More Music

ROBERT MILES: FABLE



... Robert Miles reminded me of my favourite ambient artist of all time...

ROBERT LEINER: VISIONS OF THE PAST



ROBERT LEINER: TO PLACES YOU'VE NEVER BEEN



EastLondonGirl was trying to find me a track called The Sensation 1993 Part 2.
Nearest I came to it was this donked up thing:
JURGEN VRIES: THE THEME (DJ QUICKSILVER DONKED UP)
do you get donk clubs~~??~~~where you go in and it's donk donk donk allnight?
my kinda club!

Roobarb and Rhubarb

THIS IS FOR 2 PEOPLE: SPINDRIFT, who was born the year before me, and lives in Melbourne, Australia (very near Valerie, the multi-hudred-kilo housewife heroin importer complete with Margaret Thatcher helmet hairdo)...

and LIZZY-D, who is a psychiatric social worker from the wilds of London who has fond memories of Roobarb and Custard and Spiral Tribe...




Rhubarb is a sweet vegetable that looks something like pink celery. It grows at the bottom of English* gardens. To make rhubarb crumble you boil up the rhubarb until it goes soft and not at all sour or bitter. Then it's perfectly lovely. And Mr Kipling makes pretty wondrous Rhubarb and Custard pies...

"ROOBARB" was the name of the original TV series which ran 30 5-minute episodes i 1974. It was never, according to Wikipedia, known as "Roobarb and Custard"








ROOBARB
original opening sequence and theme tune ~ very catchy!



In 1991 the catchy theme tune came back as a source of triphead entertainment for the "Rave Generation". Roobarb and Custard was also the name of a type of pill, reportedly containing MDMA and phenobarbitone....

ROOBARB AND CUSTARD
A mishmash of old tunes remixed with a donk thing. Which I quite like....



ROOBARB & CUSTARD 10 min mix
one of the commenters on Youtube said it sounded like a 3 y/o mixed this...
but still, i like the tunes



URBAN HYPE: TRIP TO TRUMPTON



*Do they have rhubarb in America, or not? I thought it was a very English thing. Now, having clicked my rhubarb link, I'm not so sure....

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)

Ever Decreasing Circles

16:24 I JUST READ BACK the miserable post below! I was wondering at myself for using such extreme sounding language about wanting to kill one part of myself and the other part taking over...? Now I realize despite having labelled it not at all relevant (hmmm!) ~ that what I read was actually my drug addiction speaking!

In addiction the three year old child rules!

In my madness the adult takes care of the child. The child plays, but the adult remains in charge. This is the case even in severe schizophrenia. I know a couple of schizophrenics; both are delusional. Both are on compulsory once fortnightly depot shots. One goes absolutely loony-tunes fruitloops when he's ill. And I've only seen him "half" ill, and that was ill enough for me. He gets so bad police have to pick him up for his own safety to hospital which he declares is "worse than prison" (how bad was the hospital or how cushy was the prison? That's what I wanna know!).

But even with these two, the parents must be in charge. Otherwise they'd get in far more trouble than they actually do!

This is what's heartbreaking about drug addiction. It's the only mental or medical condition I know of where your Lower Self (for want of a better expression: I don't know what else to call it) where your baser motives rule over you. You find yourself running with a different flow that is exhilarating as it is scary. Suddenly you can do whatever you want. And whatever you want is more-more-more of your drug of choice ~ probably heroin and/or crack. The people I hung around with were heavy IV heroin users. When we had £10s we bought a £10 bag (each). £15 bought £15. £20... £25 (3x£10) £30 (2x15 or one gram) £35 (2x£20) £40 (3x£15) £40 or £45 a "sixteenth" (1.5g) £45 (different dealer) or £50 a true sixteenth (1.75g) and so on. Any amount, in £5 increments was covered by one dealer or another.

Our entire existence revolved around getting money, phoning, waiting, meeting, using using using sleeping, up with a jolt "got to go to work" running to the begging pitch money money money phone bus wait score bus home (home was a disused factory at one time) candles burning: use use use. Sleep.

I had nightmares nearly every night at one point. I woke up laughing or screaming around this time, a lot.

Wake up in a blur. Same old same old still ever-going-round day.

I nearly always had drugs and/or money when I woke (carefully shoved in one sock) because I organized myself well that way. Unlike a crackhead, a heroin addict knows for sure they will need to use the next morning, so they make sure the ways or means are there. The idea of going sick was unconscionable. I hardly ever went sick without knowing a bottle of methadone or a few DFs weren't stashed somewhere and could save me. [I would rather wait for real gear, save the medication for absolute, utter desperation...] As junkies go I was an organized junkie.

So what happened? Over a period of years I lost faith in myself. Lost courage, lost energy, lost the will to go on.

I thought I wanted to die: perhaps I wanted to clean up.

Methadone never really worked for me. A day on methadone was a day of visceral misery punctuated by frequent trips to my chest of drawers for hits from ever-weakening twice-thrice-four times ~ here's a new bit! ~ filters.

It sometimes annoyed me that the drugs clinic appeared not to have the faintest idea what I meant by "craving". I meant "I will pick heroin out of dog shit and use it" I meant "I will inject a crusty old scab if I think an old heroin filter lies in the middle". I did inject my own crusted blood once. Made myself sicker than I've ever been, physically. I got a dirty hit so dirty I could barely walk the next day.

In the end I just got tired. "Sick and tired of being sick and tired" as they say (another NA expression). I don't think NA are my Saviour. I think I am my Saviour. God is my Saviour. NA are a tool, like a screwdriver that tightens a sqealing hinge. Apply your own oil. NA have a purpose, that purpose is to keep Addicts clean. So I use them what they're there to be used for. You don't spend £100 on a train ticket to Glasgow then expect it to fix your leaky roof. Likewise I cannot confide to a roomful of NA members my mental condition. I have a Nutter Club on Thursdays for that. I try and keep my ears open and my expectations reasonable.

So here you have it: me being positive.

I'm sorry about earlier, to anyone who was bemused or pissed off. I was merely letting off steam!

*******

18:28 I just googled someone I knew from uni, found him. It stressed me, made my head go fast-ast-ast-ast-ast like that-at-at-at-at echoing-oing-oing-oing-oing-oing which is not the same as the hearing words echoed, that's hallucination; this is thought smashing fast enough into itself to break into trailing sounds. Those antipsychotics are doing something. They keep me physically calm; I noticed that earlier today. When I'd otherwise be pacing or even dancing they keep my feet literally on the ground. How bizarre. And caffeine doesn't have such an "illegal" effect on TWO cups of tea or coffee, any more..!

*******

ACEN: TRIP TO THE MOON iii
Thanks Lizzy o yeah I remember this. Do you know I'd head of "trip to the moon" but never knew it was this one!




Illustrated: ever decreasing circles sourced from The Games Blog

I don't know who I was yesterday... who will I be tomorrow?

"... I DON'T KNOW who I was ysterday... who will I be tomorrow...?" only time can tell that one Gleds!

Now it's 04:42 hours; I've been up since 3. Ursula le Guin, author of The Earsthea Trilogy, is on the The Interview, BBC World Service radio. She's talking about the last Yahi Indian, whom her father knew (he learned Ishi's language from Ishi to communicate and tape down all his stories and knowledge. Ishi Ishi was the very last of his tribe, the last speaker of the Yahi language and Ursula Le Guin's Dad learned this language. This is fascinating.

