Thursday, May 28, 2009

Rainy Day at Bucket of Suds

I hate having to do laundry at the laundromat. I know that I (which makes me wonder about other people) put some pretty dirty, nasty shit in there. I mean literally, my dogs sometimes have accidents that I clean up the best I can but I still need to run it through the wash. It's gross, I know, but what am I supposed to do? Throw it away? Wash it by hand? Fuck that. Our landlord said we couldn't get a washer & dryer for the apt. because he claims the plumbing can't handle it. Whatever. It's really because hot water & electric comes included with the rent so he's just cheap.
One of the first things I'll save up to get once I have my own place, is a wicked nice washer & dryer. It's so convenient to be able to simply wash stuff as soon as it gets dirty. That way you always have all your clothes to wear and you don't have to waste so much time sitting at a laundromat waiting for stuff to spin & fluff. And I hate how sometimes I get the feeling that some people come here with the hope that they may meet someone. Not to say that I wouldn't necessarily be open to the right person. But I've never really been good interacting with people in general. That's why I like dope so much. It kind of fuzzes the edges of my anxiety and I can actually talk to people without feeling sweaty and nauseous. And since I can't smoke, drink, or boot up here, talking to others is kind of out. Of course I smoked before I left but that was a while ago and I could definitely stand another jib. Well, I could and would have done all of the above in a laundromat at one time. I always kick myself for not bringing something with me. But when I leave I'm wicked stoned and I think, Aw, I'll be good, But I really wish I had at least brought the blunt roach from earlier. I just get so paranoid. Probably because I have no license and a warrant in the state I live in. But I just can't stay cooped up in the house all day. Especially with the gloomy, gray light and the pounding rain. And of course, Mikey is home and even though he'll eventually be sleeping because, thank God, he has to work tonight. I wish I had a secret boyfriend I could invite over and have stay until the wee hours and then have him sneak off before Mike gets home. I'm sure some folks think I'm a total bitch for writing that. Whatever. He's made his own bed and now he can lay in it alone.
If I had stayed home we would have just bitched at each other until I wanted to pull my hair out. I'm sure things are getting worse between us because I'm just done. I used to try to care, try to think it would work itself out because I really wanted it to. I know I've never been as in love with Mike as I could have been. I mean, I've been more in love before in my life and I'm pretty sure he has too. I just feel like, although I am thirty, that's pretty young to resign myself to a life of unfulfillment. It would just be a stupid waste of living. And why else are we here if not to make the most of it. That's one thing that I don't understand about people who don't ever try drugs their whole life. Aren't they curious, don't they wonder what all the rave is about? I'm glad for all I've done if only so that I can know I did, know what it was all about and not regret that I didn't at least try.
Well, that's it for the ranting and griping about nothing of consequence. I'm sure the world will be sad but I must go fold all the clothes now. Even the boxers, jeans, and piles of t-shirts which are not mine. Because, of course, I am the woman and that's my job. Right? People love to believe things have changed and women are treated equally. That's a crock. We get to work as hard, at the same jobs, get paid less and still go home to take care of the kids and do all the chores. I'm beginning to think the best way to finish life would be to live alone and be the mistress to several wealthy men who can pay my bills and satisfy my sexual needs and be off with themselves to let their sucker ass wives do their laundry. Any takers? Wealthy hotties, where are you?

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

I had to take down the pic of me and Mikey. He annoys me so much that I can't stand to have something I enjoy tainted by his face everytime I log on. I like to blog, it helps me chill. Helps me chill from being so annoyed by him. So why would I want to see his stupid face the few times he's not around me? Don't know what I was thinking. I'll post a new pic of me w/out him. I wish I could remove him from my life as easily as I removed the pic. That would be so fuckin sweet. Tap the mouse three times. Poof! He's Gone. Clean, quiet house with no bitchin' and I can have anyone I want over and then make them leave when I've had enough. Perfect.
It's gotten to the point that there's not a single day we don't end up at each other's throat. I know I'm probably no peach to live with but it's really because of him. I swear. He's been an ass since the day we met. I should have known better from the way he treated his last gf. When we met at least he swung mad buds and had loot. Now he's just a working stiff and has, like, no money and his only redeeming quality is that he always has buds for me to smoke. But really they're my buds too. I risk my ass just as much as he does, so whatever. If I didn't have to pay for my frickin M-done, I'd be able to afford my own place right now. I'm gonna start looking for a roommate.

Fuck the War on Drugs - Legalize Heroin!!!

I wish so many times a day that I could go back in time, retaining the characteristics of the person I have become, yet able to do over the things I regret. Most of what I would do over would be the way I interacted with people over the years. If I knew then what I know now about human nature I could have saved myself so much trouble. I would never take back my drug use. Sure, it caused problems; I'm just not positive those problems were caused by simply abusing drugs or because people in this country are freaks when it comes to addicts. I don't think I deserved to be arrested. I wasn't doing anything wrong, just minding my own business, quietly getting well in my car, parked safely. I wouldn't have driven anywhere until I had stabilized (meaning stopped nodding out in an hour or so). I paid for my purchase fair and square. I really and truly don't think there is anything inherently wrong or bad about people who medicate themselves with derivatives of plants which obviously evolved to do what they do for a reason.

If you read a lot of the addiction blogs on here, many of the people who admit to full out addiction have had pretty painful lives. Whether psychological or physical, many were abused from a very early age. How can anyone believe they have the right to deny another the relief they seek? Do they think they're doing them a favor? Saving us from ourselves? Maybe if they listened to us, we could save the world from itself. If drugs weren't illegal, most of the issues which caused any of us to hit our "bottom", would never have occurred. If drugs weren't illegal, dealers wouldn't be able to charge exorbitant prices or demand any number of favors in return for product. If addicts could simply buy the drugs they needed at reasonable prices, most of us would go about our business just like everyone else, you'd hardly even know we were "high". I can't tell you how many people were shocked to learn that I was high on H for, like, years. They had no idea, they just thought I was tired or quiet and had heavy eyes I guess.

