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Just finished another day at work, today was supposed to be my day off. Also, anotification went off on my phine this evening, reminding me that my first day of abstinence from crystal meth starts tomorrow and will last for 30 days. If after that 30 days I still want to use, after just barely getting though the withdrawals and severe depression and beginning to feel like an actual honest, productive individual who is beneficial to society, then I may... but I pray that God gives me the strength to refuse any offer given to me in the form of dope. I still havent been able to set a doctors appointment to see someone about getting my UTI cleared up... if that is what is causing me to feel like I have to pee every day, all day.

I almost fell out of my chair when I read an email this morning. I didn't recognize the name of the sender, but it was somehow familiar. Hesitantly, I clicked it open. It was Ariadne from the Paris Fashion Week party. Her name is actually Andreia. All the letters and sounds were there A A D E I N R. A perfect anagram, escpecially considering the unusual spelling.

Maybe this is why dreams are useless for picking winning lotery numbers. With their strange synchronistic properties, even if sometimes there is really something there, there is always just enough wrong. Maybe the digits are reversed, the date is wrong, or the location is wrong. In the long run it is no better than guessing.

She didn't tell me how she found my name or email address, but she sounds sure she knows that it is me. No, my memory of the conversation is not faulty, I never told her my name, and that was verified in the email. She never told me hers, also verified. She hinted that she went to some trouble to contact me.

She must have somehow gotten the guestlist for the party and emailed everybody with a name that looked american (nearly 1000) or soemthign.

This after I have finally stopped thinking about her all day. I don't know if I should reply. As sick as I was these past two weeks, if I see her again, it will start all over. Worse, if we somehow have a relationship, she will be able to control me. I had become completely infatuated and obsessed with her, while she feels absolutely nothing for me. The relationship would be one-sided, with me being the one who anxiously waits for her to get off work or call, while she busies herself with her job or her hobbies and only thinks of me as an after thought when she's finsihed with all of the things she would rather be doing. All of my past relatioships as bad as they were, I have never been in that position. Just like I did nothing to find her. I could have hacked into the computer that had the guest list for the party and tried emailing all of the women on the list.

As a designer specializing in arcology or something, on the surface, she could possibly meet thoe rewuirements, (artistic, has a higher IQ than me, keeps herself in good physical condition, but not violent when somebody disagrees with her). I have no idea if she is smarter than me, but she was able to track me down somehow. Something still bothers me. She might be the woman of my dreams, but I'm afraid she's not a dreamer. She was never in any of my dreams. I've got to be picky after all of the bad experiences I've had.

"Men can be heartless and vein by taking you self -esteem and scrubbing the toilet that is your flushed self-worth in murky water unfit to drink or shit on top of. They layer it on piece by piece. It robs you of sanity, dignity, solitude, and the chance at real love"

Very true Oh I'm sorry.... How dare I.... How dare me to discuss my feelings. How dare I jus simply ask you about what's goin on with us in our 'relationship'. I never say anything at all. I take pride in being a girl that is very chill. I take pride in the fact that I don't nag and have 'talks' everyother day. We've established that we were boyfriend and girlfriend a long while ago. And I'm sorry, but im not stupid. I notice how our relationship changed... How uve been pulling away. Ever so slightly, that I can't call you out on it. Ever soo suddle, that if I said something, U would pull the "what r you talking about" card to make me look crazy. Sooo I don't say anything. I let it go on. For awhile until u say something that triggers it and I can't take anymore. Now unlike most, do I expolde... No. Do I call u names and start accusing u of things... No. So what do I do? I simply want to talk to u, like an adult in a mature relationship.... Can u imagine that?!?! How dare I talk to you as an adult in a mature relationship! So what do u do... U get defensive in 2 seconds and begin a fight. A fight that totally was un called for and totally avoidable. And the funny part is that YOuR WRONG. I didn't even do anything and ur the one who is wrong, yet your yelling at me... For telling u my feelings none the less!
Like what the fuck?!? Ur fuckin impossible I don't even wanna know what it's like fighting with you during a real fight!

Maybe I should jus take the hint... That ur no longer really into me. That u don't love me (because u still haven't said it yet and we've been dating for awhile). That you jus keeping me around for the sex and jus to have someone with u through a few nights a week.
Funny that's when ur nice to me... When we're having sex. That's when ull leave early hanging out with your friends, bc ur horny and u text me and my stupid ass says "yes I'll come over". But bc ur my "boyfriend" I push out the little voice that says "why does he leave hanging out with his friends early jus for sex? Why can't he leave early other nights when u jus wanna hang out?" I wanted to be the "cool" girlfriend and not argue or cause a fight. But every girl has her limits.... And my bad that u finally pushed the wrong button.... Said something alil too far that cause me to say "we need to talk". How dare I How DARE I!!!

My eyes open.... Only takes moments to realize where I'm at. Far far away from the dream land I was just in. Far far away from the life I once knew, that I was ok In, "doing good" making family proud, making enemies jealous... The "good" days. Life was ok then. Much better then where I am now

"Fuck" I say in my head. Another day waking up in my 'single' size bed, back in my parents home, almost reaching the age of 28. A far far step from when I moved out on my own at the age of 23 with my boyfriend of 8 years. We had a nice size house, a nice size bed. He was a handsome guy. He was a good guy. We practically grew up together. We were almost like a power couple... Ganging up together when something threatend one of us. Intimidating other couple how we made being together look so effortless and 'cool' we were with eachother in not fighting or getting crazy or jelous ....
Well here I am now, in my childhood bedroom, alone ... About to begin another stupid ass day doing the same stupid ass stuff. Change u ask? Why can't I change? Well bc I'm a addict and paralyzed in fear

I can't believe I left him, I left that life, I chose to do this, I chose to throw away a relationship that was relatively ok

Now, he's getting married to someone. He moved on and his life is moving forward.

But me? I'm jus going backwards.

I know what I must do. I know I need to face these Demonds. But I'm stuck in this limbo that life sucks and I need the opiates to get through this stupid ass day. This stupid ass work shift. But at the same time, I want change. I want happiness. I want a real relationship again. I want my own place.

How does it end?! How do I get through this. Is death easier (tho I'd never go through w it)

Everyday the problem gets worse and worse. When will I stop fighting?! When will I start fighting the good fight?!

