you know you are an addict when … the time it takes to find a vein is more than double the time you are high
all I could think was “that’s what my insides look like.” burned out, abandoned, alone, forgotten, sad and yet a wonder of “what must it have been like?” and “it must have been so beautiful at one time!”
i guess it was, I can’t remember any more
i hope it was
Dean Steed (via fuckinq)
unless u are the dead flower. know that fall comes, things die so that others may grow
"I just had a V8"
Fuck me, I hate shit like this.
One (that would be me) can know this in his (me again) head. But if one (there I go again) does not feel this in his (yep still me) then he (duh me) will search in the bottomless, endless, soul sucking barrel of approval for the rest of his life.
At least so far.
I look at this and think “Damn, that looks like so much …..” well I was gonna say fun
Not so much today. huh?
It used to be a lot
I was different then
Before they changed me
Before I set the ball in motion
Now I am in motion
Don’t know where it stops
Lanes are clear
No one here
Not any more
Do you ‘spose it has to be this way…
At the end of the road ?
Bloody and jagged; spent and shamed
Only you left to hold the flame
With a world waiting to help that you only blame
Can’t, won’t, don’t STOP!
i, too, sang the blues
i don’t known how old i was or exactly what year it was when i first saw the 1972 movie lady sings the blues with dianna ross (who incidentally gave the performance of a lifetime) I do know I was well into my mastery of alcoholism because at least 8/10 times i watched the movie i was fortified with an arsenal of booze. (crying is always so much easier when you are blotto)
the draw to the movie was the music. i loved the music of billie holiday, sarah vaughn, and diana washington. i used to lay on the floor of my apartment with a stereo speaker at each ear and a liter of whatever singing with her about all my troubles. little did i know.
now the what happened; that is absolutely clear in my mind. the what being that i stopped breathing..literally. not once, but twice, I found myself literally holding my breath.
the first time I held my breath was the scene where a strung out billie holiday (ross) attempts to apply lipstick with a very shaky hand. it’s clear she is trying so hard to keep her shit together and “look” like she is ok at any cost. its a moment of pleading with the universe and perhaps a silent bargain “if you will just get me through this…” of course, no matter how hard she tries, everything is askew; her crooked lipstick a ironic twist to drive home the point: ms. holiday has a problem.
and who can forget the scene in the bathroom where a desperate billie, no longer worried about how she looks, struggles to get a needle in her arm so that she can stop shaking, stop the voices that are screaming inside her head , relieve the pain at any cost. ms. holiday has more than a problem. ms. holiday is a junkie.
so why? why me? why did i hold my breath? yes the story is tragic and yes ms. ross delivered an outstanding/real life performance. but this was something much deeper. it was instinctual. it was automatic. it was uncomfortable.
i think what i saw that day was a glimpse into my future.
I believe it might be a little too late for the Twelve Steps. May you Rest In Sobriety.
Old City Cemetery in downtown Tallahassee, Florida. October 2013
Watch the video of us wandering around there at www.youtube.com/TogetherWeWander
the stepford sisters of perpetual sobriety will tell you 100% abstinence and white chips and god are the only fucking way
just do less harm to yourself than you used to
for me it was using clean needles and less dope (most of the time) and get the on net … there are tons of models to help
you don’t have to die to do drugs
you don’t have to be abstinent to deserve love and respect either
keep strong babe
lately it seems what i say is either heard differently by others or maybe i am so disconnected from the world that my lips move to say something and i hear only what’s in my head, not the mindless dribble that omits from my lips. if only one person had said something to me about it, i might shrug it off but the votes are in and it’s pretty unanumous.
it’s even to the point where occasionally i have a detailed conversation with someone only to find that the words i spoke never got further than my four legged friend beside me. i think they call it “psychosis”, “delirium”, “hallucinations”.
drugs will alter the psyche. i believe it. in fact, i am proof of it.
in my life and in my work i am the master communicator. i remember what i say and what other people say in great detail. i am the “go-to” boy when two are in dispute because i can repeat, re-phrase, catch inconsistencies and re-frame with ease. the very career i chose (maybe it chose me) was based on those skills.
but day after day after day after day with out a break from party central …that will do a number on a person. it’s a combination of chemicals, sleep deprevation (in my opinion even more debilitating that drugs), poor nutrition, isolation and lack of socialization and minimal mental stimulation. i know this will shock some but 12 hours of porn does not a brain cell build).
remember i said i’d talk about the good, bad and “ugly” of life with tina? well this is part of the “ugly”.
it’s the end of a cycle for me. it’s that time when I “get to the point” (pun fully intended) where i can’t stand sticking one more needle in my already sore body. it’s the point where the money goes so fast and lasts so few days and i am sick to death of being broke or robbing peter to pay nobody ‘cause we all known paul never gets paid. it’s the point where i cannot deny that who i see in my pictures is but a shadow of my former physical self I (and i’m one of ones who eats). it’s the point where i’d just as soon live in complete isolation than let one more tweaker through my front door. it’s the point where even i can’t co-sign my own bullshit one more g-damned day.
i’ve talked enough about a break to have dictated “War and Peace” three times over. i put it off when I lost someone i loved deeply to cancer. i put it off again when i was horribly betrayed. then i put it off after the loss of a couple of close friends; the irony of course is that they are likely gone because of the “extensions” themselves. i guess this last putting off has been about not wanting the hell of coming off again. that said, the hell of keeping going is a far worse alternative. i used to think there was a bottom with tina but i don’t anymore. i think it’s just a state of being suspended in a perpetual erosion that has no end that she brings us to.
here’s the miracle. a couple of months ago, i had myself “scheduled” for a break but didn’t really WANT the break. today, i WANT the damn break. and you what? my WANT of the break is light-years from my breaks/stops of the past. for me to break, it used to have to look like this:
a 17 day stretch with 2 3-hour naps and routinely pushing .5’s and missing family vacations. that was a crisis. that took yet another stay at the “spa” (aka treatment) to arrest.
here’s a miracle for you….it does not take that kind of crisis any more. instead “messy” (ok pretty damn messy) is enough that i call uncle. who knows, maybe next time (there will be a next time- guaranteed) “messy” will look a little more like “pain in the ass”. for some that bullshit …for me, that’s fucking amazing!
and as the bonus price:
it’s highly likely that i will start making sense to people when i talk ..especially when i include them in the conversation!
but give me a couple of weeks to get thru the sketch b4 you hold me to that, ok? :)
its the god’s honest truth
and exactly what i have been doing for weeks
i am normally a very organized person…i pride myself on it..i get paid handsomely to do it for work
but lately, my own life, well you could say it looks like an LA freeway at 5 on a friday afternoon..and if you did you’d be kind…..it’s actually worse
it started with the death of my father and from there i added cup of “forgetting” about a situation that was pretty damn traumatic only to put a pinch of friendship fallout (better make that a cup too) a dash of “sugar” (better make that a pound) and about 75 sleepless nights and here i am
i am ready to stop “un-living” again
i am just not sure who is there to greet me as i go back into the world
and i want to lay down on the floor again for a very, very long time
I would trade my legs for the knowledge of what to do in my life
that would suck if you then gained the knowledge that you should be an olympic runner
you knowledge will come with the process of growing thru the years. when you are 20 you will just be glad u are not 30 at 40 you will hit your stride and at 50 redefine your life.