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I feel like I'm not fulfilling my life's purpose. All my time is taken up by studying and work, but I feel like time is running out to save the Earth, and that I'm wasting it by not going out and DOING things. I want to plant trees full-time, and coordinate volunteers to restore plants and wildlife throughout cities. I hate that I'm waiting and waiting to do this, because I know I have the skills to do it now.
I just feel obligated to finish school mostly because I want to say I've completed it, but the extremely heavy courseload and work is taking a heavy toll on me - I'm addicted to higher and higher doses of amphetamines (adderall) to get through the day, because I'm ignoring my body's need to rest a lot. I don't have time to eat, or meditate, or take care of myself in any way. I'm getting gaunt, strung out and burnt out.

I don't have time to do anything that I feel is meaningful. I like my classes, but I feel like I'm wasting my time - our society is going to collapse SOON, and I'm not ready for it. I feel trapped in this charade of sorts, everywhere I turn I am locked in and kept from fulfilling my life's purpose and kept from being fulfilled in my physical, emotional and spiritual life. I don't know how other people manage it - either they are superhuman or I am just really stupid or I am just missing something here. What am I missing?

On a more positive note, my friend and I are starting to plant trees with a local nonprofit, starting next Saturday if they have room for us. I am really trying to do meaningful things that will help our planet... I'm just not as good at it as I could be.

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where are the good partys and raves in Ottawa.. I just mkoved here and im trying to find a good place to dance my ass offf.

I saw her mention sephora so I ducked onto ebay and searched for sephora lipsticks. Bought 7 of them plus 2 adjuster toner things for $20.

Then bought some items from kazzikass, an alternative clothing/ stuff store.

Bought pair of japanese ballet slippers, a one piece bathing suit, a bikers mask that looks like a skeleton (for nude shots hee hee) and something else. Cant remember.

I sent T** a text telling I wanted to fuck him. Becazuse I do. Hes so sexy. This is torture. I hope I meet someone else who is better and turns me on more soon. He doesnt want me. Thats fine. I just wanted his cock for an hour or so. Just to play with. But it wont happen.

Oh btw Im engaged to a stranger who likes birds.

New Years was a bust thats for sure, got nothing this year. I did look but, although it seem that there are some batches that rock in NY and NJ they all seem to just not be anywhere in my reach.

Although the last stuff i got was kinda crappy and lasted less then an tylenol.
Yup this sucks...a few years ago i got some of the best batches out there and now your lucky if you can get your hands on something somewhat ok.

I guess after reading the pill report i got crancky. lol

there just seem to be very few out there that can get anything and even less of those that I know.

sigh...i wish i would have paid more attention in chem class

Whenever I get bored I window shop online. Sometimes I buy stuff. Not always. Maybe 25% of the time. That might be a little high.

I wish when I got bored I read, or I did something mentally stimulating instead of browsing sephora or clothing sites. But no, I'm wiped out from my day at work and I don't want to think.

It seems that the supreme court has done away with the exclusionary rule in the case of simple police mistakes . If you don't want to read the text, I'll give the gist: Herring was stopped by police, who checked their computer system and discovered that he had an active warrant. However, the warrant had been recalled five months previous, and the computer system had not been updated. Prior to obtaining confirmation, the police arrested him, and did a search incident to that arrest, discovering amphetamine, and an unloaded pistol. The supreme court decided that since it was a simple mistake, that the exclusionary rule doesn't apply, and upheld the convictions for the gun and drugs.

To me, it's complete bullshit. It offers no repercussions for police misconduct.

I also recently discovered that if someone gives consent to search property that they have no authority to give consent for, the search is valid, given the police reasonably believe the person had common authority to consent to the search.

The fourth amendment is officially dead.

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Last Minute Lasagna
Layer 1 - Tomato sauce, ricotta, mozzarella and grated Parmesan
Layer 2 - same as above plus spinach, parsley, onions and corn

Salad
Nothing special with balsamic dressing and garnished with shredded carrots

Curry potato salad
Potato, celery, the rest of the mayo, vinegar, salt, pepper, and a lot of curry

Dessert
Apple cake with crispy apple topping

There was allegedly another lasagna with ground beef but I had no hand in making that one.

