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Tag: drug addiction
Tori Amos: A Quick Clarification
It’s no secret that I’m about the farthest fucking thing from a Tori Amos fan, not by a long shot. I find her music extremely melodramatic with Heavy Piano, it the only music that makes Emo look like it has balls. Amos’s Lyrics are Vague and as for “singing” Amos opts to howl, wail, and Yodel her way through every damn song like she’s America’s answer to Iceland’s Bjork.
Its also no secret that Tori Amos has had a long torrid love affaire with cocaine. Tori Amos is essentially a life long cokehead and it shows in her so called music.
There is a popular Tori Amos song (who’s title surprise, surprise I don’t know) BUT the Chorus is;
“God sometimes you don’t come through…”
To be crystal clear Amos’s is not making a profound statement about a religious deity. She is making a exclamation about her Coke Dealer.
Now I’m no Saint or anything resembling one and I’ve been in the situation Tori Amos finds herself in as far as the subject matter pertaining to this song. Its definitely one of the shittiest feelings know to all mankind to be Coked out of your mind tweaking like a Son-Of-A-Bitch and you can’t get a hold of your Drug Dealer.
The intense feeling of utter desperation taxed heavily with anxiety and uncontrollable racing thoughts/pulse, pounding heartbeat, Paranoia, and the intense craving is one of the reasons drug addicts question why they do the drugs they do when their Sober.
The most fucked up thing is I really hate Cocaine, I was never into stimulants, Depressants were my favorite drugs. What I mean by that is Coke made me feel more not less. So I haven’t done Cocaine in 14 years and have no plan to indulge in it ever again.
Thanks For The Read,
Les Sober 
Interpreting Angels by Spacedog
I’m a firm believer in the fact that sometimes creativity, thoughts, and even emotions come from places completely outside of us. I struggled with this for many years during my drug addiction. I felt all the thoughts that blew by on the wind, that other people were having but never my own. I could not feel my own I was blocked, so naturally I thought all the good, bad, and ugly around me were me. There is a lot more bad and ugly apparent to the naked eye.
It is very good to say that the vast majority of the time now I can differentiate between the two. However when the thoughts are simple, pure, and genuine I do not really try and think, “Well where the hell did that one come from?”. We all like to believe that every good thought, intention, or deed comes directly from within us but sometimes it does not. Sometimes it is from an angel.
I believe in a lot of things. Most people that consider themselves religious would probably cringe when told all the different bits and pieces that my inner knowledge feels to be true. Most non-religious people might even feel the same way. I am who I am. There is one thing that I do believe. That is in angels.
Not in a traditional king james bible sort of way however. Angels can be dead or alive to me. Some peoples pure presence alone or amazing aspects in people that well frankly suck. I consider an angel to be inspirational. Some people can only retain that inspiration for short periods.
I admit I have had a few conversations in my life where I have completely shocked myself by some of the things I have said. Even while being the complete paradox of it. Talking about how great life is while considering suicide; talking someone out of using drugs while I was doing them on the other end of the phone line; the list goes on and on. Some may say hypocrisy . I say angel.
Am I calling myself an angel? Hell to the no. Touched by one? Much more likely.
Many of us believe in ghosts and entities that haunt, so why couldn’t there be angels?
We all have our gifts. Whatever moves you and drives you.
If you know what it is go after it wholeheartedly but do not succumb to the first inkling of failure.
If it is another person, then I really hope for your sake you are their sound producer, their roadie, their secretary, or perhaps if you like cigars their intern. Otherwise you will be disappointed when all the roses die. All roses die it is only their scent that lingers. Sometimes the scent is not enough.
When people leave us too soon, whether through death or any variety of factors we always question ourselves. Here is a little poem I’ve always liked.
People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.
When you figure out which it is, you know exactly what to do.
When someone is in your life for a REASON,
it is usually to meet a need
you have expressed outwardly or inwardly.
They have come to assist you through a difficulty,
to provide you with guidance and support,
to aid you physically, emotionally, or spiritually.