As the episode of punked was on, were they target the Olson twins. The pretended to be kidnappers that force them to decide who will live ,and if they don't chose they both die. Little did they know the guns are empty that are pointing at them only the gun give to Kate and Ashley is loaded . The tables where turned as Kate claims she wants her sister to live and picks up.the gun. The joke.was on Ashley when Kate took the gun out of her mouth and shot Ashley. Of course it wasn't a fatal shot Ashton Coucher made sure they never received and small arms training for their role on Full House. If the Kate only played along Ashley wouldn't have bled out. Did she have cake on her face, but the real punk was on the Olson parents, KATE had to she if she could co Vince their parents that she was both Olson twins. Her parents would not good sports so.Kate was performing her biggest role, as someone that will be.sent to.jail if her parents realize Ashleys never coming home, not alive at least, you'll see what I mean.
Kate had no.idea that.Ashley was being sexually abused by her father. So Kate ,the actress she is, didn't break character when she would run from her room to Ashley's to receive the second good night kiss from her dad.When thinking she was in the clear having made it across the hall into Ashley bed little did she know what she was in for.As the problems piled up so did the laughs. Ashley reappeared, only to.serve as a body if any one looked in while dealing with another twist.
She was almost in the clear when tilted her head for her father to kiss good night as he also had. As she waited to for a peck , Mr. Olson had different ways of showing his love to
Ashley. She quick got the point ( no pun intended ) when a she felt the extent of his affection up against her as he got in to bed. Their was no mistaking Ashley had been servicing he fathers every need. AS any good actress knows the show must go on this Olson movie was not gonna get instead and let's.say perform certain acts if an Olson twin movie would not be read pg for the first time.
"Your punked" That when the mother walked in on them in to say " you just got punked. Mrs. Olson was in on the prank and was her idea. Little did her husband and " daddy's little whore" she affectionately nicknamed Ashley. She said I wanted to punk.them like they do me, she had an idea what was going on for years. NOT until she found out he only touched Ashley did she realize she must have come on to him. It only stands to reason they both were the same exact body if a child mollester he would. Have done the natural thing and switch them like during full house. When one was starting to.cut herself , move on to the other .

Above is an 18th century etching of the Institut where I work. Back then, it was still a Franciscan monastery. In the previous entry is a photo of one of the many statues here - he is in a niche before the stairs just outside of my lab.

I haven't slept well in about a month. I'm in such a bad mental state and feel so sick in general that I have been taking morphine to try to stay focused and keep my mood from getting worse than it already is. Sometimes I wish I had access to Kratom because it's a better pick-me-up than opiates. I'll explain that later.

My troubles began because I was having a hard time writing my article, I was in over my head, and people who had promised to help me weren't helping. With the submission deadline for my article is fast approaching, I had to intelligibly describe the research I've been doing here for the past four months. That was not the hard part. I had to read and then discuss more than 100 long and obtuse articles, discuss them all in the paper, and relate them to my findings. Some people do this easily, but for me, no. Since this is a new line of study for me, digesting so much material was awful. Overall, it was really more like writing a chapter for a medical textbook. Actually, the last part of it is a chapter in a book. The good thing is that it has already been accepted by a high impact medical journal, hence the deadline, and the findings are expected to have a high impact among the neuroscience community. It will help my career if I decide to stay with this thankless line of work.

I finally got the paper under control, but then something else happened. After the second Paris Fashion Week party I went to last week, I met a strange woman. That is what has been keeping me awake for the last week. She never told me her name, but in a dream it was Ariadne so I shall call her Ariadne.

Every night it is the same. I lie down exhausted. No matter how tired I am, I can't fall asleep. Sometimes it gets so late that morning birds start chirping outside my window. Eventually I fall into that un-restful, trance-like state known as sleep paralysis, but then, my mind springs wide awake. With a feeling of dread, I get up off my pallet on the floor and float out the window. It's usually still dark. First, I usually go to the Eiffel Tower or maybe I go sit on top of the nearby dome of the Pantheon. It's currently being repaired so there are lots of scaffolds and construction platforms upon which to perch.

In the dream, I need to find Ariadne. More than 10 million people live here so I never feel hopeful of finding her, even though it is only a dream and I should be able to do anything I want. I methodically scan the city. The view from the Eiffel Tower or the top of the dome of the Pantheon is fantastic. City lights spread out to the horizon. I read somewhere that the city is nick-named the "City of Light," and it fits.

Its layout is the result of centuries of building, tearing down, and rebuilding. Long streets radiate in patterns from central points and carve through long rows of high buildings that touch each other. Smaller streets and alleys and walkways and corridors divide them further. Here and there are domes and towers of palaces and mansions. Cathedrals are peppered around the city.

I pick a direction at random and jump off the tower, free-fall for a moment, catch mayself, and then fly over the government palace near the base of the tower. I move north-east tonight looking down at the millions of apartments and houses, always calling her name. Many buildings have an airy quality with their angular roofs, skinny chimneys, spires, and iron work roof-top gardens and platforms. Wrough iron balconies cling to the sides of many buildings with lush green plants dangling runners. They could have been magicked out of a rain forest. A lot of the courtyards have gardens, and they are begining to bloom. In some, fountains sparkle in artificial light. Old cobbled passages wind through narrow spaces and under archways.

Then I make my way back to the Hôtel de ville or the Louvre near the city center to keep my bearings. I get lost in dream cities just like I get lost in real cities in waking life if I don't pay attention. Last night was cloudy, and I couldn't see the stars for reference.

The clouds high above are the color of sodium vapor lamps, just like any modern American city at night. I stay away from them and keep my altitude near the rooftops. That way I can look for her, but I don't go so high that I am caught in the Winds of Time or just get lost in the yellowish clouds. I always wake up when that happens and have to spend another 2 hours trying to get to sleep again.

Aside from the fact that I am completely lucid, I can't control anything in the dream. The only exception is that sometimes I can make few random objects or fake people appear and disappear. Compared with the lifelike and realistic fabric of the dream and the lifelike people that I sometimes see in the dream, the objects and people that I consciously bring into the dream look like toddler refrigerator art and quickly lose their shape and fall apart. I can never make Ariadne appear or even go to her. I have been trying all night every nigh for more than a week.

