A Day at the Park

At this point of time in previous months I would have been holed up in my home. Taking hits or waiting for the crack man. Doing mental battle with the IBI and avoiding anyone that might react unfavorably to my being high. Drawing the blinds and kicking myself in the ass for missing out on a beautiful day.

Yesterday though, was a day to enjoy like other people who weren't saddled with crack and the bullshit that went with it. So I took a stroll over to Perry Square.

The weather was perfect with temperatures in the mid 70s. The ornamental fruit trees were in colorful blossom. Oaks and maples were practically in full leaf as well. Shady and sunny spots alternated all through the park so everyone had ample choice in picking the right spot for themselves.

I found a great spot by the gazebo with the sun warming my back.

I enjoyed watching the people who wandered into and back out of the park. The moms and dads with strollers and perhaps an extra rug rat or two trailing along. The young ladies and men making their way to meeting friends or just hanging out to enjoy the surroundings. Younger girls, from the nearby college, trying to get a head start on their summer tan and tempting melanoma in their later years.

Older folks from the apartments in the downtown area made their way through or enjoyed sitting on the benches to read, people watch and enjoy the warmth. Office workers, mostly from City Hall and other government offices enjoying lunch or just a break from the constraints of their office environment.

Homeless people too were in evidence. Some I knew from the City Mission as past residents or from having lunch at the mission. They gathered in the gazebo sharing some conversation, beers and a little weed. Many would be there for the night.

It was more than fair weather that invited the possibility that they would be there all night. Some would stay by choice but others had no other option.

There were others who were scouting possible benches that would serve as their bed for the night. It was a bit early to stake claims, but as night approached they would be camped out in their chosen spot. As the night progressed food, beer, weed and yes a bit of crack would be shared amongst them.

Babooshka was there as well, doing her specialized form of panhandling. Who could possible refuse this cute little old lady a dollar or spare change as she hobbles along with her cane, . She and I eat at the same restaurants, so she doesn't bother me for money. I alway greet her with a "Hi gorgeous!" Her reply to me is always "You are a king."

King of what?

So I read my book, did a bit of people watching and enjoyed the heat from the sun on my neck and shoulders. A simple pleasure that requires no money. Just a bit of time with a somewhat clear mind and no monster raging to be fed. All it takes is a desire to be in a place where one can get a tiny glimpse of the world. A world, at least at that moment was without crack.

Everyone should enjoy some time in the park.

It's a lot easier when crack is taken out of the equation. Reading this entry a few months or a few weeks down the road may stall my making that call to the crack dealer. In many respects this blog has helped slow that down more than other methods I've tried.

Seeing where I've been has helped me to see where I would like to go in the future.

This is what I did...

I got my money on Tuesday. I had money orders made out for rent, electric and medical bills. Enough cigarettes were bought to get me through the month. I got cash to pay off debts owed to people who gave me money through the month or bought me smokes and other things.

And I got high.

The fact that I did get high doesn't please me, but it is what it is.

I'm a crackhead dammit.

What does please me is that I used less and spent less than in previous months. I got money to someone who won't let me have it back to buy crack. It was less money than I had planned to put away, but more than I've ever accomplished in the past.

In the past my totals for squirreled away funds equalled $0.00. Now I have $200.00 for a rainy day. Next month my goal is to at least match what I put away this month.

While I don't want to get too excited, things are looking up for the Erie Crackhead.

Too much optimism is a dangerous thing for a crackhead.

It's Getting Close.

Yep, it's getting close to payday.

I have plans in place to insure all my bills are paid. Rent, electric, doctor and pharmacy. Things that most definitely need to be covered. Without those financial commitments covered, any semblance of a normal life will evaporate.

Buying enough smokes to get me through until my next check is something that should be done as well. There are friends that will spot me a carton here and there. That doesn't make me feel any better knowing full well that I could have covered those costs before squandering that money on maintaining a buzz.

So again the lists are made.

Groceries to carry me through. Planning in that regard, as well as an occasional visit to a food bank keep me fed. Getting money squirreled away for things and normal life activities beyond the bare necessities has been a problem. It also has been the reason that borrowing for odds and ends, like cigarettes, through the course of a month has been pretty constant.

I don't like owing anyone money. Naturally, even if my bank account isn't overdrawn, those repayments put me behind. Not a lot, but enough.

This month is also complicated by the fact that I may have to return to Dallas this coming month. I really don't want to go. Not going though would mean that some really rotten MFer would get away with doing a serious wrong. This jerk needs to go to prison. I hope to help make that happen.

