Snobbery

OK YA GOT YA SHOT OF FURRINESS look one post lower. Hibernation. I haven't done very much today except hibernate. I wanted to sleep last night and was maniac instead, as soon as I hit a lull I chucked risperidone down my throat, still didn't sleep. Realized I'd forgotten methadone. Took that and Nytol. Slept. Slept all day till four pm.

Heroin is slipping down down down in my affections. I got a really cool message last night callling me a drug snob over H4, H3. That is, preferring the injectable hydrochloride salts of heroin over heroin base which is strictly for smoking but can be injected with the addition of vein-rotting fruit acids. If I'd used more H4 (instead of just TWO batches in ten years) my veins might be in better shape. But then again I'd still be using and would have gone even more insane when I stopped, as more time would have passed and everything would be worse worse worse so maybe I should be thankful for H3 the drug that made me stop it. My veins are so bad now I just skin pop, rather than go in the neck or the femoral. Skin pop WHEN I do it. Which is now never. If you follow me you'll have to excuse the constant lapses in time. Past, present and future all converge here.

Anyway, yes I am a drug snob and doncha just love it! I love being a snob. There are drugs snobs, fashion snobs, intellectual snobs and cultural snobs (not strictly the same thing as painting and opera are cultural but not intellectual); money snobs (big time) and here in Lovely Britain you still get Class Snobbery or more commonly Inverted Class Snobbery. Just about any aspect of human life is enshrined in snobbery of some sort. Even junkies are snobs. To do with how long you use. How much you use (the littlest the best; the most the best)... and so on.

Moulin Rouge is on as I felt musical. I like the music in Moulin Rouge. If I were in that film I'd want to play the conductor. I'm way thinner than the conductor they cast but I'd do a good job at King of the Crazies.

Outside it may be rainining
But in here it's entertaining!

Couldn't have written a better couplet meself.

Here's the conductor:



The Moulin Rouge must have been quite good on absynthe.

According to Wikipedia, "a critic" said (probably last year) that:

Absinthe makes you crazy and criminal, provokes epilepsy and tuberculosis, and has killed thousands of French people. It makes a ferocious beast of man, a martyr of woman, and a degenerate of the infant, it disorganizes and ruins the family and menaces the future of the country.

Vincent Van Gogh was said to have been a heavy drinker of absynthe. I spell it with a Y.

I'm so not into drugs I have a pack of unopened needles. Just lying there on the floor. I am throwing all dirty ones out. This one stays vigin and unpenetrated until the day comes when I chuck it out or use it. Possibly to squirt ink over canvas or for some artistic purpose. Didn't say I'd use 'em for heroin did i?!

Well this has gone on too long. I tried to watch Cleopatra last night but was semi-conscious by the end. See I told you it was a drain on the attention.

Do you know City Roads drug detox actually have a "no cutting" rule. So they expect you to take away the only thing that "makes life worth living" and not act at least pseudo-suicidal. That's what happens in drug detox. Most people are suicidal. If you don't know that you don't know about addiction! Why do you think I get offended when NA tell me to "detox". They haven't seen me do it! It makes me lose my marbles. I lost then every single time I tried to do it or even switched medication. I got hyper on Subutex. Never realized what was happening but music suddenly sounded incredibly lush. I was glued to the music channel for days on end. In the mornings I was so happy it was unreal. Made the 3 days of going from heroin/methadone to Subutex a doddle but looking back I know I wasn't right. The other times it was just horrible.

I was into doing that Waismann method anaesthetic detox and getting the druggieclinic to fund it. They might if I impressed them with my logic. But considering every other detox I have done has perturbed the balance of my mind very obviously (and not worth going into here) and that even switching heroin to methadone had the walls speaking to me, and that my mind is fractured enough to be labelled schizo... I cannot see that I would wake up exactly in one piece... Know what I mean?

PS Heather's Mom writes addiction book reviews
http://heathersmom1.blogspot.com/2011/02/book-reviews.html?showComment=1299375596672#c563837765930657841

Well I wanted to end this on a positive. See below for the entertaining furrybunnyhammywithatail sleeping. That is a dormous:~~

Tea and Sympathy

I MET SOMEONE I KNOW who also happens to be labelled schizoaffective. That is Pinxx. She bought me an alcoholic lemonade, but she drank tea. She said when she starts drinking she can't stop. Not like me. I can. I stopped drinking after 3. We smoked Sterling and Pall Mall cigarettes. She says she sees faces in the floor like I do. I see little furry animals everywhere, kind of like patterns you see in clouds. And no, not every second of every day. Occasionally. Even when it is happening it only happens a few times per day. I had an extra-lovely dose of methadone in the night so I was extra woozy in the morning. In fact I didn't get up until past 11am. I met X and Y my 2 friends who are sometimes helpful. I told them I had schiz-affective. I only tell people the full name who I think might understand it. They didn't. X said only 1 in 1000 people is bipolar. This is nonsense, it's one in 50. Or one in 100 each of type 1 and type 2. Schizoaffective is 1 in 200 so I'm rare!

What was I ranting on about yesterday "showing 2 fingers" to the methadone clinic?..? This is because I hate them having one up on me. At least I'm motivated to get off the green gloop. Most people seem to want to stay on it as long as possible. I don't. I just want to be OK and drop the crap as quick as I can.

So Pinky and I had tea. There isn't much else to tell. We talked about mental hospitals and drugs. The secretaries on the next table seemed to find our conversation fascinating but I didn't play up to that. I don't think P would have approved. She is still using heroin, which pisses me off. She's not a heroin addict and never has been fully addicted. She's done cold turkey 3 times but can't have been fully addicted. She would have gone crazy if she was. Remember the time I clearly met diagnostic criteria for bipolar first was when I detoxed cold turkey. I was manic-depressed (both). I've seen tired mania (no physical energy but the mind seething over) and that was me when I came off the heroin. Full mania means you're shining out energy like an electric fire. Others can warm themselves on your heat.

I used to be very in tune with psychic emanations when I was younger. Heroin gave me the luxury of psychic sleep. Now I'm wide awake again and that's why I got diagnosed nuts. Everything flooded back at full strength. You have to bear in mind I went "mentally ill" ON the stuff that blocks mental illness out, so without that stuff of course I need risperidone to be OK.

I'm back taking the meds once more. It's very boring, but I do it.

Cleopatra is playing on TV. What a luxury to have afternoon films in the evening thanks to shiny digital discs. I nearly had a flaming row (yes I was manic) in the shop when I bought it about my reasons for buying that film. In the end I just dropped it and stalked out, film in hand. Why should I explain the fact that Cleopatra is very good but very long and a challenge to the attention span. You need lots of hot tea and cigarettes to get through it. In years gone by I'd have needed heroin too, least I don't need that any more. I haven't taken heroin since the start of the week. What a waste of time that was. I don't even recall why I wanted it now. Now I've proven, yet again, that it's crap ~ I don't need it any more.

Anyway that's today. I'm off. Take care everyone. Be safe.

Dont' Take Heroin, Gledwood

AKH WHAT am I doing? Using heroin then going to NA. Well it's good to go to NA; bad to use heroin. I don't WANT to be using heroin. Now I have it I feel I never need it again. It's all inside me but I feel no diferent to how I've felt a million times before WITHOUT gear. So I don't need gear, don't want gear. I refuse to lie about when I take gear. Can't be doing with making myself sound all clean when I'm not. So I have to be direct.

And I told NA I was bipolar which is of course only half the truth as I'm bipolar+; but I told as much as I was willing to share with a group of people I don't really know. I felt nervous enough to feel my voice go quavery. Which is better than ROARING as I have before. So hard to strike a balance. I told them I reckoned they deserved an explanation. I know more people at this group than any other it is just one bus ride away, rather than 2, or a train as so very many others are, so I call them my home group.

It's really pathetic to use heroin. Why do I do it? I have no excuses. I don't need excuses. I only got diagnosed because I had gone beyond the point of desperation. Then I went beyond that going ga-ga-ga at the top of my voice in the kitchen. (No wonder the neighbours give me a wide berth.)

I don't care what anyone thinks. Well not THAT much. (Wouldn't put it online for any person in the entire world with internet to access if I did.) But this is why I can't face interviews. Someone asked me if I would do an interview but the timing came just after I'd gone potty and couldn't keep my head together so I gave no answer. In fact my email is so randomizedly badly answered I'm sure I've offended loads of people.

Please don't be offended if you sent me email and I didn't get back to you. I find it hard enough to keep a blog going, attention wise. So email on top is difficult.

If you email and don't get an answer back, please comment. Or comment saying you emailed and direct me to the date you sent it and I'll find it and get back to you.

Does American grass really cost $300 an oz? I'm watching American beauty.

Hey American beauty is quite good. I like the 42 year old Kevin Spacey plays.

I have to go now. DON'T TAKE HEROIN GLEDWOOD. EVER AGAIN.

*******

AMERICAN BEAUTY (KEVIN SPACEY): AMERICAN WOMAN
i love this: it's what stoned on spliff looks like



AMERICAN BEAUTY (ANNETTE BENNING): DON'T RAIN ON MY PARADE
i love this: this is what good-mood manic looks like

7:07 Entertainment

WOW IT'S ONLY 7 in the morning. It feels later. I slept for hours and hours because I took a whole load of methadone that was full of sugar (someone else's). It doesn't make me feel stoned at high doses, but it does make me sleep at night (not even during the day though, as heroin would).

