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so it's been week three i assume that i've been ''couch surfing'', since i've been here i've done more dilaudid and smoked more crack more then my life time, and thats a lot of crack.
on the real side, when i first got here i was at bottom zero or rock bottom, i was playing my guitar in 5points b'ham south (music and bars side of town) not the best place in the world because tons of homeless people stay around here and pan handle like fucking crazy, i think just walking around 5points south ur going to be asked for a dollar maybe three times, if not more. they are going right to the crack house down the street to spend the money.
so i'm in 5 points playing my guitar for beer $ and i'm guessing around 8pm or so my friend saw me all scruffy and with my guitar in onehand and skateboard in the other, asked if i wanted to crash with him. i was still working my job at arby's when we met, so when i ''moved-in'' with him he took me to work n shit. we went to a AA meeting that night, and went back to his place. he said he didn't have any power, just running water. so it gets kinda dark at night.
on day 2 he came home(his aprtment) with some dilaudid aka k4's. he was in his room talking n shit and sorta hinted that he had something, dilaudid is my doc, so talking about that, not but 5mins after the talk he walked in his den and gave me a k4. and well since then it's been a everyday after 5pm thing.
3weeks fly by fast, i had some dental problems so i had to go and get a tooth pulled, and that scored me about 55x lortabs 7.5's. i eat those like candy, and well now that i'm out its been rough, i'm still in pain with my tooth. smoking crack doesn't seem to help the dental work any.
so the past few days been shitty, no dope just crack, and goddamn does that shit suck.
now it's day ? and well today beens productive, i went and put in a couple job apps at some local restraunts around here. so hopefully i'll hear a call back.
until then :

Okay it's official i seem to have the worst timing when it comes to everything! My fucking psychiatrist is gone on vacation and won't be back until the end of next fucking month . This comes at a time when ive just come back to reality this past few days or so after about 2 weeks of mania or mixed state mania. Before that i was just horribly depressed

So i asked my GP what to do about it and he increased my risperidone dose which is okay i guess. It's too bad i can't afford the 1 anti-psychotic that really helps me without any side effects which is zyprexa! No they won't cover that but if i got on 800mg's of seroquel they would cover that huge fucking cost but not 10mg's of zyprexa a day. Stupid fucking insurance goddamnit to fuck. Stupid fucking useless cunting bastards.

Also my shrink left no backup plan for her patients besides if you get bad go to the psych hospital. Oh thats just fucking great thanks alot doc 8) . Jeez i sure would love to go to that hospital that makes the one in the movie one flew over the cuckoos nest look really modern and nice. Not to mention the one time i was there i got turned away for not being bad enough even though i admitted being suicidal for fuck sakes. What more do they want me to come in with my wrists slashed! For fuck sakes the mental health care system in this province is beyond fucked.

Aye

Today is STILL Wednesday, May 12th, 2010 and it is now 709 PM here in Brooklyn, New York City.

So, when we talked Tuesday night NY Time, she told me all of this and shocked me into stupefied silence (trust me, that does not happen easily). As I told her, I could understand her running TO me, but running AWAY? As in just trying to forget EVERYTHING?

She apologised profoundly and said she had felt trapped. She promised that if she ever felt trapped again she run away and I would come for her.

I went to sleep. When I awoke this morning it was late afternoon in Mindanao. When her sister stole Jackie's phone Jackie turned around and stole her sister's Blackberry. She told me she was now in the mall buying a new SIM Card.

She then asked me if its OK if she doesn't go home, that she had brought clothes with her as well as her ID. I was shocked but I understood her reasoning and so I told her to wait while I found hotels near the mall and made the reservation. She said that she had already found one for about 6 US per evening, a fair amount for a room with private bathroom. I told her to check it for safety and if she felt safe, to pay for it.

So, today is her first full day living off base and I am making ready to join her. When I arrive we will go to Makati, outside Manila, where I am sub-letting a condominium.

She did leave the girls, along with the 2 notes and by now her family is ballistic but that is what we expected. Our life begins...

So, tomorrow it will be 14 days cigarette free.

I started the process on my first day at my new job. I really had no intention of quitting but knew that it would be impossible to satisfy my nicotine cravings while at work.

My solution was to wear a 21mg nicotine patch while at work, suck on a 4mg lozenge when I got edgy and simply smoke cigarettes on the drive to work, my 15 minute breaks and lunch. Immediately after work, I'd remove the patch and smoke the rest of the night.