Do you like the top illustration? My mental state! The second one's just funky triangles I found. I've updated my sidebar with some tunes I do actually listen to now. Moby Go, Urban shakedown Some Justice, Joe Beltram Energy Flash and Praga Khan Injected with a Poison (my anthem, that one... "there's a rainbow inside your mind... injected with a poison... we don't need that any more" well said!!

Well I'm going to ping off now. I only wanted to post some more music. Here's Moby's Go. The proper original video mix as well ...

O BTW for me really but in case anybody wondered why I posted up Trisch Li manic a couple of weeks or so ago, it's because her behaviour is so strikingly similar to mine it's unreal. She's like my sister!

MOBY: GO
official video. l luuurved this tune



MOBY GO {JAM AND SPOON DUB MIX}




GOOD MORNING LIZZY!
MORNING EVERYONE!
hOW ARE Y'ALL?!

06:38 BBC Today Programme is doing a report on the Heroin Drought and low street heroin purity.
SOCA claim that as well as poor growing conditions in Afghanistan, the cause is more dealers and importers being busted. SOCA also say the wholesale price of heroin has doubled to £40,000 per kg (ie ridiculously high)

Midnight Music

02:58 I've been up since just after 1am, meaning not much more than an hour or so's sleep. I need sleep (far as I understand it) not to set myself off more. Here are some lovely garage links for those into parking cars... the music [of today] is more reminiscent of the rave music of my youth, with a funkier beat on top. Quite good really. I prefer a lot of the newer stuff to the classic garage I've been posting up. If I can find a good tune or two I'll post it up.

GARAGE: this is the station I'm listening. With these things it's usually the later the better. When I woke up at midnight it was pssssht-ta-clonking pleasantly ~ Love FM Live

Melody here's that other garage track I was telling you about. I prefer the no-video version .... this classic track from the mid 90s doesn't have that rave-sound I'm talking about that's new; this is old

ROSIE GAINES: CLOSE



ROSIE GAINES: CLOSE
this is a funkier pirate radio edit, note the lovely authentic needle jump at the beginning!



JOHNNY WHITE FEATURING MY ROBOT: DESENSITIZE
bizarre track, excellent video "be careful if photosensitive epileptic!"
i love this



SCIENCE LAB: FLESH AND BLOOD
Old techno from the hardcore rave era. I used to love this: the quotes are from Shakespeare's King Lear

Slept/drum & bass/jungle/hardcore/cleaning/shopping/etc

I THOUGHT I WAS running out of energy, having spent most of the night awake, then pinging down the chemist for my methadone, then going home, then having a black coffee for energy (physically tired), then another coffee, then having the most fun cleaning I've ever had in my life. Then feeling physically like I was on speed. Then feeling like I was going to have a panic attack.

Physically exhausted, I put myself to bed, saying "you are ill, and you are mentally ill, lie down, this will pass" ~ so I slept the expected two hours till it sounded like Loose Women or Doctors was on (different channels; couldn't have been both) ... I put the covers over me like a tent and slept some more, aching all over and genuinely feeling ill. Then I got up feeling so hungry I was sick. I seem to have lost a stone in weight: or the scales I found on the street were inaccurate. I've no idea. [One stone is 14 lbs or about 6.5kg.]

This evening I did some irritating little things I had to. Then shopping. Morrisons supermarket. Tex Mex pizza. Best ever. The self service till was like a robot at a hardcore rave. Please please scan (an) the next itemplease scan WAIT FOR AN ASSISTANT!!) lots of fun. And that pizza is amazing. I only had chips (which are Iceland American style curly fries (do they actually have curly fries in America? These are lovely). Then Holby City (hospital drama) came on. I missed EastEnders.

I'm scanning the radio for decent pirate stuff. The drum and bass they're playing sounds a good 17 years old! Proper Ragga Jungle. That's what I'm looking for.

Drink is down to 2 cans at 7.5% ABV ie 1 litre. It's up to 85p a can! Will this torment never cease??!! Nah, don't wanna be a drinker all my life. The alcohol is GOING!

Now I have to not drink coffee, which I appear to be hypersensitive to. I mean this was full on speeding on TWO cups normal one heaped teaspoon. Coffee has never been quite that strong before. I mean, this was physical, hence the anxiety. The highest hyper highs I have had have been totally out of sync with any coffee drinking. E.g. the Mental Hospital Day ~ hadn't had a cup for five hours. Had only had one or possibly two. Don't need caffeine. Nicotine has to go as well. Cigarettes are a terrible poison. Why should I be dependent on outside drugs to poison myself.

Now I have to finish what I barely started that is clearing crap I don't know what is relevant or not. No I'm not allowed a flamethrower, which would make clearing up far easier. Yeah yeah highly irresponsible I know so it's boring old chucking out. Let me indulge a fantasy once or twice. So now the hunt is on for Proper "Old Skool" as they call it to make me feel ancient (ie hardcore rave 1991, 1992) or Ragga Jungle (probably won't find that) or ancient sounding but probably modern rapid drum & bass with an overgrown schoolboy running out of rhymes on top.

Traaaaaaaa!!!! How are y'all. See I'm not irritably ranting tonight. Clean clean clean and cleaner. Clean me clean up. Live a clean life. Clean and Serene. That's me goal ;-)



21:29 London Radio: Eh, the Greek stuff ain't bad...
01:22 hrs Love FM Live .com (lovefmlive.com) good garage after midnight

NA Serenity

I HAVE JUST COME BACK FROM NARCOTICS ANONYMOUS I will keep coming back. I explained my interpretation of the 12 steps, which are ways of shedding guilt, bad habits and excusese and making you a better person than when you went On Drugs. I said I came to NA for serenity. And I said I had been taking heroin as self-medication, that crack made me a mess, that I was very reluctantly taking methadone (and nothing else) and that taking illegal drugs is putting your happiness in the hands of a cunt on a mountain bike. I hope they get my point.

I don't do group hugs. Done them before, they do my head in. Eeeee was the "hug drug" so "hugs not drugs" means... confusion for me.

Gotta go wash again. Twice a day. With a bowl of hot water. I'm allergic to showers when the stupid showerhead won't stay where it's meant to be so you can't just Walk Under Hot Rain you gotta hold the stupid thing doing a bowl of water instead. Yeah I'm a living breathing 38 year old 3 year old. Got that bad. Least I'm attempting to take care of myself now. Someone has to, that someone has to be me.

Right I'm off, take care everyone ;-)


ALAN HULL PIPEDREAM (1973)
you have to let this one get going.... THANKS BUGGALUGZ!!



... reminds me of this one...
PINK FLOYD SHINE ON YOU CRAZY DIAMOND... Syd Barrat tribute. Syd Barrett who blew his brains out on LSD... bloody hell this is slow. In drugs terms, spliff-tokers' music ;-)

this one's bigger because the pictures change slide-show style... it's the original album version

8:40PM Calm

IT'S MID EVENING. I am trying to remain calm. I know I was ranting like anybody's business this morning and part of this afternoon. Feeling very euphoric and "grandiose"!! Yeah!! Fantastic in other words. Way better than I did any other day. Higher, yet clearer. And less bizzledizzle in the head (I can say that without my head going fizzle dizzle wizzle hizzle) OK it just did, but at a far lower grade. I didn't go into a vector cyclone thing where it takes me off like a helecopter flying into a spiral and out the other side, then touching down on top of all that energy, looking down on everything. On top of the Universe. That feels pretty good.