And I'll be in leftover heaven for the next 5 days.

I don't know how the computer made it with me, but I'm not of this world anymore. I'm here with the "we." They won't tell me what their names are, but they wait for me every time we trip. Lurking in the shadows, watching me, but they only interact with me when I'm here. I don't know where here is... it looks so much like my own reality, but...

Is this what the inside of my head looks like? Is there always elevator music playing? We aren't sure anymore. I saw the tunnel in the sky today. They beckoned me, waiting on every side of me to take me away. Luckily for me it's still light out.

I'm going to go back tonight, but it will be through a different portal this time. No more boredom on my part, that's for sure. I'll trust the "we" and see what happens.

I'll report back again, but only if the computer decides to join me again.

How am I typing this?

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Anyway, here. Have fun.

Has anyone ever encountered the "we" before? The otherworldly presence you can't describe and never have names? I encounter this every single time I do salvia.

The events of today have left me sorta down in the dumps.

I tell you, it's not easy being Travis Evans LeBlanc. I know what you think of me. A suave sophisticated continental type. An international playboy. A bon vivant, if you will.

But my reputation as a hedonistic whoremongering libertine are greatly exagerated. While it is true that I occasionally like to lose myself in a haze of sensual distractions, these things tire me when taken to excess. What I truely long for in life is nothing more than a little peace and tranquility.

But every time I try to have a nice quite evening at home by myself, something always comes up. Next thing I know, I'm in the middle of some action-packed adventure full of danger, excitement with a touch of romance thrown in to please the 18-45 female demographic.

Such as it was today. All was quiet through my stately manor on the LeBlanc Ancesteral Vinyard. I was sitting by the fireplace, smoking my pipe and reading poems by Pierre de Ronsard. Sir Dudley Puppington McDog III, my trusty Jack Russel terrier was curled up dutifully at my feet.

It was getting late. Almost time for me to go to sleep lest I be late for my early morning fencing lesson with Madame Giselle Charvet. But just before I was ready to cash in my chips and head for bed, my undocumented Puerto Rican pool boy and man-servant Miguel came in to inform me that Master Chiang was on the phone and wished to speak to me.

Master Chiang is my mentor and martial arts instructor. For many years he has instructed me in the deadly craft of Dragon Of Infinite Suns kung fu.

Even though I was tired, something told me that this call would be important. I knew that he had been being harrassed by a local crime boss and was behind on paying his protection racket. Many times I offered to use the influence of LeBlanc Corp to rectify this problem but he was too proud to accept my help, much less the help of a heartless international conglomerate.

Once on the phone, Master Chiang said he needed to speak to me in person and immediately. So I fled downstairs, hopped into my sleek 1985 Renault LeCar raced off to his dojo located in the heart of Bordeaux's Chinatown.
But while I was en route, things were underway that would have a profound impact on my life.
Master Chiang was sweeping the floor of his dojo, humming a tune from his childhood, without a care in the world.

Suddenly, the front door burst open a 15 young Japanese men from the nefarious Red Tiger Clan strode in. Cocky attitudes, sporting stylish clothes and shit-eating grins.

The leader stepped forward. "You've been late on your last three payments, old man! Black Claw says you either pay us everything today or we're gonna trash your dojo!"

"Please!" begged Master Chiang "I will have your money for you next week! Just give me more time!"

"Too late, old man!" yelled the leader "You need to learn that Black Claw and the Red Tiger Clan are not to be messed with! Let's get 'em!!!"
Sensing that his attempts to avoid violence had failed, Master Chiang immidiately snapped into his defensive "Dragon Stance" position as the gang charged towards him.

Master Chiang fought valiantly dispatching the early attackers with single precise punches and lightning fast kicks. The gang's feeble Japanese karate was no match for Master Chiang's Dragon Of Infinite Suns kung fu.