Another thing to think about while I make my budget.

Another thing to think about before calling my Dude.

A Vaccine!

Wouldn't that be great.

A shot or a pill that would either neutralize the effects of crack or decrease the desire to use. A wonder drug to help people like me tread a healthier path. Something that might have the power to distract me from even calling the dealer.

Well that might be a bit too powerful of an outcome for the most strident anti-drug supporter.

Well, maybe not...

But a medicine that would seriously diminish the effects would be welcomed by this Crackhead. And I did to a small degree experience that effect with a medication designed for smoking cessation. Along with slightly diminished euphoric effect it did blunt some of the cravings for cocaine. That drug of course is Chantix.

I did stop smoking cigarettes while using that drug and didn't smoke for about about a year afterwards. I also did notice that cocaine cravings were a bit diminished, but not entirely. And while smoking crack wasn't as satisfactory while using Chantix, there was still a buzz.

Nonetheless the desire to use and the crack's effects were lessened.

I'm certain that studies were done to test the effects on Chantix with active crack and powder cocaine users. A GOOGLE search is certain to bring up some information in that regard. It wasn't until sometime later that a light went on that the medication had an effect on the high I was getting. Unfortunately hind site is 20/20.

Scripts for Chantix come to an end as well.

I was able to secure a thirty day supply from someone else after my 90 day course ran out. Then after perhaps another 30 days the Chantix was gone it was Crackhead City again with business as usual. Personal circumstances at that time may have done a lot to put me in drug seeking and consumption overdrive to boot. Separation, pending second divorce, boredom and no real life activities like a job will do a number on the best of "recovery" programs.

A lifetime supply of Chantix probably wouldn't have prevented that train wreck.

Considering some of the possible side effects, the manufacturer probably wouldn't recommend a dose a day for the rest of one's life either. But then again, it is about money isn't it? From user, dealer, distributor then to South American cartel and around to rehab, counseling clinics and pharmaceutical companies.

Cha-ching!

If you want more information about vaccines, click the title of the entry. It will take you to Addiction Inbox.

It's a lot more scientific than anything you'll find here.

Oh yeah, I'm back up to a pack of cigarettes a day as well...

My Compartmentalized Life

Huh!?!?

Compartmentalized. You know, those separate sections that you keep separate from each other and the people in your life as a whole. Well, maybe you don't look at your life as different compartments, but...

A few years ago I had many compartments. Business person, family man, community pillar, and art and music aficionado. Oh yes! And crackhead. I was a different person in each setting. While this may not have been a multiple personality disorder, it sure as hell wasn't healthy.

In most normal people lives there are facets, parts of their lives that required different duties and responsibilities. But as normal people,these blended together and made the whole person. They enjoy a complete and whole life with divergent interests and responsibilities. But through all those facets they are one person.

There are people who can describe what compartmentalization means to them much more clearly than I. For a better description, click the title.

As time went by and my drug using increased my other facets, or compartments shrunk. My smoking crack and all the things that revolved around that life took over. Crack squeezed out anything else that competed with it.

Funny thing is I was the last one to know. I thought I was the perfect actor. The different masks cracked, so to speak, and everyone saw what or who was hiding behind them.

So here I am. Trying to if not seal up that one compartment, at least shrink it to a manageable size. Trying to explore those other compartments that are recoverable and turn them into facets of the whole me.

Some things will never be part of my life again. That's not going to stop me from trying to maximize those areas that can make me at least a little bit more a complete person.

That's why I'm here. That's why the past six months or so have been given over to telling you folks what it's like living this kind of life. Also it's about letting you know when I've gotten high and when I've been straight.

So it's important to tell you all, as well as myself before I forget. Last Monday and Tuesday I did get high. If I didn't write that down, sure as shit, I would have been the first one to forget.

Six months from now, or maybe in a year remembering this may be important to me.

It might even save my life.

I hate getting up on a soapbox

But Erie Crackhead is pissed off.

There is an article on a widely read blog from a TV Doc, who is trying to defend his good, commercially viable name. He made a suggestion regarding how a young female celebrity should be brought into treatment.

My guess is that the Doc's publicist probably wrote the post. With the way the entry was artfully crafted, they earned their money as well.

His name won't be mentioned here, as I certainly don't want to do anything to increase this clown's ratings. The blog' website or title won't be mentioned here either for reasons to be mentioned later.

Getting back to the story though, this doc suggested that the woman's father plant drugs in her car and then call the police.

