A mixed bag of events

And these events have been both positive and negative. A few may have even been neutral in their end results.

One positive event was that the Credit Gods smiling on me for a little while. The simple fact is that I will shortly have a new, reconditioned laptop computer. Not only would it make my continued writing to this blog a bit more comfortable. 

Doing this shit on a phone, while not impossible, is a bit more challenging than I am willing to engage in...

On the negative side, I again have been schooled on how trusting people, especially people who have an addiction.

To be completely honest, the substance or behavior that is the root of their addiction matters little. The possible exception are the junkies. They love and hate being referred to in that way, as a badge of honor it has its merits. As a slur, issued by non-junkies, it is used as a bludgeon on those misguided souls.

I could elaborate on some of the other addicts not to be trusted. But to do so may possibly increase their urges. In particular those who are under the spell of some interestingly delicious  behavioral passions.

Oh!
When they sing about food in some of those old blues tunes, they weren't singing about food...

Speaking of food, I shop for groceries with the mission of having to feed one person.  So it may look like there is an abundance of supplies at check time, with a few folks thinking that their ill gotten acquiersitions would never be missed, it doesn't take long for the fridge to be bare.

Anther item that seems to be popular with my light fingered friends are phone chargers.

Then we have the fashion plates who steal eaach other's clothes. I could go on, but the fact is that this episode is being written on a phone.

That should change by the end of the week. Which is a positive, that is wrapping a negative that is surrounding a positive, etc., etc, etc...

Sounding like Ul Brenner in The King And I.

No, I don't want to die!

And I ain't dead yet...

With no plans of going that way and swearing that some lines in the sand would not be crossed, here we are. Twice now I have turned colors, stopped breathing and had CPR performed on me. Once I had to be loaded onto ambulance and taken to an ER to be monitored. Coercion of ones or another was included in the last procedure.

Coercion, in the choices given me were to ride in an ambulance or in the back of a cop car.

The circumstances leading to the last OD event were the result of me trying to be a good guy. A deal gone bad and my trying to maintain my reputation as a mostly good guy in a world of not so good guy. Added to that is being done dirty by a drug dealing thug who possessed no moral scrupples.

Excuse me for a second while remind myself if this fact in my world. "Good guys finish last."

So in an effort to get myself in the right light, as well as getting a bit for me. A second small business entrepreneur was contacted and orders were placed. Samples were given and and products were judged in regards to quality. A tester was passed to me of the heroin that was to be distributed.

Well, never ever believe that one cannot overdose when snorting that drug.

A small piece of paper, folded to hold a bit of the drug was handed to me. The amount seemed pretty insignificant. A small pile of greyish white powder poured out onto my desk.

Hmmm...


I rolled a PostIt note into a tube and stuck one end up my nose. My left nostril to be exact.  Sticking my finger over the right side of my nose, I inhaled sharply. The powdered drug shot into my nasel cavity.

I'm good, I thought...

About five minutes later things began to get exciting. Not so much for me, but for the people around me. Actually some if them ran out of the house. And some sort of thought I was worth saving. This came from a most unexpected person .

I mean, she did think that I set her up.

But she started giving me CPR.  I had physical proof. The bruise on my chest was a mildly painful reminder of my brush with that black caped crusader. This was supported by the testimony of a neighbor.

He really didn't want to be there either .

I could continue, but I won't. The ensuring adventure wasn't all that exciting, and the results are obvious. That is why I can repeat...

I ain't dead yet...

I really need a real computer

 Having been without a real computer for too long has had a negative effect.

Not feeling comfortable with trying to write this on a phone had kept me away during a particularly unstable period of my life. This has left me feeling vulnerable. While there have been long absences, I thought that not being here wouldn't be a problem for me, and not for my few readers.

That was the lie I fed myself. That neglect had a very negative influence on me and others. On others because of how my treatment of others was dangerously close to being selfish. I was using a new, to me street drug rthat made me feel superior to those around me.

It also permitted others to use me like some type of tool.

So,stumbling with fat fingers over a tiny keyboard, I struggle to make myself heard. Not just to you either...

But to myself.

Not writing these feelings and thoughts out loud has made me dead and blind to the danger swimming around me.

Double vision

All this is the work of a twisted mind and that is my thoughts on that.

Now, I didn't specify which mind was involved, but rest assured, the redo was a doozy. It was kind of mentioned that way as well. I can only wonder at the motivation, but crackheads are not the most likeable people in the world.

