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Edit- Just testing

Since my last post things have necessarily calmed down a bit and I am grateful although still a bit stressed but otherwise somewhat calm.

Kristen sensing impending financial doom is sound asleep somewhere in the back of my mind letting me work steadily and consistently for the past 3 days. I'm still medicated but at the very lowest dose possible. A good parasite knows not to kill its host.

Oh, happy mothers day by the way. Congratulations on your ability to produce human larvae which I'm sure will grow up to be fine upstanding citizens. I wonder if there is a mothers day for fish or kangaroos or viruses that produce offspring in the millions? Kristen's mom was very happy with the flowers she sent and probably by now watching some sitcom. Television, the true opiate of the masses. She produced an outstanding creature, she deserves them.

Okay, so the poll was totally serious (other than the four option which makes Kristen smile) and if you know about guns PLEASE give me some advise by either voting or leaving me a comment sending me an email. While half of me was refined by Beverly Hills finest, I live in a very different neighborhood. I am no stranger to guns but handguns are not my area of expertise. I did however do a bit of research and narrowed it down to those two models. I even went to the store and handled about 20 different makes/models and liked the Glock for its light weight( I have arms like an anorexic supermodel) and reputation of being reliable. 9mm is good stopping power without the recoil of a larger shell. I also know Glock is the choice for law enforcement and has a 17 round clip (which must be modified to 10 rounds in California). Why do I need a gun? Why not? Kristen has survived a home invasion once and now sleeps on the verge of waking. So over coffee one morning we debated...

Kristen: Hey, lets go buy a gun.

kristen: huh?

Kristen: Remember the shit that went down before. I haven't slept well since that night.

kristen: Bullshit Kristen. We are drugged into oblivion each night. The only reason you wake up is cause you need more junk.

Kristen: Your sound asleep but I'm always awake listening and waiting...

kristen: So the Gated entrance, the double steel reinforced doors, the motion detectors and the video camera's just are not enough, eh?

Kristen: Not to me.

kristen: Alright, fuck it. (looks up gun dealers on web)

Kristen: Laser sight. Fixed sights are no good in darkness.

kristen: Right. Would you like to up-size your order with a side of grenades for an extra 50 cents? Jesus, Kristen.

Kristen: You have enough narcotics to drug a small country and enough expensive tech to make this place a target.

kristen: welcome to the jungle.

Kristen: Fun and games.

kristen: Ok, Ok, what about a week ago when we on the very edge of psychosis from what you decided was a needed 'phet mission' and ended up paranoid, seeing spiders scurrying around our desk, and those goddamn shadow people (side note - many people on amp for extended periods bordering on temporary psychosis see the "shadow people", there should be a wiki on it). So given that do you think its wise we have firearms?

Kristen: I TOLD you to ignore that shit, didn't I?


It's strange and maybe appropriate being mothers day but when my grandmother died a few years ago I felt nothing. She was schizophrenic and my whole life she was so heavily drugged that she really was not there. As I kid I never really understood what her 'reality' was when she was not drugged into being zombie and so I had no feeling toward it or toward her death since there was no real communication. But in the dark and disturbing hours that passed where I think Kristen did take me over that line for a little while and where I was not completely in reality I suddenly realized what life must have been like for her. Hearing sounds and not knowing if they are real or imagined, seeing things appear out of nothing and disappear as fast, the paranoia, the feeling of being watched while alone, the terrifying idea that this state might persist and I would not return. And finally, the realization that reality is an illusion of stability that can falter at any moment. For the first time in my life I actually felt very very sad for her, a life spend in that place where nothing is what it seems.

I'm sipping my liquid crack (starbucks - 4shots - venti) and looking at my production schedule again...


originally posted here:
http://kristenincontrol.blogspot.com/2009/05/mothers-daze-and-liquid-crack.html

Lately I've been feeling really self-reflexive, and while it can be useful at times I get worried that I will withdraw too much. However, I do tend to learn something whenever I get this way.

For example, lately things have been a bit weird at work. Nothing bad really, although things seem to be heading a bit south as far as the major project is going. But little things are bugging me, like how my coworkers react to me, how I react to them, and how they interact without me. It's probably my social paranoia acting up again, but sometimes I feel like they're just getting ready to get rid of me. Which is silly, since I'm the only chemist there who is 'comfortable' with trying to solve chemical problems.

But why am I doing this? As in why am I a chemist? I got onto this path through my fascination with psychopharmacology, both recreational and therapeutic. After trying to get a degree in the field, I found out really early that biology is not my thing. Fair enough. But chemistry was amazing. First it was mostly just the synthetic side of things that I loved, but eventually I learned to adore the theoretical end as well. My appetite for learning new things was growing, and yet was always near-sated.

