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Talked to some lawyers, I what I knew to be true is true. The only person that I love more than anything is getting fucked because of my past. I am going to get her one of those nefty suits that has special powers like Super Man, except they just make felonies got to misdimeanors (god I cant spell for shit). Talked to the County Health also, we will get into a program right away.

It just sucks that they offer time to someone who has no priors. I hate the package deal thing. I love knowing how to work the system though. My baby will be tried seperate from me. I might just do the time, its nothing. 4 months ain't shit to a guy like me. I just hate the fucking food. Oh god the food, it's like someone said, "What is the shittiest food we can make? I know, here it is. Oh and lets cough in it and get everyone sick to boot."

FUCK THE POLICE

Still cool today. Morning clouds startign to burn off. Outside temp in the 60s. It might reach 70 degrees later. My bicycle chain broke during my morning commute. Had to stop and fix that. Acutally, I replaced it on the spot. That chain has been snapping about once a month so I started carrying an extra chain to replace it next time it broke. It was tricky because it is a super-narrow 9 gear Shimano HG chain. The link pin didnt' want to line up with the hole in the outer part of the link. Continuing my commute, stopped at a coffee shop and washed most of the chain grease off my hands. Some won't come off. Had 2 cups coffee. Listening to: SomaFM streaming audio. Industrial noise/Experimental. Throbbing Gristle, Bauhaus, Coil, Skinny Puppy, Lustmord, Tool, Lab Report, Clock Dva, etc. One might describe this music genre as "Entertainment through pain."

I usually run 2 or 3 times a week for a total of around 20 miles/week. I commute by bicycle and dont' drive a car or take the bus. Since age 25 (quite a while ago), this I've needed to do to get in shape and maintain fitness. Now, I've missed running for the last 3 weeks. Partly because of work, and partly because changing my schedule to take care of the injured cat. So, yesterday evening, I was changing into some mud-clothes to wear while working in the garden. The pants I've had since high school. As I tried to button the waste, the thread holding the button snapped. And then, I noticed that my belly looks bloated. Time to get back to running and get rid of this gut. It took me 3 weeks to get it -- maybe a couple of weeks to get rid of it?

Preface: I was living in Tampa, had a son (6th child) with a Puerto Rican girl, and then after she married another man I fathered my 7th and last child, a daughter with a Mexican woman.

Now...Tampa in the mid-1990s had absolutely no heroin scene. It is interesting why and how it changed.

Most BLers are too young to know the climate of the US drug scene from the mid-1980s to the mid-1990s. The 60s of course changed the entire American outlook in terms of morality. In the 70s even the DEA was preaching that cocaine was non-addictive and so prosecutions rarely took place against cocaine violations, and when they did it was generally for smuggling. The Federal System still had parole (which they strangely called "Probation," despite the system also having actual probation). Coke was the in-drug, symbolising hedonism, affluence (as opposed to some nappy headed coke whore as it does today) and people wore little gold spoons around their neck, actually bragging about their heavy usage.

In 1983 a crew of Dominican immigrants (mostly illegal) began converting cocaine into its freebase form. They didn't use "extenders," simply added sodium carbonate, water and heat, chill as you stir and voila. They began selling it in tiny ziplocks and named their product, "Based Balls" [sic]. Americans entered the age of crack. Prior to crack Americans prepared their cocaine with ammonia to basify it, and ether to retrieve the freebase from the ammonia. The problem is that if you don't wash and dry the product you leave residual ether, which is highly flammable. When someone uses cocaine, a stimulant, their hands shake, they become way too impatient to properly prepare the freebase and so accidents began happening more frequently as coke entered the 80s...Richard Pryor became the poster boy for shitty judgement during 1 such binge when he set himself on fire. Such incidents tended to push Americans away from smoking cocaine.

When the afore mentioned Dominican crew began selling tiny ziplocs with pre-packaged freebase they were already dealing with people fairly used to smoking cocaine. While people didn't freebase much there was a custom amongst inner city youth where they would take powder coke (cocaine hcl.) and sprinkle it inside what most now call a "blunt" (cheap cigar in which the tobacco has been removed, except for the wrapper, and marijuana has been put in its place). These cocaine laced super joints were called "Boolies."One got a bit of a "freeze" on the inside of their mouth and just a momentary taste of the coke and its effect. When Booly smokers began lacing these joints with Based Balls it ripped users a new asshole. The clientele increased exponentially and by the summer of 1984 crack was the new #1 drug in New York City.

Stimulants are an entirely different ball game when it comes to addiction. The easiest way to describe it would be to imagine the normal physical, mental and emotional state as the baseline (no pun intended haha) on a graph. With just a single 10 second "hit" of effectively smoked stimulants (crack, shabu/syabu, yaa baa/yama, amphetamine freebase -tan tar that used to be moderately popular in the UK) the user rockets upwards in a very high arc, reaching the highest point extremely fast and then...not only back to baseline like a lead weight, the user plummets past that baseline into a deep depression and physical lethargy. This naturally drives the user to seek that apex post haste. Forethought disappears thanks to an almost total lack of inhibition. This means the user will almost immediately do things they never imagined in their worst nightmares just to feel that apex again.

