Tag: Alcohol

Fake Doctors: Blah, Blah, Bullshit

Ever since I was a young child, I have been affected by other people’s emotions and thoughts. No I cannot read the minds of people that I do not know and most of the time cannot read the minds of people that I do know. Sometimes I wish I could; most of the time I’m glad I cannot do this the majority of the time.

Yet when I have felt the feelings of others, the majority of the time this has frightened me. This has caused me to turn to alcohol (mostly) and turn to drugs the remander of the times. Usually there is so much negativity when I enter a room or false hope or fake smiles, that I have a proclivity towards not really associating with the general public all that often. 

I have taken recent steps to try and change this. I cannot and will not shut these feelings off anymore with psychotropic drugs, legal or street, ever again. It is rather hard for me to accept these kind of things as being real or being a blessing instead of a curse but I know they do exist. People have tried to label me in the past as having depression or bipolar disorder or (name a disorder ) they’ve probably said, “Yes! You do have THIS!”.

 

Newsflash to all those wonderful people that wear the biggest masquerade ball mask of all! This would be psychatrists to those of who may be wearing a mask of your own.

First of all, I do not accept your practice as a genuine medical science. It is a cash cow. Simply put: We are all human. We all get depressed and anxious and have mood swings and get too happy for things that we shouldn’t be getting so happy about. 

Another reason I do not accept your practice as legitimate is due to the fact that while, yes, I have in fact met the definition of clinical depression in the past but all that antidepressants have done is either make me more depressed or caused side effects so great that the idea of facing the world in any way, shape or form was most undesired.

What you may ask are these side effects? Everything from numbing of the face to sharp pains in my side (presumably my kidney) to having auditory hallucinations (which included by were not limited to hearing all music and sound a semitone lower then what actually was occuring) to homicidal nightmares to headaches that lasted for weeks on end to not having the full functionality of my brain available to me. 

Of course, all doctors and professionals in their field will tell you to bear through the side effects and they will go away. However I have to much of my brain to go without my brain. I’m quick with my mouth and well when it takes 30 seconds to coming up with something clever or meaningful to say versus 2.3 seconds (or less), I am completely dull and worthless to myself and others. 

How then did this depression go away? I made a choice to at least try and be happy. Do things that make me happy. See people that make me happy. Listen to music that makes me happy. It’s pretty amazing how a bunch of little things add up sometimes to complete the puzzle. 

No, I’m not perfect. I still make tons of really stupid decisions but the level of stupidity is going downward. I am the most relaxed I have been in my entire life. 

I am not really afraid of anything except writing. I love to write and since my life is relatively simple now, there is no excuse for me to not drop everything when I get a thought or idea. I guess fear stops me. I’m scarred right now. lol. well not that much more tired. 🙂

I just wish more people could see things the way I do. I don’t want to get into all kinds of specifics right now though, I’m too tired to think much more and too private to reveal all my intracacies in a public blog. Or most people wouldn’t believe what I am saying, at least the ones that think they know me. 

And with that I say naught more. 

By SpaceDog 

The Canned Meat & Alcohol Only Diet

A Friend of f-yourblog.com was kind enough to honor a previous request of Mine. The request was simply if your aimlessly surfing the Internet, and perhaps stumble upon some seriously weird shit please let me know. The Link the Reader forwarded me was to a Lithuanian website promoting one of the most bizarre Diets ever to be conceived.

It was called the Mesos Konserai ir Alkoholis Dieta which translates to The Canned Meat and Alcohol diet. Obviously the first part is a no brainer the dietary requirements where that you only eat canned meat. It does not restrict you to the type of canned meat it can be ANY and ALL canned meats  currently available to the public were fair game. You could only drink Alcohol while on the diet, and again it did not restrict your type of Alcohol. Any and ALL Alcohols again available to the public were fair game. There is no timeline or duration for this diet as it seems to be more of an endurance contest than it is a legitimate diet.

I decided to try it and in the name of Sociology. Not only would I try it but I’d document it through pictures of what I ate/drank each day 4 times a day for 26 days strait.

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After 26 days on the Canned Meat and Alcohol Diet I lost 31 pounds due to the fact I vomited almost half or all of what I ate 30 minutes after eating. Also I have never shit nearly as much as I did on this diet it was like a diarrhea Niagara fucking Falls pouring relentlessly out of my ass. Another side effect was all the alcohol totally disrupted my sleep schedule and after 10 days sleep deprivation became a very real issue. Last but not least again due to the excessive alcohol intake am now border line diabetic.

People ask was it worth it?

Honestly I don’t have a goddamn clue if it was.

Would You do it again?

In a word Yes. Life is a web of interlinked experiences, and this one was one for the history books.

Do You regret trying this diet?

No Not at All, I have NO regrets.

