Just another Anic Monday

ANIC SHAMANIC. NO PANIC. NOT MANIC.

I slept for hours and hours till 3am then answered Buggalugz'z commment. Buggalugz has hammies. Robohammies, like I used to until they died and went into a cardboard box.

I slept for hours and hours got up 10:41 can't tell how many hours as kept waking up when it was dark, raving in my sleep, waking up again, feeling like I was on an adventure holiday, acheing all over wondering if I'd fallen off a horse, gone skiiing where did I get all these aches and pains? What have I been doing. Oh yeah I'm "ill" people who are "sick" lie in bed so that's what I did lay in my huge hammynest.

Then I got up fully engergized so energized I couldn't keep still at the pharmacy, had to walk half a mile and come back because Methadone Bird was being slow slow. Where did I go? Alcohol shop. Then I went home. Washed me. O yeah that was before the methadone. I did the hot moving bowl of water by the door thing. Space by the door. Slow slow careful wash of entire body head to toes. I know it's not as good as showering but there is no bath and a bath gets you clean when you lie there an hour and towel down all that skin comes off. Never happens in a shower. Showers make me so bright red from all the scrubbing then it hurts. Prefer a bath, me. So I washed, did that, then DOWN THE NEEDLE EXCHANGE with one black sack full of crapparse tiny sinbins and another bag with a tower-block shaped yellow one. No-one paying attention. One pharmacist talking crap about grams and drams someone else taking a shelf apart. Spare me. I left them at the till and vanished. So done that. Needles gone. Wahay!!!

I saw Valium Marilyn as she's intent upon obtaining Valium, I said I only wanted zopiclone. I am prescribed zopiclone. Zopiclone makes me sleep. I don't WANT to abuse drugs, why the hell should i?

I felt better today than any other day. Finally I am at a level. Although my head WAS bingbongtingtonging I was able to play with it and not get sucked into it, the way it does when foot is on the accelerator: instead of wind in the hair it's into a sound-vortex. Ultra-intense. Now I'm flying high and clear. Way better than before. My body is sore but I don't care for a body.

I gotta clean something up for someone else. Doing it in my own time, not out of time. Wednesday is a big day. Wednesday I'm going away to a psycho doctor and a psycho headshrinking thing. That's my big day. Tomorrow is Clean Day.

And I'm fine. I don't want to come down down down I will only frown frown frown and be a total waste of space. Waste of time. Why don't the government kill addicts and mentally ill people? They could save a fortune in taxes? I'd vote for myself to be killed. Never mind generalizations, I'm talking about me here. I'd vote for that. Would have voted for it over methadone, any day of the week. Less EXTENDED TORMENT involved. Ah! But they want us alive and suffering, so we do ourselves. That's probably it. I'm glad the Tories are in, at least I can call them Tory Bastards, even though I HATE LABOUR MORE and would NEVER IN A ZILLION YEARS VOTE LIBDEM. I hate all politicians. I'm the archetypal floating voter. Too central. Love saying "Tory BASTARDS" not voting. If forced to I vote green (who I loathe, when I look at their jealous, sour policies whether or not they're out for saving the planets they hate people who want to be Rich and Behind High Walls (only point I can see of being rich: cut yourself off from the world). So that's my views on politics. Be rich. Pay low taxes. Give money to charity. Choose your own charity and do not be taxed. And have an NHS that is the national health service, free for all.

{If I were actually tied down and forced to vote I'd give 3 Xs before I voted green, green is a v distant "if I absolutely have to" choice politicians deserve... lots of things I won't mention here... They SHOULD INSTITUTE THE UNIVERSAL PRESCRIPITON OF INJECTABLE DIAMORPHINE TO ADDICTS for one thing...}

That's it bye!!

Music comes later.

Illustrated: tiny furry robo (roborovski) hammy; tired yawning tiger; psychedelic psycho-tiger ~ this one forgot its methadone and the pharmacy's pretending to be closed. Note the missing bottom right tooth.