They may seem like a godsend, and they are.
They are there for the reason you need them to be.
Then, without any wrong doing on your part
or at an inconvenient time,
this person will say or do something
to bring the relationship to an end.
Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away.
Sometimes they act up or out and force you to take a stand.
What we must realize is that our need has been met,
our desire fulfilled; their work is done.
The prayer you sent up has been answered
and it is now time to move on.
When people come into your life for a SEASON,
it is because your turn has come to share, grow, or learn.
They may bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh.
They may teach you something you have never done.
They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy.
Believe it! It is real! But, only for a season.
LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons;
those things you must build upon
in order to have a solid emotional foundation.
Your job is to accept the lesson,
love the person/people (anyway);
and put what you have learned to use in all
other relationships and areas of your life.
It is said that love is blind but friendship is clairvoyant. (Author Unknown)
So while we are generally confused, saddened, and distraught when old things end, we must move forward. The train can only go forward and not back. Sure we can pause to reminisce. Just don’t get stuck in the quicksand. Our friends, new and old, would not want us to be stagnant. I would rather be mobile and saddened, then like the great wall of china and mildly happy.
As for the poem, I truly believe that friendship is clairvoyant. One of my friends, who I would talk to generally everyday, would always call me at unusual hours. 6PM here, none at all there, 3AM here, 1PM, midnight, you get the picture. 90 percent of this time I could pinpoint within 30 minutes when he would call. I get urges for the same songs as others at the same times. It is uncanny. The list is endless.
So anyway I would like to thank the angel(s) that made this writing possible. I could not have done it on my own.
Do you ever feel an unknown, other worldly presences pushing you forward? I know I do. Otherwise I’d be writing about lesbians.
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.
The Hepatitis C Hypothesis
I have had a hypothesis lingering in the back of my brain for over a year, and my hypothesis is can Marijuana slow the progression of Hepatitis C. Now lets establish a few things before I begin presenting my Hep C Hypothesis .
- I’m not a Medical School student.
- I have no formal medical training/education.
- I am not a Doctor.
- I contracted Hep C
- I was treated for Hep C and now am considered cured (Hep C level is undetectable)
- I am curious and intelligent
- I keep up with the advancements of Marijuana in Medicine as I am 100% Pro Pot and the governments propaganda has been disproven as now real medical research has begun
So heres the story, hypothesis, and Explanation there of. When I was 72 I had danced with the Hellion Heroin for brief periods through out my younger years, but this time it finally found me and proceeded to do exact its revenge the only way Heroin knows how by destroying your life. But that is a story for a different occasion and this is not a tutorial or case study on or about Heroin.
The only reason I mentioned Heroin at all is there are only 2 ways to contract Hep-C one being through a Blood Transfusion (Which I’ve never had and RELAX THEY CHECK FOR IT NOW.) and the second being through intravenous drug use which is how I became infected. Now Hep C can hideout in your liver for 10,15,20 years before any symptoms are present so I personally diagnosed with Hep C a decade (10 years) later after I had cleaned myself up along with my life.
Its one of those stories you hear about I went in for routine blood work as part of a well overdue physical. After a while I realized that the Doctor’s office had failed to call me with my blood work results which is par of the course so I called them since I find people not preforming their basic job duties irritating as fuck. I got a receptionist that answered the phone as if she hated her job and her life along with it who transferred me to a nurse. The nurse got on the line and read my results like she had never seen (more or less read) blood work results before in her life, and seemed to be desperately struggling to figure out what she was looking at. In the end she informed me that due to slightly elevated liver enzymes the Doctor was recommending a more extensive blood work panel. I am not one of those smart asses that go on Med MD or some shit, and then go to my Doctor and try to 1 up him when he presents his findings/recommendations. I followed the Doctors orders and promptly went to have my blood drawn and sent off to some laboratory god knows where to be analyzed. Once the results were in I was contacted in a timely matter this time around, and wanted me to set up a consultation (which I interpreted as VERY BAD fucking thing because consultations of this sort always lend themselves to the worst of the worst scenario) When I got to the consultation the Doctor told me the diagnosis was Hepatitis C and that being out of his skill set was referring me to a specialist (known as Infectious Disease Doctors which I believe to be the worst fucking title for a Doctor as they already make people nervous to begin with).
