Tuesday, 25 December 2012

Monday, 24 December 2012

Saturday, 22 December 2012

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Monday, 17 December 2012

Tuesday, 11 December 2012

I was in the death struggle with self: God and Satan fought for my soul those three long hours. God conquered — now I have only one doubt left — which of the twain was God?

Monday, 10 December 2012

I was there in the zone, the ozone, the chromosome; I was there in the zone.
I was with Charlie riding on his Horse down the Dragon Trail chasing a China Lady to oblivion.
Children of oblivion, nor am I arguing that there is no value in the exploration of altered states, which all of us have searched for or are searching for it. Be it the repetitive swinging on a swing as a child, the smoking of a marijuana cigarette or joint, the endless limits of our imagination in reading, we all explore or make an attempt to explore altered or various dimensions of reality

Thursday, 6 December 2012

I started to see clear outlines of people everywhere. I went kinda like predator when he goes invisible in the movie. I knew this was a bad sign. Things started to get real wierd. Liquid smoke was filling my whole field of vision and I remember the outlined people getting more vivid. They would smile at me with these evil faces and wave and shit. It was scary as hell. I would be having a conversation with somebody and realise I was totally alone. Lots of times I would find myself chasing imaginary intruders out of my yard. I would see people plain as day and then when I got up close they would be a chair or lawn ornament. A lot more things happened I can't even explain like hands touching me all over.
You think about how much of a wonderful person you are on powder, on crack, you think solely about crack. I could be in swimming in the great lakes of crack cocaine wondering what I’d do if I ran out. I just remember mostly being aware of my sobriety as I scoped the carpet looking for crumbs. Me and everyone else in that house. If you’ve ever been to a crack house, you’d know exactly what I’m talking about. Everybody that’s out is scoping the place, looking for shards, crumbs, anything. It’s like a big crack piñata went off, except nothing came out. I lost a good thirty pounds between my binges and my lows, my depression. Some people don’t even recognize me. Some even have the nerve to ask me what diet I followed. Ha, that one still makes me chuckle. I should have said, “Crack, works like a charm… You never even think about food.”
After a week of agony, spirit crushing insomnia and depression, I broke. Dressed in all black and sporting a pair of women's sunglasses, I rode a bicycle to a pharmacy with the intention of holding it up. I had a note that said 'i have a gun. give me all the oxycontin, morphine, methadone, and dilaudid and nobody gets hurt.' Luckily for me a wheelchair bound elderly woman was blocking my access to the pharmacy counter. I was approached by the store manager and told to leave after 10 minutes of conspicuously staking out the pharmacy area while waiting for the old woman to leave. Discouraged and on the verge of suicide, I bicycled my way back home.