This wasn't sitting right with me so I decided to just fucking quit. I've been wanting to for a while and made a few cold turkey attempts that only lasted two or three days.

I started back with the 21mg patch and no lozenges for the first week. The second week I've been on the 14mg patches with no lozenges. Monday, I'll be wearing half of a 14mg patch and keep lozenges nearby.

So far it has been rather easy with assistance from the patch. Yeah, I get irritable on occasion and I get cravings mostly in the morning when I switch patches.

The weird thing is that my complexion seemed to get fucked up for about a week. This confused me because I thought the skin was supposed to regain its health after quitting. I now realize that it must have simply been a sort of detoxification. To be honest, it may very well have been the standard poor self-image that made me think my face was all fucked up looking. I dunno, it seems okay today.

I'm looking forward to the day when I have ZERO nicotine in my system. That should be pretty decent!

Meet Mr. and Mrs. Crystal Meth.

I destroy homes – I tear families apart.

I take your children and that's just a start.

I'm more valued than diamonds, more precious than gold.

The sorrow I bring is a sight to behold.

If you need me, remember, I'm easily found.

I live all around you, in school and in town.

I live with the rich, I live with the poor.

I live just down the street and maybe next door.

I'm made in a lab, but not one like you think.

I can be made under the kitchen sink,

In your child's closet, and even out in the woods.

If this scares you to death, then it certainly should.

I have many names. But there's one you'll know best.

I'm sure you've heard of me, my name is Crystal Meth.

My power is awesome, try me, you'll see.

But if you do, you may never break free.

Just try me once and I might let you go.

But if you try me twice, then I'll own your soul.

When I possess you, you'll steal and you'll lie.

You'll do what you have to do, just to get high.

The crimes you commit for my narcotic charms,

Will be worth the pleasures you feel in my arms.

You'll lie to your mother; you'll steal from your dad.

When you see their tears, you must feel sad.

Just forget your morals and how you were raised.

I'll be your conscience, I'll teach you my ways.

I take kids from their parents; I take parents from their kids.

I turn people from God, I separate friends.

I'll take everything from you, your looks and your pride.

I'll be with you always, right by your side.

You'll give up everything, your family, your home.

Your money, your true friend, then you'll be alone.

I'll take and take till you have no more to give.

When I finish with you, you'll be lucky to live.

If you try me, be warned, this is not a game.

If I'm given the chance, I'll drive you insane.

I'll ravage your body; I'll control your mind.

I'll own you completely; your soul will be mine.

The nightmares I'll give you when you're lying in bed,

And the voices you'll hear from inside your head.

The sweats, the shakes, and the visions from me.

I want you to know these things are gifts to you from me.

But then it's too late, and you'll know in your heart

That you are now mine and we shall not part.

You'll regret that you tried me (they always do).

But you came to me, not I to you.

You knew this would happen.

Many times you've been told.

But you challenged my power,

You chose to be bold.

You could have said no and then walked away.

If you could live that day over now, what would you say?

My power is awesome, as I told you before.

I can take your life and make it so dim and sore.

I'll be your master and you'll be my slave.

I'll even go with you when you go to your grave.

Now that you've met me, what will you do?

Will you try me or not? It's all up to you.

I can show you more misery than words can tell.

Come take my hand, let me lead you straight to H---.

This whole damn thing is ridiculously confusing to me...maybe it's the fact that I haven't slept in 48 hours...or maybe I shouldn't have dropped out of college that 4th time...I can't seem to figure out how to post on the message boards...whatever...I guess this is better...anyway...

So, Im on suboxone...2nd day...still haven't slept... but I'm getting through it. I'm craving real bad but I really don't want to do it anymore...so thats helping...a little... The addict in me is still creating scenarios in which I could score... and I can actually imagine the feeling of that initial rush...grrr... I keep having effing hot flashes and these long sleeves aren't helping. I can't wait until the bruises on my arms are gone so I can COMFORATBLY wear short sleeves. My knees are kinda starting to ache...but for some reason thats just something that happens to me when I'm on subs. Hm, nothing to say, only complaints....

Watching National Lampoons Vegas Vacation...we're at the DAM scene...lol...good stuff...
I've realized at about 5 in the morning ALL programming seems to turn into info-mercials...I actually sat here last night and watched about 45 min. of this electric chopper thing that can prepare meals in under a minute...I considered buying it...ha...