If Master Chiang was 10 or even 5 years younger, he would have won with ease. But he was now older, slower and more fragile and the Red Tiger Clan eventually overwhelmed him with their superior numbers.

I arrived outside the dojo just in time to see the Red Tiger members leaving on foot, some of their injured having to be carried. I ran inside to see the dojo in a dishevelled disarray. I screamed at the top of my lungs "Master Chiang! Master Chiang where are you!"

I followed the sounds of muffled moaning and groaning until Master Chiang's bloodied and bruised body laying in agony on the floor. I knelt down on the floor next to him.

"Master Chiang! Who did this to you!"

"Travis..." He coughed up bits of blood before continuing "There is something very important I need to tell you!"

"You can tell me later. First we need to get you an ambulance!"

His eyes grew cold "I'm afraid it is too late for that..."

"Don't talk like that, Master Chiang! You're gonna pull through this!"

"Travis!" his face with a renewed sense of urgency "Stop being foolish. I don't have much time left."

"OK, Master Chiang. What is it that you to tell me?"

"After I am gone..." he began. I still hated hearing him talk like that. At this point I still held out hope for him pulling though. "After I am gone," he repeated "you, Travis, must take over the school of Dragon of Infinite Suns kung fu!"

I was shocked to hear this. "What? Me?"

"Travis, you were always my most promising and talented student. You worked hard and were always respected by my other students."

"But they would never accept a Western as head of this school!" I was looking for any reason to not have to take upon me this great burden of responsibility. "Why not Lu Chi? Or or Xiao Shan?"

"Lu Chi lacks discipline. And Xiao Shan is too hungry for power. It is not our way. He must learn patience. Only you, Travis, can pass on the secrets of Dragon Of Infinite Suns to the next generation."

"Very well, Master Chiang. You've been like a father to me all my life. Your son, Liu, has been like a brother. I will take on this responsibility."

"Good..." he coughed up some more blood before continuing, "but there is one more thing I must ask of you...."

"What is it, Master Chiang?"

"Travis, you must not avenge my death! It will only bring about more suffering!"

We sat in silence for a moment as I pondered this.
"Master, I have always followed your teachings to the letter. But now you ask me not to avenge you and that is one command I can not obey."

"But Travis, you are not yet ready to face the Black Claw!"

"I appreciate all that you have taught me. You taught me to only used my kung fu in self defense and even then, only after all peaceful solutions had been exhausted. And over time, I saw the wisdom in this. But you also taught me that the strong have an obligation to protect the weak. The Red Tiger Clan has been pushing the people of Chinatown far too long and I plan to put a stop to it for good!"

Master Chiang just smiled weakly before uttering his final words "You were always an impetuous one, my boy" before his life-force left him and he drifted into eternal sleep.

"Master Chiang!" I yelled while shaking his lifeless body. "MASTER CHIANG!!! MASTER CHIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!"

All rage swelled up through me and I shook my hands at the heavens. "BLACK CLAW, MAKE PEACE WITH YOUR GOD, FOR I AM COMING FOR YOU!"

I've spent the last 24 hours prowling the streets of Bordeaux Chinatown looking for any and all members of the Red Tiger Clan and doing some serious face breakage.

Black Claw, I'm coming for you!!!

I am not going to contact you again. Not because I dont want to talk, as I do, but because the time has past for us to talk.

When I walked back in to the lounge room and realised you had left, I broke apart. I relapsed. I am glad I had some gear that I had not even thought about having before this happened as I think it was either that or scream and cry at how dumb I have been over you.

I am sorry. Thankyou for everything you have done that was good over the last 6 months.

But I did not deserve being left like this. I am finding it hard to cope with this. But Ill get there.

The story goes something like this.

During the darkest days of the second world war, Great Britain spent an entire year fighting the Germans and Italians by herself. With the majority of her armies scattered all over the globe, Britain was desperate for more troops to defend the homeland.