Obviously, I can fly and move around and explore the dreamscape, but I can't even open a door. Instead, I have to go through walls. Sometimes I can do a teleport but it's always to a random location and never accurate.

I methodically enter buildings, houses, flats where i think she might live and call her. Her name echoes back. It's not like the echo in a cavern, but a weird inhuman sound that echos at unexpected intervals, each time slightly altered. It's a dream, a very elaborate one done in life-like detail. I enter strange French houses and see strange French families. Sometimes the children see me. The adults almost never do unless they are extremely old. I search buildings one by one, walking in , well floating in; unable to open doors or windows, I pass through solid walls. 1000s of sleeping people 1000s of sleeping families dreaming their own dreams completely unaware of me.

In my dream, I sometimes see into their dreams. I hear their thoughts. It is unpleasant to look at what others are thinking or dreaming. Some are anxious thoughts buzzing around in their brains like trapped bees. If telepathy were real, it would be torture to experience it.

Sometimes the people are awake doing ordinary things that don't interest me: watching tv, talking , working, doing unmentionable personal things. I look away.

Last night, I walked in on a stunningly beautiful naked woman. She was lithe and blond and her vag was neatly trimmed. Her breasts were spectacular, and at that instant I felt like if she would let me touch them, I would live forever. Thus distracted from my search, I stood in front of her in her ordinary living room, fascinated for a moment. She was walking around, sometimes facing me, but didnt seem to see me. There were book cases, sofas, chairs, art on the walls, even a mirror. I never look in the mirrors in this dream. She, like everything else in the dream, was beyond real, so real that I felt like I was looking in on a real person and violating her privacy. I vaguely wondered what dream sex in such a realistic dream would be like. But I have a one-track, mind as the expression goes, and I left the room calling Ariadne.

This has been my experience nearly every night, nearly all night, for the past week - I lie awake. There is no rest for my mind.

Had a dream of my father. Someone told me something was wrong with him. He was there with us, and I put my head to his chest. His heart sounded weak. Irregular. Sometimes delays.

Today I learned he went to the hospital today.

I dreamed of a black/brown horse, too. When his mother died a few years ago, I dreamed of dark horses, as I slept, as she died, before I knew. In both dreams I was friendly with the horses. Closeness.

I don't think he is dying though. I think he had a shock to his system after a routine procedure, and drugs given to him. But it makes me think.

Ariadne

I haven't slept much since I met her a week ago today. I take lots of morphine just to function. I take it in the morning for the energy to get out of bed, I take it throughout the day to stay focused, and I take it before bedtime so I can at least lie still with the hope that I might sleep.

Every night it is the same. Even though I'm exhausted and can't do anything, I can't sleep either. The closest I get is after lying still for a couple of hours, I start to fall into a state of sleep paralysis. Sleep paralysis is not a real sleep. It's not restful. My mind is always wide awake while my body enters a light sleep. At this point, I can't move even if I want to. I'm always in my cold, dark garret apartment. I look around and the room is exactly as it is in waking life. Then vivid hypnogogic imagery begins. Sometimes ghostly figures dressed in clothing from past centuries enter my room, oblivious to my presence. They go about like people in recordings of old movies. Sometimes there are giant spiders and strange insects. At this point, I realize I had better either wake up or make the dream change. It took me 2 hours to get to sleep, so I stay asleep and risk having a nightmare than lie awake the rest of the night.

Bradley

I live in a 300 year old building in the oldest part of the city. I work in a 900 year old building a few minutes away. All my life, I have wanted to live in such a setting. So here I am. The Institut was originally a médiéval monastary in the city center. This is the oldest part of the city and is near the Arènes de Lutèce (the Roman Arena). The Institut is surrounded by high walls, and the entrance is blocked by a gate and a guard house. Guards carrying machine guns stand around while another guard checks everybody's IDs. It has been this way since the Hebdo and Jewish Grocery Store Massacres.

Inside is a chapel, a central courtyard with gardens and fountains, and the cloister (a covered space made by line of columns encircling the central courtyard, a péristyle). Everything is made of marble. There are alcoves with artwork and statues. Mr. Death (I call him Bradley. Photo taken with cell phone camera.) is in one. He stands around 12 feet tall and is at the base of the stairs that lead to my office and lab. He's holding a full length scythe. In an alcove directly across from him is a Stone Angel. I didn't take a photo but she looks like something from Dr. Who but without fangs - the mouth is closed.

The monastary (built in the 11th century)was later taken over by an order of monks in the 13th century. It served as a theological and scientific research center of that era. Hot topics of research were alchemy, astrology, and gardening in the 12th century. More famously, the Curies worked here. So did Lavoisier, Pasteur, and others .....

The monastary cells, the former living quarters of the monks, have been turned into laboratories. My lab is in one of them. [Sorry for the weird spelling. I now use a French keyboard, and the layout and lettering are different. My spell checking software is set to French, and it keeps auto-correcting to French spellings unless I keep chaning it back and forth.]

It was built on the site of an older monastary whose chapel was a re-dedicated Roman temple which was built on the site of a prehistoric Celtic temple. As the monastary became famoous, it grew larger and monastary's needs grew. The needs of the temple and its monks and scholars were supported by artisans, cooks, laboroers who lived on the site. It was practically a small city within the walls independnet from the surrounding big city.

It was this way for centuries, until the Revolution. Then Napolean came to power and he wanted better medics to support his armies. The ancient temple was torn down, the monks were made to leave, and the rest of the monastary was repurposed as a Chemistry research college specializing in military science and improving the production of gun powder. In modern times, it was repurposed for the study neuroscience and neurological disease.

My job at the Institut is to set up and then run a state-of-the-art biomedical research lab in one of those cells. One of the good things about it is that I will have the privacy and slience taht was enjoyed by the ancient monks. Most labs here are full of poeple rushing around all over the place and bumoing into you. And talking. Somebody is always talking to you or at you. I often hide or pretend I still don't understand them.