I'm thinking of taking a coulpe seroquel and trying to pass out but I don't know if it will counteract w/ the subs...I'd rather not die while I'm trying to get off the stuff that was sure to kill me...It'd be too Ironic...and my life has an abundance of that as it is...Thats actually the reason I found this site to begin with. I googled 'mixing suboxone and seroquel' and this site came up...but is basically useless to me because I'm too retarded to figure out how to actually use it...

I reach for the phone under my pillow after opening one eye and hit the button to turn on the screen so I can look at the time, 9:27, and then smoothly swing my left leg around the other side of the bed to see if anybody is there but nothing, just bunched up sheets. I reach my arm across and pat around, instinctively sit up straight and look over, think for a few seconds. What the hell is going on?

I walk to the bathroom and take a piss without lifting the seat, spray drops of pale, translucent yellow all over the damned thing and stand for a few moments staring at it. The taste in my mouth is disgusting but I don't brush my teeth. Cigarettes? Maybe a cigar. Tequila. Bodily fluids. No vomit.

You scream in your sleep, I hear her voice say to me from the hallway beside me and I turn, boxer shorts pulled down around my thighs and nothing else on but I don't react just look. She's holding a mug of coffee and wearing only my bathrobe which is conveniently untied, her nakedness just visible through the revealing V shape where the bathrobe doesn't cover and I feel good about having the privilege of laying my bloodshot, blurry eyes on it in the sobering daylight. I think about making a sarcastic comment about her making herself at home but decide against it as I'm not entirely sure what her maximum level of tolerable abuse is before she blows that harpie, woman scorned gasket they all seem to have. Not to mention i'm not really in the mood yet for a cup of hot coffee to the face. She notices the toilet seat and turning, walking towards the kitchen says something about me being a crack shot.

I walk back into the bedroom to put on a pair of jeans I find bunched up and sticking out from underneath the bed and then follow her into the kitchen but she isn't there and it takes me a couple of moments, after opening the cabinet to retrieve a mug for myself, pouring some coffee from the pot she made and having a sip, before I realize that something is terribly wrong. The door is open a crack and I peak out into the hallway, look down toward the neighbors door and see nothing but a pair of sneakers sitting on the ground. I pull my head back in and look at the hook beside the door where I hang my keys but it's empty and nervous, scampering, spilling coffee on my hand as I toss the mug on the counter, I head to the window overlooking the back parking lot in my bedroom where I see, five stories below, my car pulling out into traffic just as my bathrobe gets tossed from the drivers side window onto the asphalt.

I love you, savior of the hobo threads!

I meant to post this 2 days ago:

I love you like no other. You were an amazing person. You were there for the most important events in my life and everything in between.

You were everything - You were my bestfriend.

Today is your 34th Birthday -- If only you were alive to celebrate it.

A Memory

Now if I could only find a picture with you in it.

Love You Freckles, Hope you're having a blast up there

Its a shame your brother married the bitch. You were always the cuter of the two Thank god you were mine.

I miss you tons!

Hey,

Never done a blog before - but if you knew me you'd wonder why on earth haven't I started one years ago...

It seems fitting to start a blog right after falling off the wagon. I was completely clean for a total of 4 days, and now I'm not sure what I'm going to do? I've tried not to think of it as a failure....

I my bupe WD sypmtoms were so mild it really didn't warrant this slip back - I think I did it because I know I'm going to go through hell at some point over the next 2 weeks - I just don't know exactly when

here i am. stuck again. stuck in life. time flying by and here i am just standing here in the middle of it, waiting for something to happen.

i've been in this position before and i made the tough decision to pack my things and move half way across the world. i thought it would help. i thought if i put myself in a position where i'd have no support that i would have to fend for myself, and i guess rebuild. rebuild myself into someone i was proud of. someone i was happy to be.

i was there for a year. it went okay i guess. enjoyed my work, while it lasted. but everything didn't quite progress or rebuild as much as i could have hoped. socially i was still a retard, self esteem was still in the red.

i spent 1 year there. but i don't think i made the most of it. in fact, i'm certain i didn't.

i believe in "just do it". but i don't have the courage, or the balls to actually "just do it". maybe i'm a pussy. maybe i just need to grow some balls. fuck knows.

all i know is that i'm stuck again. and i'm getting sick of feeling sorry for myself and hoping for shit to change, when the only thing stopping me is myself.

so far it seems like a really helpfull site with really nice forums for all the smokers around , and for those that are ready to try new things, and not just to fuck up with ur mind.
i personaly use only plants such as: weed, shrooms, salvia, lotus, hydro, etc.
i like to enjoy the simple things that nachure brought to us, and i'd like to learn how to use it properly.
i see this site as a site that is full of knowledge and experience.
i'd be glad to get to know you people, so we all share whatever we have up in our head, not just 'bout weed and such as.
any way, that's me in pic below or where ever u guys see it
nice to meet!