So the British government put a call out to the general public asking for volunteers. Preferably anyone with any military experience. It wouldn't be frontline combat stuff. Just things like operating anti-aircraft guns and manning coastal defenses in the unlikely event of a German invasion.

Well, among the people who responded to this call were a group of elderly veterans who had fought in the Anglo-Boer War in the late 1890's. That would have made them around 60 to 70ish years old.

So these geezers were taken to a training ground and shown the latest artillery cannons. The operation of cannons had not changed much in the last 40 years. You load the shell in, close the hatch, fire the cannon, open the hatch again, unload the empty shell and point in a new one. Wash, rinse, repeat.

When the officers felt they had the hang of it, they backed off and let the old dudes get back up to speed. But while watching the geezers practice, they noticed a peculiar routine.

Every time the old dudes fired the cannon, they would immediately run back 15 feet. And they did this over and over. Fire the cannon. Run back. Fire the cannon. Run back.

The officers watched this for a while and tried to figure out what the hell the geezers were doing. To no avail.

So the officers found an elderly general on base and brought him to the training ground to see if he could make heads or tails of it. The general watched the old men firing the cannon and then running back. After a couple minutes, he figured it out.

"Ah," said the general, "They're running back to grab the horses."

You see, before the advent of the automobile, all heavy equipment had to be transported to the battlefield by horse. Whenever a cannon was fired, the loud bang would freak the horses out and they would try to run away.
Therefore, every time the cannon was fired it was necessary for the men to run back, grab the horses and calm them down before firing another shot.

But after 40 years, trucks had replaced the horses on the battlefield. But the old men's training was so ingrained in them that after almost half a century, they were still running back to grab the horses that were long gone.

I've always liked that story. I'm not sure whether it ever actually happened but it is a powerful metaphore nonetheless.

I think of my past relationships especially the one with the missus. I see now that by the end, we were just like the old men in that story. The love was long gone but we were still going through the motions as if it was still there.

We were truely toiling in futility.

And yet I can think of other examples. One time I moved into a dump for no other reason than because it was close to my work. I eventually changed jobs but never thought to move out somewhere else. Even though its original purpose of that place was no longer valid.

Lately, I've been taking inventory of my life. Work, home, drugs, friendships, and etc. I'm asking myself if the original purpose of embarking on each is still relevant.

Or if I'm just chasing after horses who are no longer there.

ok, so i'm going to play around with the blogs feature. something productive to do, right?

Every day when the sun sets I eat a large meal and smoke skunk until I am on this strange, nervous, speedy, almost psychedelic high.

Usually I accompany this with beer or red wine, sometimes whiskey and soda. Often all three.

In this house, one person wakes the other six at 7am any given day for a morning spliff. There's always lights on and life in a few rooms until 3am at least.

People come and stay for days. Half strangers, most of them. One of my flatmates came home and found six people drinking in his bedroom this week. Cue much heavy slavic swearing as he threw them to the street immediately.

I live, party and work here, past five months I really only leave the house to leave the country or to drive recklessly in my car, which I manage to do for at least a few hours a day.

I'm struggling to find a point. But that is the kernel of the story, it seems.

Thursday night was quite a doozy...

I had a dinner party at the princely LeBlanc family estate and the cream of European aristicratic society was in attendence. There was Lord and Lady Effingham, the Duke of Asbury, my intellectual sparring partner Sir Gordon Charles, Gerry Adams, Charles Bonaparte, Corsican mafioso Allesandro Montella, Christopher Hitchens, Laetitia Casta, Aribert Heim, and a dozen others.

After a feast of crêpes and frog legs, we moved to my parlor room for wine and opium. As things were winding down, I decided to liven things up by dazzling them takes of my most recent African safari adventure.

"So I followed the natives back to their village, feeling safe in the belief that they had accepted me as one of their own. But upon arriving, I quickly discovered that I was not to be the guest of honor for their dinner. Rather, they intended for me to be the main course!"

