so stupid pouring my heart out on the internet... who the fuck am I anyway? I don't know. Nobody really listens when I scream anyway so it's better to do it somewhere that nobody knows me. My problem is that I've always been so dramatic that people just got sick of my shit and couldn't offer me support. I've alienated so much potential happiness from my life.

But as I keep saying. I'm gonna stick my chin out and I'm going to find a way to get by and be happy. I know there will never be another love affair and I'll never be the dreadlocked bohemian spirit that I've always envied and been intimidated by... but I'll always be me. I'm just a bit of everything and that's all right. All I can do is admit my mistakes, accept life for what it is, and try to live my life with no regrets and having learnt from all the mistakes I've made so far.

It's crazy. In the midst of a mithering, teary moment, my heart as always is at breaking point... but I won't give up while there's souls that can be saved... underdogs that can be fought for... words collated on pictures... and while there's music to be heard.

"It's so easy to laugh, it's so easy to hate, it takes guts to be gentle and kind"...

People say that expressing yourself is a good way to deal with your demons, so why not give it a chance.

I have been done with my vacation at a certain downtown facility, where they give 3 hots and a cot, for a few days now, and still havent looked for the MAN with the master plan. Eventhough my body still aches, I just cannot chance it. As I ponder this last run, I think to myself, what if.

What if in 1995 my buddies and I didnt start to go to the parties to "hang out" and have a good time. I am from a part of DAYGO where we are known for getting fucked up. Maybe if I didnt go to them festivities, maybe I would have gone to college eventually. Or maybe if I didn't pursue the ultimate high for the years after.

I remember at one of the festivities, while drinking, or maybe we were just bored, I cant remember to long ago, we had a buddy who had some green and we smoked it. I fell in love with that sweet leaf and continued to use that bitch everyday for over 12 years. I had another buddy who scored some pills from his parents, that was pretty groovy too. I did pills anytime I could after that. I went to a bunch of hippy shit like drum circles and such and we found her big sister LSD and Mushrooms and Mescaline and whatever can make you trip balls.

The first time my buddy and I tried LSD was in LV. Found it off some hippy looking dudes from Iowa or some other bumb fuck (not trying to insult) state. The shit was so good, it must have been a 12 hour peak. Shit was moving constantly. Volcanoes blowing up looked so awesome, actually any of those trippy LV strip features that went off in 97 were a fucking trip. I had to find this high again, never did find that high grade of LSD though.

Went back home and got into the drug hippy culture big time, I took acid everywhere. At school, on the bus, going for a walk, shit even at church. LSD just made everything better, and I usually had a bud to take some with me. Shit was cheap back than too.

One time my buds and I wanted to go trip in the dessert. Couldnt find any LSD on the holiday weekend. But one bud said, "We can get Meth." I was already opassing out so I was like, "I'll do whatever, but I wont be awake for it." He said not to worry. He was fucking right.

We got spun out on route * between county lines right off the freeway in a tent. This was about mid 1997 or the fall, hard to remember. At first you just do some once in awhile. Than the days that you dont do it get shorter and the days that you are on it get more and more, if you know what I mean. About a few months after graduating in 1998, I was a flown blown tweaker.

Just a side note, i had a friend take me to TJ to try this drug he used to do up North. You can get clean rigs in TJ at any pharmacia. You can get whatever dope you want at any bar or shop in TJ. I tried it once and loved it. Just didnt have a dealer in the good ole US, yet.

I rob, I hustled, I kicked a lot of peoples asses (I'm kind of a big dude) and I hated myself big time. My family started to realize something was wrong, but they had other things going on. I come from a big family, with a lot of problems. But any who. It started to get that if you were going to my house to hang, you were getting lit. And the PARANOIA kicks in hard. Everyone is out to get you. Even thoughs fucking shadow fucks outside the fucking window. So after 2 solid years of destroying myself, at 160 lbs (6'2" big build) I was ready to quit. The family was ready for me to quit too, and made me gio to rehab when I wanted to go.

That was in 2001. I am free of my 2nd addiction. But I smoked pot everyday still in rehab. I was the only one not drug tested because I was the only one not court ordered in rehab. haha. Coke was always around too, but I never really did too much, cost topo much. But if it was there I'd do it too. But hey, Im off the fucking Meth at least doing it everyday. I still fucked with it once in awhile. But I never was like I was. I could say no if I wanted too. Really wierd.