Fed up with drinking. Fighting w/ds with diaz. Woke up yesterday freezing and sweating, got the anxiety rush, finished a glass of wine left over from the night before and that was that. Not drinking today. Spent the night somewhere safe feeling... valume and flexeril helps too i guess lol. Just dosed up with some val. This will work. It really does kill the shakes and the anxiety, the chest pains.. it helps me think straight, it's like I can't form a fuckin sentence or do the simplest things when I'm sobering up. It's gone wayy too far. I'm so done. Thank god for benozo's though, I'd be fucked..

Figured I would just post something here to keep track of myself.

Today is Wednesday, May 12th, 2010 and it is now 559 PM here in Brooklyn New York City.

Recap: My last entry spoke a bit more about the horrid baby shower I was "Shanghaid" into attending on Satyrday, May 8th, in the South Bronx.

The shower ended promptly at 6 PM, which is the great thing about afternoon gatherings, none of the horrendous "hanging on until tomorrow" bullshit that goes hand in hand at evening soirees. I am not anti-social per se, just that I do not drink alcohol, I do not dance and do not much see the point in enforced socialising. If I enjoy your company, why would I not be seeing you all through the year, as opposed to these inane gatherings? Like the book and movie say, "No man is an island" and so I allow myself, from time to time, to be dragged kicking and screaming to these "things."

I was in a rather shitty mood because Jackie and I had last talked Thursday evening NY time. Regular contact with the Philippines has always been an issue. Until the present, bush towns in Mindanao, and I am sure any smaller islands, are without any kind of reliable mail service. Post offices exist but mail delivery does not. Feeding outlying post offices does not depend upon any set system of affairs so that even posting domestically, from Manila to my town of San Francisco on Mindanao is usually going to end up without success.

Posting from the US or Israel is guaranteed to not work out. There are, as of the last couple of years, air freight companies, like the Federal Express contractor, "Airfreight 2000." The delivery usually arrives, if about a week after it was supposed to and without knowing until the last minute whether or not it even passed Customs...

Phones are another aggravating issue. Until about 2004 there were only landlines in the bush and they basically consisted of "Call Centres" semi-funded by the government. If anyone has ever dealt with calling outlying areas of Mexico (as I do for my daughter) they will know what I mean by "call centres."If you wanted to call someone, and were even able to get a connection to the call centre, you would tell the clerk the name of the recipient, and their "address" (another spotty issue), or in lieu of existing addresses some kind of identifying information anout their residence. You would be told to call back in between 1 and 3 hours. IF at that time you are still able to make the connection, you had an "iffy" chance that they would have found the person and that they would have made it back into the town/village proper.

Then, in 2004, technology not only caught up with the rural Philippines, it lept past its existing level of infrastructure and created a totally connected population. The Philippines are literally the most connected of any population if one judges such things by "SMS" ("texting").

I have a mate who contracts in Afghanistan and he told me, about 2 years back, how ironic it felt to be travelling some gravel track in the wilds near Tajikistan, and to come across a nomadic tribe of herders, living much as their ancestors did when Alexander the Great's troops passed through, and then to look a bit closer at that pastoral scene and see a youth of 14 babbling away in Tajik, into his Nokia!

Technology, as they say, is both a blessing AND a curse.

In the Philippine's case it is indeed a blessing but as I said the infrastructure needs to play a lot of catch up. The transmission towers are not exactly top notch, and of course there is the ever present insurgency to deal with. A frequent target for both the Maoists and the MILF ("Moro Islamic Liberation Front" an Islamo-Fascist band of undisciplined nutters) is to blow up pylons.

Even when they are not playing "Che Guevera" with pylons the service is intermittent, so that IF one regularly calls Mindanao, more often than not they will be out of luck.