"Good heavens, Travis!" cried Lord Asbury, "Do you mean to tell us that they were cannibals?"
"Indeed I do. And they believe that eating the flesh of a white man will give them great powers."
My audience gasped in near unison before I continued.

"I saw a large boiling pot in the middle of the village. And as they pushed me towards it, I noticed on the ground the half-eaten remains of Kumal, my guide and interpreter that vanished in the night a week before."

One woman in the room fainted. Lady Effingham covered her eyes and exclaimed "Oh, it is all too ghastly!" So vivid was my description and colorful my language, that the women felt as though the savages of my story were in the very same room with us.

"I do apologize" I said, attempting to restore calm "But I did warn you that parts of this story were not suitable for those of delicate feminine sensibilities."

"My goodness, Travis," said Sir Gordon Charles, eager for me to continue my tale. "You must have been scared out of your wits!"

"Well, I had been in some tight spots before but I must confess that this one presented quite a challenge. There I was. Hundreds of miles from civilization and surrounded by 30 blood-thirsty savages. Each one with a lustful craving for my flesh. I knew it was going to require something extraordinary to get out of this predicament in one piece."

"You had your revolver, did you not?" Lord Effingham queried.

"Yes but I had used the last of my ammunition during the hippo stampede that killed the rest of the expedition."

"So tell us, Travis" Gerry Adams, quiet until this time, demanded "How did you manage to escape?"

"Not tonight. Next time." I said, "It's getting quite late..."

There was a roar of disaproval through out the room and even the frightened ladies would not be satisfied until I finished the tale. Eventually I relelnted and continued.

"Okay, do you remember that tiger I befriended the day before? Well, as they were prodding me with their spears and urging me towards the boiling pot, who should I see out of the corner of my eye?"

"No..." the group spoke in low mix of surprise and astonishment.

"But yes!" I declared "It was none other than the very same tiger out with his family on a hunting expedition of their own!"

"What fortune!" Lord Effingham cried.

"Yes and right before I was about to put my first leg into the boiling pot, I yelled his name-"

At that very moment, my undocumented Puerto Rican poolboy and man-servant Miguel Valentino burst into the room in a complete panic. He was stark naked, his arms were handcuffed behind his back and he was wearing a ball gag.

"Miguel, what have you gotten yourself into this time!"

I unfastened the ball gag and he spoke "Twavith! Twavith! Someone has broken into the vineyard and mixed up the colors on all the marshmellows. Now there are pink diamonds, purple clovers, and red horseshoes!"

Who would do such a thing? Well, just last night, I found out. The answer would shock you.

I'm feeling bored, listless. I took a couple of antihistamine tablets to sleep so hopefully I should get a couple of hours and then wake up feeling better. I'm tentatively considering a long period of sobriety for this next term at uni... Went without drinking a drop when I was in Sweden recently and it felt pretty good, so it could be an idea. Drinking is overrated...

I had a good time yesterday though. and I got a New Years Eve kiss! I went to a friend's place, there were about 10 of us there so it was nice and intimate, and one of the guys who lives there is a gorgeous friend of a close friend, this guy I've had the hots for for a while. We kissed for a bit, it was surprisingly passionate, then went out again to socialise. I guess sex was on the cards but I got sleepy and bored of sitting around listening to a heated drunken conversation about Judaism, went to bed to lie down for a bit, and passed out. I wonder if he came looking for me... Well, I was a bit too tired for anything else anyway, and this way there's a little bit more tension for the next time we meet... Would have been nice to cuddle a little though.

I'm having the dreaded hangover cringes. Even though I know logically that I didn't say or do anything that was too silly, it's like my mind is enthusiastically searching for little bits of things that I can give myself shit about. It's so annoying! I just want to go to sleep and wake up and be normal again, maybe do an EFT sesh or something. Blah alcohol.

Happy New Year!!!

"Anosognosia" is when someone is unaware they have a disease or a problem with their body. "No doctor, I am not blind" or "my left hand is not paralyzed" and they can't figure it out even when they try to clap or something. It usually happens as a result of a stroke, but even blunt force brain trauma can cause it.