As usage exponentially spread it also began in metropolitan areas over much of the country as dealers saw how profits soared higher than anyone thought possible. Cities like Tampa, whose "drug scene" had been here-to-fore limited to marijuana and pills suddenly were overwhelmed. Law enforcement was not in any way equipped for an avalanche of addiction-related crime and so people got desperate. The US Govt. under Reagan actually listed crack as the most pressing security threat to the US after nuclear weapons. Under his successor, Bush Sr., a local DC dealer was nabbed at a routine DWI Checkpoint across from the Whitehouse with several ounces of crack just before Bush went on air live to warn the country about this new menace. The President made a very good impression on the US public, holding up that bag filled with massive rocks as he looked disgusted. With that possibly engineered moment America changed irrevocably. The "Kingpin Law" was enacted, as were mandatory sentencing guidelines that amazingly made a distinction between 2 forms of the SAME substance. A person with 4 ounces of powder could get probation on a 1st time offence but let it be 4 ounces of freebase and it was Life. More over, parole was abolished so that Life no longer meant 18 years, it meant forever (indeed, it still does). States quickly followed suit in enacting the same knee jerk laws and regulations. Because crack was confined to urban locales this meant whites, who at the time tended to indulge themselves only in powder were not filling up prisons, blacks, and to a lesser degree Latinos were. This unpleasant truth turned back the clock on black/white relations.

As crack began stabilising a new dynamic began shapimg up as if to try and take its place in as America's new drug menace; In 1994 Colombians finally gained a marketshare of the US heroin market. Using well established distribution networks that had originally imported marijuana before graduating into cocaine they leaned on distributors in South Florida to begin building up clientele.

As I have said, I drove lorrys, trucks, and while I would fly up to New York and smuggle back 2 or 300 bags every month, it was for my own enjoyment. I had made a mistake in the army when I tried to smuggle some hashish but that was it. I considered potentially distributing those NY glassines but noone used heroin in Tampa. Then, after seeking a local connection for heroin I finally met a Puerto Rican dealer selling Colombian chocolate coloured #4 (as I mentioned in a previous entry).

I began using heavily, and 1 day 1 saw a Puerto Rican girl I knew through friends. I pulled my truck over and gave her a lift. We began talking and she had been thinking about my idea of selling NY glassines in Tampa. She then told me she and her mother were willing to work for me. I dropped her off and after I finished work went to her home where the 2 of them lived. The mother agreed with the idea enthusiastically, telling me Tampa now had a small but lucrative street scene. I was suprised but asked her about it. She told me it was on the outskirts of the Ponce De Leon Projects (which were near by) and asked if I wanted to take a look at it. I agreed and the daughter and I walked over

15 minutes later we were on a street corner outside the projects. She saw a man in his 50s and said hi from across the street. The guy, Max, was the only street dealer in Tampa but was desperate for quality heroin. He had 2 sources but both were garbage. I thought about the Puerto Rican connection I was beginning to form but Max killed that thought when he told me he was desperate to sell "my" heroin (meaning NY glassines). I asked him to show me what he was selling and to my utter amazement he showed me tiny pieces of aluminum foil that looked like they were holding single pieces of small blotter acid (in NY in that era individual dosages of LSD were wrapped in tinfoil, tiny squares). I asked him to open a bag and he handed me 2. Opening I found perhaps 40mg of off white powder with dark brown specks in it (the specks being the actual heroin). The shit was garbage. I asked him what the price was and he said they were dimes (10 US Dollars). I asked him who he worked for, etc., and he explained that he worked for himself buying 2 to 3 grammes for 300 US per gramme, and each gramme made 40 dimes after he stepped on it (adulterated it, aka "cut" it). He then told me he usually sold between 60 and 70 dimes a day. He was making a profit of 100 to 150 US a day selling garbage.

I didn't see how it would be worth the effort to sell the heroin I had just connected with after giving him his daily PC (his percentage of profit on sales each day). NY bags though, that might work. I told him that if he and I worked together he would be selling bags at least 50% bigger (NY glassines were 100mg per bag uniformly at the time, now they are at least 150mgs) but that I wanted 15 Dollars per bag. Anything he made above 15 would serve as his PC. He could easily sell them for quarters (25 Dollars) but I recommended 20 per so as to run volume (which increases your profit a lot more than selling less bags at a higher price). He agreed. As we talked he would go over to this musty thrown away couch tsitting under a tree that served as his office. Listening to the banter I saw that his customers judged purity by the colour of the product.

They ignorantly believed that it was impossible to find adulterants ("cut") that wasn't white. Since all Colombian heroin at the time was the colour of cocoa powder they judged a bag to be purer if it was dark.

The problem though was that NY had practically no Colombian heroin, it was almost entirely SE Asian #4. NY addicts had always had snow white heroin NY addicts usually would not even buy non-white heroin when sick (NY of that era had 5 or 6 brands on most corners where heroin was sold). Brown at that time was the Mexican #4, "Mexican Mud." In NY they used Puerto Rican slang and called it, "Chocofine" (as in rhymes with "Chocomine"). I had a dilemmna.

To be continued...

Before I knew it
My heart not a stone wall of opium
Nothing and everything just a mess
and here was us
a theory of chaos to the test
what was worry?
just an olympus
of misfits
and slowly
the past catches fast
and thought we could just let it go
but like a rubber band
or string on a violin
a boomerang of inevitable

Always I said, I am a exercise of Murphy's Law, and you always just laughed, and I'd chuckle but now I don't.

That time, an event horizon, of drinking too much, and chasing a debacle of shit.
We met across lucid oceans, face to face.. But didnt know tomorrow
more real than any place.

I look around and see your shadow.

Shakespearean allegory of futility, platonic irony. All that fucked up tragedy.

I cant even masturbate without crying. But not a joke, I guess it'll be worth it. Like a crescendo of steel stringed heavy metallic hell and echos in my mind like a baseline -your body against mine.

And I was standing in front of it. I swear to god that the courts in SD is a dick measuring contest with the PD holding the ruler (thought of this at court today). I got offered the joke of the day as a deal and than to make matters worst, they gave my wife the same bullshit. I told them I need a 2 week extension (get it extension, dick measuring contest, hahaha) and got it of course. I definately need to find a way to make money so I can get a real lawyer. It's so funny how they fuck you so much that they make you do the shit that gets you into trouble. I am going to try to do this legit, I am too tired of the underground scene to try it a different way.

