HAMSTERS & HEROIN: Not all junkies are purse-snatching grandmother-killing psychos. I'm keeping this blog to bear witness to that fact.

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DIARY OF A SLOWLY RECOVERING HEROIN ADDICT

I used to take heroin at every opportunity, for over 10 years, now I just take methadone which supposedly "stabilizes" me though I feel more destabilized than ever before despite having been relatively well behaved since late November/early December 2010... and VERY ANGRY about this when I let it get to me so I try not to.

I was told by a mental health nurse that my heroin addiction was "self medication" for a mood disorder that has recently become severe enough to cause psychotic episodes. As well as methadone I take antipsychotics daily. Despite my problems I consider myself a very sane person. My priority is to attain stability. I go to Narcotics Anonymous because I "want what they have" ~ Serenity.

My old blog used to say "candid confessions of a heroin and crack cocaine addict" how come that one comes up when I google "heroin blog" and not this one. THIS IS MY BLOG. I don't flatter myself that every reader knows everything about me and follows closely every single word every day which is why I repeat myself. Most of that is for your benefit not mine.

This is my own private diary, my journal. It is aimed at impressing no-one. It is kept for my own benefit to show where I have been and hopefully to put off somebody somewhere from ever getting into the awful mess I did and still cannot crawl out of. Despite no drugs. I still drink, I'm currently working on reducing my alcohol intake to zero.

If you have something to say you are welcome to comment. Frankness I can handle. Timewasters should try their own suggestions on themselves before wasting time thinking of ME.

PS After years of waxing and waning "mental" symptoms that made me think I had depression and possibly mild bipolar I now have found out I'm schizoaffective. My mood has been constantly "cycling" since December 2010. Mostly towards mania (an excited non-druggy "high"). For me, schizoaffective means bipolar with (sometimes severe)
mania and flashes of depression (occasionally severe) with bits of schizophrenia chucked on top. You could see it as bipolar manic-depression with sparkly knobs on ... I'm on antipsychotic pills but currently no mood stabilizer. I quite enjoy being a bit manic it gives the feelings of confidence and excitement people say they use cocaine for. But this is natural and it's free, so I don't see my "illness" as a downer. It does, however, make life exceedingly hard to engage with...

PPS The "elevated mood" is long gone. Now I'm depressed. Forget any ideas of "happiness" I have given up heroin and want OFF methadone as quick as humanly possible. I'm fed up of being a drug addict. Sick to death of it. I wanna be CLEAN!!!

Attack of the Furry Entertainers!

Attack of the Furry Entertainers!

Monday, November 16, 2009

Attitude Is A Decision...

OR, the way I'd phrase it: there are many things you cannot change, but you CAN change your attitude to them..!

I wrote out a long post last night
, but left it on my chair. It was 2500 words anyhow. I'd have to top up time twice in this internet café to bash in that much ...

I did another 500 words last night, introducing Gwendolina, that savage hellhound you may have read about in my side bar (said I'd put her in my book didn't I?~ and in she goes, confined to the kitchen for her usual bad behaviour, werewolf silhouette baying sorrowfully at the striplight through the frosted door). I also added a parrot who says "sort us out with a pipe, mate," and other crackhead phrases. I can only write what I know so it's drugs galore I'm afraid. Or rather, I'm writing about the theme of addiction. There are very few good books on this subject, fiction or non-fiction. And I am inspired to go on. So inspired in fact that once pen hits paper entire passages flow out ~ easier than a shopping list.

My one reservation is against writing anything that could be construed as "drug porn". This is a difficult one because to someone determined to find glamour in grunge nothing I say will ever disgust them. I just hope I manage to portray my situations in enough fullness that only a fool could ever say "I read your book and had to give heroin a try!"

I got out three how-to books from the library. Two on screenwriting, which I haven't the SLIGHTEST desire to get involved in because 1. I hate reading scripts and the thin dialogue and wouldn't want to write it (novel dialogue is quite different) 2. the novel is a far superior art form, playing as it does without constraints of time, technicians, cast or budget on the greatest stage of all ~ the theatre of the mind and 3. less than 300 films a year are made in Hollywood, let alone anywhere else in the English-speaking world ~ against several thousand new novels published so the chances of minimal success at least with a novel are greater. And 4. the writer is BOTTOM of the pack in Hollywood, has no creative control ~ will likely be asked to rewrite a perfecly good script over and over at the whim of the stars even if this weakens or destroys the storytelling and 5. how many famous screenwriters can YOU name?