I'm half tempted to give a list of drugs I didn't take to get there. I do need to make one point clearer. If I mention my experience in terms of drugs or psychedelics, those are merely terms of reference. I never ever was an addict to those substances. I'd done heroin more times in my first month of heavy using (not my first month of using) than I ever did Es, trips and all else in my life. You need to get in perspective the AMOUNT of something taken and the IMPACT it has on you. Heroin has had near-zero impact. It only ever took stuff away. Gave me very little. Psychedelics give. Ecstasy gives. Whether the giving is good I'm not going into here, and I do have a policy of not condoning drug use. Describing, yes, condoning. NO! Live your life, do not use. I cannot think of a single chemical I truly think was "worth it". My biggest recurring dream re drugs was of temazepam, which used to come in yellow (or dark green) eggs full of gel (or liquid). I dreamed of rugby ball (that is an American football) sized yellow ones. I only ever took temazepam in the early 90s that was prescribed to me. So I was dreaming of my own sleep medication which my own doctor, who was the best GP I've ever had (had a rolling once a week appointment with him, that's why I wasn't raving ALL THE TIME back then I was really badly in a mess. The music was a soundtrack, I indulged occasionally, it made a big impression, I indulged again in the late 90s when I was more together, it still made me a mess, I don't do it now) ~ that's me and raving, Eeeeing, clubbing, party drugging. Yes I did it every week for a short while maybe a year or so. So when I feel really good of course I'm going to think of E, the drug which made me feel "like I'd finally found the pot of gold at the rainbow's end". Ecstasy also made me feel lied to. Like nothing else, including heroin, ever has. And I have also spent days lying in bed crying because I felt lied to, let down, and that the people who seemed so nice were themselves on E, I was myself, but we all had issues, sometimes deep-cut horrifying ones and I mean other people, not me that horrified me who didn't need horrifying. And the whole thing turned out into a mess with me hallucinating a good 24 hours after the last pill which MDMA doesn't do, I was scoring the same pills off the same dealer as everyone else. And I wasn't the only one cracking up and not coping come Monday morning. It was horrible to see. When I realized the truth, the real truth about clubbing, beyond the obvious fact that these were young people pretty badly overdoing it in some cases (not mine ~ I was just doing it and the little I did, usually no more than 2 pills... except the very end when it went past 5 then 8... that was over... 4 occasions ie 2, 2.5...2.5 (shit I'm lying I did 1.5 then 1 ie 10 pills=4nights out) ... and I was very well organized re timing etc. When I didn't want to take it I didn't take anything. Or a tiny handful of mushrooms. So few I wasn't "tripping" just had a euphoria you get off a tiny mushroom dose but not acid.

I can't even remember where I was going with this, and Im not spending all evening editing and obsessing. Other people can obsess if/when they want to. I'm not as obsessive as some people seem to think. I have ASPECTS that are.

Hey I found a different tune. It's slow. It kind of makes me want to cry. I don't want to cry about anything. Never cry about myself, it always mystifies me when people cry because they ... whatevered. Tears of giult I can understand. Crying because you hurt someone, I understand. Ha! Do you know what actually healed a lot of my friendships (in retrospect) was me crying when we were yelling at one another. These were friendships/relationships with the opposite sex. Didn't realize at the time they were probably touched.

When my friend Lucky died I felt nothing for a whole month. Didn't go to the funeral. I was in a mess. Had nothing to wear. Didn't want to face people I didn't know who knew her who knew when..? Banging on about her. She fell into frienships with the opposite sex that weren't sexual (or weird) she was nearly 60 they were probably late 20s or in their 30s and they did crack and heroin round at hers. Lucky's flat was a safe, quiet, peaceful place to go. I deliberately kept some distance as her friends seemed to last a certain time then vanish. (She was an addict: an expert at self-confusion.) Then she died, suddenly. It wasn't an overdose, she just dropped down dead, in front of someone else. The paramedics couldn't save her. She always thought she was invincible but I remember myself dragging her from her bathroom after she overdosed. The jolt woke her up, but in those moments she was gone. If you don't take overdose seriously you really are a fool. Anyway a month later I ran into her old friend who showed me the Order of Service from the funeral. I suppose the fact that he was carrying it on him said a lot. And then I cried. And cried and cried and cried and cried. I have never cried so much over anyone I knew. I hope wherever you are you feel flattered Lucky. I cried for you.

I wanna contact the living... not sure I understand this road I've been given...
that's it!



ps if you wonder why the unedited rants, if i tidy up when i'm extreme i'll get lost in the words, if i wait till a time like now: I'll make my own witness statement to myself into a lie, so I can't do it. The "worst" stuff IS who I WAS who I AM who I BECOME when I am like THAT.

Thanks Lizzie. For everything.

Energy

ENERGY FLASH!

IS this an energy-saving lightbulb of a tune... so SLOW. That's what hacked me off about Opus III last night TOO SLOW i want fast fast faster fast fastererr something faster than me. Which is hard to find as I was going to fast yesterday I was incoherent.

Somebody phoned me right while I was going into one big time. Not upsset. Just ultra hyper high high sky ong ong pingpongtingtong bong bong ongongong between uproariously laughing and doing a noise like a food mixer rourourourouround what what what what what? Who is this who who who? All that. What DO I DO KEEP IT SIMPLE.

That upset someone so much they CRIED WHY WHY CRY GO HI HI HI HELLO HERE NOW WHAT IS ALL THAT FUSS ABOUT

Well that's what happened. I feel like I'm on Magic Speed you know that ADHD stuff that calms people down. Note the LACK OF A FULL DRUG SCREEN* this is making me para that I got spiked somewhichwise. What can I do not to be spiked? Not eat? Not drink. Not ever sleep. Not ever let anyone near me. Not breathe the air as fentanyl gas can flood the air, as was used in the Russian theatre raid. I wished I'd been in there. Fentanyl is an ultra-strong opioid. I'd have got a real nice hit outta that. When I was into drugs.

Now it's just me on ME FREE (hee-hee!!)

[I'm adding this afterwards: re the drugs screen it wasns't "full" in that it "only" tested for Opiates (heroin/morphine/codeine etc), Cocaine (including crack), Amphetamines, Methadone, Benzodiazepines and THC ie Cannabis. Methadone is what I'm on!]

O man this wasn't meant to rhyme it was meant to be all cool and chilled and coherent. I did actually get 3 to 4 hours' sleep on that zopiclone. The minute it started wearing off I was BL-IDDLE-DIDDLE-PING-NG-NGGGGGGGG!!! AWAKE!!!

And raving in my kitchen. Raving mad. Dancing. Eh. At a rave, in my kitchen. At one time I found a knife I started dismantling a cardboard box then chucked it into a corner. "I AM A KNIFE-WIELDING MANIAC!!" that one thing was too much. Being a maniac and wielding a knife. NO!!!!