That is just ethically and morally wrong. And while at times it has little to do with ethics or morals, it would also be legally wrong. The Doc thought this was justifiable though, as this would get this woman into the legal system and initiate an intervention.

This would also allow this doctor to come into the courtroom as a hero and plead with the judge to release her for long term treatment under the Good Doctor's care. There probably would be carefully written contracts offering the young celeb 6 figures for her cooperation.

Many congratulatory hand shakes and back slaps might also ensue, as this coup would help TV ratings as well.

How sad it is that we derive our entertainment from the misery of others. Much sadder are the leaches that enjoy huge profits from those same miseries. There aren't sufficient words to describe my anger at these parasites.

Now for the website.

I so badly wanted to express my opinion on this whole sordid affair. All one needed to do was register a user name, an email address and other general information. Part of the process was most certainly designed so they could sell the Erie Crackhead some good or service.

Maybe they knew that I have no money.

Erie Crackhead was not a suitable screen name for this stodgy, established internet bastion of thought and opinion. I did consider changing my clothes, so to speak, but being a chameleon is part of what made me the Erie Crackhead.

So to quote Popeye, "I yam what I yam and that's all I yam."

If my appearance excludes me from giving my opinion somewhere, regardless of how insightful or ignorant, well fuck 'em. The whole range of opinion is there now and the world won't stop spinning if my voice isn't included. It's just that my bloated ego yearns to be heard...

Note to self: Get over it!

Sadly, the internet is no longer the commercial free Wild, Wild West of ideas and thought of it's pioneering days. Today it is a pasteurized, homogenized and sanitized superhighway, littered with billboards everywhere you turn. In many respects it has turned into a profit center to milk cash from it's participants and travelers. Thoughts and ideas are buried or sold under it's ads.

Lady Bird Johnson would have a stroke if she were here today.

Now, if I can only get someone to slip the link to this post into that blog.

Some days are good, some days are bad...

Today was a good day!

Actually the past few days have been good. Plenty of smokes, plenty of food and no cravings to use. A visit from my neighbor Don broke up some of the monotony. He even got me out for a bit and introduced me to another resident of my building.

I took the trolley to the library and ran into another friend of mine from the City Mission. Greg looked to be doing pretty good despite the run in he had with the cops. The situation was pretty pathetic but Greg has friends in high places. This will all turn out pretty good for him.

It seems as though he was arrested for public intoxication. The funny thing is that Greg doesn't drink or use drugs. Well the drugs he does use are prescribed by his doc. He doesn't abuse them and is on the whole a pretty conscientious guy.

He is disabled and walks poorly. He sometimes staggers and wobbles, but usually gets where he wants. The scary thing for me is that he walks better than I do but I use a cane. He also suffers from a speech impediment, so unless you listen carefully he may not be fully understood.

So the other night hes walking home when the police pull up to him. Eventually the cops weren't interested in anything beyond the fact that Greg was a bit unstable on his feet. He tried to explain the problems he had, but The Man was hearing nothing of this. Greg's speech problems are exasperated when he's upset or excited.

Instead of just taking him home, which is the right thing to do if they thought Greg was a danger to himself or others, they just yanked him downtown to be booked or charged or whatever it is that they do when they pick someone up. To add insult to injury about 6 of our city's finest amused themselves by ridiculing and making fun of my friend.

Whether he was stinking drunk or in his case just disabled, that was just wrong.

I thought the police had new policies in place about their behavior. Evidently they thought those policies where for the other cops.

There is a silver lining in this all.

Greg is a vet.

He rightly takes advantage of the services of the local VA hospital. The VA in Erie is a very proactive group in regard to the vets they serve. Greg went to his counselor and told her of his experience with the City of Erie Police. Apparently she thought this incident was as wrong as the Erie Crackhead felt it was.

Greg has a hearing coming up shortly and he won't be there alone. The VA will be there to support him as he so richly deserves. Along with his counselor his physician will be there in his defense. The VA is also sending a lawyer along as well.

On top of that the local office of the ACLU is taking an interest in Greg's piddly public intoxication case and the abusive behavior he suffered as a result of his arrest. There is also a team of law students who are taking an interest in this case as well. Greg tried to mention which law school they were from, unfortunately I missed the school's name.

No matter, the more the merrier!

My hope is that this little public intoxication case will make it into our local paper. It might be too much to ask for TV coverage of this, but one can hope.

Maybe then the next time the cops pick up a suspected drunk they at the very least act with a touch of sensitivity. First of all they should check out to make sure that the unlucky soul getting there attention is not suffering in some other way and not drunk. There are a pile of physical as well as mental problems that might give folks the wrong impression.