In the beginning of 2001 I met her. The most beautiful woman ever. I wanted her, but it would take me the rest of the year to get her. She was a few years younger but I fucking wanted her and eventually got her. We went to this Halloween party that year, and that was when we hit off. She even could drink more beer than me. I was just out of rehab, but was eating normal again, so I wasn't too fucked up looking. The next few years were the happiest I have ever been. Shit ever since than, I have been lucky to have her.

I got my shit together, kind of. Got a great job in a growing industry that was booming in So Cal in the early 2000s. I made a shitload of money. Enough to buy a house, buy an ounce of dank a week, half ounce of coke a week. And still pay the fucking bills. After a few years of this, I met an old friend who said, do you still fuck with that
sheva. I said I only did it once.

You have got to try this shit, and we did. I took her with me to my downward spiral. We smoked a lot of that crap, and I couldnt pay my bills anymore. Also something happened in the good ole USA. Those loans we were making a shit load of money on, well guess what, Joe Shmoe who only makes 60k a year cannot actually afford a 1milliion dollar home. I'm out of the job too boot.

But I can still smoke my problems away and I got some money saved, kind of. Its called loans and credit. After a year of this $300 a day habit, we tried going back east to get off. That did not work too good. You know what they got H in other fucking cities and if you look hard enough. you can find that bitch on any street corner. This is where I found out about China White, and oh ya, rigs are legal. So my $300 a day habit went to $500 a day. (2 people at least) We tried the Methadone, but kept on chipping, just didnt spend so much money.

So in 2008, I lost everything I made, was in the middle of know where, just wanted to go back So Cal. And eventually get clean. We got money to get home, and home we went. I tried to stay
away form my buds, I lasted a whole 3 days, with methadones help. But this time, I have the needle and the shit is so good in Cali, eventhough its raw.

I found the exchange, and have the same old card I got that first day. They all know who I am, probably miss me the last few weeks. I got jobs but have to always take a long bathroom break sometime in the day. I kept getting better bshit from better dealers, and soon wasnt paying that much for the shit. My friends foundn out that I would not sale them short if they came to me, so soon I started to actually have money again. That was this last year.

Something happened though. Something bad happpend. I dont know still what it was, but I got a bad knock in the middle of the night and some people just let them selves in and trashed my place and than took all my fun supplies wioth them to a certain building downtown. I went with them too, but here's the shitties part. That girl I am still in love with form way back, she's my wife and they took her too.

They sent me thru hell, and I took it. Now her family says I can never see her again if I am dirty, so that is the only reason I am staying clean. I dont have my phone numbers, but I know where people live. I just cant though, because I need to see her. I need her so much it hurts. She is the only reason I am not using right now.

If you actualkly read this wow, thanks for reading it. Its just a quick outline of the last half of my life.

Hey I started smoking Meth about a little less then a month ago I was sober for about a year and half ish. At first when I relapsed it was ok. I didn't choke or anything or gag. But two three days later I started gagging every time I tried to hit. I feel like I can taste all the fumes and when I inhale all the smoke that I inhale seems to disappear. I know I'm inhaling a lot a smoke but when I blow out there is like no smoke. and I would gag like crazy. The thing about it is everyone else around me who smokes don't have a problem with it. They all smoke the same shit I do and they can't taste anything or they don't choke and they all say it really good shit so I don't think its cause the shit is bunk. and I don't smoke day after day after day. I smoke three four days sober back up for three days and smoke again for this past month. but when I try to hit I still gag. There was only one time with different shit that i didn't gag but everyone said it was bunk -_- but it wasn't for me. I was wondering if anyone had this problem or is it me?

I have many issues, but the one I want to discuss isa meth....how does one make meth?, I read about how a persin can make the shit in less then a hour, less then a damn hour....now I'm guessing that type of meth would be cheap shit and not work as well..I'm also guessing there is a number of d ifferent ways to make the shit, I would assume that ther right way takes longer then a hour,...see I use the pip my self anfd I'm getting sick and tired of getying crap, shit stamp to hell with msm, k, and what ever else you can find to help fuck up a great product....so can fill me in on ways of getting around tjis issue im having.....happy piping

Several days ago, I climbed up a steep mountainside, zig-zagging under basalt cliffs. Near the top, I passed through a notch in a vertical rock wall. It was as though I stepped through a portal into another world. As I passed through, the landscape leveled itself, and I entered the mountain's sprawling, beach-like caldera, the ground covered in sandy gray ash. A still lake reflected the setting moon in a darkening blue sky. The summit loomed a tantalizing 500 or so vertical feet higher. Looking back through the cleft in the rocks, the shadow of the mountain stretched east, as hilly woodland dwindled to copses which gave way to grassland extending to the horizon. The wind carried the smell of distance.