Dank

I CANNOT SLEEP PROPERLY. Last night I thought I'd take a sleeping pill (temazepam 20mg), to set my sleep cycle earlier. So much for good intentions: it only made me high. As good a high as heroin. (And very much an acquired taste. Nobody but a junkie could ever feel the blurry, rubbery feeling of benzodiazepines as a "high".)

Still I didn't sleep. I found myself online in a blur. Eventually I got pill number two. I felt rubbery and dizzy and hazy ("high") as I stumbled up to get it. So I decided to be all responsible and bit it in half. The extra 10mg only took over as the previous 20 peaked and faded. An hour or two later I took the other half. Still wide awake, but in bed. If I'd have slept I'd have slept with the computer in my arms, like an electronic baby. At some point I took a third pill, a whole 20mg. My thought process had gone haywire by this time as I left a garbled comment on my own blog (yesterday). At least in my jumbled-up state I had sanity enough to clarify this is what part of me thinks...

Last thing I remember was realizing it was 6am and being distinctly displeased about that. Then I slept through past 4:30. Got up at 5. Ran down the chemist with an hour to spare.

People kept calling me this morning on withheld numbers. I suspect 2 different callers as the pattern of rings before hangup was different. The dealer usually rings a long long time, leaves it then rings an hour later. This person rang and rang a few rings over and over. I wish people wouldn't withhold. When I find out who it was (if it was my friend) I have to explain NOT to do that. The dealer will ask me to jump through a hoop, expecting me to wag my tail and enthusiastically woof "how high, master?!" He wants me to test a piteously small amount of free gear, knowing this would (ordinarily) prompt a phone call within 30 mins asking for a £20 bag if not a gram. This one charges £40 on the gram (too much). A weighed gram always used to be £30. Or £35 tops as 2x0.5g £20s. (2x20=no more than 35 in addict maths!)

In the last few years I noticed the price sneaking higher. I had only one dealer who did giant bags, weighing 0.6 or 0.7g for £20. These were full of B (brown heroin) and packed with lovely benzos as well. It was a £10 hit on one of these that made me miss my friend's funeral. I woke 2 hours later realizing I'd missed it. Then I slept for 12 hours straight. This gear was beige but went midnight black in the works. I tested benzo-positive on a test-card I obtained, hadn't been at the Valium or any other pills. So I knew it was dodgy B setting this off.

Checking my text messages set off the craving that inspired all this junkie information you just read. I got 2 offering 4 bags for £25. Another one saying great new stuff. All this from "Mr 0.6". He's just round the corner. He's also the one who sold me the very last lot of gear I ever took, 3 weeks ago yesterday. £15 bought what looked like 0.4g of crushed paracetamol, cooked up without any vit C and contained a yellowy heroin solution full of mindblowingly potent downers. These downers wiped more than a week, maybe 2 weeks from my memory.

So I could have run round the corner and scored. Instead I glugged my methadone, which was due anyhow (strange how a due methadone dose and heroin-craving coincide, even though methadone's not on my mind). I also popped a temazepam. Well it is Xmas!

What is this? Yet another day without the Killer B? I can't believe it.

I don't exactly feel marvellous, but I am surviving. Just. In a blank, disengaged, not happy way. I'm still here. I only wonder how I will ever move from here somewhere better.

Now the drugs are climbing on I don't want gear so much. Drink, temazepam, methadone. I'm still an addict to my core. An addict who doesn't use Heroin is like a bird that can't fly. I think I'll turn into a furry animal instead. A tubby great hamster, curled in a ball down its burrow, sleeping, slumbering, drowsing all day long.

Pets, past and future ~

These are some pets I'd most like to have... and actually have had.

