Blogs

I have predicted at least 3 deaths

I skied off of a cliff in Colorado

When I lived in Yosemite bears used to hang out by my bedroom window

When I lived in Florida I learned how to surf by a famous surfer

I almost fell off a mountainside, riding a horse on a switchback on a moonlit ride.

Today I resolve not to masturbate again until I have paid off my credit card debt.

I'm down about $4,500 right now, with $1000 at 12% and $3,500 at 0% for another two and a half months. Of course, the zero apr needs to be paid before I can dig into the 12% money.

This resolution is "crazy" for me because jerkin' is far and away my favorite thing to do on planet earth. It's been a constant comfort to me since I was 12 years old.

It'll be tough because I need to pay off an assload of student loans during the same time, I pay a lot of rent, I only make $10 an hour, and I work as a contractor "as needed."

Luckily, I've been making myself useful at work and I'm a favorite for my skills if not my personality.

I just did some back of the envelope calculations, and if I continue to pull 20 days a month at work, and I don't see any increases in expenses, I have around $980 'to spend' a month. Food needs to come out of that, but I'm confident I can put the bulk towards the card if I need to.

So, best case scenario, if I live like a hermit (no real problem for me, except do hermits jerk off?) I can about have the card paid off by the time the interest kicks in on the rest of the loan. (I have about a grand in savings right now).

But will I be able to do it? I've definitely broken promises to myself before, and masturbation is my firmest habit. heh.

And finally, what is the point of this endeavor? I plan to use this as motivation to expand my skills and branch into some small-time business ventures. To see if I can work towards deriving more pleasure out of activities that improve me, rather than idle pleasures.

I'll post again if I go back on my word!

A lot of this is written from personal experience.


1. Belts, shoe-laces, drawstrings, and sharp objects are a big no-no! If you enter the ward with these (especially a high security ward), they will be taken off you.

2. Don't bother trying to break open a security door. It won't work.

3. Don't bother trying to smash a window. Even if it doesn't have bars across it, the glass is unbreakable.

4. If you get agitated and a doctor offers you some pills to calm you down, I suggest you take them. Otherwise it'll be an injection in the ass.

5. If you're given older "typical antipsychotics", put a towel over your pillow before you sleep to prevent it getting covered with drool.

6. If a fellow inpatient is sitting quietly by themselves, don't try to start a conversation. They obviously want to be left alone.

7. Avoid the dangerous/violent ones. You'll soon figure out who they are!

8. 99% of the nurses are friendly, helpful, and far more approachable than the doctors. Don't be afraid to talk to them.

9. If you're an involuntary patient, the doctor has the power to release you or keep you locked up. Be nice to them, and don't give them a reason to continue keeping you there.

10. Just accept the fact that you're there. It may take a few days, a few weeks, or in some cases, a few months - but you will eventually be discharged.

4 for these things will annoy me to the point of not talking to someone... one of these things is a good trait

*people who refuse to take responsibility for themselves
*people who think its a good idea to profit off other's hard work
*people who think everything is owed to them
*people who make their own destiny
*people who draw attention to themselves at every possible moment

*** copied from BL journal ***

Hey Jeff,

You readin' this? Hey motherfucker, the only reason you're reading this is cause you have doubts. Yeah, you want that shit in your arm again. You're remembering how nice it was. Yeah, it was nice when you had enough. Do you ever have enough, you stupid fuck? Did you forget about how the quality changes which causes disappointment and anger? Did you forget the times when you didn't have any and you would get cough syrup at the store? What about all the bullshit you told people (who knew you were bullshitting them) to get more? You put your own values aside to get ONE fuckin' taste in your arm.

What about heroin? Remember when you thought that heroin would be a better choice than slamming coke in your arm? Remember when you accepted the fact that if you did H you're life would be over because you knew how you were with loving drugs and that it would be ok cause you wanted to die anyway?

The person typing this doesn't sympathize with you and thinks that if you use now, YOU ARE A PUSSY.

Whatcha running from, pussy? Face it, kick its ass and move the fuck on. Why you running you coward? Life has alot of aspects to it that are pretty cool. You're afraid of experiencing shit you aren't used to and want to fall into a lazy little world.

Pussies are afraid of shit. If you do any more shit then you are a pussy.

For some reason people like you. People respect you. Are you going to do something good with that or are you going to manipulate and run away?

You don't want that shit in your body anymore. Don't forget that there isn't enough of the shit to make you ok. This shit is just a delay to the real answer that will make you better. There just isn't enough

I'm very sensitive to words like depressed, bipolar, mental illness, etc. My father is a case of legit bipolar disorder. He's not one of the millions of misdiagnosed bipolar patients; he's the real deal. All my life, my dad has been a timebomb. It always just took time for him to go off on a manic episode lasting 2 months, all his money, and a lot of my family's peace of mind.

These days, he's got it under control with a massive cocktail of prescription medications. So he's not really the main topic of conversation/gossip in the family anymore. No, I'd say that title goes to my brother and myself. He's the uncontrollable alcoholic. I'm the junkie. All my aunts and uncles want to give us their advice, ask us questions about our struggles. It's annoying.

But then they ask us about our father. We say he's the same as he always was. They then look at us silently thinking, "I wonder if either of those boys is like their father."

I am paranoid as fuck about mental illness. I'm so afraid of being depressed by something other than opiate withdrawal. I'm afraid of turning out exactly like my father. I do hate him, by the way. A lot to be specifically. I'm not Oedipus or anything but I just really don't want to turn out like him. So that makes me overly sensitive about terms like depression and the like.

I'm not bipolar. I'm so tired of anyone suspecting it. Every time I've ever gone into therapy it's all they want to talk about. So I lie about it to my psychiatrist now. I officially do not have any family history of mental illness.