Ariadne

As soon as I drift off to sleep, I get up off my sleeping pallet and float over to the window. It's a dream, so of course I can fly. I try to open the window but can't. I can never move, push, open, or pick up anything in these dreams. Instead, I float through the window glass and hover just outside, 7 stories above the courtyard garden. I can see that a rose bush is begining to bloom. My flat is near the Pantheon on a hill in the oldest part of the city. I look across the city, and the Eiffel Tower is the first thing that draws my eye. It is lit up with millions of tiny lights like a Christmas Tree. On top of it is a search light that scans the city, looking for something. I watch this for a monent. In the dream, it is moving very slowly, as though time were dilated. I am reminded of the Eye of Sauron on top of the Black Tower, Barad-dûr, in Mordor in the Lord of the Rings. In the book, Sauron is looking for the Ring using a search light type of eye. He needs the Ring to be complete. In the dream, I am looking for Ariadne, methodically scanning the city. In the dream, I need to find Ariadne to be complete.

I drift over and land on the top of the Eiffel tower and stand next to the search light. I look across the rest of the city. I look at the Jardin du Luxembourg , then the palaces near the Tower, beyond to the Bois de Boulogne just outside the city, then back close again to the Louvre. The Arc de triomphe stands out. North toward Notre Dame and across the lights of 1000s of houses adn aparptments and to the hills on the horizon. East to the Bois de Vinciennes. As I look in all directions, I start ot call her name. I hope my walls are thick and that my neighbors can't hear the madman calling.

So morbid me was curious to test the limits of my mind. What better way that insufflating MDPV for 3 days without rest and with little nourishment? (Which on paper for a non-stimulant user sounds like torture... all that hunger and tiredness.. well there is no hunger or tiredness.. it becomes torture TO eat and sleep.. )

I actually have a list on my hard-drive of all the music I played in this time.

Well long story short I got what I wanted - a taste of psychosis. Still images of persons would have an X across their faces and their faces would almost snarl. Still, I still had enough grip on reality to both laugh at this and know it was not real. It started to be not so fun when I was jumping out of my chair at system sounds like errors coming up, and notions that the feds had enabled an invisible admin account on my network.

So I came down before it got too hot to handle, woke up.. after 10 hours..dizzy as fuck.. groggy still.. and STILL not wanting to eat! Jesus fuck MDPV is one hell of an anorectic! Anyway i've eaten plenty good fruits and proteins, gave my urinary tract some lovings (as MDPV makes you piss VERY little... very concentrated urine..) with some high concentration cranberry juice etc. All good and recovered.

Don't try this at home kids

I can handle psychosis and hallucinatory states because I am a miserable cynical atheistic motherfucker who jeers attempts to suspend my scientific minded skepticism at EVERYTHING. If I see demons I roll my eyes and go "fake..." Whereas someone else will chase them with an axe.

"Purgatory"

THEY took away my life force, unexpectedly
a false sense of security, snatched away

so many facets of your personality
happiness; randomness; usefulness; CONNECTED-ness
all gone in a random act of stupid-ness

i thought i had too much of you, foolishly
now you're gone i miss you, terribly

THEY fill me with false promises while i rage
friday; monday; wednesday; friday
shameless lies to keep my anger at bay

i fill the nights with prehistoric pastimes, mindnumbingly
ignoring your mocking eye; disgustedly

an unwelcome journey to the time before you
tedium; repetition; futility; solitude
every waking minute a reminder of you

tomorrow you will return, hopefully
where we will become one again, interfrastically

"Meet The Kittens"
To the tune of "The Muppets Theme"
==================================
(Morning)

It's time to meet the kittens
It's time to start the show
What shall they have for breakfast?
Only mum or dad will know!

(Afternoon)
It's time to venture outside
It's time to have a look
Who's that we see on the bike
A cat called Marmaduke!

(Bedtime)
It's time to have a clamber
It's time to walk on mum
What is that smell that Joe smells?
It comes from Seamo's bum!

http://www.bluelight.org/vb/threads/747783-SNOO-V8-In-the-bathroom-smashing-glasses?p=12937727#post12937727

http://www.snoo.net/about.php

The Snoo Manifesto

The first question that needs to be answered, what is Snoo? I bet you are all dying to know! Well here is a brief explanation according to me:

Have you ever been late for work, got to the bus stop annoyed that you have missed it only to have the bus arrive? Have you ever been sitting in the pub with no money dying for a pint or a pack of cigarettes, then shoved your hand in your pocket and found £20 you’d forgotten about? Have you ever been sitting at home bored out of your skull because all your mates are at work and an old friend who you haven’t seen in ages pops round? This is Snoo!

It is about those cool little things that make life more bearable. ‘It’s about finding Joy in the small things’ and that’s what this site is about.

This site exists to make people laugh, sometimes at the expense of others but only in fun. Hopefully by the time the site is up and running properly there will be a lot of things to make life a little more bearable. We aim to have some fun downloads including, mp3 files, news and gossip from St Albans, a guest book, links and Bio’s of all the most in/famous people in St A!

For now if you have any moments of Snoo in your life that you’d like to share (Just say if you want it to be anonymous) send ‘em to me at [email protected] and we’ll put them up on the site.

Click to expand...

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Paris Fashion Week was last week. It is the largest of four showings of clothing in the world. Others show take place in London, Milan, and New York. The largest fashion houses, for example Louis Vuiton, Jean Paul Gaultier, Miu Miu etc all display their wares here and it is notorious for being a media circus. The focus is on Haute Couture, I believe. I have no interest in this kind of thing.

Also, I generally hate parties, but I had an invitation, and not knowing anybody here or having any friends, I went to a party at a fancy hotel. The people at the door checked off my name on the guest list. I was still wearing the coat I found on the roadside next to the corpse of a filthy stew bum last Fall, but after eating a box of morphine tablets, I didn't care what anybody thought about me. I checked the coat at the coat check room anyway. Lots of people. Lots of beautiful women. Maybe I can make a friend. Probably not. I soon realized that the party was affiliated with Paris Fashion Week. I talked to a few random people. Got a glass of wine. 2 American women talked to me. They were both obese and worked in advertising. My idea of a first date is to spend the morning hiking up a 10,000 foot mountain and have lunch and a bottle of wine with her at the summit, so I kind of feel like talking to fat chicks at parties is pointless, no matter how beautiful they are on the inside. Conversely, I feel like talking to ugly (don't read this wrong - I mean ugly on the inside. people with nasty, unpleasant personalities.) people is pointless, no matter how beautiful they are on the outside. That last condition rules out most of the women models here and most of humanity in general. Even worse, my French isn't good enough to have any kind of deep conversation with any of the natives, so I was kind of limited in who I can talk to.