I didn't use with all this stressful bullshit, so at least I am happy about that. Eventhough my family is kind of giving up on me, because I rather out instead of in. I cant go in because I need to work. I need to work so I don't become homeless. It's just one great fucking circle.

I got to see the most beautiful woman today. I made love to her twice and got to give her head to boot. God we were so sexually frustrated since we weren't allowed to see each other. She told me that she told her ma that she cannot be able away from so long because we are very sexual (I guess you can say that because we have sex almost everyday for 10 years.) So even though I had the shittiest of court dates, I am still happy I got to see her.

I know they are fucking her (the DA) because of my past. She has no record at all (just 1 infraction). My record, you can make a movie with. It's bullshit, I told her family to get a real lawyer and to try her seperate from my loser ass. I can do jail time standing on my head, especially since I wont be in withdrawls this time around. Maybe I can become homie in a prison gang and get my fac tatted.

I just have so much shit going thru my head and I am so alone because she had to leave. I am going to try and get into a program tomorrow and get the job back tomorrow so if anyone sees this, cross your fingers and wish me some luck. This has been a good outlet though and I recommend it all the time. It has good reads and just blogging I believe is letting alot of those emotions that I hid for a very long time out.

Oh I forgot, I got to get my own place, I am also a burden on my family now. I hate cops, I think NWA got it right.

So I guess what we do, what we feel, what we write and experience really means nothing.

I guess its just for us as individuals. Whatever impact, for good or bad, on others doesn't mean a thing.

So life never happened? Its real to me and it has to be for something.

When I die, yeah, I would like to be remembered, preferably in a positive manner.

Its not gonna happen.

My experiences, feelings and actions apparently aren't to be shared.

So its true? I never agreed with the statement 'we live alone' but I guess it is true that we do in fact die alone.

Fuck that! My life MEANS SOMETHING, mother fuckers... we ALL have value... all of this isn't for nothing.

We live, we learn, we die. Hopefully we help others somewhere in that process

Preface: I am currently in New York City, here to attend my daughter's Quincinera (though it will not be in the city).

Now...Since I came to New York on this trip, it has been more or less heavy snow. I love it, I tend to frequent tropical locales and try as you might you cannot cool off. It does NOT help things that I am a person who sweats extra heavily even without my opiate/opioid addiction. In cold weather though you simply pile on layers of clothes. The best thing, in New York, is the streets aren't crowded. This is great for me because I am a magnet for street drama.

If you haven't seen my profile photo I look like I am European, and am usually in the "hood" when I am in New York. The South Bronx is very tame compared to my youth but it still isn't a playground by any measure. An example...Yesterday I was on my way to the methadone clinic (in the US I am forced to enroll for my visits) to pick up my 5 bottles. It was early, I cannot go until after 12PM (12 to 630PM). I decided to go to the library. I walk in, get on the internet (I get tired of using handhelds).

I sit down. Immediately across from me is a kid, 18 or 19 maybe. Standing next to him is his friend, same age. Both are Puerto Rican but speaking in English:

PC Kid: Yo my nigga! Dem bitches aint doing shit! Whoa! Look at dis bitch's tits! Dem shits is sagging yo!

His Friend: Fuck it ma nigga, allz I'm seein' is dat pussy anywayz so what the fuck I care about a bitch's tits!!!?

PC Kid: Yo fa real ma nigga! Yooooooo!

At this point I very calmly and nicely ask them to speak quietly since elderly, women and children are also there. Sensing I am soft because I speak calmly, and appear to be a "whiteboy" they blow me off...

PC Kid (talking to his friend): Yo nigga I know this nigga aint talkin to me! Who da fuck he think he is?

I am not Rambo. I am only 5 foot 8 (in American speak), not particularly muscle bound, but hyper-aggressiveness is bred into me from my decade active service, etc. In the "West Bank" or Gaza you speak calmly and with respect BUT IF it isn't immediately reciprocated you need to immediately establish boundries firmly. In that vein I established my boundries:

Me:Yo motha-fucka you run your mouth to me I'll stomp your young ass in a heartbeat, I aint ya fucken friend, ya feel me?

Safe to say neither one of them expected that response. The people there, including 3 librarians didn't say a fuckem word or even look at them. All that "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" talk was taking place and noone had heart to say shit. I would like to think I did it for other people but behavior like that is like nails on the chalkboard to me.

So PC Kid only mumbles now and his froend was trying to grt him to shut up. They go outside. 2 or 3 minutes re-enter and back to the PC. I know not to make rye contact and press his pride, as long as he mumbles I let him get that off. Then an elderly Latino mam enters and sits beside PC Kid. The kids won't curse now but begin talking louder about nonsense. As long as the "pussy-pussy/fuck-fuck" stays gone I'm cool. The old man though? He speaks to PC Kid loudly in Spanish, telling him to calm diwn, no reason to get excited. PC Kid turns, for 2 or 3 seconds eyeballs the old man like he's about to talk wise. I'm thinking I'm just going to have to wax that young ass when PC Kid says , " Yo, you got that pops." Continuing in Spanish he says Latinos have to look out for Latinos," and laughs saying it and eaises his head and looks directly at me thinking I don't understand Spanish. My English is accented but my Spanish is perfect:

"Hoye, quires algo conmigo nene?" (Hey, kid u want something from me?)

He literally said, " Ohhhhhhhh shittttttt!" Hahaha. About 20 seconds later he realised he had me pegged incorrectly and maybe there were other unexpected things.

The old man look at me and said in Spanish, "These kids just have no respect."

I answered matter of factly, in Spanish, "I know sir. I have 7 children and my 4 eldest are older than these 2 kids."