I've observed a few things about therapy and psychiatry thanks to this perspective. When they rely on family history in diagnosis, they prescribe antipsychotics for insomnia, SSRI's for anxiety, and nothing for ADD. when they don't suspect any inherited illness, they prescribe ambien and benzos for sleep, benzos for anxiety, and adderall for ADD.

i don't know what that means about the profession or how it deals with its patients. i don't even know the odds, genetically speaking, of me receiving my dad's bad genes and becoming a manic-depressive person. but if by just mentioning that my father is bipolar, in family and therapeutic settings, i get treated differently. it's not a good thing.

I use to have this nightmare, some mornings I would wake up sweating after thrashing around in my sleep but mainly I’d wake crying, I’d then get dressed hiding my tears and go off to work with the fallout still polluting my mind and often while travelling reliving parts of the nightmare over and over again which would bring those emotions flooding back.

The nightmare; it would start with myself standing outside a church as I welcomed all those who had come to mourn my wife. As time went on I would find myself inside the church talking to sobbing friends and family trying to console them, all the time I would be trying to be the strong one constantly struggling with this internal dam which held back the tears and emotions.

As the nightmare peaked I would find myself stood at the alter looking down at my friends and family and still I’d be holding back, I could see them all as clear as day, work colleagues, family, friends I’d studied with etc. I’d speak to all those there saying nice and bad things about my wife, that she was a loving mother, a friend and lover and all the time out of the corner of my eye I’d see my two children one would be drawing and colouring and the other just looking around eating sweets given to her by my sister. As I stepped down from the alter I’d touch the coffin and walk to my children.

I would wake at this point and then relive certain parts on my way to work.

The way I have been taught is that in a recurring nightmare there will always be something or maybe a couple of things that stand out as being significant. It’s important we can identify these. For me it was my children, they were very young at the time and very much enjoying their own little world, feeling totally safe and cared for with no awareness to their environment and the emotional turmoil, they were the key.

So what did I associate with them at that moment in time?
I wanted/needed their innocence, their lack of responsibility, their lack of awareness, their only worry at that time was ‘when was the next sweet coming’, ‘can I have a yellow pencil’, I wanted to be cared for… Once this had been shown to me, the pain stopped, understanding what is happening with you and your environment is the answer for finding ‘self awareness’.

Ten years ago my wife was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS) after collapsing in the street with my 3 year old son. Around five months later I had my first nightmare visit, the rest is history…

I'm learning lots of things. I'm noticing my ego in situations I never would have thought it would appear.

Last night, at a meeting, dude was sharing how he had 20 days clean from shootin' coke and that he was struggling with the obsession of the ritual and the rush.

I JUST went through that very recently. I was COMPLETELY obsessing about the whole process of slamming coke in my veins. I truly thought I would cave in. I'm surprised I made it through and am AMAZED that that obsession is GONE now.

So, since I had just experienced what this guy was going through, I figured I could reach out and offer what I could.

Sounds appropriate, right?

Wrong!

After the meeting, dude was surrounded by dude's that have LOTS of experience in recovery and LOADS of clean time. I waited for them to shoot the shit with the guy was struggling and then I stepped in. Do ya see it? I stepped in.

I told the dude that I could relate. That I remember obsessing about drawing the solution into the rig, watching the blood fill the barrel and pushing down the plunger. I told him that he should do WHATEVER it takes to get through it (read a book, watch TV, even jerkoff and fall asleep if necessary) Do ANYTHING but use, that the obsession will pass. He was looking at me like I was nuts.

What the fuck was I thinking? I was talking about the ritual of injecting to a dude who was obsessing of injecting.

I should have just told him that what he was going through was normal and walked away.

Even better, I shoulda just shut my fuckin' mouth. Who am I to satisfy my self-centered, egotistical image by trying so hard to the point of being counter-productive?

There will be times that I can help folks by sharing my experience. I need to learn HOW to share that experience before I open my fuckin' mouth again.

I'm a nobody trying to be somebody. This 'trying' cannot fuck with others.

I hope I learned and I hope I didn't add to this dude's obsessive thoughts.

I'm feeling depression make a slow creepy walk into my head. At least that's what I suspect it is.

I'm angry and restless and have no interest in stupid bullshit.

I know how it works with me. Little things pile up, I hold shit in, I dwell on negative things and soon enough I find simple things impossible to do.

I'm lucky that I'm recognizing this early. It gives me a good position to stop the progression early which will be easier (but still difficult) than when I am mired in unrealistic thinking (self-pity, uselessness, hopelessness, self-hatred, etc.)

I'm at a loss though. Typically, I try to help others when I can to combat my own self-centeredness. Helping folks lately has been draining and aggravating. I suspect that being 'in service' to others is actually fucking me up.

I actually believe I need to be completely selfish and keep pursuing a life worth living without regard to those who reach out to me.

Its fucked up though. I mean, sometimes people only need someone to listen to them. How hard is that? I mean, really... if I can't even just sit on the phone and let someone vent so that they can feel better than what kind of person am I and why does it affect me so?

All I know is I CANNOT FALL INTO DEPRESSION. I remember (vaguely) many of the aspects I feel when I'm depressed and I'm certain I have forgotten the worst parts. I'm really not interested in being reminded.

I'm gonna fight this. I'll humble myself and take a shitty, low paying job until a true career presents itself to me again.

I'm going to continue exercising and eating properly.

I'm going to continue taking my vitamins.

I'm going to turn my phone off as often as needed.

I need to figure out some other things that will help me combat this because the things I'm doing already simply aren't enough (apparently)

Fuckin' A, man... I guess this is something that will help me be a stronger more compassionate, empathetic person.