Nearby, I spotted a place in the sand that was clear of stones. This would be a good spot to camp. I ate a quick meal of my now hated powdered eggs and a Cliff bar (I saw no signs of fish in the lake so I didn't bother trying to catch any.), set up my bed roll, took off my boots, tucked myself in, and quickly fell into a deep sleep.

I jolted awake after returning from a lightning fast out-of-body ride over the mountain range. In what must have been only a few seconds, I had sped dozens of miles (after hiking several hundred miles this summer, I have become good at judging distance based on sight) along ridges, down stream beds that flowed into ravines which emptied into valleys, back up the mountains again through sublime passes and over craggy peaks, all under a fantastic starscape.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Diamond nails punched through an obsidian sky. The caldera lake mirrored billions of stars. Viewing a dark sky from a remote location far from city lights is great even at low elevations, but in the clear air above 10000 feet, it is spectacular. The stars were surprisingly bright. And for a few glimmering moments, a fine glowing net of silver filaments still connected many of the star groups, just as it had done on the Astral Plane. Many of the filaments pulsated longitudinally like a kind of standing wave pattern, and they seemed to relay sparkles of light nearly instantaneously from one star to another. I had the impression that I was viewing a Living and Intelligent Network. Gradually it faded.

I unzipped my sleeping bag half way, sat up, unfolded a star chart, and turned on a red LED flashlight. This chart, from a series I had printed before leaving Portland, details all of the major constellations and names all stars brighter than something like a 3 magnitude. (The lines outlining the constellations did not necessarily follow the threading of the fibers of the silver net. There were far too many threads to try to pick out patterns of any constellations.) The red light keeps the eyes in a dark-adapted state while I consult the chart. Orion (with Betelgeuse, Bellatrix, Alnitak, Alnilam, etc.), Gemini (Castor, Polux), Taurus (Aldeberan), the Pleiades, Procyon are among the most prominent eastern constellations and stars about this hour. It was around 4 am.

Since moving to the high desert, I have been taking advantage of the dark skies and looking at the stars nearly every night. Indeed, astronomy has become a hobby. It has been years since I've lived far enough from city lights to be able to see the Milky Way or even to make out more than one constellation and that one was usually the Big Dipper. It is jolting (awesome), in a good way, to be where I can see the stars and the Milky Way again. Living in a city with its night sky like a television screen tuned to a dead channel makes you forget what the stars look like. I had been missing out on something worthwhile when I lived in Portland and in San Francisco.

No doubt, electric lighting has increased the quality of life, but it has come with a hidden cost: illumination of the nightscape. This is bad for several reasons. First, city glow hampers the viewing of celestial objects. To properly see the stars, you have to escape to a remote location. For many who live in a Megalopolis on the East and West coasts, for example, this requires a journey of a few hours by car. And even when you think you are at one of the most remote spots in the continental US, domes of ugly yellow light are still visible on the horizon.

One night last year during a backpacking trip to Death Valley, just as I was getting ready to sleep for the night, I noticed a pillar of bluish light above a sulfurous yellow dome of light in the east. After returning, I checked my map and even Googled it... It turned out that this was a monstrous spotlight emanating from some tacky casino (Luxor hotel/casino) in Las Vegas over 100 miles away. I think it is the brightest spotlight in the world, and sadly this assault against nature is now a permanent fixture of the night more than 100 miles around. Not only is it an affront to ones sense of esthetics, but preliminary scientific studies suggest that light pollution has harmful effects on ecology, human health (e.g. disruption of circadian rhythm), and social well-being.

This entry is rather long, and I find that ones attention span for reading any single item on the internet is not so long. So I have split this in two and will post the 2nd half when I get a chance tomorrow.

I'm an avid reader of McSweeney's Internet Tendency, and one of their semi-regular columns is essentially synonymous with the title of this entry. Badfish45 made a brilliant post in The Dark Side along these lines, and while it doesn't seem to be picking up there, I'd bet that it would take to ground here quite nicely. So, to that effect here is my letter.