Sorry I had to let off that particular burst steam. It's been building inside for some time...

So anyway I got these screenwriting books because I thought they might teach me something about structuring a story, which I'd say is one of my weaker points as a "writer". When I did one unit in Creative Writing: The Novel at university, our teacher, a Booker/etc nominated fictioneer of some renown told me she particularly liked my characterization and use of language. I couldn't have been more flattered. I write to the philosophy that "character is plot", but I know I have a lot to learn about particularly deft and clever plotting. So I flicked through these guides, both by successful Hollywood big and small screen writers. They phrase commonsense into technical-sounding jargon about "character triangles" and "protagonist-antagonist" ... etc. But it's all cowshite. Character triangles are just the situations you get in any story. People have varying feelings and play various roles in relation to one another. Of course. Our protagonist is our main character. The antagonist is the somebody who stands in his or her way, opposes his or her desires, possibly manipulating him/her for his/her own ends. You get the gist.

In other words it's all stuff that comes naturally to us all, whether we call ourselves "novelists" or not!

The third book, This Year You Write Your Novel (ISBN 9780316065412) by Walter Mosley told me just what I needed to hear at just the right time ~ it's about how to turn a first draft of mush into a blindingly good published tale. And he is what I call a "successful" writer. Ie not just one who got into print, which seems to be the only credential the vast majority of "creative writing" teachers offer, but a renowned and respected author. Once I picked up the knack of scribbling out pages of fiction ~ and there is a very definite knack to it. It now comes easier than blogging or letter-writing or any other type of writing ~ and I mean on a page-by-page basis. I now can see the humungous error I was making was to convince myself that the inevitable baloonings, crossings-out and tinkerings with the text constituted rewriting. Which means in times past I never got beyond a rather polished first draft. The present second draft dispaches entire characters (e.g. the protagonist's mother), adds others and most importantly will hopefully tie together a whole lot of episodic scenes into a whizz-bang tale.

In previous years I used to tell myself: I'd rather write another book than rewrite this one ... yet somehow these follow-up books never came as easy as I told myself they ought to. And complacency set in. And drugs. And my whole life went tits-up anyhow.

So I'm rewriting and rewriting. Short and bittersweet. That's what I'm hoping for.

Better stop blabbering now. I've writing to do.

Illustrated ~ hellhounds; movie script (you're warned these are judged partly on the amount of WHITE SPACE which surely says it all); novel typescript (click on each if you want to read more closely); the Mosley book; Ugly Betty's sister Hilda: eyecandy...

Sunday, November 15, 2009

The Plunge


Niagra falls, USA/Canada. I once dreamed I was on a boat such as this one ...
DEEP BREATH... TAKE PLUNGE..! I'M WRITING... I started without knowing it. Thinking I was taking notes I actually wrote out a whole chunk of dialogue. Only 500 words (bear in mind 1000 words is only 2.5 pages from an average novel in ordinarily spaced type ~ so it's not that much.) But it's a start, and remember this is my second draft. Draft 1 is already in the can and unpublishable, because it's amateurish throughout and as I said before, has a massive plot flaw that invalidates more than half of the book. This time round I'm concentrating on linking my scenes together a little better and weaving the background characters, who suddenly popped up and vanished in the first version, deeper into the story, which is very much one character's story. In a sense it's a fictionalized memoir, I suppose you could say.

The big plunge I take later today when I start my new chapter 2. (Chapter 1 can wait till the end...)

I'M READING To Kill A Mockingbird ~ it's survived four house moves (most of my books never get left behind) and I know it's a classic but I hadn't realized how good it was. Maybe that will inspire me. I tried an old Jackie Collins the other day that had been sitting next to Harper Lee for almost as much time and couldn't stand the crass language. That went sailing across the room. Perhaps I'm getting old ...

Saturday, November 14, 2009

Wild Hamsters

FURRY FRIDAY (on Saturday).

MESOCRICETUS AURATUS ~ the name means "medium-sized golden hamster"...

THE GOLDEN OR SYRIAN HAMSTER many of us knew as childhood (or adult) pets is actually an endangered species in the wild.



It is said (and DNA typing backs this up) that every pet hamster in the world pet trade came from ONE nest unearthed by accident at an archaeological dig near Aleppo, Turkey in 1930.



Whether these are actual wild golden hamsters or faked up pictures who cares, but you get an idea of what some Syrians and Turks might encounter on a hiking weekend:



Some of the original captive hamster-family died, but at least two of the young did breed, and from this pairing every hamster sold in the pet trade today is descended.