Which is the crux of the methadone issue (because it's not like heroin) but Governments love it. (Because it gives outward signs of improvement.) Most addicts aren't willing or ready to improve that much and so methadone therapy is a waste of time. E.g. on the man who was willing to sell me £40 worth! His house is like a crackhouse. That's the place where everyone was rude. Everyone but him. He's OK. Gruff. But OK. Someone once said he was trying to intimidate me, but I don't feel intimidated by people like that. Who express how they are feeling. All they are doing is laying cards you already knew they had on the table. So dealing with them is easier.

Anyway I know a story about this one certain person that makes him out to be a Paper Tiger. I had another friend who was genuinely Hard and they came into conflict...

I don't particularly like the word Hard, when Strong and Tough describes somebody better. There's someone else I know like that and I respect him for it. Then people get to know me and call me "Hard" which annoys me. I also used to get called Cynical when I'm just normal in that respect. So people can be self-centred and nasty and I can see that. Ain't cynical: that's being realistic. It was when a heroin addict was banging on about how you "have to do stuff for your grandkids" and I was like "yeah once you've had a hit first" ~ and we all know that is the reality of heroin addiction. Once you've had your gear you're ready to Engage. Before that, no engagement can or will take place. And what little does comes with a whole slew of resentment. Forcing a heroin addict into meaningful activity before their heroin is like forcing a starving man to work before giving him any food. It won't make him like you.

Last night I put on Meet the Fockers again. My mood had fallen at about 7pm and I was pissed off. No longer manic but depressed. Manic depression. Doncha just hate it! I was particularly offended when my shrinko used those 2 words together in that phrase as if manic and depressed have to be 2 components of the same thing (but they are: I just hate it).

I was also very bothered and pissed off that I have schizophrenia. That is what schizoaffective MEANS. It means bipolar + schizophrenia and I know the schizzy bits in me. They are the bits that don't add up that I couldn't explain to another person. Like rooms in a house divided by bullet proof glass walls. Just because you can see into doesn't mean you're GETTING into or that anything gets out. What comes out is a report of that which is viewed not experienced. The experience takes place in that impregnable fortress of an experience-bubble. One day, to those of you who are interested, I will try and explain what is schizzy in me. Because I do think I grasp it. Just can't do it at 8 o'clock (as it is now) in the morning.

My roses are opening beautifully in their pint glass, especially one. The other has gone limp. I just cut the stem again. Now they look like Little and Large. Tomorrow I'm getting some Art Stuff to make my trotterdonkey Acrylic Paintings for my wall.

So this is now; that is then. I've got to go. Pizza and tea ready.


FRANTIC
i used to go to this club, it was nuts
and this is the sort of music i used to go eeeeeeing to: psychedelic hardhouse



these ones all have that unmixed compilation cd quality. a good dj would flash the next tune over the old one and dijjydit through so you're bouncing on the old one and then the E!-E!-E!-E!-E!-E!-E! energy of the new one takes you flying off....

HARDHOUSE MIX
stonkinstompin
but why the words? hardhouse = no words! CMON!!! i love the choon tho



CLASSIC HARDHOUSE 2 i love this one
what does this say to you, that squeaky word says all different words
squeakymunchtime diginmymind it's like a musical pill-dispenser
this one has words but the words are in the tune not outside of, that's what works better



this is what i've got. i have symptoms of bipolar schizoaffective disorder

At 3am

SLEEP. My sleep has been abysmal. At best I can sleep a few hours. Or go all night and half the next day ie going to bed 24 hours from when I last woke up. So I got some zopiclone and took one in the early afternoon. I don't think I've ever taken a pill to sleep at this time. I thought I might sleep a couple of hours but I slept about hours and hours, probably 10 or 11 hours.

It's now past 3am. But I woke up feeling OK, like I could focus and concentrate and maybe even read a book.

I gotta go methadone clinic tomorrow. No choice. Gotta go. I hate going because the last few times I was high and caused great amusement. Talking to everyone. Being friendly. High on nothing.

I can't bear to walk in there as my normal boring self now. But I have to have to no choice have to. Hate being a methadone addict. It's not as bad in some ways as being a heroin addict. You don't wonder what the dose is going to be like strength-wise as you never feel it.

Heroin barely feels like anything, even when I took grams of it I never felt more than hot and chilled out. Which is strange as withdrawal literally makes you feel burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. Which is strange as apparently ancient (non-Biblical) descriptions of hell give a very similar account of simultaneously burning and freezing.

I want no drugs. I wish I'd never tried a single one.

Hey I feel alive alive ALIVE!


MICHAEL JACKSON: CHILDHOOD

A Serenity Hit

I FEEL ALL CALM AND SERENE since coming home from Narcotics Anonymous. I said nothing to them about the altered states I've found myself in. Ukh. I felt dead odd this afternoon. Don't know why. I blamed the pills I'd started taking again but they're supposed to make you well. Ho-hum. I shared about the stuff we at NA have in common. You are supposed to focus on the similarities rather than the differences. But it's the differences that are most intriguing. That's why I find pothead lady such a fascination: because she was NOT taking heroin or crack. But she never comes to the Monday meeting.

I really feel mellowed out on this Serenity stuff they have. If they'd had any spare I'd have hit up a little lump under the glaring striplight in the NA kitchen.

Speaking of which I have a whole load of new needles to get rid of. The ones I got last week when I couldn't be bothered any more. I look back and see such a lack of self-respect. I need to buy a few grams of self respect to hit up with this serenity. I think they'd make a nice mixture to bang up intravenously.

Now once this awful doctor's appointment is over I should be able to relax. Knowing I have to see this doctor on Thursday stresses me whenever it crosses my mind.

I heard something very interesting at NA tonight. Somebody said "I don't listen to my own head because it lies to me". I know exactly what he means. I can never tell which thoughts, ideas, impulses are the ones to go with. I need to learn how to Do the Right Thing.

That was what got me the most about Being on Drugs. I suppose deep down I knew that I was in a mess because I was doing Wrong. And it was in a real, awful mess I was in. Slowly, slowly slowly I am sorting myself out. I have clean clothes, a showered, clean body and the cleanest self I can manage. That means methadone, antihistamine (non-addictive) sleeping pills and antipsychotics. I'm not happy about the antipsychotics and I don't like taking sleeping draughts. Last night my head was lit up from the inside like a television set. I can see vivid imagery moving; abstract shapes. I was wuzzy on risperidone yet could not sleep.

So I zonked myself (reluctantly) on the diphenhydramine (Nytol). I slept through to the early afternoon, then realized I felt odd because I was hyped up. I had a difficult time in the post office where there was a very long line of people and people seemed to be looking at me, talking about me and laughing at me. I just try and be chilled out about all this. I do what I have to do, which is not react. I forced myself to stay in line, when my instinct was to get out of there. Then the lady gave me money, I got some bits from Sainsbury's quickly and got home. It will soon be midnight; I'm bracing myself for these pills. You get good meetings and bad meetings at NA and tonight was a good one. I'm keeping hold of this Serenity.

In the words of the Prayer (see below) I need Serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the Wisdom to know the difference. So the next thing I need is Wisdom, so I know what to do. And once I get all 3: Courage, Serenity and Wisdom I'm OK. NA is just a group of people and its failings are human failings. I hope if I can accept people for who they are, and take what is good from the Group, then I can get somewhere with them. (I don't know what else to do.)

So that's me tonight. Still blissed out on this Serenity. And avoiding thoughts of Stressful Things.

Back to NA

IT'S NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS TONIGHT. NA hold meetings every night and every daytime and as far as I know most mornings in London, but tonight is one of my favourite ones, so I'm going.

I'm thinking of just telling them how I feel about being (as I see it) misunderstood. Then, if I am misunderstood I'm sure somebody will feed something back to me. But if I was understood all along I'll find out that too, so it's win-win.

I have no word to "yell in their face" as I so delicately put it; and more than once, if I remember right... If I were that wound up then I would yell it too, but I'm striving to avoid over-confrontational behaviour, even if I'm merely confronting the Group rather than a person in it... If I had an issue with one specific person then I wouldn't share that to the group, I'd tell that person alone.

What I will tell them is that I'm going to a dual diagnosis group and that I feel better understood there because the dual group accept that I walk in every week hyped up to a greater or lesser extent and the specific culprit drugs that tend to make hyper (cocaine and amphetamines) are ABSENT from my wee-tests. (I love the word "wee"; it reminds me of being four and saying "a wee and a poo"!)

I will have to tone myself down if I do feel amped up and I have felt amped up for most of today. I don't want a repeat of the time when I was raging angry and sent a very tangable jolt round the circle. A jolt of bad-feeling. The woman next to me, who is an itsy-ditsy-smiley-happy former pot-addict nearly jumped out of her skin and I only wish I could find her again to say I'm sorry. (As an ice-breaker.) There's another NA member who gave a fantastic chair (which means a 20-minute potted history of your using and how you got out and stayed out of the chaos everyone comes to NA to crawl out of)... I went and made a mess of the meeting my very obviously hefting up my loud rustly carrier bag full of stuff just as he was cruising towards the finish line.

