Out of focus and out of touch.

The object that I am finding to be out of focus and that I am out of touch with is reality.

It could well be the stuff I've been ingesting. But some of it has to to with other
"bad habits" that have been acquired. One of which, as mentioned before, is spending way too much time in front of this computer. Along with limiting my access to real people in a face to face sort of way.

I have just made myself too comfortable in here lately. I can't blame the weather, but for a bit of rain, and I have been out in knee deep snow for many reasons. Running for drugs was just one, but there were healthy reasons for getting out as well.

I used to go to the mission every day for lunch. It's probably been close to 6 months or more since I've eaten there. Not that it's a must for me for nourishment, as food hasn't been a problem around here for some time. Not for the three donuts a day I would grab from there either.

But it's to get out and around people.

To say Hi! to some folks who I haven't seen in a bit. To hear Babuska Lady holler at me that I'm a Prince! To talk about what's happening with people who cared about what was happening with me and I about their situation. To hear about who got picked up by the cops last night or to see folks who just got out of the slammer or ankle bracelets just removed.

Trips to the park have been fewer and I really like being there.

I did go to the library yesterday. A book taken out was pass due. That cost me $.90 in fines. That's not a good thing, and what is worse, the book wasn't finished. That was after renewing the book for a total of 6 weeks.

Yep, the renewal was done online.

There was my monthly trip to WallyWorld. The usual cruise around the store provides a bit of comic relief. Those pictures posted about the place could come from the one I go to regularly. I also excused myself to a couple of women who had their fat asses parked right in front of the tomatoes.

Something along the lines of, "I know whatever it is your talking about is very important, but could you do it over there?" Clearing my throat and coughing didn't seem to do the trick. I thought the minute I patiently waited until actually offering up that smartass remark was sufficient enough time.

On another note it also should be noted that, much to my relief, everyone who was owed was paid off. My checking account isn't in the negative range yet either. I was retaught a lesson a month ago, so that is a problem that hopefully won't take place for awhile.


Visits to Don's have been fewer as well. I did stop by yesterday and paid the price. Essentially another day semi-comatose was the result. Not a great way to spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Added to that was my usual dance with the rock and a need to knock myself out further. If anything to keep from posting or texting while too fucked up.

But I know I'm not alone in this internetz bullshit either. High, straight, sober or not it's always starting to look the same. Yeah, I see some of you every time I go online. We really gotta' get outside and smell the petunias a bit more often because the pretty pictures of flowers and other things posted on Facebook just aren't real.

Ya' think?

How hot is it?

Actually it's been hotter than Satan's taint.

I don't know where I found that line, but I love it, and have been using it where ever possible. It has been oppressively hot in this part of the world as well. Certainly it has had an effect on many peoples disposition. It certainly has had an effect on mine.

Despite the urge to do nothing and indeed there was been a great deal of that going on in my life, going out has been beneficial as well. A trip to the library was a breath of cool air anyway. Seeing people and interacting with them to some degree, as always brightens my day.

I mentioned this little fact elsewhere and someone reminded me a small detail that needed to be mentioned. The library is a gathering place of sorts. People I recognize from the mission and others that are obviously homeless or other wise disadvantaged hang out at the library. It's cool during hot summer days. It's also a warming station of sorts in the winter.

When you stay at the Mission, you are kicked out onto the streets at 7:30 A.M. until around 5:30 in the evening. I am pretty certain other shelters operate the same way. So to stay off the streets, especially when the weather is extreme, many go to the library. Not necessarily to read or use the computers but to just get off the street.

Sometimes they are there to get a little sleep in a safe place. No one bothers with them. People, like the library staff, seem to know that some folks have to stay awake when it's dark. If you're shocked by this, maybe that's a good thing. Some of these people are miles and years away from the white picket fences that may have been parts of their lives.

Then again, some of these people haven't a clue as to what that white picket fence bullshit means to many of us.

Now, there is a little dirty secret that not many people are aware of until recently. The Mission along with a few other shelters has a bit of a problem with bed bugs. Well not just the Mission or the other homeless shelters. For almost a year an exterminators truck was parked outside of the Methodist Towers. It's primarily housing for the elderly and people with special needs.