What about the Negative effects on your general health?

Everything has fucking side effects, go read the warning on the side of a bottle of Aspirin.

Thanks For The Read as Always,

Les Sober

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie pt.4: Salvation of the Streets

Mike shoved the doors of the basement delivery and much to our surprise they swung open like a $2.00 Hooker’s legs on pay day.  We bum rushed out of the confines of the basement show leaving the ensuing riot behind us. As we emptied onto the street it resembled the most messed up parade anyone could imagine. Several police cruisers were parked out front in various and precarious angles outside of the bar with their lights blazing as a handful of cops wandered around amidst the occupants of the bar. The regulars were at the outskirts of the crowd bitching about being separated from their beer and bar because of some punk kids shit show (that shouldn’t have ever been booked) as The Barfly was in deed a Bar not an actual show venue. The base of the crowd outside were not just the fan’s that attended the show, but an increasing amount of onlookers out from the shadows of the shitty streets they called home. It was quite obvious that there simply were not nearly enough police officers to accomplish much of anything accept a couple of initial arrests, and not getting killed in an already out of control situation that since they intervened seemed to only escalate more and more. Plainly put it was a numbers game and the police were well outnumbered.

Our small clan stood in a tight circle around GG who was beyond agitated and was now bordering on his usual redirect of hate against the entire fucking planet. All I remember from standing in that circle as we franticly threw together some resemblance of an escape plan that I was completely distracted by GG. Well not GG as much as the way he smelled to be more accurate. The pungent stench of stale beer, body odor, blood, feces and urine combined into a force all its own burning ones nostrils and causing ones eyes to water profusely. I have smelled rotting roadkill baking under the hellacious heat of a Texas summer heatwave that didn’t wreak nearly as bad or strongly as GG that night in the ally. The most immediate part of our plan if we were to escape unharmed in one piece and avoid incarceration was to camouflage GG like any anonymous fan. While the first responders found themselves out matched had inevitably radioed for much need back up, and GG was their main target. GG’s girlfriend grabbed a dirty bandana from out of a trash can in the ally and furiously started wiping the blood from GG’s head as well as face. The Mike contributed his leather biker jacket and one of the few other fans with donated a pair of cut off sweat pant shorts. GG took the fitly bloody bandana from Liz and fashioned it so it not only covered his shaved head but also obscured his eyes. With GG now dressed identically like one of his disenfranchised fans we slowly exited the ally into the main street. The police were to distracted by all the other bullshit going on they didn’t notice our exiting from the ally next to the bar. We started walking briskly in a tight knit group with GG on point. We made it all the half block down to the corner of the block without issue until we (moreover GG) was detected again not by the police or adoring fans, but by one of the amassed spectators on the opposite side of the street from the bar.

“GG IS FUCKING GOD!!” screamed the unknown onlooker like a fucking air siren circa World War II. Thats all it took to get the attention needed for the fans and mentality of the show to spill out onto the streets like blood from a severed artery. The fans and onlookers started to walk down the street in our direction, and unwanted attention. We managed to make it 3 blocks before GG decided to start engaging his following fans and assorted others like the onlookers. GG started by responding to the chants and screams of support which only served to rile the crowd into a further fury. We could hear the sounds of bottles breaking, trash cans being tossed and an assortment of other sounds of destruction as I began to worry that the incoming police back up might spot us thus ending our escape and starting the jailing process. GG didn’t seem to give a shit anymore as he continued to encourage the chaos. GG was leading the procession of misfits and deviants through the South Philly streets like a demented Pied Pipper leading his personal army of rats.

The only thing that finally got GG to snap back to reality and realize the true and present danger of the surrounding police was his desire to party. No surprise GG was a heavy drinker and endorsed drinking as well as drug use in any and all forms (GG also endorsed violence especially against authority) ,and his Achilles hill made him focused at the task at hand: Don’t get arrested (again) and get drunk/high. We soon realized walking wasn’t going to work as no one knew where we were or where we were going not to mention we were being escorted by a unruly gang of miscreants spreading destruction in their wake. I managed to wrestle a crumpled $20 bill from my tattered jeans and got Liz’s attention. I gave her the twenty and told her it was for cab fare to get GG out of here once and for all. We unfortunately had to walk several more blocks until we had a chance in hell of catching a cab in spite of the nights already tumultuous events. At last one of the few fans with us a small greasy guy (he was 5 foot nothing at best) with 5 o’clock shadow got ahead of us and managed to hail the only cab we had seen since arriving hours earlier. Liz jumped in the cab as fast as she possible could tugging on GG’s arm so hard it looked as if she was trying to dislocate GG’s fucking shoulder. GG paused as he entered the beat up gypsy cab and said angrily “Fuck you Philly!” and then preceded to getting the cab. As soon as GG was in the cab it took off like a bat out of hell with its ass on fire.