I wasn't trying to communicate anything to anyone, but that's how it must have looked and I feel guilty because he looked at me a few times as he made his points and I just want to say I'm sorry ~ again as an icebreaker. I don't feel ridden by guilt and I don't feel he's desperately pissed off with me, but if I could speak to either of these two again I think they're both fascinating people to be friends with. Both are brimming over with their own distinct spirits. I suppose I feel bad for having given out bad vibes that it's obvious both have felt and I don't want to go around emanating nuclear radiation. I want to radiate Serenity, and charm. If I am charming now it's very much by accident. I feel most people pick up the vibe of precisely how I am, even though they sometimes misinterpret it. If it's "drugs" it's a distinct lack of, rather than a presence they're picking up on!

It's obvious to me that I'm nearing the end of an over-long story drugs-wise. Because as I said earlier, if I'd done gear at any other time after a break I'd probably have gone on using it until I was penniless and then had to stop (because I wouldn't go out and graft up money these days). I'd use the days without drugs to reset my priorities, then by the time I got paid again I had willpower not to use. This only happened on one occasion, some time in January. I went through four phases with heroin.
Phase one: I only used what money I could "afford" ~ usually £10 a day, though I still got into trouble, running up debts. When the shit finally hit the fan I went hurtling into phase two, where I begged up as much as I possibly could every single day of the week most weeks. I never took a day off at weekends when I already had money. I made as much as I could when I could, and nearly all this money went on heroin, not crack. Crack was only ever a minor part of my using, apart from one binge I indulged in for several weeks. I considered myself addicted because the small amount I did use was very important to me. Eventually I reduced to one day a week and from that to "nothing" ~ I probably lapsed on crack about eight times since giving it up "for good" for new year 2009. And I'm well aware how pathetic "eight times" sounds in conjunction with "gave up for good". I had my last ever toke on the crack pipe in early December 2010. I couldn't go near crack now. Considering how high I get without it, I'd go so far out of the stratosphere on it, I doubt I'd ever come back!Stage three was me as a "giro junkie"; this is an addict who only uses money paid by the state for sickness or unemployment. The final phase is now: no heroin at all bar a couple of lapses, which were me being depressed enough not to care any more. I only crave gear when I'm very low and down in mood or a methadone dose is overdue. If I can manage not to get depressed like that again, I cannot see why I'd turn to heroin. It never did much except salve my pain.

In the fifth and final stage I'll finally have kicked methadone. And I will never have anything more to do with Drugs ever again.


God, grant me the Serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
the Courage to change the things I can ~
and the Wisdom to know the difference.


Illustrated: apron representing 15 years clean and serene (other items of clothing, including underwear, are available) I wish I could wear something representing some vast number of years clean and sober and for it to be true. But the truth of that matter is down to me ...

5pm Sour

I CAN'T KEEP UP. I can't keep any buzz any happiness anything good that I feel, it just falls flat, like an actress in a long dress walking up steep stairs in high heels I fall down flat. I've lovely alcohol in my system but I just feel slightly drunk plus depressed. And I have to go to this doctor on Thursday and try not to present as a picture of self-pitying misery. If I do he will just laugh inwardly and think "bipolar". I feel like such an idiot for ever getting swept away on a high that was somehow of my own making, except I can't make it now. Trust me if anybody could get high like that the world would be full of hypomanic and manic individuals spending, bonking, dancing and wandering round in psychotic confusion, clothes inside out going "dib-dib-dib".

Ask any psychiatrist which mental condition they'd chose to have and I guarantee they'll all tell you "hypomania". That is mild mania: euphoria without paranoia, delusions or voices. So I'm watching Meet The Fockers and I still can laugh at Robert DeNiro and Barbra Streisand. If they can outdo Ben Stiller they're A1 comedians. So I try I do try I keep on trying. Where did I go wrong? Considering this was going BEFORE the heroin. I remember a friend of mine saying she wanted nothing more to do with me "while I was on drugs all the time". But I wasn't! It was mood swings she was seeing. Not drugs. I never was a druggie (a drug-taker; yes. A druggie: no!) I wasn't a druggie until I got into heroin and then I took heroin every day. Heroin flattened out my mood. No more depression. No more highs. The "high" of heroin is very mild and weak as drugs go. I only really took heroin as a chemical coping mechanism, not the indulgence people seem to assume it is. That rubbish about recapturing some original high is pure bumkum for me and most people.

Most people, self included feel little more than an indistinct wuzziness, a hot and itchy body and nausea when they first take heroin. More likely than not you'll end up with your head down the toilet, puking. Only when you get used to it: ie get hooked, do you get the full-blown opiate high. And that rapidly fades into an enhanced version of OK. I OD'd on heroin before I'd ever had a major habit, was in hospital for 2 days. And the high I got (in terms of strength, not niceness) was little higher than a 4 out of 10. Heroin feels weak. It feels clean and fluffy as fresh towels. It doesn't feel dirty or depraved and it certainly doesn't feel "hard" like a "hard drug". Crack does. Crack is drug-induced madness. Heroin makes mellow, gives very little but takes much. It takes away pain. It might eventually take your life. So this feels like it's come to and end. See ya later.

Illustrated: what Americans call a pratfall. Looks better when a pretty girl does it

9pm to 9am

I SLEPT FROM ABOUT 9PM TO 9AM. I never made note of the precise times. Could have been 7pm, I don't recall. I must have had at least 10 hours' sleep. I took 2x 50mg Boots Sleep Aid (diphenhydramine: same as Nytol). That's double the recommended dose but I took 50mg last night and was awake all night long.

I wrote out a whole load of stuff just now but I'll save it until I can think of nothing to say, then it can be a space-filler.

I had to reset my sleep to nighttimes only, else I wouldn't make these 3 appointments I have in the coming week. I like sleeping all day because I can avoid the world then be awake on my own all night. I much prefer living this way.

I'm trying to avoid going into an anti-methadone rant. I don't know whether it really gave me a problem. The long post (coming later) names some people we knew who were heroin addicts who ended up in mental hospitals with bipolar or severe depression after getting clean. Point being, I always knew heroin was a psychic blocker. When you suddenly leave your psyche wide open you go crazy because you no longer have the medicine to make you feel better. I think that's the truth of what goes on rather than methadone literally poisoning me. I'm asking this doctor what he thinks. He's a consultant psychiatrist who spends a lot of time at the methadone clinic so if anybody understands the issues surrounding taking or not taking drugs and going cuckoo he does.

I now have FIVE professionals on my case. And am probably getting one more, making six. Normally you have a methadone key worker and that's it. If everybody saw five or six professionals the system would collapse. It doesn't make me special it makes me a drain on resources. I still think there's some way I could put myself back together on my own. Or to put it another way, this is how I feel, not what I think.

I don't really care about what's what any more. I only did care because it was a way of being responsible (I thought) and anchoring myself to reality (I thought). Whatever it was I cared about before I don't care about now. Every time I get depressed my head convinces me it's not real, certainly not a medical condition. This is why no help ever occurred. It's not my job as patient to name what treatment I need. If this were the case there would be radiotherapy machines in supermarkets and people who thought they had cancer could blast away.

Anyway I see this doctor on the 24th and I refuse to put on a depressed act for him. I realized over time that psychiatrists probably get a lot of that, but I'm not doing it. If I have got depression it's only mild anyway. I don't want antidepressants because I've never had one that worked without putting me on a high, which feels wonderful once it kicks off, but the last time was such a disaster I don't know I'd ever go near such poison again. The antidepressants made me so depressed I had trouble moving my body and didn't even want heroin any more. Anybody who doesn't want heroin, in my opinion is completely crazy or just the kind of strong person who doesn't need drugs to function. I only found heroin easy to give up because I got higher off it (WAY higher) than I ever was on it. I'm no longer willing to give some ignorant bastard, who only deals cheap Afghan crud, my money to feel OK. I took heroin twice last week. The first dose was so powerful it knocked me unconscious for several hours. Yet I still felt miserable. Ergo: heroin no longer works. So there is no answer that I currently know of. (Except God.)

God is one of the higher powers NA talk about. I'm not happy with Narcotics Anonymous. Until I see my doctor I'm probably not going. I'm fed up of the obsession with drugs you get in there. I want to think of other things. The Nutter Club is OK and it says a lot that you find more reality in a room full of mentally ill people than a room full of addicts who ascribe their every problem to addiction. The most ridiculous one I've heard was "I was an addict before I was using".

Well not me: I only lost control of drugs when the drug was heroin and anybody who takes heroin long enough becomes an addict. I'm an addict because I took heroin. Just because somebody has speed or some other rubbish I don't want or need doesn't mean I'll take it, yet NA seem to think I'll do that one too. Just take anything going no matter of time or place or company. That's not behaviour of a drug-addict. That's a drugs dustbin. If you take uppers when you're addicted to heroin, and don't take heroin with them and after them, you're going to feel worse than you ever believed possible.

When I told somebody I couldn't use any drug I got the pat response "of course you can't" but this person meant "because you're an addict". No. I can't use most drugs because they either disagree instantaneously or produce such drastic after-effects, it's not worth taking them again. That's the precise opposite of an addiction or compulsion to use. It's an aversion. But they will not listen. I get very little understanding from NA so I'm putting them on ice until I'm ready to come back. Otherwise I'll just get so pissed off with them, I'll never come back.