I guess the same could be made for all addicts. Should I, more correctly, those who engage in activities not that do create something out of the ordinary. One could say that serial killers where, well, addicts.

The past few weeks have been interesting in a off kilter kind of way. Things not adding up and other thing falling too perfectly into place. Yeah, as case could be made for my being labeled a little bit out there. I have been out there and this is different in a boring mundane sort of way.

Wait...
Some of that shit was in no way boring, and some could be labeled down right amusing.

Things went sideways.  Yeah, sideways works wonderfully to describe the events starting with that damned birthday party. I decided that since birthdays were in a limited quantity for me, thyat every one should be celebrated with...

Gusto.

The past birthday celebration was full of that and other things. Bullshit was in copious quantities. So was enthusiasm, lack of enthusiasm, excessive use of drugs and/or  alcohol by most everyone in the planning and set up phase. Cleaning was the prime objective to make my little hovel passable for people who didn't look too closely.

It should also be noted that most of that was piled onto the shoulders of two women that I simultaneously have crushes on. I think Simultaneously works in this case. There is one who seems to be avoiding any suggestion of such and another who could care less and acts unaware.

Unaware is a condition that most people have in my presence. That works out well when you're not being paid too much attention to, as you can observe without too much interference. It does not work out well when it is used as a minor irritant with someone whose knickers you are trying to get into.

But that's another story for another time.

Need less to say, we were to get together sometime around 2 PM the day of the party. I was given a sleep aid to combat the effects of the recreational substances I had ingested. Needless to say, I was asleep until 6PM the night of the party. It should also be noted that a plea for some adults did prove to be sensible in making sure this thing worked out as not planned.

It should be pointed out that I am making a list of possible party planners to use, and another list of party planners not to use. Oddly enough the names on each of these lists are almost identical.

As the evening progressed, my little experiment in social science showed all the possible flaws such a thing could possibly possess. Everything from a wannabe skinhead nazi to the most sexist feminists on the face of the earth managed to make a mark on the evening. One friend feigning anger cleared most of the nearly normal people out at a reasonable after the start of the evening.

This was also the guy who invited the skinhead. There us also certain amount of irony in that as well.

Some people left earlier than I had hoped, others stayed way too long. I think I hit the hay at around 6 AM. No one could have predicted the way it all turned out and that is exactly the kind of event that tickles me the most, Especially if it's someone else's affair.

The following day was a combination of depression, paranoia and other unspeakable imaginings.

With the efforts of two friends, and some adventures of sorts my place is in the best shape it's been in since I arrived from the City Mission. That makes for a happy ending that so may crave.

The thing is that this story ain't over yet...

Then again, it may be me.

Getting weird, I mean.

It is probably wrong to blame all of my thinking on the rewiring my brain is experiencing. It may be my occasional loneliness. It may be my smooth words with strangers that are encountered on the different social networks to which I belong.

But what bothers me is my lack of... I am not sure of what, but  freezing up when I do encounter a real living breathing person makes me feel weird and foolish. with everything considered of course, my age and condition do mot make for great relationship stuff. Physically I have limitations in certain areas.

We were having a conversation about when and where to do acid. One of the group thought we should be in tents, in the woods. I kind of thought, well I guess calling when they are peaking from the comfort of not the tent would have allowed me tp live a bit vicariously.

But the problem of getting me there was resolved.
\
I will have to admit that sex might not be as intense or a pleasurable with me. On the other hand, I of the school all sex is good sex, might get the fuck of his life. Well, that is a high bar, but to have a session of emotionally involved love making is something that has been lacking for me for a very long time. I do crave something beyond good technique and mechanics. The GFE from a top shelf hooker can't equal that experience.

Of course that is the stuff of ackward breakups in some cases.

And this is why I am talking about this on the is blog. I f any of you have read the entire blog, you are aware of the fact that being alone for the most part has been my life. There have been no major complaints on my part for the most part. I don't get tangled up in this sort of thing too often. And it may have happened at some point awhile ago, that has not been as stressful to me as the brief encounters I have experienced in recent history.

The have been other instances where I have had contact with the opposite sex. But those have been ..tranactional. Hey, I'm old and ugly, but I am fun to be with. I just wish I were more than just fun. But when you get right down to it, there couldn't possibly be a better way to check out.

Hey, I've been doing this in one form or another for ..shit over 30 years and I am still alive. A point I proudly make whenever some sweet young thing looks at me with a certain amount of revulsion. The is this and really not much more.