Another example of 'ya gotta go through it to get through it'.

Enough fuckin' around.

I got this

"Intro"

Verse 1.

Somedays i sit, staring out the window.
Watching this world pass me by.
Sometimes i think, there's nothin to live for, i almost break down and cry.
Sometimes i think im crazy, im crazy o so crazy, why i am here am i just wastin my time?
But then i see my baby, suddenly im not crazy.
It all makes sense when i look into here eye's

Chorus.

Sometimes it feels like the worlds on my shoulder, everyones leanin' on me.
Sometimes it feels like the worlds almost over, but then she comes back to me.

Verse 2.

My baby girl, keeps getting older, i watch her grow up with pride.
People make jokes, cause they dont understand me, they just dont see my real side.
I act like shit dont phase me, inside it drives my crazy, my insecurities could eat my alive.
But then i see my baby, suddenly im not crazy.
It all makes sense when i look into here eye's

Chorus

Verse 3 (rap)

Man if i could sing i'd keep singin' this song to my daughter
If i could hit the notes i'd blow something as long as my father
to show her how i feel about her, how proud i am that got her
god im a daddy im so glad that her mom didnt *censured* (abort her)
Now you'd probely get this picture from my public persona,
that im a pistol-packing drug addict that bags on his mama,
but i wanna take this time to be perfectly honest, cause ther's alot of shit
that i keep bottled that hurts deep inside of my soul
and just know that i grow colder the older i grow,
this boulder on my shoulder gets heavy and harder to hold
and this load is like the weight of the world, and i think my neck is breaking
should i just give up, or try to live up to these expectations
now look, i love my daughter more than life in it self
but i got a wife thats determined to make my life living hell
But i handle it well, givin the circumstances im delt, so many chances
man its to bad i could of had someone else, but the years that i've wasted
is nothing to the tears that i've tasted, so here's what im facing:
three fellonies, six years of probation, i've went to jail for this woman
i've been to bat for this woman, i've taken bats to peoples backs bent over backwards for this woman
Man i should've seen it coming, why'd i stick my penis up it,
wouldn't have ripped the prenup up if i'd seen what she was fucking,
but fuck it, its over ther's no more reason to cry no more
i got my baby, baby the only lady that i adore (hailie)
so sayonara, try tomara nice to know you
my baby has travelled back to the arms of her rightful owner
and suddenly it seems like my shoulder blades have just shifted
its like the greates gift you can get, the weight has been lifted
And now it dont feel like the world's on my shoulder, everyone's leanin' on me
Cause my baby knows that her daddies a soldier, nothing can take her from me.

"Outro"

I got the lrics from HERE


Yeah I got my fucking baby back, I got my fucking deal approved ! * cheasy dance*

Last Time I Had Custody

Amanda These Days

Today I am better than yesterday but still I see some degradation of motor control, speach is fine, balance is alright but I won't be joining the circus like planned at 2yrs old. Degradation of fine motor skills including hand-eye coordination. I can still type obviously but for how much longer I don't know. Blackouts are more frequent, as well as "light headed" feeling. The rush of the light headed feeling back to reality is kind of a rush but I rather not have it, tuvm.
I still have no word on my MRI, as I might have said prior that it can take up to or more than 3 months to get an appointment.
I need to talk to my doctor, or maybe I should save it for my neurologist appointment but that's next month (March 11th). I'm sure it will come up at my Psychiatrists first appointment (February 25th) at the Anxiety Clinic down on 250 College Street. Dr. Stephen Sokolov, I wonder what to expect of him, from what I read that he is VP of medical Affairs at CAMH. Wow, I feel speshal now /sarcasm.
All i can do is yawn all fucking day, and Im not even fucking tired.
I swear if I end up in a bib and dribbling on myself, someone come on by and put me to sleep permanantly. Seriously. Not a fucking way to go man. I watched my granparents go out wit ha whimper, actually my grandmother kinda faught to her stubborn core, she refused food for 2 months, she was GTubed and IV fed and Ensure before they realized their fuck up because she had a DNR Order. Then they just let her go. She died in front of me probably arguing with St. Peter himself.

Ive been talking in my sleep again aparently. So that means, well..... yeah.... I told someone *aheam* Yeah and so yeah Mr. Whaa Whaa wasn't to happy. How the fuck is it that I can not even see you for 4 months and not think of you for a month really, and now I'm calling out your name at night.....fack! I guess its good you dont read this, talk about an ego booster.

Even my brain is epic fail.

FACK.

You were never there for me when I needed you, every single time you were fucked up and high. So of course when I need you the most, you don't know because you are too caught up in your life and the lifestyle. You always said i would follow in line with nick, how true it might ring now but you know what? You will never know cause you know why? I rather mom not know, it would literally drive her insane. more so than she is.

Happy Birthday Dad. I love you.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aoLFISIdH8g

Time tio pull my fucking head into gear. Month after month I run out of medication early and leave myself suffering for up to 3 weeks until I receive my next script. IVing ridiculous amounts of morphine in such short time frames. Using over 500mg in a day sometimes, tolerance sky rocketing and making stabilizing back on tramadol and codeine that much more painful each time. It used to be almost pain free switching back to tramadol. Not now, not now that I’ve picked up my nastiest habit since the fentanyl escapades.

It mightn’t be much compared to a lot of people, but when I’ve got chronic pain and I’m fucking myself over in this vicious cycle, it hurts badly physically and emotionally. Each time it seems I’m closer to reaching for the rope and heading down to the river to find a nice tree.

