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A and I broke up 3 weeks ago. Currently in the process of selling off most of our stuff which is really hard to do. I found somewhere to move to with a mate, city center, mint place.

Looking forward to new sights and new beginnings.

Today I took a walk across town to hear a couple of old friends doing a jazz concert to benefit the Land Trust. I have known them since the 70's when I first landed here but its only lately they have started to perform together--just Scott on the stand-up bass and Laura singing. I remember back when Laura and I first met. She was one of the only straight women in some group I was in. I can't remember what we were up to--saving the world in some way, no doubt.8) She had a gorgeous voice, I remember that. We lost touch for a while then reconnected years later, both of us mothers. She recorded lullabies that I learned to sing to my own boys. Scott was developing music software by then and she was a lawyer. They both played music, just not together. About 6 years ago they started doing jazz together--brave, with no band, only the bass and Laura's voice even though she never used to sing jazz.

The walk I took was around 3 miles maybe. It occurred to me how stupid it was that I hike a lot and take long walks on the beach and in the woods, but for some reason I have become conditioned to jumping in my car if my destination is across town. So I started out and as I walked it was peaceful to have the neighborhoods give way one into another at such a slow pace and to let my mind free associate, memories of 2/3 of a lifetime falling in step beside me. Usually it is Caleb I think of but today I was thinking of myself as the girl that fell into this town in a storm of tears, distraught over my cat getting run over in Big Sur, numb, confused, really alone but finding her feet.

I live on the east side now but where I was headed was over on the west side, our town being neatly divided as such by a river. Crossing over the bridge I stopped for a fish taco. I sat at a table with a few older Mexican workers but the bulk of the patrons of the taquería were students--mostly asian-- and people my age who were obviously gearing up for some Dead tribute or something judging by the T-shirts. When I got my food I automatically said Buen Provecho to my table mates and one of them asked me where I was from. I told him, "Here." It is so strange to say that, never having been from anywhere for so long and then just falling out of the sky here one day and never leaving. I thought about how I didn't speak a word of Spanish when I came, how half the population was a mystery to me. I also thought about being a student at UCSC, after being a fuck-up and a runaway I felt like I had survived it all back then-- being a student and having goals meant I must have reached some safe place where my life would now stream out as I imagined it.

Walking up the hill, past the town clock, I was back to being that 19 year old girl. She made me laugh really. I passed the place where I went dancing by myself every night for a few weeks in a sexy red dress and wouldn't let anyone pick me up as some kind of feminist statement about not being afraid. The bar is gone and now there is a restaurant and a head shop. Further up the hill I remembered once climbing into a huge magnolia tree tripping on LSD and spending the whole night up there--my friend that I had started the trip with and i having forgotten each others existence. I was sad to see the tree was gone and there was a small ornamental plum in its place. There was the high school where Wendy and I used to sneak over the fence into the pool doing naked laps and then getting tangled up trying to put our clothes back onto wet bodies. I remembered how my banjo playing boyfriend, Paul, used to stop his jeep on the steep hill at the red light and then freak me out pretending he was going to just get out and walk away. He would slide his right foot over onto the brake and open the door and step out with his other foot just to hear me scream. years later, when Brian taught me to drive, I avoided this hill if I could.

Finally I was on my old street. I knew that the old victorian student house had long ago been carved up and turned into condos. Still, I stopped on the curb in front and shut my eyes for a minute and went back. I remembered the dream I had there--the one where I had born out of huge wave and literally thrown onto a foamy shore only to be slapped by this man who demanded that I tell him why I was here. Each time I answered, "I don't know", he slapped my face. After a while he told me to follow him and we trudged up dunes to what was my room in this house. It was beautiful, full of light, my few belongings already there. "Here, is where you will start to answer that question." strange how a dream can come back to you after 40 years. Stranger still that he was right--that I did start to craft answers to the question--or at least ask it of myself in that room.

Time has a way of looping in and out of itself. Before you know it there is a life almost lived up. I could not have forseen that I would stay, that I would move all over town and leave lover after lover--each one surely the love of my life at the outset; that I would eventually create a family with one man and bring two blonde little surfers into existence; that they would themselves grow to nineteen in this town; that I would plant trees and sit in their shade and eat their fruit year after year; that some of the fields I worked to save did get saved and others paved over; that lots of my friends would become my family of choice, that some of them would die young and some would survive to hold me up when Caleb died, younger than anyone could fathom.

I feel ready to leave this town, this country. This town holds so much of me that is gone. But it does hold that, and today as I walked back through it, marveling at how young I was when I came here and the rich and wonderful life that seemed to simply unfold in front of me, I almost cried with gratitude. Did I ever imagine--in all those imagined lives--that I could live this one?