Here's a family of golden hamsters out for a ramble. Don't they look cute:



"HAMSTER" is a German word meaning "hoarder" ... Watch this!


Thursday, November 12, 2009

A Hyacinth Macaw Interlude

I think these are some of the most beautiful birds:

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Weird Dreams*



MY BODY CRAVES SLEEP DESPERATELY, yet in bed I spent half the night seemingly in a semi-twilight state. That was last night. The night before was full of recurrent nightmares about losing things, being cornered, falsely accused (a constant nightmare theme of mine) and accosted by foes.

I probably slept so badly last night because I was afraid of going back to the same nightmare that haunted two great blocks of sleep all night between Monday and Tuesday. I don't know.

I had loads of things buzzing in my head that I could have posted. But as soon as the computer's on the old blank page is glaring at me ~ white with rage!

I'm no stranger to writer's block. It's a very real thing. But nowadays I feel all aglow, because I have a story peopled by vivid characters I'm burning to tell. It doesn't pain me to plot it, scrawl notes about it. I can't stop. My previous block was how to get round a ridiculous and major plot flaw that invalidated maybe 40,000 words of my first draft. I puzzled and puzzled about how to retell my tale and at last it came to me on Sunday. And now, though I'm still depressed, I'm at least happy to have something constructive to do... Know what I mean? And I must dash now. Computer's about to terminate me!

Dalí self portrait (title unknown); Ryman's own copier paper the type I use except not glary high white; Dalí Nude, in Contemplation Before the Five Regular Bodies
Metamorphized into Corpuscles, in Which Suddenly Appears the
Leda of Leonardo Chromosomatized by the Visage of Gala, 1954


The New Literary Agents: If Danielle Steel gets published why can't I? (Big question. Have you read any of her works? I once tried, as I knew she'd sold over 400,000,000 books and wanted to know her secret. Three pages later I gave up. I still cannot fathom it....

* is there any other type~??!?

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

A New Project...



... or an old one revisited.

IT CAME TO THE POINT WHERE I JUST WANTED TO CURL UP AND DIE before I reached inside and grabbed a handful of the inner strength. I knew I had it somewhere but it hurt too much to use. (And why bother?)


I know I have been shillyshallying back and forth. I would do this. I would like to do that. I should do something else. And I could do yet another thing. I was looking for a project and finally fixed upon writing the second draft of the book that has been lying in the bottom of a cupboard for months on end. The first draft, let me explain, is so howlingly terrible no self-respecting publisher would light their stove with it, let alone print it.

This is my novel, not the drug-memoirs I also threatened to inflict on the world. The memoirs ground to a halt some time ago when I came up against twin dead weights. 1: I didn't like or enjoy remembering my own life; 2: there's the second quandary of whether/what/how much I say about real people who came into my life. At least fiction gives the freedom of talking in as much detail about anyone you please because the characters are all made up. Anyway the problem with the first version of this book was a major plot flaw. Basically I made something happen to my main character without researching thoroughly enough what this would entail. This time I'm sticking to that maxim "write what you know". I'm not feeling up to doing the job of researcher on top. Writing 100,000 pristine words shall be enough. So wish me luck, I've started already.

Also I cleaned my oven today. I have never used oven cleaner in my life. The chemicals always looked too scary. And why bother cleaning something you barely glimpse inside at the best of times. It's only because it's got so dirty it let off the main fire alarm that I got spurred into £2.50 Mr Muscle action.

Cheery-bye all. It's a miserable, crisp autumn day. What's it like your end?

Heroin in Brunei Darussalam in Asian English

Top: what famous novel do you think this manuscript belongs to?


NEW LINK: Erowid "how to purify street heroin" (I can't vouch for this!)

Monday, November 09, 2009

Sleeping... Eating...


THE WEATHER'S extremely chilly. Fallen leaves everywhere in a brown mush. A "nip" in the air, if I can say that without being racist about the Japanese (according to the Official Politically Correct Handbook, not ...)

All I want to do is eat and sleep. Eat stodge, that is and go to bed in the day. And sleep all night into the bargain. And then when I'm awake all I think about most of the time is doom and gloom. This is depression (again).

I saw a documentary on Japan last night. Japan and Japanese things barely ever come on British telly. Well, nowhere near as frequently as I'd like. Of course there are people from all over the world in London and the UK, but no great community of Japanese expats, so Japan and Japanese things are pretty exotic here.