I'm not into headfucker stuff. Enough is enough. I thought I was OK then my mind started playing games or I started playing games with my mind and we both started racing together very very quick quick

(how can I POSSIBLY be on drugs? no drug ever makes anyone rush that fast. ever. only one to come near it (on me) is Hard Acid. And I do mean a full-on trip, tripping enough to have trouble with your name, to interdimensionalize so you don't know what dimension you're in. In this state the number of thoughts, impressions, illusions and all that can alter so very many times a second it's impossible to follow. SPEED DOES NOT DO THAT. NEITHER DOES COKE. OR CRACK. OR E. So what fucking drug is is?? Except 2 cups of black coffee. Yesterday when I thought I'd had 2 I'd actually only had 1. Cup 2 had gone cold, forgotten about as I pinged all over the place.

everybody thinks i should be in a mental hospital. everybody thinks i am mad. i am quite sane. i'm only going in there if i totally break apart, in which case i will need an ambulance i won't be able to get there myself

or if i'm so very hacked off and/or despairing or tired or just WANT TO GO IN it's not that terrible. it's GOING in i don't want not BEING in BEING in is fine. lots of people don't want to leave. why do you think care in the community is such a disaster? half the people don't get cared for, the other half do, but would rather be in a nuthouse because at least in there if you're going cuckoo there's not the headfuck of trying to have to inter-decide between howevermanylines of illusions and delusions and what is what from this that and some other angle what you should or should not be doing at any given time you can just DO IT. people who annoy each other have space to avoid one another. it is not prison.

there are no locked rooms. there are locks on the ward doors, mainly to prevent people wandering aimlessly outside, not perhaps intending to be there.

people who can organize, decide know what they want and why (and it's not self-harm or suicidal) are free to leave

other people who cannot do these things, they don't and nearly always don't actually want to.

the only locked room i know of is a cool-down room and that's in the ward for people who misbehave (that's basically why they're put there). in a mental hospital misbehaving means being violent to a person (not an object). violence to an object might well get you wrestled down and needled with something yummy like quetiapine or olanzapine or whatever

the last time i saw it i remember it was a patient who rushed across and told the nurse how many mgs of what shot to make up, i'm sure it was

the nurses come from downstairs or upstairs. other wards. they're probably on that duty that day, know they're free to go. the buzzer goes off so out and in they pile.

what was the point of all this? o yeah the entertainment of watching it happen. best time i recall was a bipolar pensioner with "the fbi want me as their number one spy" style paranoia. he was told he was "too high" though doing ABSOLUTELY NOTHING re racing about, rushing, kicking anything throwing ~ nothing except irritable if i remember correctly WITH A SPECIFIC MEMBER OF STAFF

it is possible to be psychotic, not by any means ravingly, and justifyably ANNOYED

anyway because of his paranoia this guy who told lots of funny stories about driving very rapidly up the motorway between London and Manchester, never getting punished for being bipolar (ie treated) until his 60-something-th year he said "i want a witness for this" M and I were more than happy to be witnesses.

we were in the smoking room anyhow, not smoking (for a split moment, that's all most nutters do) but eating m&ms I wish we'd had popcorn it would have been highly appropriate

so we had feet up on chairs, probably entertained looks on faces as the highly confrontational male nurses did their confronting

some bastard turned to M and me and said " you two had better go" AARKKHH ~~ kind of any thought of "but we were asked to be witnesses" went as indulging pensioner-paranoia was only an excuse. Entertainment was the reason for being there I think we all knew that. Apart from the paranoia pensioner who was spiked up so intensively he was snoring all afternoon. with a faintly guilty/bored looking nurse having to stand watch.

not because there was any chance he would wake up and do anything remotely "manic"

(despite the one female nurse's first words being "we think you've gone too high" (that ain't high. saw that at the time. know it now. bullshit. be psychotic and/or manic or paranoidly "ideated" as they say and ANGRY and you get this delicious treatment

which is no motivation but an attraction an "it's not that terrible" it's on that list

the "I will be made homeless" list is the opposing one as that basically is what shall happen to me if i ever end up in that nuthouse.

So I'm avoiding it like several plagues.

My reason. Not mine. Druggieworker's reason for my being in an emergency assessment had nothing to do with hospitalization or being sectioned (which means committed) it had everything to do with a trained doctor witnessing who i actually AM that is the point and when the other one said why are you here i said because I am in a mess and I want help and I need a social worker. That is what I need more than a hospital. A person who knows me and knows what absolutely irrelevant forms are informed upon me blah blah blah blah you see this is

this is my coping mechanism.

when something bothers me i smack it right out of my head. successfully.

i also smack stress and negativity (that is negative thoughts, not the feeling) OUT of my head.

i whack them out using no chemical at all. no heroin smack. nothing but the force of my own will gets rid of these things so i do not worry, don't turn anything over and over my head worrying. not my style

(as anxiety leaflet given out by nursey who HADN'T LISTENED WHEN I SAID ITS NOT ANXIETY (which I KNOW I once had it for years I KNOW THAT FEELING it's a gripping of the heart, a trepidation)... I felt IRRITATION which is like sunburn on your arm or any burn. You can stroke it with a feather and it's still IRRITATING and IRRITATION was my response to the world and my reason for avoiding it. And a feeling of overload. NOT anxiety.

and here's a point i can at last follow through 3 paragraphs. anxious thoughts you can SLAP OUT OF YOUR HEAD. irritation is not a thought as such, but a feeling, it's much less cognitive than anxiety

anyway this coping mechanism might also be my disability as something is stopping me engaging. i am disengaged. if i DID engage i couldn't cope. Engaging means engaging with stuff I can't deal with.

Geddit now?

Trying to explain makes it clearer in my head. I've got to know what I'm up against to be able to cure it. Get round it. Bend it. Change it.

See successful self-analysis. And my big "I DON'T NEED COUNSELLING" reason.

Counselling is too much too soon. Not what someone going 3691q3476t51234124097y076799900 miles per hour needs. I have had it before. I resent accounting my life to somebody i know nothing about. I "have" to do it. I don't "have" to do a blog I choose to. I might feel I owe people an explanation or an update because they are my freinds but I don't "have to go" because it'll look bad on some care approach plan form. Y'know?

Hope this hasn't been too rabbitty. I'm leaving it there. I am going to NA tonight but am TRYING to get there on time this time. I never know the exact time. Never know. Just get there. Usually late. I can't do anything on time there's too much in between.

OK I'm off now because my head is going too quick again. Bye!

JOEY BELTRAM: ENERGY FLASH
This 1990 tune was represented to me as "really old". In 1992.



FANTAZIA MAY 1992 "GURN TIME" RAVE FOOTAGE
gurning is pulling "high on stimulants" faces, characteristic especially of ecstasy-type drugs.

note a distinct lack of energy in that crowd. what's wrong with them all?? the less cheesy more abstract ketaminey 2nd tune is way better than the 1st one



DJ SEDUCTION STARLIGHT RAVE
this style of breakbeat + the "bad boy" crap the MC keeps up is the origins of jungle aka drum & base

wow this music is fantastic. breakbeat hardcore almost definitely 1992. it says it dunnit: 21st August 1992

1 min 50 seconds "ride the fucking rush" where the music saying followmewannabewhatever i wannabe THAT is the vibe of my brain insane ha hahahahahaha!! and 7 mins 7 seconds where its bleepy on top of breakbeat that is it that is itititititititit thatsit!!!



Illustration: Castlemorton 1992 huge illegal Spiral Tribe etc rave. Spiral Tribe were very abstract. Chaos Stuff which works better in visuals than music. True chaos visuals are screens of black and white lines or dots and your own mind makes the illusion. Doesn't work quite so well with music in my opinion

A pleasing aroma

I SHAT, SHOWERED AND SHAVED THIS MORNING. I look a hundred times better clean-shaven than my ordinary homeless look. I'm one of those folks who scrub up really well. Formal clothes really suit me. See I should have been born a 1920s aristocrat. I've got that "don't care" attitude down to pat already. When something goes utterly tits up distraught I call it a "mild inconvenience". I ought to be living in Brideshead Revisited. Unfortunately I don't.