Then I started working. I don't use anything past 2nd year analytical chem. The reactions that I perform on a daily basis could be done by a mid-level high-school student. Yet I still enjoy being able to solve problems. Sure, I wish that I had the chance to play with more complex apparatus, or perform more involved, multi-step syntheses. But I suppose this is okay for now.

My restaurant idea has been pushed to the back burner of late, but having met with my friend S on Tuesday I realized that I have still been thinking about it. I happened across a show on the Food Network a couple of weeks ago that involved a fellow who at one point ran a small restaurant entirely by himself. He did the prep, took reservations, cooked, tended bar, bussed, served, did the dishes, everything. The latent (but getting louder) control freak in me really dug this, and the challenge of it would be amazing. Plus I could cook whatever I wanted whenever I wanted; the idea of such a small restaurant is that the menu would be constantly changing, so I could always be playing. Such fun!

But at the same time it would be really hard to pull in a good living doing just that. Only serving 20-30 dinners in a busy night just won't cut it. So that has to go even further on the back burner, for after I have a successful larger restaurant.

Or maybe not. In the right location and with the right marketing I might be able to pull it off. Maybe not here though. Man I'm indecisive.

it was teacher appreciation week at work and lots of kids brought in presents for us. one child was super excited to give me her present. there was some soap all nicely wrapped up but that wasn't what she was so excited to give me. also inside was a pink paint swatch which was what she and her little sister picked out all by themselves. the child was so proud and happy and convinced that she picked the perfect pinks to give me all by herself.

its silly little things like that which keep me from quitting my job

aaa

I am back on smokes more than ever. Like 1-2 packs a day and of many brands.

Have packs of newports, parliament lights, camel lights, camel unfiltered, camel crush, marlboro "reds", two types of djarum clove cigs, a bag of roll your own, and a bag of pipe tobacco w/ pipe. I smoke all of these daily and have been for the past month since i relapsed.

I am finally able to go to a bar and socialize without having nothing to do half the time if i am not drinking. My social life is better than its been in a while. Ive met tons of new people. But a feel like a piece of shit, and worse perhaps is that i feel like shit from the cigs. Even though i love them i know how much better my body feels without them.

During an anxious comedown from some L, in a tent, i once wrote in anguish "why do we do this to ourselves?"

Thats how i feel. Weak! But i love to smoke...

arggg time to light up another

its weird seeing old posts of mine bumped back to the top.

as i mentioned in a thread, i used to be far more open on here than i am now. so its interesting to read back thru what i posted here, as opposed to now. for the first few years i was a member here, BL and real life was separated. now they are pretty intertwined. and i wonder what people (who i now know in real life) would think if they read some of the stuff that has been bumped.

oddly enough, there is a thread where someone asked a question similar to what i mentioned above and i said that it would not matter. while i am not all that worried about these old posts, i am a wee curious if anyone will read them and rethink how they view me.

Wow, journal has gone. I wish I had of known so I had the chance to salvage anything I may have wanted to keep.

Bummed.

I was readin on somebody on here talkin about hood coppin. How they scared due to race, apearance, how they will stand out and all that. I dont want to tell them that they can be jus like the bum they step around on the corner some day. Not tryin to be somethin they aint, but a real , live, hood rat, scramblin thru the trash piles every day like its just another part of life. It takes time but youll see it. I guess I rather not tell em. Keep em to their over price bundles and coppin in the nice part of town.

..............

I aint somebody whose roots is outside the hood so maybe it makes me different than some of the rest of yall. I dont know. I know there is a select few on here who knows wat it is like to not be viewing it from the other side of someone with no bizness bein on the block. Some of the earliest memories of my childhood is in paterson n Ive always felt, na known, in my heart that it was home, even tho I moved away at a young age, i still spent about half my time down there back and forth as i got older. It was never too far away, and it was never a place i thought of as soemwhere to get drugs...It was just where we went when we needed our car fixed, or to buy a car, or to visit family, or watever it was, paterson was home base even after leaving. so i never viewed it as the place that some of yall did. as a "scary ghetto" or a place to get drugs. It was just , paterson. The place my heart is born from.

As I got older and heroin took hold I realized there was a whole lot more to the city than my cousin on Montgomery st. tho.