Eventually addicts find a dosage that works for them. It is retarded to say that every addict just does more and more until they die. Most of us don't actually want to die, we just want to be happy and calm. After some time, every addict will find a ball park dose that works and unless there is some kind of major and unsuspected variance in purity, it's difficult to OD. For a while, use will increase steadily, but eventually it gets to the point where you're not gonna get more high, you're just gonna die or fall asleep and you learn what amount does that for you. There's always the fluke but if drugs were legal, purity could be regulated, people would know what they were getting and OD would be practically unheard of.

Honestly, how do people walk around with blinders so securely fastened? How can the generally intelligent person believe all the Drug War propaganda? Isn't it obvious that it's all about money? There's so much money being made, no one wants to alter the system because then, God forbid, there may be a shift in power. It's really no different than the way we cleave to our gas guzzling autos when we know that for the preservation of the world we should stop. But we don't. Why? The money. The money made from oil, the money it would cost to change the current set-up.

I'm sure if anyone read these posts, they would be pissed. All the Anons, don't bother. Let's just agree to disagree. I'll never want to be and you'll never want to be me. My dream is not the American Dream. I do not want to have 2.5 kids and get married and live in the suburbs. I would feel like I was giving up life. And I'm sure you don't want to rage across the world seeking every pleasure imaginable, you'd feel selfish and glutinous, perhaps you may feel like you were also giving up life. So be it.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Addiction, Recovery, and Smoking in the Truck Yard

There's guys here who's job it is to drive around in a bobtail (the front part of a tractor-trailer) and pull trailers away from doors so drivers can pick them up, and they move trailers around the yard. There are generally two or three on a night. They are mostly back, forth and all around; but sometimes they find a little hidden nook and they park and sit there. Maybe they're napping, perhaps smoking the ganj, or jacking off, I don't know, don't really care. I just wish that tonight they would do what needs to be done up here and skeedadle on out of here. How's a girl supposed to get stoned around here with all these lurking employees?

I know that at least 90% of the people who work here get stoned. I mean I'm the "security" guard so I smell it wafting from guys' open car windows all night as they come and go. But I also know that there are plenty of people who will justify doing something themselves and then rat out someone else for doing the exact same thing. I admit that part of the draw is the amount of risk involved. For that short time, as long as it takes for me to rummage through my purse, find whatever I brought to smoke that night (sometimes a pipe and some bud, sometimes a blunt), and wait for the coast to clear before I sneak outside to stand in the shadow and smoke, I'm not thinking about time and the hours to go before I can leave this place to live the part of my life I wait all the rest of the time to live. For ten to twenty minutes, I am 100% in the moment.

I dropped another five mg last Wed. before my weekend, thinking that would give me a few days to adjust before coming back to work. Well it's taken a few days to register with my body and I just started to feel crappy last night. My eyes were constantly dripping and my nose was running. I rubbed my skin raw around my nostrils having to use the cheap, brown handpaper rolls to wipe my nose all night. I haven't bothered trying to wear eye makeup; I have to wipe the drip from my eye so often, it wouldn't last long at all. The only good thing about going down on the M-done is that I start to lose weight faster. I rarely have an appetite when lowering my dose and I begin to have more and more energy as I go down. I just hope I can get past the last five mg this time w/out using.

Part of my problem is that I am fed up paying fifteen dollars a day when my dose gets this low. By the end we're paying over three dollars a mg which is way more than the cost of any street drug I've ever bought, that's more than frickin' oxy's. It wouldn't be so annoying if the clinic we go to now wasn't so disorganized and unproductive. We are supposed to have a certain amount of counseling when on M-maintenence and although there are counselors employed there, they spend the majority of their time filling out paperwork, answering phones, and manning the reception room. There are no groups, like men and women groups or even the basic HIV or policy groups. I hardly even get piss tested and I've never had a treatment plan done in over a year at this clinic. If they actually had all the requisite services available I may not be so opposed to paying the fifteen no matter my mg dosage.

The best clinic I went to was my first one in Greenfield, Massachusetts. When we started there, southern Vermont didn't have its own clinic yet. Neither did, I beleive, Chesterfield, New Hampshire. Granted, Greenfield CSAC had been around for a while, so they had had time to work out kinks of the sort Keene Metro is dealing with today. But honestly, when you think about it, does it make sense to have to go to a special clinic to get methadone? If people can pick up a methadone prescription at the pharmacy for a pain diagnosis, why can't we pick one up as addicts, most pain patients are addicts anyway. Same with oxy's, vicoden, percocet, morphine - all over the pharmacist counter, but not methadone. I think this has to do partially with the fact that authorities in the fields of law enforcement, addiction treatment, and mental health have decided that addicts need to show how hard they are willing to work for sobriety. This method adheres to the belief that addicts are inherently weak, indulgent people who need to learn discipline and values. Perhaps one reason addiction is so rampant in our society is because the way we judge addicts and approach recovery is all wrong.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

Creepy Quiet Holiday at the Truck Yard

Thanks to new readers and followers for stopping by and commenting, it's always appreciated.