A few minutes later, I started talking to another woman. She approached me, actually. I don't like going up to people and initiating conversation. I usually regret it. She was some kind of entry level model. I mean, she was beautiful but not rich and famous. The card she gave me had what looked like a head and torso shot of her in lingerie. We chatted for maybe an hour. Her name is Céline, and she is French but from the island of La Reunion. She gave me her phone number and email address. I have a new French phone the number which I have not yet bothered to memorize so I didn’t give her my number. Only my email. She said she had only been mountain climbing once in her life. It was time to move on. She kissed me with that weird French style of greeting or goodbye kissing and we said goodbye and agreed to stay in touch. She would help me with French and I could help her with English.

Soon another girl comes up to me. She was wearing black tights. She started talking to me. Her name was Heidi. She was new to Paris. She works in the fashion industry. She's from Australia. At first I thought she was pretty. She was a fashion model after all. Clothing, not lingerie. We chatted for 15 minutes and seemed to be hitting it off, but then to my horror, her face started morphing. Not in a good way. There are no words for the effect. That's why I have started making up words like 'wibble' later in this entry.

The first thing that went wrong was that there was a baneful light like the harsh and dirty glare of a soiled spotlight coming out of the middle of her forehead. It was like an auxiliary asshole with a flashlight shining out of it, shit smeared across the lens. (I was reminded of that William Burroughs character ‘Spare Ass Annie’) Not only did it look dirty, but it carried the feeling of deep rooted anger and hatred. I've seen it in a lot of people, especially in people with mental disorders or deep emotional problems. I wanted to leave.

Then things really started looking weird. Her face was made out of clay, and it started wigging. Her skin turned a corpse-like gray. Her flesh was writhing. Then it was like millions of maggots were crawling just under the skin of her face. A little later, for a moment, her head was like a lop-sided balloon, swollen with one side squished inward. Then her face shrunk into a limp membrane with a million tiny wrinkles like an over-inflated balloon that had been voided of air. Then her head wibbled into a Mr. Potato head. The whole time, physically, she looked normal, but it was her inner face that was doing all of that. She had the face of a model, but to me, she was ugly on the inside. Nobody else's face did that. There were no other visual aberrations that night. Not that I believe, but I'll call this an 'aura' with the New Age (as in Shirley McClain sees the aura of Elvis when she talks to him in his UFO on the Astral Plane) definition. It was enough to make me feel dirty. Disgusted, I had the urge to go home and take a shower.

I'm not using this blog to experiment with Fiction Writing, but I'm trying to describe something that I perceive subjectively. No matter what condition I'm in, whether I'm sober, drunk, on opium, this happens. The phenomena that I'm describing I see so vividly with my imagination that they look real, and if I didn't know better, I would believe that they were real. In other words, I could sketch these things, but I could never photograph them. Or, I am so close to being a Schizophrenic that I can stand on the edge of the cliff of sanity and look down over the edge into the madness without actually falling. At least for now.

Another party, another night.

My job has nothing to do with fashion yet somehow I end up at a couple of their parties. What really bothered me last week was another woman I met at another fancy party. The moment I looked at her, I felt like I knew her and had known her for a long time. Her name was uhhh, we never exchanged names. Her English isn't good and neither is my French. Anyway, it felt comfortable to be near her and speak to her. She had a kind of warm radiant light around her. The light was soothing and balanced like a softly-lit room and unlike the baneful brown spotlight glaring out of the forehead of the girl from the other party. We must have talked for no more than a half hour. For me that's a long time because I generally don't like talking to people for that long before I feel painfully bored or annoyed. Talking to her was like remembering or catching up with a long lost friend.
I felt like I was standing next to a powerful magnet. I've never felt so strongly attracted to anyone my entire life. Something must be really the matter with me. I don't like people, and I don't have the biological urge to have a mate or the susceptibility to pheromones that makes people feel 'infatuation' and want to engage in coitus. I began to feel a sense of frozen panic [like a deer caught in the headlights of a speaking truck.] Besides, there were almost 1000 people at this party and with everybody else's pheromones mixing, there is no way one person's could have that effect on me. But I would be trapped and vulnerable in the worst way if i stayed near her. She turned and stepped aside to say something to someone she apparently knew. OK, it's some dude who must be her date. They obviously know each other and give the impression that they arrived together.

I'm sick and tired of being accused of flirting with or hitting on people's spouses and dates when I'm only chatting or trying to be friendly or only just polite. Even if he's not her date, this is a good excuse for me to leave. Not that I wanted to leave, but I could have stayed beside her all night. I felt that I liked being near her too much. While she was talking to him, I pushed my way through the crowd and went to the coat check room and got my coat. At the door, I looked back across the room and met her eyes. She was looking at me. She had a strange expression like she was wondering what was wrong with me for leaving. In a city of more than a million people, if I leave now, the odds are extremely unlikely that/ I will ever see her again. The porter opened the door, and I left.
Now, half a week later, I feel very sick. I don't even know name, but she's all I can think about. I can't even sleep properly, and when I do, I dream of her. In the dreams her name is Ariadne and I wake up saying her name. I have lost my appetite. I have never felt this way before, not even with girlfriends I was fond of, and I don't know what's wrong with me. The one time I felt even remotely like this was for some girl in 9th grade who figured it out (I never told her and even avoided her). She sent me a note saying to meet her in a shed behind the school during lunch, and had her friends ambush me in there and beat me up.

Did she (Ariadne) do this to me on purpose? Is there some kind of seduction super-power that certain people have that can make people become obsessed with them?

I don't know if she put something in my wine or what, it feels worse than the craving for any drug. Should have run away or stayed? How is it possible to miss somebody even to long to see somebody I only talked to for a few minutes? I don't even miss my gf, but my gf has been nothign but a bitch the last year, and we have really broken up.

Now I can try to let it wear off - this obsession with Ariadne. If I cant, I might go to the red light district and fsck some hookers and try to get this out of my system.

Oh yeah, I completely forgot about her, but Céline from the first party emailed me asking if i would like to have coffee with her this week. I'm sorry but I can't bring myself to even answer her email with a yes or no. I feel guilty. She was kind and sweet and affectionate, but there just wasn't any chemistry. She didn't seem like much of a mountain climber either. Ariadne (she never told me her name. I only drempt that it was her name.) from the the second party is all i can think about.

Sorry for the messy long rambling entry. I'll edit it later.

Could You Watch?

I've been taking things personally

Intramuscular Injection if Lorazepam with an Antique Syringe

Deleted.... Much needed rant!

Benzos the sweet relief your always their by my side calming and relaxing spending the day with me watching tv on the couch then I look and your gone I stare for a minute in shock how can you be gone so fast then on the couch I stare at the ceiling wondering how to get you back next to me

Isolation of Ergot Alkaloids from Claviceps purpurea Culture Suspensions Using Clay

Source: LSD. Otto Snow. Thoth Press (2003). 124–126. DOWNLOAD


It has been found surprisingly, that adsorbent clays such as bentonite, nontronite, bleaching earth, and Fuller’s earth have an unusually high adsorption capacity at the natural pH value of the culture suspension not only for the ergometrine, but for all the investigated ergot alkaloids of the most diverse structures.

It has further been discovered that the mycella-adsorbent mixture can be separated from the liquid component in a relatively facile manner through filtration or other physical separation means.

A still further surprising discovery was that after physical separation, the mycella-adsorbent mixture containing the alkaloids can be subjected to fluidized bed drying according to the known physical parameters at the normally unfavorably high temperature for the alkaloids of 80°–90° C. without isomerization or decomposition of the compounds. After a washing with a weak aqueous alkaline solution, the alkaloids can then be extracted easily and virtually completely from the dry mycella-adsorbent mixture with an organic aprotic solvent.

In further investigations it was determined that this drying process was also applicable to those cultures in which the alkaloids are contained in the cell mass; thus, the addition of the adsorbent in these systems was not necessary. In this case, after mechanical separation and drying in the fluidized bed, dry mycella containing the alkaloid are obtained, the further work-up of which is not dependent upon the time of the termination of the drying process, unlike in the prior art.

This inventive process can be used to isolate a whole spectrum of ergot alkaloids, such as ergocryptine, ergotamine, ergocristine, ergocornine, ergometrine, lysergic acid, agroclavine, ergosine and others. This is achieved through the addition of 4–5% by weight, based on the water soluble recovered material, of an adsorbent clay and stirring for about 30 minutes. After mechanical separation of the solid material, for example through filtration, the wet mycella-adsorbent mixture is placed in a fluidized drying bed at 80°–90° C. for about 20 to 40 minutes until an exhaust temperature of between 50° and 70° C. and a residual moisture content of no more than about 15% is achieved. The mycella-adsorbent mixture is then mixed with an aqueous, weakly alkaline solution, for example, 15% ammonia water, and then extracted with an appropriate organic solvent, for example, a lower carboxylic acid ester, acetone or a halogenated hydrocarbon. This extract is then further treated by liquid-liquid extraction with an aqueous acidic phase-in a ratio of 2:1 to 1:1 by volume, in order to eliminate the non-basic residue. The aqueous solution containing the total alkaloid content is then made basic to a pH in the range of 8 to 9.5 and the alkaloids are extracted with an organic solvent not miscible with water, preferably ethyl acetate, in a ratio of 1:1 to 3:1 by volume.

The further treatment of the extract follows the known procedure with recognition of the chemical and physical properties of the alkaloids.

Bentonite is a montmorillonite-containing clay, named after its source, Fort Benton, Mont. It is among the group of clays commonly referred to as bleaching earths which require activation by an acidic treatment process. Fuller’s earth, another montmorillonite-containing clay, is not treated by any activation process before use; hence its description as a “raw bleaching earth”. These and other adsorbent clays may be employed in the inventive process.

Example 1

200 L. of culture suspension of Claviceps purpurea (Fr.), Tul. IMET PA 130 (obtained from the Jena Central Institute for Microbiology and Experimental Therapy, GDR) is stirred for 30 minutes with 8 kg bentonite. It is then filtered through a 10 mm layer of calcium sulfate dihydrate over a rotary vacuum cell filter; the practically alkaloid-free filtrate is discarded. The recovered mycella-bentonite mixture is dried in a fluidized bed at an influx temperature of 90° C. until an exhaust temperature of 60° C. is achieved. This takes approximately 30 minutes. There is recovered 20–24 kg of mycella-bentonite mixture with a residual moisture content of from 3–5%; this mixture contains 95–100% of the ergotoxine and 92–96% of the ergometrine contained in the culture suspension.

Example 2

100 L. of the culture suspension of Example 1 is stirred for 1 hour with 5 kg of bleaching earth, filtered, and the mycella-adsorbate mixture is dried in the fluidized bed at 80°–90° C. for about 15 minutes until an exhaust temperature of 50° C. is reached. There is recovered 12 kg of the dried mycella-adsorbent mixture with a residual moisture content of 10–12% and an alkaloid content of 92–100% based on the culture suspension.

Example 4

60 Kg. of the dry mycella-adsorbent mixture of Example 1 or 2 is mixed with 7.5 L. of 1:1 diluted ammonia, extracted in a mechanical extractor with 150 L. chloroform or methylene chloride over 45 minutes, filtered under pressure and the process repeated with the same volume of solvent for 30 minutes. The total extract is added to an equal volume of 5% aqueous acetic acid and processed in a separator, the aqueous phase constantly adjusted to pH 9; the process is repeated a second time with the same solvent or with ethylene acetate at a double volume. After evaporation and isolation of the ergometrine and ergotoxine, the adducts and yields of an alkaloid content of 96 to 103% calculated as the bimaleinate. The yield is (approx.) 351.6 g ergotoxine-toluol adduct, 72% calculated from the culture suspension and 243 g ergometrin-chloroform adduct, 82% from the suspension.