NOW LETS PAUSE A MINUTE. This is also NOT a tutorial on Hep C so I’m mentioning only the bare basics as I they related to me personally through my Hepatitis situation. If your curious about Hep C then fucking Google it.
When I met with the Specialist who informed me that for someone with Hep C I was in rather good position. This was due to the fact my viral load (or amount of Hep C found in one’s blood) was 100,000 which granted sounds like a lot, BUT on average when someone comes to him their numbers are 5 million usually more. Also he informed me that due to excessive amounts of liver transplants the FDA had made Hep C its number 1 priority which meant they were pumping millions of dollars into research. I was lucky I didn’t have to suffer through the traditional interferon which is used to treat cancer as well as Aids/HIV and was the main reason people quit treatment. All I had to do in the end was take 2 pills once a day for 3 months, have blood work immediately after finishing treatment and then again a year later to see if I was indeed cured which I was and am to this day.
Now even though I was in a good position along with new medications to be cured before I suffered a single symptom and was subsequently was cured still had to wonder how it all came to be. I say that because when I was using Heroin I also drank excessively and we all know that will kill your liver if you let it so my liver was getting the holy Hell kicked out of it in a 2 on 1 fight for preservation. I would like to say when I got clean I also got sober yet that was not to be the case. I continued to drink heavily with occasional benders. I still enjoy beer (I have quit Booze) BUT I have learned in older age moderation is the key to all things this world has to offer.
My lingering question simply was how in spite of the Shooting Heroin and the boarder line alcoholism how could my Hep C viral load was extremely low when I was diagnosed? Then I noticed new studies in Marijuana and its affect on Cancer Tumors. What was being reported was while Marijuana can’t cure Cancer or destroy tumors it could buy the patient a good deal of well needed/wanted time by slowing the Tumor’s ability to replicate Cancer Cells. Basically Caner sets up shop (the way Hep C sets up shop in the liver) and then replicates Caner cells like a fucking Cancer Factory Assembly Line. Hep C specifically sets up its shop in the liver it works in the same way as Cancer does using replication. So the initial Hypothesis is Can Marijuana Slow The Replication of the Hepatitis C Virus in infected patients they way it can in Cancer Patients?!
Its not just the Marijuana itself that I believe could slow Hep C’s replication process alone theres more to it than that. While it has for a rather long time been proven as fact that every single human being (for unknown reasons) has THC receptors in wired into their brains. But not only that further research on THC receptors has shown its not just the brain that comes equipped with THC receptors but they can be found through out the body. Not only that but there are dense clusters of THC receptors located through out the human body INCLUDING THE LIVER.
In summation my hypothesis is this: Can Marijuana in combination with the cluster of THC receptors in the liver account for my extremely low viral load (and the ability to be 100% cured) being due to the combined ability of Marijuana and the THC receptors located in the liver slow Hep C cell replication?
Hey Hollywood Thats NOT How You Do Heroin
Preface: Let me cut the questions of how the Sam Hell I know what I’m talking about or what kind of authority on the subject I am off at the knees. Between the ages of 72 and 91 I indulged in bad decisions and seriously self destructive behavior up to and including (spending a couple of dire years) Shooting as much Heroin as I could daily. I’m one of a small handful of lucky ones as I’m clean, still alive ,healthy, and not in Prison or a State run Mental Institution. So that explains that.
First off I will give credit where credit where credit is do. The following is a short list of the Heroin Addiction properly portrayed in Hollywood Films.
- The color is correct. Heroin comes in two primary colors those being White and the other being Tan.
- The wax bags that Heroin is packaged in.