It’s got to end this moment. It’s time to take control again, to learn self control. It’s been going on for about 3 years now. Who in their right mind would do this to themselves over and over? I’m lucky I haven’t fucked up a pill count yet and been kicked off altogether. Piss tests are no worry to me because I don’t use any street drugs other than weed and my doctor endorses it.

I guess I just wanted to get this off my chest and begin the quest to take control again. I guess I’ll keep updating this weekly or every few days with how I’m managing and feeling.

I feel pretty vulnerable right now, I’ve never shared a blog before let alone let another person read my diary, so go easy on me guys.

I have this as an open letter to you, in the just in case scenerio. I have to wait 3 months for my MRI lovely huh? While some forign shitstain can be eating away at my brain. Meh that's Ontario Healthcare for you. Hey, do you want me totally out of your life? I dunno anymore, much of anything.
I fucked up, I AM fucked up. We both have our issues. can we grow up and realize we are both adults here and get over the stupidity that wasn't completely MY fault, it takes 2 to tango babe, and it didn't help that I was on behaviour altering medications that YOU KNEW would fuck me up for a good few weeks, I even TOLD you they would. Yet you say you want to continue what we have but yet as soon as some girl you used to date comes into town i become old news.
I am not sour, just confused, I actually believed you when you said you loved me. I guess your joke fell short on me, cause I don't understand. Now I can't even talk to you, I've been asked to leave you alone and wait for you to contact me. You know what though sweetheart, maybe when asking that of someone.....make sure they might not be on a life altering time limit....as in you know..... possibly DYING! Im sorry if I seem sour here, cause I am not, I am just confused. Can we just cut out the bullshit and tell the truth, you know Im not a fragile pettle sweetheart, I can take rejection when I know you mean it. Then again I just risked a save-able relationship, children, and sanity to be with you. Yet you seem to act like you were the risk taker in it all. I guess I talked to much about me and didn;t listen enough to YOU. I've always been there for you, when we were on better terms, I was always fucking there.....good or bad. Cause that's how friends roll. Im not angry, please don't think that. Im far from angry at you. Never have been angry. Just confused. Ok I was a little angry at first and said some horrid things to you that I never meant. You helped me realize that I need to better myself to be the better me, the saner me, and because of you I am on my way to being healthy in mind but this old body might give out sooner than hoped. You always said you would die young, but it seems that I might beat you to the punch.....who knows. I hope fucking not, that would fucking suck.
Dude, I fucking miss you. Its been a hell of a bore without you around and in my life. I miss the cuddles and falling asleep together, watching movies, and munching on junk food and walking and talking for hours on end. I miss everything though you could never understand why I ever stayed around. It was you, you were beyond what you thought about yourself, a sweet man with a good soul and handsome/sexy didn't help any matters.....that and both of our perverted minds and flirtations. Mutual morbid humor perhaps? LOL
I wish you would just MSN me, I miss you tons my friend, and hope that this "friend" who is relaying messages is right and you will contact me someday, and hopefully its not some day too late.
If nothing else besides friendship, all I wish is forgiveness for my psycho act. I miss your face, your eyes, your sly quirky shy smile. I used to love to cuddle and touch your face, your hands, your body.
At a time I need a REAL friend the most, and no one is here..... I feel so alone.
You used to come in here, I don't know anything anymore, I wish I did still know what to expect from you but after that sly drop out from left feild, I don't think I really ever knew you at all, besides what you told me about yourself.
I really don't know anything anymore...... I don;t even know why I am writing this.....
Are you still online? I dunno.... I just felt like writing to you, after all I am the psycho one jah?

I guess I just needed to talk. Maybe. maybe I just needed to say for the millionth time that I miss you. I can wait as long as you need but I dunno how long my body can function until that time arises, so i will just say I can wait..... but spare me the ever more hurt, if you dont ever want to see me again, just say so, ok?

I miss you, and that flea infested cat and I cannot lie, why should i lie when I have nothing left to lose really, I already look stupid here and you already called me psycho. I can;t help but to still love you. I thought you did too, at least that's what you said but then in front of the whole world practically you called me a psycho fall fling. Yes, that stung quite a bit. More so when just days before you were proclaiming love and "getting closer".

What the fuck do I know about men though huh? 2 failed engagements with men who were just the opposite of what you are.

I dunno what to think anymore.......

.......Tell me what to think huh bru.


Not that I expect a reply from you......ever.

I guess I am just hopeful, call me a fool I guess, I am hopeful things can be worked out.

*shrugs*

I know Im sorry might not be enough but fack I dunno what to say, or do, or think or want or fuck.....not a hellva anything.


P.S. I Heart You



Now I better get my ass to bed or I'll be a raging cunt in the morning and a pounding migrane da boot.

I hope you are safe and warm and happy and doing well.

FACK i better go before I start tearing up over..... i dunno.....

*sigh*

Awesome!

Valentines is usually a depressing holiday for me. Even in the past if I have had a valentine, it seems like forced affection that I'm trying to show and something fake about the whole thing, but this past Valentine was actually quite different. I spent this Valentine with my friend K who i've been seeing for a little while now. We work together so when we got off work we headed towards my place and stopped for some Italian food on the way there. There was no WAIT! and the food was pretty good, overall it was a good start. When we got to my place we let the food settle for a bit and planned on taking some Methylone, this was K's first time trying Methylone and my 3rd time.

We dosed the Methylone in gel capsules just after 8 p.m. We each took 200 mgs +/- 20 . The effects came on about 45 minutes later. There was a very gradual comeup and subtle peak unlike my past trial with this dose which was more speedy, probably because of the food. I played music for awhile and we talked to each other and opened up about our views on each other and life.. The best way to describe the substance is a feeling of being content. This experience was not terribly exhilirating like Ecstasy, nor did I feel drowsy and out of it like opiates. K actually said while listening to some music "I'm not terribly high right now, but I would probably be bored if I was not on anything sitting here like this listening to music" which was a good assessment. Downtempo electronic and rock music was played throughout the first couple of hours. There was some nice closed eye images with the music, i hesitate to call them patterns or visuals because it was much subtler than other psychedelics, it felt like a caressing stimulation of mental waves.