It must be because of the holiday weekend, but the truck yard is deserted tonight. There are no workers in the warehouse loading boxes because they worked during the day instead. Which means I had a few blessed hours alone, without Mike, before I had to go to sleep before work tonight (because Mikey works in the warehouse). I like working on nights like tonight because I don't have to do much of anything. There are hardly any interruptions in my blogging, reading, or watching old episodes of Friends on my laptop. But it is very creepy with no one else about besides the other guard down at the other end of the yard, and she is smaller than me. On quiet nights I know there are no managers and I can get away with smoking outside the shack without having to watch out with a paranoid eye.
Although our facility is notorious for employing felons and drug addicts, they frown upon doing drugs out in the open, at least nowadays. I guess back in the Good Ol' Days they used to smoke weed inside the warehouse while they worked, and do lines right off their jacks. Putney, Vermont, which is right up the road was featured in High Times back in the seventies, I heard. But recently I guess they even fired two guys to make an example out of them when they were caught smoking a jib outside the freezer, so I have to be careful. But I just can't go the whole night without smoking. I get nauseous a lot and smoking helps more than anything. Plus I like to smoke before I eat, and it also helps my eyes relax when I've been up too long and keeps me from getting headaches. I know that sounds ridiculous to a lot of people. I'm sure many would say that if I stopped smoking herb long enough, I would be able to eat, sleep, and relax just fine without it. Well, I don't care because it works right now. If it ain't broke, why fix it?
In fact, it's getting to be about that time. After one or two it'll probably start picking up as the drivers start to head out with loads for Monday. So I usually get my last smoke in around now and eat 'lunch', which I'm not sure can really be called lunch when it's eaten in the middle of the night.
And....I'm safe. I made it. Stoned, content for where I am, and ready to eat a crappy, microwaved lunch of macaroni and cheese and peas. I know it's not the healthiest, but it was the easiest to get together before work tonight since there was no food in the house besides pizza bagels which I had all last week. I'm really picky about what I eat, I know that. Mike gets really annoyed because I will never eat what is around and handy, I have to eat what I'm craving at that moment. And it's not generally simple things like mac & cheese and pizza bagels. It can be anything from beef stew to Spanikopita. So most days we stop at the grocery store on the way home from the clinic and we get whatever we want for that day. But then when we don't get to the store, there's nothing but a weird mix of vegetables and leftovers in various stages of decay. I know that it's a terribly inadequate system, I'm just bad at changing it. Every so often I decide we are going to go food shopping just once a week. So we go to the store and load up and all kinds of stuff, a few kinds of meat, eggs, milk, bread, juice, veggies, yogurt, applesauce, crackers, popsicles, rice milk for Mikey, cereal, all the basics and then a bunch more crap we don't need. And I keep telling Mikey not to worry that we're spending so much because it will last all week and we'll spend less than we do when we come every day. But then after about two days I begin to wonder what we actually bought that cost so much, where was all the food we got the other day?
See, it seems like when we have more food in the house, we eat more food. If we buy cookies, thinking we'll pack them for a snack at work, we end up eating them all because we usually don't have that and it's like we get crazed for the cookies. What is the point of this, I'm babbling, it's late and quiet, I'm stoned and because I'm eating I'm thinking about food. Besides the diet and weight loss fanatics out there, who the heck really cares what anyone eats or buys at the store? I mean, really?
I know it's not a good idea to blog about places of employment or fellow employees. But it's hard when so much time is spent at work. I suppose I really could get fired for writing that I smoked on the property, of course it's all a crazy made-up lie and everyone knows that so really there's nothing to worry about.
Honestly, it would suck to get fired from this job. I've only been fired once before in my life. It was a few years back when we were still using heavily, I got a winter job at the Putney Inn in Putney, Vermont. It was a crappy, part-time job but there's not a lot to choose from in a small town in the winter, so I took what I could get. I worked every summer then at Walker Farm and I always hated having to find a job to get me through the winter until they opened again for the season. So at this inn, I didn't have to be there most days until about two which was perfect because it gave me time to drive to the city and cop and make some money to go back the next day before work. And I only had to work four to six hour shifts most regular, non-holiday nights so I could make it through a whole shift w/out booting up. Generally they just had me greet people which is not what I applied for. I know I'm not a people person and I don't know why the owner wanted me to do that job because I made no pretense that I thought I would be right for it. I had applied to be a housekeeper. But she was like, 'No, you have such a friendly face and you're obviously intelligent. I want you to work in the restaurant'. So finally on New Year's Eve, I had to work really late clearing tables and crap and I admit I was wicked high. But I swear I was doing my job just fine. I've always been a hard worker. Like I said, it's the only job I've ever been fired from, and I've always done drugs, ever since my first job when I was, like, sixteen. But anyway, this manager woman who I suppose didn't like me, probably because of this girl Lisa who had introduced me to Chris Wayne who robbed me &mike of ten lbs of weed a year or so earlier also worked there (but that's a whole different story), anyway she told on me. rated me out to the owner. Who fired me.
She did sit me down one day and said we had to have a serious talk. I was nervous because I didn't know what it was about and when she asked if I smoked weed I started laughing, maybe because I was relieved but also because I never understood what upsets people about it so much. She was obviously taken aback and frustrated by my reaction. I said I wouldn't smoke weed before work anymore if it was that big of a deal. She said it was and asked if I was on anything else. Clearly I said no. I didn't smoke before work anymore, not right before work anyway. But I rarely smoked at all when I used dope, I was generally high enough most of the time and since I couldn't afford both, I chose the one I liked better. Of course I was still shooting up before work.
I really think I wouldn't have been fired if I hadn't known people I worked there with from the past. Lisa was one of the first people I did Oxy's with a long time ago and there was history there. And she had worked there before I did. I know they ratted me out because it generally takes a dope head to spot a dope head. I'm not talking living-on-the-street, junkie style addicts, but the working, functioning-well-enough addict. A lot of addicts I have known were really hard workers. The only thing that could come between them and their obligations for work or family was the need to avoid being sick. That's how I was. Really cool until I didn't have H. And then I'd drive a hundred and ten with no license, puking and shaking if I had to.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Oh My God, I am so annoyed. I just wrote a whole post and it turns out Panera kicked me off line a while ago but I couldn't tell. The page stayed up and it seemed like everything was cool until I tried to publish my post and it wouldn't. It wouldn't even save it. That sucks. I wish I could go out to the car and smoke a bowl and then get another drink and maybe I'd feel like sitting here writing a new post. But since I have no license and you never know when Big Brother is watching, I'm sort of reluctant. Plus it would mean having to lug all my shit outside so nobody makes off with my stuff. I just don't know. Everything annoys me so much lately.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

There's no Rat Race in Rat Park

"If you put a carton of eggs under a hydraulic press, it's true some of the eggs will crack before others, but the problem isn't the eggs. It's the press."
-Bruce Alexander

I'm sure many readers have heard of Bruce Alexander, retired research psychologist at Simon Fraser University in British Columbia turned addiction activist, and his study entitled 'Rat Park'. I first learned of this ultra-thought provoking study a few months back in the January 09' issue of O magazine. I've been considering the implications ever since and I think some readers may find it interesting, if they were not already aware.