I'm not a blogger at heart i just tend to sit in the background and read the brave stories of others...
But here i am sat pondering whether to write or not. My story is simple compared to others i have two adorable children who i love dearly and wife who after 26 years has decided to pull the plug on our relationship, the relationship to be honest died many years ago so i take my hat of to her for having the courage to do what she has done. I'm told that with what she has put me through i should be delighted now have the opportunity to start again, so why do i feel so sad and lonely, the worst loneliness is that what you feel when you are actually still in a relationship and that's where i have been for many years now, i hasten to add the children, through their choice are both coming with me of which i feel humbled.

Please, i don't ask for comments, but if you do be nice, take care and stay safe all.

PR

Hey Jamal is me Evan, I miss you tons I'm trying to quit the sauce it's hard jmal just like your bbc, I had some turtle balls yesterday and started to cry I miss you so much. Sometimes I think about ending it to be with you where you are bet it hell or heaven I'll . Jamal big daddy, I love you more than my fucked up mine can describe . I love you more than the sun loves the moon. I love you more than cocaine misses heroin. Or more than a cock misses a pussy.

Love you,miss you,rape me,fuck me , dwe.

Fuck a duck, past few days I've really needed time off from every aspect of normal life. It's great to just spend some time having fun cooking and being stoned. Unfortunately, the CD folks choose this moment in time to go haywire and be all posting off-topic and shit so today's just been drinking coffee and figuring out how to do damage control. I'm not really sure how exactly other mods internalize their approach toward their own respective subforums, but for me I like being ordered and sticking to a scheme/theme once I commit to it. By the same measure, this is how people choose leaders. Should Obama have gotten a second term in office? Maybe not, but it's par for the course because it's human desire to give a person time to at least accomplish some of their objectives instead of replacing them at the first chance and risking the chaos/upheaval that naturally comes with transition periods. I think humanity just has a tendency to think in terms of damage control and choosing the scenarios that stand the best chance of not going completely thermonuclear on failure.

Anyway, I'm not interested in putting any more thought into the workings of CD right now. Right now I have another issue to mull over: toking up. I've been on and off for a while, but when I'm on it's hard to get off and being off causes me to feel some serious ennui. It's really a shitty situation, because on one hand, there's nothing better than some herb to decompress, but on the other hand, I have so much shit to get done before 2015 that I can't afford to be decompressing on the daily like the herb tends to encourage. So... fack!!

Making matters worse is my lack of organization. It's different with my digital life, where I have to keep things organized to insulate against the threat of malware or hardware failures, but in my real life I don't even have that many valuable assets to secure so it's just a matter of inserting my car into the garage, keeping the front door locked and keeping the ol domicile clean, which TBPH is something that I mostly do for the benefit of visitors rather than for myself. In fact, I prefer as simple a life as possible just so that I can manage it all properly and not have to stress too much about annoyances like throwing out the trash regularly.

Is it fair to call me lazy if I'm not interested in building up a huge life because I don't want the responsibility of managing it? My friend has been making a huge deal lately about buying his own house. He's unmarried and plans to get his parents to cosign because that's the only way the bank will give him half a million bucks to buy a place and the mortgage payments are going to be $2k/mo. for a long, long time. Just hearing about it stresses me out. I can't imagine a commitment like that. He's OK with renting out most of the house to where the rent payments will cover the mortgage and he just needs to pay for utilities and repairs, but it's still going to require a lot of steady saving up if he wants to maybe consider marrying someone who might want to store shit in the occupied basement, or actually have guests use the guest room, or maybe want to cook naked in the kitchen without some random guy wandering through to grab an eyeful along with a bottle of gatorade. But then, cooking up far-fetched hypotheticals has always been my thing.

Personally, I just can't see it. As much as I would love a house of my own and a workshop where I can store/work on a car (I'm an incorrigible gearhead FYI), the idea of taking on massive debts and being chained to those obligations for decades is almost as bad to me as being told I'm going to prison. I've been trying to come to terms with the fact that I have to scale back my life and live pretty frugally to make due and live properly within my means in a way that doesn't inhibit me from packing my bags and taking off somewhere whenever I feel like it. But, I'm also a homebody so it's hard to just accept this existence as a transient, which is effectively what a person is considered if they don't subscribe to major commitments like mortgage and car loan payments. Maybe we need a new saying to replace "we are what we eat". How about: "we are how we spend our money"?