Anyways , My point is, I been doin this shit so long, Im in it for life now. People in the hood know me. Everytime Im down there whether its coppin or for watever other reason Im there for, I see people I know. I dont even mean my friends, I mean jus the people on the street, the people in the stores, I see people I dont even know, who know me. "Hey ma I seen you on broadway last week!" "Mamichula U was at the bar on lafayette and e. 19th last time I seen u!" people is suprised cuz Im white. They remember my face but they see me over and over and kind of wonder wat the hell she is doin down here anyways.

Like I said. I lived on North 3rd st cross street with jefferson for a lil while. Well, If you dont know about northside, thats on you. I aint one of the kids from fair lawn or wayne who goes from my nice coldesac over to the hood to cop and then share my bricks with my collar poppin tanning bed slut guys n girls. I hate those people. I know they gotta get their fix just like me, but it hurts me, it feels like they are using my city, and it aint even my city to say i own, but damn. Think of it as something more. It makes me sick the whiteboys who drive thru to cop their dope and laugh at the milk crates nailed to the telephone pole for a ball game, who start cussin 'Fucking lazy nigger!" When their guy dont pick up the phone. Ugh. the word makes me sick inside , thinkin of my best friends, maybe someday my daughter or son, having to hear those words against them. So easy to come here and take wat you want, and leave wat you dont. The people here, aint got that choice. Only to keep on trying , prolly off your dirty dope dollar.

People come to use and abuse. To take pictures of the projects for their deep and thoughtful photo albums. whether they realize it or not, thinking they are sympathetic to the people there, thinking I dont know the hell wat, I want to tell them get the fuck out. For every "touching" or "symbolic" moment that lense and shutter snaps and freezes in time, there is a 100 fold repetition of the same ol shit, every damn day, all over the city, just a part of life, outside that liberal college students camera.

A real life that goes on and continues and hurts and bleeds and suffers and cries, whether or not there is a audience to witness it and comment on some stupid fuckin blog about the subject and composition of the photo. To come in as spectators and all watch the way "the forgotten class" lives. Well I dont want you watchin me and my moves and the moves of all the lost and disconnected souls wanderin in and out the projects and buildings and porches of Silk city.


I might not of spent every moment as a kid raised in paterson. I got raised with the hood values and the usual shit. lights gettin turned off, waitin on the check to get some food , nothin for lunch but crackers and water and drinkin Kool Aid without no sugar in it cuz we didnt have none. But it was outside paterson. the disconnect put me away for a few years. but dope brought me home in a funny way. it dont make a difference. My address on my driver license might say that I live in a po dunk town in north jersey, a place where suburban kids drive their parents escalades to paterson to cop, but when Im back in the hood its flowin thru my blood like I aint left. silk city in my left tittie til the day I die.....

You spend enough time on the streets , you become the streets. I dont feel like I can ever go back. My mother tried to move me away as a kid so the streets didnt get to me and change me as I was growin up but it was too strong and as soon as I was old enough I was gettin into that shit anyways. Nothin can change the inevitable. I dont feel no fear of the unfamiliar walking the block. Just the same old heavy-ass weight in my chest knowing wat Im doing is slowly killin me shot by shot. But shots or not, Ima still be on the block. i cant live without the corner store, the rubber band nappy head of my best friends daughter while i sit on the porch and watch her hair get twisted into some bouncy lil braids that will flop up and down while she skips up the street to the stop sign. I cant breathe without the pink tinged sky of the night time, without the hot breeze thru the dark streets makin me feel like I live forever. The trees growin up thru the windows of the house across the street are just a friendly reminder that everythings eventual and its comforting in a way that we all someday gonna turn into decay. My house sits on a piece of grass. A deck in the back. Only gets robbed once a couple months. I got the online and the cable TV, I dont know for how long with how money is right now but, We aint taping garbage bags over broken glass windows for now. But my heart beats in time with the streets, too far gone to change, the mark is permanent, a wall built up over years and years, eyes dried from tears and empty of fears. hardened n wiser, cool talkin smooth walkin with a dip in my hip and a smile at my lip, aint scared to stand proud as wat I am, not so much a stranger but a daughter come home to a land I made my own.

I've done a report on the incident, which can be watched here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5bvWd6-39Q

I am happy today, super super kawaii happy. It won't pay a billion dollars but I will be able to pay down my credit cards and survive a recession that devastated me financially last year to the point of virtual submission, a statement which probably carries all the wrong connotations when being viewed from the perspective of Jamshyd if he's reading this .