Basically, this guy wanted to know whether drug addiction was biological or caused mainly by environment. Ahh, the biggest question, it's almost as bad as the chicken and the egg. Now before I go on, I want to state that I really do believe that there are biological factors which can lead to addiction (I mean, really, me, my brother, sister, mother, and multiple cousins are addicts in one way or another). But there is no doubt that environment plays a significant role, and I believe Alexander provides substantial evidence of such.

My understanding of the study is as follows: Alexander built two places for his rats to reside; one was designed using the typically dull and isolating cages of most labs rats as a model, whereas the other was a 200 sq. ft. rat paradise called Rat Park. In both models the rats had a choice of plain drinking water or water laced with sugar and morphine. Unsurprisingly, the rats living in the uncomfortable and confined quarters became instant addicts as past studies had confirmed. But in Rat Park, the majority of rats consistently opted for the plain water. Mind you, life was grand for these lucky little rats; and misery for their poor confined, dispirited counterparts. Most interesting is that many rats who entered Rat Park already addicted also tended to cut down and opt for plain water.

It is hard to deny that such findings suggest that addiction is at least partially affected by environmental factors. Alexander does not presume to claim that there are no biological factors which play a role in addiction. Hence the 'egg and and the press' quote; he simply believes that if our society did not put so much pressure and limitations on its members, it is likely the percentage of addicts would be considerably lower. It is important to note that this concept applies not only to drug addiction but to various other addictions as well. This could include alcohol, nicotine, gambling, work, shopping, Internet, sex, food, sugar, even video games. Alexander might argue that any activity a person turns to obsessively to seek relief from an uncomfortable environment by producing a surge in the the endorphin dopamine is an addiction caused by environment. Alexander says, "It is so much easier to believe that the drug takes people away than that the very civilization we live in is making life miserable for everybody". And I thinks that statement is true to a large extent. It is easier to blame the "evil drug" rather than examine ourselves as a society, which, of course, would be monumental and excruciating.

I think it's safe to say that Alexander may be on to something. Ideally, all animals, including humans are free to play, fight, mate, and forage. But in today's society, it must be acknowledged, that there is a much stronger emphasis on activities like work over play. We are the equivalent of caged rats; there is a reason it's called 'The Rat Race'. Humans living in distress seek relief. Sure, some of us have a lower threshold for what we are willing to tolerate as far as levels of discomfort, and that is where biology plays its role. But if we were more concerned with treating the disease (negative living conditions), rather than the symptoms (drug addiction), we may have a chance of coming anywhere close to a "cure". Once again, Alexander says it best: "There is no drug policy that will have much effect on addiction. I think that's one of our diversions: 'If we could just get the drug policy right, we'd solve our addiction problem.' I don't think that would touch it. The only way we'll ever touch the problem of addiction is by developing and fostering a viable culture."
Anyway, I'm not trying to write a research paper here, just an interesting point of view worth checking out.

Methadone Worries

When I first started this blog, my intention was to write a lot about the methadone program and particularly its shortcomings in an effort to spread awareness. But I sort of became sidetracked with getting to know what blogging was all about. But as I've spent more and more time on here, I'm getting to know what's out there and how stuff works. I'm hoping that with time I will find my niche and what works and what doesn't will come easily. I intend to write more about my difficulty getting off M-done. I'm still at 30mg but I plan to go down next Wednesday, my last day of my work week, and I'm wary because I didn't have a great success the first time. I promise I'll keep posting about how awful I feel and how miserable it is to be an addict in a time when fellow man feels obligated to dictate what I put in my body, and therefore makes me feel pressured to adhere to social norms even if I would rather not. It's hard to say what's worse sometimes. Being sick when you can find or afford your fix. Or pretending that the world's okay without it at all.

PS to all the people that commented early on, I'm sorry I didn't always leave a reply, I wasn't sure how you were supposed to answer people. I thought maybe it's best to use the comment box, or maybe I should just address them in next post. I didn't know what the deal was. So I promise it was not that I was not interested in feedback. On the contrary. So please leave comments, I promise I'll reply now that I know that's the forum in which to do so.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009


Thirteen Little Burps of Bitching Because My Mind is Good for Nothing Else:

1. Tired, Tired, Tired. Got tricked into working a shift for a co-worker - agreed to it - so stupid! Eight days straight - Need a day off!!

2. So mad at Mikey. He's a....I don't know what he is but when I think of how to describe it I notice I am gnashing my teeth, curling my lip, and growling barely audibly thinking about what I wish I could do to him right now. And they are NOT nice things.

3. Left side of head, above my eye slightly, basically right on my temple is swollen and hurts because above mentioned ASSHOLE thought a normal response to me not wanting to go to a loan appointment, that he made without asking me, was to sucker punch me in the side of the head.

4. You DO NOT punch people when they are not looking at you. Ex. Don't punch someone in the back of the head. If you do, you have no right to feel vindicated because you are a pussy that fights like a bitch.

5. If you are a man or even posing as a man or a very large, mean woman - you are not cool if you hit women. Unless you are totally getting your ass beat and then a little defensive flailing may be acceptable.

6. Boys, if your girl breaks up w/you, and you want to come off as nonchalant, then you need to stay cool, calm, collected. Think 'whatever'. Not, 'Well, fuck you, get out of MY house and give me back my shirt, bitch!'. Everyone knows when you act like that it's because inside you feel sad and ditched and you're scared to be alone. Take it like a man.

7. Settling for anything in life is basically the same as giving up. Is it not worth it or do you feel like you're not worth it? Okay, I realize that doesn't make sense to anyone but me; but not to worry since I am basically the number one reader of my own blog. It's all about me, don't you know?

8. I am writing like this as a list because my brain is frazzled. Have had no sleep. Sat outside in the field by house today for, like, three hours because I knew if I went inside I would massacre Mikey and destroy things of my own in my wrathful smackdown.

9. I haven't lost it like I lost it today in years. But I also haven't been sucker punched in years either. I don't know what the fuck he was thinking. He knows me well enough to know enough to be scared.