But there was this British man, who motorcycled (and ferryboated) from Sydney Australia to Tokyo Japan. He was on telly last night. Id' seen some of it before, but this was was the last episode, the Japanese instalment. I sat glued to the screen and nearly fell over when a couple of street signs appeared and I could read them!

京都駅: 京 kyō means "capital city" ... this is the same character used in Tōkyō 東京 ("East Capital"). The second character 都 can be read to or miyako, meaning "the seat of Imperial palace" or "capital".) (Kyōto, by the way, was capital of Japan before Tōkyō took on the title in the modern era.) Railway station eki = a horse 馬 (lefthandside) coming to a halt on the right, 駅 where they say the R should be used as a mnemonic for Railwaystation ...


THIS IS IT: Charlie Boorman ~ Sydney to Tokyo By Any Means ...

Saturday, November 07, 2009

The Kingfisher

FEATHERY FRIDAY (ON SATURDAY)

It looks something like a giant hummingbird. It is probably the most beautiful bird in the UK.



Surprise, surprise ~ it fishes expertly. Without bashing its nose on the rocks:





Sometimes they're generous:



Sometimes they can't decide who the fish belongs to:



I don't think this one enjoys being handled. Look at its indignant little face!



This mini cartoon version is called an African Pygmy Kingfisher ... (why do pygmy everythings seem to come from Africa~??)

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Some Day I'm Gonna Change... I just don't know when...

WHEN INDEED! I am awake in the middle of the night worrying because my life feels wrong-wrong-WRONG and yet I never seem able to do anything about it. Not for any meaningful length of time.

There are gerzillions of things I'm meant to be sorting out, yet inertia stops me doing so. E.g. I really need to see a decent careers advisor from a good university to get my priorities straight and find out where I stand vis-à-vis returning as a student.

And what subject(s) would I study? Looking into Japanese at Birkbeck, the University of London college that specializes in degrees taught as evening classes, if you come to Japanese ab initio you can expect in the four years of a BA Hons degree to raise it to the status of "one year post A level" (higher school leaving certificate). But dreadful grammar aside, that's roughly where my German is now and I'd want a higher level of competence than that.

I have bought a fresh notebook, whose blank pages shan't glare at me ~ white with rage! ~ because I've already defaced a load. On one double page I've begun listing my goals and have decided to get Japanese up to A level before I even apply anywhere, even if I do apply to do that. I also want to learn Chinese. And I have an A level in French I'm not going to let rot. In any case, if I do win the lottery I'm shipping out to Monaco. I ain't paying taxes to Gordon Brown any day of the week!

Also if I really do win the lottery no-one need worry about what I'd do. I've already decided the first thing I'd do if I had any amount of money (apart from paying my debts off) will be to get straight into private treatment where they can prescribe sustained release morphine pills which are far better than methadone for someone who really wants to stay away from "gear" ...

Speaking of drugs: here's something "funny" I found online:

"Heroin Clearance Sale in Southeast Asia (New York Times)"!

The Union of Myanmar, better known as Burma, which not much longer than a decade ago used to make the majority of the world's heroin, still manufactures about 5% ~ which amounts to about 40 tonnes of neat diamorphine annually!

A Burmese tribe called the Wa, supposed "masters at heroin production" are arming for a full-on fight with the "ruling military junta" ... hence a cut-price "drugs garage sale" threatened to "flood" international markets ....

Euromillions' jackpot is actually more than double the £35,000,000 mentioned on that ticket and no those aren't my numbers so please nobody congratulate me if they come up!! Pills: morphine sulphate 100mg ...

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Two Moons Under A Mountain

Japanese character of the day: kuzu ~ two moons (see left) under a mountain (see right). 崩れる kuzureru ~ to collapse, fall to pieces; 崩す kuzusu ~ 1. to demolish 2. to break a large ¥ note or bill 3. to write simplified Chinese characters (!) This is the poetry of writing.

What do two moons under a mountain really signify?


If you literally see two moons under a mountain (as reflected in a pool) you're either seeing double or the water is agitated ~ either way is a way to unrest or even destruction. But a moon 月 (tsuki) usually signifies a month 月 (gatsu). If you take a mountain 山 (yama) to mean a city or civilization the two months under the mountain would be a siege leading to collapse of society.

And there we have it: two moons under a mountain 崩.

Utter demolition and ruin!

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

Hamburger Fixation

I AM NEWLY ADDICTED TO BEEFBURGERS. I eat them in brown pitta bread with relish and cheese and tomatoes and radishes. I've cooked so many (and convinced the alarms the entire building was burning down) that the whole place reeks of said fry-ups as you walk in.