At 10 we decided to dose another 125 mgs. She dropped hers at 10 and I snorted mine at 10:15 because she wanted to peak together. We continued to talk and we got slightly more elevated in stimulation and euphoria with the bump. At about 11:00 we had sex and it was probably the most euphoric sex that i've had on any substance. I had trouble reaching climax like E,so it was probably tied with mescaline for overall pleasure since I actually came when I wanted on Mescaline. I definitely preferred the sensation of sex over E though which I was quite surprised by. We cuddled and basked in a euphoric afterglow of sexual pleasure and the waning effects of the methylone.

At midnight as the main effects of the methylone pretty much subsided, so I proceeded to smoke some salvia 10x. I was transported into a geometric 'underworld' where I still held thoughts of certain people in my life from the past and present, I almost had the impression they were there with me in that salvia space. I also had certain fleeting philisophical ideations most of which I had trouble bringing back with me. There was 1 idea that stuck thought and it's something I plan to keep to myself because the way it was presented seemed almost psychic in nature. As I've learned from past experiments Salvia is lengthened slightly by entactogens and I was in a very dissassociated state for about 7 minutes. When I came back, I told K to sit on the bed with me, I began to get in a meditative position and for the next 7-8 minutes I felt in a very spiritual/meditative state with the two energies of the substances combining. With eyes open I felt like I was floating at least a good 2-3 feet above my bed, but obviously I did not look down to ruin the sensation. With eyes closed I got geometric patterns rivaling any psychedelic I have previously done and the interesting thing i've felt about meditating on this combo is I can actually move through the patterns without being overwhelmed. The methylone seems to mitigate the negative aspects of the salvia body high I experience when I try salvia by itself. After about 15-20 minutes after smoking the Salvia I finally came down, trying to catch my breath from the astonishment of what just happened. I cuddled with K for the rest of the night and we fell asleep within the next hour.

I'm on 100mg of methadone. Will I die if I go cold turkey

Right here goes, you work it out...

I’ve been married for 21 years.
I wear my pants for two days in a row.
I've served half my life in the Royal Air Force.
I’m very very lonely.
I have a Jack-a-Doodle dog called Alfie.

I don't want to go to heaven. I've realized this for years. Of course, I don't believe in heaven so that probably has a lot to do with it. I'm just worried that I'll end up there on accident and I won't know anybody. So much for fear of abandonment.

The thing about heaven is that it's an unknown entity. You can't really say exactly what it takes to get in there. Yea, the bible references how we're supposed to be in this life to end up in paradise. But that's not specific enough for me. I'm worried I might be living the kind of life that'll have me in the clouds worshiping his holiness for my afterlife. Who knows, in Jesus's eyes I might be doing shit just right.

What I had in mind instead was the sort of ghostly haunting/lingering of this planet. I think I'd enjoy roaming around unnoticed, looking through people's things. I'd be ethical about it of course. I really think you could learn a lot about people spying on them, going through their medicine cabinets, their sock drawers. The truth about people is often hidden in their sock drawers or bedside nightstand tables.

I've always done this anyway. Some of my favorite times were when I was about 12 and my Dad worked third shift. I'd come home from basketball and there'd be nobody but me in the house. I went through ALLLLL his stuff. It was terribly amazing. I found nail clippers in the shape of a guitar (they're still on my keychain after 12+ years). I found t-shirts that were too small for anyone but me and they were awesome.

Last night I dreamed about stealing a bunch of checks from his dresser. I stole them, wrote and signed them, cashed them and bought a bunch of shit i wanted but very clearly didn't need. I remember back before my dad and i fell out, he thought I was stealing checks from him. It was his girlfriend @ the time in actuality but that doesn't change anything between him and me.

After the dream, I woke up and came downstairs. Then it became now and I'm ending up this post. Have a good day if you're reading this.

I found myself spilling my guts to my mother the other day about my drug use and I still am unsure as to exactly why I did that.
I was overcome with guilt of my continued opiate use and slipping grades. I was also consumed by the fear of never quitting, and always being a total bum. My dream is to go to SUNY ESF next fall semester and get the hell out of my crappy little hick town where the opiate scene is ruining everything.

I am on day 2 of going cold turkey after doing about 10-15 5mg OC generics a day from my friend who got into a car accident and sells part of his script, or this vietnam vet who sells part of is script. I lied to my girlfriend about why I wasn't in school, but I hope it's the last lie I have to tell.
My withdrawals aren't that bad, just the typical watery eyes and sneezing. My mother is watching me like a hawk and she told me she doesn't trust me. The last time I went to out-patient for opiates I hated my group leader. She didn't know shit about life, and I had no respect for her. So I told her that I don't need to go back to there, but I would be better off just joining a gym or something.
I signed up to the YMCA, but I have yet to go.
My favorite singer right now is Todd Snider and a very close second is Oliver Wood of the Wood Brothers. I find myself nearly crying every time I listen to some of their songs. They are just so damn well written.

Nothing changes and it never will.
Sun up sun down everyday stay the same.
Repetition, metaphorical erosion of the spirit.
Rusting promises like skin liable to chap.
Fate is the night light that burns our eyes out as we walk tightropes and dance in circles to the tune of our back's breaking under the weight of living up to potential.
Choke on the smell.