---

Dear Anxiety,

Fuck you. Seriously. Yes, I know that I was treated like shit by my peers, and a few of my teachers. Yes, I know that I had negative self worth, and lived years of my life being randomly attacked by schoolyard assholes. Yes, I know that my grade 6 teacher put more effort into breaking me than teaching me.

That. Was. Twenty. Motherfucking. Years. Ago.

Why the flying fuck are you still around? There is literally nothing in my life that aught to cause me fear; I live in a safe and comfortable home, I work with kind and friendly people, I haven't been attacked (other than getting jumped 6 years ago) in roughly two decades. You stopped being adaptive ages ago, and have done nothing, nothing but hold me back. I live alone. I leave my house when I have to, but never 'just because'. My IRL social skills, while slowly progressing, are still, on a good day, roughly at the level of a shy 16 year old. I never initiate conversation, unless I'm very close to someone.Thanks to you I've lost the following:

• A fully funded one-year internship with the NRC right out of school (they just 'made' an extra funded position for me, after the application deadline even; were going to fly me out and everything... they never do stuff like that, ever)
• No less than two research gigs while in school that would have allowed me to get into grad school the first time that I applied-- I would have defended my thesis this spring had I been accepted then, and likely would be Dr. Dave now
• Countless relationships, due to either my obliviousness or my terror of following up on initial contact
• Countless friends, for the same reason, and also losing most friends that I've had from flaking on them during isolating periods
• Not one, but two opportunities to travel the world, back when world travel was a bit more innocent; places uninfested by backpackers still existed then
• Years off my life on one end due to excess cortisol levels, chronic high systolic blood pressure and the continuation of a binge eating disorder as a maladaptive coping mechanism
• Years off my life on the other end by wasting my time being isolated

I thought I killed you three years ago, you crafty fucker. I had to re-live the worst of the worst of my childhood in the hopes of pulling your fangs. And for a while it almost seemed like it worked. But you were still there, weren't you? WEREN'T YOU? Biding your time, letting me bask in the glow of my newfound, albeit illusory, freedom. But even within the year, you started to darken my doorstep again. First the glow faded; I attributed that to reaching a kind of equilibrium, becoming used to the new joy of being anxiety-free, and considering that as a signal to rejoin the world. Then, little hints of you started showing up again: I'd isolate myself a little bit, flaking out once every now and then; I'd lose entire days to escapist media; I lost myself further and further into the online world, ignoring the real one, allowing the last bit of my joy escape.

So now what? In the end, it's me or you. But you're so heavily entrenched that it's going to take a huge, sustained effort just to properly keep you at bay, much less actually subdue you. And with every step back that you force me to take, you erect earthworks and redoubts to keep me from taking the same step forward again.

Timor Animum Necat. Fear is the mind-killer. I was going to get this etched into my flesh when I thought you were gone as a victory flag of sorts, and was still considering it until very recently. But to do so now would be hollow. You still rule me, and I hate that. There is nothing else in this world that I would consider deserving of that word, but you. I hate you. And I won't ever stop hating you. I promise you that. If I have to reduce myself to an empty ball of anger to be rid of you, I'll consider it worthwhile. It would be an empty victory, a flag raised over charred earth, but it would be my fucking flag raised for once. Not yours.

Your days are numbered. Even if you take me with you, you're done for. I've had enough.

This is a super kickass song, you should check it out.

I liked going to school,
I didn't want to fool around with drugs
Cuz all of my friends were dropping out
I had to get stuff done, I wasn't fun
I didn't try pot 'til I was 21,
but now I'm overcompensating

I'd like to see what morning looks like
Don't wanna drink pint after pint
I wanna wake up without feeling sick
But I can't cuz I'm a drug-abusing alcoholic
I can't cuz I'm a drug-abusing alcoholic
I can't cuz I'm a drug-abusing alcoholic
I can't cuz I'm a drug-abusing alcoholic

At 28 I realized
hydrocodone was pretty great
For hangovers and late night hangs
I decided to spend my life having the best of times
It's too bad most of them I'll probably forget

And now I know what morning looks like
But only when I greet it from the previous night
My friends are telling me that I need to find a clinic
But I won't cuz I'm a drug-addicted alcoholic
I won't cuz I'm a drug-addicted alcoholic
I won't cuz I'm a drug-addicted alcoholic
I won't cuz I'm a drug-addicted alcoholic

Can't stop taking drugs

By nofx

Whoops I OD'd,
Shortness of breath.
Call ambulance,
Tell my wife I {love her}.
Error in judgement cut my life,
No second chance, no guiding light.

