I dont know why...

I DON'T KNOW WHY I was so intersted in medicine last night. Talking about being better. That is one thing I have never known how to be. Well.

Skip the bit in italics to avoid today's anti-methadone rant.

That is why I must make myself a fortune, the biggest one possible and leave taxatious British soil to keep my money safe. I'd rather live in Switzerland and pay for heroin therapy than here and pay for nuclear weapons we're never going to use (if I were prime minister I'd nuke any foreign power that annoyed me), overcrowded prisons and ineffectual methadone programmes. Though ineffectual and methadone together is tautological. For most people most of the time (that is for long-term addicts) methadone is ineffectual. According to a friend of mine 60mg of methadone drunk is equivalent to £10 of good gear injected IV. It took me years to realize this person was absolutely right [it only became true after about five years' heavy heroin]. Anyway that's the methadone rant over.

Safely skipped? And now we'll continue. I feel dull and empty. I decided to be a Great Poet and to be worth a hundred million euros cash. A decent house costs over seventy million which is frightening. A decent London townhouse. I think I would move out to the country and live in a Swiss Disney Castle, y'know with turrets.

I can't think of any other positive thing to say. How does a bird learn to sing, except by hearing song? I'm surrounding myself with culcha until it comes out of my very pores. Then I can be a culcha vulcha and make a living spouting crap. No heroin works on me any more even stuff strong enough to knock me unconscious, it still doesn't work. Doesn't hit whatever spot it used to. I can only put this down tothat risperidone, it is a psychic insulator. With one psychic insulator already in place, I don't need another.

Now skip the next paragraph.

You know that manic phase was the best I have ever felt, despite the craziness of it all. How sad is that. That I can only feel good by being drugged or mentally deranged. But it's true. I've never ever felt OK when I was normal. Yeah I've been passable but I was not OK at all as nobody can testify and nobody ever will after I'm gone. They will all lie about me. Because they will think the person they saw when I was depressed (even mildly depressed) was somehow me. No. The true me is the manic person who would xxxx xxx xx xxxx xx xxxx xx xxx. That might be a character flaw but at least it makes me colourful and not dull. I can't live this way trapped in eternal mediocrity I was never meant to be mediocre and I hate mediocre things. I hate things dull, dowdy, quiet and tuneless I like bright and glowing and rainbow and blue and full of music. I like power. I like feeling power and energy. Everything that has happened to me has drained me of power, lack of energy makes you ill, that's what sickness is. Either a lack of energy or energy misdirected within the system.

That's all; goodbye.


Illustrated ~ limes: sourer than lemons