So uh... real talk. I don't know where I'm going with this but I've just had a disgusting slurry of cold-brewed coffee mixed up with hot decaf and I'm feeling like another cup of it with some salted pistachios because because... coffee... good... yes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQBblcaifoY

http://thephilosophersstone.blogspot.com/

I've never worn a cowboy hat before because they are only appropriate for ranchers and rednecks, but I did live in a cabin in the high desert in eastern Oregon for a year. Before leaving San Francisco, I bought a Stetson cowboy hat. That and I brought a leather motorcycle jacket with me.

With those and the rest of my stuff, I brought 4 bags of luggage with me on the flight to Paris. That includes my bicycle and mountaineering gear. Total luggage weight was 223 pounds. 4 bags of stuff is now all I own. To picture this mass, it almost completely filled the backseat of a taxi. I needed a buggy to move it at the airport.

Going thorugh security was nerve wracking since I was carrying about a gram of heroin. I had dissovled it all in water and put the mixture in a Visine bottle. Sadly, 1 gram was still barely enough make me stop feeling crappy.

About 12 hours into the flight, I was feeling nasty. Even though I had tapered, heroin withdrawals were kicking in. I had actually smuggled some onto the flight in a Visine bottle, but I went into the bathroom at the Seatle and squirted it all up my nose. I was scared of going thorugh French Customs that I would be caught.



The airline fscked up the back wheel of my bike. It now has a slight wobble and rubs the brake pads. Before travelling, it was perfectly true. I'm going to file an insurance claim to get it replaced.

Codeine is converted to morphine by the enzyme CYP2D6 in the human liver. As any bluelighter must know, morphine is what makes you feel good by its action on mu opioid receptors in the pleasure centers of the brain. To help things, I chug some grapefruit juice which contains .... to inhibit the liver enzyme .... which steals your codeine if left unchecked. In large enough doses, codeine will get you high as heroin. The onset is a lot slower.

So later in the evening after getting off the plane, I put on a Brooks Brothers shirt and sweater, some khakis, my leather jacket, and my Stetson cowboy hat, . And went into a drugstore and bought a box of Tussipax tablets. They contain the opiates codeine and efthylmorphine. Each tablet contains about 15 mg of codeine and 10 mg of ethylmorphine. There are 20 tablets in a box. That totals to about 500 mg of good stuff. All for around 2 boners a box. They keep them behind the counter, and so I have to ask the pharmacist for what I want. I was sick as hell when I went in. I hadn't slept in 3 days, was exhausted from getting ready and nervous about having to move. I actually liked San Francisco. It's one place where you can surf in the morning, get on a train to a ski resort in South Lake Tahoe, and ski all in the same day. Plus, the natural beauty is spectacular.

Anyway, I felt %100 percent better after eating the box of codeine tablets. I felt alive again.

I'm surprised overall how few people here actually speak English. I've never been here before.... but I've read that everyone in Europe speaks English. Not true. Since July, I started learning french, studying a little each day. My method was to memorize a Petit Larousse dictionary that I found on the roadside in Paris the first day I arrived. I memeorized about 6000 words (about all of the non-jargon and non-technical words). The problem with that method is that while I can read french very well now and write it (except my grammar is bad) I don't know how anything is pronounced.

So to get what I want, I say in my broken french that I have a dry cough. She brings out the robotussein. No, I odn't want robo. I prefer codeine. It will help me sleep. I have jet lag because I just crossed 9 time zones. It's still yesterday where I'm from. She gets the tussipax. Then I go and do the same thing at a pharmacy on the next corner. Tehre is a pharmacy on every stgreet corner in Paris. Now I have about 1 gram of codein and ethylmorphine. That's enough to get a good nod.

As you might guess, I never fully quit heroin. I worked it down to once every few days. Technically, I'm no longer physically dependent, but I still like the stuff. The day before departure, I was packing.. I dissolved a couple grams of heroin in a Visine eye dropper bottle and stuck it in my carry on. (I would never try this going back to the USA because the imagration and customs officials are nasty fscking illiterate pieces of shit who harass everybody going into that toilet bowl of a country.) The weight was under 3 ounces, so it was unlikely they would check it. So I had a 4 hour layover in Rejkjevik Iceland after a 9 hour transcontinental/transatlanctic flght where neigher food nor water were served. I was hurting. I was too scared to try it in the lavotory of the plane. I was hurting so I go to the toilet and squirt a large bolus of dissolved heroin up my nose. I hold my head back for a few minutes, then pinch my nostrils, let go, and suck up anything that dripped. Within minutes, the pain is gone.