But yeah, I got the call this morning and have had a patch on since yesterday (nicotine patch, of course....... ) to numb me to whatever the result of the interview would be for a few days. And sure enough, when I got the call this morning I arched my back and just started smiling and stretching out my whole body like it's the first time I've ever been alive. It seriously feels so good to know that I will survive on my own when I was gradually turning into a dependent with a massive self-medication problem, which would probably turn me into a gigantic sack of shit if I didn't start becoming self-sufficient in a way other than shifting money around from here to there in an attempt to empty water out of a sinking ship.

I just need to put everything into it, starting today even though it's only paperwork that needs to be taken care of right now. Today is the first day in a while where I'm not going to feel bad about enjoying a day full of video games.

http://www.natvan.com/adv/2005/07-02-05.html

lol some white power site talking about a rainbow gathering from a few years ago. LOTS OF LAUGHS!

is probably the most satisfying and frustrating thing i know of (to draw and look at)

I find baiting contenders are but mere pretenders that rarely tend to be tender.
Although disheartening, it serves to lighten the search for empathetic digg duggers outside the boundaries of a well lined tunnel of infinite contradiction.
These include, any and every being flying past the bird's of prey, into closer beacons of a genuinely glowing acknowledgement to realities that may not be understood by some, but estimated by many.
Direct assertiveness walks faster than it runs, in any direction.
Answer me in the forums if your collective is clear.

Edited for: Spaces Between
_________________
|| Life's definition lives through refinement. ||

Man before I get into that topic, I am happy to say that I have a serious interview for a serious business job in about 9 hours. This will mark the six month or so I've been unemployed as hell, and goddammit this job is coming not a minute too soon. I have about enough money for another month and then I would really have to declare bankruptcy (like really, as in I should have declared it last May. I checked out my tax return, which cost like a billion dollars to prepare because of all the options trades, and my total capital losses were much more than I expected. I thought it was only 25,000 but it was actually 35,000. Bad news bears. Good news is that I'm not going to pay a lot of taxes for 09 unless I get really good at my job really fast. I really just need like 20k in the bank to feel secure after what I've been through. I was on the verge of committing suicide every day with a real live shotgun for a while there, and I just recently started talking to my friends again after a four month period of being basically catatonic and worthless, and they're being really cool and understand that I was super depressed and all of that good stuff.

Anyways, I didn't know what to do with myself for a while there so I started working toward completing the hours necessary to become a CPA and was recruited by the IRS for some really great job but I just couldn't do it. It was an expensive lesson but I figured out that I may not be too stupid to be an accountant, but I really just don't give a flying shit about the subject, and if there is something interesting then I'll get my accountant to tell me about it when it comes up. It's great they can feed all of that information into the information chain. Without them man I guess the world would fall apart, and I have a lot of respect for them and can speak their language but the subject has a habit of turning my brain completely catatonic. I hate fucking around with SQL, I hate fucking around with building any sort of database. I just want to use the damn things, not buy them wedding rings and have kids with them. To each his/her own I guess.

So I continued along the path this semester, and I didn't go to class, failed more than anyone has failed before because I didn't even open the books, and didn't even try to drop the classes after scoring 20% on all my tests just by eenie meenie minie moeing my exams, and didn't even bother showing up to the final or justifying any of it to the professors or even to myself. Fuck accounting, end of story. Lessons cost money, and I still have transcripts that show I can be good at it but no one will ever see this semesters grades. If they ask I'll just tell them the truth - fuck accounting, fire me. Why would I get another masters just to kill time. That is so pussy, and I just couldn't do it. All it would do is overqualify me for every entry level position in the world, and once the economy swings back I'll be hanging around a bunch of people at work that I would like to see impaled on a really long query or smashed by a giant box of audit data that for some reason wasn't imaged. But I really like them. I always got along with accountants, science guys, architects, and otherwise obsessive and happy people the best.

Lawyers are great to do coke with, but their family lives are seriously fucked. There's this one in Houston who has made all kinds of case law and is captain awesome according to Saudi Royals (who dual wield planes into the twin towers) and newspapers around the world but godammit he has seven kids and has had 5 wives. He is always sweating like he could never figure out the mixture of cocaine and liquor that is not destined to make his heart stop one day. I like him just fine, but Jesus Christ it's like he needs to visit the make-up room every time he goes anywhere. I just hope he doesn't go and die on me because he's full of useful beans and I've got at least one finger one of his pies.

I can't really judge. No one takes more pills than me, true story. I switched up the order of consumption one day and went to a taqueria afterward. For about an hour after that I seriously thought I was having a heart attack. All I ate was a milanesa torta and a chicharron taco, for christ sake. I look great on the outside, but there is definitely something wrong on the inside just like that lawyer who I will probably never really know, as in really, really know. Some people keep it locked up their whole lives, but the proof is in the pudding since you have to interact with other people. He spreads a large amount of professional and political win, but it doesn't take a microscope to see that he's miserable as fuck and his family probably is too.'