Greg certainly would have welcomed a ride in a cruiser in those cold winter days when moving was difficult and the footing was uncertain. There were many days like that when I would have welcomed a ride in a cop car.

But you know, there's never a cop around when you need one.

OK...Back off my soapbox.

It's Good to Get Outside

That is exactly what I did too...

My neighbor and I went to the food bank and stopped at his favorite convenience store. The food bank, which is open on Tuesdays and Thursday was not busy when we arrived. No lines, no waiting, just get in and back out again.

My neighbor has been a little more negligent about getting out than me. The problem with him is the vodka. Like me, when he has a few extra bucks, it goes toward his "medicine." That shit is gonna' kill him. He also is of the belief that trying to get vodka down my throat will cure me of smoking crack.

I don't think so, but that's another story for another time.

Our stop at the store consisted of shooting the breeze with the clerk. This was somewhat limited, as lunch time traffic hindered any real conversation. So after his buying a frozen pizza and my buying a scratch off, we get on our way and the clerk get's back to his real customers.

Besides, I don't want to be an impediment to commerce.

My neighbor, who I'll call Don is a long time resident of this part of town. He knows most of the people who live in our building. He also knows quite a few people who we pass on the street. Some of those folks seem to be the type of person that getting acquainted with would be a good idea for me. Others are not.

That's no different than any other neighborhood in any area in any town.

Stopping and chatting with the characters we pass gives Don a chance to rest. Both of our speed walking days are long behind us so I don't mind the frequent stops. I need the rest as much as Don. While our disabilities are vastly different our inability to go very far is similar. It takes us about 10 to 15 minutes to walk a freakin' block.

A healthier person would get inpatient and leave us in the dust. They could probably cover the same ground and accomplish the same tasks in 20 minutes to a half hour. It took us an hour and a half. With that in mind we seem to be a good match for these little excursions.

But there's no rush. We have no pending important appointments. There's no hot date waiting for us. No one is holding a watch against us and if there were, we wouldn't give a damned anyway.

Besides, it's good to get outside.

Taking a Risk

This blog is a risk.

When I started blogging back in October, it was a way to get things off my chest. A way to vent my frustrations over the path that I had followed. The risk in that undertaking was choosing to make the blog public. Something inside me said that was the right thing to do.

Anybody and everybody could peek into this place and see what life was like for your typical low-down crackhead. Exposing myself, regardless of how anonymously it was accomplished, frightened me then and it still does today.

There were a few online friends who knew of this blog's existence and they encouraged me to continue. In many ways I'm glad I did. It has helped me take a look at myself in a way that never has been done before. It also helped me to be honest not only with whoever reads this, but also with myself.

It should be noted that those who were first made aware of the blog and offered encouragement knew me only as a screen name. We all are contributors to a closed, private email support group that has been very helpful to me. In some respects we all are in similar situations. Fighting to be abstinent or at the very least to practice some measure of harm reduction in our use.

Somehow the idea struck that this blog might be of some use to others besides myself. Whether that is true or not remains to be seen, but time will tell. In an effort to get the blog out there a bit more I took another risk.

I told people who knew the real me about this place. People who don't smoke crack or live in the margins of society. People who have seen my struggles and have had real face to face conversations with me. People who have witnessed my bouncing around from town to town in a dismal effort to escape the drugs, the dealers and the bill collectors.

People who I really like and they seem to really like me despite all my poor qualities. People who belong to social networking sites and would recommend this blog to their friends. These people also know my real name, address, phone number. They could also pick me out of a police lineup or identify my body.

What brought on this particular post about the risks I've taken and am going to take?

I read a writer's blog posted on the local newspaper. The author of that blog Lenore Skomal has instigated some thoughts in my remaining brain cells about things worthwhile. She elicits things that are more about what and who you are than about what you write. She also offers challenges.

Like taking a risk.

I know about taking risks. Every time that pipe is hit is a risk. While nothing is being said about this being any less frightening, the risks taken here are much healthier.

Click on the title to see what I mean.

Didn't get out today.

I did get out yesterday (Friday) though.

It had been over a week since being out in the fresh air and sunshine. Well, there wasn't too much sunshine and it was actually snowing a bit. But things needed to be printed, and since I don't have a printer a trip to the library was necessary.

I had some issues with my debit card as well. So a friend took me to my bank to get those problems resolved. I also got a twenty out and called the Dude. That was a waste. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. Well I sort of know why I bother, which is why this blog exists as well.