On and on, around and around.
Never missing a beat.
Soldering forward, away from what you truly aspire to be, or to do, or to see, for fear of pushing.
Sinking or sailing, flying or falling, cutting the waves.
Breaching the hull.
Soaring without effort.
Going down in flames.
No ports, no parachutes.

Today is STILL Wednesday,Feburary 17th, 2010 and it is now 745 PM here in Brooklyn, NY, USA.

To continue from my previous entry...

Jackie had her 2nd daughter, giving birth on the floor of her bedroom, which actually is pretty common in the Philippines. At least her family was near and was able to get a liscenced Midwife for her.

The child's father, her "Husband," was on Anti-Insurgency Ops in Gingoog, not too far but by then he was already living with his new girl (whom he may or may not have married) and their recent baby.

He told Jackie that he had arranged a "Legal Separation" from Shari'a Court (Islamic Court) in Zamboanga City. Under the Marcos regime a set of laws were created called the "Islamic Personal Laws." A Shari'a Court system was created but it was entirely voluntary. Indeed, as it turned out the "husband" had never even married her and lucky for him, it could lead to a prison sentence but enough of that for now.

She and her 2 daughters settled into their life...but Jackie began expressing deeper emotions to me when she found out that Rizza was "doing me wrong."

We then began IMing more and more and when I went back to Mindanao to discuss Rizza with her family, I went up to Cagayan and ended up spending 3 days at a hotel in town. See, in the Philippines, no matter your tribe, ethnicity or religion, or what your husband does, women are seen as vile whores if they have any other relationships.

Non-Muslims are subject to Ph Family Law. A great example being "Adultery." It is a crime punishable by prison but only for women. Muslims simply kill. Many non-Muslims also on Mindanao in fact. The word for gossip, or phrase, is "chikka chikka" and it is impossible for me to even go to her house though I am on base often enough.

On my second trip we spent 4 days, and since have been very close to say the least. I never accepted a women with kids before. In fact, the only other Filipina I was involved with besides Rizza was a minor celebrity in the country. A Pampangan (ethnicty from northern Luzon), she was a single mom and in the end I rejected her (took place during my first separation from Rizza about 8 years ago). She was wealthy, an ex-beuty queen (though getting a bit thick by then),and a great girl. I just did not want someone else's child. I know, it is selfish but there it is.

Jackie though...She makes me forget such things.

The intersesting thing though...Apparently the "husbands" new squeeze has had enough of him. He sent Jackie a letter through a squadmate in January. She ignored it. He then made plans to "visit" with his kids. She arranged to be elsewhere. He then showed up unannounced. She refused to come out and called her 1 of her brothers to handle it. The brother escorted the guy and his kids, end of story.

Then, last week, she was outside gardening and he showed up. He told her he and the other girl were over and he wanted to move back in. She laughed at him and said the only problem with that is that she did not love him and had moved on. He could not deal with it, followed her as she went inside and pushed himself into the house.

Locking herself in her bedroom with the girls, she could not get in touch with me. She also couldn't get in touch with her family, 2 rows of housing away since they do not have a phone (like most people on Mindanao).

When I did not hear from her for over a day I became concerned and called her. She was afraid to tell me what happened, fearing I would send someone to "handle" it. She would only cry, and would not tell me what was wrong. Crying, telling me how much she loved me...until finally I got the details out of her. I told her, look, you don't want me to "get it done," you better take the girls and go directly to your family. If he grabs you scream bloody murder (as in most if not all SE Asian Cultures there is a great fear of losing face).

The problem is, she never told her family about his fathering a baby outside the relationship, and carried immense guilt for having run away and getting involved with a Moro. She was petrified about asking her family for help, wracked with guilt.

I told her, you then have 2 choices, let me make a call, or bend over and play house again (am I not so poetic). She agreed she would go to the family and so she did.

He was asleep on the couch, secure in his manliness when both bros and father (also a soldier) came in with an uncle who is a policeman. She laughs as she recallas he looked like an owl. See Jackie is the stereotypical SE Asian woman, accomodating, and of course he never had been challenged.

The worst part was her mom and sisters, now knowing what he had done they were livid (always despising him anyway). They told him to get the fuck out, its over. He begged to be allowed to talk to Jackie alone but they told him he must be fucken crazy. Then he reiterated a long term threat he made ever since they had separated. He will leave but he will take his daughters with him, which causwed her brother the Ranger to kick him in the head. I am sad to say I lauhed at that one.

Muslims believe that the man automatically gets custody, no matter the circumstances.

He left FAST.

2 days later though he turned up again hoping to finally get that "talk alone," thinking her family was putting ideas in her head. This time she was able to cal a neighbour to get her bro the Infantryman. He showed up and asked if he wanted a repeat performance. She did tell him though, once her bro arrived, that he needed to get it through his head that she would never be with him again...

At the same time Rizza has been hankering for another reunion. Always interesting my life, to say the least.

So now Jackie is angling every day to get me to return and move off of Mindanao. I am not sure how to handle that. I do have the studio in Makati, but with 2 small kids that is not going to be "fun."

I cannot make a home with her in Agusan because of my responsibilities to Rizza's family. It would be a slap in the face to bring Jackie there.

I am thinking of Negros, an island in the Visayan chain, just north of Mindanao. The problem is that the language there is a Bisaya language called Ilonggo, and neither she nor I speak it though she says she can understand it. She is quite fluent in Tagalog (I am fair in it) so I may just end up in Makati, but in a bigger unit. Instead of subletting maybe I will buy. I loved the late Xtcxtc's (RIP) duplex in my building though he was a multi-millionaire and I am not. I am thinking just a regular 2 BR.

I would have to fly to Mindanao weekly though, so it is all being worked out, albeit with my heaping of procastination.

