How much from you...

How much from me...

That's the way it seems to be going lately around here.  Life with another human being, so far as I am concerned is kind of a waste. They seem to want more than I have to give and it is kind of tiring.

The roof we have over our heads is temporary at best. My efforts to locate new residence is falling behind as well. Costs without paying rent are out of hand and soon the creditors are going to be looking for theirs.

Fact of the matter is that I just don't have it.

That could prove to be painful in so far as my future is concerned. Debts must be paid and we don't care how, by cash or by other means. That is just the way that it has to be. No one else's ass is on the line.

Just mine.

This it must be noted, was written several days ago. My mood, while not greatly improved, is a little better. My ex-room mate was here long enough to screw up my front door lock. I really can't leave until that is repaired. That may well be a few days, the ways some stuff works around here.

Actually, until the weather improves somewhat, there isn't really a great deal to get excited about outside of here. So back to my bad habits and communicating with my dealers, creditors, fellow junkies and addicts.

All that in the hopes that this freak show we are all living, somehow all returns to normal.

At what cost...

I do often wonder how much the poison pumped into my viens really does cost. On one hand, there is this head strong headed creature who has put no value on her morals or appearrance.

 Her head between between some strangers legs has huge issues for me. So if also holds that if I benefit from her lack of scrupples, I too have no scrupples myself.

Prove me wrong.

Those who know me also know that is not the case. As a matter of fact though. That same sad junkie would rather suck a strangers cock than mess with mine.

That hurts even more...

The never ending excuse is that we need the money. The fact she  needs the money and whatever else is derived from those "client" appointments.

It's time we both went out own ways and looked out for our own interests. I suspect the accounts are way out of balance. The truth in that soon will show.

That shit ends tonight.

A Different Twist...

The twist is in and of itself, par for the course.

I have been messing around on other social media platforms. Instagram in particular, has been a place where expressing oneself visually has proven to be a positive outlet for myself. It has been so successful, that my anonymity has all but disappeared.

Over a period of time, a few of the photos that I did manage to snap did attract the eye of some who possessed, either by nature or training  the quality that collectors desired. Regardless, those pics did catch some eyes. This has created a situation that brings me to this point.

A local gallery owner thought enough of my"work" to approach me about showing those pictures. I did discuss how the look in those photos was achieved. He did say that I should be honest in how that look was arrived...

I fucked around with the settings, until I was was happy with the results. In a nutshell, until the photograph resembled what my eye actually saw.

Soon, probably a little bit later this week, if not today, details of this "showing" will be revealed by the gallery owner. With that said, I shall let him do his work.

At the very least, my hope is that these pictures will help to color my world for the eyes of others.

AS OF LATE

Life really sucks...

Things have really gone downhill in many respects. Using is on the increase for me. The type of drugs I've been tinkering with have seriously gotten stronger as well.

Finances are sketchy and additional credit has not been helpful in any respect. Well it has allowed me to use more drugs.


Overdoses have been way too frequent. Friends have been avoiding me and I really can't blame them.
Who wants to get too close to someone who may be gone tomorrow.

Psychotic episodes have been increasing. Bizzare behavior has become a constant. Depression is on the upswing and isolating, while aided by my behavior, has been a practice of choice.

Winter is a season I dread and this one has been one of the worst. A fire only adds to the PTSD that is part and parcel of my life. I've been told that choices must be made.

The thing is though, I'm not sure I have that ability any longer. Asking for help is admitting defeat.

Besides, I'm not sure I really know how to ask for help.

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.