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I feel like I lost two good people in my life. All over something nonexistent.

Dammit! Maybe, I am wrong (hopefully). Shit, I never met either of them but they are truly quality people and the respect I have for them both makes it even more of a shitty feeling.

Sometimes ya just sense things but, then again, my perceptions can't be trusted.

So, why haven't I reached out to discuss? Simple... I'm afraid the answer will be negative and it will finalize the loss (but not the love I feel).

I'm supposed to be learning/practicing acceptance. but then fear gets in the way which betrays my concept of faith.

The longer I wait to reach out, the less likely it is that I will so perhaps I better take some action. They aren't close-minded folks so what am I waiting for?

What a drag, man.
Ok, so my wisdom teeth are killing me , literally. I cannot get them out for another 3-4 weeks due to insurance issues. I cant sleep or even get outta bed. Ive been given vicodin, lortab, percocet, NOTHING HELPS, AT ALL. I dont wanna walk into the dentist demanding scripts because i know that will make me look like som drug fiend. This is not to get high or scam doctors, but what can i do to get a stronger opiate. Im thinking a low dose roxi possibly, ive heared of people getting it from dentists before and it doesnt seem like a far stretch to get it. I just do not know how i should approach the situation. I have x rays indicating houw messed up my teeth are and i cant get the procedure to remove the teeth done for close to a month. Any suggestions, experience, ideas, or insight will be greatly appreciated. Thanks !8o
Sun youre slackin yo. Fuck man, you got a job to do motherfucker!!!

You are supposed to come up early so I will conclude my day and go to sleep!
I was curious and got a hold of some nitrous and a whip cream dispenser. =D=D=D=D

WAAAAADAAAADAAADAAADAAADAAAAAAAAAA

Hehe while listening to an electro house, trance, and dubstep mix station on Pandora.

My little brother rolled me one of his perfect j's with this sour og he just nabbed up. I don't smoke often, as in like 5-6 times cause I always disliked the time dilation effect, especially at parties. I do, however, like to get a real nice buzz going when I have to stretch time to feel that relaxing sensation. I mean like more than 2 hits of any quality stuff and I'm at the very limit of comfort. Kinda wish I had a few friends over, but I have to leave in the morning to help my dad out at the race track, so I leave it for another day. Tempting though.

I'm a driver of a race car, and so is my dad. We go to events every couple months and race together, and just hang out having a great time or chillin when we aren't racing. Looking at all my friends I feel fortunate to have shared common interest with my father, especially a "cool" one like motorsports. My friends are always in awe when my dad pulls up in his car all modded-out and go-fast, and they always say "Dude!! You are so lucky! Your dad lets you drive fast cars and has one too!!!". Unfortunately, nobody knows his dark side.

When we are doing something he enjoys or on vacation or something, he's awesome. It's his work which I despise. He owns a manufacturing business and is constantly dealing with customers (like small retail shops) not paying up due to inability, or worse, skipping town when pay is due. Stressed out with small claims courts, lawyers, and a large accounts receivable, he brings that stress back home.

The problem is, he takes out his stress on the family. He finds little nit-picky things to blow up about, and makes a scene and gets himself all worked up for the littlest of reasons.

He used to smoke stogies, and probably since high school, but he quit maybe 15 years ago after I posted no smoking signs on every wall of the house when I was 9 or 10. The two weeks after he quit he was going through some serious withdrawal, and due to this and some motherly complaining he hucked a rice cooker across the kitchen. After those two or three weeks though, he was fine again. He doesnt get angry and break shit anymore, but he still gets worked up emotionally and physically and acts like this when he comes home from work some days. Sometimes he calls me just to pick a fight.

I understand why he feels that way because of the enormous amount of pressure he bears on his shoulders, but even then, I still don't believe our family should suffer when things are a bit outta wack. I mean I understand that we need money, and we have to take customers, but what good is a bad account that won't pay? I mean, there comes a point (if I remember from accounting or econ) that one has to stop taking in could-be bad accounts because then it would be detrimental to revenue.

Other than work, he's actually really fun to be with. He's kinda quirky and shy, but at the same time very outspoken, and covers his shyness well by laughing while doing things. Kinda like a clown with very good manners; He'll ask you very nicely and make sure to get your full approval before smashing a pie in your face and electrocuting you with a hand buzzer, all the while laughing. This is the dad I know, and I feel like he's slowly slipping away into his angry mode. Kinda wish I could help him be a bit more jolly, but that requires fixing the problems in his biz....which is rooted at his deepest level. He just too nice. Like a bomb with a long fuse, lit on the battlefield in the presence of enemies, but carried to post-war dominion, just to blow up at home.

lol yea.

random- Pandora just played 'I love my Sex' twice in a row. Seems like Pandora adores Benny right now. I definitely love my sex, thats for sure.

Got a micro refrigerator today too. The shit is the fits-6-cans type. Kinda cool hehe.
I'm trying to come up with things that both my gf and I enjoy. I like to read. She likes cats. So, I just heard about this on the local NPR radio station and thought it would be a way our interests might intersect:
BOOK SIGNING!
Ben Huh will be signing copies of our new book, Teh Itteh Bitteh Book of Kittehs