10. I may have busted his nose. But only as retaliation. Doh.

11. I am so sick of Mikey's whiny, complaining, never-take-responsibilty for anything, sweaty, pale, lazy, pathetic ass. It's so fucked up that so many people (myself) get stuck in places they don't want to be because even though they (I) work more than full-time we don't make enough money to live alone. It makes me consider prostitution. Oh, wouldn't that be the same thing?

Okay, I had two more points here but I had to come back and edit them because they were a little too mean. So I will reluctantly and awkwardly end here because, well, just because.

Monday, May 18, 2009

TheDailyDosing Loves, Loves, Loves Damian Marley

Computers are Tricky

My head feels like it's just a frazzle of little squiggles buzzing from side to side wicked fast from trying to make some sense of all the ways to play with this blog stuff. I was wary of technology for so long that I'm pretty behind as far as the web movement. But I'm ready to catch up. It's just becoming clear that I will need to take a class. I know I could figure it all out if I had enough time and patience. I have plenty of time, not so much patience.
I just wish I understood what all this shit was and how it worked.

I love Damian Marley. He is almost as hot as his father and every bit as talented. A lot of the time I would rather listen to Damian than Bob. Damian is, like, thirty-one, so he writes about issues that are relevant to me. Of course Bob's music deals with classic themes of love, religion, and politics so is therfore always current to a large extent. But when I hear this song it hits me as highly personal, direct, and honest. Although coke was never really my favored narcotic, I wouldn't turn it down. And because I was never able to maintain a good standard of living while using as much as I ended up using, I ended up experiencing the same crumbling of the walls around me after many years of using and loving it. I wish I could use now, I just can't afford it. Anyway, check out Damian Marley. And here are the lyrics to one of my favorite of his dads' remixes which he does with his brother.


[Black Thought] and yes y'all youre all rocking with the best Black Thought from the ledgendary Roots crew in the flesh i slid up in here with the brothers from the Marley family crest and we gonna sing for yall

[Stephen Marley]
She loves to Party, have a good time
She looks so hearty, feeling fine
She loves to smoke, sometimes shifting coke
she's laughing when there ain't no joke

[Damian marley]
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was now
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was now
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was

Cause coke was a thing that once she first try
Was once a blue moon to once a blue sky
Now she's wondering who else wants to go buy
she don't got no money and wants to get high
story sounds familiar,
Like born to be wild but she sillier
not quite the same, but she simliar
a waste of my sarsaparilla
used to look good in the videos
now she look hideous

now it's broken crack pipes with lipstick traces
walks the cold nights--red district places
she seen more hotels than my tour suitcases
more male customers than old navy's
she love lime light more than John Swaby's
seen more miles than I rent at avis
She don't slow down then someday maybe
she lost and she can't find her way to safety

Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was now
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was now
Pimpa's paradise! that's all she was

(Black thought Verse)
Check it out- She keep her head up into space like a satellite,
Because she got an insatiable appetite,
For stayin out late nights,With all the parasites,
Plottin on the way to cop a little peice of paradise,
Her dignity the only thing that she could sacrifice,
Just get the monkey off her back
And she'll be back in like five minutes
she stay on the move, she looked smoked up,
the stone that the buildin refused
all coked up alone she ain't even in tune
and it's sad cause she ain't really have a reason to use
she was a pretty girl cleaner than the board of health
studied and enjoyed herself
i don't know what drove her to avoid herself
destroyed herself and took a taste of the yay
and now she on the track while she wastin away
it's safe to say she lookin for some place to stay
whoever got a lil paper to play could get a slice of dis...

[Damian Marley]
for no reason a seasoned spliff was the first thing
one spring season while she's out flirtin
now she season me and don't need rehearsin
her skin get a beatin life is uncertained
ego need feedin now the wants worsen
beneath the demons she's a warm person
when she's not fiendin, swearin and cursin
behind the curtain she's really hurtin
and while her people don't even trust her at home
the dealer dem grin and cook the rocks down
and she without sin will spark the first stone
the feelin kicks in she's in the dark zone
old friends walk pass goin bout their own
as if she is someone that they don't know
then the king of kings lift her off the flo
saying life is a ting when you learn you grow
[Damian & Stephen]
she rise and she fall like a star
her life write off like a car
her face full of all kind of scar
always with quick fi start a war
she can't keep herself up to par
she plays like a broken guitar
she always want take it too far
I doubt she gwan make it too far
she rise and she fall like a star
her life ride out like a car
her face full of all kind of scar
always quick fi start a war
she can't keep herself up to par
she plays like a broken guitar
she always wanna take it to far
mi wonder how she make it so far, wuoy


Sunday, May 17, 2009

Must See Mucha

Ever since I was a little girl and had a cast-off Mucha poster from my twenty-something year old uncle. The pictures held a certain mystery and romance for me, I thought they were so beautiful. Even when he uses delicate and creamy colors there is something sensual about his women. They all seem so sure of themselves, so comfortable in their own skin. The images are drenched in my eyes with decadence and luxury. In my most perfect life I would be one of these women because you know they always get what they want. What's crazy is that a lot of people believe that Apphonse Mucha is not a true artist because his images were used mainly in advertisements. I think that's a crock, if it is appealing and was created through the human imagination, it is art. Everyone should rest their eyes on a Mucha before they die.

Saturday, May 16, 2009


Has anyone ever read 'Alexander and The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day'? You know some days are even like that in Australia? It was a favorite book of mine when I was a kid. Everything that could go wrong for a kid does. Breakfast sucks because his brothers eat all the good cereal, he has to carpool to school in an overcrowded station wagon, after school when his mother takes all the kids to get new shoes they have nothing cool in his size, and then his dad is an ass to him when they visit him at work later on. Of course it's not quite on par with wondering if you will have any breakfast at all, or wondering what it's like to ever own a new pair of shoes; but it's just as bad as all that for Alexander because that's his reality.