Then PC Kid tried to salvage hus burgeoning manhood: "Yo nigga this nigga really thinking I'm soft" (but not saying it loudly. Then his friend finally decided to say something to me:

"Aint nobody soft here mistah. You thing wrong mistah."

Me: (Contuing to type on the PC) "OK, anything else?"

At this point the main librarian decided to chime in. Even I was suprised when she said, " Take it outside." I would have thought that she would have threatened to have the kids arrested but she sounded like she was encouraging a fight haha. Her 2 clerks then said the same thing, "Take it outside." So the 2 kids told me that when I come out they will "fuck me up." I said, "OK papa, mwaaah" and gave a kiss. I put my Blackberry in my Carhart's inside pocket. Double tied my workboots and tucked the ends inside, zipped my hoodie and Carhart and was outside in about 60 seconds. I expected to throw down but they weren't even in sight. I looked around and what do I see? The 3 librarians and other faces looking with anticipation. I turned to the window where the 3 women librarians had their beady eyes and coughed up some nice phlegm and spit it on the window and scared the shit out of them hahaha.

Treat me nice I treat you nicer, treat me bad and I treat you BADDEST" as the Jewish proverb goes. Co-incidentally that is the library where my Sidekick was stolen precipitating another "situation."

OK, I later thought about it as I walked to the clinic and I was angry with myself. The library is literally 2 blocks from the 40th Police Precinct. If I won, or lost, I would have been jailed either way if those shit heads were under age 18. The fact that both were easily over 6 feet and that they walked with pants around their asses, there is no legal excuse unless they jumped me without my saying a word. Then I can kill them but what I dud was simply stupid.

I went to the clinic. As I wait for my number to be called and pick up my bottles I saw something that cheered me up. A woman walks to the counter where the numbers are handed out and turns ib a bottle of methadone she had just found. I would have bet money no addict would do that. It's akin to a junkie walking up to a dealer to return an extra 2 bags. My momentary cheer dissipated when the junkie who had lost it went to claim it and didn't even thank the girl! Typical in my mind.

So I left, took the subway. After switching trains I am about to take an empty seat when a Latino man tries to literally push me away and take it. I said excuse me calmly and shoulder checked him, knocking him half off his feet and then I sat down.

The "man" turned out to be a rather masculine looking man of about 50 (I am almost 44). He/she turned around 180 degrees (standing) and snered at me nodding his or her head as if to say, "Tsk, tsk, tsk." Stupidly I snarled, "What da fuck you lookin' at?" She kept nodding her head but didn't look at me again. I hate this city.

The thing is, when 1 person is at the center of a dynamic they are usually the defining factor. In other words, if I get into fights often it must be because of how I am. However, I travel the world and the only place that this EVER happens is New York City!

So...my conclusion is that it is having to do with American racism. I look like a white square and tend to be in the "hood." Racism cuts all different angles. Black on white, brown on white, whatever.

I get to leave very soon so it is all good, as long as I step outside of situations.

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Ugly

I remember it was about 10 years ago. We hanged out a bunch already, but I think I finally got you to notice me more. You went with me to that party, I think in IB. You gave me your sack, and I smoked it all, but you didn't mind. You dropped me off that night and I kissed you for the first time. I will always remember, because was just oing to go, but something clicked in my head. I turned around and I asked, would you mind if I kiss you? Of course you said yes. We made love the next day for over an hour or 2. I will always remember, always. I loved you than, but I couldn't tell you that, would have been uncool. So I wantt you to know, I have always loved you. Even that night I asked to kiss you. I fall in love easy, its got me into trouble before, but what can you expect from a Cancer (and baby, I am all Cancer, right in the heart). What I mean by that is I am born in the middle of the Cancer month.

I've been busy lately, my daughter has a lot of school stuff going on.

And I've been able to be a part of it. I've never seen her this happy, it makes me smile so hard my face hurts.

I haven't used once since my last post.

Right now I can't say it will last, but for now, I'm meth free.

Meetings have been going great. It's good to let everything out in the open with people who have actually been down the same road. It's too hard to talk to my boyfriend about it. He's never faced addiction.

Just a short update, gotta finish making dinner and help my angel with her homework.

Well, I got back from my daily NA meeting, and they had questions about the "steps" today. It was something about being tolerant to the spiritual/ religion aspect of the steps. I had to pass, because I have some fucked up views.

Is therea god? I don't know and I really don't give a shit. If there is, he/she is one fucked up being. I have a lot of experience with death, and it seems like it happends to the best people.

Take Jeff. Jeff was a good friend of mine when we were 14-16. He would have been a good friend now but god had other plans. This guy wasn't a punk like me in no way. He did good in school, loved life and was a prime example of the good child.

Well god's plans said FUCK YOU to him and gasve him leukemia. This happends quiet a lot. He battled for the years I knew him. He got better, was out of the hospital and than..... BAMMMM. It came back and killed him. I love you brother.

Take Chris. Chris wasn't such a saint, but he was a good kid. He never harmed anyone, shit he helped everyone he could. We would party and have fun, if someone was gettign too violent, he stop it. Well god's plans didn't include in chris turning 18. He got hit by a car. Love you brother.

These are just 2 examplrs. I got more, but I am starting to cry.

So is there a god? If there is a god, he can go FUCK him/herself!!!!!

I dont mean to bash anyone elses views. I am just very bitter.

I'm concluding another long boring session of wake too early, work too long, stay up too late. It happens four days in a row on a weekly cycle. On the fifth day. I sleep too long, wake too late, do too much, stay up too late, wake too late, do too much, stay up too late, wake too early, do just enough to come home and lay around before staying up too late and repeating. It's endless. It's boring. It's a routine. It's familiar. It's contention if not comfort. It's happiness and distress served gluttonously on one plate.