And I know I shouldn't be negative, but I don't really feel any better for having cleaned myself up. (Should I?) I need to get some of that fake perfume from the pound shop. Their best one was called something like Code Green. It was pretty pukka. Unfortunately those cheap scents omit a crucial ingredient (I've no idea what it's called) but this missing ingredient makes the aroma wear off about ten times faster than proper perfume does.

When it comes to proper designer scent my favourites are Opium pour homme. Our local Boots pharmacy used to have this on tester. I showered in it free every day. Mother Hubbs used to say I smelled "like a French tart's boudoir". But it's better than reeking of BO. Opium Homme is the only male fragrance available in eau de parfum, that is ultra-strong formulation. I loved this stuff. And no it wasn't JUST the "druggie" name that appealed. (Incidentally Opium smells nothing at all like actual opium, which is highly acrid.

The other drug-oriented fragrance I like is Dior Higher. I love incense-flavoured perfume and Higher smells just like joss-sticks.

My favourite perfume of all time is Antaeus by Chanel. Several people have described this as "edible". It's absolutely sublime and like most of the best men's fragrance there's no female version.

Another one I like is Givenchy π Pi (the gold version; the blue one has a missing ingredient, it's just not as good) once the horrible aniseed top note wears off this stuff is really really nice.

If you're into something mellower the best stuff's made by Davidoff. Cool Water is like a vastly superior version of Joop.

If you're wondering how an inactive junkie like me knows all this stuff, it's because I did used to work and when I worked I wore proper perfume (as I call it, if you've masculinity "issues" or a tiny wonga you might want to call it aftershave). The designer stuff really is far better than cheapo alternatives.

My top tip for men's fragrance is NEVER EVER BUY AFTERSHAVE. Aftershave means marginally cheaper and VERY much weaker. It's a ripoff. It has nothing to do with shaving (you don't splash aftershave on your face unless you're a masochist). The best place for perfume is the neck. Or just spray it all over. Gift packs are good with the shower gel, soaps and lotions. If you shop about you can get these for the same price as the perfume alone.

•••••••

The music of my youth is now labelled "old skool"... how ancient does that make me feel! Here's three classics:~

WE ARE IE



CLOSE YOUR EYES (FORGET YOUR NAME, FORGET THE WORLD, FORGET THE PEOPLE)



DEAD DRED (WHAT'S THE TIME DRED)

In answer to some comments

THESE ARE SOME COMMENTS I got at my Gun to My Head post:

Syd said ...
If you know that you are lost and messed up, why not make a decision to be found and not messed up. If detoxing makes you hyper and pace, then detox while picking up the place and pacing back and forth with the bags of garbage and such. There is a solution Gleds. Look for the solution and not at the problems and why you can't do this or that. I agree with you that trying is BS. Taking good positive action with bettering your life would help you and help us who care about you.

29 December 2010 00:45


BeenThere said...
Syd hit the nail on the head. What you look at is what you'll see and what you look for is what you'll find. If you develop your many positive, innocent interests, and start viewing yourself as an instrument (for better or worse) you'll begin doing better. No one blames a hammer for breaking a window. Allow positive influences to motivate you.

We can all feel bad about stuff, or miserable with the state we're in - but it's all relative.

You've got in your states through not coping for various reasons. Every individual gets where they are through not coping in the way others think they should. We all get labelled. People deal with their lot in different ways. Bad mothers and fathers are just as human as kids who suffered because of them. They were also kids once.

Past sh*t is just that and should be flushed away. Keep stirring it up with a stick and it will continue to be a stink in your nostrils.

Too much time spent in self-analysis is wasteful, especially when your life is stagnant through drug addiction. Live a little and analyze new material. Delving into your sickness of mind is also a waste of time by now.Concentrating so much on that makes you sicker. Instead, wonder at how well your mind functions in so many ways, in spite of all the abuse you've thrown at it.

Perception of good and evil can be triggered by electrodes as well as by chemical abuse, as can various moods from joy to despair, from blind terror to uncontrollable mirth - none of which are "real".

When you dwell on the effects that chemicals or sadness have on your state of mind, you cause them to become a "reality" for you, but it is just your own perception.

You can change the way your brain is wired, takes about 3 months to a year - it has been scientifically proven. Bad tempered individuals have been able to train their behaviour in a way that re-wires the connections in their brain. It required effort, and they got headaches, but it worked.

You can develop a "can do" attitude to replace the "disabled" one which is not a true reflection of who you are, but who you have become. You are in control. Not the past, not the way you are or were wired, not alcohol,not heroin or any other drugs, and not your "loving mother" or any other people. You are not disabled in mind or body.You have family who love you. You are so lucky with so much to fight for.

30 December 2010 16:57


Anonymous said...
what about a normal picture of yourself?

31 December 2010 04:02


Gledwood said...
Syd: I did make a decision to be found and not messed up. HEROIN did that perfectly for me. Without heroin I hear fracture up, hear voices, dissociate and am prone to uncannily powerful (and not so powerful) mood swings. It's absolutely impossible to "Decide" not to be that way. That's WHO I AM. Come on Sid! I'm not saying that's a bad way to be. It's far better than being "normal". But not conducive to engaging with this world that is too shitty to bother with anyway. Ie I have an alternative coping mechanism that is FAR SUPERIOR to drugs, as it's cheaper, inherent to me and nobody can ever take it away


BeenThere: I'm not disabled. Only conventional thinking says that. I'm fine. The world is disabled. Their idea of reality is lying in a cold bath freezing feeling suicidal. I'd rather be who I am then who THEY think I should be any day. So that IS WHO I AM.

Anon: those pictures aren't me. I never have and never will post up a picture of me. If I did I'd close my blog and stop posting
3 January 2011 18:26

I think people are reading more into what I said than I actually did. Surely there is nothing unusual in having a more rational part of your mind who guides your person, divorced from your actual self who is what that person is...

I am quite happy in my own fractured way. Heroin was the best drug I ever found to hold my various aspects together. Still they did not make sense one to another. They barely communicated and why should they?

All the past week the experience I had when I "went crazy" came back at a lower grade. Every night and sometimes in the day I have been hearing voices. Hearing voices is good. Being lost and fragmented is a good thing. It means I am disengaged from the chilly misery of concenus reality. Being lost is good, because it means I am lost from what you might call reality, I call suffering.

I only think there is something wrong, not because I feel "bad" but because I know that by not engaging the supposedly responsible side of me is doing nothing. Hence the mess I live in.

Yes sometimes I do feel bad, that's a kind of depression. Sometimes I feel good. Sometimes extremely good. I don't care whether I'm hallucinating or not. Hallucinations put you in touch with the greater reality. If you're not hallucinating you're a poorer soul than me. You are utterly stuck in the mundane half-life people call Living a Life. When you're stressed I bet you feel bad. When I feel stressed, I often feel euphoric.