For a period of time I thought one of the exterminators employees had moved into that building.

Bed bugs are traveling bugs. They have circled the globe on the backs of us. Well not really on our backs, but in the seams of our clothing, the creases in our luggage or the bottom of a duffel bag. Then they jump off of our clothes and relocate.

The places they relocate to is quite amazing to even me. It has been recently published that the Erie County Library has a bed bug problem. With that in mind, I avoid the nice cushy chairs.

I have enough going on in my life right now and don't need an insect problem to add to my distractions. But going to the library, picky about where I sit and wiping the chair down is part of the deal. Even the hard wooden chairs in the computer lab might be at risk. I do take precautions, and wipe the chairs down.

I'm not the only one...

I do laugh when some nice, proper, middle class suburban type flops down in one of the nice cushy comfie chairs. Especially the ones who sneer at the folks peacefully sleeping. I'm sure the stories they'll tell, like when their kids came home with head lice, will circulate when the exterminators van pulls up to their house.

Then again, maybe they did bring them back from Jamaica.

I don't do that drug, but...

I should qualify that by saying I don't actively pursue or consume heroin.

Not not to say that I have never done it. I have by snorting it and yes, have injected that stuff as well. I know the risks and certainly knew what the risks were at the times I was experimenting. It isn't a high I dislike. One might say it is a buzz I really enjoyed way too much.

That was the thing though, as I had enough going on with the pipe as my best friend. My life and outlooks were screwed up enough without adding heroin to my plate. I also had an aversion to poking holes in my body. Not the same needle phobia I had fostered as a child, but that fear has served me well in many respects.

Added to that is all the hassle of finding a good vein. That's too much work for me and I now consider that part of my preservation plan. Survival through sheer laziness.

But I recently heard that a child of an old acquaintance died from using herion. I have no idea how it was ingested, although most times this sort of thing happens if from IV use. Appararently the dope was tainted with some sort of poison. I also don't really know many details beyond that or how involved this kid was in their habit.

There is a lot of crap in the crack that comes into this area. I do recook a great deal of the product that I smoke. It's too soft, or the color is off or the taste is off. You can sort of tell when the shit isn't quite right.

So, like junkies, at times it is a crap shoot when I inhale that crap.

Heroin is a whole different game though. I really don't know of anyway to check the quality of that kind of drug. In the old days, if someone died of an overdose, everyone wanted to know who sas the seller. That was so the other junkies could buy some of it for themselves.

A bit of marketing wrapped in black humor.

My experiences first hand with what can go wrong when, in particular shooting heroin is certainly limited. Junkies for some strange reason are a bit more vengeful. My stints in rehabs had increased my curiosity about using it, Often though, listening to those war stories many were often accompanied by tragedy as well.

Hot shots, as in cooking the dope in acid or loading up a ten bags in a fix were part and parcel of some of these tales. Some of the reasons given were from how snitches and narcs were dealt with to people whose tollerence had gotten to the point that they needed to load a shot that way.

Anyways, someone mentioned the passing of an old acquaintance's child from having used some tainted heroin. While all the details were not available enough was known to lead to me think about what they are putting in that shit for cut or who did this kid piss off.

The games people engage in around illegal drugs are often not fun.

So, while I don't owe any slingers money at the moment, it did get close. Don has been on his own little run to destruction and not really on top of things. Generally that means he'll slide a few bucks my way. He hates the thought of being the only one he knows who is it ripped in some fashion. He also uses the fact that he is willing to lend me money to entice me do some things he no longer is really capable of doing. Like walking to the store for a pack of smokes.

I'll be damned if I'll go to the liquor store for him. Besides he already has his man servant for that chore.

As I reread through this my mind is just shutting down from the stupidity and pain that comes from that buzz and what we go through. Our pain and their pain. And the pain it seems we all are trying to run away from.

Moo and other people

Well, Moo is starting to be people to me.

With that said, she is obviously in heat. The constant meowing and yowling is some sort of way to communicate her need. A need that she isn't even fully aware of I suspect. But constant attention, weird posturing and strange looks are the order of the day. Along with that is her talking in tones varying from pleading to demanding to questioning to just plain " Hi!"have been part of the scenery around here for the past few days.