Well, today I feel like Alexander. And although my problems pale in comparison to the problems of the universe, they are still my problems and they suck for me. And so why then would I be so bold as to expect anyone else to care about them? Well, care or not people, it does not really matter that much because what it comes down to is that there seems to be something therapeutic about verbally purging your frustrations.

I only have Internet access at work, so far all my posts have been written from my work computer while I'm on the clock. That is great for me because I get paid to dick around on the computer; the downside is that my posts take on a certain tone because I'm at work. They lack a certain sense of vitality and depth because I'm in work mode. I was at home the other night and it was late and I was alone sitting in the kitchen with just the stove light on wishing I could write a post at that moment surrounded by such a melancholy atmosphere (I know I could have written it on a Word program and saved it to post later. But it's just not the same). When I'm at work I don't feel as if I am fully myself. I feel sterile and protective of the best parts of myself in this linoleum swathed shack. I'm also wary of simulating the typical sob story blog, I don't want to be the whiny victim of my own bad choices. I don't want to repeat the same story of how I shot myself in the foot and then cried as it bled, metaphorically speaking of course. But at the same time I feel like it's just as bad to be too cautious which can translate into boring. I've been avoiding revealing too much about family members, co-workers and work situations, and the less acceptable of the daily activities in which I partake (i.e. everything to do with buds) because I don't want to start conflict or get myself in trouble. But I'm not sure anyone in my family reads my blog, nor do I believe the government cares too much about me; work is a little bit more sensitive because I can't get fired unless I'll qualify for unemployment. But my point, I suppose, is that I am going to make an effort to expand my repertoire. I think a good way to start is by writing posts from different locations, attempting to add richness to my posts by infusing them with the vibe of aspects of my life previously withheld.
One thing I've noticed is that I hardly ever write about my relationship with Mike. I mention him often in passing a few times. It's easiest to just pretend that it's fine. We get along really well on a day to day basis. We have a lot of things in common, we share the most basic of values and beliefs about life. Not a day goes by without him talking about us buying a house, opening a store, having kids, marriage. We are best friends for sure, and that makes it that much more painful to admit that we are just not physically and sexually compatible. It's so bad, I just can't ignore it any longer. I totally love Mike as much as you can love another who is not your child. But I'm terrified of of the possibility of living the rest of my life without experiencing the physical intensity that I know can exist between two people. It's not like Mike's my first love, or even my first fuck. I've loved others just as much, and I've definitely had a better sex life in the past. And it's time to acknowledge that it may just be one of those things that is what it is. We just may not be meant for each other in this capacity. But, HA!, Try to discuss this with Mike and it's as if I'm asking him if he wants to go out and deliberately infect ourselves with HIV. He flips! He's like, "If you break up with me I don't ever want to speak to you again. So get out then. Leave right now!!! AAAHHHH!!" It's impossible to discuss it with him. It doesn't matter when I bring it up, morning, noon, or night, it's a bad time. It's always, "Why do you have to bring this up, NOW!". I'm beginning to think it's pointless to try to part amicably. But that sucks because we are so broke that we are, neither one of us, in the position to support ourselves right now. We'd be so much better off, both of us, if we could be logical and help each other leave safely. After planning and saving, I mean, we have eight dogs. Who gets who? But to get him to plan to break up does not seem like an option. I think I'm going to have to start hiding money away so I can get my own place. I just can't live like this anymore.
In my mind, if I'm this frustrated and unhappy then he must be too. How could he be content? It just doesn't seem possible to be existing in the same reality and yet be so polarized in regards to our perceptions. Does he truly want to live out the rest of his life with a woman he finds physically unapealling just becayse she's otherwise a good friend? I may be funny and easy-going, I may be a mellow pot head who is up for most anything, but is that a worthy trade off for never having decent sex ever again??? Not for me!!
There is this perception out there that men think about sex all the time, way more than women. Maybe I'm not your average woman or something, but I think about sex all the time too. I don't think once, ever, in our relationship have I turned him down for anything he's requested in the sexual realm, but he's like Mr. No. I know I'm not ugly, and even if I were, fuck that, ugly people still need to get busy. I admit I gained a bunch of weight when I got clean. But I was not even a hundred pounds when I stopped using and now I'm about 140. Which, for my height, is not the most alluring, but it's not Miss Piggy either. According to I should weigh about 117, so I'm only about 23lbs overweight. It could be way worse. And I'm totally aware of it and trying to learn how to get back to normal. I've never been overweight before in my whole life so I'm not used to having to watch what I eat and exercise religiously. But in the meantime, I take care of my hygiene, I wash my hair, shave my legs, tan (not too much), wear nice clothes when I'm not at work. You'd think I was Ugly Betty, oh wait, she gets more play than I do.
And the thing is, Mike is no Josh Hartnett. He doesn't take care of his dreads, his teeth are all fucked up, he is missing his left chest plate so he's all lopsided, he has no muscle tone and a pot belly. But I see past all that, I don't care, nobody is perfect. But if you asked him, he's a hunky hunk. He loves to harp about how he runs around lifting boxes all night at work and I just sit around and do nothing. I would automatically assume it was all because of my weight. Except it really wasn't much better before. But then it didn't matter to me so much because I was too high to care. And I was physically satiated by the dope. Sadly, that is no longer and I am forced to rely on more socially acceptable methods of obtaining a surge of endorphins.
Needless to say, my patience is wearing thin. The resentment building inside me is going to consume me and I don't want to give myself cancer over a bitterness I could have avoided. I've thought about just simply pursuing extracurricular bedroom type activities, but I'm afraid the guilt would overwhelm me. Plus eventually I would want to leave him once I found someone who could fulfill all my needs, and I'm not sure that's fair. I wish all the time that he would just meet someone else so that I could feel guilt free about blasting. But for real, how many chances do you give a person to change, to try, to care? It doesn't make much sense to avoid hurting another at the expense of myself. I mostly do not want to one day look back and regret not taking a chance for my own happiness.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Gushy Gardening Goo