WHEN?
Thursday, October 14th, 2010, 7:30-9:30pm

WHERE?
Powell’s Books
1005 W Burnside
Portland, OR 97209
My gf is a fan of the popular cat-themed website called "I can Haz Cheezeburger" or something. The creator of the site is releasing a book based on the content of the website. I thought that, since my gf has just gotten back in town, I would take her to it and get her the book. She can hang out with the cat people while I go to the bookstore's coffee shop and read something else. We'll mingle together for a while as well - I'm not trying to give her the impression that I want to avoid her. That way, we'll be out together doing something we each like while giving each other some space.
I've been wanting to write something for weeks now... a short story, even a poem, but I just can't seem to do it. There's a thick fog in my mind, blocking out all the ideas floating around. Nothing I do can make the fog disappear. I hate this. :|
so, justin bieber. he's pretty gay. the radio keeps going "justin bieber BLOWOUT" and i was like they say that shit one more time im gonna listen to NPR instead, but then i was like, am i just following net hype, and being a hater, cuz ppl like what music makes them feel good, so now im all like, justin beiber is a stupid f****t, but i support your right to listen to that f****t ass shit
Chasing a dragon to feel my own mortality;
A predisposed failure - unknowingly.
So desperate to appease, these shadow's stalking me.
Yet, the faces of the well-known are frowning.

Onto this elusive path that I track night and day;
Into a vehement vortex - spiraling.
My mental sanity - frayed
After these years of abuse and self-mutilating.

It is I that have lost my own way...
I who has been swept under the waves
Beneath this ebbing undertow;
Deeper than I did ever mean to go.

And a blanket of blackness now covers me;
Emotions cut deep, but can not reach.
All the while, so desperate to appease
These shrouding shadow's stalking.

In this final breath I ask what it is that I have now?
Not one damn thing, but half-forgotten dreams.
Oh! This looming feeling of my own demise,
Discernment creeping over as I close my eyes.
I've always kept most of the bags / jars that my weed comes in at the dispensaries so I could always look back and see what strains I've smoked. Here is on on-going list of what I've smoked and any personal notes about that strain. Some have photos which have been added to this post as attachments.

  1. Purple Nepal (9/11)
  2. Blueberry
  3. Train-wreck
  4. Blue Deam
  5. Durban Poison
  6. White Widow
  7. Sunset Kush
  8. Flo
  9. Afghanica
  10. Hindu Kush
  11. I.S.S. (Island Sweet Skunk)
  12. Alaskan Thunderfuck (ATF)
  13. Jack Herier
  14. AK-47 x Northern Lights
  15. Purple Diesel
  16. Afgoooey
  17. Stevie Wonder
  18. Bubblegum
  19. Deathstar
  20. Macado x Ramulan
  21. Ramulan x Korean Big Bud
  22. Big Buddha Cheese (B.B.C.)
  23. MamaSan x White Widow
  24. NYC Sour Diesel
  25. Kong
  26. Blackberry
  27. Sweet Tooth
  28. Purple Erkel
  29. Sensei-Star
  30. Gigabud
  31. Pez
  32. Purple Cotton
  33. Spirit of 76'
  34. Powerhouse
  35. Da Vanci
God another Thursday life seems to be flying by right now. The weather gradually gets cooler the leaves are changing college football is being played. All I want is a fat shot of dope and maybe a little speed. Im going back to the city tonight get to do MDPV as soon as I get home then the quest for heroin begins. I feel excited yet fearful Niel Young is telling me about the damage im doing yet I dont seem to care. Smoking weed everyday has me in a hazy fog of rememberance am I 15 or 21? Or somewhere in the middle?

Its been a crazy 6 years but I wouldnt trade it for the world. I just hope I die soon cause I dont have the stregnth to fight this monkey its strangling me. Yet everytime that needle hits the skin I feel alive more alive then any of the other people at this school. As LSD opened my mind Heroin shall close it.
Elliot Smith
Coma kid high times
Tell me how you come to follow you
around where ever you go
Said I don't go, where I'm supposed go
And I don't go, really anywhere you know
Told me how hes driven by a curse, 'til
he kicked out into reverse
Said I don't go, where I'm supposed to go
And I don't go, really anywhere you know
I made up my mind, and I don't mind sayin so
I went to meet you at central square
When I couldn't find you there,
I went walking around the city some more

People watching with a cold blank stare
And I saw your face, in everyone I swear
Seems like I never get your kick quite right
I was walking slow to a dirty dive
I'm so sick and tired of
trying to change your mind
When it's so easy to disconnect mine
High times
High times
High times, yea I feel fine
High times
High times
High times, man I feel fine
Don't pick me up I'm fine right where I am
I don't go, where I'm supposed go
Where I'm supposed to go
Well where to begin.
Where does it begin where does it end, whose your real friend, at the same place again. I remember it came to me one time at the young age of 14 just beginning to realize the path that i was already set on althought i was only beginning to see it. it came in a dream and said "No End--No Beginning" and i wrote it down in a dream state aka-some kind of drug haze that i dont remember wat it was.

Sometimes I feel so tired of this circle , like i been here 1000 years doomed to repeat over and over one day after the next, same game different name. I can remember to the first time i was introducted to my one tru love, fast forward rewind like it was yesterday, the feeling of anticipation in the air as i cruised thru unfamiliar territory while the sun light began to heat up that hot summer day, zig zag waves of distorted air rippling up over the sidewalk like it was cookin somethin, scene hazy and shimmering like the middle of the hood was the promised land.

Or fast forward to 19. Clean, happy, drinkin hennesey and tanqueray and puffin L's barely a thought of those little folded papers in my mind after I said i let it go. I was 19, and all of a sudden....wat happened? Here I am about to turn 22, cold n old n blue, wat to do?

I been in the places that feels like i have crawled to the bottom of the under belly of my soul. places no person should ever have to go. places that the numbness kept me from processin in my mind, broken stoned n out of time....scrapin the bottom and wantin nothin but to fall further still. I am young but i feel like i been since the beginning of time. when some galaxy far away exploded and a little piece of me shot thru space somehow landing on a green and blue mass called earth like the dinosaurs are in my bones and my mind knows more than i think i know.