FURRY FRIDAY ON SATURDAY


Akitas are one of the oldest pure-breeds of dog in the world. The American Akita was taken back from Japan by American troops after World War II. It is bigger and furrier than its Japanese counterpart. Whenever I see one down the local park, I want to kidnap it. One came up and stared me right in the eyes. I was down on the grass, so we were eye to eye. She just stared into me. Very intense. Akitas are loyal and dignified and very Japanese. Similar in character to Alsatians or Rottweilers. They are used in Japan as police dogs. I have never heard one bark.


An idea of their size!


The puppies are well known for being savage and wild. This is pretty obvious when you take a look at one:


My favourite little dogs are Norwich terriers. If I got a small dog I wouldn't care too much about breed. The type I'm on about tends to show up in Rescue Home catalogues named "Scruffy". If you've seen "Scruffy", you know the dog I want. Every animal shelter has a Scruffy.


Chinchillas look like rabbits from Mars. They need a big cage, a huge wheel and a "marble", that is, a stone slab you can stick in the freezer for them to lie on in summer. Chinchillas come from the high Andes and do not enjoy temperatures much above 75F, 25C.


The best pets I ever had were roborovski hamsters. These come from Mongolia. They're a totally different breed to ordinary hamsters (2in/5cm fully grown, pingpong ball-sized when curled up). They are the smallest and fastest hammies in the world.


Unlike ordinary hamsters, which fight when kept together, robos are highly social. They sleep in a heap:


They do everything together. But they're easily startled, don't tame at all easily and don't like being handled. They ping off on the floor at the first opportunity, have taken me 2-4 days to recapture. Imagine a wild house mouse on speed and you're still not close! Aren't they cute ...

WISHING Y'ALL A CHARMING WEEKEND. IF IT CAN'T BE CHARMING, THEN MAY IT BE TOLERABLE.

Hammy in winter ...

YEP, winter is upon us. Creeping up, closing in. Darkness surrounds us. It's in the air. The aroma of bonfires, the stench of death.
Autumn is my favourite time of year, being the time golden hamsters are at their tubbiest, hamstering away a gargantuan hoard of goodies to last all winter through.
As the days grow shorter and colder, so the wild hammy gradually gets more and more lethargic. Eventually he realizes the time has come for the Big Sleep. Carefully he barricades himself in, blocking all burrow entrances in case a naughty poisonous snake slithers down the tunnels while the tiny tubby is "torpid". (Hamsters don't technically hibernate.)
Then little hammy goes into a deep sleep, breathing only a few times a minute, as his body temperature falls. Every 4-8 days he wakes up for long enough to bumble out of bed into his bathroom (hammies never wee in their bed, if you've ever kept one has a pet you'll remember they usually use the furthest corner opposite for wee-wees). Anyway he does a wee, then his tubby bum vanishes down dank and mysterious pitch black tunnels deep into the lower depths of his burrow. He returns football-faced, pouches packed to their furthest extreme with a face-full of goodies upon which he nibbles till sleep overtakes him yet again.
When the burrow warms up, hammy re-excavates the burrow entrance and ta-daa! A bright springtime world full of daffodils and bumblebees, warm breezes whispering through the leafy trees. Harvest mice and dormice and woodmice are all scurrying in the bushes. Hurrah! says hammy, fresh seeds! And off he pings into the sparkling sunshine.

EVA CASSIDY: AUTUMN LEAVES

Stabbed with a pear in the house of the dead ...

I AM READING NOTES FROM THE HOUSE OF THE DEAD, a cheery tome by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, author of Crime and Punishment, The Idiot, The Devils, The Brothers Karamazov (which my English teacher dubbed "the most boring book ever written") and The Insulted and Injured ~ I'm sure the authors of modern misery memoirs are peeved to find that particularly evocative title already used up!

I had some drinks this afternoon and sat under an electronic posterboard leafing through the cheery tale, which is set in a Siberian hard labour camp.

Dostoyevsky's characters ~ murderers, alcoholics, gamblers ~ remind me of some of the junkies I have met in my time ... I'm not saying anything else.