Example 5

30 L. culture solution of Claviceps purpurea IMET PA 134 at its natural pH value (5–6) is stirred for 30 minutes with 1.2 kg bentonite. It is then filtered through a layer of calcium sulfate dihydrate and the filtrate discarded. Drying of the mycella-adsorbent mixture according to Example 1 yields 2.8 kg of the dry mixture, which contains practically all of the alkaloid content of the culture suspension (ergosine, ergosinine, traces of chanoclavine). Rotary extraction of the alkaloids with a 10 to 12 fold volume of ethyl acetate yields up to 90% of the alkaloid content of the dry mycella-bentonite mixture.

Source: Grawert 1980

The previous methods can be used in the extraction of ergot alkaloids from Claviceps paspali cultures.

Grawert, W; Schiedt, L.; Neumann, B.; Heidenbluth, K; Dauth, C; Schirutschke, R.; Müller, M.; Process for the Isolation of Ergot Alkaloids from Culture Suspensions; 1980; US 4,237,291
This article can be viewed here: https://www.google.com/patents/US4237291?dq=4,237,291

NOTE: On pg. 178, Otto Snow follows up to the above information by describing ergot mixtures filtered using bentonite and other clays as consisting of predominantly ergine and isoergine. A list of all the ergoline alkaloids found in morning glory seeds can be found on page 227 in this PDF: DOWNLOAD.

Just cause I'm on the tail end of a stim high and bored at work lemme tell you how to never get a hangover.

I spent the last Monday&Tuesday playing carnival. For those who don't know it is basically half naked people drinking publicly, half fucking and running around the downtown area in Trinidad. I was able to come to work today without feeling any effects from the alcohol I drank the days before. The only problem I had was walking cuz I had been "jumping up" for 2 days straight and then into the after party Tuesday night.

GOLDEN RULE - Never mix alcohol with coke/sprite/ or any sugary drink. There already about a Kg of sugar in 1 bottle of booze.
Club Soda/Soda water/Water or juice if there's absolutely nothing else.

Anyway.
1st rule- On the day of any plans of drinking. Eat something high in fiber, have fruits and lots of water so that when you reach the setting to start drinking, you're already pissing like if you necked a couple beers.

2nd rule- For every drink you have, also have a bottle of water (355ml) will do. Do not get another drink till your water is done.

3rd rule- Repeat 2nd rule until sufficiently buzzed and then switch completely to water and try to have something to eat before you switch. ( I usually smoke weed cuz when I'm drinking and socializing the anxiety n such negate my appetite. The weed makes me eat and then I switch to water.

4th rule- (optional) Always drink something WHITE. or WHITE and High proof'd(High proof'd white rum (150 proof) has NEVER given me a hangover or fucked up drunk as it is so pure (I compare it between the vape high and smoked weed high. One is always cleaner and doesn't get you as groggy) even when I don't focus on my water intake, it is by far the superior liquor to drink to avoid hangovers. I use it whenever I have responsibilities to wake up for in the AM(obviously consume all psychoactives substances in moderation along with suffice H2O.). If not then you'd always get a slight hangover. But with anything white there is less impurities in the drink as the barrell used to store Rum/Whiskey/etc. causes the brown colour.

5th rule- NEVER mix alcohol. NOT because the mix will get you drunker as I believe that is not the case but when mixing alcohol one tends to drink more than if one was to simply sip on their own quantity throughout the time. Hey, I'm not saying that you CANNOT have a couple shots. I treat shots like a bong toke, I know my limit to those and with the limit of my other indulgence with regular drinking etc..

6th rule- When you're done with the night, go home, eat something high in carbs and drink about a litre of water.

7th rule- (optional) Wake up feeling like a daisy, smoke a fatty J and reflect on all the beautiful ass you saw the night before .

Swim Safely . The pool can get very deep... Binge drinking is the 2nd worst form of drinking in terms of liver damage tmk. Never over-indulge.


Also no matter what anyone tells you, if you do manage to reach home and you know you'd be hungover or something, take Ibuprofen for any headaches or body aches the next day or even the same night.. Acetaminophen is dangerous to be in the liver at the same time as alcohol and it's by-products. I mean you can do it once in a while but never make a habit of it.

EDIT: You should not smoke weed (without a decent tolerance) after drinking copious amounts of alcohol as it can easily cause the spins and a heavy movement (Not suitable for parties).

Don't forget to piss & dance.

This weekend marks my 5th or 6th attempt at trying to get on subs. I've honestly lost count at this point. Each time the induction is hell, but day 1 yesterday actually wasn't too bad. I once again made the mistake of getting some blow to help get through the sub transition, which has just left me with some added depression now that it has inevitably run out in less than a day. I'm dealing though, and etizolam helps. Another substance which has been a god send a times, but still worries me as the last thing we need at this point is a benzo addiciton.

This time has to be different. In about 9 months I've drained my stock account which was over 20k, as well as cut out approximately 15k from savings. My finances have taken a major hit this past year, all for pills. Spending $30 a pill, when it takes at least 3 these days to get a buzz. Dosing 4-5 times per day, and having to feed this habit for 2 people. It added up and got out of control quickly.

Last week I took a positive step as saw a psychiatrist for the first time. I'm not sure yet about him, but he did prescribe me subs, which was my main purpose for seeing him. I know that having subs in my history will make it difficult for me to obtain scripts from my pain management doc, and while that is terrifying, it needed to be done. Month after month we've shown that we can't control my script. It runs out earlier and earlier, to the point that now my script of 20mg Opana ER 2x day, and 10mg Opana IR 3x day, only lasts about 6 days. The strongest prescription opioid out there, and it lasts 6 fucking days. I used to love Opana. The euphoria is still great at times, but it is evil. Now after just a day of snorting it I'm experiencing difficult breathing and the feeling of a barbell sitting on my chest. I don't event want to think about the damage this abuse is causing my body. Panic attacks have started in the last month, the first of which was a terrifying episode which landed me an ambulance ride to the ER. They haven't been so bad the past week, so hopefully they are subsiding.

This has to stop. Spending literally thousands of dollars and meeting with shady guys late on random weeknights while my little girl that I worked so hard to bring into this world is sitting at home. I have to be a better father to her, and I can't do that by living this lifestyle. I love opiates. At this point I really don't think that anything in my life can bring me pleasure besides opiates, but I know that isn't a recipe for a long and happy life. I have too much to lose and getting a buzz can no longer be the most important thing in my life.