- Stamps: Dealers stamp their bags with some insignia like a Horse’s Head or believe it or not even a coffin (theres foreshadowing for you) as a form of Advertising so if Junkies like it they know how to get the dope they want. If there is a Blue Fox stamp on the bags Junkies will refer to it as (The) Blue Fox so they not only can identify it by sight but can also request it by name.
- The Cooking/Preparation of the Heroin with the token spoon,water,heating, the piece of cotton (part of a cigarette filter torn in two is quite common.), drawing the Heroin up into the syringe ,and even tieing off which is the part where the Junkie uses a belt,cord or other such thing to use as a pre injection tourniquet .
But thats as far as the accurate pretrial of the Heroin injecting process goes in Hollywood. Its rather funny that Hollywood knows all the intricacies of the process YET they still fuck it up right at the very end.
Once a Junkie purchases, prepares and draws the Dope into the syringe THIS is how its done. With that I give you the Junkie Reality List or How Dopers Do It:
Note to Reader: I think its pertinent to mention WHERE Junkies get their syringes. Most people think Junkies buy needles off dealers (which is a very slight possibility) ,buy them off other Junkies or perhaps off of Junkie Diabetics (yes they exist BUT these such Diabetics usually sell their extra syringes to supplement their almost non existent incomes POINT BEING these people are poor or have a vice of their own that needs funding (ironically 9 out of 10 times its Alcohol) NOW THE REAL DEAL IS anyone can go into any pharmacy and buy Insulin Syringes WITHOUT A DOCTOR’S PRESCRIPTION. The reason for this (especially in an age where you have to show a photo id to get cold medicine) as far as anyone can deduct is an UNOFFICIAL policy that UNOFFICIALLY ENDORSES Clean Needles (allowing the selling of Insulin Syringes without a doctor script) to prevent HIV,AIDES,BLOOD INFECTIONS,COLLAPSED VEINS AND HEPATITIS C.
With that said here is the for mentioned Junkie Injection List:
- The type of syringe (as I mentioned above) Junkies use are Insulin Syringes because You don’t need a doctors script to purchase and are the needles one would find being sold on the street. IN HOLLYWOOD for some ridiculous reason have their movie Junkies using a standard 3cc syringe. 3cc syringes are the syringes your doctor uses to administer vaccinations, flu shots, tetanus shot etc. It is also the syringe (If your a pet owner) used by veterinarians to administer vaccinations, antibiotic shots, pain medication among other things. THE EASIEST EXAMPLE IS THIS A Phlebotomist (a person who draws blood) uses a 3cc syringe to draw human blood ,and veterinarians also use 3cc syringes to draw blood for testing.
- The actual injection is the exact opposite of what is seen in Hollywood films. In films the actor Junkies inject themselves at absurdly WRONG ANGLES anything from 45-90 degrees which would make it medically IMPOSSIBLE to use for an intravenous injection. The reason that such wildly wrong degrees are medically incorrect is simple at those specified angles the syringe needle would PUNCTURE RIGHT THROUGH THE VEIN ITSELF ,and would come out the other side thus negating the desired injection. The degree that is correct (and is taught to medical students) is 15 degrees because you want to run along side the vein and then puncture it, any other angle your essential just stabbing through the vein (like Norman in Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho ) and wasting the dope.
- THE DRAW BACK, while there a small handful of films that actually do portray this part at all an example being in Quentin Tarantino’s movie Pulp Fiction when John Travolta’s character shoots up. The draw back is when the Junkie injects and once they believe they have hit and are in the desired vein the PULL THE SYRINGE PLUNGER BACK slightly to see if a bit of blood enters into the syringe. Once there is blood mixed in the syringe the Junkie knows that THEIR IN THE VEIN.
Afterward: I wrote this because over hundreds of decades since I kicked dope I have had the pleasure of meeting a few other ex-Junkies and just like me they all found it irritating as a mad ass motherfucker that Hollywood couldn’t get the last part of the process correct. Thusly I dedicate this to all of my fellow ex-Junkies around the world, its just one ex-Junkie’s attempt to set the record strait.