That leaves the internet. In 2005 Rizza and I were living here in New York as I worked at the World Trade Center site. She felt pent up as I had been, since 9/11, working 7 days a week, 12 hours a day. So off she went to visit her family on Mindanao. One day she did not come on line, which is not unusual given, as I have said, the lack of infrastructure. At that point DSL was the best the entire island had to offer and even then it was spotty. The day turnes into "days," and then a "week." On the 10th day I finally found out that a "Bottom Trawler" (a fishing boat with a gigantic net that is weighted down to drag the sea bed) had snagged a fibre optic cable off of Taiwan. Amazingly, the entire Philippine archipelago (7,107 islands) depended on that single cable!

In the end we didn't have internet, phone and of course mail for 3 weeks.

But in 2010 things are different. 2008 saw broadband arrive along with a plethora of providers...We have had a day without contact but that has been so rare.

Jackie didn't contact me until Tuesday morning NY time, and at that point I had already been making arrangements to fly out there. My passports have me with military-short hair, so I went and got my head shaved down, booked a flight for Thursday, May 13th and put in for 25 bottles of methadone...but of course, as I just said, she made contact.

In past entires I have mentioned how Jackie and I must keep our relationship very low key. Bisaya Culture dictates that even if the Philippines allowed divorce, and it does not, a married woman stays married forever. This is changing slowly in places like Cebu that have a lot of foreign influence but on Mindanao it is as strongly dictated as it ever was.

Jackie's situation is unusual though. Although she lives as a Bisaya, her dad is a "Lumad" (loo-mad), a Hilltribesman (Higaon-an Tribe) and they are married for eternity, not even widows remarry though even in Bisaya widows rarely do so.

Then there is Jackie's "marriage" to consider. Her ex is a Tausug Tribesman, one of the 13 tribes collectively known as "Moro," which is itself an ethni-religious catchphrase used to describe Filipino Muslims. Tausug DO allow divorce per Islam but it is considered so shameful that they will usually just kill the woman.

About 2 weeks ago her eldest sister asked her, half seriously, if she had a "secret boyfriend." In just about all Philippine ethnicities the eldest daughter assumes a rome much like the mother that increases in responsibility with age. Her eldest sister evidently takes this role quite seriously.

Jackie ignored the question and this caused the sister to go apeshit. She ran to their parents and complained about how disrespectful Jackie was being. Her younger brother, the methamphetamine addict, volunteered that it was because Jackie had a "Kano" (white man). This caused a huge argument that continued, while getting progressively worse, until Wednesday. That day her eldest sister stole Jackie's ID and her smart phone. Since her addict brother had stolen her PC, we had relies on that phone to IM. Her father, all her sisters and brothers (3 each) told her that she only wanted a Kano for money.

That is ironic because back in October I tried to convince Jackie to let me support her financially. I didn't like the fact that her ex was paying her rent, etc, although in truth it was for their daughters.

He is an NCO, and the AFP (Philippine Military) pays 12,000 Pesos (60 US with the Dollar weak as it is now but usually 240). While being very well paid in the Philippines, he was giving her 10,000 a month. It left A LOT of questions in my mind, such as, how he could afford to support himself, let alone his 2nd woman and new baby they had. Still, Jackie reminded me that IF she stopped taking the money (paid via ATM so they never saw each other) the family would know she and I were a couple). Besides, she did not want me giving her money.

After Valentines weekend when he tried to forcibly move back in to her house, he cut off the money. At that point she STILL would not accept money from me so they nonsense was especially hurtfull to her.

Then they told her that IF she was going to go with me it was better for her to forgive her ex and make a life because otherwise she would just be a whore. She was so insulted and hurt.

So, Thursday, after she IMd me from the cafe, and walked into her house a few doors down from the cafe, her addict brother screamed that he had seen her in the cafe and slapped her face.

All her siblings and even her father began berating her horribly and not seeing a way out she grabbed some bleach and maaged to drink some before they pinned her down.

They called the ambulance and she was hospitalised until Monday evening, and only able to get to the cafe Tuesday night, NY time...

I will continue....

i woke up early this morning. and i lay quietly in bed thinking. for some reason i thought about you, and i couldn't get back to sleep.

i thought about the past year, and the past few months. and i realised, fuck you.

when i let myself take charge and make the effort to keep our friendship, i saw you pretty much every week.

and now the past few months when i told you that you'd have to make the effort, i haven't seen or heard from you at all.

so fuck you. fuck you when you said that you cared about me, about our friendship, about how we were special. fuck you and your lies.

