I've started to write this post maybe five times. Apparently I have nothing worth saying.

Still here. Still alive, still sick.....appreciating silence more than usual.

Ain't Born Typical

Note: The Kills are awesome. Check em out.

My favorite these days -

I'm bored of cheap and cheerful

I want expensive sadness

Hospital bills, parole

Open doors to madness

I want you to be crazy cos you're boring baby

when you're straight

I want you to be crazy cos you're stupid baby

when you're sane

I'm sick of social graces

Show your shark-tipped teeth

Lose your cool in public

Dig that illegal meat

Cos love is just a dialogue

You can't survive on ice cream

You got the same needs as a dog

It's alright to be mean

It's all right to be mean

Damn, I am so faded tonight. My eyes are throbbing. Didn't sleep a wink today. I was so hungry all day. The food in these parts is so shitty. Having grown up in or right outside of cities I'm used to having access to great food. Hicks up here think mozzarella only comes shredded in plastic bags, salads are strictly iceberg, bread white and goopy, and despite being in the midst of the biggest maple syrup producing states, they love the fake shit. So without the crushing desire for pastries, ice cream, and chocolate that I was so lucky to have for the early m-done years, the thought of most food makes me sick. But if I don't eat I'm the biggest bitch. And so it was, is, today. I got some soup on the way to work and ate half of it and some fried dumplings from the chinese place but that's not really sufficient for the whole night.

Sometimes when I'm on low ass doses of the done and then if it's a bad day, I do shit most people would probably consider just lame. Like, today, Mikey was just on my nerves so much. He just bitches about everything. It's like no matter what, if fuckin gold coins fell from the sky he'd bitch about the bruises on his head. And he was full throttle today, and I was in no mood for his shit. He waited all morning to go pick up some m-done pills and then when he got home he was all, "I'm so hungry but I had no money or I would have got food when I was out". Well he did have money but he didn't want to use it, so finally I got him to go into town and get a hamburger for us to share. He was gone FOREVER and brings home some soggy ass shit, all cold and slimy and mushy fries. I was so irrationally starving and sweating, I wanted to rip his throat out. Long story short, soggy or not I really did want that half a burger but my psycho side just couldn't find a place to rest today and I ended up stomping the shit out of that burger rather than eating it and I left it on the floor and the dogs ate it. How fucked is that? Eh? I know I can be an asshole, but it's generally a long time coming. I didn't eat anything when I was always high, but trying to sleep on, like, no done with my stomach all aching, man I just couldn't rest.
I feel so guilty wanting to break up w/Mikey. I know I have to, I'd be doing both of us a disservice not to. I love him, he's my best friend, and I hope we can be friends one day, but I'm just not as happy as I know I could be. I can't even kill a gnat flying around my head without feeling a wrench in my heart. And I know it must hurt him somehow when I try to talk about going our own ways. Maybe he thinks this is what he wants, but I know he would be happier too. I think he's so attached to the idea that he needs me to buy a house and and just to live, but he doesn't. He's totally capable and I think he would figure that out soon enough, to his benefit. But I'm beginning to realize that he's not going to make it easy. I'm going to come out looking like a bitch or a slut. See, we work at the same place, in totally different areas, but we see all the same people. And I'm one of, like, maybe five women on at night. Only two of us are under fifty, and of the two of us I'm the only one who's not gay. So that leaves a lot of hot, twenty to thirty-something guys coming and going by my hut all night long. It's kind of inevitable that we all talk here and there. And it's likely that if people know we broke up, I may hang out more with people from work. And I can see that causing problems. And in situations like that the woman always comes out the guilty party. Bullshit I say.
I know why it is that way. I'm aware of the whole whore/virgin stand off. I just don't want to play by those stupid rules - which makes me think of Tom Robbins. I'm currently re-reading Jitterbug Perfume and that man has some super insight into the human condition. For instance:

but here was a believer who refused to grovel, a man who stood up to Shiva, to Buddha, to the gods of his own race, whoever they might be, who stood up to them and demanded an accounting for a system in which pleasure must be paid for with pain, a system in which the only triumph over suffering was a hard won oblivion

I just don't think that we should have to feel guilty for pursuing that which makes us pleased and satisfied. The pursuit of pleasure and happiness should be considered a legitimate path.