As I stood there watching as the cab barreled GG off into the night I thought to myself “I don’t know how the hell I ended up at a GG Allin show, but I was damn glad I came because you can’t make shit like this up.”

The Hypocrisy Of MTV And The American Viewer

Many moons ago at this point MTV (or better known back in the day as Music Television because 1,000 years ago they actually played music videos 24-7) aired a American remake of the British hit show “Skins” that followed a group of high school friends daily lives, interactions, relationships and so on.

Now again its fucking funny how here in America we tout our FREEDOM OF SPEECH allowed us by the 1st Amendment, BUT then the government creates the FCC (Federal Communications Commission) who’s sole job is to censor tv, radio, print news and are attempting, and failing so far miserably to say the least, the Internet via Social Media.

The FCC is not the only one to blame for its the American public that likes to think we are culturally evolved, and armed with the 1st Amendment we believe we are a socially open and accepting of art in any form. This couldn’t be farther from the truth.

In the original British version the teens portrayed in the show did engage in Smoking Pot (which in America is legal in 25 states or 1/2 of America) ,and TOTALLY illegal in Briton though their attitude towards Marijuana has always be more liberal and lax then in American historically speaking.

The teenage characters also drank beer/booze freely, BUT remember in Briton the legal drinking age is 18. Not to mention Alcohol is the 1st intoxicant (fact Google it) teens try first. Though in the Pharmaceutical age Pills are replacing alcohol at an alarming rate, but thats another story.

The High School characters (played by high school age kids, not 20-30 somethings pretending to be high school students like Beverly Hills 90210 bullshit, or 21 Jump Street) surprise, surprise have sex. NOW this is not to say or imply gratuitous sex complete with nudity. In fact the scenes were no more offensive than a basic American movie love scene or tamer even. You see the teens start to hook up kissing and shit, and then the camera fadeout or transitions to the next scene. You also at times saw the teen couple lying in bed (completely covered again NO NUDITY) after having sex, BUT you NEVER saw the teens actually having simulated sex with each other.

MTV saw the popularity of the show in Briton and decided since Hollywood has died due to being void of new ideas/creative concepts that they’d just take a British hit show, Americanize it, and enjoy the high ratings. That never even came close to happening. What did happen was the American public went absolutely apeshit and caused a massive public backlash. Americans were horrified by the drinking, appalled at the Pot smoking ,and utterly repulsed even by the idea of FICTIONAL TEEN TV SHOW CHARACTERS hooking up in ANY way what so ever.

There 2 issues I have with the American public on this subject. One being the age old conundrum of sex vs. violence. American’s bitch constantly about violence on tv (and every where else for that matter) BUT when it comes to sex violence becomes acceptable. George R.R. Martin once said in an interview about his hit HBO series “Game of Thrones” (based on his books) “It never stops amazing me how on the show people get angry over the showing of a naked breast when in the next scene a mans head is cut in half with a Battle Ax in extremely graphic detail.” I couldn’t agree more Americans are hypocritical when it comes to sex, violence or both.

The second issue I have is with the American public AND MTV. The American Public freaked the fuck out over “Skins” subject matter and portrayal of teens sex lives, BUT heres the HYPOCRISY. While enraged at the behavior of FICTIONAL characters the American public had no problem with MTV’s other show “16 and Pregnant”. The show “16 and Pregnant” was a reality tv show that followed REAL LIFE UNDERAGE PREGNANT TEEN MOTHERS, their families, their friends , and occasionally the TEENAGE FATHER.

If Americans claim to be free yet their actually restricted as fuck, and the American public are NOT socially enlightened at all in fact their predominately MENTAL MIDGETS offended by damn near everything. So how the hell do Americans justify condemning a FICTIONAL SHOW because of its content and because of how it could influence/affect American teens in real life, BUT fully endorse and embrace a tv show that damn near glamorized underage high school pregnancies?!

What the fuck is exactly wrong with Americans who claim to be accepting but are ANYTHING but based on American social norms?!

END THE HYPOCRISY AND TRULY UTILIZE THE FIRST FUCKING AMENDMENT. The world s full of sex, drugs, drinking, and socially unacceptable behavior so restricting Television shows based on “objectionable” content won’t accomplish a fucking thing.

CENCORSHIP IS UNAMERICAN.

FIGHT THE FCC.

FUCK HYPOCRACY IN ALL ITS FORMS.