Well, well, well....It is finally spring. We recently moved again, as some may know. And although the decision was made quickly regarding our new residence, I think there are more good things about it than bad. Perhaps we could have benefited had we the patience to hold out for a place with no neighbors. Principally because of the dogs but also our interest in gardening.
There was one small plot in our new yard which had been set aside for a garden. I thought we had asked the landlord about it already and made it clear we would like to use it, but now our neighbors are using it and they don't even want to share. Well, ha ha to them, because I'm going to plant a better garden on my deck in buckets. I don't care if that sentiment proves how immature I am. I've already started a bunch of different Morning Glory seeds in pots so we can have them climb up the railing, I've got the classic periwinkle blue, a deep, dark, velvety purple, and a fuscia. But it doesn't end there; oh, no, we even have the white Moon Flower type that bloom in the moonlight. When I have my own house (some day in a time far, far away when my credit doesn't suck and I have a down payment to speak of) I am going to have a Moon Garden, all planted with white flowering, or silver-leaved plants so that it glows in the moonlight. I've seen pictures of them and they're so beautiful. But back to my current little porch garden. Hopefully my Sweet Peas will take and they can intertwine with the Morning Glory as they climb the railing.
We have some peppers and herbs already and a blue glazed pot full of salad greens almost ready to eat. The most expensive thing about this garden plan so far is the pots to put everything in, nice pots are not cheap. And you need quite large pots for veggies like tomatoes, peppers, and eggplant. I have also stashed away some summer bulbs, like my favorite Gladiolas, Lily of the Valley, and Freesia. Those can be planted at the base of the deck if I turn up a little bit of the grass. It's a bit late but they'll still be ready around August for cutting for bouquets. There's nothing like a huge, thick, bunch of multi-colored neon Gladiolas towering over a plain glass vase in the summer. And of course I have packets of Zinnias because not many annuals can beat them for hardiness, ease, and color for a quick cut flower. And they are so bright and cheery.
And that is just the beginning, we haven't even gone shopping for the bulk of our veggies yet. I used to work at a place called Walker Farm in Dummerston, Vermont. It's an organic, family-owned fruit, flower, and veggie farm and that's where I want to buy most of our plants. When I worked there we were allowed to take piles of discarded plants out of the 'to be composted' pile. If they were yellowing or overgrown, they weren't up to par for sale so they were composted. It was all you could want of lettuce, tomatoes, and pansies. Back to my enchanted, prize-worthy, porch garden.
I've been collecting rocks and crystals and shells since I can remember, as has Mike. I once met these girls in Evergreen, Washington who had so many crystals in their house that they lined the walls in small piles. It resembled a cave of buried treasure, all sparkling and multi-toned gems. Apparently one of the girls was an aspiring geologist and had been collecting rocks on a colossal scale since kindergarten. Ever since then I have wanted piles of crystals for myself. And although I have nowhere close to what they had, my collection isn't too shabby. And so I've lined them all along the edge of the railing out on the deck so they can shine in the sun, well, I mostly put the non-precious, colorless ones outside. But it's still really pretty with a bunch of shells and huge chunks of gray rock dotted with quartz chunks. Crystals get bleached of their color by the sun if they sit exposed for too long.
I keep trying to persuade Mike to let me get a little table and a bench or something so we can sit and read out there, or even eat meals looking out over the 30 acre field below us. We may even be able to forget that the railing is about to fall over and the floor of the deck is made of three uneven slabs of concrete. I'll take pictures of my garden project development, that way the whole small, small world of interested bloggers can witness my dream rise to fruition.

13 1/2 Little Thoughts

Everyday I'm all, "Oh, twelve fucking hours, how will I make it?" And now here it is and I'm saying, "Damn, four a.m., swee -eet, only three more hours and I haven't even cracked into the blogosphere".

Sometimes I just can't think of what to write because there are so many images and sentences swirling around in my head that to take just one feels false. So I'm gonna try something a little different.

1. NPR had a show the other day about unemployment blogging. One opinion is that bloggers are selfish, narcissistic, cry-babies. What do you think?

2.Why the hell is society set up in a way that forces us to have to work so fucking much. In our lives, do we spend more time working or sleeping? We sure don't spend the majority of our hours on earth having fun and chilling.

3. I hate police. Sorry if you're a cop, I hate you too. Were you picked on as a child? Yeah, me too and I didn't feel the need to prove myself by joining the biggest gang in the country to get paid to bully people. I know all cops aren't corrupt, but all of them are at least guilty by association.

4. Spring is nice. I like Lilacs and grass.

5. Why do so many men think they should get away w/out paying child support. It annoys me so much that women are held more accountable for children simply because we give birth. We couldn't do that without sperm, so responsibility is 50/50, right?

6. We hear all the time that it's not healthy to sunbathe, it could cause cancer. But are we totally sure that self-tanners aren't going to be found to cause cancer, you know, due to the chemicals which sink into our skin to cause our skin to change color? I mean, too much of anything could not be good.

7. Are there any cases involving search warrants issued due to blog content? Like if you post a pic of a needle in your arm with you sitting outside your house, can they use that to obtain a warrant?

8. Why do they teach such useless crap in school? Why don't they offer classes on topics relevant to everyday life, like tax prep class, home economics type stuff? Instead they spend hours focusing on just the convenient parts of modern history, the bits and pieces which make this country appear fair and progressive.

9. I only mention the next because it consumes so much of my brain power everyday. What is the point of dragging out this pointless, no-win, War on Drugs? They will never succeed in eradicating drugs, just accept it. Especially WEED!!!!

10. How can it be possible that a young, sane looking individual would truly believe that "Your Health Is Your Problem"? Is it simply a matter of not wanting to chip in for the benefit of another, don't want to give away any more tax dollars for those w/out insurance to have access to medical care? I bet the folks who believe such a thought have always been fortunate enough to have health care. I bet they have never been denied insurance due to a pre-existing disorder. I bet they have never made too much money to qualify for state medicaid, yet not been offered employer benefits. Do these folks think that if you break your leg and can't afford to fix it you should just walk around on the broken leg?

11. Annual dog licensing is bullshit!

12. I think it's kind of irresponsible for Brad & Angelina to adopt all those kids and try to raise them all themselves and with nannies. Those kids are going to have mad emotional baggage as adults, though I don't doubt they will never want for anything. Maybe they could pay for families who can't afford adoption to have an adopted child. That way, these kids will have more normal lives and get the attention they need.