After a crappy night of sleep I got up and tinkered with this virus ravaged machine for awhile. Then my alky neighbor called to see if he could stop over. Sure why not...

He shows up at my door with a pack of smokes, which is a good thing. He also is carrying a 1/2 gallon of his cheap ass vodka. That is not a good thing. Drinking and getting drunk are not my favorite activities. Getting clumsy and stupid are usually the end result. Falling and getting hurt are always a possibility. Also trying to talk my neighbor or someone else out of $20.00 for a little crack are also possible.

Well, I didn't get too drunk and I didn't get too stupid. I didn't ask for twenty dollars from him or anyone else. I did take an overly long nap though, and that messed my day up a bit.

So, no going out today. No cleaning up of the apartment. No major cooking of any kind. Just sleeping and then turning on the TV to watch NASCAR. The race was good, but my guy Mark Martin didn't win. Mark placed fourth, so things are looking up for him.

Anyway, tomorrow I do have to get out of this place.

Who are the real criminals?

The real victims or casualties of the "War on Drugs" are usually the weakest. The ones who get nailed by the cops and other legal authorities are more likely than not the end users.

The jails are being overcrowded by harmless potheads, paranoid crackheads and the like who's worst offense was to be in possession of a small amount of some illegal or controlled substance. Most of these unfortunates probably never did a thing in their life to warrant arrest for any other crime. Only a very small minority of crackheads will rob a convenience store for a hit.

Most of us just endure until some money shows up.

Anyway, the Erie Crackhead isn't going to go into a sermon about the failings of the "War on Drugs." There are people who are much smarter bout such things than he. Addiction Inbox has an excellent posting about it's failings and the consequences we suffer as a result. You can check it out here:

No Urine Test for Addiction

It does piss me off that to get a job flippin' burgers you have to pass a piss test, credit check and background check. Is it me, or is the world today a place where we're put under a microscope and any variation from perfect dooms your future?

No wonder the welfare rolls are clogged and homeless shelters are overflowing.

OK. Back to the usual psychotic rantings you know and love.

I think.

You're Not Quite Sure

But something isn't quite right with a friend, a family member, a lover or a co-worker. Their behavior isn't what it should be or at least what it used to be. You suspect that there is something going on that shouldn't be.

You think that your _________ (fill in the blank) may be smoking CRACK!

At this time I am not going to address what you should do with those suspicions. My advice in that regard isn't worth the pixels dancing across your monitor. What I will talk about is how you might be able to better confirm those suspicions.

Some of the things described here are markers for any drug user or abuser, but I know crack and that is going to be what's talked about here. This also is about physical signs of use. Behaviors can be explained away but hard evidence is much tougher to disregard.


So....

Is the person you're concerned about carrying around a few too many lighters and they don't smoke? Or maybe they smoke cigarettes and never seem to have a lighter on them at all, regardless of how many you may have given them or you have seen them buy. A crackhead can never have too many lighters and almost always seem to be out of them. They may often have a collection of used up lighters or parts of lighters strewed about their living space. Crackheads are also notorious lighter thieves.

They are sorta' like the guy at the office with the pencil eating pocket.

The suspected crackhead in your life doesn't know a spark plug from a dipstick, but their hands look more like a diesel mechanic's than a hair dresser's.

Unusually dirty fingers and fingernails didn't get that way from changing the oil in their car. More likely than not they got dirty from cleaning their pipe or stretching the screen. The soot and burnt up Brillo gets ground into their fingers and doesn't always get out with a simple rinsing of their hands. Calluses on their thumbs, index and middle fingers are markers as well. Blisters from burns on the fingers are also common to the crackhead as well.

You can't "Flic Your Bic" a few thousand times without it showing up somewhere.

Another thing is that I've drank enough coffee to fill a super tanker, but have yet to burn my lips because of that. I have burned my lips on a crack pipe on numerous occasions. So the excuse that the coffee was too hot doesn't make it, especially if some of the other signs I've talked about are present.

There is always Chore Boy around but they've never scrubbed a pot in their life.

Chore Boy is the screen of choice for most crack smokers. It's used to hold the rock in the pipe so it can be vaporized to smoke. When the screen is cut it invariably leaves some crumbs. While every effort is made to clean up the mess afterwards a few small pieces escape unnoticed. These copper refugees end up on the floor, trapped in the carpet or under the floor mat of their car. Sometimes those little buggers are even clinging to the crackheads clothes.

A fellow "client" at a rehab I went through made this observation. "After a nuclear war the only things that will survive are cockroaches and Chore."