Last week I spent doing administrative things for setting up my work at the Institute. I'm going to set up a research lab working and getting used to my apartment

Drugstore Cowboy

So I put on my cowboy hat. I actually brought a wool Stetson cowboy hat with me. And go into the drugstore and buy boxes of Tussipax. They contain the opiates codeine and ethylmorphine. They keep them behind the counter, and so I have to ask the pharmacist for what I want. I'm surprised overall how few people here actually speak English. I've never been here before.... but I've read that everyone in Europe speaks English. Not true. Since July, I started learning french, studying a little while each day. My method was to memorize a Petit Larousse dictionary that I found on the roadside in San Francisco. I memeorized about 6000 words (about all of the non-jargon and non-technical words). The problem with that method is that while I can read french very well now and write it (except my grammar is bad) I don't know how anything is pronounced.


So I eat 2 boxes of tablets for about 600 mg of codeine total. It's slow to kick in, but once it does, the effect is similar to Mexican Brown tar heroin taken up the nose. Injected, heroin is like riding a rocket, but insulflated, it's mellow...



In some cases, my broken french is even better I eat a box of the tablets and feel good for a little while.


It's strange how freindly poeple are here. Especially when I wear a cowboy hat, it's obvious I'm a foreigner, and people will smile and say hello. I have no idea. Am I the Village Idiot that they take pity on or are they sincerely welcoming?



I ache all day and have a constant cold. I think I'm going to take a train to Amsterdam and buy some heroin, just so I can feel good for the first time in a month.

I am bored and intoxicated and my buddy just left to go get some pussy so i will write since i have no one else to hear me ramble.

My parents are from italy but i speak very little italian because when i was about 5 years old my dad said something like "we are american and we speak english in this house" which was weird because it was so sudden that i think something must have happened to him to cause that. my father was very big on trying to make sure we knew our roots and then suddenly we would get whipped for speaking out of english. this was in arkansas and our family was attacked constantly because we were the closest thing to a "minority" that most of these fucking hicks would ever see.

skipping forward. after being told i was a piece of shit my whole life i started to act like one. everyone talks about their college years. to me 6th grade was the shit. i started drinking, fucking older sluts and doing drugs when i was 12. it was fucking great.

13 years old i moved to chicago to live with my aunt because the state of arkansas was trying to send me to juvi. i finally felt like i belonged. i lived in an italian neighborhood and didnt feel so foreign in the land i was born in but after a while i realized there is a lot of elitism between wops. italians that were born in italy and moved here are fucking gods, wops who grew up in that neighborhood are 2nd class, and i am basically a mutt because i was raised down south. I was a "wopabily" The elitism that dagos from italy seem to have totally turned me off to the point where i actually turned down a free trip to Palermo.

i could tell a fuckload of "war stories" when it comes to drugs but you all have those. just felt like rambling and i dont really care if no one reads it.

So it looks like i'm going to get kicked off my methadone program because i didn't register my clonazepm. i'm only on 37mg so i don't think the detox will be so bad. I ended up overdosing on my clonazepam and my doctor at the hospital called my clinic and told them about what happened. So I expect to get kicked off. I just hope they give me a taper insted of just cutting me off at 37mg. That would kind of suck a lot. thats pretty much it. i hope they don't kick me off. [/SIZE]

last night after i blacked out jamal came to me and said

'DWE WHAT ARE YOU DOING GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER DAWG, I LOVE AND WILL SEE YOU WHEN U DIE"

i woke up wth an amazing hard on around 12 pm and fecked the shit out of my pillow

I just got me a job. It's 10 dollars an hour plus commission. the commission is really nice and all i have to do is talk to people. I don't get paid per sale, i get paid per demo. which means if i can talk the customer into letting our guys come out and demo our windows to them and give them a price quote, which is good for a year to the very date, i get the commission from it. it's nice and gives me a bright and optimistic outlook on life.

anyone else in qld australia come accross speedin rock form.pretty sure its meth thats stomped with msn.smokes ok,racks quite well too.any feedback apreciated

I'm really getting sick of no matter what I do. No matter who I'm texting. She always has to put her two cents in. I get reamed if I take 30 minutes out of my life to work on my website. Its really starting to piss me off. Her dad hates me. She is constantly up my ass. If my phone rings. She says who are you texting. Even if its just my fucking mom. She always has to ask. I have no freedom what so ever and its really getting fucking old. I can't take a shit without clearing it with her first. Vent over

Why should you hold stock with conspiracy theories? Because they're the simplest explanation for all the crappiness. It's Occam's razor, man.