13. And last but not least: Why would they have us work 12 hour shifts and tell us we can't leave our post, but then have no bathroom to go to without leaving our post? Therefore I am left no choice but to abandon my post several times a night. Doing so, however, leaves the "Guard" shack unattended when tractors show up. When it gets busy around 4:30 a.m. good luck making it to the bathroom, so I just peed in my coffee cup (I know that is gross, but haven't you ever been in that position. A la soda can in the car? Boys don't count, you have it so easy). I had to pee so bad I was worried I'd overflow the mug and leak onto the floor, all was good. Put the cup in a trash bag to be disinfected at home where Mikey will probably make me throw the cup away, a little Windex, and everything is good as new.

13 1/2. My Mom wears Bulgari perfume and she gave me some for x-mas. I hate to wear it because it makes me feel like my mom because I associate the smell with her. But I ran out of cheap perfume to spray in my shack at work. I have to spray something because the guy who works before me smells BAD!!! Anyway, I sprayed Bulgari past few times at work and all the drivers are commenting appreciatively on the smell. Makes me want to appreciate it more but it's my mommy smell. So it will always by homey not seductive for me.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Luck or Fate?

What is the deciding factor when it comes down to which girl will be attacked or raped or murdered, or which one will get HIV or Hep C? It could be fated, or maybe it's just luck. I started thinking about all this last night when for some reason I felt compelled to research the disappearance of two women from my town. And one thing led to another and before I knew it a small obsession had developed and I spent all night creepily scrolling through faces and stories of the disappeared women from the northeast.
One that has kind of consumed me is the case of a girl named Maura Murray. She's obviously dead since she's been gone since 2004, but it's just weird when nobody has any idea what happened to her. I think that's one of the worst things that can happen to a parent; not just to have your child disappear, but to have no clue what happened, no closure. At least if you know they're dead you can imagine that they may be happy, but if not then you must just have all these images swirling around in your head of them in pain and suffering. Maybe it bothers me so much because I can see a lot of myself in this Maura girl. I can see myself getting pissed off at life or whatever and blasting off alone to some remote place with no plans and a shitty car. I can see getting all fucked up and not caring about what I was doing and walking around at night or something thinking I'm invincible.
I've always kind of told myself, "Well, people don't fuck with me because I give off this vibe of, like, fuck with me and you'll regret it," kind of thing. But how do I know that these girls who are dead didn't do the same thing. I mean you always hear people say that carrying a weapon is not always a good thing, they say, "Watch out, if you carry that, you'll end up having it used on you." 'Live by the gun, die by the gun'. But you never read any stories that report 'Girl Murdered with Her Own Gun'. Is that because the type of girls who carry knives and guns are rare, or simply that we are scum and not worth reporting on? And I've personally only begun carrying weapons in the last few years, and all the really risky shit I did before that, so I can't just say it must be the mace around my neck which keeps the weirdos away.
I guess what bothers me about this girl's disappearance is that she seemed so capable. She was smart, she looked strong, she was from a military family and had gone to military school (so shouldn't she have had some defense training?). It also seems like a really fishy story, there are all these things that kind of make you wonder. Like I don't think she actually disappeared from where they said she did. She supposedly got into a car crash on Rt. 112 in New Hampshire but there are all these discrepancies and no one who witnessed the accident ever actually got close enough to confirm that the girl at the crash was her. Okay, I admit I am prone to believe conspiracy theories from all realms, but if you read all the stories you'll see what I mean. Also, a few years back some guy came forward saying that he thought his brother may have been involved in her disappearance and he produced a knife he claimed was connected, and then you hear nothing else about it. I couldn't find anything about the case from recent years, other than pieces about the family and how the Dad still searches that area for what happened. It's just so creepy.
I used to hitch hike all the time. I used to go all over from Burlington, Vermont to Boston, Mass. hitching rides. Most times though, I had my little dog with me. He's not that little any more and he always looked like a little pit bull, and I'd always have him sit between me and the driver. Most of the time it was cool, and nothing awful ever happened. There were some people who were more odd than others. But why was I so lucky, you hardly ever see little girls hitching rides these days; so I put myself in dangerous situations and was fine and some people just aren't. One guy drove me around in circles for hours, I guess I'm an idiot because I didn't start to get nervous for a really long time. And to this day I think he had planned on something fucked up but changed his mind. I don't know why, just a feeling I got that day. Was it because of my dog, or was it just because I was nice and didn't flip out. I was definitely relieved to get out of the car, even though he dropped me off barely five miles from where he picked me up.
I can just recall all of these situations when I could have encountered a terrible fate, but I was so lucky. I drove back from Montana one summer alone with just my dog, Seneca, in this 1981 baby blue Cutlass with the whole from grill gone. I used a whole case of oil to get back to Ipswich because I was in love with this stupid boy. I slept at rest areas and kept seeing the same girl every night who had a sign in her window, 'Pregnant. Need money to get home. Will trade massage therapy.' I never talked to her, though I'd pass her at least once everyday. I rode a bus to Utah alone when I was seventeen and I had a twelve-hour layover in Denver. I was sleeping on my huge metal-framed backpack and I woke up and this older woman was leaning over me and squeaking at her husband, "Is it a boy or a girl?" I must have had a hood over my head and I was all curled up, but I still think it should have been obvious I was a girl. I've had cops tell me time and time again, "You know they shoot people around here when they look like you", whatever the hell that's supposed to mean. And I've gotten in plenty of fights over drugs and had people threaten me but I never really believed them. Maybe that's the key, the power of positive thinking. You have to tell yourself, "Yeah right, like this joker's gonna do anything". If you get all freaked out you are just setting yourself up for failure. Perhaps murder is like self-esteem, you have to envision yourself the way you want to be: Alive. Sorry if that sounds harsh, I'm obviously joking. But at the same time I suppose I do think there is some credibility in the strength of positive thought.

VV is the shit

VV is the shit
We all have to love VV