"What about your left hand?" you then ask. "Can you touch your nose with your left hand?"

"Sure I can." The patient's paralyzed left hand does not move.

"Are you touching it now?"

"Yes, of course I am." His hand still has not moved.

"Can you actually see yourself touching your nose with your left hand?" you ask.

"Of course I can," he says in irritation. "It's right in front of my face."

You decide to ask just one more question. "Can you clap your hands for me, please?"

The patient looks at you in some puzzlement, but resignedly lifts his right hand and waves it in front of him, as if clapping it against an imaginary left hand. His real left hand lies where it is, completely paralyzed. (adapted from Ramachandran 1998, p. 128-129, where a virtually identical conversation occurs)

Click to expand...

What is really cool is that the person who is fucked up will automatically, and without conscious thought, make up some sort of crazy excuse about why they aren't suffering from whatever problem they have. It is like our brain has automatic systems which will force the world to appear logical and continuous to us, even if it means fabricating complete bullshit.

Now where it gets really crazy, is in some cases stimulating the person's brain, even in a really simple way like by squirting cold water in their ear, causes the anosognosia to disappear, and the brain rewrites all the memories to make things make sense again.

After [injecting the water], I asked again, "How are you feeling?"
"My ear's cold."
"What about your arms? Can you use your arms?"
"No," she replied, "my left arm is paralyzed."
That was the first time she had used that word in the three weeks since her stroke.
"Mrs. Macken, how long have you been paralyzed?"
She said, "Oh, continuously, all these days."

Click to expand...

Then, twelve hours later after the woman settled down the question was repeated:

"Do you remember Dr. Ramachandran?"
"Oh, yes, he was that Indian doctor."
"And what did he do?"
"He took some ice-cold water and he put it into my left ear and it hurt."
..."What did he ask you?"
"He asked me if I could use both my arms."
"And what did you tell him?"
"I told him I was fine."

Click to expand...

Anosognosia is the coolest brain malfunction because it exposes how our brain deals with things that don't make sense- and it has the more 'matrix' type implications than anything I've ever heard of. Our brain is so crazy about 'making sense' and continuity that it'll basically whip up a whole book of lies to keep from feeling like its broken. And we can't tell when or if it's doing it.

It's funny how among my generation that narcissism and insecurity so often go hand and hand. It's the Gen X disease.
I've suffered from malignant narcissism at least since age 12. I make a habit of regularrly declaring my genius to anyone who will listen and quite a few who had no intention of listening but do so to humor me.
But some days, I start to think that perhaps I ain't so special. After all, I have quite a difficult time reconciling my alleged genius with my rather undistinguished position in life and my relative lack of genius-affirming accomplishments.
It is then that I begin to worry that I am mental ill. Perhaps I am deranged and delusional...

Then I this a message like this on facebook:
"Have you ever written anything for publication? I think it would be fascinating. You should donate your brain to scientific research when you die. Always thought you were a genius. In your own special way."
Who wrote that? Well, I don't know. Apparently it was someone I went to high school with. The name rang a bell but I don't remember much else about them. Whoever it is, I have not talked to them in 14 years.

I'm depressed now. I had got to a point that I was ready to accept that I am deranged kook and work on my mental health issues..
Now I just feel I'm wasting my life.

so i guess im taking a semester off. bah tuition due dates...if i hadn't of moved and had so much maddness parading about my head i would have been more on top of things.

i even went to drawing II thinking, yea drawing two, lets draw some fantastic shit! but my name wasnt called on roll. bah, at least i know what to bring next semester...

im single and it's strange, but i like it. i thought i'd be more upset for longer but i'm good already. i've been working at my g-parent's greenhouse for a bit now and already hate it. it's a good job, pays very well, working with plants is awesome...but the family thing is ridiculous. my nanny (g-ma) is all about hard work 24/7. she's the strongest old woman i've ever seen...she wakes up at 5 and doesnt quit working until it's dark. the business is at their home. they own about 7 greenhouses on their land...all filled with hundresd of plants. i'll call in sick and she'll drive up to my mom's to make sure im sick and be completely open about that's what she's doing. even then she says work makes you feel better and acts like im just being a baby. my papa just sits inside all day drinking from his keggerator (a keg / refrigerator) and making smart ass comments when i go inside for something...he's actually really funny until he's sloshed at about 5 or 6, then he's just fuckin mean.
but i cant quit because nanny made me promise to be there for her this year. at least until the summer is over.