Longest post ever, brought to you by the guy who is going to put on a suit tomorrow and walk into an office and literally have a gameplan that involves nothing more than playing politics until I max out my money and secretly get people ahead of me fired or demoted like the company is a video game. And yeah it's just a first interview but it's the same chick that interviewed me before a year ago when I turned the job down. We'll most certainly end up having sex in her office, as is evidenced by the fact that I accepted her job offer a year ago and didn't show up to my first day at work because I hedged my bets and actually started working for another company that same day. And she still calls me lol, the day after I run into her, for an interview. I'm staying up all night tonight and I'm going to be James Bond wasted during the interview and still get the job. Jesus it will be nice to have some money again.

i have waited till the last possible minute to finish an assignment and now i am regretting it. when will i ever learn to do things a little bit at a time?

Today was a strange day, as my days go. It all begun so promisingly and went south so quickly.

Life lately has been like that for me. It seems a little bit strange and disconnected. I'm living in this twilight in a corner of London and nothing is a reality to me.

I lacked a routine for maybe five years, but the past nine or ten months are abysmal. Apart from leaving the country on various trips, I have barely interacted with any people other than my housemates,blow-ins and various shopkeepers, mechanics, hookers, dealers and postmen.

I've been drinking a truly inspiring amount of alcohol, upward of 80 units a week consistently, sometimes way more. I smoked about three grams of skunk per day,every day.

My phone is old, and it no longer makes any kind of sound to indicate a call or a message, so I generally pick up calls after the fact. I switch it off a lot too. I don't answer e-mails on time, if I answer.

This is no good. This isn't my life.

I shall not become a skinny forty-something booze-hound with burst veins up and down my bastard nose, letching after young women and nursing my fucking sense of angst. Fuck that for a laugh.

This is no sudden revelation though. Been here before. This fucking town, these fucking people, so many of these people. Millions upon millions upon millions all screaming and wailing for their cut, their share, for their story to be told somewhere, sometime.

I cannot live in London a sober man. I've been away frequently this year, and last. I have travelled to a good many of the Western European countries for weeks here and weeks there. Took weed with me, had money. Guess what? I had one or none almost every night I was out of town.

So I stopped, I'm not drinking, as of nine days back. Been exercising and eating well. Mood is volatile as hell. Veer between feeling volatile as hell and fragile as eggshell. Still anti-social as fuck. Though that's probably the weed.

Smoked the last of it at 3am. The Final Joint. Shit, how many times have I said that in my lifetime?, 4pm this evening two friends and I went and bought more.

Just on the way, a man drove his car into the right rear wheel of mine as I was making a right turn. I have fat rims on the back, so my car was not damaged, but his bumper was ripped open.

As my car was undamaged and he was in the wrong,I was letting it go, but the fucker wanted details of my insurance company. I smelt a scam and said that we better call the police. Then he got in his car and sped off around the block, so my friend walked after him and we drove the other way.

Then it got stranger as a bunch of Somalian (pirates??) attacked the two guys who had been in my car as they walked past the same car parked outside a shop. They only threw one, and my friends didn't throw back, to their benefit I guess.

Then car guy and another guy and his nephews showed up to where I was, blissfully unaware, in my car around the corner. It was cool after that though. We established that liability was not mine and everybody backed off with dignity intact.

Following that incident I came home and proceeded to get high as fuck. But this is definitely my last bag of weed O.K?

i took the amtrak from GR down to chicago this morning and picked up my jeep from my little brother. he wasn't really excited to give it up but whatever lol.

i found a figure drawing group that meets every thursday starting next thursday, which is exciting. my adviser said she could probably get it set up where i could sort of audit an adjunct prof.'s entry level figure drawing course for the summer semester, but i thought that might be a little too much.

i didn't want to step on anyone's toes / feel like i was intruding with that course, or feel like i was being rude if i didn't make it at the 8.30 start time / stay for the whole 8.30 - 4.00 studio time so i'll stick with just the weekly pay sessions.

meanwhile, trying to ramp up my time actually spent drawing. i took my computer off the table and put it on a small end table in my room so i would have to crouch and be uncomfortable on the floor if wanted to waste time on the internet. yeah so now my back hurts lol.

i really would like to open illustrator up and get back into that, but man i got all this space to spread out and work traditionally which i didn't have like 2 weeks ago.