A comment in a previous post suggested that having her fixed would make both of us happy. I cannot disagree with that fact at all.

Other things have been happening though that have given me reason to pause and think, "What the hell are you thinking?" One biggie, after breaking Rule #1 a couple of weeks ago, is accepting fronts from the Dude. In other words I have now broken Rule #1 and Rule #2 with little regard for the consequences.

That is not a good place to be. It will indeed put me and my comfort and the roof over my head in peril quicker than any other mistake or mishap I can invent or stumble into. This all is part and parcel of trying to exist in this crackhead life. And at times, it's a motherfucker.

So while I have been given a promise of sorts from the person who helped me break Rule #1, that isn't going to go far in keeping me afloat if push comes to shove. Added to that my safety net person has their own life issues they are trying to deal with. My dependence on their aid to keep funds at arms length is being sorely tested. Too many calls for cash and other forms of help have made this relationship strained.

Not that I'm borrowing cash from them. Not them anyways, but between the money lost, money borrowed and fronts from the Dude, this and next month are going to be interesting to say the least. Interesting in that Chinese curse sort of interesting.

Added to that is the fact that my available cash for the month is now gone, gone, gone. The plus side is that I have enough food and other necessities for Moo and myself, along with having enough smokes, or supplies to make smokes to carry me through.

Because, a crackhead without crack and cigarettes is not a pretty picture.

One other thing. The comments received here are much appreciated. I have made a decision though to avoid replying or indeed commenting myself. Part of the reason is I don't want to debate or indeed detract from those comments offered. I can babble on all I want to in the space up above, but need to let the words of others soak in a bit.

Who knows, maybe something will stick.

And a cat named Moo.

Actually the cat's full name is Moo Goo Gai Pan.

Offended?

Tough.

After a long history in my home town of cats being found ready to be cooked in some ethnic restaurants, I thought he name rather fitting. As in, if you don't keep mice away, you may just be a meal.

Just kidding.

Sorta'.

The first night was a bit trying. She is a 10 month old kitty who is used to being with other cats. Three others to be exact, but the family I acquired her from found the burden of keeping that many felines a bit more of a burden for them than they were prepared to undertake. Moo, which is the name I gave her was left to this generous family when her original owner passed away.

And had she been taken to a shelter, who knows how long her life span would have been. Not a happy thought. They have more cats to deal with than they have willing adopters or funds to keep them for any length of time.

But her entire first night was spent meowing and howling. Perhaps for her buddies she was separated from or maybe the changed environment spooked her. I slept little and was frustrated to no end. Added to that, I thought the poor thing was going to run away at the first opportunity that presented itself.

With all the attention or perhaps the competition for attention she endured, it took one night of constant crying and hiding away the following day for her to come around. She had been hiding under my bed and no amount of coaxing and teasing with a toy would get her out of her safe spot.

Imagine my surprise when my neighbor came over, looked under the bed and Moo came running out and jumped into his hands. Actually I was pissed off. I later realized, as he has a cat of his own, that it probably was the scent of his critter that shook her loose. She did come from a 4 cat family after all.

To add to my discomfort was the fact that she strutted right into my neighbors apartment and cozied right up to their cat. Thankfully no fur flew, but I thought it funny that she ate his food and took a crap in his litter box. I commented that she probably left a toothbrush behind as well.

So after getting her back home and enduring a bit of her meowing at the door to go visit again, she does seem to have settled in. She is eating well, uses her own litter box and is learning places to hang out when she isn't crying for attention.

During the time it has taken me to write this entry, she has jumped onto my lap 3 different times to be rubbed and scratched. It is still obvious that there is something missing, as she still is meowing at my for something, but beyond food and the attention I have given here so far, I clueless as to what that want might be.

In time we'll both figure this arrangement out.

Now to avoid rolling over onto her in the middle of the night. Yeah, last night she crawled into bed with me. I never knew it until I flopped over in my sleep and was awoken by her howl.

Still a damned sight better than being woken up by a crack hustler trying to work me for something I don't have or bringing something or someone into my house I don't want.

For the moment anyways.