In time, long distances become shorter, years go by faster, friends become more meaningful - because they're few and far between - and as a whole, you just become either more cynical or more alive... dependent of course upon what day of the week it is.

My ultimate goal is to not look at Monday as the beginning of the week, or Tuesday's conclusion as the end of what's not even half of my week's hours as a civil servant. Wednesday shouldn't just be the dividing point between the better half and the worse half of my week. And Thursday and Friday shouldn't just lead me into the weekend. I want each week to be a new endeavor. I want to live, work, and chillax in a forward thinking environment.

SO I like to listen to music a lot, but the thing is, I cannot find too much music form this decade or century that I really like. I mean there are some good shit that sounds alright to me, but I think they have a 90s sound. Ever since that bitch spears started in late 90s early 2000s shit has been going downhill. Oh well, I am just going to listen to some butthole surfers and not do drugs.

Anything I want in life:

Oh how I wish
that you'd come to me.
I crave your presence,
I need your guidance.
Please.
Please, set me free.

You would make me so happy,
You would relieve my stress,
I would be so comfortable,
and my life would be a success.

It's been too long.
I've wanted you for so long,
but you're always gone.
I don't understand,
Why have you stayed away from me?

I thought if I waited,
I thought if I wanted you enough...

I've been fucking patient
and I've waited long enough.

But you don't come to patience, do you?
You don't care if I want you, huh?
I have to make you come to me.
And it's only a matter of time until I figure you out.


That's how I'm feeling. How are you feeling right now? :]

OMG so much has changed. I graduated college with a B.A. in psychology and a B. A. on sociology. I waited tables for awhile at a new restaurant which sucked hardcore but I made it through it.

Now, I'm a Shelter Advocate at a local women's shelter. I work with mostly domestic assault and homeless women and children. I go in the office everyday at 4 (and every other weekend) just as all the day people are leaving. They work with the people that live at the shelter as well as those that live in pour transitional housing. We also have a office that works directly with people that need help and does outreach so that people know we are available. So basically I'm all alone, other that whatever women or children we have living there at the time.

Its my job to handle any problems (community living for women; DRAMA), make sure they have food and other needs, counsel them about their assault and help them make goals to move forward, make sure the shelter is cleaned and cared for, DOCUMENT EVERYTHING (sucks working with grants; if someone comes it and takes medication TWO PAGES of paperwork!!) and answer the Crisis Line.

The Crisis line could be anything. It could be a woman that was just raped and wants someone to go to the hospital with her, it could be someone who is mentally ill and wants so comfort, it could be someone who is suicidal, it could be a woman who was just beaten by her boyfriend and fleeing for her life, or it could be a pervert that wants to tell me how his wife is cheating with other women IN DETAIL.

I never know what work is going to be like. That pervert really messed me up for awhile, cause he could be local. He knew my name and used it often, told me explicit things, knew my schedule that scared me. But after my boss told me that if he acts like that I don't have to take it and I can hang up I've felt better. That was tough.

THEN we got bed bugs! OMG 6 foot tall pile of furniture,carpet, bedding and clothing that had to go to the dump (AND the shelter's X-mas tree!!). Anything that couldn't go (like the resident's clothes when they only have what they have...had to be washed and bedding and towels we had to keep (we work only off grants and DONATIONS), so 200 loads of laundry, including any rugs and curtains...

Then $2,000 that was supposed to be spent to fix our computer database so that we can pull up a file rather than asking a woman to repeat the story they told last night when she was raped to one advocate to another advocate that is working tonight cause she is having trouble with it and the advocate doesn't know the backstory.

I'm new so I NEVER know the back story.

Then we thought someone in the house was high a lot and we couldn't prove it, but they would come in and talk to me and not make ANY sense. Then there was drama, drama, drama. Oh and someone thought they had headlice and everyone had to be check (no one had it, the person that thought they did was told they would be checked and instead of getting checked she just left. WHAT?!?! Its SHAMPOO DUDE!! Crazy!)

Oh and the police showed up on my shift to arrest someone for grand theft auto, but that was a smaller deal than I thought it would.

I tell you what the job is exhausting at times but considering what I'm learning to deal with I'm doing good. Need a little bit more "medication" (I smoke weed instead of taking the klonopin; works better, but lately I've taken some kpins too), which concerns me. Its been 2 months I've been working here and I'm already struggling...
but they all tell me that I'll be a great advocate I just have to be a little more stern and not let the residents in the shelter push me around and manipulate me and learn not to take the Crisis feelings and thoughts home with me.
But like I said, considering I'm doing alright.
I am there as a "Volunteer" (with a "living wage" paid) for 1 year...then I hope I can find another psych job that is suited for me.

I wonder if doing just a therapy job would be better or do I want to do like Human Resources for companies and thing??

Tony and I are doing well. 1.5 years now? idk.
He got his driver's license back (after losing it for 3 year) and is now hanging out at the bar checking ids. He likes the excuse to hang out there anyway and he gets free beer and $12 an hour. Jerk is making as much as I am working 10 -2 3 nights a week. I'm putting in at least 32 hours a week! I hang out there a lot, more than I should really but I have a D.D. so... *shrug*

But things have improved with us. He is very loving and affectionate now that I'm off the Tramadol and I haven't touched it since I quit. I don't want it. I do occasionally take like codeine or hydro but after a friend took off with $45 of my money and never called me back... I might change that. I'm really hurt by it and I don't know what to do about it really.... any advice would be nice...

Also, as I'm growing in work I'm growing as a person. Work doesn't care what I look like so I cut my hair and Tony bleached it and we dyed it pillarbox red (WHAT IS PILLAR BOX?!?!)
I'm inspired in my look by the women in "Marvel" comic books and Amine. I try to mix the two.
I really enjoy it and instead of dragging myself out of bed at the last minute and throwing something on, I plan and I actually PAINT on my makeup and then take picture sometimes.