I never meant to cause you pain,
I never thought I'd be the one who took the fall.
I got lost in the moment,
Assholes like to test the limit.

Six minutes down,
Breathing machine,
Brain not feel right.
The look on you is killing me,
Drowning in shame but don't feel bad.
Cause I never feared consequences.
Hate regrets more than apologies.

A year has passed, like photographs.
My life is just a scrapbook,
Of old friends and faded memories.
Looks like I pulled the rug from under myself.
The fall's too much for me to recover from.

It's been real fun but now I must say goodbye.
I'll see you all at Okie Dogs,
I'll see you all at Okie Dogs.

Be fucking careful people. Fuck.

I did ½ g B2 with my other half two nights ago. which was great. he didnt experience the e scene of the 90s so we've been enjoying each other's company with some rc's of late. great fun with someone whom you have total trust in, to let go like you can emotionally and sexually. Though, in this case, more the latter. anyway, i digress. so we did b2 and managed to get a bit of sleep from 5:30 - 11am. The alarm clock didnt go off and we got awoken by our son after he'd taken the opportunity to watch loads of saturday morning tv. We then had a great day out, a bit tired but relaxed from the night before.we bought him a new (sharp as a butcher's knife) suit for his new job, took the wee one (or not so wee anymore) to the cinema, had dinner in a cafe and had a general good time in the city.

We came home and the boy (husband that is), was so sweet and cuddly and full of love and attention for me. The big boy and smaller boy cuddled on the sofa and watched yet another film. Yes, I know, it was a lazy day! They were snoozing so I stupidly decided to have this nrg3 i had stashed away. only one, i told myself. why on earth i thought this would be a good idea, i simply dont know. i didnt tell the boy and spent the rest if the evening/early hours re-dosing in "secret". Way to go on the trust front. he was super cuddly and i could tell he needed a cuddle but wouldnt ask for one. he's too patient for that. instead, i was on the laptop IMing friends and lurking on eBay and BL trip report forums. Now he's long ago asleep after patiently waiting for my attention the whole night and Im on here, tweaked out with no hope of sleep, having to explain my odd behaviour when he gets up.

I feel like a right muppet. Why would I 1) think it was a good idea 2)keep it secret. Ill tell you why. Because deep down you know you shouldnt but you mentally convince yourself that you can handle just one, to take the edge off. Then you get stuck in the fiending cycle incomprehensible to anyone who isnt in it so the appearance must be kept.

sigh. branded legals have too many shit qualities to make them worthwhile. Thing is, i already knew what this one was like cuz we;d tried it before and I was ready to bin them. But did I? Oh no. against my better judgement, I kept them "just in case". HA! Just in case i wanted a shitty no sleep, high fiending, high body-load mess again! Why is it so hard to bin drugs?? I even told my husband i'd binned them but "found a forgotten stash" when he asked about them. crap, maybe i;m developing symptoms of addiction?

-lying about your stash
-secret intake
-serious fiending (which never seems as bad for the boy. he can resist much better than me)
-doing small amounts to help make "boring" tasks, like cleaning, more enjoyable

If anyone is reading this, id love your opinion. 8)

Finally got my hands on some DMT (1st time trying it) was woundering what peoples thoughts were on it and how it changed youre perception on life etc....?

Im new to the forum as well, but i discovered most of my posts ended up being about me. That is because I am recently diagnosed as rapid cycling bipolar, and I figured it would be a good idea to offer the experiences I have with psychedelics and mental illness. Unfortunately this meant I was sort of hijacking threads so I decided to move over to blogs.

So the first question I'd imagine people having is; have psychedelics been detrimental to my mental state? That seems to be the accepted opinion, that I agree with in the case of most people with mental illness. For me (and I don't know if it is my addiction to traveling the roads of my subconscious) but I yearn to believe that psychedelics have been helpful. I certainly don't believe they've been harmful. I have been getting better (also medicated), and my disorder wasn't triggered by a psychedelic (unlike a friend I met on bluelight). My disorder was triggered by an adverse reaction to Zoloft, which I originally took for anxiety. I have sense been dialing down my psychedelic use.

A trouble I have with being bipolar is integrating my thoughts, as my short term memory has been shot to hell. So I’m attempting to improve my writing by joining bluelight and posting into the blogs and forums. So any suggestions are greatly appreciated.