As for the rest of my affairs, same as it always was, on 200 mgs of methadone still though only dosing half the week. I last dosed Monday at 8 AM, it is now Wednesday 830 PM and the lack of analgesia is driving me nuts (per my fucked up jaw that I mentioned in my 1st post this evening). I re-dose tomorrow at about 1 PM so I will just try to ride out the pain.

Music wise...Been listening to Buddha Bar "Cafe del Mar Volume 1," GREAT MIX. I actually have a 4GB card in my Sidekick 08, the device I am using to compose this entry. 1000 songs. Me and my mixes though, I top out at 255 tracks. Bunch of Buddha Bar, Hotel Costes, Ministry of Sound and Hed Kandi as usual. Thinking about getting a 16GB for the trip home to Mindanao, figure I will get
1/4th through the tracks by the time I land 22 hours later.

a love story
by jay brannan

i never believed in love
i never believed in love
then love barreled through
changed my view
when love took the form of you

we had a good long ride
yes we had a damn good time
rolling along
unrestrained
to our melody unchained

then i was betrayed by love
something no one warned me of
love pushed me down
on bended knee
then love made a fool of me

so i turned my back on love
yes, i turned my back on love
stick nor stone
came near my throne
while i spent eight years alone

so now i believe in love
yes, now i believe in love
i'll pin love down
make love see
love better believe in me

i'll pin love down
i'll make love
see, love better believe in me

Jay Brannan


I love Jay's music, he's so realistic in his music. He's not afraid to say it how it is.



edit: might have a deal on custody of my baby girl *dance* just gotta wait for a-hole to notify HIS lawyer and I see mine today....maybe by next week it can be over with. One can hope right??

Still Wednesday, Feb 17th, 2010 and it is now 646 PM here in Brooklyn, NY, USA.

OK, so on my last trip to Mindanao we had a meeting about the paramilitary unit I mentioned a long time ago.

The Philippines as a whole is a collection of fifedoms ruled by warl-rds. The southern Philippines, of which Mindanao is the epicenter, is entirely ruled in this fashion.

Family ties, then ethnicity, and then regionalism are what ties these groups into incredibly cohesive groups. There are 2 kinds of official pro-govt. paramilitaries. CVO (Civilian Volunteer Organisations) are entities created within the last 4 years to better train and equip Barangay Tunods. "Barangay" is a word that originally meant "outrigger," as in the boats polynesians use. The traditional tale is that the Bisaya(Visayans), Rizza is a Bisaya, rode these boats from their home island of Borneo far to the south about 900 years ago (I have told most of this long ago ao anyone reading that recalls it, please bear with me).

Today the word signifies "village," and is a basic form of municipal structure. In the southern Philippines, a rural person lives in a "Sitio" (site). A sitio is a collection of homes, usually huts. Different sitios form a "Purok," or "Barangay." A Westerner can equivocate them with "neighbourhoods." A collection of barangays and puroks make up a "town" or "city" (the English is used in this sense). Urbanised communities begin at a Barangay level.

In the southern Philippines, during the Martial Law era of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos each Baranagay was tasked with creating "community watch" type organisations called "Tunods." Unlike Western community watch groups, these were used as bulwarks against secessionist and revolutionary groups.

In 2006 current President Gloria M. Arroyo legalised Tunods as "Force Multipliers." Force Multiplication is a basic principle in Anti-Insurgency. It increase "Friendly Forces" and their potential by inegrating community based elements.

Tunods obviously lent themselves well to this. Thus CVOs took the place in many areas, though there ARE still more innocuous Tunods which continue to function as community policing organisations.

In many areas, if there is a bad domestic dispute a Tunod will be called on. Police generally will not deal with such things.

The second type of orgnisation, the one I am involved with, is the CAFGU-SS. There are actually 2 types of CAFGU, CAFGU per se and the CAFGU-SS.

CAFGU (Civilian Auxiliary Force Geographical Units) are the oparamilitary orgnisations created by the late President Corazon Aquino. When she took power she sough to remake Philippine society, and shake loose the vestiges of the Martial Law era. Marcos had created a paramilitary organisation called the CP (Constalbury Pilipinas), a rehashing of the US created "Philippine Constalbury." CP was created especially to battle the communist insurgency (NPA/NDF i.e. New Peoples' Army, a Maoist group, and their political aparattus, the umbrella organisation National Democratic Front).

The CP however was associated too closely with the Marcos regime. In addition, it was stocked with ex-convicts and had a very unsavouryreputation. Basically, they simply changed the name of CP to CAFGU and voila.

CAFGU-SS is more recent innovation. Where as CAFGU is entirely controlled by the govt, the SS is funded and created by private citizens, land-owners and businessmen such as myself. You make a financial commitment, you recruit your soldiers, and it is up to you how to arm them. You still cooridinate Operations with the AFP, the Ph. Military, which in my case is the 4th Infantry Division out of Camp Evangelista in Cagayan del Oro on Mindanao. The 4th, under General Mario Chan is a decent enough group,but enough of that.

On my last trip we had another meeting at Evangelista, and I saw a "friend" of mine again. Let us call her "Jackie." She is a Lumad-Bisaya, what is known in Bisaya as "Netibo."

Netibo are mixed Bisaya and Lumad. Lumad is a genric term for Mindanao Hill Tribe. Her father is a Hinganao-an. The tribe, animist, once nomadic has pretty much settled in isolated hamlets across the mountains from Esperanza in my province of Agusan del Sur, to their main centre in Claveria, Misamis Oriental. Indeed, her dad is from Claveria.