I Was A Teenage Murder Junkie Part 1 of 2

The first time I heard “Bite It You Scum” by G.G. Allin and The Murder Junkies, I was standing in the dungeon-like basement of The Barfly Lounge somewhere in the bowels of Philadelphia’s less then desirable south side, which was the only venue that would host a G.G. Allin and The Murder Junkies show. I was with my two work partners in crime Mike (a photographer) and Chuck ( Event liaison) who had found out about the concert the previous month while visiting Chuck’s sister who lived on South Street in Philly. This was the pre-internet era so the only way for unsigned bands to promote their shows was papering every free surface with flyers up and down the street. They also relied heavily on the power of word of mouth. It was one of those flyers, tacked to a telephone pole, that Chuck saw as he was walking down the street on his way to buy a pack of cigarettes. We decided it was a show that was a once in a life time chance not to be missed. So Chuck had approached our editor Vincent V. at “Grind Spine” magazine where all three of us were currently working while taking some time off before college.
We had made the hour long drive over to Philly from Gitsville NJ in Chuck’s car which in all due favor was a complete junker. The driver’s door shook so bad you thought at any second it would pop open. The speedometer was not to be trusted. There was a hole in the floor board. The radio only got one AM station, and the car seemed to have a front head light that was eternally out. When we arrived at the bar there was no appropriate parking so we had to park on the street four blocks away and walk. The corners were inhabited by hookers and drug dealers. The streets were lined with litter and more than a few homeless panhandlers. This was the type of neighborhood that if you drove through it you wouldn’t stop at red lights. Finally, we got back to the bar unscathed and in one piece, and then the door man (who looked to actually be a local biker) barely glanced at ID’s before letting us in with the stern warning “You guys don’t start any shit and I won’t have to beat the shit out of you.”
After such nice parting words from the doorman, the three of us shuffled single file through the narrow doorway of the bar. The Barfly Lounge was a small and rather cramped 500 square feet with an L shaped bar to the left. The right side of the room hosted a motley crew of tools, chairs, and wobbly tables. The only apparent patrons in the bar looked like a small group of local regulars from the surrounding neighborhood most sitting hunched over at the bar, a beer clutched tightly in one hand, and either a lit cigarette or shot glass in the other. The lighting in the bar was well beyond dim as the few spare lights that hung from the ceiling were enveloped in a thick pungent cloud of smoke that hovered like a smog cloud over Los Angeles. The thing I will remember most about The Barfly till the day I die was the overwhelmingly putrid stench, a vile smelling mix of stale beer, body odor, cigarette smoke and what we all assumed to be vomit.
“The show is in the basement. The door is in the back, next to the restroom.” said the bartender in a deep gravely voice reminiscent of Tom Waits. We slowly made our way to the back of the bar trying to see where we were going in order to avoid tripping or worse, falling onto the cesspit of a floor, and as we walked by a few of the weary down trodden customers lifted their heads just enough to stare at us as we passed. The door to the basement was a hideous dark green and had a thick greasy coat of nicotine . We cautiously proceeded down the bare concrete stairs I couldn’t help thinking that I had seen plenty of horror movies that started like this. We entered the gloomy basement which smelled so heavily of mold and mildew you had to wonder how being in this environment could negatively affect your respiratory system. We had come to far to turn back. The only light in the dank basement were the stage lights which were actually quite intense with a white light that almost felt like when you stared into the sun as a kid. Rusty exposed pipes hung from the ceiling several had been patched with duct tape and were in various stages of deterioration. There were only a handful of people lingering around waiting for the show to start in growing impatience. There was a thin lanky man about six foot two who looked like he weighed 160 pounds soaking wet and was no doubt a junkie, but he was a junkie selling 16 ounce cans of Budweiser for $3.00 a piece out of a couple of dirty igloo coolers at his feet to fund his heroin habit. Suddenly the The Murder Junkies (G.G. Allin’s last backing band before his death in 1993)  wandered lazily onto the stage where the bassist and guitarist plugged in their instruments and did a quick tune up. The drummer came out completely naked fully having earned the nickname Dino The Naked Drummer (who played naked so while drumming his clothes wouldn’t chafe his skin) and sat down behind the drums looking a bit lost as usual. It was then I became aware as I was watching the cliches and stragglers about fifty people or so had piled into the basement behind us, but were standing at the back of the room the farthest they could from the stage. The band all of a sudden launched full tilt into one of their signature songs “Bite It You Scum” and the crowd went feral. A young man who identified himself as Unk asked if we had been to a G.G. Allin show before and we said no we hadn’t. Unk went on to tell us he had found the safest place to be at G.G. Allin shows and that was behind him. No sooner had Unk finished speaking than the man referred to as the most spectacular degenerate in rock-n-roll history took the stage.

Definition of Bottle Club

Bottle Club: A private drinking club; specifically, an association of people, often unknown to one another, for the sole purpose of providing themselves with liquor and a place to drink it after the legal closing hours of public bars or in a city or county where the public sale of alcoholic beverages is prohibited.

Side Note:

Bottle-Man: A drunkard or habitual drinker