Not having the use of an oven any more because the old one's so dirty and grease-filled it smokes like a towering inferno whenever it's on (but no flames). So I carbonize mine in a pan. I'm not averse to blackened meat. I really like the whole indoor-BBQ aspect. But the last but one was a bit too Hiroshima-crunchy. In fact the only thing non-nuclear about it was it didn't glow in the dark and didn't make your fillings tingle.

Anyway: right next to me in a carrier bag as I speak are four of Morrisons own prime beef quarter pounders. 99% beef. I have this inner excited glow of looking forward to cooking them, which is quite sad. And it's about the only excitement I have left. The dreary depths of autumn are mounded rotting-leaf high... police constables have been issued with advice leaflets on how to avoid slipping up and injuring themselves in these terrorous times. I found an embossing stamp this morning and have been embossing everything I own. I am still reading (the end of) Bahnhof Zoo and lots of things re Japanese. But apart from that I feel like jumping before an oncoming train. I just hope I win Euromillions' £90,000,000 jackpot on Friday. Unlike some of those American lotteries I hear about, this one pays you the entire sum tax free in one lump. How cool is that. You could even buy a house in Kensington and Chelsea with that money...

I mean, if £90,000,000 can't solve my problems: what will???

Talking of money, who else was a fan of 80s soap operas? My personal favourite was the Australian Return to Eden. Unlike Dynasty it wasn't so boring you could only admire the set-design. Most of the caste of this Australian "miniseries" (not based on a novel) had been in Prisoner Cell Block H so me and my brother called them by their prisoner names as the rich-bitch drama unfolded. All I remember was Travers from Prisoner (the Joan Collins figure) had a psychopathic hatred of her pudding-basin-coiffured rival, the motherly Stephanie Harper. O ~ I recall the name to this day. How full my life must have been in the 1980s.... just about every cliffhanger seemed to feature a twisted-faced Jilly/Travers's Aussie-vowelled threat: "I'm gonna get you, Stiffany Hairper!" Here's a few clips:








Peta Toppano (Travers/Jilly) official site.

Monday, November 02, 2009

The funkiest writing in the world...

HERE ARE SIX OF THE MOST PICTURESQUE WRITING SYSTEMS on the planet ~ in my opinion ~ in ascending order of funkiness.

What do you think?

Mongolian traditional:


Korean:


Tamil:


Amharic:


Georgian:


Burmese:

Sunday, November 01, 2009

Fire Chaos


NO FIRE ~ but a great deal of chaos.

I slammed in
a pair of Morrison's own quarter pounder beefburgers in the middle shelf under high heat fan oven-grill combi with drip-tray to catch the slimy expectorations.

Within three minutes so much smoke was seeping from the sides of the door you'd think my own secret Bonfire Night was smouldering away in there. A minute later, predictably, the smoke alarm went off, but I was ready underneath with a broomhandle to poke it quiet.

This technique was successful for a while, but five minutes and a couple more pokes later so much smoke was pouring into the room that the alarm in the hall went off to earsplitting, lights flashing, bellringing psychotronic hullabaloo. Basically my "fire" had set the house's compulsory Health & Safety state-of-the-art alarm system into the biggest techno-tizz I've ever experienced.

I nearly fell down the stairs trying to get the control box to quell this unearthly commotion. Even then it took two minutes of random key-stabbing till I eventually hit on the right sequence of key-turning and button-pressing to restore peace and sanity.

Thankfully all my housemates seemed to be out ~ or hiding behind their doors.

I barely had time for ten seconds' leaning against the front door panting with exhaustion and to clamber up the stairs to try and air the intractable grey fumes via my tiny casement windows. The oven was off and extractor hood on full blast already. And a woman blaring in Japanese about her trip to London. I always try to combine cookery with education when possible.

But I'd barely a second to notice any of this when the main alarm was off again ~ like a sonic drill to both ears. I charged downstairs. Key-turn. Press press press. The red light signifying a blaze in "zone two" vanished. Peace again.

I had barely got upstairs when the alarm went off yet again. By this time I was panicking that the neighbours ~ or worse the alarm box itself ~ would send the emergency services piling round.

Back upstairs I wiped by glasses, convinced the fog I witnessed everywhere was down to burger-greasy lenses. But no amount of spectacle-buffing would clear it.