Live by the shit, die by the Same......

HEROIN



I don't know just where I'm going

But I'm going to try for the kingdom if I can

Cause it makes me feel like a man

When I put a spike into my vein

Then I tell you things aren't quite the same



When I'm rushing on my run

And I feel just like jesus' son

And I guess I just don't know



I have made a big decision

I'm going to nullify my life

Cause when the blood begins to flow

When it shoots up the droppers neck

When I'm closing in on death



You can't help me not you guys

All you sweet girls with all you sweet talk

You can all go take a walk

And I guess I just don't know



I wish I was born a thousand years ago

I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas

On a great clipper ship

Going from this land to that

I put on a sailors suit and cap



Away from the big city

Where a man cannot be free

Of all the evils of this town

And of himself and those around

Oh, and I guess i just don't know



Heroin, be the death of me

Heroin, it is my wife and it's my life

Because a mainer to my vein

Leads to a center in my head

And I'm better off than dead



When the smack begins to flow

Then I really don't care anymore

About all the jim jims in this town

And everybody putting everybody else down

And all of the politicians makin crazy sounds

And all the dead bodies piled up in mounds, yeah



Wow, that heroin is in my blood

And the blood is in my head

Yeah, the gods good as dead

Oooh, the gods good as dead

I just don't care

And I guess I just don't know



-Lou Reed



I totally can relate to a lot of what he's putting out there. I know how he feels when he says it makes him feel like a man. There is something about being high on H which solidifies so many things within me that are so fragile and breakable without it. I can handle almost anything when I'm high. I always tell doctors and whatwho that I feel like I'm normal when I'm high and just like a mess without it. I wish my head could be like that all on its own without chemical help, but I just don't know if that's possible.
"When I'm rushing on my run.......I feel like jesus' son" I know just what he means. You're so focused on the outcome, it seems so important, like there's nothing else worth worrying about. For me, I feel as addicted to copping as using. When you stop using, it's like what do you do with all the time. How do you replace the need for a rush? It's easy if you have unlimited time and money - but I don't. The daily grind is no replacement. I know people are always wondering why I don't want to recall why I quit in the first place. But to that the answer is, it was not my choice. That honor belonged to the State of Massachusetts. They threw a monkey wrench into my routine. Bush was still president and there was some sort of influx of money to the war on drugs, and my spot was swarming with cops. They knew who I copped from, there's cameras all over the place. It got to where I could rarely, if ever, drive to the block w/out cops stopping me. And not, like, normally either. They would come from nowhere and screech right up to my door, sometimes with guns drawn. What the fuck is that about? I have no firearm purchases on my record, I'm not a violent offender, yet they still felt the need to show such force. And honestly I felt more bad about losing my moms money than about the possibility of jail. Jail scares me because I know it would be unbearable amounts of time in my own head. I'm not physically scared of prison, I'm mentally terrified. Of course there are always other places to get dope, but they just seemed so out of reach, I'm not a chamillionaire. But it's not like I was ever like, for my own good, I must stop. I didn't feel physically fatigued, rehab always remarked on how abnormally healthy Mike and I were for H addicts. And technically, I've never even been clean. Methadone is an opiate. And I pay for it, out of pocket. A lot. What's the frickin difference, isn't methadone basically legal, crap quality dope?
I like how Lou Reed writes that "he's made a decision" because we all have. We made the choice to be this close to H. No one can help us, really. It is what it is and everyone has to find their own way. I am not ready to leave it behind, but I don't think cruising on the M-done for a few years to get back up is stealing from others. Anyone can get into a m-done program these days. Around here at least, they take new people at my clinic everyday, so I'm not taking a place away from someone else. M-done, H, oc's they're all interchangeable, more or less. I didn't know what I was getting into w/the m-done. I'm almost more hooked on that shit than the H, and I don't even like it. If I knew what I know now about it.....things would be different..