O I've got to go this thing has been glaring at me for 4 hours. If I don't press "publish" I'll never post it.


ANCIENT MADONNA: WHITE HEAT; WHO'S THAT GIRL TOUR, MITSUBISHI JAPANESE TV SPECIAL 1988

Ecstasy and Heroin

IT'S 5PM AND I STILL HAVEN'T BEEN TO BED since last night. This was partially deliberate, to reset my sleep cycle. Though sleeping all day avoiding the world is attractive, I'm meant to see Dr Shrinko next week and I'm meant to go to the Nutter Club and I'm meant to go to the Methadone Clinic and I can't be dragging myself there in a state of depressed sleep deprivation. If I get depressed and especially if I sleep twice, when I wake up the second time I feel really lousy. I don't know why that is. Usually when I'm down I sleep for hours and hours, at least 12 hours a day, sometimes a lot longer. If I go a day without sleep I can do 19 hours or longer. The Patronizers at the clinic liked to blame opiates for this. How come it was happening when I worked, a good 6 years before I was addicted to heroin? They never listened. They're actually more obsessed with drugs than most junkies. In fact I have a theory that some of the staff who work in such places are mere junkies by proxy. They want to be around the stuff. The outrageousness and despair. But they're too scared to commit to the needle (or the foil, if you insist). I kind of understand this. But the only thing that kept me taking heroin was what heroin did for me. Nothing to do with being with any group of people. I noticed heroin addicts seemed a lot more open-minded than ordinary folk. Far more accepting of people for who they were with all their faults. The nightclub crowd coudln't tolerate negativity; it killed their buzz. Their negativity happened when the party was over and they were washed up alone in a meaningless world of comedown that magically restored itself by Thursday night. So by Friday or Saturday they were ready to blitz their brains yet again on MDMA. Though I've raved about MDMA, it was, in the end, just a very seductive lie. People who aren't nice except on E just aren't nice people. They might dearly desire to be nice and use that annoying word "fluffy" which to me always meant lacking in substance and many of them appeared to have a complete personality change on E. Suddenly becoming caring, outgoing, considerate and full of time for others. In real life they were sour, grouchy and very sad. The worst cases I met on the club scene were actually more messed up than the heroin addicts. Perhaps heroin was soothing those addicts' ills in a way that Ecstasy cannot. Ecstasy opens up; heroin closes down. Is there any meaning in chemical meaninglessnes? Or are they just two opposing lies?


EIGHTH WONDER: I'M NOT SCARED
Patsy Kensit apparently used to go to Shoom club in a gym in south London. Shoom was the first Acid House party in the UK. She wanted to be "the biggest star in the world". Then she married Liam Gallagher from Oasis and turned down a part in Friends. Now she's in Holby City...



Illustrated: modern-looking ecstasy pills. The "love dove" bird is totally different from the doves I remember in the early 90s, that sat more upright and were stamped deeper. And they were really beautiful ...

MADONNA TRACKS: The following are the best tracks from their respective albums. And neither one was ever released as a single!

MADONNA: THIEF OF HEARTS (Erotica album)



MADONNA: SKIN (Ray of Light album)

6:41 calm

I DO RECALL A TIME not too long ago when I posted "X o'clock calm" a few times, meaning a lot calmer than I was a couple of hours ago (when I had been in a manic frenzy). Well I'm not exactly feeling wonderful but I am trying to bring myself up or at least distract myself with nice music. I don't handle depression very well I'm afraid and yes I feel depressed and have done since almost precisely 3:30pm last Monday. That is the time that I crashed down from my high and I've been feeling increasingly bad since then. I recall the time because I was supposed to meet Valium Marilyn down the library at 4 and by the time I got there I felt so dire I couldn't even distract myself with the books. I gave her 14 minutes then disappeared into HMV the record/DVD shop where I bought stuff I didn't even want (Michael Jackson) in a forlorn attempt to cheer myself. Now the cheer has vanished and I don't know what to do, how to handle this crisis, what I'm supposed to be doing next, what I'm doing wrong. I'm doing something wrong else I wouldn't be suffering like this. And I want an explanation off that doctor I don't think he realizes how much he does my head in just listening then saying nothing when everyone around him is saying "bipolar" and I feel in sore need of a word to YELL IN THE FACES OF NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS for judging me, looking down on me, thinking me a fantasist and a liar because maybe THEY manage to shower, wear clean clothes and put themselevs together on methadone but I don't. I get more lost, more fucked up and frankly more ill the longer I take that stuff. I turn up to most meetings looking like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards and people wonder why I don't want to engage in the weirdo group hug! Would you want to hug anyone if you hadn't showered for the best part of a week?

Yes I could shower. But it takes me an hour and I've no clean clothes to change into. So I either shower and don't go. Or do go and go dirty. That's the limit of my coping skills and we've gone way past "cannot be bothered" into "it never happens".

I have a desperate desperate problem I have to sort out somehow and I don't even know where to begin. Y'all need to bear in mind I've had troubles with my moods going back arguably to childhood and most certainly since my late teens. I had symptoms of bipolar intermittently from my early 20s though these were originally triggered by antidepressants, so I thought they didn't count. You have to bear in mind the label "manic depressive" while sounding very much more interesting than plain depression also scares the living shit out of me so I decided to hide anything that could possibly be construed as manic from prying doctors until a couple of years ago. By which time I was taken as a deadbeat junkie looking for an excuse to justify my using. Now I get into the mess you all know about. Well, the bits I told you about, and suddenly the doctors are listening. I know doctors and I know human nature and I know when I'm being taken seriously and I'm taken seriously now. Now that I find out if I am actually bipolar I'm not just type one but "severe" with it. Which makes me very bitter, because I asked for help repeatedly and was nodded at and ignored. I told the doctors when I was in the shared care scheme which is a methadone programme for junkies who are doing "really well" (ie ones the ordinary clinic hasn't time for any more) that unless I addressed my long-running problems with moods I wasn't going to make much progress tackling the addiction side of things and got lots of nods and no action whatsoever. THEY are the professionals. It's up to THEM to help ME when I ASK FOR IT. AND I GOT NO HELP WHATSOEVER UNTIL I WAS SO CUCKOO THE WALLS WERE SPEAKING TO ME AND I HAD TO RESTRAIN MYSELF FROM SETTING MY HOUSE ON FIRE AND JUMPING THROUGH AN UPSTAIRS WINDOW. This is the shit I have been trying to deal with. Me going so badly off on one I just don't know what I'm doing any more. You can put whatever interpretation you please as I'm sure you will do. Self-indulgence, hypochondria, whatever. The fact is I was not drug-taking, I wasn't drunk and you get the most watered down version acceptable. I cannot post in full detail, I just can't.

I mean, I realized at one point I had probably been yelling and screaming to myself in my thin-walled room far more frequently than I'd realized. And it suddenly makes sense why my housemates who used to treat me like a junkie but mumble hello now scurry away and hide completely at the first sign of me.

Yes we're back to THIS yet again, because THIS is a whacking great huge unresolved issue that I'm frankly tired of dealing with on my own. I don't know what to do. I feel suicidal or I feel so high I just cannot be bothered with the most basic social niceties. At the extreme I stopped being a human being and had a tiger in my head who ROARED my thoughts for me. I was amping with energy like a nuclear power station (this was a couple of weeks or so ago). And I wondered why people backed away from me in the street!

All this is incredible fun in the high phase but I crashed down and now I'm suffering for it. I'm writing in a lovely clear window of peace, serenity and calm that pragmatism tells me probably won't last. I'm not being negative I'm merely being realistic and if you were like this you'd have to be realistic too. I'm not asking anyone for an answer. I know you can't give one. I see my doctor next Thursday and I only hope I am in a good enough mood to bother leaving my house because I've been so hacked off of late, if I didn't want to go, I just wouldn't. I have been sorely let down by the medical profession when I did all I could to ask for their help. Now that they're willing to give it I really need to do what I have to and just get to appointments in time. But the way things are going I can't get my head round sorting out one set of clean clothes and a clean me by next Thursday. Yeah, it's like that.

This doctor knows exactly what's going on, what drugs I took when, how much, how I felt and when, what happened, how intense it was when and for how long, when x started, when y started happening and when I turned into a living bunch of ZZZZZs. So don't worry on that score. I was so desperate when I saw him last December I could only give unvarnished, unedited truth. I had no idea what he wanted to know or see, so he just saw me. No pretence, no cover-ups, no acting, no "showing what he needs to see". I felt broken, confused, injured and very, very raw. I was in such a mess I had to remind myself to move my arms down when I put them up. My head was rushing but my body was frozen. What I recall most was how shocked he looked at the state of me. Psychiatrists have to be poker-faced for their job, but this one gave himself right away. Nothing I have seen or heard or read, and I did avoid excessive reading about "symptoms" ~ no attention span for one thing ~ but nothing that I did hear did anything to put me at ease. Words like "serious" "severe" and even "lifelong" crop up an awful lot. This pinning it on drugs I gave up months and years ago stuff ... I don't think that's going to wash. This guy seems to think I'm mentally diseased. So apart from trying to cheer myself up with films like Meet the Fockers and mugs of hot chocolate I don't know what else to do.

And I'm leaving it there. Sorry to rant yet again on the same old same old shit. It's just every time I think of what to post it's this issue eating away at me. Originally when y'all said I was thinking too much you probably were assuming I think about what I post all day long, which I don't. But now, because I'm down down down and out, I do think about my failings a lot. And I don't know what the hell to do about them.

Peace and best wishes to y'all. Have a cheery weekend. And if it ain't cheery, may it at least be tolerable.


SEAL: CRAZY
i love this tune



SONIQUE: PUT A SPELL ON YOU



SONIQUE: FEELS SO GOOD



12:33 THIS actually cheered me up: "how did you get diagnosed?" stories....

A handful of nothing

I ONCE SAW A NEWBORN BABY IN ACUTE HEROIN WITHDRAWAL. The poor little mite was reaching out with one hand then the other, grasping for something that just wasn't there, never would be there ever again. Until this poor kid grew up and wondered why it liked heroin so much.

In Britain, newborn opiate-addicted babies are titrated with IV morphine and the dose is dropped over a week or two to nothing. Because babies don't act or lie the signs they give out are more easily read by a doctor than those of a full-grown addict who has learned in the process of growing up not to show suffering, yet is suffering intensely and undermedicated. That's what they do to addicts. Undermedicate. Or as my friend Rebs said "they leave you right on the edge".

I won't go into this story more I only brought it up because like that baby, I'm grasping at nothing. Every straw I grasp at gives way.

I have food in the oven. I don't want to eat. A film is playing. I don't want to watch it. I took a Nytol pill (which I loathe) but I don't want to sleep. I have methadone which I also don't want.

I remember the day the doctor said, not entirely seriously (I hope) that he'd up my dose to 300mg a day if it helped me. That's like telling a starving man "I'll give you a tanker load of pigswill". Barking up the wrong tree entirely. I took heroin because I liked heroin and heroin made me OK. Methadone never made me any better than physically OK and when I had a habit going not even 150mg would do that on day one. I never found a dose I could get onto from constant heroin (no methadone) to just methadone where I didn't have periodic hot and cold sweats and no appetite.

In the end I gave up trying to do anything important on methadone. It was just undoable. I went to Windsor to see my Mum. Arrived 2 hours late. Felt intermittently ill despite a "huge" methadone dose. Had to take God knows how many trains to get there. Every time one whooshed past at the station I had this urge to jump... And that's what methadone does to me.

A life on methadone is no life at all. I need to get off it as quick as I can. Even if that involves going back to heroin I'd rather do that and pop filters every eight hours. A filter of good B is stronger than 50mg methadone. So three filters: one £10 bag, 0.2g heroin. That holds me way better than 150mg methadone. Which tells me that their equivalence tables are nonsense. 0.2g of good heroin could be 100mg diamorphine. And it's stronger than methadone. It works. Methadone doesn't work. Methadone drove me so crazy I could no longer think, let alone speak coherent English.

I'm taking the clinic to court. I'm fed up of this bullshit. I don't think I have any right to happiness or any right to morphine or diamorphine but surely I have a right to die, so why won't they kill me? You know what they're doing. They want me to kill myself. I will never kill myself for the sake of another person, so that one won't happen.

All our days are numbered. That's the best thing about life. Life ends.


SONYA: END OF THE WORLD

Moulin Rouge

I WAS ASKING SOMEONE ABOUT A FILM with Kylie Minogue as the Absynthe Fairy, and Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman singing I couldn't for the life of me remember its name. I need films with constant music and this is a good one. I found it for £4 tonight. The idiot self service machine demanded an assistant, as I knew it would, to confirm I'm over 12 years old. And I bought a pile of tex mex pizzas as the other Morrisons have seen fit to clear their frozen pizza shelves empty. I chucked my basket on the frozen peas and stalked out.

I slept all day till 8pm. Got my methadone at 8:30am. Opening time. So I can avoid the world. Now with cherry flavoured alcohol and cigarettes and and ultra thin and crispy mexican pizza in the oven I feel OK.

All this clean shit can go hang. I just don't care any more. More you use, quicker you die. It's all good. Heroin can go take a hike. Crack is as relevant to me as weather patterns on Jupiter. Speed no way. Ecstasy ditto. I don't need uppers. They give a vastly inferior high to my own Natural One (I mean most of these substances last 4 hours maximum full-on, I was high for about four weeks straight on NOTHING, see what I mean?) Some people do use on top of mania but I think they're either truly cracked up or just have a piss-weak version of it. Stephen Fry said cocaine "evened him out" when hypomanic. LIAR! He means it intensified his high and THAT felt even. Uppers are way too jagged for my taste. The only drug that ever did it for me in an anytime anyplace anywhere way was heroin and heroin is unnecessary. From now on I will only consider taking multigram hits. Ie to use heroin as suicide. A Muslim once told me if you do yourself in eg by stabbing yourself, you'll spend eternity in hell stabbing yourself with a knife. I want to spend eternity hitting up the strongest hit of heroin I've ever taken. So I opt for that method. To die on heroin I need a low tolerance. To get a low tolerance I need reducing methadone. I'm already on methadone. So it's all good.

Sorry to post negative things. I'm forever stuck between telling the truth and telling a sanitized acceptable version that's basically a lie. So what you wanna hear?

No I'm not depressed. I'm nothing. I'm psychologically nothing. I'm NORMAL! PERFECT! OK! FINE!

I got a message yesterday about someone who had been through EXACTLY the same shit as me. Mood disorders. Personality Disorders. Strongly implied abused as a kid. I told them I WAS abused but only emotionally and not by my parents but this didn't seem enough. Then I told them some pervert who knew my name (but I didn't know him) said he'd come to pick me up when I was waving a flag at trains to make them go honk-honk from a railway bridge aged 9. But I just said "no that's not me". And I went away. I don't know what he did, because I didn't look. And this is all true. So no hidden trauma. Only trauma I remember.

Nursey only brought this up when dissociation rose it's head. Dissociation is cool it means you wander about and you're not real and/or the world is not real. A prissy weak person would let this bother them. What you do is go as deep into it as you can. It's a free drug after all. So vanish into it and don't come out. Same with mania but not depression. You don't go into depression unless you want it to kill you. The suicide rate in bipolar is 20%; in straight depression 9%. Schizophrenia is about 15%. So don't go into negativity, only positivity. The meaning of life is what life is. So make it meaningless or full of entertainment or both. But don't make it negative or you will die. If you do die bear in mind what that Headfucker said and use a delicious method of death. This is advice to self not you. If you want to kill yourself do yourself a favour. Fuck off and go elsewhere. I'm not into giving suicide tips.

Only thing that does my head in. I can't even say what I mean without the risk of some silly probably young and lost fucker trying to take my ideas which I will never spell out in sufficient detail for anyone else to know the Method and doing Something Stupid. You wanna kill yourself? Ring the Samaritans in the UK, ring the national suicide lines in whatever other place you may be. You're online. Google the numbers.

OK this has burnt itself out I'm going. I feel shit now I was OK before. I have a certain amount of happiness and it just goes, like a butterfly disappearing into the gloom of the evening.


Illustrated: sublime and trash. Says everything

MOULIN ROUGE: ONE DAY I'LL FLY AWAY
if i can find this i'll post it up, but my broadband will jam for the next hour so let's hope it plays
it plays. i like nicole kidman's voice
ONE DAY I'LL FLY AWAY
LEAVE ALL THIS TO YESTERDAY...

Bye bye Heroin

OK I feel OK now. Coasting down from heroin might have something to do with this.

I don't feel "addicted" to heroin, not the way I was. The compulsion to acquire more is not eating away at me. In days gone by I'd have been chomping at the bit to get more money tomorrow morning to go direct to the dealer for more. This lot was a 0.4g for £15. I rang 2 separate dealers. One wanted £15; the other £20. Mr £15 sells 2x tiddly £10 bags for this money. Mr £20 sells fat bags. When I finally met them by Argos they were both together so I gave Mr £20 £15 which he seemed to be cool with, and took a big chunk of dark brown heroin home. I had alcohol and cigarettes so I was in the best mood I could be in, considering how sour I was yesterday (pretty sour, to be honest).

A lot of people say I'm still in detox from the heroin I gave up in early December (though that gear was so weak, I really gave up proper heroin at some point last November). But I did ask Naomi about this again at Nutter Club (where I was in a foul mood) and she says no. If quitting heroin in favour of methadone causes problems as severe and persistent as mine it's "underlying" stuff. Not a "reaction". Well I don't know. I'm asking the doctor. But I noticed he barely mentioned drugs last time and finished with the words "at last..." meaning at last you've found someone, at last you've found acceptance, at last treatment, at last, after all this time this is being addressed. Which doesn't sound like he means a state of temporary detoxification.

Maybe the methadone has permanently damaged my brain. We all know they only prescribe it because it's ineffectual. And so was thalidomide.

I rang my former friend Mother Hubbard who didn't want to be bothered engaging in very much talk. She says she's down to 10mls methadone and thinking of going back to lithium. She always said she was on lithium before heroin. But on heroin she didn't need it, as heroin evens her out better. She said of lithium: it's "very helpful". Yeah and it's the all-time last drug that I want. Anyway she said she didn't have time for me and I said yeah I know our frienship fizzled out years ago. I don't think she liked my directness so I said "bye!" in a cheery voice and blip-p-p-ppp, I hung up.

Then, half an hour later, Pinky rings. I don't think they'd been comparing notes. I only know Pinks through Hubbs but Hubbs talks to no-one these days. I think Pinks was hoping me to be all manic and babbly and entertaining like I was last time. She rang twice. The second time I had heroin in my system so I was far more amenable to conversation. She talked about her borderline personality disorder (the mildest of her three diagnoses). She said she had googled herself and thought I was borderline too. (She's told me that one before.) I've only met two borderlines and both told me I was one too. I don't actually believe that but when Nursey wanted me to google myself about a year ago prior to an "engagement" with the local Personality Disorders Clinic that never happened, the borderline personality disorder was the only one I matched up ding ding ding ding ding! I don't actually think I'm "borderline" at all. I don't believe I have any personality disorder. The dr. thought I might have one... that was until the last couple of times when I came in all hyped up and confused (and drugs-negative). Personality disorders are out the window at this moment in time. Mood disorders are in, so far as I can tell.

Then Pinky said something I'd never heard: that the first time she met me she thought I looked manic. She said the second time I was a bit less manic, then I was depressed. And she asked Mother Hubbs whether I was a manic-depressive and Mother Hubbs said yeah. Mother Hubbard has had that theory about me for years and frankly I thought it was bullshit. I wasn't in the mood for talk of what I might have been nearly ten years ago. I'm down now. Nothing feels real to me any more. I only feel real when I feel high. (Natural or drugged.) The difference between drugged and non-drugged high is that the opiate version makes me ultra-focused so I can do stuff like spend hours doodling Chinese characters or I tell myself I'm being constructive, because I'm learning something. I can read novels. I can plough through books in German, dictionary in hand, consulting every single unfamiliar word. Heroin always gave me this focus.

The natural high gets more and more scattered the higher it goes, so I get into far more of a mess on that than I ever got on depression. I got into terrible troubles through these mood swings so if it is methadone causing it all I'm demanding a change of medication on clinical grounds. It's more than negligence; it's profound negligence to prescribe something that disagrees that vehemently. I got asked twice whether I wanted to go straight into the psychiatric hospital when these moods weren't even peaking. I was an absolute mess. Physically and mentally I was all over the place. How on earth they can justify prescribing medication that does that to me I just do not understand. If they refuse to change it I'll sue. In Britain you have a right to appropriate medical care, no matter what your condition. It's interesting y'all seem to think what's wrong fits my own original theory: that methadone does not suit me at all. I'm lobbying for MSTs ~ morphine sulphate pills.

I just glanced over what I wrote off heroin.

Shamanic Heaven? Very shamanic. Not heaven.

And if you think that's screwy, have a look at some of the nut-nut forums online. The bipolar one did my head in the most because if I'm that I've get manic a lot more intensely than anyone who posted on the board. Schizophrenia: that was really screwy. Page after page of ranting about how the US Government had implanted a chip in this guy's head and that's how they read his every thought. Drug addiction: that's me! I only stumbled over the criteria once and I fulfill every single one beautifully. As beautiful as a flower opening at dawn. If only addiction wasn't the ugliest illness going I'd be junkie-proud. What am I saying. No I wouldn't. I'm not 16 anymore. And I never got an addiction until I was 28 years old. Problem with me was I was already sicked off with depression. So once the seed of Heroin Addiction came along, it flourished in highly fertile ground.

A nice man came to see me this morning. He works for a charity that gives support to living train wrecks like me. Thankfully no psychiatric history was demanded (now giving that in a "highly hightened state of awareness" put me in touch with all manner of horrors safely stashed in the Forget Me For Ever box. I don't usually find memories traumatic. Because I choose not to remember. In that Mentalist Reception Centre I was forced to relive the most depraved and horrible episode of depression of my entire life. And I suddenly realized, if it hadn't been for Heroin, I might never have survived it. Now that was a headfucker. Usually I like headfucker things. But this stuff I hated. Most things couldn't harm me if they wanted to. Nothing is real. I don't need heroin to tell me that. That's the feeling I have, that disengages me. That's why there's chaos on the outside; and a diffuse white light on the inside. Peace. If only I wasn't so unhappy, I would be a beautiful place to be.

It's only the world that is ugly and I thought I needed heroin to cope with the world. When all I really needed was to be harder than it. I try not to care, but in a way I care very much. But I'm able not to do it. And that's what counts. So you see this supposed "illness" of mine. What Naomi calls illness. What the doctors think of illness, because it's they who speak of antipsychotics and lithium, not me. I wouldn't know what to ask for, except quetiapine. It's meant to be better than risperidone and you can dose once nightly. So I'm asking for that. But even my fellow "clients" at the Nutter Club label me ill. Which I found crazy. Because I wasn't ill that time I came in laughing hysterically and babbling. I was just a bit excited and I had gone into a 48-hour cycle. 43 hours awake; 5 hours asleep. Makes ya feel lovely.

When I said to Naomi, who wants more people to join our club, why don't you let everybody in? Most addicts, after all, have some anxiety and depression. We all want to die during detox: that's par for the course. She said no it doesn't work like that. You need serious mental illness just to get in the door. I didn't know this when I started attending. Naomi knows my issues. I was complaining of mood swings for months (when I attended infrequently). Moods that nobody else seemed to notice. I didn't dispute the point in case she chucked me out because I don't really even really get depression. I just get in a mood where I see Truth. Same as being on a high. What you see is Truth. It's the in-betweens where lies flourish. Nowadays the tables are turned on me. It's me saying I'm perfectly all right and Naomi banging away at me to take medication. If I do, it'll stop me getting high again and that's what I want; another high, man. I feel the sea swelling as we speak, but I couldn't tell you which way the current's taking me. Heroin is the only thing that calms those tides. I'm neither up nor down nor left nor right on heroin. Just a wuzzy version of OK.

I'm afraid of not taking heroin again because I feel desperate and lost and confused without it and I've never survived without heroin except when I was so hyped up I didn't know what day it was. Hell, when I really got going I rushed so far ahead I honestly thought we were living in next year. None of this is bad. Don't pin suffering on my description. What would you rather be? High on nothing free of charge? Or "high" on heroin and paying every penny you have to be little better than OK? Only advantage heroin confers is a modicum of focus and concentration that I just don't have without it. Methadone gives nothing and that's why the Government give it. They want me to get confused enough that I wander out and get hit by a truck. That's what they want. They want rid of me.

So this nice man named Deshane had to come in and endure my house. I knocked back one cherry cyder. Found a full can on the side I'd forgotten about, knocked that down on top of it. Only felt depressed. I kept glancing at the time thinking, "I'll give him 15 mins, no more," and he turned up bang on time.

He tried not to look shocked at the state of my house. I have two carrier bags full of 50 Nigerian DVDs that I thought he might be interested in, but he's from St Lucia, so he doesn't speak Yoruba. Shame. I don't want to throw these films away. Now if you want an illness, that's my illness: hoarding. I have five televisions, three surplus chairs, three or four toasters, four or more radios, five or six duvets (I use them all at once to make a giant futon)... and I have sackfulls of clothes fished from bus stops and rubbish bins full of tears and holes that don't even fit me. It was the psychotic guy downstairs who pointed out that I dress like a homeless and I looked at what I was wearing and realized he's telling the truth. Nothing I wear was bought. It was all salvaged from the streets or given to me. I wouldn't wear anything nice. I burn cigarette holes in anything nice, because ... because I am inattentive.

So we had to go through my care needs which I don't recall. I honestly don't remember what he said. I was so stressed I just wanted the interview over. What he did say was that they can get me DLA, the benefit for Mental Fuck Ups that I had twice and let run out twice because I was too fucked up to claim it (sad but true). And he can get me my own place. I said my neighbours all hate me and with good reason, the amount of rubbish I collect, I don't blame them. But he says I can have my own front door and a bedroom and a separate kitchen. It sounds good and as long as I can paint my walls blue I'll be happy. I'm buying superglue and handcuffs so when intruders break in I can place the under citizens arrest. People will victimize you badly in London if you let them. Anyone dares break into my place and I'll lie in wait and stick them to the floor. And you think I'm joking. I intend to be a proud home owner.

Deshane thinks it's a really good idea that I ought to pack what I DO want in boxes, giant tartan bags etc (I have many a spare hammy cage and fish tank that I can fill with books to save space). Anything not packed up I can safely throw away.

Akh why does this have to happen? I feel heroin wearing off and my usual sourness creeping on. I feel as sour as a month-old pint of milk. Well you have to laugh at it. If I did't have dissociative mechanisms I'd have died long ago. Dissociation means nothing is actually real. If my life really was as bad as it was I'd never have survived it. I just cannot see how I would survive. And all this is down to that methadone they are poisoning me with. I found out a bit about how you appeal to the head of the local health authority when methadone is an inappropriate treatment so that's what I'm doing. Taking my complaint right to the top. It's not normal to have symptoms of a severe mood disorder just because you're taking that Mean Green the government force on me.

I've seen how other heroin addicts and crack addicts live. They all look well put together and they live in clean houses. My house looks like a hurricane has hit it. My life is post-nuclear. Everything is a mess. If only this meant I could motivate myself to change it would be a useful insight but it's not. Because the reality of life is hopeless and pointless. I know you probably want to laugh but this is how I feel.

Well I'm going now. I've banged on enough about my boring self. If anyone actually reads to the end, I'll give you a gold medal with "I AM A METHADONE SURVIVOR" engraved across it. How does that sound?

OK I just read back over this and it's farcical. I can't even tell whether I'm being sarcastic or real or not real I'm just fed up. Better to make y'all laugh at me than to make y'all upset. I've had enough; it's 7:30; my chemist opens in an hour so I'll get that one done and hopefully sleep all day. I hope you have a good day. Does anybody know a magic cure for unhappiness where I can be drug free. I don't care how long it takes to work. I have the rest of my life. And I'm going now, before I say something I regret.

Have a nice day y'all!

Drugs Required

I THINK I NEED MORE HEROIN. Surely it's better to be sleeping on the A, S and D keys, producing nonsense, than tapping in adda-gaggas because I'm fully awake and going into Shamanic Heaven. If I could stay in Shamanic Heaven I'd willingly stay there but I always come down down down so why go up. Only other therapy that comes to mind is Glass Therapy but it gets sharp bits all over the floor which I then tread on and that ain't the point. Accidentally cutting an artery, that's the point.

Some bastard is insisting on coming round tomorrow and I just want to go to bed. I need some drugs to push me under. I hate sleeping without pills and I don't see why I should do it. I'm avoiding risperidone on principal it's antipsychotic and I never was psychotic.

Mediums and prophets hear voices, they ain't mad and neither am I. I'm dropping all quasi-medical terminology from now on as it seems to cause gross confusion and make you all think I believe I'm ill. I only think I'm ill when I am actually ill. Which hasn't happened for weeks.

I was watching the Aviator yet another film about somebody the world considered mad. He does what I do, says the same stuff over and over. Nothing wrong with that. I only do it when I'm thinking. Or not thinking.

I wish I could sleep. I wish barbiturates were prescribed. I could do with 30x Seconal 100s. You can take these by the handful if you want deep sleep and you'll sleep into your grave. Only way of suicide I know of involving [benzo] sleeping pills involves a rough sea. Drop the pills while you're at the rocks. Wear multiple layers of clothing to weigh yourself down. Wait long enough that you have trouble moving. Use all your might to get into the choppy waters. It won't feel cold. You will feel nothing ever again. This is advice to self. You wanna kill yourself? Fuck off and go elsewhere this blog is about my life and my death, not yours.

Really I wish heroin were free of charge or at maximum 50p a G H4, then I could take Enough. I'm not talking about a pathetic 300mg a day diamorphine script I'm talking many times that. They know methadone is causing all these problems of mine which is why they prescribe it.

Truth has to be very simple. I'm NOT IN DETOX. Opiate detox makes you sweaty, hot and cold with eyes like saucers. I have none of these symptoms and I've never heard of anybody detox from early December into mid February.

So either: methadone is the root of all my instability
Or: that's just how I am

One of the two. If the first is true then WHAT THE HELL ARE THEY DOING PRESCRIBING SOMETHING THAT PUTS MULTIPLE PEOPLE IN MY HEAD AND THEN WHIRLS THEM ALL UP IN A TORNADO?

Ie they are TRYING TO SEND ME MAD and I'm dropping this methadone script and scoring on the street. At least then the government aren't controlling me.

It's all a con. Everything in life is one big giant con. Don't be taken in or you're even sadder and more lost than I am.

Illustration: top: the cyclone or tornado ~ ask anyone who's been to The Top and they'll tell you about this; black pepper/strawberry icecream ~ these are for Melody


MAMAS AND PAPAS: CREEQUE ALLEY
no point sitting about in a sour mood might as well put on something decent



THIS is how I feel when depressed, look under the second column: hypersomnia etc
http://www.angelfire.com/home/bphoenix1/uni.html

After The Real Good Sleep

O I FEEL STRANGE. I wouldn't mind being depressed. Well actually I would. I would mind it very much. I specially wouldn't mind being UPUPUPUP UPPPP!!! But I'm neither thing. I slept somewhere up to 18 hours last night. The smoke alarm is going crazy and I'm thoroughly enjoying it + pissing off my neighbours. It's off now.

I HAD to go get methadone as I slept so late they were about to close. So I got it. In the foulest of moods. Got ONE pizza in Morrisons where some idiotic foreigner was trying to feed a £50 note into the self-service machine. If I'd been a little more whateveristic I'd have told her "darling nobody in this country accepts a fifty. They're either faked or they think you're trying to pass off a fake. Take 20s. Or use 500 euro notes." Then I had to buy cherry cyder and some Pole who was even more averse to showering than me (and that's saying something) seemed to spend half an hour buying about 7 items of weird unclean porkfilled Polish food.

Then I got home. No cigarette papers and frankly I'd rather look behind my bottom drawer for a stray one than go outside again.

My oven is going nuts as there's still burnt tost in there from yesterday (that I forgot about till it was past incinerated) along with the tex mex pizza.

So I'm buzzing in a vague "just been on coke" type way. No it's not the heroin. Heroin doesn't make you buzz; it's a downer ~ it just helped me sleep not far off an entire 24 hours.

And I feel shit. So what's that? I'm not going to any appointments. Oh shit some bastard is coming round my house tomorrow well he can see it as it is I ain't doing shit for no-one.

What is it Baino you don't believe I'm psychic? I'll try and get you next week's lottery numbers? OK??

Right i gotta go I've only had 2.5 cigarettes today. I don't want any heroin it didn't make me "high" (does anyone get a high off heroin? What's it like? Feels like normality to me...) anyway the PO was shut by the time I woke up.

Shit I suppose I'd better clear the worst for this support worker git. Sure he's NOT on my side. All they do is try and con you these people. Right I'm off.


MADONNA: FROZEN

Heroin Abuse Update

WHAT ON EARTH WAS I DOING EARLIER? Answer: heroin. I took it because I was miserable and it worked. Sheer unconsciousness. 2nd stab and I was in. Pushed the dark brown popy juice straight into my lower right thigh, held the leg up to the ceiling, which I have to do with my legs; the circulation is so poor; within 30 seconds I felt that unfamiliar poppy-crap feeling doing stuff I don't need to body and brain. Within 2 minutes I was in my bathroom slumped over the sink wondering what I was doing. I needed to go out to get my cherry cyder to potentiate the heroin so I did (not that the heroin needed making any stronger...)

Each £10 bag (2 for £15) contained a tiny lump which didn't even smell B I thought "what is this? The usual ripoff!) then I cooked up and smelled something but it still looked to me like a dark dye was in the mix. I didn't bother taking it in 2 and wasn't bothered about overdosing so I took it all together and it knocked the living crap out of me. I couldn't even tell you it was fun as the days when strong heroin felt like fun are long gone. It wasn't as heavy as 7 valium blues I had last night it has to be said, but the unconsciousness was probably deeper.

Which is why I left in the blog-nonsense I typed when I repeatedly gauwched (rhymes with crouched: means "to go into heroin-induced stupor") at the computer. I thought I'd show you what heroin actually does.

The other thing it does is barely anything and that's when you get tolerance to it as anybody who takes enough for long enough will. Even when I was on £100 a day (only for a few weeks) I never got that out of it. Perhaps because I was speedballing my heroin with crack (another £40 a day) my tolerance shot so high. Speedballing means you drop crack into the cooked up heroin or simply cook together and get an intensely powerful IV hit. When I had money my snowballs were "15 and 5" meaning £15 of B (0.4g at the time) and £5 of crack (0.1g at the time). This was a few years ago when drugs were stronger and deals more generous than nowadays. The heroin-coke mixture is intensely addictive and very difficult to stop doing. Even when I reduced the cocaine contingent to £2 against £10B I still couldn't give up that "sparkle of coke" as I called it ...

I haven't the slightest intention of using again tomorrow. I got better value when I was spending £15 a day on DVDs. Least I have a slew of movies to show for that! Tonight, when my wooly consciousness cleared out a bit, I put on The Aviator with Leo DiCaprio and Cate Blanchett; he reminds me of me: repeating over and over the same words. That's something I do when I go cuckooclocks! Did you know that OCD and bipolar mood originate in the same area of the brain? Makes sense that when I had my mini nervous breakdown as a kid. I launched from my "I'm dying of cancer!" depression direct into "I'm contaminated!" OCD. I was uncomfortable turning on taps. Doors I opened with elbows or feet or waited for somebody else to do the opening; noses were revoltingly contaminated. Snot comes from noses and snot was vile.

So you see this started in childhood and nobody knew what was in my head. Even when they asked, I could barely answer: I wasn't brought up to express my feelings (as, let's face it, children weren't. Not until the present day and age when kids seem to have all manner of conduct disorders and oppositional-defiant issues to contend with.... My extreme "compliance" as Dr Smartarse (the one I would gone crazy if he dared treat me for my present problems) left me as an adult with Vast reserves of self-control. Without such self-control I might easily have done something truly stupid during my "I'll clean my house with kerosene and matches" urges in more extreme phases of mania. So you see I have nothing about which to be bitter against my parents. Neither one made any mistake I myself wouldn't make with a child of my own.

I have my parents to thank for teaching me right from wrong, which not all parents seem to do. So when I turned junkie I was a dirty desperate junkie, but not a vicious one.

And I'm still a junkie today. A methadone junkie perhaps, who picked up heroin yesterday. But I know what I want and I don't want heroin. As my own saying goes: Even when it's good, it's shit. And that's heroin for you in a nutshell. In Marianne Faithfull's words: "A big waste of time"... Illustrated: opium sap; yucky brown Afghan heroin (proper gear is talc white); an obviously faked-up photo as no junkie ever draws up a hit of B without carefully filtering!

SUGABABES: SHAPE
originally by sting; way better by these girls
ignore the ad at the beginning

Heroin in the House

I NEARLY FORGOT WHAT I'D DONE because I found myself standing stuporose at the sink not understandi-wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww {and I fell asleep pressing the w-key!}

I scored heroin earlier because I got a call on Sunday promising the Best "dark" in the //////////////////ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd

now do you see the problem with heroin? It makes me tired. I cannl''dddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd


IF YOU THINK I'm the kind of pussyman who's not gonna tell you I've had a teenly little lapse, banging up 2 £10 bags at once you still don't get who I am. Not that I get it an3eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

I'm leaving this post as it is. I shot up about 0.3g ie a £15 deal intl my right calf; was direct in the vein; pushed in and got Instant Fkxatklllllll[[[[[[[[[[[

see what I mean? so out of it can barely type English. So it's staying like this. Just to show how cool heroin is.

Really cool. I'm so glad I took it I can't even remember taking it as such. I just have felt incredibly sleepy since banging up And I need my sleep; so thats one thing: I'm sleeping like a baby in this dark blue armchair.

There's no filter. Nothing saved. I did this in oneaaddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas


it's now 2:44am; I began writing this around 9

and those me sleeping at the keyboard nonsense-letters had to be edited by 90%: sent the machine screwy


03:05 hrs I'll update properly later. This guy does 2x£10s at £15 and they're STRONG. My body's not used to heroin any more; hence the nonsense keyboard-gauwching

05:20 hrs; let's have some music (I'm awake now)

ALL SAINTS: PURE SHORES
soundtrack from movie The Beach

Chez Valium Marilyn

WE DID some shit where she was turning her house over TV burglar stylee trying to find this post office card for her and temazepam for me. At first I thought she was shamming the temazepam one but she did come up with a whole load of empty temazepam 20 strips which we had to check carefully in case she'd done a me and left one in there, but nothing

why the hell did I think I needed temazepam? I don't NEED to sleep. That's a human weakness, sleep. The more you sleep the lower you get. Also sleep repairs the body so the less you sleep the quicker you die and turn into a Proper Human Being ie an energy discarnate being. Which is what I want to be anyway I hate having a body. Why do you think I liked ketamine so much? Puts you out of body (out of mind for that matter) best drug ever for those interested in hanging off the edge of the universe not even knowing you are "a person" with "a name" and "a life"... it feels awful weird when you come back and realize you're you and who you are. That's the ketamine trip: WAY superior to acid where you have to deal with a million and one buzz killers like people you don't want to deal with, keys, money, going home etc. On ketamine you're lying on the floor in the dark in the recovery position and whether anybody else is there or not is immaterial as you're tripping right into outer space alone. FAR FAR FAR better than LSD ever could be.

How did I get on to ketamine? O yeah because it makes you forget your name which I do when I'm out of it. Or did last week the week before when people were talking about me and I kept going "who?" they were in the front seat I was in the back thankfully I kept my big mouth shut and didn't say "who?!" aloud. Or "are we going to a rave?" which i kept thinking all the time as I felt like I was off my tits on E. Hadn't taken anything, just a yummy manic thing going on as it is now.

Well I told Mar how to get her replacement PO card, complete with phone number 08457 22 33 44 wow I actually remember something. My mind has become dangerously seive-like lately I barely seem to recall anything of any technical nature at all. E.g. what people's names are. I don't know why as it's not like I'm senile is it. Or drunk. Or on drugs. Or in drug withdrawal. Just to spell it out to anyone STILL convinced I'm on drugs. I'M NOT ON DRUGS I only take methadone (prescribed) and the odd sleeper (not always prescribed). And no I don't take 8 at once at 3 in the afternoon. That's Valium Marilyn's style, not mine. And she complains that benzos make her depressed. No wonder. A benzo "high" is you FIGHTING AGAINST the effects of these fuckers which push you down, so you're struggling against them, otherwise you'd conk out unconscious. Not much of a high is it?

She gave me a whole load of food and £1.30 which is enough for the cherry flavour mandy cyder I drink now: 4.5% alcohol in half litre tins. It has to be flavoured like soft drinks to destroy the alcohol association otherwise it's going to be harder to stop altogether. Plus you can water flavoured stuff up with more soft drinks which is what I'll have to do in the very end.

I hope she does actually sort her card out. She thinks someone else has it complete with pin number and is terrified this bastard will take out all her money at 00:30 hours when it clears. (I know the exact time because I used to call my dealer at 00:31!)

I was on such a buzz when I left all the good things are happening now. Things sound weird, I have 2 voices in my head both me speaking out of sync, Valium Marilyn was talking in my head all the way down the road. My mood is peaking and my head racing like the clappers. This means I'm in a REALLY good mood now. No wonder I couldn't sleep. My crappy body might have wanted to but my mind needs no sleep whatsoever.

Walking home felt so good. Now I've drunk that cherry rubbish and it's brought me down. Alcohol is a depressant as they lie. Yes it is associated with depression but heroin is a CNS depressant too and that's ANTIdepressant in its action. The misery of heroin addiction might be exacerbated by heroin's mood-flattening effects too. I never felt much of a buzz off life when I was on heroin until the later years when I suddenly realized a few times that I was buzzing so much (on a coke-type high and this after I'd not had crack) I couldn't stop talking rubbish to my hamsters. I know I must have been buzzing now, because I kept talking to them when they were dead. Not that I thought they were alive, I mean the crap I used to say to them about being "furry and small" and "really tiny" with "poppy eyes" etc etc etc was totally ingrained in my head and I just wanted to say furry furry furry furry furry furry furry actually "furry swine" was my favourite one then I said that in German and it apparently means "furry bastard" and nearly caused an International Incident on my Deutscher Blog.

Well I can't explain my cuckoo clock life. I'm just really glad to be like this it's SO FAR BETTER than boring old normality I just cannot explain. Why do you think I keep saying I don't want to sleep? Because it will depress me and I've been depressed for years (so hopefully I'll be high for years now to make up for it!) and because a psychiatrist's idea of normality appears to be lying miserable in a bath of cold water feeling like shit but judged to be OK because you can still blink and breathe. It was psychiatrists who said methadone was a suitable treatment for heroin addiction so I don't trust them at all. Giving methadone to a heroin addict is like convincing a normal human being to take those science fiction food pills they always thought we'd pop in the 21st century. One tablet a day fulfills all your nutritional and calorific requirements. Tastes of nothing and leaves a growlingly empty stomach but you're not lacking energy. Well that's what methadone is to heroin. A very poor substitute. And the reason why we have such full prisons. Even the addicts think it "should" work and they "should" do better, not realizing they're treating an addiction to substance A with substance B and oral methadone has nothing to do with "NHS" and everything to do with puritanical governments who think addicts deserve misery. No other condition, medical or psychiatric is treated with one drug only (when literally any of scores of opiates or opioids could be used in substitution.) Imagine you're freezing cold and someone says to you here I've a raincoat it's 100% waterproof, try this. And it's paper thin. And you say "but it's not raining, it's freezing cold" and true you are slightly less exposed but it's nothing on the floor length fur jobbie you're used to. So they say OK try another layer and you're double waterproofed but it rides up at the sleeves and leaves your legs exposed. But it's a coat. And a fur coat is a coat. But they're not the same. Neither are heroin and methadone. It's unacceptable to be miserable and craving on a treatment that supposedly cures drug addiction. (Methadone has a success rate of 4% frankly I think that's an exaggeration I cannot believe it's that high. I've never known a single person I know stick to methadone without constantly using on top and I've never even heard of anyone I know reducing off it to nothing and staying off drugs. Ever.) They used to give out injectable methadone which would at least leave you miserable with needle marks and given you the buzz of injecting something. But injectable methadone is many times more dangerous than diamorphine so why not give the real thing? See: an utterly fucked up policy. I don't want injectable diamorphine for myself, but everyone else needs that or pharmaceutical smoking base or morphine tablets (which will make you feel like you've had heroin without the initial buzz of taking it) these 3 will do what electric cigarettes, patches and nicotine gum do for smokers. Replaces something tarry and dirty with the pure stuff. As it is, they're replacing a Rolls Royce with a rusty bicycle and wondering why people just will not ride in the rain.

REALITY CHECK: GIVE ADDICTS HEROIN.

OK I'm off. Sorry not to tell you anything gynacological. If you want to talk about any shit you like, just leave a comment. I'm open to anything today.

I don't know what this says by the way. Just ignore it if it's rubbish. If I edit I'll never post anything at all.