Where does this idea come from that to feel lost I must inevitably spend hours and hours dwelling on past events and misery? Did I ever tell anybody I did that? If you heard that, you weren't hearing what I say. When I say "I had depression since childhood" I'm stating a fact. I'm not delving into that depression, or whatever reasons might or might not be behind it. I'm giving a pure statement of fact. I barely EVER consider my childhood. I tell you I had depression since then as I don't flatter myself that every single reader of my blog should peruse every single post I've ever written and arrange them into a scheme. A lot of my writing is shortcuts for the new, the forgetful or those with attention spans such as mine: ie poor ones. Please read what I put, not what YOU might mean if YOU put it.

As I said before I barely indulge in self-analysis, except when, for example, constructing a timeline that explains the inexplicable. I have had to do this to be able to tell psychiatrists what happened and when. So very many times I've oversimplified only to be written off. Their how long probably means "when were the first signs and when did it taper away" ~ my how long means "what was the very peak of an experience". Two very different time frames. Only recently did I realize the confusion this has caused. Not that those headshrinkers give a flying turd what happened or when but I owe myself to answer accurately.

It's not natural to live in the plasticated world we live in. If I'm coping better with it than you, you want to ask yourself WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU???!

NOW LET'S LEAVE IT AT THAT!!

I want my house clean because it will get my pettyminded landlord and pathetic housemates off my back. The rest of my life I'm happy to go on living as a trip.

Life is tripping. Dreams are tripping. Consciousness is the ultimate trip. You do not need drugs of any kind to trip. I'm happy as I am. There's nothing wrong with me. It's the world who's broken and fractured. If I'm not entirely together, that's techtonic pressures of the world putting undue duress on me.

So thank y'all for those comments. "Disabled" is the box the UK Government's benefits system wants to chuck me and many like me into. I don't see myself as disabled. They do. So I'm only disabled inasmuch as they insist on seeing me that way. Just about the unhealthiest way of anyone seeing anyone else. I go through life pretending to be well. I never pull an "I'm sick act" unless I'm at the end of my tether. Then I realize, "hey the Government say I'm sick so who are YOU (e.g. my landlord) to disagree! The entire system is far sicker than I ever was. I know people with paranoid schizophrenia and the Government is considerably sicker than them also!

I will be fine. I knew I'd not be the same off opiates. Opiates gave an illusion of several spheres integrating into one person. You are all like me. You might wish to consider yourself otherwise but you are just like me. Set those spheres free. One day you may hear Music of the Spheres. And that, my friends, is SUBLIME.

Mental health organization: hearing voices

THIS POST IS NOT AN ATTACK ON SYD, OR BEEN THERE OR ANONYMOUS. DON'T TAKE MY RANTING PERSONALLY PLEASE, Y'ALL HIT ON A VERY PERTINENT NERVE

THAILAND, land of smiles...

Ko Pha Ngan Full Moon Party



Thai girls dancing, Ko Pha Ngan Full Moon Party

Happy New Year 2011

WE HAVE WORLD WAR III style fireworks going off on both ends of our street. Strains of Auld Lang Syne waft up from downstairs...

I'm not alcohol-free, but I'm probably sober enough to drive, for once..(!)

MAY THIS YEAR BE WAY BETTER THAN THE BIG-O-SHYTE OLD ONE!

VAGATOR HILL TOP (ANJUNA) GOA
2005 New Year's Eve (looks more like New Year's Day to me).
I've been here, New Year's Eve 2001:~<
The second tune is way better than the 1st



HOLYMEN: SIMON SAID
If you've been out all night (ooo you young people!) and require some psychedelic acidic visuals, have a look at this. One question though: what on earth are you doing reading my blog??
Akh, this tune has a weird oppressive beat. I just like the picture:

A good bit of cheese

NOW FOR A MUSICAL BREAK. THERE'S A TIME AND A PLACE FOR CHEESE. THE TIME IS NOW.


2 versions of each track. The one I like best is first each time.

Not every one has a video. So volume up. Hoover out. Shake ya arse.

The Orange Tune, I think, is the best. I remember eeing with my cousin to this one. Happy days.




RALPH FRIDGE: PARADISE: NU GREY MIX
I loved this one. Especially charged up on a good few Mitsubishi batteries
Hardhouse version



Tiesto was after my time because I was solidly on gear by the 2000s. He's good though
This one's trancier



OT QUARTET: HOLD THAT SUCKER DOWN BUILDS LIKE A SKYSCRAPER MIX
Has been described as the best house tune of all time




OT QUARTET Pop video version
forget that, here's
WILLIAM ORBIT, FERRY CORSTEN REMIX: BARBER'S ADAGIO FOR STRINGS
sublime!



CYGNUS X: ORANGE THEME, FERRY CORSTON MOONMAN MIX
Well named. Takes you to the moon and back.



CYGNUS X: ORANGE THEME
I like this video

On and on again

I CAN'T BELIEVE LAST NIGHT I actuallly sacrificed £7.50 on the altar of my own craving. (I am trying to behave: methadone.) I knew it didn't sound right, from the start. But dealers really do not know what they are doing now (I certainly wouldn't tell one he had good gear. Ever. Not nowadays. I use toned down language about "wasn't that bad, OK I spose" or non-toned-down language "What the hell was that?!?" (nowadays specially). It was dark, went black in the works. Person who took other half of 2 for £15 deal said "nothing in it. Possibly mild sedatives." But he is banging away at Suboxone, so perhaps no wonder. I tried it myself, well obviously. Left a bit on the filter (this is crucial, as you will see...) Bear in mind this was NOT "heroin #4" yet it cooked down without any vit C, and didn't look or taste like it had vit c in it. Tasted bitter (as liquid) but not bitter enough and not right. I could smell gear on it when I opened the bag. Afterwards I decided I must just have a sharp nose. Because there WAS some tiny bit in there. I got that when I did the filter and DID put vit C on it. The filter was x10 stronger than the hit! A flush of gear, then nothing. Like a 50p-£1 filter on very good gear. And considering my tolerance has inevitably fallen, that ain't saying much.
I put a shout out (I hope I was using the right words, Googleable words) in German, to anyone in Germany, Switzerland, Austria or anywhere else who could vouch the situation.
Germans, it took me ages to grasp, do not call a shortage a drought. Germans do not say something is droughted when it's not there. The word is Heroinmangel, as in going through a torture-flattener clothes wringer. Quite a good description in my view.
Was craving and craving away this morning. I'm glad I've left it. I have NOT been ringing dealers. I don't want to sound desperate. I enjoy tellling them I don't need their product now. They know me well enough to know IF IT'S RIGHT (in the past) I HAVE paid for it, so I'm burning no bridges by saying this.
That is my deepest fear, as an addict. Burning bridges. Ukh. Hate to do it. Was once advised in rehab to tear up phone nubers. No! What, so I can relapse and have to beg for them back? Pay higher prices for the same thing from other people. No. And the main ones (this was before mobile phones were almost universal as now) I remembered off by heart. I still know a good 3 or 4. 3 are still active. Or were, before this shortage. Apart from that, I do not know a single number off-pat. That's why I copy them again and again so obsessively. I know someone who lost a mobile phone with every main number in Hackney. No way of getting them back. NO!!
If there's no drought in Europe, there should not be one here and it will correct itself within weeks at the longest.
If there is a price-hike in Europe, there will be one here.