I'm optimistic this time, mostly because our bank accounts are so depleted that it's really getting to the point that we can't buy more pills. I don't know whats next, but my goal is to stay off the pills and start the slow process of building up our finances again. Opiates have given me some fun times, but honestly those stopped years ago. Now it's just a chore, that takes away from what should be my priorities - my daughter and my wife. I've been a bad husband, or at least an absent one. I miss being excited to try a new restaurant with my wife, and laughing hystericaly about the most ridiculous things that nobody would get but us. I miss going to see a show together and bonding over music. The problem is, so many of those good memories also involved taking pills together. We both have to learn how to enjoy life without them. I truly believe after everything we've been through that she is my soul mate. She gets me like nobody else ever has, and after all of these years I still love to spend time with her. She's my best friend. A lot of couples say that, but I mean it. I have to be a better man, and can't give in when things get tough as they surely will.

Hoping for the best and that this is the moment my life turns around. It's a critical point and could very well determine which direction the remainder of my life goes.

I went to post this during my nightly smoke while my daughter gets her bath, and my laptop died. Fitting. - http://youtu.be/zwFS69nA-1w

This is the first day of my life
I swear I was born right in the doorway
I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed
They're spreading blankets on the beach

Yours is the first face that I saw
I think I was blind before I met you
Now I don't know where I am
I don't know where I've been
But I know where I want to go

And so I thought I'd let you know
That these things take forever
I especially am slow
But I realize that I need you
And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night
Just to meet me in the morning
And I thought it was strange you said everything changed
You felt as if you'd just woke up
And you said "this is the first day of my life
I'm glad I didn't die before I met you
But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you
And I'd probably be happy"

So if you want to be with me
With these things there's no telling
We just have to wait and see
But I'd rather be working for a paycheck
Than waiting to win the lottery
Besides maybe this time is different
I mean I really think you like me

1. I love the smellof his skin 2. The feel of his hair 3. The touch of his hand 4. The Embrace of his hug 5. The privilege of receiving his kiss. 6. The comfort of his company 7. The way of his heart 8. The view of his eyes 9. The sound of his voice 10. The vibration of his aura 11. The warmth of his laugh 12. The vulgarity of his humor 13. His outstanding intelligence 14. His everlasting curiosity of life. 15. The opportunity to enjoy his existence in my life path

I am grateful for being able to love you.....

My mind stays in a state of blankness, no more do i have the quick wit of my youth and sharp mind. I sometimes even find it hard to maintain a conversation with someone because i cant think of the next thing to say to further the convo. Its a depressing state of mind to be in, previously i had always been the delight of people Im with. Im 27 now, i feel like ive lost my memory, i should have been writing more stuff down. i always thought that my memory would serve me well and as i got older i would be happy because of all the great memories ive had. Because ive lived a pretty awesome life, so far, in my perspective atleast. I love music, i love everything it, the production, performance, the feeling, everything. Ive spent many years of my youth going to see various concerts, festivals, tours, and i partied while there. But i feel as tho my mind doesnt keep up with that of my friends, i seem to have to think of things to say when the room goes silent, i never just have something funny come to me anymore and just say it, or something interesting for that matter. I just exist. Ive smoked a lot of tree over my years and had an opiate addiction to which im clean of, been clean for 3+ years, Its like im stuck in that bullshit highschool mindset where im still trying to act cool around some of my closest friends and girlfriend, but im just not cool anymore lol.

My boss was at the airport to greet me - being picked up at the airport after a difficult trip makes life much easier. She went out of her way to do it. It was on a saturday (Halloween) and she had to sacrifice family duties. That was very nice of her

I had boarded the plane around 8 am Friday california time and it was now 2 pm Paris time (9 time zones). Roughly 21 hours of travelling (2 transfers and layovers) had tired and frazzzled me, and I was not in good condition to deal with anything on my own. She bought me lunch and a coffee then dropped me off at my hotel. My apartment wouldn't be ready for 2 more days.

I hadn't had a full night of sleep for a few days because of the time it took to prepare and decide what to pack, do social things, from tapering, minor WDs, etc.

When packing, the less you take, the harder it is to pack because you really have to think about each thing and how much you want to keep it. You start thinking about how much it will encumber your movement at the airport and how much it weighs and how much it will cost to ship it all.

At the hotel, I took a quick nap, got up before dark, put on a coat and hat and walked around the block where the hotel was located and bought a sandwich and some fruit at a tiny grocery store. I was hungry, but I continued walking, carrying my food but not eating. I didn't see anybody eating food in public on the sidewalk or the park. I was wondering if there is a cultural taboo against eating food in public other than at restaurants and cafes. Maybe only slobs or tourists eat in public in France.

So i continued to walk around trying to decide how to eat. I was sleep deprived and in my state, this question was bothering me. I didn't want to look like a greedy slob or a pig or a tourist - I was sure that I would if I were the only one eating in public. So I went to Brançion park. This small park was crowded. 100s of people were there strolling, sitting or standing. But nobody was eating; most of them were reading books alone or in groups. They were all ages, not just students.

I was happy to see so many people reading. The French, Parisians at least, must be very educated and intellectual. This might be a place where I can fit in, feel at home, talk to somebody whose idea of a conversation is something other than the exploits of his favorite hyper-commercialized 'sports' team, and make some friends. I noticed that to the edge of the park was a very large open-air book market covering about an acre of land. Despite my hunger and exhaustion, I started to feel good about being here.

I've never seen so many people reading, not even at a bookstore or library in the US. In California at parks, most people walk, play games, do drum circles, smoke pot, or sit and talk or eat or play with their iCrap devices. Even at American libraries most people don't (and probably can't) read. I have spent a lot of time in American libraries in several states, and most libraries I've been to have degenerated into free daycare centers full of out of control children and ados (adolescents) dumped there or just out of school to be supervised by the librarian until the parents came home from work or shopping or drinking at the corner bar or whatever they were doing that they didn't want children to be with them.

Eventually I gave up. I found a bench and hid my food in a bag where I broke off tiny pieces and surreptitiously ate them.