I just moved to Ann Arbor, MI. Need I say more?

Two days ago I had only 4mg of Suboxone left - or half of one of my 8mg tablets, and not enough money to make an appointment for at least several days.

So I called the pharmacy and casually asked for a refill (pretending I had one left), which is a mistake they've made a handful of times with me. Unfortunately, the douche on the phone was quick to shut that idea down.

He asked me if I wanted him to call my doctor and ask for a refill, and I said no, as I'd rather make the call for various reasons (I feel I can ask better, I've been going there for over a year now).

So, I just called the same 24-hour pharmacy (it's 5:30 A.M.), and a woman picked up the phone who has made some mistakes in my favor before. I tried again, and failed, but come to find out my doctor sent me a refill of 14x 2mg Suboxone. I've never had the 2mg before, they are almost twice as expensive per mg as the 8mgs are. Although it makes me happy to see I'm not going to have to go into withdrawals, this asshead clearly called my doctor without my permission. I feel had I made the call, I could have surely gotten a refill of my 8mg tablets.

It just doesn't seem legal. Anyhow, although I've been on Suboxone for 13 months, it is clear I am still an addict - making calls to pharmacies in the middle of the night and trying to cheat their system.

help suspect my husband of doing coke .. alays has a stuffy nose and red eyes? i ask about it but he says hes tied al the time or its because he welded all day (hes a welder) always blows his nose . I NEED HELP! PLEASE

Today is Monday, May 10th, 2010 and it is now 143 PM here in Brooklyn, New York City.

When I last blessed you with my wry but discerning intellect I was at a baby shower that was just getting underway in a South Bronx housing project, dreading the impending rumble slash fart of Reggaeton that was about to rip my hemmorhoids apart...

My friend paid 140 US to have it catered. What does one get in New York City for 140 Dollars? Well, HE got 1 "pernil" (Hispano-Carribean roast shoulder of pork, marined in sour orange juice and/or limes, garlic, oil and herbs, then slow roasted untilb the skin/crust is crackling and the meat distentegrates off of the bone). 2 "pollos asadao" (chiken done up pretty much the same way EXCEPT rotisseried, which come to think of it is 1 of the 2 traditional ways "pernil" is done although noone really bothers anymore. The 2nd traditional way is to do it as Jamaicans do "jerk," without the spiciness. In other words, dig a 1 meter pit, put sand on the bottom, gravel and then flat river stones all across the bottom. Start a wood fire atop, when it dies down and the rocks are red hot, put your meat on the rocks/stones, baste that meat VERY well, cover with a piece of corrugated roofing tin or zinc, cover with stones, bury in soil and dig up 36 hours later...Wow, get me off on a fucken' tangent yah?

He also got 1 baking pan full of "platanos maduro," which are yellow plantains, deep fried as is in oil. Plantains for those unaware if a cousin of the banana, looks EXACTLY the same although about 3 times fatter and longer. When green, or "verde," you can cook it a couple of ways. If you have no oil, or just dig the taste of boiled tubers (potatoes), you can place it in a pot of simmering water, with ot without salt, oh so simple.

Usually though, Caribbean-Hispanos will slice it, smash it flat with the bottom of a cup, etc, season it with "adobo*" (which in the US usually means store bough powdered adobo or worse, "sazon*".

*What in the world is "adobo"? It is a Caribbean-Hispano dried/powdered seasoning, usually "Goya" brand. Goya is another story in itself but enough of my verbose, encyclopediac bullshit.

*"Sazon" is pretty much the same with a shitload of "achiote" for yellow colouring and Good old "MSG" (monosodiumgluthamate), the crap Chinese takeaways stopped using in the late 1980s (except in NYC ghettoes...

So, they do all that to the slices, not complicated at all trust me, and then they fry it in just a coating of oil in a skillet. They are OK as long as I slather them in Carribean-Hispano hotsauce like "Goya," etc.

He also got 1 baking tin of Puerto Rican style "Arroz con Gondules" (Rice and Pigeon Peas/Field Snaps). Puert Ricans eat their rice, almost always, yellow. They never use "Zafra" (Saffron) like a true Spaniard would and well they should not at a price literally higher than gold gramme per gramme, and without the importation fee (not grown in the Carribean traditionally). Pigeon Peas aka "Field Snaps" as American Blacks call them, are little field legumes, they taste mighty good to yours truly.