Britain is the strongest heroin market in Europe. I have known a lot of people (from the relevant countries) who told me facts that chimed again and again. I checked online and this is bourne out. In Britain gear is more expensive (nowhere near Swedish prices though) but stronger than in France (massively) Austria (massively) and still better than Germany and Spain. Even Holland at street level had a lower average purity, according to the website. The person I know who went there was in Dutch rehab, relapsed and, I suspect, in that state would be more easily impressed. He did say Dutch crack was way better (not difficult, nowadays. It's nothing like what it used to be. On a £10 pipe (one breath) I felt like my head was in a microwave on full power. My ears haven't even rung. And I haven't touched it in ... 2-3 weeks. That was only becuse I was helping out an annoying friend. The annoyance, stress, bad memories, vile feelings, wind-up ~ to the point of wanting to puke ~ etc etc outdid the crack high, even though I waited till I felt calm before doing it. Of course if he wanted it and was paying for it, I'd do it. I have not gone out of my way to get crack since I cannot remember when.
Well it's all gone drugs drugs drugs even though I'm not taking any.
For those of you looking, here's some dirty and clean blogs. They should all be on the sidebar, at the top with pictures is up to date. My side bar contains lists of every obsession I've had no matter how irrelevant to anyone else. Imagine you're poking through my diary/address book. That's the mess.

Now I'm out of here. 1.30 nearly and I haven't even been outside.
I'm tired of the day already.
To die, to sleep
perchance not to dream
Isn't that the ideal? Not to think/feel/remember/be thought of/felt about/remembered...
Or aware of in any manner or style of existence ever in past or future. And certainly not present.
No birth no death. No pain. Yes.

To any of you reading this with no script, not knowing what's going on, when it's going to change, you have my sympathy. The news is about 5 posts down, where all the comments are.


THE BLOGS
Anna Grace: I hate my face, I hate this place and I'm strung out again. I love Anna. She loves me. She crazy?? Went junkie-methadone-Suboxone. Declares she still wants to use. I tell her if she wanted to that much she'd do it and she hasn't so ...
Melody Lee is Damned: hasn't updated for ages. Not ODd and dead, so I hear (contrary to rumour). Bitch-fight, crackhouse etc stories v entertaining
Journey to the Nods. Noah. Black tar and Colombian white (heroin) user, central USA. Last post about driving the Tar Man to motels and various shacks for a free eighth (I don't think most London dealers would be so generous for one evening's work)
Memoirs of a Heroinhead: Shane in France. Who comes from London. Most recent post about doing gear and crack with his Mum is very "vivid"
Australian Heroin Diaries: not so much personal as a news blog. From Australia. About drugs. Well-researched. Terry is lucky enough to get morphine pills on the Aussie NHS. Says they're way better than methadone
Normal Life on Methadone: Mina. In Austria. Who is normal now and actually does normal things
An Addict in Our Son's Bedroom: has to tie with "Broken-hearted Mom" as alltime best parent blog-title (of 20somthing, not underage teen). If you want to read about the other side of addiction, praying to God your kid doesn't overdose in an alleyway, sick and tired of being hit for money, etc... the links are here. The Family Contract (at least most recent one) as well as giving in all wages to Dad, no association with old friends, ie treating their son like a big baby (but then again what else works, I think they've tried everything and found nothing) also included turning in dealers' numbers which will then go to law inforcement. I commented advising caution. (Surely as head of house, first responsibility is safety and wellbeing of household, not performing public service of giving police numbers/"names" they probably know anyway thanks to blabbermouth crooks. Decision was made so I did not bang on about ins and outs of it.)

BODYSNATCH: JUST 4U LONDON

Anyone remember this crazy tune?

e e e e !

The little person doesn't start dancing till around 55secs.

Sopranos Dairy-Mouse Tune ...

NOT A HUGE AMOUNT to say today... my actual post is trapped somewhere cyberlike half-done until tomorrow... I was writing about the future of the English language so you can either sigh with relief at being spared THAT one a day longer, or piss your pants in anticipation. Ooer!!

Here's a video from Marianne Faithfull ~ I really like this tune, it is from the "ovular" (non-un-a-politically-differently-incorrect (is that arcane enough? surely I'm PC now!!) contemporary way of saying "seminal"... it's from Faithfull's seminal 1979 LP BROKEN ENGLISH...

TAKE A WALK AROUND TIMES SQUARE...

MARIANNE FAITHFULL: TINES SQUARE
Set to videomontage...





I WAS SHOCKED, in a 4am rerun of Sopranos on Channel 4 (why did no-one tell me how good it was ~ I thought that show was daft comedy which is why I never bothered watching 1st time round, I mean what else can a man be, whose name is "Mr Soprano"..? Not a father, for one thing... I mean, surely, a male soprano is by rights a EUNUCH!!...

Anyway I was watching the episode where Tony Soprano's associate gets married and can only attend his own daughter's wedding on bail if he pays $400,000 for US Marshals to be at the reception with metal detectors and all...

... when I heard strains of one of my OWN SONGS being sung to the cutting of the wedding cake!
I don't think Andrew Lloyd Webber will be shaking in his boots, but this IS one of my most famous Hamster Songs ~

This is the song I used to sing Baby Itchy Roborovski when she was pinging up the clingfilm tube, popping out the other side looking "surprised" ~ as hamsters are so wont to do ...


Itchy's covred in fur
Itchy's covered in fur
She's a tubby dairy mouse ~
and she's covered in fur..!

How on earth did Hollywood TV producers get hold of my work?!?







IT'S ALL GONE PETE TONG
rhyming slang: "it's all gone wrong"...
Pete Tong was a BBC Radio 1 DJ, famous for his Friday Night dance-music round-up...
I've seen the film ~ the story is too true ~ set on the "British" party isle of Ibiza, it tells what happens when it really does all go "Pete Tong"....



GREGORIAN: VOYAGE VOYAGE
Here is a Gregorian chants version of yesterday's top tune by Desireless...
... ever so French!!



A no-nonsense video-edit of the same:



DJ YAHEL: VOYAGE (TIESTO REMIX)
This is a bit chilled out for my taste... and it's another tune entirely... but it's quite nice





What a charming little ro-ro!


Stop Press: $1800 for a baby Norwich terrier?... What planet are these people on?...
The United States of America!

PS: No Norwich terriers to be found this side of the Pond, but Norfolks are about £400, which would be $600. Look at this tiny trotter! Is it because American breeders are trying it on..? Or are the tiny terriers cheaper here because they're indigenous to this island and thus more widely available..? What do you think..?




THE HUNGARIAN MUDI
A rare Central European herding dog...
Anyone ever seen one of these? They seem even rarer than the elusive Norwich terrier!

Here's a blue-eyed huskie named Thunder having a little bay on his 4th birthday... and even doing some tricks!

Part 3

LONDON. CITY OF POSSIBILITIES. Arguably it is the Capital of Europe. When I came it was thee place to be in the entire world. London, to turn a phrase dropped by the Americans, was "swinging". Here they called it Cool Britannia.

Only I could play barely any part in this because I was ill. So badly run down I ahd to go to bed after a simple trip to the shops. And I could only buy one bag of shopping at a time, this I had to split in two, half in each hand, for the journey home.

I had a dull routine. As I say, of seemingly daily food shopping ... and that was about it. I did hit the West End a few times. But often, by the time I'd got there (it only took 20 minutes by tube!) I was too knackered out for any adventures or fun.

I battled on nonetheless and didn't even tell a lot of people I had "M.E." as they tehn iked to call it in this country. The M means myalgic ~ muscle pain; the E is encephalomyelitis ~ ie an inflamation ("itis") of the brain and nervous system. Basically it is exhaustion, (mental as well as physical), depression and constant low-grade flu-like symptoms; ie aching muscles, etc. At the worst times the "brain fog" as they call it, was so bad I felt like an old-style television when the aerial lead falls out the back. My brain was hissing with snow and all I could do was lie down, eyes closed, and let it ease up a bit.