The terrible racket went off again and again and again. By the fifth time I knew the silencing procedure by heart. But the control box was mains-powered with battery backup. There was no way of just switching the whole thing off until the smoke cleared. And with my tiny windows (the big ones painted shut long ago ~ thanks landlord) this was going to take a long, long time. I was on the verge of despair.

The cause of all the trouble, so it transpired, was a red-glowing water-filter-shaped gizmo I hadn't even noticed before on the ceiling by my door ~ quite separate from and independent of the poke-outable smoke detector in the next room. No amount of determined broom action would silence this baby.

Eventually with a prayer to God our ridiculously over-zealous alarm system did chill out and shut up for good but not before my nerves were totally frazzled.

No smoke without fire?!?
Not on your nellie!


All that and my burgers were still only half cooked through ~ I had to finish them off in a frying pan!

AND HOW WAS YOUR WEEKEND..??!!?!

I WANT OFF METHADONE AS QUICK AS HUMANLY POSSIBLE!

METHADONE ~ A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH







Heroin Shortage: News

If you are looking for the British Heroin Drought post, click here; the latest word is in the comments.







Christiane F

"Wir, Kinder vom Bahnhoff Zoo" by "Christiane F", memoir of a teenage heroin addict and prostitute, was a massive bestseller in Europe and is now a set text in German schools. Bahnhoff Zoo was, until recently, Berlin's central railway station. A kind of equivalent (in more ways than one) to London's King's Cross... Of course my local library doesn't have it. So I'm going to have to order it through a bookshop and plough through the text in German. I asked my druggieworker Maple Syrup, who is Italiana how she learned English and she said reading books is the best way. CHRISTIANE F: TRAILER You can watch the entire 120-min movie in 12 parts at my Random blog. Every section EXCEPT part one is subtitled in English (sorry: but if you skip past you still get the gist) ~ to watch it all click HERE.

To See Gledwood's Entire Blog...

DID you find my blog via a Google or other search? Are you stuck on a post dated some time ago? Do you want to read Gledwood Volume 2 right from "the top" ~ ie from today?
If so click here and you'll get to the most recent post immediately!

Drugs Videos

Most of these come from my Random blog, which is an electronic scrapbook of stuff I thought I might like to view at some time or other. For those who want to view stuff on drugs I've collected the very best links here. Unless otherwise stated these are full-length features, usually an hour or more.

If you have a slow connexion and are unused to viewing multiscreen films on Youtube here's what to do: click the first one and play on mute, stopping and starting as it does. Then, when it's done, click on Repeat Play and you get the full entertainment without interruption. While you watch screen one, do the same to screens 2, 3 and so on. So as each bit finishes, the next part's ready and waiting.

Mexican Black Tar Heroin: "Dark End"

Khun Sa, whose name meant Prince Prosperous, had been, before his death in the mid 2000s, the world's biggest dealer in China White Heroin: "Lord of the Golden Triangle"

In-depth portrait of the Afghan heroin trade at its very height. Includes heroin-lab bust. "Afghanistan's Fateful Harvest"

Classic miniseries whose title became a catchphrase for the misery of life in East Asian prison. Nicole Kidman plays a privileged middle-class girl set up to mule heroin through Thai customs with the inevitable consequences. This is so long it had to be posted in two parts. "Bangkok Hilton 1" (first 2 hours or so); "Bangkok Hilton 2" (last couple of hours).

Short film: from tapwater-clear H4 in the USA to murky black Afghan brown in Norway: "Heroin Addicts Speak"

Before his untimely death this guy kept a video diary. Here's the hour-long highlights as broadcast on BBC TV: "Ben: Diary of a Heroin Addict". Thanks to Noah for the original link.

Some of the most entertaining scenes from Britain's top soap (as much for the poor research as anything else). Not even Phil Mitchell would go from nought to multi-hundred pound binges this fast: "Phil Mitchell on Crack" (just over 5 minutes).

Scientist lady shows us how to cook up gear: "How Much Citric?" Lucky cow: her brown is 70% purity! Oddly we never see her actually do her hit... maybe she got camera shy...

And lastly:

German documentary following a life from teenage addiction to untimely death before the age of 30. The decline in this girl's appearance is truly shocking. "Süchtig: Protokoll einer Hilflosigkeit". Sorry no subtitles; this is here for anyone learning German who's after practice material a little more gripping than Lindenstraße!































Nosey Quiz! Have you ever heard voices when you weren't high on drugs?

Manic Magic

Manic Magic

Gledwood Volume 2: A Heroin Addict's Blog

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