I HAVE DECIDED that I talk too much. I am wasting my energy and giving nothing to anyone. Just boring them. So I’m giving up talking.
I missed NA last night because I was at a flat full of junkies. Hard-faced junkies. They smoke heroin on a crack bottle. Why would you want to do that? They smoked and smoked away. Nobody offered me a pipe on the crack they were doing like there was no tomorrow. Not in a million years would I have accepted. Crack without heroin is like butter without bread. Sugar without tea. Paint without a wall to go on. Useless. And that is why I don't do it anyway (the central uselessness of it, wether or not proper "B" is also there). But it would have been nice to have been asked. Also when these two came in they never said hello, it was instant dislike from word go. I never said hello to them either. One came in talking about a “drum”, which is burglary. This particular crime raises my hackles. I’m talking about domestic burglary more than commercial. Maybe that showed all over my face and put frost in the air. Who cares anyway.
Yes they had “heroin” but there was barely anything in it. 10% of the normal strength, if that. I’m on methadone. I have a constant level to measure against. I’m telling these people they’re being ripped off and they don’t like to hear it.
Also I don’t think they like the way I say I’m not interested, really can do without. I had on me £20 I’m not spending on drugs though I don't think they saw it; I say how I could do with a Valium, but I will not buy them. Because I don’t like the person selling them, will not give him my money and cannot be bothered to walk five minutes out of my way for it. I really felt like a Valium too because I felt ragged as hell. I shlucked back seven or eight cans (White Star, 0.5L, 7.5% if you really want to know how much I drink). This is far more than usual (these days). I used to get alcoholic blackouts, so I must have been drinking quite a lot. I often still drink for breakfast, but by late evening I’m soberer than most judges. (Which probably isn’t saying much.)
Sometimes, these days, I’d rather have a cup of tea.
But these people, I don’t have a downer on them personally just because not all of us got on; I’m thinking of them more as “types” ~ just go on and on and on taking crack, rubbishy heroin they’re incinerating on pipes (getting even less than they paid for, less than you get off tinfoil even, which is about half). Take any drug they can get and pay for. Or steal. Or take on “bail” (which is just a stupid way of saying tick). Drugs drugs drugs. And endless prison talk.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m as severely addicted to heroin as it is possible to be. In my worst days I needed heroin to sleep, to continue sleeping, to get up, to get through the day. And most especially, to eat. Without heroin life was intolerable, and still is utterly meaningless. Heroin was and still is interwoven into the very fabric of existence. I am a needle-wielding junkie.). If my body lets me down and I am determined to fix up I will happily spend an hour or more and I will find a vein that behaves. I will go in my groin when I have to (when meaning times future, not now. The deep femoral vein, which is on each side, by the crook of your top thigh. That is your groin. Girls as well as boys can do it. There I will go if I have to. I just don’t wanna stick a whacking great needle straight in (straight down, not at an angle, like a plane taking off) straight in the top of my leg. It’s horrible. But I will do it if I carry on. I have will power. I have will. And I have will not to continue the road I have gone so far down. If you’re wondering why I waver so annoyingly, all through life, that’s the nature of the beast. Heroin is life. It doesn’t feel dirty or sordid. It feels fluffy and clean as fresh towels. Everything is OK. When I used to be on it most intensely, the hit in the evening especially, when I came back sodden and rattling with change after begging for hours, was like life itself flooding back into me.
I came home with some. Got 0.1g for £5. Was complained at for getting “good deal” (it’s not a good deal, it is the bare minimum weight you should get for £5).
I didn’t use it. I fell asleep. Slept through the ordinary time I’d take my methadone (5am, so when I get up at 7:30 or 8 it’s full-on). Woke at 6:35 feeling like a block of ice. That’s about how bad withdrawal gets on methadone. It’s not sickness as such, just a lull in the body’s methadone level. And it is natural to feel cold in winter. Perhaps not with the heating on.
I don’t even know what normality is now.I do know that if I have methadone, I never wake up feeling cold.
Anyway I went for my drink. The walk got my blood moving a bit. Nothing to do with feeling healthy and warm. I wanted to bring a vein up. Got the vein more than an hour later, when on Everybody Loves Raymond, Deborah was being arrested for drunk driving, even though she just fell asleep at the wheel, waiting for a lift from mad lady’s bridal shower. This is the 2nd time I’ve seen that episode in a year.
I couldn’t tell whether I just missed or the “heroin” was rubbish. Bit of both. I did feel better 10 mins later, so there was something in it. I drank my methadone after 10am. Spent £10 on American (second hand) hardback Andy Warhol Diaries, not heroin. I’ve only been ringing one dealer who I know won’t answer.
I will not ring around asking and sounding desperate. No, no. Yesterday evening occurred after HE rang ME.
Phone rang twice today. First time ,I ignored it. Second time, a withheld number. O no, if it was a dealer I knew which one it was and all I could think of was the hassle of testing (free ~ of course) gear for him. No no no. If he’d wanted to sell it, I’m not sure I had the right money and haven’t looked. And didn’t want to be bothered walking to post office. No. Even if the drought gets better I cannot see that it’ll be proper stuff straight away. People will think it’s pukka because it’s strong and new and wow, actually has more than 2% purity. But I bet it will be weak. I’m getting far more money’s worth out of Andy Warhol. Though I gave up skimming it a couple of hours ago when the urge to die just engulfed me too much. I feel profoundly miserable and now I’m in bed.
Why do people hide in an alley, till a woman in high heels comes clopping through, and then rape and murder her and dispose of her body in mysterious ways? I always wondered why people do that. Is it because there’s nothing good on telly?
Must run. Cyder bottle empty.
Having Pakistani takeaway tonight. Not from tandoori house; from Iceland. Their Chinese chicken satay (masala-style, not on sticks) (£1.50) is really nice with their own chicken fried rice (£1.50) or egg fried rice (£1) ~ especially after an MSG overdose has been stirred into it, to make it especially “Chinese”. I’m trying the Pakistani without. Chicken bhuna (£1.50) and pilau rice (£1). Indian restaurant standards in the UK are far higher than Chinese, so the bar is high. But their satay chicken egg fry rice + MSG (1-2 large pinches in each container, stirred well and left at least 5 mins) is far better value + nicer than the local Chinese takeaway. + the staff don’t talk over your head assuming you don’t know they’re calling you a deadbeat smackhead. I know when I’m being talked about. Must ping. Pilau rice ready for oven.
Think I'm gonna try this one without MSG.
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