Even when people did know (and they didn't really know how I felt. Actually nobody really asked) I rarely made an issue of it. Which caused problems with friendships. I remember someone having a go at me for cancelling a party (the party went on, only without my personal appearance. As if that was so important!) I felt more rough than usual ~ but as I say I was used to feeling rough. Only when I happened to take my temperature and saw it was 102F did I realize not only that I had the real flu but that somehow, on this occasion, my sickness was more justified. Because it was objectively real. Long ago I got my head round the fact that things that happen to me are not real when others fail to understand them. I think that is partially what is meant by the trippers' phrase "concensus reality"...

Anyway I had the flu and was very upset that I was ment to soldier on as I normally did. But when I chose not to a massive issue was made of it. Most people do not have to explain away not doing anything because they have flu. Being ill is enough. But not in my case. I'd handled the situation that badly that somehow my facts would not justify other people's matters.

Over the months I did go on a few big nights out. As I said: I soldiered on, did all I could to appear "normal" (I always thought it a bit sick to get a buzz from identifying oneself "sick" as some sick people seem to do. But that's another issue entirely. I remember being on the dancefloor, standing there as the party kicked off around me. Looking round at my generation ~ young, fit popel having the time of their lives. And yet, as I did so, I could actually feel the life and all my energy draining out of me.

One compliment I do recall receiving (if you want to call it that) was that I had never been seen drunk. Haha!! I always had the will, once I'd started drinking and felt the effects coming on, to check myself: "thus far; no further" and to keep to such self-appraisals. I hated being drunk. Associated it with the Toilet-Duck and crap smells of lavatory bowls as I puked my guts out. No way. Ukk. Drugs, when I took them, were always timed, dosed, planned. I took ecstasy maybe once over my entire first two years in London. Magic mushrooms a few times. Cannabis I vary rarely dabbled in ~ it just did not suit me any more.

This all changed one morning in spring 1998 when I opened the mail to find a free ticket to Escape From Samsara! Samsara means the Buddhist wheel of constant rebirth. But in this case it meant Friday night's trippy trancefest at the massive Fridge nightclub in Brixton, South London. My Australian cousin said she'd come with, couldn't make it; packed me off with a group of her friends anyhow. They were all cool people, my cousin's friends. They say a man (or woman) is known by his or her friends and I must say hers are a true credit to her. Nicest bunch of people I've met anywhere in my life and that's the honest truth ... Anyhow ... We went to this massive noisy cigarette smoke-filled club. I ddi take ecstasy again. Spent nearly the entire night in teh chill-out room feeling fantastic. met a girl called Lola from Melbourne who was about five years younger than me. Lola na dI went out for only ten weeks; but when the crux came ~ did I give up this sparkly new life of joy and celebration and go backwards or did I press on alone. I just resolutely went on. Queueing for massive parties on my own, yet knowing once I got inside there would be five, ten ... eventually twenty or more friends. A whole new life, as I say, but it came at a price. I was pretending to be OK when really I wasn't. When the pills wore off, when the wekend eneded, I'd have to spend days in bed, alone, recouperating. And often depressed and crying. These tears were a big part of the reality of the party life for a lot of people. Somehow they rarely got talked about.

AT EARLY EVENINGS MY LOCAL TUBE STATION became a gathering point for an entire alternative netherworld of crusties, drinkers and the misfits who roamed (and all too often lived on) the streets. Many appeared scruffy and rough yet somehow seemed free of some of society's constraints. They paid for this in poverty and pain. Gradually I got to known them because a prime source of nightly income came from sitting on the station steps and begging used one-day travelcards from the returning rush-hour, then selling these back to evening and night travellers for £1.50 to £2 each, depending on the time (there was an unofficial 9pm "watershed" when the price reduced. After 11pm it went down to £1.)

For one thing, the people I met on the station steps were far more personable than initially expected. Many were artists or "failed" musicians. Some were shockingly intelligent. (One guy in particular had messed up mid-PhD to become a homeless junkie. Drugs can affect anyone. Just don't take them!) I felt I fitted in with this crowd in a way I never had done anywhere else. For one thing I never pretended to be more knowledgeable or experienced in their way of life than I actually was, so they respected, I suppose that at least what they saw with me was what they got. Also it was OK among these people not to be feeling all right and not to be hapy. And yet to be accepted for how you did feel This, somehow, seemed a massive liberation.

I took up drinking on the station steps. At first it was nearly a joke: "I got drunk with the homeless 'crew'" (though I remained averse to actually being so intoxicated I was out of control). I began to dabble in their drugs. Valium, temazepam, the occasional Rohypnol; Dexedrine; crack and heroin. Gradually my useage increased in frequency from once a month or so, totally unplanned, to a couple of times a week. But never every day. And I thought I was being clever by avoiding drugs that were cross-tolerant on consecutive days ~ ie if I had heroin on Monday, Tuesday would be a Valium day ~ and so on. Heroin I was very scared of getting hooked on. Vivid proof of the worst kind was all around me of what the drug could do. One guy had lost one leg and was determinedly injecting right into the enormous rotting open sore on the other. When I first met him I thought he'd had an accident, unable to get to the loo on time because he was on cruches. No. This stench was the putrefaction of his own living flesh. It was disgusting. But once one leg had gone, so did his self-respect. Recently, after an absence of several years, he showed up again in my "manor". His remaining leg is still rotting, though it did used to get cleaned up periodically by doctors. I've not seen him for several months now and I've a nasty feeling he's dead.

As I say, I had reason to fear heroin addiction.

I did take a lot of Valium one long, hot summer. I enjoyed the muscle-relaxing effects they gave me. I was often in low-grade pain from the Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Anyway ~

Heroin.

That's what people want to hear about, I guess.

I was daydreaming just now, before I put pen to paper, that if a poll could be gathered of users' private thoughts on first experimenting with heroin, ideas along the lies of "is that it?!?" and "is this what all the fuss is about?!?..." would top the list of reactions.

I felt peaceful, warm and sickly-sweet to the point of nausea. But I managed not to be sick, which was a small triumph. My first time with crack I did have my head down the toilet. You have to persist with these substances. They're not always user-friendly to start off with ...

Heroin is best compared to a big fluffy blanket. At first, because you don't actually need it, you might feel too hot and slightly uncomfortable. But as time goes on and you become inexorably acclimatized to the stuff, you eventually find, on throwing off the blanket, that the freezing cold world is unbearable. You hurry to wrap up warm again. Sometimes, perhaps if you got badly chilled, you might promise never to do without your blanket ever again~ which is what I have done. I'm far better at keeping promises to use than the ones I've made to clean up.

The process of addiction takes time and persistance. No way can anyone get addicted to any drug from one try. Admittedly, to the easily-impresed, the image of the junkie as a kind of anarchist or rebel with a cause (the cause is always to score more gear so you don't get sick!) can be just as intoxicating as the drug.

I am exhausted from scribbling pages and pages of this. It's dark outside and I've all this still to type in ... I do apologize but this will have to continue tomorrow when I can hopefully give at least some meaningful account of precisely what led on to what and how this heroin achieved the iron grip it has over me still to this day ...

Till tomorrow ...