I googled various topics concerning Siberian labour camps and came up with a page from a school punishment book, detailing how many lashes of the cane various miscreants received for such crimes as stabbing someone with a pear(!) and grave robbing~(!!!) Am I badly misreading things (you can click on the picture to enlarge)~? Or was the world even crazier in Victorian times (or whenever those whippings are from)..? ~ than it is now?? (Surely not!)



I thought I would invent some comedy crimes of my own ...

The only sample offences I could come up with were:

Allowing school hamster to grow too tubby.

Allowing goblin to chase school hamster ...

I don't think I'd have done too well making up school rules in the dark ages, do you?

COMPETITION TIME ~ roll up and give your guesses, educated or otherwise, please! Tell me WHAT LANGUAGE ARE THESE SCRIBBLES WRITTEN IN?

Answers in the commentary box, if yer please...

PS the end of my HAMMY AND THE GOBLIN tale of wonder is coming soon. I bet y'all are yawning with excitement!

The Common European Hammy

FURRY FRIDAY


The European hamster Cricetus Cricetus is the biggest hamster in the world, standing one foot high on his haunches. His belly is black. He is very easily surprised... especially if he thinks a goblin is chasing him!


Common European hamsters live in Central Europe and West Asia. They love packing their pouches. They build deep, complex burrows with living rooms and special chambers for food storage, bathroom, bedroom and hibernation chamber. "Oh!" he says. "I hear a goblin!"


"Can't see any flying goblins...!"


"Where is the goblin? On the ground, you say..?"


"Hi there!" Casual hamster-style...


"Oh no, the goblin's back!"



Video: Common European Hamster Family
See how even baby hammies have varying personalities.
One is calm, the other won't stop pinging into that bush!


WISHING YOU ALL A WONDROUS WEEKEND!

Escaped furry lightning bolt

HERE is yesterday's escaped roborovski story translated into English.
I am going to open a German blog very soon I promise y'all.

When I had roborovski pygmy hamsters, I lost them a couple of times... akh! Two entire days and not a sign ...
Then, after midnight I saw something tiny, like a furry pingpong ball with eyes, that shot across the bedroom like lightning and vanished behind my bed ~ the swine!
Roborovski hamsters are the smallest and fastest hamsters in the world. No wonder I couldn't catch her.
Finally I threw a bedsheet over her. She was extremely unhappy, and went back to bed in the lightbulb box with a thunderous face :-)

The main illustration isn't a roborovski at all, but a cream coloured Syrian hamster, which is about five times bigger... but I just found the picture entertaining...

Snowing in London ...

YES IT'S SNOWING HERE... again...



... far as I know, it went on snowing all night and this morning we were in winter wonderland ...



Hammy couldn't resist burrowing out a little nest INSIDE the snowman...



This is apparently a natural 12-sided snowflake..!
(Do you believe it?)



O yeah and Casey Johnson (seen here centre) , crank-calling would-be reality star (turned down The Simple Life with Paris Hilton and that Nicole Richie psycho got it instead) lesbian heiress (to the Johnson & Johnson pharmaceuticals fortune) died of an accidental DRUG OVERDOSE ...

Vanity Fair obiturary ...
Original 2006 Vanity Fair interview, in which she revleals her nasty character ...



As old King Solomon said: there is nothing new under the sun!



MY bling quiz is still open. Roll up! Roll up! Answers please!

Brrr III

THERE'S SLUSH EVERYWHERE



Pavements are still slippery.
(This picture may come from New York.... ahem!)



The Trotter Donkies dream of long days in summer meadows...



Hey I thought MY name was Trotter Donkey!



I say, Mummy! Can you hear the chipmunk squeaking at us!?!



Hey we were called Trotter Donkies before you. And we've been in a donkey derby!



Talking of snowy donkies...



... don't freeze yer ass off!



Wah wah waaah!!

OH FATHER ~ a lovely wintry video from Madonna: