Ding Dong Dead!

LET THE NEWS BE WIDELY SPREAD...
MY ACQUAINTANCE and Valium Marilyn's friend the "Greek Crackhead ..." is dead!

She was never really my friend and we never got on. So I'm not going to start pretending to adore her now. I hate that sort of hypocrisy. I feel sorry for her boyfriend though. He is said to be utterly distraught.

Medically this is a familiar story: middle aged person ~ cocaine user (snorted/injected/smoked ~ it doesn't matter) ~ has sudden heart attack and dies. Apparently in America one heart attack patient in two tests cocaine positive... So none of this is any surprise.

But still... Rest in Peace Andra xx
~ Safe at last







Here's two crack links of the day:

1: A familiar situation: vulnerable people are targeted, dealers move in, their home is turned into a crackhouse. They lose their home ...

2. The drug services seem obsessed with the idea that crack use can spread the hepatitis C virus. I'm not so convinced. This whole thing comes about from self-confessed crack smokers, who claim never to have injected anything, and yet still test positive to the blood-borne hep C virus. Would you take a crackhead's word for anything? They say things like "the hot pipe can burn your lips"... yet most pipes are built in such a way they do not GET hot at the mouth end... Grrrr! o I dunno.

More Robo-Food & A Crackheads' Conference

THREE GEAR-&-CRACKHEADS were chatting in the street as I ambled along. One was a former dealer of mine, who is now clean and has a goofy smile all over his face. You should do it too!" he enthuses. But enthusiasm alone just won't cut it... as I've discovered. One of the three I didn't know. The other is notorious. He calls himself Mellow and I have little respect for him. He once pulled a knife on an Irish guy who was a friend of mine... next thing anyone knew Mellow was pelting up the road, knife in hand with Irish Guy raging up behind him. And that tells you all you ever wanted to know about Mellow. Except that I first properly met him in what the press call a shooting gallery and we called "the Burnt-Out House". I was sat round a table with two lesbians. We had all just had a pipe and were now onto the gear. Mellow, was at this time still smoking all his drugs, started pulling a pathetic rant about "don't go squirting that crap in my direction". It was me who pointed out that at £10 a pop we were hardly likely to be playing waterpistols with it, were we? Then again some people are stupid and he doesn't look like he's added any IQ points as he's gone... Anyway they didn't spot me today as I quickly pinged by...

OK that's druggie story of the day done with. Now onto "cleaner" issues. No of course I have NOT touched any crack. At ALL. It really was as I said a once a week £10 thing in the end... and the end went on for months. Now the end is over. And done with. I'm fantasizing about breaking all my bottles. But I still haven't done it. (Not having a bottle has never stopped me piping in the past, so maybe that's it. Throwing needles away I found even more dodgy as when I was minded to "use" I would "use" no matter WHERE the needle came from. I'm just glad I tested HIV-Hep B-Hep C negative because I honestly didn't think I would. (Especially the last one...)

And now to hamsters. OK now mine have to be the best-fed in Christendom as I've gone out and got them a kilo of Wagg hamster Gerbil Mouse Munch. The packaging makes it sound so vitamin-packed they'll go supersonic... so let's see...

For anyone new to these pages who might be bemused by my constant references to "robos", I mean roborovski hamsters and here's the writeup at roborovskihamsters.webs.com

Roborovski Hamsters (Phodopus roborovskii) are the smallest and fastest of all the hamster family and are kept as domestic pets. Of the hamster species, they live the longest (2 to 3 and a half years).

They are very curious, easily startled, and generally timid little hamsters. Their suitability as pets to be handled is further diminished by their size and speed. Roborovski's are, however, extremely social and affectionate with each other, and when housed together from an early age, sleep in one place and indeed eat, play, etc. together. They have a very good temperament and rarely bite either each other or people, which makes them ideal for family pets.

They grow to about 4 - 5cm long [2"](not 7cm like you sometimes hear) and have bullet shaped bodies and have very long back legs for running extremely quickly.

See why I find them so entertaining?

Terrible Nightmares and Attempted Robbery ... but a tolerable day!

IT'S BEEN A TOLERABLE DAY SO FAR... possibly because I have done nothing at all except doze doze doze in bed, then switch on Channel 4 where Friends was on followed by a Girls Aloud concert (I think Girl Bands are OK; it's boybands I can't stand, with all that Christ-style arm-throwy-outing and "I'm o-so sincere because I want to get in your knickers" heart-grabbing. It makes me sick... Anyway what was I saying... yeah done nothing except that and had a drink. And another drink. And a shower. And forced myself out to the shop because I'm desperate for sugar (or else no tea! I tried sugarless tea and really tried to stick with it but nothing doing. Ever since I woke up on a trolley under a hospital striplight (heroin overdose) and spent TWO DAYS in there (which is well unusual for overdose; usually they just chuck you out... but that was my second ever IV hit, as I'm sure they noticed by the state of my arms, so I probably got special treatment. I remember trying to wash and realizing I was covered in coloured sensors from those whirlybleep machines we all know from ER and Casualty... Ever since that I've been resolutely addicted to sugary tea (when I do drink it: in my heavy-boozing phase I glugged nothing but intoxicating liquor and maybe the odd sip of water... Right anyway what was I spouting on about... O yeah I found myself out here. I'm posting this in my old internet caff. I think they were not at all pleased to see me as they remember me shambling in daily and nightly in the most dreadful conditions. This is also the place I lost 0.4g of heroin which was highly annoying as that costs £15!

I had a dreadful nightmare 2 nights ago. We were supposed to be in a holiday home. An extensive palace of a home this was... my brother, my Dad and me. But I had crackheads and junkies surrounding me... My brother went off to do things of his own... my Dad was not at all pleased that these undesirables had followed me in the house (I had "let them in" only in the most passive way. The dream ended with me trying to escape by bus (a huge red double-decker London bus pulled up in the lobby of this 5-star hotel-sized and styled house only I could not run to it fast enough to get on... All this time some hassle was going on that I was supposed to meet my dealer where I grew up (and where summers seemed to last a million years). It all ended with the house catching fire. My Dad was REALLY upset by then. And I couldn't get out because so many of these crackhead-junkies were pressing round me in my way... wonder what THAT symbolizes..?

I next had a dream that I was in the company of the socialite Tara Palmer Tomkinson and she was being my new best friend. I don't usually like "socialites" and those dreaded tv-ified "it girls"... Tamara Beckwith who could play Cruella De Ville with no makeover always spouting "I I I: me me me..."... as for Paris Hilton and her punani-flashing.. who can say anything?!? But Tara PT has a ditzy charm. I admire her for kicking a blazing coke habit and she pushes herself: e.g. singing on celebrity bootcamp reality tv... Yeah I like Tara PT I think she's OK... I think this one symbolizes the fact that a better life and better friends are possible... (Can't see myself ever mixing with real socialites though...)

Yesterday was a crap day. Compounded by the fact that I returned home to see a black man I didn't know knocking at our front door. Instinctively I walked on past, in case he was a bailiff as much as anything ... then I thought "how long am I going to have to hang around pretending not to live here?" and irritatedly approached my own door. The man put on a cheesy smile and did that knuckle-knock thing they call "touch". Usually I would only indulge in that tripe to say goodbye to a dealer... "Who are you looking for?" I enquire. "John the rastaman..." I've been there approaching a month yet I'm still yet to eyeball all my fellow tenants... I tried to get out of dodgy guy what room rastaman supposedly lived in; he vaguely told me downstairs at the back. I unlocked the door, feeling thankful to have set it on security lock (that is: not just banging it shut, but turning the handle upwards so about five bolts insert themselves the length of the frame. This way nobody can get in even if they do smash the laminated glass... I noticed he moved to follow me but I swiftly slammed the door behind me. At first there was no answer, then an annoyed-looking Spanish guy opened up, yelling "no I don't know him" (black guy was by now waving in the most pathetically OTT cheery way) "DO NOT LET HIM IN!" So I went upstairs and paced about thinking "I need to go out again. Why should I feel prisoner in my own home because some would-be thief has come to pick on the poorest and most vulnerable at Christmas. And that is how I'd clocked him. Possibly looking for a crackhouse but most probably out to rob someone. But of course when I returned downstairs four minutes later he'd vanished. I made sure the door was fully locked again.

Well it's Xmas day and I've no definite plans. Valium Marilyn invited me to her's this afternoon, so if she phones I will come and watch Discovery Channel on her cable TV. She tells me her son is going away...

Valium Marilyn was in tears yesterday saying no Christmas Spirit was left and blah blah. The staff of McDonalds were staring at her like she was a space alien just because she was a bit benzo'd (though to them she would most likely have seem half drunk...) Then I cheered her up and got her to do an impression of a shrieking gypsy pensioner we both know at the top of her voice. We got funny looks from everyone but hey it's Christmas...

The Queen's Christmas Message is on in 40 minutes ... after that there should hopefully be a half decent movie and I have to make Chinese stir fry. If Valium Mal does call she won't have bothered to make Christmas lunch: it will be Quality Street and Doritos with dips and temazepam ~ I know her.

Righty-ho: gotta go. If your day has not gone merrily then I hope it's at least gone tolerably and may 2009 bring what you've wanted most of all...

PS my top picture, by the Spanish artist Goya, illustrates the origin of the English word "nightmare"... yes it really does have something to do with wild horses riding out of the inky black!

HM THE QUEEN CHRISTMAS MESSAGE 2008
Here's the Queen's Speech for any expats out there who'd like to view... or foreigners or Americans who've never heard HM's squeaky voice droning in the vaguest, most diplomatic "allude to everything; say nothing and don't rock the boat" message that comes out at 3pm sharp Xmas day by which time most are too sozzled or patriotic to switch channels...

Caught Piping

POP STAR GEORGE MICHAEL has been caught misbehaving yet again in a public convenience. (Surely an inconvenience for him.) According to vague BBC radio news he was captured and cautioned in possession of "a class A and a class C drug".

I bet it's crack, I thought to myself.

And cheery-mcDeary, wasn't I bang on right?


Everybody who is into drugs seems to be doing crack these days.

A decade ago cocaine was approaching a peak in popularity to which it had gently climbed over the preceeding decade. When I first encountered drugs cocaine was still a dinner party drug for those rich enough not to know what to do with their money, a drug for rock stars, and was often uttered in the same breath as heroin. Heroin and cocaine. It was a hard drug. Less disrespectable than heroin, but not something one would idly brag about snorting, certainly not in mixed company.

Within half a decade the situation had changed to the point that coke ("charlie" as the new lower-class users referred to it) had become a posh version of speed. A man with and on coke felt he was "the man" and any shame surrounding the substance, at least among the weekend clubbing fraternity had evaporated. Nearly all of these users sniffed the drug. Crack was still considered scummy. A "black drug" (at least in America). Something desperate addicts might be glimpsed smoking on shadowy inner-city back stairwells (as I did a couple of times).

Crack, of course, is only cocaine mixed with baking soda, "washed" (with water for it to float in) under some heat source (e.g. a cig lighter flame). An oil forms atop the spoon. Fished out, a molten white substance quickly hardens and the so-called rocks are produced.

These can be shoved on a pipe which requires cigarette ash or some squiggly wire gauze as illustrated to suspend the melting coke allowing nearly 100% of the dosage to reach the lungs and hence the user's brain. Unlike snorty coke which comes on over five minutes or so, this of course hits the nervous system almost all at once in a super-compressed rush so powerful it can sometimes be heard as an ear-ringing echoing altered state. A very large pipe even blinds you with a snow-blind light in an infinite space (very close to an epileptic seizure, and crack can induce seizure disorders in those previously well). And then a high so immense it feels like surfing a double tidal-wave.

No wonder it's so very addictive.

As I say, crack is only a different form of cocaine, hence many a nose-up user has graduated, from boredom, curiosity (or nose-rotting desperation: don't forget ~ years of snorting eventually dissolve the separator of the nostrils) has "graduated" on to this intensely potent form of the drug. It's more widely available than ever before (from dealers who often retail grass as well). With Amy Winehouse and others widely known to be smokers any remaining stigma is vanishing. And years after the doom and gloom "crack crimewave to hit Britain" headlines it's actually happening.

I have little else to say on the subject. Coke never really got me until I picked up a taste for the so-called speedballs or snowballs, when it's mixed with heroin and injected intravenously as one hit: and this was some years into my hard-drug-using "career"... If the relative dosage is right this feels like an incredibly sugared-up version of heroin, flushing into the brain almost double the dopamine of a crack hit alone...

Highly, highly addictive...

Read the full News of the World article, George Michael had crack in the toilet

PS What's he doing in that Faith poster of his? Wondering whether his deodorant's up to the job..?

In the Crackhouse

I HAD JUST SCORED HEROIN off the B-man the other day and was buying cyder from the corner shop when I ran into Crackhead of the Century, who took up haranguing me for £1 for cigarettes. I said I couldn't afford it; then he said he'd give me a bit of rock for £1, so I caved in.

He introduced me to his latest fast friend, some Polish guy who thinks that because he's been piping "white" for a week, a simple "hello" is beyond him then I said "where are we going to smoke this?" and he lead us to an address I'd already clocked as a crackhouse very near to my own. He also asked where I lived now, I gave totally false directions!

So we approach this house, rather than knocking, crackhead just slams at the front door and it pops open directly (almost like my old house, though at least this had some semblance of a "lock"). People from downstairs start slagging him off over some previous encounter but one joins our fray, so there's now Crackhead, Pole a deranged black woman and me.

He charges upstairs and, breaking another dooor open takes us into a back upstairs flat. Everyone sits down. I really needed the loo as I'd been imbibing cyder all afternoon. The bathroom appeared locked and I pointed out someone might have been in there but no-one could be bothered.

Crackhead took a huge draw on a pipe. Dished out a bit for me. Everyone else was smoking by the time I realized that not only could I not use the loo but the door was barricaded by a chair and Crackhead was talking paranoid nonsense about someone "standing behind" me (no-one was there). This was too much like a scene from a seedy movie throwing the chair out of the way I left, crack in hand. Crackhead went all aggressive on me for daring to do what I wanted: most people seem to be pretty pliant around him, I've no idea why as he's just scum.

Got home and the food I'd put on was overboiling, smoking etc. Knew I should've been out of there! Had a sweet sweet hit of heroin-crack on HIM (not as if he didn't owe me from times past past past...)

... and so on.

Then I decided to be all frugal and sanctimoniously not using anything at all and had such miserable time I could barely get out of bed. As a result my book has gone no further than it was as of that last post... It's well past sundown, Friday night. Have a cheery weekend y'all!

Cuckoos in the Crackhouse: click here to see how evil dealers take advantage of the vulnerable to turn their flats into crackhouses and see innocents turfed out on the streets (I've seen this happen twice 1st hand!)

School Dinners and the Schizophrenic Crackhead on the Stairs

I MADE OVEN-READY FISH AND CHIPS at 7am... but the fish was the cheapest breaded cuts of pollack (and only 47% there...) and the chips got burned... all in all it was like school dinners when you're on last sittings... very reheated and not very nice. The fresh tomato salad that went next to it went some way to redeeming the situation ...

For the past few days we've had a schizophrenic crackhead sleeping on our stairs. This is the black lady who's about 60 and has crack lung. She took me for a total innocent, so when I asked for a bit the other day (came out of my room and there she is smoking) she didn't believe I even knew what the stuff was called. Then she put on four whopping great pipes, probably hoping I'd be vomiting everywhere. But I had a lovely time ~ so har!

Last night she knocked on my door at about 3am. I was awake anyway and so not really annoyed. She was obviously off on one, rambling all over the place with paranoia and irrelevancies, asking the most intrusive questions about my life yet telling me to mind my own business if I dared ask about hers. She offered me sexual favours in return for sleeping in my room but I told her to sleep in her own. This she will not do either because (1) some paranoid idea tells her there's a ghost in there or something like that (she kind of hinted at this) or (2) she's actually got chucked out (which she also hinted at last time we spoke) and is just using our hallway as a dosshouse, which wouldn't surprise me at all. I knew someone who was sleeping for several weeks in the upstairs bathroom of a house share. Because nobody knew each other very well in the house, nobody quite twigged that this constantly occupied bathroom (with strange white smoke coming from under the door..!) was actually inhabited by a crack-addict prostitute who spent the other half her time accruing "business" up the high road...

O well enough of the sordid stuff, I'd better go. It's a lovely sunny day now but man! It was raining cats and dogs earlier. Take it easy everyone!

VIDEO:
CHRIS DE BURGH: LADY IN RED
The Lady in Red blog reminded me of this tune... and isn't it amazing..?
Even people who cannot speak English have come up to him and said (through an interpreter, I'd assume) that though they could not understand the words ever bit of emotion comes through... and of course it does...

The Crackhead on the Stairs

O NO! History is repeating itself... there's a crackhead sleeping (not piping as in the pic: that was the best crackhead picture I could find...) on the stairs. SHE (yes another she) hasn't washed in days and appears to have a bad case of "crack lung"... at night you hear her coughing outrageously. Nasty business...

I got totally freaked out the other night having conked out with the radio on doing phone-ins at full blast... I wake at 3:30 am in the dark and alone with a woman describing vividly the demonic voices that have plagued her head since the age of 15... she describes some weird childhood occult cult meetings she was frequently taken to... claims the voices are down to Voodoo, the implantation of a demon in the head by the adversary to gain advantage. And all throughout this shadowy conversation, which was about as heartwarming as a candle flickering inside a human skull on the Altar of Satan, some cracked-out weirdo is creaking this way and that back and forth along our hallway... UGH! A seriously unpleasant night!!

And so on to my hamsters... who are all as furry as ever and were pinging in a Roborovski Donkey Derby (TM) between gazing up at me adoringly before I left to come here...

Have a cheery day y'all..!

VIDEO: BARBRA STREISAND SINGS "EVERGREEN" in French!



VIDEO 2: DJ TIESTO ~ DJ AS GOD...



PS Next week, at long last, the tell-all expose on Madonna the world has been thus-far lacking. Written by her brother (the one who appears as Chief Consoler) in that Truth or Dare movie...

London Zoo

IT'S ALL HAPPENING TONIGHT. ALL FORMS OF WILDLIFE ARE OUTSIDE!! About two mins walk up the road, standing at her normal corner (a disused Bank of Cyprus) is a girl in a super-spangly pink dress. The kinda thing you'd expect the Supremes to be wearing ... she paces to and fro with her backside sticking out in a way only women can do. (I once tried to do an impression of her (whoever she is) and failed miserably. Even Laundretta asked me about her once ("do you know who that is on that corner ... wow!") Someone ought to tell her round here is for the skrag end of the sex industry. Nobody dresses up for it. You can get £5 anal (if you wanted) and went out at the right time. Actually, Hasty, who wrote that Bang Bang post I pasted up the other day I bumped into late one night about a year and a half ago. "Aw, I'm alright now. I just done one of me regulars," she croaked. To be honest, if I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought she'd just knocked off of a late-night cleaning job. For that's what she was dressed as. An off-duty cleaner (and no it wasn't some bizarre sort of fetish gear.)

Just now a crackhead beggar was having a row with an Imam. His ginger-bearded western apprentice tagged on smiling succinctly as he went, Koran in hand ...

What can I say? These streets are like a zooo sometimes ...