I'm not TOTALLY happy with this one. This is the character I call "Chaos" (more Marvel Villain than Anime).



Tony says I look like one of the "evil exs" from
"Scott Pilgram Vs. The World"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scott_Pilgrim_vs._the_World

This one of me is more of the anime meet comic book look...




I think I want to do "Jet", from the "Tank Girl" comics for my next pic.

I'm trying to fine some clothing that works for this look now. HAHA I'm always blended in so much but I'm enjoying sticking out.

I've said "If you don't like me today, try again tomorrow cause I might be a totally different person." Which is true. I've told my fiends (all at least 30) that I'm enjoying try these things and learning what I like and what I want. They just laugh and say they know that already, but I'm just 23 and I will too. (Perhaps I grew out of the BPD!! Its been a long time since I've had any flare ups with that. Tony has been a dream boyfriend working with me there...) I wonder what it means that everyone is older than me. Tony will be turning 32 this month and me 24 the next! Oh well, what is age really?


I the middle of all this I am trying to take care of myself, not really new years resolution but its a good time to kinda do that I guess. Vitamins and trying to switch from 3 2 liters of Mt. Dew a day, to adding a little sparking flavored water. I guess its alright. Its its not caffeine its something else ya know.

Well guys I think that is about it. I know I had been gone so long from BL that I didn't want you to think that I had dropped off the face of the earth or worse.
I'm happy, using any more mood stabilizers or antidepressants. I moderating my drug use well, and taking care of myself. Not to mention I'm working and able to at least take care of myself a bit AND in a healthy and WONDERFUL relationship! I really couldn't ask for more.


Here is to 2011 guys! It will be the best yet!

Here are a couple videos of the beach I took today:
The beach- Our backyard

The backyard from the balcony

I've tried a few times to write this entry but the words just weren't coming. I don't know how to put these feelings into some sort of understandable text. I don't understand any of it. I'm even finding it hard to reply to people's posts in TDS.

Yesterday morning my mom called to tell me that a neighbor found my oldest brother dead in his trailer. He died sometime between Thursday (01/13/11) afternoon and Saturday morning. We don't know the cause.

He suffered his whole life but these last few years were the hardest. He got to the point where he was unable to take care of himself. He had physical problems in addition to his alcohol and drug addictions. He was diagnosed with diabetes at the age of 14.

I learned last night that it was not a self-inflicted gun wound. This was my greatest fear.

My parents left for Tennessee from Pennsylvania this morning to assess what needs to be done. I suspect they will be shocked with his living conditions due to his addiction.

My other brother and I will be going down to pack his personal belongings and bring them back home.

I really don't know what else to say

OK so after 9 days of Ayurvedic fast, which caused me to lose about 3-4 lbs (NEEEED to put on the weight again stat!) and slow my metabolism aaaand ultimately cleanse my body inside and out - I started eating more consciously.

Not that I was eating particularly unhealthily before, but just relatively due to my constitution - overreactive flora in the form of Candida... sucks.

So I'm eating more bitter greens, way less yeast and fermented products, even LESS processed sugar (next to nothing now), and not drinking any cow's milk - goats milk FTW!

So On thursday after working with my lady's ex doing some roofing, (I decided to do a couple of mushrooms, which helped me get over my fear of being seriously high up a roof pretty quickly after a spliff as well...) I had a few drinks and a few spliffs and fuck me, I nodded out pretty quickly - easier than usual.

I just put it down to not eating properly at the time, but in actual fact I ate A LOT that day, so it wasn't that... plot thickens.

So the next day as I'm walking back along the forest way, I drink this poppy pod tea brew my friends made up for me - it's quite nice, light and slightly euphoric to start with, getting warmer, especially seeing as it's kinda sunny....

Get home and my eyes are well and truly glazed and time is shooting by.

Start nodding.

THis shit is pretty heavyduty to the point where I feel a bit sick.

I'm nodding, I tell my friend who made it for me and he gives me a couple of capfuls of ground coca leaf with some bicarb to chew on...I'm still nodding so I do another.

Mouth goes all numb, and start feeling very up and at 'em - all's well. Sociable buzz is back.

So I go to a party and smoke a few joints, and get offered a line of some very nice cocaine - haven't had any like that in a year...

Forward wind to sunday morning AAAAAND - I'm puking.

My body does NOT like the amount of drugs I mercilessly dumped into it unannounced and it's payback.

This is a warning - treat my body well, nothing LIKE this amount (which I thought was small) of chemicals to go in my system again, in such a short span of time...silly Jimmy

well what can i say about the weekend? friday nigt was great, cinema and tgi fridays. steak was beaut...service was awesome but 35quid?? hmmm ok for a special occasion. had another pretzel i was craving, this time vanilla and sugar then watched little fockers. shite cinema at mhell. film was good tho ki didnt reackon much to it. had a lovely walk home from train station and child free evening. good times.

sat morning we went on visiting rounds and to the park with the kids. think we had more fun tho i went to my mums to chill for a while as ki went snookering with jamie. he won 2-1 which i didnt expect but awesome! came home and just chilled. was lovely. i love the weekend, especially as there was no drink or drugs involved.

yesterday my mum rang to ask me to go to oldham and somewhere in lincs with her. was a really long drive, left at 11am returned at 8 pm. sat in the car while she did the appointments and just chilled with a magazine. enjoyed it so much, the scenery in manchester is fab. the moors, moutains, lakes. loved it! had kfc and macdonalds also thanks to mum. came back and just chatted with the fam. they booked to go to florida which i must admit am a little jealous of as i would love a holiday.
we really need to book one but i sooo wanna get this house done. cant help but think kierhan is a little selfish at times. seems to think he can buy what he wants when he wants. spend all of our money and not worry about the house. his laziness in the morning is also becoming a problem for me again. its causing arguments. i hate to argue!
still not sure if i have ovulate/d or not. not massively bothered right now cos i am beginning to think its going to be a loooooong wait. gotta pace myself and not waste my energy.
today sucks. got no money no fags no food and we have a funeral tomorro. yea kierhans off work but still what fun is that when we have no money. dunno how we will survive until saturday, this job centre thing has messed us up completely. not happy!!

I like to keep track of what I've taken over the course of my life, so I'll be updating this as I try new things.

--Stimulants--

• Caffeine
• Nicotine
• Amphetamine (Adderall)
• Methylphenidate (Concerta)
• Ecstasy

--Depressants--

• Alcohol
• Zolpidem (Ambien)

--Opioids--

• Hydrocodone (Vicodin)
• Propoxyphene (Darvocet)
• Oxycodone (Percocet, Oxycontin)

--Psychedelics--

• Cannabis
• Salvia
• Spice
• LSD
• DMT

--Deliriants--

• DPH
• Nutmeg

--Dissociatives--

• Nitrous
• DXM

--Anti-Depressants--

• St. John's Wort

im a female who had sex during my 4th day of withdrawal from heroin....im worried i might be pregnant..i hope im not. Along with many others female opiate users, i've noticed that i wouldn't menstruate for usually however long i was strung out or so...so my question(should be very obvious) is how fertile are you after you had your period about a week and a half before and have unprotected sex while you are withdrawing from opiates??.............is it possible to get pregnant?? even if at your most fertile was when you were on ur period...

hi every1,jus wanted 2no wat d situation is wit d drought over here(in dublin?)i do b bac n forth from brum n dublin n wud apprecate any info,tanx,its not sumting id ask on facebook so tanx.....

Just came home and had a huge argument. I was hungry and havnt ate much in a few days...I cant eat on my own...and I drank the last few nights, not much, about a 3/4 bottle of wine tues, afull bottle wed's and Thurs and had 3-4 glasses last night. I feel so bored in the evenings I just cant handle it.
I am just feeling a huge loss and lack of purpose today. Im trying to keep my head above water but I feel lonely and without purpose. Also, I cant handle people at the moment because I dont feel like my sense of self is strong enough to manage.
Just wish I could transition through emotions properly but I just cant deal with them ATM. I cant handle feeling vulnerable, it makes me feel sick. I cant believe how out of control my anger was. I just dont want to eat much and i cant even manage that.
I feel like a burden on my parents. I am overly sensitive and cant get rid of it, I get too attached to everything and feel too needy. Im sick of hearing people act like their confident just because they get high. As if this makes them 'special' and important. Really dont know what to do or how I should be at the moment...if I could switch myself off I would. Have D txt'ing me how he misses me and I have to keep on saying to myself-he doesnt mean it, he only misses having a distraction, an object to make him feel warm. This sickens me too. Feel so old. Feeling sorry for myself and I cant stop it. Feel weak.

Preface: I covered my arrival in Delray Beach, Florida and ended in Tampa 28 months later in the early 1990s. It was during that short period that all 3 of my non-Iraeli children were born, the youngest of whom is now turning 15.

1995, Tampa, Florida: Tampa is a very interesting city. First of all practically no-Jews live there so I found it exotic since it was the 1st time in my life that I wouldn't be around Jews. Even during my 1 year in Thailand and Cambodia (1992) had not been without fellow Jews.

In the 1880s the town became a major producer of cigars. Needing experienced workers it heavily recruited Cubans (where as by 1945 a Cuban was very rare in Miami). Instead of native Cubans though recent Spanish immigrants to Cuba were the ones hired. At the same time New Orleans, across the Gulf of Mexico, was home to a burgeoning Sicilian immigrant population. Needing room to expand large groups of Sicilians made their way east to Tampa. The 3 groups, Cubans, Spanish and Sicilians quickly intermarried (about the only place in the US that this happened). Neighbourhoods like West Tampa and Ybor City (suburbs at that time) became somewhat homogenous and the locals, known as "Tampenos" (I don't have the correct font but pronounced "Tam-pay-nyos") developed their oen distinct form of Spanish, heavy on Sicilian vocabulary.

The architecture in those 2 neighbourhoods is EXACTLY like New Orleans with the "Shotgun Bungalows" (so named because all the rooms lined up in a row with doors all aligned so if one fired a shotgun through the front door and all doors were opened the shot will go straight through and exit out the back door!). The stores are built like those in the French Quarter of New Orleans as well. I enjoyed the environment. I also liked that unlike Delray, Tampa had a cold winter, I prefer cooler temps.

After I began my relationship with the mum of my daughter, my youngest child, I ran across a Puerto Rican guy I knew from New York. He was pulling out of the carpark of a West Tampa bakery when he saw me. Calling me over we greeted one another though we had talked a week before. I was finally off of opiate/opioids having been habituated to morphine in the army at age 17. By age 20 the army made me get on methadone (Israel doesn't criminalise addiction, it is regarded as a health issue, and since I got it from a combat injury I wasn't treated like a pariah. They did however make methadone mandatory for me). In Thailand I switched to heroin since it was widely available though methadone at that time was illegal there. In Delray I used whatever my relatives had but then quickly ran out and since then had been straight). Like the addict I had definitely become, there wasn't a single day that I wasn't preoccupied with finding opiates/opioids, but Tampa had none on the street. There were 2 methadone programmes with a total of 120 clients, all from the northeast apparently. I did NOT want methadone, even before I understood its chemical limitations I knew subjectively it wouldn't provide me with the euphoria all opiate/opioid addicts crave. I asked people I knew and it was this subject that my friend brought up as I stood at his car window.

One of his friends had begun dealing small weight, Colombian #4, chocolate brown powder. I was like a cartoon character, "WHAAAAAAT???, Let's go NOWWW." He haf 2 women with him snd told me to wait a few minutes he would drop them off at the other end of the project (West Tampa Homes). We then drove over to Ybor City, and pulled up outside one of those shotgun bungalows. 10 or 15 Puerto Ricans were hanging out and since I didn't know them he told me he would go fetch a sample. He took about 15 minutes but it seemed like 4 or 5 hours. Finally he came back and we pulled away. At his project flat he took me into the bedroom and closed the door. He was a freak for Salsa (an Afro-Carribean music) and had DJ Soundsystem speakers which he cranked up. Sittimg on his bed as I sat in a folding chair he carefully opened a corner of seran platic wrap. Tjat had been double knotted. Inside was a half gramme rock and I could smell that acetic anhydride (strong vinegar odour). I knew I would be feeling heaven in less than a minute. It is impossible to conjure up the emotion I fwlt, now, 16 years later and with as much opiates/opioids as anyone could ever wish for and yet my heart beats rapidly and my senses sharpen even now as I recall that sheer anticipation.

I offered him some and he wouldn't hear of it. He didn't like opiates/opioidsm I offered him a finder's fee, which strangely isn't as clear as my anticipation. I imagine I gave him a few 20s. I asked him for a razor, and of course he didn't have one but he did manage to find a utility knife. Using a dirty fucken utility knife I cut a piece off, maybe 50 mgs. I ground it by pressing a skillet over it and then chopping it with that utility knife. Finally small enough, I put it in a metal ladel, took a baby eye dropper full of water ontop, 4 times, it almost totally dissolved without heat, I swear I was hard. Cutting a piece off a plastic straw I insufflated 25mgs and WHOOOOOOOOOOM, "I'm home honey, how you been baby? I missed you."

To be continued...

While staying in Delray Beach I would always run into people from my times in New York. Since my visits to NY revolved around drugs it isn't difficult to predict which way my life would go. One such person was a Puerto Rican named "Fernando" whom I knew from Bushwick in Brooklyn. Suprised to see me we made plans to go down to Miami, or to be exact, Miami Beach. Though most of Miami is Cuban with a host of smaller Latino groups, Miami Beach (at least at that time) had a Puerto Rican "hood."

The following weekend we took the commuter train down to Miami and stayed at his brother's place. Also staying there was his brother's sister-in-law, a half-Jewish/half-white girl named Cindy, all of 16. Up until this point I had only ever touched a single girl, my 1st wife back in Israel. I had been divorced for 2 years already but having been kept busy in the army I didn't miss sex that much (well that isn't exactly true but I was busy). That night Fernando bought a few bottles of "Boone's Farm" watermelon and strawberry wine. There was cannabis and coke but I don't really do much of either. Still, I drank a few gulps to be sociable and by the next morning I had my first American lover.

I returned to Delray but every weekend would head down to Miami. Within 2 months she was pregnant. By the time my son was born 9 months later our relationship was over in all but name but she did give me my 5th child. Since Cindy's mum was Jewish my son would be Jewish under our Laws. I had the comic Jackie Mason's brother perform the ritual circumcision (brit) and felt that I would try to get custody soon to ensure he wasn't raised as anything but Jewish. In the end Cindy circumvented those plans by splitting with my son when he was 4 months old. I wouldn't see him again until he was almost 10 despite hiring detectives.

At that point I already had left my 3 jobs alone and was driving a lorry between Tampa and Dallas, Texas and to be closer to my terminal moved across to Tampa on the opposite coast of Florida. In Tampa I met a Puerto Rican girl named Luz and alas, I I had my first non-Jewish child, my 6th kid, a boy. I had a huge amount of guilt over my son by Cindy and in retrospect I believe I sought a another chance. I was able to become quite close to my Puerto Rican son but when he was 2 his mum married a 54 year old man and they moved to Puerto Rico. I rarely saw him until he was 8 and only 1 time a year after that because of moving back home to Israel.

Right after my son moved to Puerto Rico I met my daughter's mum, the illegal immigrant from Mexico. I had taken a local hauling job for Pepsi in between loads to Dallas. One day I was dropping off skids of soda and had gone into the super market I was delivering to to talk to the Pepsi Rep who was facing 12 packs (straightening the space on shelves). It was then that she smiled at me and I asked her how she was doing in Spanish (my Spanish is better than my English). She was suprised I spoke without an accent and we struck up a conversation.

She was an au pair working for the common law wife of a large scale coke smuggler whose front was 4 new car dealerships in Tampa. The woman, a stuck up white lady was racist with regard to relationships. She used to tell the girl not to be with me because I wasn't brown like the girl. I cursed the lady out and Santos, the Mexican girl, moved in with me. She started pressuring me to marry her, I suspect that it was so she could legalise her Immigration Status. I refused. Next she got pregnant on purpose. My 7th chil, my youngest, was a girl. Santos and I went our separate ways and she was forced to return gome to Mexico after the birth.

About 2 years ago she was able to secure a 10 year visa and so she now comes and goes. My youngest will be 15 and so its time for her Quincinera, as I mentioned in my previous entry. Her Puerto Rican brother and I will attend. My American son is now in Israel, he just entered the IDF making him my 4th child in the military. I am not looking forward to the Quincinera because apart from my daughter and her mum I won't know anyone (though 1 son will be with me).

When I look back I can't say I regret any of my children but I do regret ny lack of foresight in those days. Hindsight is 20:20 Vision as the saying goes.