I ain't dead yet.

It is getting weird out there

I really hadn't thought that much about the switch from hard to ice.

Hard is crack and ice is the crystal meth stuff that seems to be gaining popularity in this and probably other cities across the country. It is to a degree, cheaper, lasts longer and is a easier climb to peaking. Crack is brutally quick in delivering a rush that at times takes one's breath away.

Crack can make your ears ring. That is your blood pressure going through the roof.

I tried ice myself. No, that's not exactly correct, as I have dived into this form of stimulant drug. An upper, not a downer or sleepy or whatever other terms that may be floating around out here.It is according to the 'experts,' not like the bikers crank that I tried for the first time when visiting my friend who moved to California. The stuff I huffed up my nose in the home of a part time dealer/user was incredibly painful on your sinuses. You need a  hammer to start breaking it up this crap. Then a hard object is used to crush it slowly into  fine enough powder that could be absorbed by the blood vessels in the sinus cavities.

It should be noted that I am describing my experience from an extremely non-medical or scientific point of view. This is purely anecdotal from my perspective, which admittedly is skewed at times.

At that time, I was not aware that anyone was melting it to inject, nor was I aware of any other means to get that mix of industrial cleaners into your blood stream. Back in those days, I would have doubted that one of those various groups of scooter bums would have been talking about the benefit of shooting it up their ass. Boofing of ice seems to be favored over injecting by some users today.

It is more forgiving in that a hammer is't required as the starting point to make it ingest-able.

But the point of this post was to put a spot light on how many ice users are ex-crack heads who seem to be hanging onto smoking rocks while dabbling with the ice.I have seen, and actually have done this myself. I'll have a bubble pipe sitting next to a straight stem which is next to a joint or weed pipe.

This combination may not be all that healthy. We also add alcohol, which might very well make the whole thing a mess. A very dangerous, toxic mess that might be the combinations that have claimed too many already. There you go, as I almost forgot the heroin some use to get a higher high. That and all the other party favors our kind of special escape artist gulp or inhale into our bodies has to some degree altered our perceptions of ethics and morality.

A  few readers don't care for weed, because they have had uncomfortable experiences with pot. I've heard the stories about how some people get downright scared or suspicious of everyone and  everything. Then we add cocaine to that mix. I know more than a few who have geeked after a few hits of that powerful drug.

Now, ice does not seem to create that level of unfounded fear as quickly as the crack. Here's the thing hat bothers me. While not creating, at least early on a complete distrust of the those who are closest around us, it does happen. Occasionally quickly enough to be recognized as some type of  mild psychosis.

These are the things that are rattling around inside of my mind, and most assuredly  the noodles of a few around me. I am not judging, but I am observing this phenomenon slowly capturing some of the people that I and others have grown to trust. This does scare me to no end and it has been mentioned to friends, both old and new.

Having been awake for much longer than is healthy, I think some sleep and another look over this is in order. Part of the reason for this is that I had started typing some dialog that had come off of the TV

**TRIGGER WARNING**

A friend told me that they would no longer read this blog.

I was a bit surprised and wondered why they felt the need to stop. I also was a bit disappointed, because this person had been a good source of feedback on what had been written. When pressed a bit further, they said that the things I had been talking about, primarily here, but occasionally in real life had set off cravings. Cravings can do strange things to folks like me, especially if they have been not using for a period of time.

Some people go for rides through the wrong neighborhoods. Some search for old phone numbers. Others had those numbers tucked away for use on a rainy day. In other words they were being triggered to use. 

Being the supplier of that rainy day doesn't sit well with me.

Until recently, there were no warnings here about what my words might set off in those who read this mess. One must consider that a blog about drugs, written by a drug user might well have an adverse effect on an abstinent user. Some people come here for, what's the word...

Oh yeah, the vicarious thrill of reading about the miserable part of this often shitty existence.

Like I had mentioned in an earlier entry, the drug of choice is shifting in the general Erie area. Heroin is doing well and is basically available from anyone who deals. The expenses, up here for the price of crack is indeed help fuel the ice success. Most dealers are shifting around in how products are placed in availability. In regards to black market weed, those bastards are making a killing. The legal dispensary prices and the MMJ community has done little to ease the pain of high prices for that medicine.

The above statement is my opinion and should have no bearing on...

Well, it is funny who shows up at my door

It occasionally verges on the edge of hilarious.

