Sour Sunday

WHY are Sundays so bloody miserable? Do not tell me I'm bloody miserable. Sundays are miserable. The rest of the week I distract myself from the world, on Sunday I can't. I'm having no difficulty sleeping now. Slept all night, all morning.

I watched Ugly Betty. Well that one's going downhill. I think the comedy came off with Betty's braces. Wilhelmina was pretending to be an alcoholic this week. Then that ended. Then something worse came on. I can't recall what it was. Then my mind turned to my dealer round the corner, and a £20 note. I still have that note on me, so no worries there. Usually I'm penniless on Sunday. That dealer got fed up giving me tick, because I wanted it every week. Heroin was the only thing that made Sunday tolerable.I'm put off heroin not just because I lost a huge chunk of life to addiction. In this time I achieved nothing, except that I learned to speak better German. I achieved this by ploughing through books when stoned, looking up every single word I was not 100% sure of in a dictionary. I must have looked up some words 30, 40 or more times. I also started a blog in German, which is awfully phrased "today I go shop, I did buy tea bags. Since two year my hamster die. I not no more eat tea." That bad. And probably that boring. So that's my one achievement.

What puts me off gear most is how truly dire it got. Not just the blank gear (ie not gear at all) but the last stuff, which kept me near-comatose for days on end, but not due to heroin, due to an "unregistered compound". My suspicion, by the way, is that this compound was leaked from a drug-testing lab and produced in the ilk of establishment that churned out mephedrome (meow, 4-methcathinone), a legal high that really was like coke plus ecstasy (I tried it) and was banned in Britain earlier this year. I'm blaming whatever was in this for that mental episode. The further away I get, the more out of it I see that I was.

Back to methadone. Like an idiot I had forgotten to drink it, in fact the dose was 6 hours overdue (twice daily dosing). I drank it, fell askeep for another three or four hours and woke up without the slightest urge for heroin. I suppose I'm not allowed to say I'd rather die than take heroin as that's suicide talk. Suicide talk is like the rubbish strewn on the ground after a tornado. It's crap spewn out of my drug-infested psyche.

Well I can't think of anything else. There's only an hour and 45 minutes till Sunday is over. I wish I was in Germany, they're an hour ahead. Less Sunday can only be a good thing.
See ya Monday...

DWARF HAMSTER PUP 2 DAYS OLD



That early 80s song Words (under the Tunnel post) is apparently French. I never knew that. With the exception of Vanessa Paradis Joe le Taxi and Jane Birkin/Serge Gainsbourg Je t'aime... moi non plus this is the only French pop song I know.

DESIRELESS: VOYAGE