Let's start from the beginning. So I have 2 dogs, a 5 year old male Westie named Sparky and a 2 year old female Dachshund named Shanna. I've had them both since each was a puppy. I didn't bother getting them altered. Until yesterday. Shanna was in her 3rd heat cycle and I was going insane because Sparky, being an unaltered male dog, wanted to make babies with her.

So I found the ASPCA mobile Spay/Neuter Clinic and brought the dogs there at 6:00am. It was freezing cold and raining but I was on about 75mg of oxy so I felt no pain. I had blankets and an umbrella for the doggies, don't worry! I was going to put on Shanna's sweater but she wouldn't let me keep it on for long So don't worry, they were fine!

Anyway... long story short, I now have an altered male and an altered female (who was already in heat) so I had to lock Sparky in the bathroom and Shanna in sleeping in my room. They're both wearing cones and have fresh incisions. We had to lock Sparky in the bathroom because he keeps humping Shanna but he is howling and whimpering and whining so I can't sleep. Plus I just drank a large glass of seltzer and now I have to pee like crazy but I can't really go in the bathroom because Sparky just stopped whining and I think he is finally sleeping!

I am looking for something I can pee in but it's hard because I am a girl! I can't really pee in a bottle or anything, trust me I would...

Wow, I can't believe how fucking insane I am and all the crazy things I am sharing with strangers.

Anyway, to take my mind off having to pee, I will talk about my day.

I had spicy pork tamales and a Mexican coke for dinner.

I went to class and spoke to my Professor about how her calling on me when I don't raise my hand makes me uncomfortable and she was very cool about it and she doesn't think I'm retarded so I may just get a passing grade in this class! I am so happy I spoke to her. My other class is kind of a fuck-off class, you know the type, plus it's a film class so... well, you get the idea.

So yeah, then I got some pills so I wouldn't be sick. Waiting on more, hopefully a good price! After these 2 times I think I'm going to take the rest of my Suboxone to help with the withdrawals and then dry out for a while. I can't afford this habit. I don't want to be homeless. So it's time to chill with the oxy.

I was thinking of getting into therapy and maybe starting the anti-depressants I am prescribed but don't take (Cymbalta and Wellbutrin) along with the clonazepam I take for my panic disorder.

So yeah the only thing that could have made my day better would be if I got a job. And if I could urinate...

Its snowing here in NYC, Just like mot years in my life My hometown Spokane, WA it usally snows just days before Halloween or even on Halloween and that starts out the winter. Today its two days early but still welcomed.

I love the different weather cycles! One thing here is the Thunder Snow which i never experinced out west and last year was the first I have ever herd of such a thing. Its cool.

I didn't sleep well. I'm really groggy.

Feeling a bit more positive though.

Just hope it lasts...

Hi just wanting some advice as to wether my patner is snorting speed, we been together a year & he admitted he did drugs before he met me, I don't use drugs & I made it v clear 2him, we went out for the night & hiz mates once again offers him a line of speed. He refused saying u no I don't do drugs & he had told them not 2 offer or do drugs when I woz there but they never listen, any way he turned it down a couple of times & when he thought I woznt looking he took the line!!! I eoz devastated & walked out we split for a while he said he woz sorry he woz stuipd & it woz 1st time since he been with me & he don't no why he did it! Well I don't belive him & I think he still doin it when he with hiz mates he came home the other night constatly touching & rubbing hiz nose after he been with them & then to days later it woz like living. With somone with a split personality he is moody & I feel I am walking on egg shells, he is on anti deppresants & mo maybe it's just them making him poorly I don't no but I don't trust him if he will snort when I am there he will any time won't he? any advice would be great

so about 5 days ago i was veery drunk off a couple forties. (im a light wait) later that night i stupidly decided to buy a gram of GOOD coke. this was only my second time doing coke but every other time i had only done 1 or 2 lines. So after staying up all night i started to come off the coke. I started to feel incredibly weird, with minor hallucinations. I also felt incredibly disoriented. So i was pretty much OUT OF IT.

I know coke"s out of your system in 3 days if you"re not a heavy user, but ever since that night I've felt very disconnected and slightly spacey. Kind of like how you feel after a lot of thizz or molly. Has anyone ever experienced this when mixing cocaine with alcohol? if so pleeeease let me know if it goes away and how long if so. I am very worried that i've damaged my brain, especially since its been almost a week.

Plus is there anything i can do to make this stop? like vitamins, medication, diet?