I travel thru my mind all the time plottin thinkin, nickels n dimes, fearin the darkness of wat i might find, knowin my fate was sealed as soon as i took that turn, smoked the first crack hit got my first mouth burn. time stands still when i pass that folded bill, the ticket to salvation internal medication. A silent red rose blooms in a golden sky. whose worried now? Na not I. I hold it steady....Am I ready? Of course, i think, as I hit a home run...far past the crowds....far past the sun, im heaven and hell all rolled into one, dont know if its ended or just begun. I can fall n fall and still it aint enough, retreatin deeper lower slower , put to sleep by a ghetto lullaby thinkin how far did i come. i just want to rest my bones a minute. too bad i didnt think of that before i did it, before i hit it, couldnt quit it.....

I feel like im the moment , or like i am eternal, cant pick which and I aint sure when i make that switch. im the steam of your breath while you take that long walk to cop, block by block, in the cold with the knowledge of wat waits for you burnin in your soul. and i am the street you walk, walked by a thousand before you and a thousand more once you are gone i live on.

But wait I had somethin else to say. and it died in my throat as i faded away.

I dont always live in the imaginary. I see the cold world just like any. I see the clock just like you, another hour, the wait is thru, i pray for the strenth to pass another day, as I plan just one more time how Ima shoot my life away.

you speak n i dont hear you I am too far gone, where the darkness is velvet and the silence is warm, i live for that moment i feel my heart drop, my eyelids fall shut and everything stops. I know its all lies but proudley I stand. I know they cant catch me nobody can. I play the game just as good as the next did as I skip thru the garbage and sadness and wreckage. This is my life I think. thats it this is me. and the warm rush of emptiness is all that I see.

I imagine it all while i go thru the motions. preparin my potion, my ointment, soul lotion. A single tear droppin like rain down my window pane, into the cooker and into my vein.

Of all the thousand ways to tease and please....why is it that Im always dreamin dreams of disease.
hello im looking for some advice i take dhydrocodeine 30 gs tablets 300 mg a time with 10 mg diazepam and three cyclizine 50 mg tablets to lift mood un chill out my query is i also take MST-CONTINUOS tablets 10 mg 2 times a day been on these about 4 months only take the prescribed dose 2 a day take more of the dhydrocodeine than prescribed but my question is this how many mst 10 mg tablets would i need 2 take to chill like i do with DHC 30 mg tablets if so better if possible and also could i use cyclizine and diazepam with these like with DHC and at which dosage?I have been taking 100mgs at least of codeine for 2 years any advice would be most appreciated thankyou :)
I'm a dumpster diver. I've found a good part of my wardrobe in the trash or in boxes along the roadside. A while ago, in fact, I found the piece of clothing that would be the genesis of today's mis-adventure. It is a black T-shirt with a Kope Luwak logo and a picture of a spotted civet cat pooping out coffee beans into a cup. "Good to the last dropping" is the caption. The meaning remained a mystery until somebody stopped me on the sidewalk and asked me if I'd ever had kope luwak. I hadn't yet bothered to look up the meaning of those words so the stranger obliged: Wild civet cats on an island in indonesia eat coffee beans and then poop them out. Farmers gatehr the beans and use them to brew coffee. Hmmm, sounds interesting. I asked him where I could get some. He didn't know. Just not here. Intrigued, I began seeking it out. No luck finding anybody who sells in the Bay Area, but I found one place in Portland where I am now staying. Legare's.

Putting the rest of this one in NSFW tags due to scatological references.

NSFW:

Listening to GG Alin and the Murder Junkies streaming from the Geek-o-Sphere.

I finally got the Infinite Jukebox working (mostly). It fills half the room. The last of it was cleaning circuit boards with Duster and acetone, 4 hours of fighting IRQ conflicts, and several days of scanning IDv3 tags. But I still need to figure out how to set up a distributed MySQL database.


Coffee disaster.

I tried to make my own coffee this morning. My gf usually has it ready before I get out of bed (6 or 7 am), but she is staying with her sister for a few days. So I thought I would try to make my own. I had a pound of Philz coffee beans. Philz Coffee, along with Blue Bottle, have the best coffee (that I've found) in San fRancisco. I ground some in the electric grinder. So far so good. But then, the 1st thing to go wrong: I forgot to put water in the coffee machine. So, without water in the boiler to keep the temperature below 212F, the machine overheated and burned the ground coffee in the metal basket. I must have really been hungover from the kratom I ate last night -- I didn't realize my mistake until I smelled it burning.

Well, I thought the grounds would still be OK. They're only scorched a little. I mean that's how StarBucks beans smell all the time. They just call it a "super dark roast" or something. So I put water in the machine adn brewed that coffee, but what it eventually produced wasn't drinkable. Then I remembered that I'd been wanting to try kope luwak for a while, so I thoguth this might be a good day to try it.

So, I changed shirts and put on my cat shit coffee T-shirt and rode my bike to Legare's. Legare's is an Itallian style coffee shop and is the only coffee shop I have ever been to that has such an extensive selection of hard-to-find (in the US) beans... I ordered a cup. $15. For one cup. That's a lot, but it's been a quest and I would try it once, and if I liked it, maybe have it again on special occasions. It was brewed in a french press. I drink the coffee: Smooth body. Earthy and aromatic. Holds itself together.

Coffee, among it's many wonderful health benefits, has the property of stimulating the movement of one's bowels. Drink it daily and it helps keep you "regular." The ride home started smoothly except for a little rain, but right after I crossed the Ross Island Bridge over the Willamette River, my back tire went flat. So I locked my bike to a rack in front of a nearby restaurant, and walked 2 or 3 miles toward home. It was during the last mile or so when my bowels throbbed and spasmed threatening disaster...... I slowed down to a stiff-legged walk to try to hold it back and not jar anything loose.

à cul de foirard toujours abonde merde (Relais. Gargantua. I, 9). [a filthy asshole never lacks for shit.] I'm not sure how to relate this quote to the current entry, but I remembered it while I was doing that disgraceful stiff-legged walk down the city streets on my way home. 10 more minutes of walking and it's oozing out. Yeah people, I pooped my pants today. It was like toothpaste sliding down my leg. I'm getting close to home. Maybe 1/2 mile and it's starting to burn from sliding to where I had chaffing on my inner thighs from a run yesterday. And the friction. It feels like bits of sand are being ground in down there. Maybe it's gritty bits of undigested kratom leaf rubbing themselves into my chaffed skin. When this has happened on long runs (the reason I try to remember to take a dump before I leave the house). Because of wehre I usually run now - on trails in the woods or near the woods or bushes or places with toilets, I can take care of the problem when it comes up. But here, there is no place to go, no trees, secluded bushes, restaurants. All resedential here. Get to the covered patio behind my house. Now, I cant' make it into the house. There's some old newspaper in the corner. I drop my pants but I can't even get it on the newspaper. I crap all over the concrete instead. It seems to explode as it comes out. There's shit splatter and spray all over the place: the cement patio, some made it to the newspaper, on my pants, on my legs, on my hands, on the wall, on my other bike. What a filthy mess. shobble to a bucket and expliode again. I had to take a shower and change clothes.
Dear Bluelight,

I am alive. Bored, but alive. I am sane again, and am doing as well as expected.

Finally, I am getting new glasses and will begin driving again. Florida is ridiculously docile as far as night life goes. Don't want to wake grandma... And you can't get anywhere without a car. I miss Boulder, immensely. I miss the parties, The Beta (my stomping grounds of glamor), and the over-all relaxed and considerate nature of my friends and comrades.

I am uncertain to whether it is the sun, the water, the limestone, or other explanation to which the social nature of Floridian folks is down right retarded. I have had few intellectually challenging conversations outside of my mother (a member of Mensa) and a few polka dotted occurrences at random.

I am a bit of a prisoner at my parents home. No where to go, to be, and lackage of transportational opportunity (one car 4 people). I have one friend, locally, which when he has off from work we get f00bared on oc, roxy, ish or whatever.. decent, but not sustainable nor something i do every week. Projectile vomit from over-doing it has be noted, and should be avoided. I am not one that likes to stealth vomit, nor explain why the washer is running at 4 in the morning. Thankfully, there are lots of canals, and make excellent puking receptacles. Temporary temperance to my bordem, hopefully my financial aid appeal will be approved so I can continue my degrees in january. I am not certain what I would do if I am not approved...This deeply concerns me, as I have learned much, gained perspective and numerous insight to the last two years.

All I got is time on my hands, which lends itself to heaviness of thoughts, and realizing my sadness. Tons of self criticism and seeing how I could have avoided my mistakes or not... you know what I mean.

I really need positive things in my life right now, and pray my 2 page Reinstate-me requiem, ergo; I am way more awesome now and have my shit together and wont screw up again because I am no longer in a messy relationship and finally have a plan while actually growing the fuck up -paper to the appeals board is approved
Paradise, of course being drugged as well as surrounded by others addicted. I've known there was something wrong with me for many years. I know of NO activity whatsoever that even remotely comares to the lust blood ride of disgust. Fuck I'm tired. Crystal methamphetimine, especially injected I.V. if I remember correctly reading a thread on BL form raises dopemine levels up to 1200 x the spike from the spike ha ha. Peter the funkin pumkin eater ah fuck it sorry gota grab zzzz y'all.
It's a shame that it's come to this. Secretly, for the past 4 months or so, I've been posting to Bluelight with nothing but a Blackberry. Posts containing multiple pictures had to be relayed to MS Office first because of the difficulty of having multiple tabs on Blackberry's browser. This problem is fixed with Opera Mini, but Opera mini's cursor is just impossible to control without getting very frustrated.

Anywho, I used to have an awesome pc. Awesome. Awesome monitor, too. I had over a terabyte worth of total hard drive space on two 7200 rpm drives, 8 gb of ram, an ATI HD card that could run anything you threw at it at ridiculous resolutions, m-audio midi controllers for sound production (2). Basically, my computer was an erection that could be controlled with a keyboard and mouse. Also, I had an awesome Asus laptop that I would often use at the same time.

So, I decided that it would be a good idea to sell all of those things for less than $700 total in order to buy a few weeks worth of pills. At the time, it was a fantastic decision.

Now I realize that I am too irresponsible to have nice things. So instead of trying to recreate my old system, I bought a used HP pc with a monitor from a guy who was using it as his workstation at HP. It has a P4 2.8, 1.75 gb, 40 gb hdd, internal graphicsn 3 pci slots - no agp, and a 15 inch lcd monitor running xp pro.

Because I'm limited in my upgrades due to almost everything about this computer, I am getting a pci firewire card, a multi-card reader that plugs into a usb slot, a geforce pci card with dual vga, and an extra set of usb ports via a pci card. That eats up all three of my pci slots. Regarding rebuilding a sound station to replace my old one, I opted not to use one of the pci slots for a soundcard because I will be able to get an external firewire card since I'm installing firewire ports.
Cigarettes. We all know about them. We all know about the negative health risks and we all know how much society hates it. But, why? is the question. What was once socially acceptable, even encouraged only as little as 50 years ago has turned southbound. It's now an "abomination", and "disgraceful", and even "unethical" to smoke cigarettes in the 2000s. And sure, we're partially on the right track, I'm not saying every man, woman, and child should start lighting up Kent's filterless, 2 pack a day habit; that would be disastrous of major proportions, and I am by no means advocating the smoking of Cigarettes. It's a decision you yourself have to make. Anyways, with that being said, lets get to the point. What I'm trying to say is, in this time focused around existentialism, freedom, and the focus of the individual, cigarette smokers have more pressure, and are almost as stigmatized as the archetypal Caucasian bourgeois Father figure (for the lulz). The Western world love it's decadent individualism, they wanna stand out and live their life like they're in control! And ah-salute! God bless you, that's fine! But what about the smokers? Why is it, that, every time someone mentions cigarettes some jerk off has to say "cigarettes kill bro, you're gonna get lung cancer, and aids, and diabetes, and hepatitis C if you keep smoking, man" right.....as if....as if I didn't already know that! Tell me one more time, the message wasn't quite clear the first 10000 times.

Smokers are labeled as reckless, bored, stressed out, unclean, disregard for hygiene, dissonant, weak at making independent decisions, etc, et cetera! Not to mention they blow the whole lung cancer thing into your face. It's like the uncultivated heads of those who are hard for the normative-ethical ways are laughing at the cigarette smokers. But what's hilariously ironic is that all those bored determinists have their own vice, and their own deficiency. It's immoral to devalue a human being based on their vice, and even worse than to make them feel ashamed for it.

We as humans have always hated a particular. The Puritans hated homosexuals, the KKK hated blacks, etc. But in the midst of these terrorist events, everybody was smoking, and damn well everybody enjoyed it. But as concepts such as homosexuality, feminism, religious freedom and most importantly individualism has molded itself into society, we are now haters towards cigarette smokers. What was once accepted and established, during a time of moral and humanistic confusion, has now flipped to the opposite of this! We accept those concepts, yet reject cigarettes. I know there might not seem to be a correlation at first, but bear with me. It appears to be almost symbolic! We had disregard for actions not in conformity of our own values, and the aforementioned concepts of humanity were prejudiced and discriminated upon, for their involuntary qualities (skin color, sexuality). We've now come to become the master of the whip, the slave-owner who strikes down the cigarette smoker because he is doing an action which is voluntary and harmful as opposed to voluntarily harming someone for an involuntary quality. It's symbolic for cleansing, and the hate on the cigarette smoker is just to turn the back on the accepted fashions and values of the 1950s. Like the housewives in ancient Greece, to the homosexuals in Volendam, and the Negros of Mississippi were ashamed and guilty, and felt humiliation because of their "destined" roles, the cigarette smoker now takes their place, the smoker now feels a sense of self-pity, and insecurity, and undermined. The justification lies in "you chose to smoke, you chose to harm yourself, therefore I should not respect your existentialistic decisions as a human being." The generally held view is that "the ends justifies the means", which is hypocritical in its own right. See, the mass media, and tyrants who use crowd manipulation tactics to cut down on cigarettes ultimately instill the notion that they're intentions are good, good for the benefit of the economy and population. By using commercials and advertisement which make the smoker feel guilty and ashamed is cut their sense of self control. Commercials which show a mother on her death-bed, caused by lung cancer, which the precursor ultimately had to have been "the horrendous cigarettes" her children all around, mourning and crying, and enraged at Big Tobacco for allowing this. Nobody seems to pay attention, nor care about the other medical factors and physiological predisposition which could have led up to this woman in her cancer bed. Others on the cigarette packaging of some 5 year old boy and with the message "second hand smoke kills your children" (which, not to mention the notion that 2nd hand smoke is such a massive killer was actually proven false). Yet, sadly, that all who see who have any humanity will be guilty, and ashamed, led into moral conflict upon actions. It's a callous psychological maneuver. The worst part is, how can there be an opposition? How can the opposition to this be considered moral? All who oppose will be ostracized. Every defense the smoker tries to put forth, every reason for their smoking habit is ultimately rejected. The motives for smoking are just shrugged off as "rationalizing" and "justifying" a harmful action, and the smoker is often labeled "in denial" about their habits. The Mass Media who fuels this fire plays out their motive very well, and through their seductive, rhetorical, and manipulative ways, they can get anything they want. Unfortunately, nobody seems to pay attention to their mass hypocrisy and quasi-psychopathic ways. 3rd world countries, the problem with alcohol, drug prohibition, the fallacy of pharmaceuticals, overcrowded prison, poverty, national debt, the list goes on, and on, and on, and yet people still believe the media is on their side. The undeniable proof of my argument, which is essentially the exception which proves the rule, that the media, the core of entertainment, during the revolution of television of cinema sensationalized the action of smoking. They gave it elegance and an aesthetic appeal which seduced all following generations. They did so because it benefited themselves. It was the profit and publicity in the cigarette industry, the marketing and economic profit. Now, science has used it's power to caution people of cigarette, and how it's a risk if they approach it. The media, of course has spun this around and like they had made millions of off cigarettes, they are currently making more and more money off the "anti smoking" products. There's hundreds of anti-smoking products, and they're held in the same regard as cigarettes. Their purpose is profit. It's how the fat-cats, brass hats, and wall street executives maintain their sense of control and sustainability. It's what they do. Bobby Fisher played Chess, Mozart wrote music, Farmers farm, and Smokers smoke.

I'm beginning to ramble, so let me conclude with this: Cigarette smoking, like all voluntary actions are pursued to attain some good. This good might not be good in your eyes, or even mine, and it might not seem physically or physiologically good, but it is good to the person who pursuits the action. It gives them a sense of control and confidence. In an existentialistic world where we think we're in control, smoking, like all other actions give the individual a sure sense of control. A sense of doing what they want to do. We who stigmatize them are no better than the slave master, and the Christian Puritan whom we've all grown to despise. We have little control, but we should be fair to do what we want. As long as we don't harm another party, and as long as we know the risks involved for our actions, we should be free to smoke, do drugs, read the news paper and sip a nice cup of Joe. It's got nothing to do with the risks, or the benefits. It's about the quality, and the love of our decisions. We feel much guilt about feeble and nonsensical things, why should this be one of them? Remember: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.





I wrote this strung out after a night long stimulant binge. Please forgive my disorder and possibly incoherence. It's something I intuitively felt requisite to post, regardless of the cognitive and physical deficiency I felt when writing.
i dont want you to fucking order me a pizza or grab me a soda from downstairs. i dont care if its alright if i can have a friend over today. i just wanted you to be fucking nice once in my whole goddamn childhood. i wanted you to stop fucking yelling at me all those times i was cutting and having panic attacks. i wanted you to just maybe give a fuck about how much you yelled at me for literally nothing. why the fuck is it my problem if your jobs frustrating, i love listening to people tell their problems, but from as early as i can remember up until the day i moved out, i remember being petrified of you coming home from your business trips. all you would do was yell, judge, drink, and stare hatefully. i couldnt fucking take it as a little kid and im sure as hell not gonna fucking take that as an adult. this is why i never come home and visit you fuck and this is why i stay silent and vacant as much as possible around you.

---nobody
18 days clean and I already am experiencing HUGE noticeable differences in my life. Surprisingly, I'm not plagued with the obsession to use drugs this time around. Maybe it really isn't that surprising, after all.

I was asked when I came back to NA, 'What are you going to do different this time?'. I struggled for a week with that simple question and I really didn't know. I believed I worked hard at staying clean those 9 months and 25 days and the simple fact of the matter is that I CHOSE to use (I actually forced myself to get high on that day that lasted over 3 months)

I now realize that I AM doing things different. I'm hanging out with other people in NA. People with decent amounts of clean time. I'm following suggestions regardless of comfort level and I speak on the phone with numerous addicts on a daily basis.

I feel good. I've put some weight on. I'm helping others when I can. I'm somewhat responsible and I actually feel okay inside my own skin.

When I'm using, I'm a piece of shit that does things that go against my own beliefs. I hurt people. I steal. I manipulate. I'm suicidal. I only care about me and getting my next 'get high'

Shit, when I'm using I am a broken down, shriveled up, weak coward.

Today I mowed my parents lawn, and dragged chopped up stumps from a chainsawed tree to the curb. Later on, I went to a meeting.

After the meeting me and my boy Raul went to this coffee bar in Philly called Expresso Yourself (yeah, I'm saying the name because the place is struggling and they could use a plug). I had only been there two other times and its a really nice place.

This coffee bar has meetings in the basement and has open mike nights, karaoke and live performances upstairs throughout the week.

What makes the place special is that everyone that frequents the spot is in some sort of 12 Step fellowship and it gets PACKED.

Its real nice to go somewhere where I don't have to pretend, where I don't have to strut the 'tough guy strut'. I can be me in a safe environment.

After about an hour at Expresso Yourself, Raul and I went to a dude's 20th anniversary in North Philly. They had rented out a club and there was food, music and dancing. I only knew about 4 people there out of perhaps 200 but it was nice.

Ya know what's strange? North Philly is one big fucking ghetto. Natives frequently call certain areas 'The Badlands' (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philadelphia_Badlands). I used to cop in The Badlands and I was not triggered or plagued with the desire to use regardless of how close I was to the corner that I am quite fond of.

Its real simple there are really only two choices for me....

I can get with this (a life of being okay with me) or I can get with THAT (a life of misery and and progressive degradation)

Yeah... fuckin' hell... I'm gonna stick with THIS!
I recently stopped taking my bupropion (Wellbutrin) as I was finding that it wasn't really working for me any more. So I've been off anti-depressants completely for a few weeks, and my mood has been getting worse and worse ever since. A lot of it is probably rebound depression from stopping it so suddenly. My psychologist at the drug & alcohol service suggested trying venlafaxine (Effexor), and I asked my doc for a prescription yesterday, but apparently it needs a special authority which could take a week or more to process.

I've grown pretty disillusioned with anti-depressants... I've been on fluoxetine (Prozac), citalopram (Cipramil/Celexa), bupropion (Wellbutrin), and none of them seemed to really help. Part of me thinks that there must be an anti-depressant out there that actually works for me, and the other part doubts anything will help. Meth/amphetamine seems to be the only thing that significantly lifts my mood, but of course that's only a temporary fix, and the comedown and withdrawals only make me feel worse. Still, I'll give the venlafaxine a try... if it works, awesome! If it doesn't, it'll be another anti-depressant to cross off my list. :\
I go to a catholic school and thursday was the day the school attends church. But obviously i’m not going to go so i met up with my homegirl and we went to a park nearby the school and find outselves a table. There was already a few people at the park, sitting inside and on a bench just outside. We don't care if we know what were doing so we roll our j. I knew the kids sitting in the park and they smoked too so they asked if we wanted to pitch on a blunt and were like sure. So they go to pick up but while they do we smoke our own joint.

When we're done we just chill and wait for the other guys. They return and so they start grinding their dank and were all talking blahblahblah. My girl is sitting on the table and she's the only one facing the street. And while we all have our shit out in the open shes like GUYS THE COPS in a whisper and were like fuck and we casually put our shit away. They all light up cigarettes to look casual and we separate. Me and my friend sit somewhere else and the other 4 people sit somewhere else.
The police start to question the kids sitting outside the park but we're can't hear what theyre asking. My 4 friends try to leave the park but the police said 'dont leave just stay there untill were ready to question you' and were all like shit.

They were questioned first cause they were right beside the enterance. They said 'the neighbours called in to complain about kids smoking marijuana and cigarettes in a parket, and you are trespassing. so what are you doing here? why arnt you in school?' etc,etc. The kids gave attitude back to the police which is the number one rule of what NOT to do when confronted by police. Then they finished by getting all their names and addresses and phone numbers.

Then they approached my friend and i and they didnt hassle us. They just asked for our information and said 'were not saying it was you, but the neighbours called in because they could smell marijuana and cigarettes and this is a childrens park' blahblahblah. Because we were polite and respectful they probably thought it was the other four kids, when it was actually me and my friend. hahahah.

My friend and i ditched everyone, and didn't want to continue with the original plan cause it would be too bait with 6 people, and the police were already in the area so we didn't want to take another chance.
turned 46 tuesday i think it was? am getting older and older but i dont mind as long as i think i look fucking HOT!!!!! I do now---although was the most insecure person until age 40 regarding that. Now, even though I'm well past middle age technically, and I sure as fuck don't have the same youthful body I did at 18, 20, 26, hell even 32, or 38, ironically enough at a much older age, and heading furiously faster than I can believe towards half a century haha, have never felt more sexy and secure with my body or age in my entire life. Obviously, that's what people meant when I recall hearing middle aged or senior cit women---even if I thought fat or ugly---is a blessing of becoming older. Our attitudes change & tend to not sweat the small stuff quite as much as teens, and women in their 20's do.

I wish I had the same physical, or slightly less gravitational deal goin on in my abd---exercise or not----i tell u this---even more than age, it was the humiliating experience of having been a size 22 at 240 lbs----really fat---that put my shit in perspective. Docs office said 149 lbs, I guess I'm a size 8, but wear 10. I'm not the hottest babe on earth, but I feel sexy---and I felt disgusted and sad over being fat after kicking a dope habit of 25 years---cleaned up 2 years completely----loved the spiritual, well most of the emotional work that doing the writing of Step 4 in NA a fearless moral inventory---which was very eye opening---

it hurt terribly that I had traded one addiction---food---for another & suffered heavy consequences, and 4get the looks, the borderline diabetes, the low back, HORRIBLE foot pain with the flat feet I have, then later the havoc the tramadol wreaked causing me chronic fatigue 24/7. I do know I am still a sick woman. Anyone that puts a needle in her arm 4 nights a week suggests issues---even if half of it is in fact medicinal that keeps ADD in check, chronic fatigue that the Tramadol started and left me stuck with----as well as being back on my Rx painkillers----although both meth IV and pills----are limited to 120 pills month----meth a gram to maybe gram and a half a week if that----for the money and having to report to work.

I hadn't until what 2 weeks ago at most finally started getting the return of a wicked sex drive---that incidentally started up again after having been deprived from my painkillers mixed with speed----and then reunited with them again. Good fucking GOD why so horny after all these years loaded or sober? My friendships I've had life long success with when desired, but the sex, romance either or----the man woman thing has always been tragic train wrecks. My longest "relationship" was my first love of 4 years with a manic depressive asshole half the time whom I met at age 14 on phone, 15 in person and lasted until I was barely 19....he had finally gone off the deep end and committed violent murder on one 80 something lady---& a brutal rape, torture, multiple stabbings in his grandmothers vagina----if the homicide detectives were to be believed.

She refused to press charges & because of a technicality on the murder case of the other woman---as well as his rich mother's money who always married rich men (five) walked after serving only what 9 months? 18 months? I can't remember, but I had been both relieved and horrified. Horrified because he needed to be locked away----& that I had loved a monster though I never knew he'd be THAT evil, but relieved as fuck I was not going to have to be grilled on the stand in court as a witness for the prosecution because I knew the defense would of brought up the weird/violent sex he sometimes demanded, the embarrasing details, yet I stayed with that man. My character would have been made to be on display and looked upon as a girl that deserved what she got----my only saving grace the fact that I had been 15 first time had sex with anyone---him---and even in the 80's a man 13 years older having sex with/abusing a minor was not only a severe offense punishable for up to 20 years I was told, but I was still, after all a "child."

I knew the abuse was wrong, but how confused and how insecure I had been about myself! If I didn't have a man, something was wrong with me. And, I did love him. He hadn't always been so cruel. He could be the most tender, sweet lover/friend that would hold me, wipe away my tears & he had been vulnerable with me at times. He wasn't on drugs except with other people had them since he refused to work, but was quite adept at making others, me included feel like a cheap ass selfish bitch for not sharing ALL which was most of my dope with him at an income of $3.35/hr or $3.50/hr. He was always either extremely depressed, elated as fuck, or watch out---the violent monster abusive side.

I had had so many confusing intense feelings during those years, always the inferiority complex obviously, in spite of having been pretty like my own mother had been---but really thought I was ugly & held contempt for my body being 150 lbs at 5'7" instead of the 135 lbs that forever eluded me. I wanted to be rail thin, like the media said beautiful women should be, but food was everywhere and that was my preview of things to come years later as an addict----only to drugs, each one more intense, strong than the last. Cocaine, snorting had been the first drug I'd gotten into trouble with, not legally, but the need, the finances, finally the kick until it no longer worked for me making me kick it for good, which was easy after the 3 days of feeling crap.