Financial matters are another matter entirely.

If your suspected crackhead is always broke, that in and of itself isn't reason to suspect a problem. Constantly borrowing money, usually in multiples of $20.00 is a better marker for crack use. Checking accounts that are overdrawn more often than not, calls from collection agencies or constant use of "payday loans" are good indicators as well. Combine that with any or all of the signs mentioned above and you have a crack head in your midst.

Money that comes up missing or personal items that disappear often occurs long after the cat's out of the bag. If things are at that point and you're still not sure you're dealing with a cracker, you may need some professional help for yourself.

There are other less physical evidences of illicit drug use. Those are behaviors that probably be common to any addict. I am not equipped to adequately go into those things. I leave that to the more learned psychologists, social workers and others who proclaim some expertise in those areas.

I'll just stick with the physical signs so you can know who you may be dealing with. You'll no longer be a Mushroom. "A Mushroom is kept in the dark and feed a lot of bullshit."

I got that off of a refrigerator magnet.

What you do with the information is on you now. I am no expert in how to deal with people who are in the same boat as me. Well I do have some feelings about what to do, but those ideas aren't going to be shared right now.

Maybe having them read this blog will enlighten them to some degree. You know, give them a glimpse of how crappy life can be as a Crackhead.

I’ve been given a laptop!

It certainly isn’t shiny and new.

It has some basic problems that will have to be fixed, but it’s my own computer! Once it gets working in proper order, that will certainly increase the amount of time I can be online and the things that I can accomplish will certainly increase as well.

As a matter of fact, this thing is being a pain in the ass. Spaces showing up where spaces are not really welcome and the cursor running away down the screen in some race against an invisible opponent. Add to that there are beeps coming out of it like a smoke alarm.

Probably my neighbors are ready to call the fire department.

And I’m gonna’ have to buy some Preparation H.

I have also been reading a book about blogging, It’s called “The Complete Guide to Blogging” from The Huffington Post. Following their advice I’m also going to include a link to their site. It is http://www.huffingtonpost.com/theblog/.

I also am going to add links to places like "Addiction Inbox” which sends out an email periodically. Their information interesting to say the least. It does give me some insight into some of my behaviors. This is not used to rationalize to to excuse those behaviors, but knowing more makes “Just Say No!“ a little easier once in awhile.

Yes, even the Erie Crackhead has said no occasionally.

Now to my faithful readers . There are not a whole legion of you, but from what I can tell there is something of my message getting out to the world. The site officially lists five followers besides myself. There are also comments from others not on that list. Their positive and encouraging comments are part of what keep me posting to this place as often as possible.

With the hard cold facts of what is happening in my life hopefully you folks can see that there is indeed a better way to live. Some posts are depressing and some have a touch of humor but taken as a whole maybe you will have learned a lesson that came too late for me.

There are those who have said that it’s not too late to turn things around.

Maybe they are right but after all the losses of things that were important and other things that really had no meaning to me weighs a body down. Most importantly was the loss of family and friends who once thought that there was a chance for me.

It would be easy to say that they turned their backs on me.

That’s a lie. The fact is good case could be made that I just threw them away. A son who’s marriage was kept a secret from me and had a child, which I may never see.

That hurts.

A daughter who won’t even acknowledge an email. That hurts as well.

Sorry to end on a down note. That’s what life as a crackhead is like.

The more you know, the better off you’ll be.

A Long Weekend

Easter is this Sunday. With the library being closed then as well as Good Friday it's going to be hard to do much on this site.

That is good news and it's also bad news. The good news is that I haven't used in the past few days. Friday was when I did my last hit. Now I am being abstinent. It would be wonderful to say that this is happening by choice.

The fact of the matter is I'm broke.

You can't get high without money. Well, let me correct that statement. You can get high without money. It involves inviting crackheads into your home or working the dealer for credit.

Neither of those options are attractive to me at the moment. Having used both methods to kept myself geekin' n tweakin' on crack I know the outcomes are not favorable to my peace of mind.

You get caught up in a world that looks OK from a distance when all that bullshit is happening in someone else's home. Now you've brought it into your home. That changes the entire game and experience has taught me that that is not a good place to go.

I'm not that desperate. Not yet anyway.

Anyway, with the library schedule and uncertainty of proper transportation there may not be mush else going on here until this Monday.

Have a nice Easter, if that's your preference. Or just have a nice weekend. The weather in Erie is great right now, so I'm going to enjoy myself.

The spice jelly beans will certain help!