Funny, when I first began my BL Journal, the progenitor of this BL Blog, it was to emulate 2 people I admire so very much. 1 was Crystal Callas aka "Maria Callas" as her current screen name is known (for the last 4 years). She is incredibly creative and though she posts barely at all now, despite still Moderating at least 1 forum, her entries used to incorporate all sorts of different media.

More to the point, for this spiel, the 2nd person I admired and wanted to emulate, was a Malaysian bloke, a BL memeber, who used to Blog offsite as "Sixthseal," at his own domain.

He fucked himself up by being absolutely honest. I will get to that in a second. I really admired how he anal retentively catalouged every take away meal he experienced, complete with photos nicely done up. Malaysia of course has incredible cusine as compared to the Philippines, forget about the SOUTHERN Philippines which has about 7 dishes, and most people eat only 2 or 3...

I also admired his absolute and brutal honesty. It is why I crazily committed myself to posting under my actual full name, listing my actual street adresses, my employment info, actual psychoactive (drug) intake, and many illegal activities. I went so far, on my BL Journal, to talk about a 4 hectare poppy crop I was growing in the Philippines! At the time that was a fucking capital crime (the growing, not the "talking," no "Conspiracy" statutes like its faux-fascist degenerate Uncle Sam.

Anyway, Sixth did that (except his street adresses) and ended up in a Malaysia Court, sentenced to 2 years in a state in-patient rehab for simply USING drugs that were prescribed for him...albeit he did admit he wanted them only to "get high."

My own sad and terrible experiences with my own anal retentive honesty was having some BL dickhead call my NYC police precinct (the 40th )Precinct by the way hahah) and report a "tip," that I had committed a MURDER. Hahahahahah.

I talked about it on the Journal, even got Lacey (LaceyK, another Mod) wound up...

It was a Sunday evening about 10 something in the evening? I was sitting in my briefs catalouging NY Times articles on the Mid-East, spread out on my bed when 4 plainclothes pigs kicked open my bedroom door.

In NY, any legal resident of a dwelling is allowed to give verbal permision for a Warrantless Search. The "DTs" had knocked on my front door, asked directly if they could search, and Rizzabeing the law-abiding square that is said "Of course officers."

After kicking in my door (literally) and putting me in a 4-point pin on my bed, face down in newsprint, they seacrched the room oh so carefully. I am not a virgin to the system so I did not even bother saying a word...About 20 minutes later they realised they had been played, looked pissed. They did not say a word other than, "Did you hear gun shots?" Whatever asshole, play it off, just haul ass... They did,and away the issue went.

Afterwards I was horrified to realise how I appeared! Sitting in my drawers, with a giant scissors cutting out newspaper articles, with a huge pile of them? I am sure those cops thought I was a top-flight nutter, John Hinckley the 4th or whatever Federal nutjob in America (granted, the country DOES ha gets all the attention these days (or conversely, in THOSE days since it was after all, something like 2003).

Honesty DOES have a price. All in all I appreciate my decison it has been very rewarding for me intellectually. I found that online people will often shout silly insults and horrible thoughts that would never have the balls to comw close to saying in public I also found that so many people lie their ass off.

There was a poster, he probablly still posts here since he was always changing his ID. This poster would get into a discussion with me in CE and P Forum (Current Events and Political) and...for example...let us say the discussion revolved around the West's lust for fossil fuels, and how on some level (according to me) it does justify the West's intervention in Iraq, etc, etc.

He would respond that he used NO fossil fuels. He walked or rode his bicycle, never even took mass transport. I would reply along the lines of, "Well, you DO use plastics yes? You ought to research how plastics are manufactured," HINT. I would needle him, telling him that PC he was using incorporated plastics. His amazing reply? Mind you I am NOT embellishing! He responded, "My PC has a wooden case and all bio-degradable materiels. I built it from a kit myself!" Hahahahahahah.

This is EXACTLY one of the things I hope to avoid. If I offer up unfettered honesty, it may just inspire others to dot the same, at least part of the time. Never works of course but fuck it, was worth a shot. In the end it is good my character.