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam, fortasse requiris.
Nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior.
~Catullus


I do not feel afraid, usually, when I am not doing anything in particular, not planning on doing anything in particular, and so on and so forth. And yet...And yet...

I do nothing and I make nothing and I say nothing and I think nothing.

The woman to my left with the earmuffs on, dressed casually in a sweatshirt and jeans her cheeks rosy from the cold or from the sun, I don't know which, or the difference. The same. Possibly she just took a warm shower. Possibly it's simply her usual complexion. SHE is what I want to be.

"Excuse me," I say to the woman who, upon analyzing her appearance a little more while trying to get her attention, I realize isn't a woman at all but a philatelist, of no more than two twelves and not a very good one at that.

And then, "Miss!"

But she's gone. No more. Another person not a person I was lucky enough to love, if even for a moment no longer than a breath and still, I feel a loss.

"What do you dream about..." I might have asked her if given the chance "...when you sleep?"

Or "What is it that makes you smile? And on such a terrible day."

And though i'm left standing on a cracked square of carelessly poured concrete in front of a salon that used to be a bakery that used to be a studio that used to be a bank, wondering what happened to my love or if she ever really existed anyways, or if she never did and never will and never ever sever clever...something in me finds it necessary to move on. mooo...move. don't.

"Do you have any spare change?" I ask the man shaking the coins around in his coffee cup, repeating some phrase I don't bother to listen to. And so I fill it up with useful wealth.

"This is how you inject this stuff into your bloodstream," I teach him, when he is just a little boy. "And this is how you build a couch fort."

The shoemaker on 3rd street sells diamonds made from shmiamonds out the back door of his shop. The trash men know where all the portals are to hidden universes and drink licorice from a boot.

"I can't have any children," I tell the boy as a man as a bum as a coffee drinker. "My womb is not a tomb."

And on days like this, when I have all the answers, I know what my best course of action is, should be, should be is.

"Cantankerous!" I yell to the man as a stop sign as a thief, before he runs screaming into the night. "It means you and I are always friends. It means you and I love hate! Plastic! What kind of potato can't seem to make a break dance?!"

I'm still on methadone. I didn't manage to come to 0. I think I've come to the point I can't live without any discomfort without a steady dose of methadone just to make me feel normal.

Buying methadone from people from methadone programs is expensive if you do that all the time. Maybe someone can handle it but I don't work regularly anymore and what I get is not enough to cover the costs.

So, I decided to go to the program and talk to the supervisor. I will lay off the situation I'm in and maybe I'll get on the program without going to hospital. I can't go to hospital now because of school, I'm in my final year and I've got final exams without passing which I won't be able to study. I don't want to postpone finishing this part of my education as I feel really bad in this school and I want to leave it as soon as possible.

It's really terrible here when you need public help. And the detox in hospital is very unpleasant, methadone dose is way under needed and people are dying from cravings there. Besides, it is to switch people from heroin/morphine to methadone. I'm already switched. I've been on methadone for 2 months already.

I hope they can put me on some low dose. I can live with 50ml a day without feeling any discomfort and people are put on 100ml a day so that's a big difference. I meet all requirements. I'm of age, I'm almost 19, I've been addicted for more than 3 years, I'm deep in this shit for 3,5 years.

I'm planning to go there next week. My mum doesn't want me to go on methadone permanently but she can't understand how hard it is for me to feel normal without daily help of some low (relatively of course!) dose of methadone. So I don't even have any support from relatives.

Anyway, I will brace myself up and give it a try.