felix's blog

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When I was twenty

When I was twenty scarcely a fortnight could go by without a song, a movie, or even a well-thought out comment from a friend evoking a strong, honest emotional response.
Now I've travelled forward in time as far again as I had back then, I guess I'm saying I am over forty, just. And it was for the first time in perhaps years that tonight I listened to a song that managed to trigger something in me.
Mountain Goats, Sunset Tree album the first few songs. I've heard them before many times. But I haven't had a shot today and I've had a LOT of shots as of late.

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On despair

I watched a good documentary last night on an artist I'd never heard of before. Phil Ochs. 

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Conspiracy or economics?

I ended up putting my day's adventures in news, as it's factual and relevant to all IV drug users, especially those in the Brisbane area. Here's a link to it.

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The power of a cold

I awoke at 4am yesterday with the concrete realisation that I would not be going in to work. A cold that was just a talking point when I had gone to bed had promoted itself to being totally in charge of my destiny for the foreseeable future.

What impresses me about sickness like this is the way it removed my normal desire for opiate intake. When I went to bed later that night I had scored only once (been using 3 times a day lately) and had only drunk a quarter of my normal metro takeaway dose.

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Pain perception

"a long period of chronic pain is is preferred to a significantly shorter period of mild discomfort with peaks of acute pain." 'Thinking, Fast and Slow' Daniel Kahneman, 2011 978 1 84614 055 6

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It's so cold in Alaska

Snapshot, me at 41.

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Possible logic flaw, help needed.

So, I have this job okay, it's not a nice job. But this job earns me enough money to be able to buy the quantity of illegal drugs that I need in order to be able to cope with my job.

Now, it feels like there's a problem with that sentence, and yet it's self-contained and all encompassing, so maybe it's okay. Maybe it's a zen haiku? Maybe I am needlessly worrying?

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All beauty must die

I can think of no greater fear. No one concept or idea causes me more stress than this one. That one day I may no longer enjoy gear. To inject, and not enjoy. A horrible thought, but I guess it is not a universal law that I should always enjoy gear, is it? Why should I assume that although I may fall in and out of love, take up and discard various hobbies, why would gear remain a core enjoyed activity?

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Who said?

Who said that the aim of taking drugs was to learn how to achieve their effect without them? Paraphrased I know. Some sixties Rock star I think. It's taken two decades but sometimes, like this afternoon, I can get a glimpse of how to do it. Standing still on a concourse outside the Sciences library at UQ, letting the life flow by, I get a trickle of a benzo effect without the benzos. A remove, a distance. The headphones help the feeling. Still a long way to go.

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Dreaming of dragons

In a small tumbling down house, with some unknown other person or perhaps more than one. The house had safe spots, i.e. locations where the dragon outside could not see the person inside, and in such spots you could rest. But for some unkown reason there was a necessity to go outside regularly and so I did. The main memory of the dream was getting back inside to safety just seconds ahead of the dragon.

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