What does seem to be happening though, and I am going to blame the drugs, is that the wiring in my noggin may be getting scrambled. I have been acting in a fashion that does not suit me. Being dependent on another to fill my emotional needs is a dangerous place to go. with that said, I enjoy company and will do what I can to encourage people to return when they feel the urge. I don't encourage everyone to return, but there are a few whose appearance makes me smile. It's not often that you find someone who can fill hours of time with interesting conversation.

Sadly, it seems the urge some have is not for my company but for what type of recreational substances I may have on hand. That isn't said in a way of condemnation of those people, but a reflection of the way I decide where or who I will hang out with at some times. Additionally, the weather is starting to get chilly. People are calling or texting, looking for a place to stay until  the weather gets better or the overflow shelters open.

It will be some time before those shelters open again.

The thing is that, as the old cliche goes, never let a good deed go unpunished. Way too often I have offered my couch to someone in a jam, only to find something I treasured has disappeared or my secret stash was found. Another test on my hospitality is when someone shows, dragging along another creature that is completely foreign to me. For all I know, they may be serious serial killers.

This happens more often than I would care to admit.

So I am sitting here, at this very moment, wondering about one of the night creatures, who says they are cold with no place to sleep. And even if there is some sort of compensation for shelter, which often there isn't, will I be able to sleep. I have tried to sleep on more than just one night, feeling the need to keep one eye open.

And people wonder why I'm anxious.

2019 has not been kind to me.

This year started with a dreadful, snowy winter.

Erie is noted for the amount of snow that falls here during the winter season. Golden Snow Globes are often awarded to my hometown. That is the prize awarded to the city with a population of 100,000 or greater. Some people seem to get giddy about that sort of thing, but I have grown tired of the downside to that amount of frozen precipitation.

While we didn't win the award, we certainly got enough to keep me inside and pretty much isolated from much of the living, breathing real people that I associate with on a semi-regular basis. Depression and the loneliness of that season does take its toll. Some things, like the amount of drugs used to ease the boredom or break me out of a funk, does seem to increase .

The downside to that is sacrificing healthy and social activities that most healthy folks use to keep themselves...
Would it be correct to say that they are sane?

Then a rude surprise was placed at my feet at the end of May. The mother of my children, and a friend of mine for over 50 years suddenly passed away. She hopefully, passed peacefully in her sleep. It certain was a shock in that her, as well as many of my acquaintances expected I would be the first to check out.

There is a certain amount of karma or perhaps irony in the way she passed.

It was agreed that I would be the first and that some arrangement would be made for a respectful funeral and such would be taken care of...

Not going to happen now and I guess my remains may well end up in the pauper's cemetery. Oddly enough that cemetery is pretty close to the house I built a long time ago out in the burbs. That doesn't really matter but the hurt from her passing was exacerbated by the attitude of my children. They have pretty much erased me from their mother's and their existence. 

When I came to the viewing at the funeral home, I was encouraged to pay my respects to my former wife and friend, and leave in short order. While never said directly, I was encouraged through my sister and by other actions, to not attend the funeral service the following day.

That was a further salted by my son telling me that I was not allowed to visit the home and house I built. I was also told there would be no opportunity to retrieve any sort of memento of that friendship from the home.

No visit, no nothing...

As the summer passed, I found myself increasing my intake of drugs of all sorts. From my comfort substance, crack to crystal meth and even dabbling a bit with heroin. Not to lessen the effect on my that the combinations may have had on my physically, I also played with injecting both the meth and the skagg.

I have good veins and may have damaged my body to a certain degree by coming close to an abscess.  My hand and arm blew up, swollen from improperly trying to hit a vein and missing. And yes, that shit, the meth does burn like a motherfucker when you do miss.

In other news, in a few futile attempts to ease my loneliness, I have tried through various means to attract some female companionship. It also seems that my lack of practice, or perhaps my total inexperience, has resulted in some dreadfully clumsy mistakes. Apparently there were those who did think that activity was inappropriate.  I haven't unraveled that yet, but wonder why a person I have grown to trust and believed looked at me without judging had turned 180 degrees. Maybe I threatened something that made him feel somewhat superior. We are both anarchistic in our own charming ways, and that could be the root of it all. It might also be that...

Fuck if I know, but that will be a topic for further exploration down the road somewhere. The troubling part is that I thought that there were a very few people out there who did not consider me to be disposable.

Maybe it is the meth. As told to me a long time ago, this fellow told me that cocaine allowed him to walk through walls, but meth allowed him to walk through people.

More on that as I sort out the depressing mess that I probably created.