The world is mostly easily painted as the product of someone's desires. The Illuminati are out there man!

This is my first blog post. My blog is going to be about my daily life. Since it's private and none of my friends or family know about it. I can post whatever I want here. I set my alarm clock everyday at 8am so I can wake up and get my fix. This morning I woke up a little on the sick side. Since I fell asleep early (9pm) last night, its been about 11 hours since i've had any opiates. That is probably why I feel a little more sick than usual. I started with 5MG of oxycodone, waited about 10 minutes and then crushed up 5 more MG of oxycodone. I feel right now. No withdrawal and no pain. I'm running a little bit low on my stash. I only have 5 left. With no cash to buy anymore. I have a few clients setup today to fix their computers, so I will have money later today to purchase some more. My hookup has 10MG perks for me to get. So that makes me happy. After Im done posting this blog entry, im going to go work on my personal website for a little bit. Maybe make some coffee, smoke a few cigerettes. Then my first computer repair appointment is at 11am EST.

I have been trying more and more to figure out how to get more visitors to my website. I have made so many websites that are failures in the past that I just want to take this one slow. Not sell anything. Just make it a website people can read from and then leave. Its probably the best way to start out. I couldn't think of a cool name, so i did an expiring now domain name search and found the domain http://realshit.org and thats the one that i decided to use. Sounds pretty cool. Im not really creating a target audience, which i know is a mistake. I should start out with a small targeted audience and then gradually expand in a year or so. Anywho, off to make my coffee. doesn't really matter to me if anybody reads my blog or not, im just posting it for personal record, and personal venting purposes. If you do read it, thanks and there will be more to come.

Full trip report: http://www.bluelight.org/vb/threads...(180mg-MDMA)-First-time-combo-Amazing-synergy

Figured I would just stick a few in a blog. That way they will always be here.

If you don't have anything nice to say, don't bother leaving a comment at all



​The 3 above pic are from my Outer Banks NC Vacation over Labor Day 2014.

I threw away my last 2 unfinished bags of syringes and filters and other drug gear in a random trash can in SF. There were sterile syringes, needles, cookers, tie-offs, .2 micron syringe filters, cotton balls, alcohol wipes, and ampules of saline. These were all left over from the heroin and other opiates I had been doing daily until a few weeks ago. Of course there wasn't any heroin left, but just getting rid of the gear had a feeling of finality to it.

I had mixed feelings as I did this. Shooting up dope has been, for the most part, fun for me. I enjoy the "stoned" feeling of being loaded on heroin. I even liked the raw rush of injecting a shot of heroin into my arm. I had to quit because I'm starting work again and need to be 100% focused. With heroin, there is too much down-time and getting motivated is more difficult. So while I'm working, I'll be too busy to do it. Heroin is for people with a lot of spare time and extra money. That and I don't want to deal with trying to find connections while in WDs in a foreign country.

On a completely unrelated note, I made my first San Francisco 911 call. I was on a walk in the Outer Sunset neighborhood, and I found an old man who seemed lost and confused and very sad. He said he had locked himself out of his apartment and I asked him which one and if he had anything with his address on it with him to prove where he lived.... I would have just called a locksmith for him or maybe his landlord, but as I talked to him, he seemed more and more "off" or confused. I waited outside his building with him until I saw paramedics approaching on the next street corner and I took off.

'Luther' recap: Season 2, Episode 1






And of course I have found the perfect song for it.

Alice is kind of disappointing in this episode, but I know she will be back in a bigger way....I hope



"Phantom Of The Opera"




I've been looking so long for you now you won't get away from my grasp.
You've been living so long in hiding in hiding behind that false mask.
And you know and I know that you ain't got long now to last.
Your looks and your feelings are just the remains of your past.


You're standing in the wings, there you wait for the curtain to fall.
Knowing the terror and holding you have on us all.
Yeah, I know that you're gonna scratch me, maim me and maul.
You know I'm helpless from your mesmerising cat call.


Keep your distance, walk away, don't take his bait.
Don't you stray, don't fade away.
Watch your step, he's out to get you, come what may.
Don't you stray, from the narrow way.


I'm running and hiding in my dreams you're always there.
You're the Phantom of the Opera, you're the devil, you're just out to scare.
You damaged my mind and my soul it just floats through the air.
Haunt me, you taunt me, you torture me back at your lair.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkpMva5hZs4
BLLAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT, pL all day.

all clear on the eastern front.

got that nasty iv coke run done with, just needed to run out of expendable income lol. I was getting some extra cash every week for awhile there, I think I just needed something to spend it on.

I'm doing much better now.

hmmma blog ay