Sadly, as in all warzones it is the indigenous who suffer the most. Claveria now is being torn apart over illegal logging but that is neither here nor there. Many Lumad, like her dad, are recruited in their young teens as govt. or anti-govt. soldiers. In this tribe's case, they are avowedly pro-govt.

She was born in Evangelista, went to school on base, and all 3 brothers are in the military. The eldest was a Marine, on Jolo, and was killed in an ambush by Abu Sayyaf (Islamic Insurgents) in 2000.

1 brother is Infantry, and the other is a Ranger (Ph apes the US in structure). The only real difference between the 2 in Ph is in their prinmary piece. All carry used M16A1s. Rangers have suppressors and am M79 launcher, end of story.

She was 16 when the eldest bro was killed and took her first trip outside the province to a ceremony in Manila, to honour the fallen. The family was given a military escort on the ferry and one of the soldiers was a Moro (Muslim). This man, 33, a Tausug, hit on her.

The Tausug are a tribe I despise (yeah I said it). The are the main tribe on Jolo (ironic is it not that the guy was probably related to the men who blew her brother up). 60% of Tausug marriages originate in kidnapping/rapes which are acceptable forms of marriage in that "wonderful" culture. Polygamous, they forbid females from education, mutilate their female's genitals, and 70% of Tausug men have less than a 3rd grade education.

To make a long story, she ran away with the guy, and as she turned 17 was married in an Islamic marriage officiated by his uncle. His parents told her, "You are now Muslim" and she believed it meant she had converted without knowing.

Her family disowned her...and then she had her first child in 2005, a girl. The family decided to accept her, her child and her "husband" and try to mend things. They arranged to get the 3 of them base housing adjacent to her family's home. In 2007, pregnant for the 2nd time, she got a wake up call when she inadvertantrly found a text on her husbands cell phone from a Bisaya girl saying she was pregnant!

Without saying a word to him, she went and met the girl, and confronted her. Returning to their home she confronted him. She told him to leave, he refused, she grabbed his 45 and away he went.

In 2008 I met her, as I attended my 2nd meeting at Evangelista. She was about to give birth, and I was married, nothing was said and if I felt anything I was not aware of it though she likes to think otherwise.

I did not have contact with her though I did see her a couple of times after that. Before I left to come to the US to get my Hepatitis treatment she and I agreed to keep in touch solely as friends.

We emailed, and when she finally bought a PC we began IMing a couple of times a week but only as friends. Of course it was at that time that Rizza went off the reservation, but I was careful not to fall into that "Rebound Trap," and to be honest, her baggage was a bit too much for me to consider.

I will have to continue in a subsequent post because of the character count...

Today is Wednesday, Feburary 17th, 2010 and it is now 614 PM here in Brooklyn, NY, USA.

Yet another mont has gone by without posting so let me try to cram it all in here (ooooh, sounds like a date I had last night).

I never progressed far enough in my telling of my life story to discuss my war wounds. The first one, at age 17 in southern Lebanon happened in a firefight on patrol in the Shouf. The Shouf are G-D forsaken mountains where only (formerly) marginalised Peoples like Druse and Maronite Christians live. -n 1984, when I was 17, our big problem was Syria and their puppets, the PLA.

The "PLA" was the Syrian sponsored "Palestinia Liberation Army," as opposed to the famous PLO whom Syria hated. I took bullet fragments that shattered against a concrete wall. They entered under my chin, tore through my jaws and ended up dispersed in my snus cavities. Fun. I was mostly angry more than anything as I remember spitting out teeth before I passed out. The pain was unimagineable when I woke.

I was carried out to a field where a copter took me back south, into Israel, to Hadassah Hospital. I was too fucked up to even enjoy the morphine (that would come with my 2nd wound, the one that made me a junkie).

I am discussing this incident because it left my jaws with micro fractures all over, unable to be repaired. Every few months they go bad and "pain" does not describe what it feels like.

Analgesia for junkies is a terrible affair. All the more for freaks like me who, like many Middle-Easterners (which by the way means all ethnic Jews), has extra enzymatic pathways for p450 (the pathway that metabolises opiates/opioids). Basically, it means I take a freakish amount of opiates/opioids to feel anything. I regularly take 1200 mgs of methadone to "feel it," but enough with the "dick sizing."

What happens at times like this, is my jaw radiates this intense pain, and it causes an intense headache behind my left eye. Often times it will burst a blood vessel. I used to worry that it may cause major complications but have been assured over and over that it will not cause anything major. The pain lasts 3 to 6 days, never shorter, never longer. Imagine a 6 day hangover headache PLUS toothache in every tooth on the left side of your mouth...welcome to my world.

Nobody likes a whiner so I usually just read (counter-intuitive, reading with a massive headache I know), and worry to death any woman I am involved with.

Speaking of which...Rizza was trying to convince me to give it another go but as I alluded to in previous posts I have moved past her and am involved with another woman.

Anyone that followed my Journal would probablly remember my questioning whether -or-not I was fully human because I doubted my ability to love. Well, weird as it is, in my early 40s I think I finally fell. So Rizza is relegated to the hell she has created for herself, her family is hopelessly shamed, and in the end I made out wonderfully. I may talk about it more in a subsequent entry.

My eldest has started his job, taken 3 cruises, uneventfully (thank G-D) through the Molluccas, on tankers out of Brunei. One would not think so but the primary loads hijacked are petrol. Whether the Gulf, West Africa or SE Asia they are after the black stuff. I gues it makes sense.

Me? I follow the trade, there is a trade journal that highlights interdiction and the geopolitical strands that make up SE Asian smuggling, but they do not cover the petrol aspect.

I wil close this boring entry and think about gossping about my personal life in a following entry, get my mind off that imaginary finger poking out my eye...fun to be me.