So, getting back to "the food"....140 US for what would have cpst from that same resturant much less than 50 US, IF one picked up themselves and did NOT use the word "catering." What was this "catering" anyway?

A teenager drove over his mum's compact car, lifted the boot and delivered 4 baking tins!!! Can you say, "Robbed you without a pistol?"

I am running mad long in this post so that I will post now to ensure the "character count/limit" does not kick in and screw this entry up.

(Edited for spelling)

So I got myself a new San Pedro recently, and just today found a suitable pot for it. It wasn't quite what I wanted (I had my heart set on a central-American-style pattern), but I drove around lightly stoned for what must have been the hottest part of the day to try and find a good one, and once it reached 2PM this seemed good enough. It's still a nice pot though; I like the textured surface.

Flickr photo-set

This marks the beginning of what is going to be a worthwhile life journey. A long-term project is something that I've needed for a while, so this seemed a good idea. Something to look forward to in the future, which is something my current perspective has lacked.

I am a little worried about the discolourations on one side of it however. If anyone can identify what that is, please let me know! I do own a book on cacti, which I have yet to read (lol), but has been working its way around my circle of trippers (who all bought their own cacti )... I'll go pick it up tonight and do some reading methinks.

Today is Saturday, May 8th, 2010 and it is now 109 PM here in the South Bronx, New York City.

Why pray tell am I in the South Bronx and NOT in Brooklyn where I live? I am at a baby shower for a friend of mine.

It is being held at the Mott Haven Community Center in the Mott Haven Housing Project (a "housing estate" as they say in England). A 60 year old gymnasium, small in size where I helped set up the folding tables and chairs, and carry in drinks, etc.

It is just beginning now, the DJ is setting up, and since these people are Puerto Ricans I am sure I will have a splitting headache in about 15 minutes. Reggaeton is "OK "...in very limited dosages. It should come with a fucken warning label: "WARNING: The sounds you are about to hear have made coyotes sterile."

Reggaeton is such an interesting genre (NOT). It began in Panama in Central America, in the "Canal Zone." The Zone is US territory that was SUPPOSED to revert to Panama, as Hong Kong did to China. When it became clear that former dictator Manuel Noriega would not be extending the US "lease" on the vital waterway he suddenly became a "dangerous" cocaine dealer (as opposed to the 90% of cocaine dealers who work with at least tacit approval of the US Government). Launching their he-man/woman hater military raid that merely caused old Manny, or "pineapple face" as some lovingly called him, take refuge in an embassy. The US then used the creme a la creme of intelligantsia to develop a sure fire strategy; To effect Mr. Noriega's voluntary surrender, the US would blast...MUZAK! "We've only just beeeeeeegun........."

The Canal was originally an American effort and lacking the manpower to construct it, the contractors began importing labour from the English speaking Carribean, primarily Jamaica.

Arriving at the turn of the 20th Century these arrivals, for the most part, stayed, though they made a real effort and for the most part married women from their home islands.

The result has been a unique ethnicty, 3rd generation Panamaian-Jamaicans who speak perfect Spanish with a very noticeable English accent accent (2nd such ethnicity in Hispano-America). These 3rd generation youth, in the eaely 1980s, began getting into the Dancehall Reggae so popular then (and now) in Jamaica.

Though almost all spoke English, it was as their 2nd language and many were frustrated by not being able to fully express themselves in lyrics.

They began "toasting" (Dancehall "rapping") in Spanish.

In 1985 the earliest "star" "El General" and the music gained notice in purely Spanish speaking speaking nations, including Puerto Rico. By 1996 Puerto Rico became the centre of an altogether new form of music.

Instead of simply using Spanish or even "Spanglish,"these new artists were changing the music's entire structure, creating new types of "riddims" (Dancehall Producers create instrumental tracks, over which different artists "toast."

Probablly the best known of the early Puerto Rican artists was "DJ Playero."

Although in the last 3 or 4 years the gentre evolved nicely the music became synonymous with repetitive beat structure and sexually explicit lyrics (not too creative)...and damn Rachamim!!! All that explainin' for what? Ain't ya' tired of spewing English??? Indeed I am, so I will close on THAT note...and pick it up at my leisure...(this shower sucks)...

I feel the blah blah blues... not able to find, slightly feinding, and not sure of anything right now. Life in Eastern Canada is a mixed blessing, but sometimes, a trip to vancouver would be like visiting an exotic paradise compared to here.