Next came crank although, still only heavy partier at most, then came the pain pills a very dark period from the time I knew this time REALLY hooked at 26---& in big trouble. I had quit work at 28 and pretty much had one big black out, well 6 months at least. I expected to be dead at age 33 for 2 many pills, but one night after feeling so worthless went into an empty church and begged God out of a desperation I never knew I could summon---and yelled, cried, screamed God if it be your will let me die, go to prison, live in misery, or free me of this trap its 2 big for me. I can't fight it anymore.

2 weeks later I got arrested for forging my own scripts something I'd been doin 2 yrs maybe 3 and slept as much as possible. Oblivion was the need I had which the pills made possible. Looking back I can't believe I managed to escape hurting or killing others cause I thought at times I was perfectly fine to drive. I really had NO idea I was in no way. The meth had been taken away, causing the downward spiral into depression and suicide wish. My obsession wasn't removed with the pills, but it WAS however cut back by 2/3rds & then 4 yrs later I got hooked up with first diet pills that I took as Rxd in order to get the think body I felt denied----finally crystal meth.

The meth was the most fun, but also the most dangerous because again, as an exotic dancer/escort sought approval over and over for my looks from others---it was just never enough. I had a rocky up/down big time roller coaster ride with the meth. Although fun, I kept getting into trouble because of blowing off jobs tweaking. Wow trip down memory lane. Getting clean & sober 2 years came about after age 40 and I had simply been tired of having to spin my wheels chasing the drug, always being broke, always having a fucking need for drugs, but the worst was the law. I had been forced into Prop 36 eventually & resented it like hell.

The obsession did get removed after I asked God---once again cops intervened---forcing me to dry out 17 days in jail but after 11 days it was simply gone. That just doesn't happen, so I took that as a miracle. The NA program brough me relief from active addiction, the steps showed me things I did without even being aware I was in the wrong even though I THOUGHT most of the time I was right. This was concerning my relationships with other people---and again once I started to see why----the cruel daily put downs at school daily grades 1-6 & told I was a retard for my learning disability, dyslexia, everyone thought I was stupid.

Then when I started the work force at 17, I was always being told and often fired for being "too slow" this b4 becoming heavily addicted.....hell up until 24 I was mostly sober at work. I couldn't understand why no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't process and learn as fast as others. Then there was the 15 lb overweight issue, not being thin enough, pretty enough, able to attract guys----but rarely the ones I wanted. I wasn't pretty or thin enough, or successful enough in my early, hell my entire 20's. I was afraid so the men I wanted somehow I was convinced knew I was a zero and not pretty/thin enough besides.

...More
The gf is gone to help her sister across town. She said she will be gone for about 1 week. And I feel like a load has been taken off my mind. Yesterday, I was thinking about what to do during my freedom for the evening: ride my bike to China Town and try to cop, go for a long run, eat some kratom.

The kratom store is only a few blocks away and I get along with the people who work there. China Town, on the other hand, is a couple of miles away through traffic and the only people I see selling anything are assholes. So, I decided to go to the kratom store. I got some kratom for myself and a bag of catnip for the cats. I swallowed some purple capsules of kratom extract and would follow it with powdered leaf. I added water to about 6 grams (eyeballed) of the powdered leaf, stirred it, and took a swallow. I gagged. It is one of the most disgusting things I've ever tasted. I held my nose shut with one hand, held my breath, and finished the last few swallows. I drank a 1/2 glass of sweet orange juice to try to counter the extreme bitterness of the kratom aftertaste. Then I dry heaved for a moment but managed to keep down the drug. Jankem (a gas made from fermenting raw sewage supposedly huffed by Zambian street children) probably doesn't taste this bad.

While doing this, Elooise Cat had torn open her bag of catnip, scattered piles of it on the floor and was rolling in it and eating it. I went to my desk to do some reading. Every few minutes, Eloise, now crazey from the catnip, would walk up to me, rub against my ankle purring, then when I reached down to pet her, she would hiss and try to bite. Reminds me of my gf. At 1/2 hour after eating the kratom, getting very warm, numb, and itchy. I have a lot of entergy.

So I wanted to burn it off and play some Grand Theft Auto, a video game. It's a car-driving game, mostly, where you play quests to win a race or kill a crime boss. I can't get past this one quest called "Big 'n' Veiny." In it, a "spank-head" (spank is the name of a fictional narcotic in the game) has stolen a crime boss's (El Burro) shipment of donkey porn magazines titled "Big 'n' Veiny.' Your job is to track down the spankhead, run him over with your van, and return the magazines to the publisher, El Burro. This should be easy since a trail of magazines spills out of the open back of his truck as the "spanked-out" thief drives to his hideout. You follow the trail of magazines as you drive a van through downtown Vancouver or wherever it is set. But the catch is that you have to beat a fast timer in heavy traffic. I've tried dozens of tiems, but even when cheating, I can't beat it.

Anyway, had to quit because the fast, panning game movement was making me need to barf. I had to lie down right there on the floor by my desk so my stomach would settle. After a few minutes, I felt better and got up to the bathroom. Strangely, I had the impression that one of the gangsters from the game had gotten into the house and was following me, always standing ni the shadows or the periphery of my vision so I could only catch brief glimpses of him. Then I took a quick shower, went to bed. Didn't sleep for several hours. It was mostly going in and out of half-waking dream sequences in a very warm, numb, peacefu,l and pleasantly snug place.

Today, I feel sick to my stomach from my kratom hangover. My gut is bloated and tender, and my head hurts. Just looking at the computer screen makes me queasy. I'm going to make some coffee and see if it will make me feel better.
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